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let-it-raines · 4 years

Text

I Hope We Never See October (1/?)

Summary: When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Do you know what’s a great way to distract yourself from writing and other responsibilities? By writing a story that you shouldn’t be writing. So, here we are, and I hope you enjoy 😂

On AO3 | Here |

-/-

June

The ocean water runs over his toes before disappearing, heading back to its home beyond the sand. It’s a cool contrast against the heat of the sun that’s warmly beating down on his skin, but it matches the chill of the beer bottle against his palm. Who knows what time it is? From the emptiness of the beach, Killian is guessing it’s mid-morning, but seriously, who the hell knows anymore?

Likely everyone other than him.

After more water washes over his feet and up his ankles, he decides the water is too cold to stay standing this close to the shoreline, so he walks up the path to his house and closes the gate behind him. He sits down at the bench by his pool and then buries his face in his hands before moving to take a sip of the beer.

God, he hopes it’s not truly the morning because he’s one second away from tipping the bottle enough for the beer to tumble down his throat.

Killian yanks it away and tosses it to the ground. He expects the damn thing to shatter against the tile, but it doesn’t. It rolls away into the grass, spilling a little beer with every turn until it stops against the tall grass lining the gate. Killian bends down and picks up another bottle, popping it open, then pouring it out. He does the same thing over and over again until his grass is fertilized with alcohol.

At least his body isn’t.

What a thought to have (presumably) so early in the morning.

His eyes close, the sun no longer blinding his vision, and he starts picking up the bottles, chasing them around and cursing himself for even buying the damn case in the first place. He has no clue what damn day it is, but he does know that it’s too damn early for him to be drinking. And if he’s going to get wasted and waste his day, he might as well do it with rum or whiskey. He doesn’t even like beer.

Killian chucks the bottles in the bin resting against the side of the rental house and goes through the side door into the kitchen. It’s clean today, all the white countertops empty of plates and pitchers and the junk that accumulates over time. The living room is clean as well, all the pillows in the right place, the throw blankets over the correct corners of couches, and he can see vacuum lines in the rug. He’s sure if he were to walk to the mantle, it’d be empty of dust. Ariel must have sent someone in to clean yesterday while he was away from the house. He’s got to have her stop doing that. He’s thirty-five years old. He can clean the house he’s staying in. He doesn’t need her taking care of his life for him.

Though, it is literally her job, but Ariel takes things far past being his manager. He doesn’t know anyone else who does all the things she does for their client, especially when he isn’t bringing in the same amount anymore. Sponsors aren’t exactly lining up at the door for disgraced football – not the American kind as everyone here believes – players, but he still has a few hanging around and good enough investments that he’ll be alright for a long while. Bored as hell with too much time for him to wander to bars in Martha’s Vineyard before talking himself out of them and sitting in a twenty-four-hour diner all night. He’s got his favorites. One has better coffee than the others, but the booths aren’t clean. Another has clean booths but a piss excuse for coffee, and his favorite has a selection of pies that have him eating in ways he hasn’t since he was young. Still, they’re all pathetic little places for him to spend his time so he doesn’t drink more than he can tolerate.

At least no one knows him here. It’s actually why he’s here to begin with. There are obviously less famous towns and places in the world, but he wanted to be near the ocean, wanted to at least have that if he was going to be in disgraced isolation. This area has beach for miles and different nooks to disappear into, and so far, it’s nice. He’d rather be in London or New York, but he knows this is better.

He collapses onto the couch and sees a note on the coffee table in Ariel’s neat script. When was she even here? Honestly.

Killian, Eric and I are in town for the week. Please come to lunch at our house. We’d love to have you! I know you don’t have anything better to do, so don’t bother calling me with an excuse. Hope you enjoy the clean house!

- A

He runs his hand over his face and scratches at his too-long beard before fumbling for his phone and checking the date and time. It’s half past eight. He can get two, maybe three, hours of sleep now, and he’ll only look half as pissed as he feels when he makes his way to Ariel and Eric’s house a few miles over in Tisbury.

At least he isn’t actually pissed. Always the positives, he guesses.

-/-

Ariel’s house is covered in gray shingles with white trim. The shutters are cherry red, much like her hair, and while there are obvious updates to the place, it looks just as it did in the pictures he’s seen from when Ariel was young. She was raised here, her father a local fisherman, and while she now resides outside of London, on occasion, she returns to Tisbury for a holiday. It’s why he chose to holiday here even if he’s over in Edgartown on the beach in a house too large for one person. He spent years listening to her talk about her childhood, and then visiting when she married Eric here, and he wanted that calm sense of relaxation.

Right now, however, he wants nothing more than to be back in a city. The firing squad won’t be as intrusive there where he can get lost in a crowd instead of being the center of attention.

Killian opens the unlocked front door that squeaks on its hinges, and he immediately smells garlic bread baking in the oven. She must be making her pasta, and his stomach growls for real food. As he walks through the hall at the entrance of the house, he notices that everything is the same, all the family portraits are in the same places, there are a few too many nautical decorations, but it all works. Killian looks into the kitchen, sees that it’s empty, and calls out for Ariel and Eric, no answer. He takes the liberty of checking the oven, and when he notices the bread is slightly overdone, he grabs an oven mitt and takes it out, placing the tray on the stove.

Where the hell are they?

He pushes open the kitchen door that leads to the backyard, and he sees two figures toward the side of the yard. Killian sighs and walks over to them, only stopping when he realizes it’s three people instead of two.

Ariel and Eric are talking to a gorgeous woman in a pair of small white shorts and a fitted polo. She’s got long, thick blonde hair pulled off her neck, and he can’t stop glancing down at her legs. He doesn’t usually pay much attention to people anymore, unless of course they are paying attention to him, but he cannot help but notice her. Because she’s stunning, of course, but also because he wasn’t expecting to see anyone else. He thought they would be isolated, and his gut tells him to turn around and run.

He doesn’t.

“Hello?” he starts, and they all turn to him. “I, uh, took your bread out of the oven.”

“Oh shit,” Ariel mumbles. “I forgot I’d put the bread in the oven. Is it burned?”

“No, I think I saved it just in time, love.”

Ariel’s shoulders deflate, and then she’s closing the distance between them, hugging him tightly, before Eric does the same and claps him on his back several times. He’s missed them, and it feels good to be embraced by something other than a heavy blanket. When Eric releases him, Killian can see the woman still standing in the yard, shifting on her feet.

“Hello,” he greets, nodding in her direction.

“Hi,” she nods back.

“Oh, Emma,” Ariel begins, walking over to her and grabbing her arm, “this is my friend, Killian. He’s staying on the island for awhile. Killian, this is Emma. We rent the house to her for most of the year, so we’ve invaded her home this week, I’m afraid.”

“It’s fine,” Emma says. “You guys basically give me the place for free, and I picked up some extra shifts at the club. I’d never be home anyway.”

“What do you do, love?”

“Not your love,” she corrects, and he feels the sting even if he uses the term for many a woman, “and I’m a manager at a little place by the shore, but sometimes during the summer I’ll wait tables at the local country club for extra money. The people will treat you like shit, but at least they tip well since they have no concept of real-life money.”

“What’s the restaurant?” he asks. “Maybe I could eat there.”

Her brows raise, and he gets the feeling she’s not a fan of the idea of him disturbing her at work. He gets the feeling she’s not a fan of him at all. Funny, his first impressions are usually better than this.

“The Blue Dog Tavern.” She points to the logo on her shirt. “I actually have to go there now. I just had to drop by and get my shirt since my boss is coming by today. I’ll stay out of your way when I get home tonight,” she tells Ariel and Eric. “It’ll be like I’m not even here.”

“Oh, no, honey,” Ariel sighs, smiling at Emma, “we’re the ones disturbing you. I promise, it’ll be a fast week, and then everything can go back to normal.”

Emma nods with a tight smile, and he definitely gets the idea that she isn’t a fan of having Ariel and Eric here. He wouldn’t be either if he had to share his home with his landlords. She walks away into the kitchen, leaving the door open behind her, and Killian makes a note of the restaurant she mentioned, not necessarily to see her but to venture somewhere that isn’t a twenty-four-hour diner.

“Is that why I couldn’t stay here?” Killian asks. “Because you already rent it out?”

“Yep. Plus, it’s not on the beach, and that was your request. This isn’t really to your taste anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, A?”

She shrugs and walks toward the kitchen. “Nothing. I’ve got to finish cooking. I was just about to put the pasta on the stove when Emma came in through the back gate, and I got distracted. Thanks for saving the bread, Jones.”

“Is she okay?” Killian asks Eric.

“Yeah, mate, she’s fine.” He claps his hand onto Killian’s shoulder. “And what she meant by that is that you’re an ex-football player who is hiding from the world and is used to a certain kind of luxury. You’d lose your mind living in this house for months. It’s smaller than a quarter of your flat back home.”

“I would not lose my mind living here. It’s charming.”

Eric rolls his eyes. “You would. I think the giant crab pillow in the living room would be what pushed you over the edge.”

“That thing is still here?”

“It’ll never leave, and I’ve offered to pay Emma to get rid of it many times. I think she throws it out, and it finds its way back inside.”

Killian snickers and settles down on the bench of the dining table they keep outside, letting Eric follow. He feels like he hasn’t talked to another human being in ages, and he’s only been here for a few weeks. “You know her pretty well then? Emma?”

“No,” Eric starts, waving his hand, “no, no, no, no. You cannot go there.”

“What the hell are you on about? I can’t go where?”

“Emma. You can’t go there. She’s not a one-night stand for you. She lives here, takes care of it since we’re gone all the time. You can’t mess that up. Ariel would murder you if you screwed this arrangement up.”

Killian flashes a smile, the ones he’s used to get whatever he wants a million times. There’s an art to being in the public eye, one he figured out only to ruin it all over again, but he still knows the old tricks. Smile, be charming, never let them see any hesitation in your actions. If a question is too invasive or the answer to telling, redirect. It’s all about the redirection. Killian was never one to lie, but he was certainly one to evade, especially toward the end when he couldn’t handle hearing what everyone had to say.

Here, he doesn’t want to admit that Eric might be right about him, but mostly, he’s tired of people controlling his life because they think he can’t make good decisions.

“What?” he laughs, shaking his head. “You think I’m not capable of simply asking about a woman?”

“I think you are, but I don’t want Ariel to have any reason to kill you.”

“Eric,” Ariel yells from the kitchen, stopping Killian before he can speak, “set the table! We can eat in fifteen.”

Saved by the bell. Or the Ariel.

He hates himself a little for rhyming in his head. If this is how he thinks sober, he’s not sure he wants to stay this way.

“And Killian,” Ariel calls, “you can make the lemonade!”

Okay, so maybe he can, if only because Ariel will kill him if he collapses into the pit again, and she won’t be the only one. He’s had a few downfalls into drowning in alcohol since coming here. Maybe it’s boredom, maybe it’s sadness, who the hell knows? What he does know is that it makes the demons all disappear for the night, sometimes the morning too, but then it all comes roaring back in screaming color.

And with a hell of a screaming headache.

One or two drinks every few days, he reminds himself. That’s what he’s working with, and besides the few slips, he’s been pretty damn successful.

Killian heads inside to help Ariel, though he thinks he hinders her more than helps since he can’t find a damn thing, but eventually they get it all done and eat. Mostly, he has to listen to Ariel give him a briefing on things he has to do over the next few weeks. He has contracts to sign, video interviews and conferences to attend, and they need to happen at certain times. That’s a bit obnoxious, but he can’t complain. He’d be the biggest ass in the world if he did, and he’s certainly already in the running for that title. People still want his face and brand to represent them, and he doesn’t even kick around a ball anymore.

Fools. All of them.

Ariel asks him to stay for dessert, but he’s already eaten too much off his usual diet. Old habits die hard, and he isn’t working out like he used to. Maybe he’ll take up running again soon, but right now, the thought is exhausting. Killian excuses himself from the table, hugging the Fishers goodbye and wishing them goodnight. He’s sure he’ll see them before they return to England and go back to their regular lives. Ariel still has Will and Rob to manage, so she can’t spend all of her time on him. There are other pieces of work out there.

The streets are crowded as Killian drives back to his rental house. Tourists and native islanders alike are out to go to dinner or bars, likely a party or two, and while Killian is tempted to take a turn and go out himself, he doesn’t. He continues along the GPS guide back to his rental house until the garage door is closing behind him.

Day seventeen of being here - now that he knows the date, he’s reminded of when he arrived - is done and dusted, and he cannot wait to close his eyes and go to sleep. He’s been running on fumes all day.

Once inside, Killian quickly showers and puts on a pair of pajama bottoms, collapsing under the covers of his bed as soon as possible. So, of course, that’s when his phone rings.

“It’s bloody half past one in the morning where you are.”

“And only half past eight where you are, so why are you in bed? You look horrible.”

Killian groans and pinches his nose as he props the phone up to get a better look at the screen. “Thanks, Els.”

“No problem.” She flips her blonde braid over her shoulder, and despite the time, she looks as if she could be up and ready for work in minutes. “I was up, couldn’t sleep, and I figured I needed to check on you. I’m sorry I don’t have the girls with me.”

“Did you tell Ally and Sophia I love them?”

“I tell them every day, but I think they’d appreciate it more if they heard it from their actual uncle.”

“I’ll call tomorrow.”

“Good,” Elsa sighs. She adjusts herself on her couch, pulling her blanket up higher on her body, and the familiar pang of guilt hits Killian. It happens anytime he talks to just Elsa. The girls act as a buffer, and he feels guilty for using them like that. He feels guilt about a lot of things. “How are you?”

“Good,” he lies. “Really good. I think I’m going to take up real running again soon, maybe finally check out the gym in the basement of this house. What about you, love?”

“I’m okay. Work has kept me really busy, which I like. I have this one house with the biggest garden I’ve ever seen, and designing it has proven to be a bit of a challenge. But I miss spending time with the girls. Anna has been such a big help, though. I love having her here.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure that’s great.” Killian runs his hand through his hair, yanking at the strands, and sinks a little further into the bed. It’s nice that Anna is around, that she’s been around this entire time while Killian fucked off across western Europe and then eventually to America. Yet again, he’s let someone he loves down because he’s an absolute tosser. “It’s nice to have a family you can count on.”

“Hey, don’t start that again, Killian. I’m not here for self-pity. You’ve had a hard year, and you needed some time away. No one is blaming you for that.”

“I’m not the one who lost my husband, love. I wasn’t left with two little girls with no father.”

Killian tilts his head up so he doesn’t have to see Elsa as water gathers around his eyes. Today was an okay day. Started off rough, but it ended up being alright. Now he’s gone and made Elsa talk about Liam’s death instead of having a normal conversation with her.

“My grief doesn’t negate yours, darling. You lost your brother, who was your best friend, and you lost the career you spent your entire life building. We can both be sad. It’s not a competition.”

Killian blows air out his nose and blinks the forming tears away. “How’d you get so wise?”

“Well, you see, when a child with a head the size of a football comes out of your vagina, you get special emotional intelligence. It’s something to do with all the hormones and pain.”

Killian finally looks down at his phone to see Elsa laughing, and the corners of his mouth twitch. “You make me glad to be a man.”

“You should be glad. You’re at least fifteen steps ahead of every woman in the world. Now, come on, I want to hear about everything you’ve been doing. Have you made any friends?”

“What am I? A lad in reception?”

“No, because my child in reception has many friends.”

Killian rolls his eyes. “Well, I met the loveliest waitress last night. Reminded me of my Gran, and, uh, today I met the woman who lives in Ariel and Eric’s house. Don’t think she was a fan of me.”

“However could a woman resist your charms?”

He laughs, even if he doesn’t appreciate the sarcasm, and this time when he sinks a little deeper into the bed, it’s for comfort and not to hide. When Killian got the news Liam died in a Naval accident, it felt like his world was ending, that the ground was crumbling underneath his feet. He was at the club warming up to head out onto the pitch, and suddenly his sacred place wasn’t so sacred. He couldn’t understand any words leaving Elsa’s voice over the phone. Everything was ringing, and his legs collapsed from underneath him.

He’ll never forget that day. One moment everything in his world was right, and then it wasn’t. and he’ll never get over the fact that Elsa has been the one who has had to continue holding him up when she lost someone too.

“Well, if their names are Ally and Sophia Jones, they are experts at resisting my charms.”

“Unless you give them sweets.”

Killian chuckles. “Those are my good charms.” Elsa smiles and yawns on the other end of the line. “Els, I think you need to go to sleep. I promise to call the girls tomorrow.”

She nods and flips her braid over. “Don’t go breaking your promises to them.”

“Never, love. I’m a man of my word.”

Or, at least, he used to be. His word seems to falter lately, but mostly only his words to himself. Killian looks out the glass doors and windows toward the ocean, watching the water crest much like this morning, but he hopes that tomorrow morning he won’t be standing there with a bottle of beer in his hands.

Maybe he can keep that promise to himself at least.

-/-

Tag list: @qualitycoffeethings @marrtinski @klynn-stormz @scarletslippers @elizabeethan @jrob64 @snowbellewells @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer @cowboys-likeme @galaxyzxstark @galadriel26 @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @teamhook @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @jamif @shireness-says @ultimiflos @onepunintendid @bluewildcatfanatic @superchocovian @killianswannn @carpedzem @captainkillianswanjones @mayquita @mariakov81 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @a-faekindagirl @scientificapricot @xellewoods @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @singersdd @tornadoamy @cluttermind @lfh1226-linda @andiirivera @itsfabianadocarmo @captain-emmajones @ilovemesomekillianjones @capthamm

(You can be added or removed at any time. I don’t know where my list went, so I’ve just taken it from my last story 😘)

#I hope we never see october #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #captain swan fic #captain swan fanfic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan

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phis-corner · 4 years

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demon’s daughter

I decided to re-open the taglist for this fic because I am sometimes a pushover, so now you can either ask or comment to be on the fic’s taglist or the permanent taglist!

Additionally, I have no consistent update schedule. My first draft is written by hand- I always like to stay two chapters ahead, so I posted this chapter when I finished copying chapter 5 into a Google Doc and proofreading.

Also, fun fact: I hate chocolate. My senses just do not like it at all. I also have a very sensitive tongue and can taste the barest hint of spiciness in foods, which also means I have zero spice tolerance whatsoever. As a Chinese-American with family in Sichuan, this means I get force-fed a lot of extremely spicy foods anyway.

Masterlist Chapter 1 Chapter 2 [Chapter 3] Chapter 4

“Why are you letting them stay? He tried to kill Dick!” Timothy points at Damian, who glowers at him from across the cave as Alfred stitches Richard’s cuts.

Marinette sighs. “Akhi was not trying to murder Richard. If you paid more attention, you would notice that all of Richard’s wounds are carefully placed in non-lethal areas meant to slow him down instead of severely injuring him.”

Batman does not say a word. He hasn’t spoken since Richard called him to verify their claims.

“They were raised as assassins, Timmy. It’s normal that they’d feel threatened a lot, and act accordingly. They’re family now. Give them a chance.” Richard replies, and Marinette blinks. She did not expect to have Richard defend them so easily.

“Pardon me,” She pipes up. “But ‘they’ are currently present.”

“Right. Sorry.” Richard has the sense to look guilty. Timothy just glares.

Damian squeezes her hand three times, their signal for I would like to leave. Marinette sighs as she exits the Batcave. Being accepted into the family is… a work in progress.

.o0o.

Slade is put into Blackgate not long after with the information Ubu gave after being interrogated by the Bats. Damian and Marinette were not allowed to go.

Too young, Richard had said. They had interpreted that as You cannot be trusted to keep him alive. He did make the right call though. Damian would have tried extremely hard had he gotten the chance.

Of course, the League did dispose of him not long after anyway, but it was the thought that counted.

Damian and Marinette spent their days in the Manor sparring, reading, or practicing their instruments. Richard, who seemed determined to bond with them, bought them both new sketchbooks, for Damian’s drawings and Marinette’s designs. She had discovered an affinity for clothing design while undercover on a mission, and had been designing ever since.

Cass (she insisted that they call her that instead of Cassandra,) was always happy to spar when asked, and although nobody ever defeated her, it was a welcomed challenge to fight someone who knew your every move, sometimes even before you did. Damian grudgingly admits she is a worthy sister, which makes Marinette smile and Cass beam.

Jason had his own home and only visited every once in a while, and Timothy was rarely seen. It didn’t help that Damian continued to make snarky comments whenever they did see him, but if Timothy was scarce, Father was practically nonexistent.

Since they came to the Manor, their father has said a total of two words to the both of them, and that was just their names when he exited his study as they passed by.

Marinette is determined to make her new family work, and so when she finds Timothy completely by accident, typing away on a laptop in one of the less-used rooms in the Manor, she takes a chance.

“You do know we are not trying to replace you, right?” She asks softly, sitting down in an armchair and deliberately not making eye contact with him.

Timothy snorts. “But is that not what you’re doing? Bruce chose to take in everyone else. I had to blackmail him into letting me be Robin. And then the biological kids show up, born and raised like fucking royalty, so who would care about Tim Drake? The little kid whose parents didn’t even want him and his neighbor only adopted him because he knew his most well-kept secret.”

“We have more in common than you think.” Marinette says quietly.

“Yeah, right.” Timothy laughs bitterly. “The Princess of the League-”

“I wasn’t.” Marinette interrupts.

“Huh? But-”

“I wasn’t the Princess.” Marinette keeps her voice calm with considerable effort. “As soon as I was born, Ra’s gave me over to Lady Shiva. He declared me unworthy because I was a girl, and I was raised as the lowest-ranked assassin. I may have been Shiva’s protege, but that just meant she went even harder on me. I did not know even my last name until after my first death when I was five. I did not properly meet my brother until last year. Ra’s decided that I could be acknowledged, but maintained his stance on feminine inferiority.”

She chuckles hollowly. “You fear being replaced by your father figure’s biological children, Timothy. But your fear is unwarranted. Bruce Wayne chose to adopt you, because he is a good man with copious amounts of generosity. However, it evidently does not extend to his biological children. Talia dumped us at Batman’s feet and left without another word, without looking back. And Father? We may have been a complete surprise, but he has said two words in total to us since that first night- our names. You need not worry, Timothy. You shall not be replaced.”

Marinette stands, her message conveyed, and pauses in the doorway of the room.

“Have a good afternoon, Timothy.”

The next day, Marinette and Damian watch on live television as their father is killed by Darkseid.

.o0o.

The funeral for Batman is somber. Everyone cries except for Marinette and Damian.

She thinks they should be crying, but Marinette simply didn’t know her father well enough to really mourn him. Damian squeezes her hand, and she squeezes back. The twins stand, faces carefully blank, shoulders straight and unmoving, like rocks in an ocean of tears.

Crime in Gotham runs rampant when they think Batman is gone, and so Richard becomes Batman out of necessity- and chooses her twin brother as his Robin.

Nobody else sees how it crushes Timothy, because Cass has left for Hong Kong, abandoning Batgirl and making her own identity as Black Bat. Jason is holed up in a safehouse somewhere, Richard and Damian are in their own little world as they prepare for their first patrol together, and Alfred needs time to mourn too.

So she finds herself knocking on the door to Timothy’s room, one hand holding a plate of sandwiches and a freshly brewed coffee because he hasn’t left his room since the funeral. Marinette quietly enters upon his muffled “Come in” and sets the plate down next to Timothy, whose eyes are red-rimmed and have even larger bags than normal, and yet he continues to work.

“I… noticed you have not come out to eat, so I brought some food and fresh coffee. Black.” She adds, after a moment of hesitation.

“Thanks.” Timothy mumbles, immediately going for the coffee. “Why are you doing this?”

Marinette shrugs. “Everyone else was caught up in their own situation and had issues to work through too. I am relatively unaffected by the circumstances and therefore my observation skills have not declined.” She says simply. “You should also eat. I will not stop you from drinking the coffee, but you cannot work on an empty stomach, either.”

He begrudgingly eats a sandwich, still typing away at his laptop all the while. Marinette notes the tension in his frame.

“Would you like to talk about it? I have read that venting is significantly better for one’s mental health than keeping it bottled up.” She offers.

Timothy suddenly slams the laptop shut, hard, but Marinette doesn’t flinch. The reaction was trained out of her a long time ago.

“It’s not- it’s- my entire life, I’ve been trying to prove myself. Robin was- Robin was special. I wasn’t the first Robin, but it was a reminder that I was worth something to someone, that I could do good and be useful. And then Bruce dies, Dick becomes Batman, and he just names Damian as his Robin like my opinion on the matter meant nothing, booting me out of the position, without any semblance of an explanation and-” He breaks off into sobs.

The sight of somebody crying makes Marinette more than a little awkward, because what is she doing? She doesn’t know how to comfort a crying person, but she does know that Timothy was touch-starved as a child. However, she isn’t the most touchy-feely person on the planet either, so she just settles for rubbing his back as he lets it all out.

Once he’s run out of tears, she silently hands him the tissue box she plucked from his desk.

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, you are not worthless.” Marinette says sternly. “Nobody is worthless, and you are far from being anywhere near so. You are the cleverest and most intelligent of us all, a capable, quick-thinking strategist, and you have detective skills that rivaled Father’s. I believe Richard chose Damian as Robin because Robin is always supposed to be Batman’s sidekick. He is always taken under Batman’s wing because there are things he hasn’t learned, that Batman can teach him. Richard sees you as an equal, and therefore cannot keep you as his Robin because you have graduated the mantle. It is time you created a new identity and moved on. Do you have anything in mind?”

Timothy sniffs once. “Thank you. I really needed that. And as for the ideas,” He reaches over and pulls out a sketchbook, a smile spreading across his face. “I’ve got a few.”

.o0o.

They brainstorm ideas for almost three hours before Timothy falls asleep. Marinette easily carries his light frame to his bed and drapes a blanket over his shoulders before quietly exiting his room.

Thankfully, she managed to convince Timothy that the cowl was a terrible idea. Marinette returns to her own room for her sketchbook. Batman and Robin will have each other’s backs. But Red Hood works alone, leaving Red Robin with nobody to watch his back.

Timothy is Marinette’s brother too, and everyone else is headed into the field anyway. She, like Damian, also had the phrase ‘justice, not vengeance’ drilled into her head, and Richard had made sure to remind them daily to aim for non-lethal spots. Not that she planned on taking a life ever again anyway.

Marinette flips open her sketchbook to a bookmarked page and smiles. It seems that Starling would be making an appearance very soon.

.o0o.

It is almost time for Richard and Damian’s first patrol as Batman and Robin. Marinette heads downstairs to wish them well, but freezes at the sight of her twin in Timothy’s old suit.

“This is unacceptable!” She screeches, hurrying forward and looking pleadingly at Richard. “You cannot let akhi out into Gotham looking like a traffic light!”

Richard frowns, as does Damian. “But you never had a problem with Tim wearing it.”

“Tt. Timothy had little to no prior experience in combat before being trained as Robin. Damian has been trained to utilize the shadows in combat since birth. Wearing those bright colors will make him stand out and put him at a disadvantage.” Marinette tuts, already scribbling out a new design in her sketchbook.

“Then what do you suggest, ukhti?” Damian asks.

“I have a design in mind. The colors will stay, but the yellow and green will have to be significantly darker, and the red should be dulled as well. Sadly, you will have to wear that monstrosity tonight, but I can have the suit finished in time for patrol tomorrow, as will mine and Timothy’s new suits.” She replies, not glancing up from her book.

“What do you mean, Marinette?” Richard questions, and Marinette feels a tiny twinge of annoyance at how he handled telling Timothy about Robin.

“I mean that Timothy and I have crafted new identities as well. You did not expect him to just stop fighting crime, or for me to just sit at home while everyone else carried out Father’s mission, did you?”

Damian nods, a small smile pulling at his lips. “It will be nice to see you in the field too, ukhti.”

“What will your names be?” Richard prods curiously.

“I will not tell you just yet.” Marinette smirks. She shows her twin the finished design. “Does this look alright, akhi?”

“It looks wonderful, ukhti.” Damian replies. “Thank you.”

She sniffs. “Well, somebody had to fix the lack of fashion sense in this household eventually.”

.o0o.

Everyone else in the family may use capes, but Marinette decided that Richard’s Nightwing suit was by far the best because of its lack of one. Capes were long, heavy, a waste of fabric, and overall useless.

The Starling suit was primarily black, with a dark emerald mask covering the lower half of her face (because why carry a gas mask and rebreather when it can be built in?) with gloves and boots in the same color. A single silver star with curved sides was splayed on her chest, and a dark green utility belt rested on her waist. Her steel war fans had holsters strapped to her thighs.

All in all, the suit was built for the shadows. Marinette had learned to master slipping through the dark, unseen, and Gotham was the perfect place to utilize that. Starling would be nothing more than a ghost, a legend, if she had her way. After all, the less citizens knew, the less likely the information would hit the underworld, and that way, the vigilantes wouldn’t have all their cards out in the open.

Damian looks much better in his new suit as well, and Timothy is also grinning when he steps out of the male’s changing room. (A/N: the new 52 suit. I’m not letting him out of the Cave with that ugly cowl, or the traffic light costume with an extra R. Don’t even get me started on the Drake one.)

Richard, cowl still down, smiles as bright as the sun itself. “Good to see you, Robin. Tim, Marinette, can I ask your names?”

Timothy fastens his domino. “Red Robin.”

Marinette pulls her face mask up and curtsies with perfect posture. “Starling. I wish to work in the shadows, if that is alright.”

Richard puts on the cowl and becomes Batman. “You guys all look amazing.” He grins, and it is unsettling to see Batman smile. Oracle logs into the comms from the Clocktower.

“You all ready?”

They split the city in half. Red Robin and Starling take the North while Batman & Robin will cover the South.

Starling trails Red Robin from afar, leaping from building to building and only using her grappling hook when the distance is too great to close by foot. They stop four muggings and two attempted assaults, all without Starling being spotted. The criminals think they hit their head on the alley walls or each other instead of her fist from behind.

It’s almost three in the morning when Batman calls it quits and they return to the Cave, changing out of their suits and showering. They are somehow all unharmed, so Alfred sends them up to bed.

Damian and Marinette brush their teeth before climbing into bed and flipping off the lights.

“Tonight was actually quite enjoyable.” Marinette remarks. “It is a nice feeling, to know that you are helping people.”

Damian hums sleepily. “It is good to know that we are continuing Father’s legacy.”

Marinette smiles. “Yes, I suppose so.” She burrows deeper into her blankets. “Sleep well, akhi.”

“The same goes for you, ukhti.”

For once, Marinette doesn’t have a nightmare.

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Taglist (re-opened and will stay open): @moonlightstar64 @dast218 @our-preciousss @novicevoice @pawsitivelymiraculous @trippingovermyfeet @miyla-lokidottir @consumeconstantly @mochegato @i-wanna-be-a-ninja @azuremayscarlet @iloveitwhen @bran-thecreeper-stark @no-username2544 @susiej1118 @kking13

Permanent taglist (always open): @wannajointhecrabcult @marinettepotterandplagg

Unspecified (you asked to be tagged and did not specify which one): @momothefemur @indecisive-mess-named-me

Note: some of them didn’t work. I am terrible with technology and have no clue how to fix this.

#maribat #mlb x dc #demon's daughter au #my writing

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peace-coast-island · 3 years

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Diary of a Junebug

The trail of the Whispering Winds

The Moonlit Woods transforms into a different place after midnight. It's still as eerie as ever, but in a different way though - as in different vibes. I hardly venture out here for good reason so when I do, it's usually with a group, preferably those versed in magic and supernatural stuff.

Last time I came to the Moonlit Woods was with Team Magic - Pippa, Mariposa, Angie, and Willow. While hunting for gyroids we came across an old travel log and found a cocostar tree, which is super rare, so we struck gold with that discovery. Being with the girls made me feel a bit more confident about venturing into the woods so since then, planning out my next adventure has been in the back of my mind.

Speaking of Team Magic, the girls are looking forward to coming back for another gyroid event. Mariposa's been working with Daisy Jane on gyroid designs since then and they're pretty much ready to go. We just haven't been able to set a date yet because the girls are busy with school and college apps but they're hoping to drop by sometime in the near future.

Instead of Team Magic, we have a new group accompanying us in the woods. They don't have an official name but they have been working as a team for years. There's Taiki, a freelance exorcist who comes from a family that has dealt with the supernatural for generations. He's a friend of Miki's, having gone to the same university together.

Nene's his best friend from his hometown - she actually spent a semester at Tome U so she also got to know Miki a bit. She's also the artist Rika has been following, the one who just set up a Patreon and is in the process of getting her webcomic, Seven Wonders, published.

Haru is what they call an untethered spirit. He used to haunt the halls of the school Taiki and Nene went to before it was demolished. Basically Taiki contacted Miki who contacted her brother and his friends at the consultation center so they can find a way to keep Haru around. I only know this because Mikayla asked for some sparkle stones and essences a while back.

Then I got curious and decided to do a bit of research. Turns out there's a lot of different kind of procedures that have varying results. So what Taiki and the others did was no easy feat and they succeeded either by luck or some other factors. In other words, Haru's still a ghost or a spirit, but now he also has a physical form. He looks young - 13 or 14 at the most - but he's obviously a lot older than that - though for the most part he's like any other guy as far as I can tell.

Nene is an artist and the author of Seven Wonders, a webcomic about a girl who befriends a spirit who resides in her school. The story's loosely based on her life - as well as Taiki and Haru's. She started writing it a few years ago, originally a side project to keep herself busy. Then she began updating it regularly and grew a following, prompting her to expand the story. The webcomic then reached international audiences when Taiki offered to translate her work into English so that's when it really started taking off.

The three of them go way back, having first met almost a decade ago. Nene managed to summon Haru in hopes of granting a wish, similar to what happens with the main characters in Seven Wonders. The two end up in a series of misadventures that result in them being bonded by a curse, resulting in Nene being connected with the spirits of the school. Then Taiki came along with the intent of exorcizing spirits such as Haru, only to end up befriending him.

They've been through a lot together, even defying fate (Haru's words) so they can have this future they're living in right now. From what I've heard, dealing with the supernatural - willingly or not - always has a price to pay. It's one of those things where no matter how lightly you tread, you'll step on a landmine either way.

In other words, there's always something to lose.

Taiki was never one to have a "normal" life considering that he comes from a family of exorcists. He has an older brother and younger sister, both who are powerful and pretty well known back home. Miki mentioned that he hasn't really spoken to his family much since moving out. According to Nene and Haru, Taiki was close to his brother, having looked up to him a lot back in the day. Nene and Miki have both speculated that the rift between Taiki and his brother was probably one of the reasons why he decided to stay in Mina Creek instead of going back to Inazuma.

Nene stuck around Inazuma before deciding to join Taiki. Even after graduating she stuck around the school to see Haru, working as a janitor so she'd have an excuse to be there. But when Taiki graduated the following year, the trio didn't see much of each other. Taiki went abroad to Tome University and while Nene still visited Haru and the other spirits, she had to focus on her studies.

Then Nene signed up for a study abroad program, which happened to take her to Miki and Taiki's school. I remember Miki talking about helping out this freshman who was an international student. She said he was struggling quite a bit so it was lucky that they ran into his old friend - his senpai, as he called her back in the day. During her time there while reminiscing with Taiki, Nene was inspired to write Seven Wonders so that's how it all began.

Nene ended up dropping out of university after that semester so she became an artist/content creator while working as a school janitor. Along with that she was also the bridge between the living and the spirits, a role she carried since becoming Haru's assistant when they first met.

In the years that followed, Nene and Haru got involved in supernatural affairs while Taiki offered his assistance once in a while. Things were going well until the school had to close due to financial problems. If that wasn't bad enough, the city was going to demolish the school and a bunch of other old buildings in that area. So Haru was in a tight spot as he would have nowhere to go since he couldn't be outside of the school. And as for Nene, she didn't really have anywhere to go either since being a janitor was what kept her afloat.

Thankfully Taiki and the others were able to come up with a solution or else Nene and Haru wouldn't be here with us. Taiki made the offer for Nene to join him in Mina Creek, something which she was understandably on the fence about. She says she's been adjusting to the move a lot better than she thought, probably because she has been here before so it's not too drastic of a change.

However, it's a big leap for Haru considering that he's been restricted inside a school for years and now he's in a foreign country surrounded by a lot of unfamiliar things. He does seem to be a fast learner - Nene and Taiki were surprised at how quickly his English's improving and if I didn't know, I'd think he'd been studying the language for at least a year or so. Taiki's obviously quite fluent while Nene's sorta in between - Taiki serves as an interpreter when they need a bit of help, which is pretty much what he does during his non-exorcist job.

So far Nene's enjoying life at Minai Creek, though she admits to missing home. She finds the change in scenery intimidating but also necessary. On one hand she's sad to leave the school and the other spirits but at the same time she feels it's probably for the best. Haru's holding his own, though Nene worries about him as the changes they're going through can't be easy on him. She's also worried about Taiki too, especially since it seems like he's completely cut off his ties from his home - by that she means his family.

Nene definitely comes across as a big sister/mom friend. Taiki sometimes calls her onee-chan, which is a way one addresses their older sister in Japanese. I've met Taiki a few times before and I see a different side to him when Nene's around. Or maybe it's because this is the first time I've really gotten to know him? He just seems more ...himself? open? ... when he's with Nene and Haru. It's sweet how much he looks up to Nene - whenever he talked about her in the past you can tell how much he respects and admires her - and now that I finally meet her, I can see it. I think Nene and I are gonna be good friends.

Taiki's had his eye on the Moonlit Woods for a while as there's a section that's kinda dangerous to tread if you're not well versed with spirits and such. Only the bravest exorcists venture there to help clean up the place a little and contain the bad karma by doing what's necessary. He did his research extensively before considering going to that place due to rumors of seasoned exorcists being ill prepared and becoming corrupt, which is the worst case scenario.

Since strength lies in numbers, Taiki needed a reliable team to keep things under control and make a speedy retreat if necessary. Haru and Nene's connections to the spiritual world are valuable, especially since Haru has a bit of a pull with certain higher status spirits that can come in handy in case things go south. As for me and the campers, we're kinda the brute force, serving as the muscle and sort of an anchor to keep the others grounded. Something about certain spirits having an effect on those who can see and interact with them and taking advantage of that by blurring the lines between reality and delusion so we have to keep them from straying.

I don't know how the trio does it, especially Taiki and Nene. To live between mortals and spirits is not easy, more of a curse than a blessing to many. For people like them, they have no choice but to fulfill their roles - Taiki in damage control and Nene in being the communicator. And for Haru, being a spirit who voluntarily chose to stay in the world of the living after being bound to one through a curse, I can't imagine that being easy on him either. There's a lot to unpack with these three and whether I'll get to know the full story or not, it's clear that there's a lot on their shoulders.

Like I said, there's always a price to pay when it involves things beyond our understanding. I just hope that it was worth it. Me being cautiously optimistic, I'd like to think it was or else they wouldn't be together.

The Whispering Winds trail, as expected, was full of perils. On one hand, it was kinda good that I was kept in the dark in an ignorance is bliss sorta way. But that also makes it a bit harder to know exactly what's going on. In a place where the spirit world and mortal world becomes blurred, it gets disorienting, to put it simply. We know we're there when us mortals can see some spirits so it's important to keep our guard up.

There's a reason why they call this trail the Whispering Winds. I heard voices from all around - it wasn't a pleasant experience, to say the least. It was jarring at first but then I grew numb to it. Still, it was an unsettling feeling - 0/10 do not recommend. This is why it's best to go in a group because unexpected things will happen so it's better to be (over)prepared.

In between exorcism rituals we did a bit of sightseeing, which helped lighten the mood. Haru introduced us to some spirits he knew to be harmless and they served as guides through areas they were familiar with. Taiki and Nene did most of the heavy lifting when it came to the rituals while the rest of us stood guard. From what I've seen, it looks like a lot of work - the kind of thing you should leave to the professionals.

All around us were these blue light orb things - spiritual remnants that serve as trail markers according to Haru. Depending on the traces the remnants can leave behind, Nene can manipulate them to open up new pathways. The deeper we go into the trail, the harder it is to navigate as it's supposed to be like that for good reason. Nene's the only one who can directly interact with stuff like that so people like her are the ones who really are granted access to forbidden parts such as these. According to Haru, he and Taiki can't touch them because it can cause trouble due to their blood - meaning it's off limits for exorcists and spirits.

The light orbs also gave us some much needed visibility as well as an eerie glow. When things got quiet, it sorta felt like we were just walking down a long, dimly lit path. When things start to get a bit hazy, that's when it was time to investigate. The feeling is heavy, almost suffocating - a heavy burden to bear indeed. When the heaviness is gone, we move forward, going as far as we can before hitting a dead end. From there, our trek is over and instead of venturing a different path, we go back the way we came, careful not to disturb the newfound peace.

It was an interesting experience - again, it's probably for the best that I don't know too much about it. There's a whole 'nother world out there with exorcisms, spirits, psychics...as curious I am about these sorts of things, I respect that it's not my place when it comes to certain aspects. It's a fascinating world out there but we can't experience or begin to understand certain things that are beyond our scope. It sucks sometimes being just a bystander or outsider but it is what it is.

#animal crossing #animal crossing pocket camp #Diary of a Junebug #headcanon ramble

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maybe-your-left · 4 years

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A Case In Need: Control Freak

Here is a link to my Masterlist that has all the chapters and my WIP!

TW/CW: NSFW, allusions to violence, drinking, and some breath play! Ren’s a nasty boy and FUCK is it good.

Also super sorry about it being a while since I updated, I just started some new anti depressants and they threw me for a loop but I'm back on track now and feeling better than ever.

It had been two weeks since Ren had bought you your ‘gifts’.

Scratch that.

Two weeks since a giant monster of a man had removed you from your home, took away your valuables, hid your favorite blanket somewhere, he wouldn’t say where, and gave you a full swat team of bodyguards whenever you were out of his sight. Two full fucking weeks since he started keeping tabs on where you were, what you were doing, and who you were with.

It was exhausting being his ‘lover’. If you could still be classified as that, it was starting to feel like a hostage situation, whenever the two of you weren’t in the office together he would send you texts or phone calls that you were required to answer. He had even gotten a spare cell phone to call you from so it was separate from his personal calls, and you presumed to keep Rey oblivious. Which oddly enough had been working, she had really no idea what was going on. She would visit him at work throughout the day and give him a small kiss on the cheek and always insisted on hugging you before leaving. At some point, she must’ve hounded him for your phone number because now here you were meeting her for lunch hours after Ren left your, ‘our’ as he liked to call it, apartment.

Before he left he had laid out an outfit for you to wear along with an outline of talking points you were ‘allowed’ to bring up with her during the lunch. You had rolled your eyes at him and ensured that you weren’t going to reveal anything to her, you didn’t really want your relationship with Ren to end. You just were getting tired of the short leash he kept you on. After getting dressed, and inspected by Ren, he had pulled you into a long slow kiss and whispered in your ear, “I’ll miss you Angel,” and then he was gone.

Huffing you messed with your hair a little more and straightened out the dress he had chosen for you. Even though he was being a psychopath for control you were surprised to see that he was being generous in the gifts he bought you. The day after moving Ren had taken you to a couture mall in Manhattan and lavished you with thousands of dollars worth of clothes, jewelry, and home goods. He had insisted on keeping the house in a monotone color scheme but he did budge on your wardrobe, he knew that you liked having some pops of color and truth be told you noticed that he enjoyed, a little too much, the baby pink sets you chose at the lingerie stores. He had even gone so far to get you a custom made necklace* that was engraved with his initials, with a ruby inlay, that he wanted you to wear all the time.

Grabbing your purse and slipping on your black strappy heels you heard your phone go off. You searched your purse for the damned contraption, even though it was a small bag it was almost like a Mary Poppins never-ending abyss when you threw things in it. Jingling out your keys you locked the front door and made it down the steps and finally snatched out the phone.

Vicrul and Ushar will be escorting you today. Don’t be difficult with them or you’ll be in trouble.

Ugh, he was never going to let you live that down. You stood outside and waited for their black SUV to pull up while you contemplated messaging him back. You didn’t really feel the need to be escorted to lunch with Rey, wouldn’t she think it’s weird that her husband’s men were driving you? Did she get escorted like that with the other beastie boys? It’s not like you weren’t fond of them, truth be told you liked the guys, they were always posted outside your house when Ren was gone. Usually, it was Ushar who took care of you unless it was a super public gathering then one of the other men would join in. But it had been a while since Vircul had watched you, the last time Ren had let them take you to a spa to get your nails and hair done and you had been in a bratty mood. One thing had led to another and it ended with you screaming that you were being ‘attacked’ because the men would not fucking stop hovering. The spa did not think it was funny however and Ren had to bribe the police officers who were 100% ready to arrest Vicrul because he was pinning you to the salon chair.

The black SUV slinked up to the sidewalk and out of the passenger side came Ushar. “Hello Miss (Y/N),” he opened the back door for you, “Confirming that you are headed to lunch with Lady Ren?”.

“Yes Ushar,” you rolled your eyes behind your sunglasses, “He already said I could go.” The men always did this with you, whenever he was gone they would double, even triple-check that you knew where you were going and any special instructions Ren had laid out for you. It was almost like you were a child stuck in the middle of a custody battle, each side was trying to make sure you knew all the rules and what you were allowed to say or do, it was getting really old.

“Hi Vic,” you cooed trying to get a rise out of him, “It’s been a while hasn’t it?”

Vicrul let out a low chuckle, “Not long enough Angel, not long enough.”

You hummed back at him and settled in so they could whisk you away to probably the worst lunch of your life. You decided to play nice and shoot Ren a text to let him know you were with the guys, but you also wanted to push his buttons.

Don’t worry Daddy. I’ll play nice.

The drive took a little over fifteen minutes, Vicrul parked up front and Ushar quickly opened your door and held his elbow out for you to take. You grabbed it, thankful for the support since you weren’t sure what to expect. The two of you began into the large building, with Vic jogging up close behind. Climbing into the elevator you noticed the other patrons were scooting away from you. Being as you were a small woman being flanked by two men who looked like they wrestled bears for a living, it was a natural response. Most people had hopped off before you hit the rooftop for your ‘date’.

Stepping out you scanned the area and immediately noticed another hulking group of men in pitch black suits. Ahh, so the others are here too, of course, Rey would have her own guards. You let the guys lead the way and soon you were a group of six men hovering by the hostess stand. Looking around you couldn’t find Rey, she wasn’t any smaller than you, she hadn't gotten far especially with four guys flanking her…

“Ugh there you are!” she squealed before pulling you into a tight hug, effectively pinning your arms to your sides. “I thought you got lost, Kylo told me he sent the Knights to come get you but I was so afraid you stood me up!”

“The Knights,” you whispered, still in her boney clutches.

“Yes, the Knights,” she released you and grabbed your hands in hers, “They are the bodyguards we use!”

Oh. The Knights. That’s what Ren called them, well it made sense, they were fucking huge and seemed like they did anything for their ‘master’.

“Are you ready to eat? I got us a lovely table out on the balcony,” Rey smiled at you.

“Oh yes, of course,” you tried to match her enthusiasm, “Let’s go.”

-----

After the two of you were seated the Knights had flanked you both on your sides, leaving about a 6-foot circle for the waiter and other servers to talk to you.

“So (Y/N),” Rey grinned at you, “How are you liking work? Kylo says you’re doing an excellent job.”

You blushed, “Oh thank you, he’s never mentioned that.”

“Oh, that’s just because he’s bad at giving affection, we’ve been married for almost 10 years and he still rarely says ‘I love you”,” she giggled and started drinking her cosmo. What an awkward turn this lunch had gone, and right at the fucking beginning. It didn’t shock you that Ren was weird with affection and compliments in front of people but you assumed that after ten years he would at least show something toward Rey. Your heart sank, what if he never returned feelings to you? You had been seeing each other for almost a month, and even though you knew it was wrong, you had started feeling ‘feelings’ for him. The PDA was okay, you weren’t a huge fan of it, but even at the mall he had held your hand and kissed your forehead when you found something he liked. It was strange and new for you, and being told that he wasn’t like that with his wife made you ill.

“Let’s talk about something else,” you spit out, “Sorry, it’s just I’m at work all week so maybe we talk about something different?”

“Oh of course,” she took another swig of her drink, “I can’t tell you the last time I hung out with a girlfriend.” another drink, “Probably since before I got married!”

“What?”

“It’s true,” she sighed.

“What do you do all day then?”

“This and that,” she motioned for the waiter to get her another, “Usually I go and play tennis at the country clubs, join in at the book club I’m a part of, you know domestic things.” She looked almost sad, you wondered if Ren was the reason she had nothing to do, or maybe she was just that boring.

“Well,” you tried to soothe her, “What do you like to do?”

She inhaled deeply and looked out at the skyline, “I really enjoyed being in school. Learning, reading, doing something. But I don’t anymore, women in my situation aren’t expected to have those kinds of hobbies.”

“Situation?”

“You know,” she looked back at you and dabbed her lash line, “Being married to a powerful man, I’m expected to hold a certain standard.” She sniffled and you resisted the urge to reach across the table until one single rule from the outline stood out in your mind, ‘Under no circumstance are you to soothe her, she is dramatic at times and I don’t need you falling into a trap’.

A server thankfully interrupted your pity party, leaving your dishes and a quick message about ‘if you need anything else just call’. Rey had seemed to reign herself back in and turned back to you with her trademark smile.

“What about you?”

“Oh um,” you paused to bite into your salad, “I don’t really do much. I usually go out to bars and stuff on weekends. Or my friends and I have wine and cheese nights!” You smiled at her, it had been about two weeks since your last meeting. Finn and Rose were super confused when you told them you moved but you convinced them that with your new salary you could afford some new things. You actually were supposed to meet them in a couple of days at your new apartment for drinking.

“Ugh that sounds so fun,” Rey almost screamed, maybe she was drinking too much. You weren’t sure what her tolerance was but you were sure that Ren probably monitored her drinking. “I used to do that in college with one of my friends.”

“Oh? Where did you go to college?”

“The same one as you!” she squealed, “Sorry, I saw on your resume where you went to school. I’m pretty sure we were in the same class.”

“Oh no shit,” you giggled back at her, you tried to remember if you knew her. The only people you hung around were Finn and Rose, sometimes Poe who had moved across the country after graduating. He was the ambitious one out of the group, he had joined the Air Force before school and became a pilot.

Rey started giggling uncontrollably, you could feel the Knights start to shift towards her. Especially Vicrul who seemed to be keeping a very sharp eye on her. “Yeah, we both used to hang out with Rose,” she said over her glass.

You froze. Rose? Your Rose? How did she know her? You were sure Rose didn’t know Rey, and if she had wouldn’t you have known Rey too. Now all the Knights were closing in on you two, you could feel the mood shifting to a topic Ren probably didn’t want you to have. “How… How do you know Rose?”

“Oh, it was way back when,” she flung her hand out to somehow calm you, “back when I was hooking up with this guy Finn.”

“I think that’s enough Lady Ren,” Vicrul grunted while reaching for her drink.

“Hey,” she shouted, “I’m a grown woman Vic. I can drink whatever I want!” She was starting to cause a scene, you turned and noticed other patrons looking your way. And what a sight it was, little Rey holding a half drank cosmo as high as she could away from the Knights.

Vicrul got closer to her and almost growled, “Don’t make me call him.”

Rey narrowed her eyes, “Do it, pussy.”

And then all hell broke loose, Rey had launched from the table, effectively throwing her drink on Vicrul. In her haste she had also thrown the food all over you, your pretty new dress now soiled by the salmon salad you ordered. Ushar had rushed to your side and grabbed you by the shoulders and was attempting to pull you from the scene. But you couldn’t just sit and watch, Rey was sobbing and screaming at Vircul to let go of her, even going as far to bite his arm that corralled her to his chest. You couldn’t help but cry too, this poor woman, she was truly a prisoner. She had so many friends at some point, maybe even was your friend, and then she was thrown into a world she didn’t seem to enjoy with a husband who only cared about her appearance.

Suddenly everything stopped, the Knights were silent and lined up by the table, aside from Ushar and Vicrul. You swallowed your tears and you heard footsteps. Slow and methodical steps coming towards you. Waves of dread began to fill your stomach while the aura of danger was licking between your legs. You cowered into Ushar’s chest, you didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to be at the end of his wrath.

“How strange it is,” he boomed from your left side, “that here, in our favorite restaurant, you decide to make a scene.” He stalked towards Rey, slow steps, each one growing louder than the last. He had his hands clasped behind his back and although you couldn’t see his face you knew that it was tense. You could practically hear his jaw popping in and out of place. He cracked his knuckles before bringing his hands up to his neck. “I expected more from you,” he spat out and began to crack his neck. Each pop was like a nail in Rey’s coffin, you couldn’t help the little whimper that rose from your throat which caught his attention.

Ren whipped around and was in front of you instantly. His fists clenched at his sides and his breathing shallow. He was waiting for you to meet his gaze, almost taunting you to stare back. You gulped and squeezed your eyes shut. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want him to blame you, if he would just calm down you could explain what she had said, no one had told you that she got so emotional when she had cocktails. It wasn’t in the outline briefing he had given you this morning. So really it was his fault.

“Take her away,” he snarled at Ushar, who suddenly picked you up and rushed you out of the restaurant. Peeking over his shoulder you witnessed Ren closing in on Rey. When the elevator doors shut you hoped that the pained screaming you heard wasn’t what you thought they were.

The drive back was silent. Neither you nor Ushar said a word. You barely remembered to breathe, you were petrified. How could lunch have gone so wrong so fast? You just wanted to get to know her, get an understanding of who she was. You didn’t think she was going to launch into a speech about how much she hated her life. And what was the whole Finn and Rose thing about? Not once had they mentioned that they knew her, other than when Finn told you about the Ren incident. But you didn’t think that meant Rey and Finn hooked up in college. It was all too familiar and uncomfortable, you needed answers and unfortunately, there was only one person who could give them to you.

-----

You waited. Paced, bit your nails in anticipation for him to come to you. He hadn’t told you this morning when he would be back, but he always would come around in the evening to drop off food and watch a movie with you. Or give you feedback on something at work, or fuck you on any surface he could find. But he never stayed too long, which should be normal, he did have a wife who would probably be suspicious if he was gone overnight.

After about 5 hours you had decided that he wasn’t coming. So you stripped down and started a bath, throwing in a black glitter bath bomb that was supposed to help soothe the body and soul. After it was just the right temperature you grabbed a glass of wine and turned on some Netflix to drown out your wandering brain. Sinking in you enjoyed the stillness, you didn’t get this luxury at your old apartment and now you were being spoiled rotten with all these new features. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you could live somewhere like this, or wear the clothes that you had hanging in the closet. You hummed to yourself and started drinking and began to be lulled to sleep by the sounds of Fraiser coming from your laptop.

You were pulled from your sleep to the sound of a door slamming shut. Followed by grunting which you assumed was someone taking off their shoes, and another series of slamming noises. Guess someone decided to pay you a visit, you groaned and drank some more of your wine, preparing for his royal asshole to grace you with his presence.

You heard his footsteps coming up the stairs, your master bedroom doors swinging open and closed until the man, the myth, the legend, was now standing in your bathroom. Fully clothed aside from his shoes being gone. “Well hi,” you said to him.

He grunted at you and made his way into ‘his closet’, which was filled with clothes of his own that he bought on your shopping trip. He reemerged completely naked with a black robe draped over his forearm.

“Why is the water black,” he grumbled before swinging a leg across from you.

“What do you think you’re doing Ren?”

“Don’t be difficult Angel. I’ve had a long fucking day,” he snapped at you, “Now is this water going to stain me, or am I good to get in?” he stared at you. His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched like he was getting ready to attack his prey. You tried to keep your face neutral, not letting him know that you were still slightly scared of him after the display this afternoon. You slowly scrunched your legs to your chest as a nonverbal way of telling him he could join in. Once you moved he brought both legs in and sank into the tub.

You both were very lucky that this was a large bath since Ren’s legs took up about 75% of the space in it, leaving you to stretch out on top of him. Your feet placed on his abs while he sunk lower and lower until his head was resting on the lip of the tub.

“What’s in your glass,” he practically moaned at you with his eyes shut. He looked super uncomfortable but you could tell he was trying really hard to relax. Which seemed to never be his natural state.

“It’s a Cab*, the one with the lion on it.”

Ren snatched it out of your hand without even looking and chugged the rest of it. “We’re going to need more of that,” he rolled slightly to his right and pressed an intercom button.

“Whoever the fuck is downstairs will you bring up the Juggernaut bottle,” he barked into the speaker. Assuming that one of the Knights was going to follow his order. Within minutes one of them came in and gave Ren the bottle which he immediately started chugging from.

“Ren,” you reached out and pulled the bottle from him, “Are you going to tell me what the fuck happened earlier? Or are we just going to drink?”

“Can we not do both?”

You exhaled loudly, trying to get your point across that you needed to talk to him. He groaned and started rubbing his face. “I don’t know what you’re expecting from me. She is my wife and what we do in our personal lives is none of your business.”

“Are you serious,” you snapped at him, “Ren I am fucking you. You’ve been calling the shots of my life for almost a month, you bought me an apartment, car and new clothes and made me go to lunch with her and now it’s none of my business?”

He crossed his arms and looked away from you, trying to focus on your laptop even though it was paused from watching too many episodes.

“Kylo,” you barked, “I’m fucking talking to you.”

“Don’t you dare call me that,” he yelled, raising a finger at you.

Bringing the bottle to your lips you waited for him to continue. Interesting that he allows Rey to call him that but not you, this was something you were going to have to explore.

“Is it because you’re ashamed, Ren,” you cooed at him, “Ashamed that I saw how out of control she is. Or that I know you beat her.”

Suddenly he was on top of you, his hands around your throat. Teeth snapping in your face like a wild dog. “Don’t you ever accuse me of that,” he seethed and released you enough so you could breathe again, “I’ve never laid a finger on her in my life. You don’t know anything about me little girl.”

You had dropped the bottle in the tub, the red liquid pouring out and mixing into the black water. Almost like there had been blood spilled between the two of you. You grasped onto his forearms to try and anchor him off of you but were getting nowhere. “That’s hard to believe,” you gasped, “When you’re currently choking me to death.”

“Oh Angel,” his face softened to a less dangerous one but more one of mischief, “That’s because I know you like it when I’m rough with you.” You inhaled sharply, and Ren pushed you up further against the tub. Effectively pinning you in place while his knees knocked yours to accommodate him.

“Like right now,” he came closer to you, “I know that your pretty little cunt is sopping because of me. It’s okay to be afraid, I won’t hurt you.” One of his hands dropped into the water, “That much.”

Suddenly he had you flipped around, on your knees with your chest and face pressed up against the end of the tub. Water sloshing between you two while he pressed his hips into yours. Revealing a once well-hidden erection that was now skimming your folds. He brought one hand down between your legs, lightly petting at you. Humming when he felt your arousal mixed with the water. You moaned and tried to press your hips back into him, desperate for friction. “No, no Angel, you’ve been a bad girl.”

You froze and felt him line himself up at your entrance, usually he worked you open so it wouldn’t be so painful when he pushed into you, but it was clear that right now Ren wanted you to feel the pain. His other hand came up and gripped to your hair, successfully knotting it in his fist.

“Tell me, Sweetheart, do you know how long you can hold your breath?”

You craned your neck to try and look at him, you were obviously confused.

“Let’s find out.”

Ren pushed into you and suddenly you were dunked underwater. You thrashed and screamed under the black mess while he started pumping into you. Each thrust was harder than the last, he was determined to make you know how much he could hurt you. You tried to push yourself back up to the surface but he had you pinned, after what felt like hours he pulled you back up and you choked on the water.

Gasping and gagging you started sobbing while Ren was laughing like the Joker. “I think we can do better than that,” and he had you under the water again, his pace far more crucial, he was chasing a high that he didn’t know he had. The amount of power he held over you now was unbearable. This man, who you had grown to like more and more, was now holding you hostage under the water and the sick part was that you didn’t want him to stop.

He pulled you back up and pinned your face to the side and thrust in more and more, grunting and groaning at the clenching of your walls around his cock. The hand holding your hip hostage slid down and started rubbing tight circles around your clit causing you to moan. “That feels good doesn’t it Angel, I can feel you, you love it when I fuck you like this.”

Gagging again you responded, “I do I love it, Ren, please don’t fucking stop.”

“You want to cum don’t you,” he leaned to your ear and continued his brutal pace, “Cum all over my cock? Even though I almost drowned you?”

You screamed as his circle grew faster and faster over your nub, you couldn’t help clenching around him. You felt so close to your orgasm, you just needed a little bit more.

“Tell me you like it, Angel,” he huffed before stopping to take a bite out of your shoulder, “You like it when I control you. You need it don’t you dirty slut, someone to keep you in check.”

“Yes Ren I love it, please please let me cum,” you begged him.

“After you cum you’re going to thank me for everything I’ve done for you, do you understand whore? I own you. I own your mouth, your tight little cunt, even your thoughts.”

You were bucking back into his thrusts, desperately chasing your release, “All yours Ren, please I need it.”

He stilled his movements and turned your head to try and face him, “Take a deep breath and cum Angel.”

And you did just that as he dunked you back under the water, pinning you flat against the bottom while his fingers rubbed your clit in sync with his cock. You were clenching and desperately trying to hold your breath until you felt him empty inside you. Hot sticky cum painted your insides as his grip on your loosened, you took the chance to lift out of the water and gasp for air while Ren slumped against you. His chest flush with your back while his cock was still squirting into your tired pussy.

His arms came around you and pulled you up with him so now you were on top of him while he buried his face into your neck. Lazy and sloppy kisses were placed all over the crook of your neck up towards your jaw, his hands were slowly petting your breasts in a way to calm your breathing. Finally, he took in a deep breath and stood with you clutched to his chest.

Treating you like you would porcelain he stepped out of the tub and turned to the shower, quickly rinsing the two of you off before leaning you against the wall. You couldn’t even move, your body went into fight or flight every time he shoved you under the water. You were so sure he was going to kill you, but each time he was sure to pull you back up and prepare you for the next blow. It was almost considerate, given the circumstances, that he even let you cum with him. You stared at the man who was washing both of your bodies of the glitter, wine, and cum. He looked so focused on piecing you back together even though he had been the one to break you in the first place.

He shut the water off and stepped out, quickly drying himself off and getting in his robe before reaching his hand out for yours.

“Come on Angel, you’re shivering,” he whispered to you, afraid to command you after what had happened. You grabbed his hand and walked out of the shower where he again dried you off and wrapped you in your black robe too. Once you were bundled he picked you up and you wrapped your arms and legs around him, desperate for him to stay with you.

He brought you to the bedroom, pulling down the sheets with his right hand while still cradling you with his other. Bending over to place you down you squeezed him harder, “Please don’t go,” you whispered in his ear.

“I’m not going anywhere (Y/N), not anymore.”

You released him and watched him go back to the bathroom and shut off the lights before coming back and climbing into bed fully naked. Ren came up behind you and started to pull off your robe, kissing your bare skin when it came into contact with the room's cold air.

“I promise (Y/N), never again” he cooed before pulling you into his embrace and the two of you were lulled to sleep.

TAGLIST: @finn-ray-nal-beads @morby @kirah36 @onlykyloscenes @clumsycopy @candycanes19 @desiraypark @direnightshade

*Here is our necklace from Tiffany: https://www.tiffany.com/jewelry/necklaces-pendants/elsa-peretti-color-by-the-yard-pendant-62464399/

**Here is the wine we are having, it’s my sister’s favorite red wine and it's honestly not that bad: https://www.wine.com/product/juggernaut-hillside-cabernet-sauvignon-2017/532155?state=CA&s=GoogleBase_CSE_532155_type_Wine_RedWine_CabernetSauvignon_261&utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_term=&utm_campaign=Google_Shopping_Smart_CA_Relaunch&showpromo=true&promo=PSCASE10&gclid=Cj0KCQjwpNr4BRDYARIsAADIx9wTNMJgAuhl1zWgoZEny8NAfa4vYZmIzTH446JIQfJ5NE9upZGPAGgaAk0eEALw_wcB&gclsrc=aw.ds#promoBarModal

#adam driver #adamdriver #kylo ren #kylo trash #kylo x reader #modern kylo ren #clyde logan #flip zimmerman #phillip altman #toby grisoni #jamie massey

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manandmachines · 3 years

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Meta on muses and religion

Scott was born and raised Jewish from his mom and safta. His dad Robert, though born Jewish, isn’t exactly religious since growing up in Soviet Russia. His mother Ruth and his safta Jadzia are Polish, Ruth being born sometime during WWII, while her parents were on the run. The war would leave Jadzia a single mother who’d raise Ruth to never hide who she was, who would in turn pass that onto her son.

Scott’s never denied being Jewish, and considers himself a reformist Jew. He even wears a chai bracelet given to him by his safta most of the time.

Chai in Judaism means “life,” and also refers to the number 18, which is considered the number of life, because each Hebrew letter has a numerical equivalent. It’s the sum of two Hebrew letters —chet (ח) (8) and yud (י) (10) which makes 18. He wears more often than not as a reminder of what he’s out to protect while being a superhero.

Some Reform Jews reject the idea of a Messiah as an actual person. They do not believe that the leadership of one person is required to achieve a Messianic Age. Instead, Reform Jews believe that ordinary people have the power to bring about a peaceful and prosperous age by carrying out good actions. An idea that Scott holds close to his heart, especially with being Ant-Man. Scott holds strong to his leaders like Sam and Steve, but really believes the team together is what’ll really bring change to the world.

Although Scott hasn’t been able to practice as much as he’d like to, it’s not for lack of faith but lack of time. He used to celebrate the Shabbat about every Friday with his parents growing up, but Ant-Man duties leave him able to celebrate at least one Friday a month. Still making time at least to call his parents on Friday to talk and update them on his life and share a prayer.

With Scott being reformist, he doesn’t exactly follow kosher rules, but he does go out to serve only kosher foods when it’s time for Shabbat, as is his family tradition with Ruth being raised more traditionally. He’ll also make time the next day on Saturday morning after Shabbat to visit his local synagogue.

He also celebrated his Bar Mitzvah at 13, and hopes to hold a Bat Mitzvah for Cassie at that same age, which is the same celebration like what he had, but for women. He also speaks fluent Hebrew and taught that to Cassie as well.

I also headcanon Maggie to be Jewish, and they were both married at his parents synagogue in Florida, and like his parents, both Scott and Maggie’s wedding rings are both simple bands. This is because of an old tradition where the worth of the ring is measured in weight, and so there’s no stones to alter the weight and value. Both Scott and Maggie also chose the old fashioned route to wear their rings on the left forefinger, because the vein there leads up to your heart, and Scott just thought as man of science, that was pretty neat. Everything was followed by the seven blessings, Scott breaking the glass and a celebratory mazel tov.

If Scott were to ever get remarried to a non Jewish partner, he’d want to at least do another glass breaking. As he heard of a new way couples do it where they break wine glasses together, instead of just a man breaking a lightbulb (or just any glass thing, really, but it’s typically a light bulb)

And do not worry thinking I’ll have to change his face claim, as Paul Rudd himself is Jewish, with his parents being descended from Ashkenazi Jewish immigrants who had moved to England from Belarus, Poland, and Russia.

Being born to third generation Romanian immigrants, Bucky grew up Roman Catholic and often would go to mass with his mother on Sundays. He’d be baptized sometime after Rebecca, since his family was living in Indiana around the time he was born, and couldn’t do it then due to the lack of Catholic churches in the area. Luckily Winnie was finally able to arrange a service for both Becky and Bucky when they had finally settled in Brooklyn, and would go on to baptize the rest of her daughters as well.

The family would go on to celebrate the usual holidays associated with Catholicism, such as the Holy week, Christmas and Easter, as well as Lent.

His father was also not religious due to the trauma from being off fighting in WWI. He’d never go into detail with his distrust in a higher power, but whenever Bucky questioned George as to why he never came to service, George would just reply on how God just wasn’t as kind to some people as he was to others.

He’d think about that sometimes when he went to service, but never thought about it terribly until getting drafted. Then did he really see what dear old dad meant all those years ago in the garage after service when Bucky went to bring him up for lunch.

Religion was really the last of his concerns being the Winter Soldier, again with how Soviet Russia was on religion and I doubt anybody in the Red Room cared about God, with how they were trying to play it with making the girls into weapons of war.

He hasn’t been to service since. Simply taking after the words of his father that God’s not as kind to some people as he is to others.

Neyti was never religious, but however did arrange for subjects to learn about popular religions throughout the galaxy in the idea it’d make them better at handling patients with certain beliefs. Rocket finds the whole idea of religion to be another human hang up and hardly if ever thinks about it, despite having clashed with several Gods of several types. He doesn’t believe in another side, just instead that everyone turns into dust someday.

...although he does like the sound of that reincarnation stuff. The idea that you’ll come out of this life into something either better or worse. He like to think...if it is real, then he’d like to come back as something good. Maybe bring him back as what he was supposed to be before the cybernetics and endless knowing. Back in that little time of peace he had before being turned into what he is now.

#「 Thank you for coming to my TED talk ║ Headcanons 」#|| well since it's headcanon Monday #do let me know if anything I've posted is incorrect #this took several hours

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herkawaiinovels · 4 years

Text

[SS] Chapter 9

T/N: Now playing: Can’t Go - Ben

Duke Tonz’ fancy carriage was running towards the Moran estate, where the garden party was being held. And inside was Roman and Cecia, both well-dressed.

The wardrobe of the two people sitting opposite each other were tailored to show anyone looking that they were partners. It was an unofficial event meant to announce the two were lovers.

“Are you nervous?”

“A little bit.”

The carriage entered the Moran estate. After a while, the door of the carriage opened, and Roman descended first. Then he reached out to Cecia.

Cecia grasped his hand and carefully got off the wagon. The eyes of the people in the party turned toward them.

“Remember, your partner isn’t just anyone.”

Roman extended his arm toward Cecia.

“So, you can have confidence.”

Cecia looked at Roman. His confident gaze was directed at her. Just because the Royne's, formerly a commoner’s family, received the aristocratic title as a ‘Viscount’ did not mean they were accepted by the aristocratic society. Cecia hated socializing because of the nobles who thought they had different origins.

However, Roman’s eyes did not contain the arrogance that other nobles had. What a strange man. Judging by his actions, more than anyone, he was quite an arrogant man. But never once had she seen him act this way towards her. Rather, he was always considerate toward her.

Cecia linked her arm around his.

“Shall we?”

As her face brightened, a gentle smile remained around Roman’s mouth.

***

When Prillance headed toward the crowded area, it was already lively all around.

At the center was Roman. Aristocratic daughters and wives gathered around him like herds. After seeing the scene, she took a deep breath and stepped toward them.

When Prillance appeared, people's eyes turned to her. It was because of the incoming encounter between Roman and Prillance.

In social circles, Roman and Prillance were a pair. It wasn't a pair in the sense of a couple, but more in a bad sense, just like a needle and thread. It was a situation where wherever Roman goes, Prillance always follows.

After seeing the strange tussles between Roman and Prillance, it became a kind of spectacle for the aristocrats to see which one of the two would give up first.

Perhaps that was why as soon as she appeared, the people en route to Roman naturally gave way.

“I greet the Duke.”

“It’s been a while, Lady Weiand.”

Of course, their interaction started as it usually did. The eyes of the curious nobles were on them. But something unexpected happened next.

“Would you like a drink?”

“Thank you.”

Roman handed her a champagne first. And naturally, Prillance accepted. The current interaction was obviously not the usual.

It was strange that Roman took care of her, and that Prillance wasn't mad at him for coming here with another partner.

“I see you came with someone else?”

Prillance bumped her glass against his and asked him in a voice that would be heard only by Roman. She drank the champagne, with a smile still hanging on her face.

“You already know but still ask.”

Roman's mouth also had a calm smile.

“Didn’t you also come with someone else?”

“There is another man whom I have asked to be engaged with, so how could I?“

The two looked pretty friendly.

“I heard you took the walk that you couldn't do last time.”

“…As always, you are still updated with my daily life.”

As she heard him talk about her recent activities, Prillance barely managed to straighten her face as it was about to harden by itself.

“I’m just living up to your expectations. Interest in yourself, wasn't that what you wanted?”

He gave an unwavering face and response. Prillance gripped the champagne glass.

“Then please do one more thing that meets my expectations.”

Prillance handed over the glass of champagne she received from Roman to a servant passing by and politely raised the hem of her dress.

“Will you dance one song with me?”

Then she smiled beautifully and extended her hand toward Roman. People around her gasped. Usually, aristocratic dances were performed at the request of men. It was a virtue as an aristocrat woman to sit still and wait for the men's invitation.

It wasn't just the people around her who were surprised. She had always been reckless when it came to chasing him, but Prillance had never crossed societal norms before. Out of surprise, Roman, who was asked to dance by her, didn’t think to take her hand. Instead, he just kept looking at her gently bent, slightly unusual face.

“Are you going to shame a lady's hand?”

Prillance asked once more as he showed no inclination of grasping her hand. She had no intention of stepping down. She had to unconditionally dance with Roman.

Roman, who looked bewildered for a moment, had no choice but to laugh out loud.

“It’ll be quite an honor.”

As Roman took Prillance's hand, he thought Prillance had become quite amusing.

***

After receiving a note, Cecia left the crowded place, and went to the garden without thinking. However, it wasn’t before she arrived at the place, which was quite far from where the people gathered, that she realized this might have been a trap.

Holding her dress, her hurried pace changed into a cautious walk.

Prillance said she was just going to get a drink and come back. However, she did not show up even after some time had passed. Ver was about to move, thinking he should have gone instead of her, when he suddenly heard someone approaching.

“Is that you, Lady?”

However, neither did anyone pass by nor did Ver’s question get answered.

Cecia was staring at him.

It was her former fiancé, Ver Grant. The person she missed so much. The person she thought of every time she closed her eyes. He was here.

But even though she was happy to see him, she hid her body in the large tree in front of her. Even now, Cecia’s automatic reaction was to avoid him.

“You must never meet! Even if you cross paths, you need to pretend that you didn’t see him! Do you understand?”

That was what she had heard every day from her father, Ben, after her engagement with Ver was broken. It was a face she longed to see so much. But now that he was finally in front of her, her body reacted before her head.

And yet Ironically, even now she wanted him to come and find her.

Since they were young, Ver had always been good at seeking the hidden Cecia. Whenever they went to the market and she got lost, or whenever she sneaked out as they took a walk, when she looked back, he was always there.

Whenever she cried, he always used to guarantee he could find her anywhere. Surely, he will find her again this time.

'Please, find me.'

Cecia closed her eyes and prayed. If Ver finds her, she will show him her happiest smile and throw herself in his arms.

Perhaps she’ll ask why he hasn’t come to visit her, crying like a child and whining in his arms. Then with a flustered face, he will wipe her tears and hold her in a strong embrace. Finally, he will kiss her forehead and tell her not to cry.

Since all the gardens here were part of the party venue, there was no guarantee that no one would come here. Hence, Ver thought it might have been a couple who was in search of a private place.

Eventually, he decided to move on and look for Prillance.

Ver's footsteps gradually drew closer. But contrary to Cecia's wishes, Ver soon receded into the distance.

In the end, he couldn't find her.

Ever since their engagement was broken, he hadn't visited her. Her body, full of tension, sank into despair.

'Should I run? And then just embrace you from behind?'

When Cecia grasped the hem of her dress and tried to take one step forward, she was suddenly reminded of her father, Viscount Ben, and Roman who took care of her today.

Eventually, Cecia couldn't take a single step.

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#Side Story

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rosethornewrites · 4 years

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Fic: the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break, ch. 7

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Wēn Qíng, Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín, Granny Wēn, Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī, Wēn Remnants, Wen Meilin, Fourth Uncle

Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Secrets, Crying, Masks, Soulmates, Truth, Self-Esteem Issues, Regret, It was supposed to be a one-shot, Fix-It, Eventual Relationships, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, wwx needs a hug, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Filial Piety, Handfasting, Phobias, Sleeping Together, Fear, Panic Attacks, Love Confessions, Getting Together, First Kiss, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Family, and they were married, Bathing/Washing, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Feels, Sex Education

Summary: A little making out, and family time.

Notes: Soft chapter, but one that was difficult to write. Definitely look up the song Wei WuXian plays on the dizi. There’s a version on YouTube played with the xiao, and it’s lovely. Last week of summer semester, so it might be a bit before I update.

AO3 link

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

------------------

Though at first their teeth collide a few times, Lan WangJi discovers that kissing, as with anything else, is a skill one can improve with practice. He is startled a bit when Wei Ying opens his mouth to deepen the kiss, but he finds the sensation of his tongue against his own more than enjoyable.

He finds it even more enjoyable to be able to finally give attention to the mole under his lip that has taunted him all these years. Wei Ying seems to realize his focus because he laughs, joyous and breathless and beautiful.

Lan WangJi hooks his arm around Wei Ying to pull him closer, but he freezes at his pained hiss.

Of course; Wei Ying was injured by Wen Ning, and likely hurt himself last night falling to the hard cave floor in his haste to escape the dog spirit.

As much as he would prefer to continue this, Lan WangJi forces himself to stop. He can’t help but remember Wei Ying’s reminder that their union hasn’t been consummated, and that doesn’t make it easier. He has, after all, been waiting since he was fifteen.

“You are injured,” he says softly, sitting. “And malnourished.”

Wei Ying pouts, but doesn’t protest vocally or move to get up, which tells Lan WangJi he truly is in pain, and judging from the way his eyelids are drooping, absolutely in need of more sleep.

“I will meditate here, and we will have breakfast together when you wake. We should also discuss my brother’s impending visit.”

“Ah, I guess you want to tell him we’re married, then?” Wei Ying says with a sigh. “Can we at least ask him to keep quiet about it until after shijie’s wedding? She deserves better than to have her happy day overshadowed.”

Lan WangJi has not, in fact, thought yet of how he will tell his brother he married Wei Ying all those years ago and neglected to tell him. But he does agree that the news should not detract from the marriage of Jiang YanLi and Jin ZiXuan, though he disagrees with the idea that the their marriage could be a dark thing.

“Agreed, but…”

He pauses, considering how to say what comes next, how not to risk driving Wei Ying away again.

“Please consider telling my brother you no longer have a golden core, if not the circumstances,” Lan WangJi finally says.

He is relieved when Wei Ying doesn’t pull away, only grimaces, but his relief is short-lived.

“You think he’s more apt to help if he knows I’m broken,” he whispers.

Lan WangJi feels his jaw drop, horror rising as he realizes just how deeply Wei Ying’s self-loathing goes. He wishes he could assure him of his own worth, but he also knows it will take time to convince him. But this, he knows, is his fault. He did not help Wei Ying until he knew the truth, when he should have helped from the beginning, should have trusted him.

Does Wei Ying believe he pities him? The idea chafes.

“You are not broken,” he tells him, “and certainly not simply by virtue of being without a golden core.”

Wei Ying snorts derisively.

“Then what am I? A cultivator who can only cultivate on the crooked path?”

Lan WangJi gently pulls Wei Ying closer until he’s pillowed in his lap, until he can look at him directly, if upside down.

“Wei Ying is Wei Ying. You need be nothing more.”

His zhiji looks away, his eyes shining in the dim candlelight. Lan WangJi feels helpless in the face of his despondency, knows he is in part the cause.

“I haven’t even told Jiang Cheng. He’s going to be so angry.”

He understands; the secret involves his brother, and he has a duty to tell him first, regardless of how long it will be before he sees him next. Wei Ying’s public break with the Jiang clan makes that uncertain, and it is not the sort of revelation that would be appropriate in a letter. In fact, if it were known he sent a letter to Jiang Cheng at all, problems could arise.

Perhaps XiChen could send one on their behalf, though, asking Jiang Cheng to at least visit in secret.

“I will tell no one, Wei Ying. Not even xiongzhang, if you do not wish it. But… eventually you will no longer be able to hide it.”

Lan WangJi strokes Wei Ying’s cheek, hating to have to think about or reference the inevitability of his mortality. Hating that it is an inevitability.

“I ask only that you consider it, nothing more. I will honor whatever decision you make.”

Wei Ying doesn't reply, instead curls closer, shifts until his face is hidden against Lan WangJi’s side, his arms around his waist, his body further in his lap.

“You are not broken,” he repeats, running his hand through Wei Ying’s hair. “You are beautiful and honorable.”

He wishes the rest of the world could see Wei Ying as he does.

In the silence, he has little to focus on, noting the brittleness of his hair, how it seems as unhealthy as the rest of Wei Ying. But Lan WangJi has never had much opportunity to touch him this way—after XuanWu and when he fell after Wen RuoHan’s death notwithstanding.

Neither are pleasant memories, particularly the latter. The image of Wen RuoHan dangling Wei Ying by the throat over the steps of Nightless City still fills him with dread. He was certain then he was about to witness his zhiji’s death, to watch his neck snapped, to see him tossed aside like a broken doll.

Afterward, in the days he was unconscious, watching the bruises around his throat fade slowly, fearing he may never wake again as his spiritual energy did not seem to be recovering… It did not recover, but it was not, as he suspected then, due to demonic cultivation.

Lan WangJi wishes he realized sooner. He will always wish that he somehow was able to help Wei Ying more, will always feel the sting of having failed him for so long.

Wei Ying’s breathing evens slowly as he falls asleep, and Lan WangJi matches his breathing. Though he has never attempted meditation with someone in his lap, his zhiji’s presence is soothing, and he slips into the necessary trance easily.

He slips out of it just as easily a couple hours later when he hears footsteps approaching their chamber of the cave. From the sound, very short legs, the pace puttering against the stone and dirt of the cave.

Lan WangJi is unsurprised when a-Yuan enters. The child surveys them quietly for a moment.

“Xian-gege sad?” he finally asks.

Only then does Lan WangJi remember that Wei Ying is asleep in his lap, arms still twined around his waist.

“Mn,” he says with a nod.

Because despite Wei Ying’s happiness at his insistence that he indeed wanted to be married to him, his request regarding his brother upset him. And it had taken far too much convincing for his liking for Wei Ying to believe he was worthy of him.

“Hugs make me feel better when I’m sad,” the child says. “I can hug Xian-gege, too.”

Lan WangJi nods again, and a-Yuan toddles over and chooses the most expedient way to deliver a hug: flopping onto Wei Ying and then hugging him.

He resists the urge to scold the child when Wei Ying wakes with a pained grunt, and instead lifts a-Yuan off, settling him on one knee.

“Ah, a-Yuan, be careful,” Wei Ying murmurs, his voice a bit strained. “You’re getting big.”

“Xian-gege needed hugs. And gugu said you need to wake up for breakfast. And popo said you’re too skinny.”

“Popo always says that.”

Wei Ying winces when he sits up, which lets Lan WangJi know Wen Qing should examine him. He hopes he will not injure as easily once he’s in better health.

“She is not wrong, Wei Ying.”

He pulls a face in response, but can’t help but laugh when a-Yuan imitates him.

“All right, all right. Let’s go eat.”

Lan WangJi is relieved when Wei Ying doesn’t need help getting up, though he doubts very much he would ask if he did. He carries a-Yuan with them, and the boy seems content with being carried.

“I did not inquire yesterday about bathing facilities,” he comments as they make their way to the communal area.

Wei Ying laughs shortly.

“‘Bathing facilities.’ You’re so proper. We have a river, Lan Zhan. That and basins and rags. That’s about it right now.”

The river was practical, but not in the long term. Perhaps that was something to address with Wen Qing, then, whether tubs could be purchased. Before winter, when bathing in a river would be less than ideal.

“I know you’re used to better, but I’ll show you where later today,” Wei Ying says. “Honestly, I’m probably overdue for a wash myself.”

“Xian-gege stinky?”

Wei Ying drops back to tickle a-Yuan.

“Stinky, eh? You just wait, stinky radish. I’m sure your gugu will want us to give you a bath, too.”

“A-Yuan not stinky!” the boy squeals with a giggle.

Wei Ying darts in and makes a show of smelling him.

“Oh, my little radish is ripe. It’s almost time to pick him and cook him up for dinner!”

“No cook a-Yuan!” he shrieks, still giggling, as they enter the communal area.

“Oh? Should we sell the little radish at market instead?”

“Noooooo! Gugu, tell Xian-gege!”

Wen Qing scowls at Wei Ying, but it’s without heat, a sort of play-acting likely affected for a-Yuan’s amusement.

“I swear sometimes you’re a child yourself,” she mutters.

“Xianxian is three,” Wei Ying sings with a grin.

“Brat,” she says, rolling her eyes, her voice fond.

They’re a family here, Lan WangJi has come to see. The closeness of their relationships brings light to the darkness of the Burial Mounds. He is glad they have been there for his zhiji when he has not.

Wei Ying winces when he settles on one of the seats and Wen Qing’s sharp gaze catches it. She looks between them with an expression that looks far too amused, and despite the fact that her assumption is incorrect, Lan WangJi can feel his ears heat.

“Dog spirit,” he explains. “Wei Ying fell.”

Wen Qing’s expression shifts to concern. It’s clear she knows of Wei Ying’s phobia.

“The damn thing came back again?”

Lan WangJi glances at Wei Ying—he didn’t mention it had bothered him on previous occasions.

“Bad dog,” a-Yuan contributes.

“Lan Zhan eliminated it this time,” Wei Ying says, avoiding both their gazes.

Wen Qing shoots him a grateful look.

“Last time he knocked into the cave wall and almost broke his nose,” she tells him. “Hopefully all he’s got this time is a few bruises, but at least it won’t be back.”

She turns her attention back to Wei Ying.

“I’ll examine you after breakfast to be sure. Cooperate or I’ll make you.”

“Aiya, no needles, Qing-jie! No need to bully me.”

Wei Ying grabs a-Yuan from Lan WangJi’s lap to use as a shield. The boy just giggles, like this is a common occurrence. Knowing his propensity for dramatics, it probably is.

“A-Ning is giving you double portions today,” Wen Qing continues, ignoring his antics. “And I’ll trust Hanguang-Jun to make sure you’re not feeding it to a-Yuan. He’s getting plenty, too, and we have radishes ready to harvest in a few days so we’ll be fine with food for a little while at least.”

She glares at him when he looks like he might protest.

“You’re unhealthy and everyone is worried about you. Popo was encouraging me to use needles and find a way to shove it down your throat earlier. Don’t think I won’t resort to that.”

Wei Ying, thankfully, takes her seriously enough to behave throughout breakfast. He eats enough that even popo, who seats herself at their table and manages to look both sweet and intimidating throughout the meal, seems satisfied.

True to her threat, Wen Qing has popo take charge of a-Yuan and drags a lightly protesting Wei Ying back to the Demon Subduing Cave to be examined. Lan WangJi hesitates, but follows at his zhiji’s pleading look.

“Sit,” Wen Qing orders when they’ve reached the alcove “I want to make sure you didn’t break anything, at least. You have horrid luck. Where did you fall?”

“Shoulder and hip,” Wei Ying says with a resigned sigh. “But it’s really not—”

He goes silent at her glare, which Lan WangJi has to admit is formidable.

“Don’t even,” she huffs. “You always lie about your injuries. Strip.”

Wei Ying, to Lan WangJi’s surprise, actually blushes, glancing at him. Wen Qing takes notice, looking between them.

“Ah, you told him, then?”

She looks almost amused.

“Wait, you told her?”

Lan WangJi almost winces at the bit of hurt in his tone.

“That he’s besotted with you? Any fool could tell, except you,” Wen Qing snaps.

“I did not tell her,” Lan WangJi confirms.

He is a little concerned when a slightly gleeful look passed over Wei Ying’s face, replaced with one that is utterly fond.

“So I was the first one you told that you handfasted me when we were sixteen?”

Wen Qing makes a noise that sounds almost like a choke, looking at them uncertainly.

“I did not even tell xiongzhang,” he confirms. “I would tell no one without telling you first.”

Wei Ying’s expression turns to one of adoration, and Lan WangJi starts mentally reciting the Lan principles, as he is sorely tempted to revisit their morning activities.

Wen Qing is still staring at them, and Lan WangJi takes pity, explaining in brief what occurred in the Cold Spring cave, with Wei Ying contributing details. He finishes by explaining the meaning of the forehead ribbons in a wedding ceremony and the bow to Lan Yi as essentially an elopement.

“You’re married?” Wen Qing murmurs, her voice hoarse with shock. “Married.”

Her gaze turns shrewd.

“Has it been consummated?”

It’s Wei Ying’s turn to choke.

“Qing-jie!”

Lan WangJi doesn’t trust himself to answer verbally and simply shakes his head.

To his surprise, she starts pacing, hands clasped behind her back. He didn’t expect her to be someone who paces.

“And you want to be wed, correct?” she asks after a moment.

Wei Ying’s “definitely” and Lan WangJi’s “of course” are simultaneous.

“Good,” she says, her tone surprisingly emphatic, as she turns to them. “So you’ve had quite an extended engagement, and we can figure out what this idiot gave as courting gifts since you bought a-Yuan toys and provided the Burial Mounds with money. I hate to simplify what is obviously a love match to political terms, but you need to consummate before Zewu-Jun arrives, in anticipation of the question of its validity.”

Lan WangJi can feel his ears heating, and Wei Ying’s face blushes more fetchingly than before. Wen Qing looks between them, and her brief look of glee is ever more concerning than Wei Ying’s was.

“Well, since you’re both clearly virgins—”

She ignores the “hey!” from Wei Ying.

“—and I am familiar with all forms of sexual hygiene as a doctor, I’ll go ahead and explain exactly what you’ll need to do to make it a safe and enjoyable experience.”

Wei Ying’s jaw drops. Wen Qing gestures for Lan WangJi to sit, and he’s honestly grateful to as she starts talking. She brusquely yanks Wei Ying’s robes from his shoulder to check his injuries as she does, and Lan WangJi has to avert his gaze from his zhiji’s milky skin to avoid reacting to it.

He cannot deny he has thought quite a bit about what he wanted to do with Wei Ying very often almost since first meeting him. Wen Qing’s very detailed and blunt explanations make those imaginings far less fuzzy than they were before. She even includes a discussion of aftercare, advising they keep a basin of water and rags nearby for the “mess.” By the time she’s finished, Wei Ying’s very red face is buried in his hands, and Lan WangJi has to avert his gaze as she pulls his trousers away from his hip, revealing the curve of one bruised buttock.

“And I guess I’ll have to send Merlin-yi to market for the oil,” Wen Qing says as she wraps up both her lecture and her examination. “I’ll send a-Ning, too. Even if we can’t provide a proper banquet, a marriage deserves celebration. You’re family, Wei WuXian, and we’ll do our best.”

“Qing-jie,” Wei Ying whispers, sounding touched.

She offers him a smile and shoves his robes at him.

“If we could afford red silk, we’d throw a whole wedding. You don’t mind the others knowing, right? They’ll be very happy for you.”

Lan WangJi glances at Wei Ying, careful to keep his eyes on his face—he may be wearing trousers, but he might as well be naked and it’s terribly distracting. The look on his face assures him he doesn’t mind, so he nods affirmation to Wen Qing.

“It’s just some bruising, thankfully,” she assures them. “I’d put on salve, but I heard you discussing bathing at the river, so I’ll leave that for later. It’d be a waste to apply it twice.”

Wei Ying pulls his robes on, still red in the face.

“Right, a bath.”

His gaze is shy when he looks at Lan WangJi, who is trying to imagine how they’ll get through bathing together without engaging in some of the activities described by Wen Qing.

Some of that thought must have been apparent to Wei Ying, because his face flushed again.

Wen Qing snorts.

“Not so shameless after all, are you? We’ll be sure to give the river a wide berth.”

Wei Ying’s response is to hide his face in his hands again.

“We will bathe separately,” Lan WangJi states, pulling Wei Ying to his feet.

Wen Qing just laughs at them.

When they reach the river, which is a short trek from the settlement, Lan WangJi insists Wei Ying bathe first, pulling the fragrant soaps he uses for his body and hair from is qiankun pouch for him to use. He knows they are likely a luxury, and he is happy to share it with him.

He plays his guqin while his zhiji bathes, starting with “WangXian” and moving into “Cleansing,” infusing the latter with spiritual energy. He is pleased when the resentful energy in the area eases, and hopes it helps Wei Ying as well.

When Wei Ying returns, clad in fresh robes, he takes his own turn to bathe. The water is chilly, but not inordinately so in the summer heat. He is pleased when the notes of a dizi fill the air, playing “WangXian” as well. Though he composed the song with the guqin in mind, the rendition Wei Ying plays on ChenQing is lovely. Lan WangJi is glad it has brought him comfort.

The notes shift into what he recognizes as “Plum-Blossom in Three Movements,” a song he rather likes but didn’t know Wei Ying knew. Lan WangJi has heard xiongzhang play it on the xiao and can play it on the guqin, though it was originally composed for the dizi. But he shouldn’t be surprised; Wei Ying is a master of the six arts and has displayed such with references to literature and poetry even in his playful moments.

The plum blossom is an apt symbol for the resilience of life on the Burial Mounds and for Wei Ying, who always endured despite the hardships he faced. Perhaps the song is an expression of Wei Ying’s hope, his faith in Lan WangJi. He wants to give his zhiji hope, longs to ease his hardships.

When he has finished and dressed in fresh robes, he rejoins Wei Ying and asks if he may comb his hair.

He uses his own sandalwood scented oil, giving it the proper treatment.

Wei Ying is swaying slightly when he finishes, the pampering lulling him nearly to sleep. Lan WangJi longs to style his hair, to put it in the GusuLan style as though Wei Ying was marrying into his clan. But he is not, and so he refrains.

Instead he brushes the hair from the nape of his neck, leaning forward to brush his lips against the soft hair there.

Wei Ying shivers and turns to him, pulling him in for a proper kiss before taking the comb and hair oil from him to return the favor.

Lan WangJi didn’t expect the sensuality of his husband brushing his hair—husband. They’re married. Wei Ying’s deft fingers make short work of his tangles, gently spread oil to treat his hair, grazing his scalp in blossoms of sensation, love in every touch.

Wei Ying braids his hair, his fingers weaving the locks with care, and Lan WangJi lets him. He is not in Cloud Recesses, not required to wear his hair in GusuLan style. When it is finished he turns to see a flourish of red, Wei Ying having used his own ribbon to tie off the braid.

And so it is natural to braid his hair in return, to weave the sacred ribbon that usually rests on his forehead in his hair, leaving the cloud symbol at the top, adorning the top of the braid like a jewel.

“Your forehead ribbon?” Wei Ying asks, startled, when he catches sight of the very pale blue ribbon tying his hair off.

Lan WangJi cups his cheek in his hand, moving forward until their noses are almost touching.

“Airen, you may touch it.”

A soft smile blossoms on Wei Ying’s face, and he rests his forehead against Lan WangJi’s.

“Airen. I like that,” he breathes.

They stay like that for a while, basking in each other’s presence.

#my fanfiction #the untamed #untamed fanfiction #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #mdzs fanfic #mdzs fanfiction #chen qing ling #cql #cql fanfic #cql fanfiction #lan zhan #lan wangji #wei wuxian #wen qing #wei ying #lan yuan #wen yuan

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raygoodwinmajournal · 4 years

Photo

101 - Psychogeography and Walking Photographic Practice

It is funny how ideas, thoughts and philosophies can eventually find themselves to meld together with one’s own practice - even from years ago. When I started taking photography seriously, I didn’t necessarily have an aim to where I was going or what I was going to shoot. I enjoyed the idea of just going out with my camera, and taking photos of things that I find within the environment that I would find myself in. This was heightened by my previous interest in street photography, which was mostly inspired by watching countless hours of DigitalRev TV videos on YouTube, with Kai and Lok wandering the streets of Hong Kong reviewing camera equipment with a comedic and sarcastic tone which I enjoyed. By watching these videos, I was inspired to just go out with my camera and see what I could find, almost as if I was hunting for that particular shot. What was different then, was that I was photographing people which is completely on the different end of the photographic spectrum that I undertake now.

Man with Cat - September 2016 - Canon EOS 650, 50mm F1.8 STM - Ilford XP2 Super

Eventually, I would undertake this practice of going out with my camera to an undisclosed location with an old friend of mine, Thom. Before the lockdown ridden restricted world we live in now, I would hop on a train, travel to places such as Exeter, Teignmouth, Torquay, Newton Abbot and Plymouth to meet up with him and wander around to different locations, often accompanied with some VSOP fuelled coffee and miscellaneous ramblings about philosophy and pop culture. At the time, I didn’t realise what I was undertaking and that it was also being practiced by many other people, and there was a whole philosophy around it and where it all came from. It wasn’t until I researched more into what psychogeography was, I learned that it was Guy Debord that coined and refined the term - a person who I researched in my earlier work around The Society of the Spectacle, which focused on the society being a spectacle, commodity fetishism and loosely recycled ideas of Marxism. Another aspect which relates to psychogeography is the flaneur; one who saunters around and observes society. Sound familiar?

Psychogeography is the melding of psychology and geography, both things that would seemingly be unrelated, but by putting them together, we find a term which has its aim on how a particular space makes us feel and what the space really is upon inspection. Often, we drift from place to place without really taking in what we are seeing or feeling. These are often non-places, which Marc Auge hypotheses in Non-Places: Introduction to an Anthropology of Supermodernity. Auge sets out to describe how it is that our stage of modernity creates transitional and temporary spaces, particularly motorways, shopping centres and transportation terminals. These are just a few examples of spaces where time isn’t spent in large quantities, places where we are transitioning from A to Z, where these spaces are somewhere between B to Y, often of little notoriety and mostly anonymous in location. These non-places are sometimes barren, with no people around, quiet and uncanny. Feelings of being isolated, alienated, estranged and listless are just some emotions that can be felt in these depersonalised landscapes, but only if one can really take in their surroundings to just what it is they are surrounded by.

It is of course no secret that I undertake a walking practice. More often than not, I don’t have a bulletproof plan for what it is that I am looking for. Usually, I head in a direction and see what happens. This is because I like to observe my surroundings and take in what is around me, and to see what invokes the feelings and emotions that I want to convey. This means that I end up in some strange places, with the feelings only heightened by what I am listening to through my headphones, or the deafening silence if not. On the odd occasion, I would trawl through Google Earth, dropping pins on potential locations which could work. This can only be found out if I walk to these particular locations and what I can find on the way, yet as Street View sometimes hasn’t been updated since 2009, some places simply either don’t exist or have been changed completely. But, this brings up an interesting area to psychogeography, which is the history of the place which can often turn into a palimpsest of itself.

Plymouth is a good example of a geographic palimpsest, as Plymouth’s history is rich and varied, and being mostly destroyed during the many air raids undertaken by the Luftwaffe, the city had to be completely rebuilt with Sir Patrick Abercrombie and James Paton Watson setting an ambitious plan to make Plymouth a hive of activity and a city to marvel. The main city was surrounded by a loop, with a central spine running through. The remains of the historic buildings were replaced with concrete brutalist monoliths and limestone structures, with some traces of the past surviving the brutal attacks on the city. An example of this is Charles Church, which was mostly destroyed in 1941 from incendiary bombs, but now acts as a memorial to those that died during the raids, and takes pride of place in a roundabout, directing traffic across the city and also being mostly inaccessible due to the high rate of traffic. Yet, the church is surrounded by contemporary architecture which are often labelled as ugly or terribly designed, such as Drake Circus winning the first ever Carbuncle Cup, voted as the worst new building in the United Kingdom in 2006 (Designing Buildings, 2020).

At the core of psychogeography, is how the location plays upon one’s psyche, to really take in what it is that surrounds us and observing details about how it is created, what features within it and how being put together, it makes one feel. It is only by walking to these places we can truly exist in the temporary spaces, with Will Self describing the walker as ‘an insurgent against the contemporary world, an ambulatory time traveller.’ (Independent, 2011). Iain Sinclair is a notable name within the psychogeographical field, walking the entirety of the M25 which encompasses London and noting what he felt and saw, noting the opening on the M25 was ‘the end of London and its liberties’ (Guardian, 2003), with the M25 replacing the Thames’ job of shifting contraband and illegal/legal cargo and acting as a circle road that doesn’t go anywhere, with people often getting stuck in their cars, trapped in traffic.

Chelson Meadow - December 2020 - Mamiya 7ii, 65mm F4 , Ilford XP2 Super

The M25 is often surrounded by obscenery, which is a scene filled with obscenity and things which are considered to be obscene. Sinclair cites the Beckton Alp as a good example of obscenery. Beckton Alp is a heap of old gas spoils from the Beckton Gas Works, creating a toxic and lurid ominous mound which found a brief second life as a ski slope for budding ski enthuiasts, and where Stanley Kubric filmed the battle scene at the end of Full Metal Jacket (Guardian, 2003). The Beckton Alp is just one of many inhospitably dangerous aspects that we have created since the industrial revolution, which mirrors Chelson Meadow. Previously reclaimed land and a horse racetrack, it later became a landfill site where it was tufted over with millions of tons of topsoil and turf, with gas escaping from the landfill beneath going back into the National Grid. Upon a quick glance, it looks like a naturally formed hill, but just like Beckton Alp, it is a toxic and harmful mass of detritus and hazardous waste which upon appearance seems like a lovely place for recreation. It is only by walking, acting as a flaneur and using a form of psychogeography can we see these spaces and the impact that they have, as without really looking at what our urban spaces are made of, they are just that; urban spaces. It is only when you deconstruct what it is that manufacturers these spaces, can we allow ourselves to feel and note how it affects our psyche. It also goes back into the space being a palimpsest, either showing parts of its history obviously or obscured by changes over time. This history of the site is as relevant as it is now, as it gives the location a context with how it was then, compared to how it is now.

I have come to the realisation that I am a photographic psychogeographer, or photographic flaneur, with a similar practice to Iain Sinclair where I walk to locations, observe what is around me and how it makes me feel. The spaces that I often find myself by getting lost on the way are isolating from the usually busy streets of the city, mostly being quiet housing estates or derelict industrial estates. Most of the time, these are places where time doesn’t seem to exist, as if it stands still as the wind blows leaves and litter across the road. Without looking at the space with the gaze of a psychogeographer, the place is inherently anonymous and of little notoriety, frequently being unnoticed by the layman and rarely inspected. What I intend to do with my photography is to explore these locations by sauntering from place to place, and invoking feelings of estrangement, isolation, alienation and political malaise of which our system is responsible for, with the spaces reflecting these feelings due to the depersonalised and dehumanised landscapes. And similarly to Sinclair, I document my findings and experiences from the locations that I visit, but in a more catatonic and frantic fashion about how the location plays upon my psyche and reflects upon our state of supermodernity. What Epochal Territories is intended to do is to explore the relationship between these spaces and the feelings that modernity creates, and how modernity is often unfulfilling and laden with ennui. The starkness of the space is also reflected by the monochromatic nature of the photograph, as there is no colour and no joy to be seen, only the territories of the epoch.

Bibliography

Carbuncle Cup (2020). [Online]. Available at https://www.designingbuildings.co.uk/wiki/Carbuncle_Cup. [Accessed on 12/03/2021]

Sinclair, I., (25/10/2003). A circular story. The Guardian. The Guardian. [Online]. Available at http://www.theguardian.com/books/2003/oct/25/featuresreviews.guardianreview27. [Accessed on 12/03/2021]

The Independent (17/09/2011). PsychoGeography: Will Self and Ralph Steadman take Manhattan. [Online]. Available at https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/books/features/psychogeography-will-self-and-ralph-steadman-take-manhattan-5339307.html. [Accessed on 12/03/2021]

#101

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taeguboi · 4 years

Text

“Would You Rather...?” Drabble 06 - Reader x Yoongi [Suga] (Angst / Smut)

Would you rather fight with Yoongi a lot only to have the greatest makeup sex or have sweet sensual sex with Jungkook only once a week (or less) cuz he’s so busy?

This is a lot angstier than a situation I’d actually choose and is faster paced than what I usually write since I tried my hardest to make it a short piece [it’s still like 2.5k words though lmao] so I’m sorry if it loses the vibe because in one paragraph something’s just starting and in the next it’s already done hahhahaha

My new fic masterlist is here (I will no longer be updating the old one)

One last note: I remembered the ‘keep reading’ link this time to not take up your feeds - sorry for before

Send me BTS “Would You Rather…?” questions in my ask box for a drabble

*******

“Say You Love Me”

An aura of suspense filled the room as you were alone with your ex boyfriend for the first time since you two had broken up. It was so bitter towards the end when the two of you were slamming doors and raising voices. It was only a few weeks ago since the two of you mutually decided to break things off in the midst of both your frustrations and anger towards each other.

But now he is standing here in front of you, it feels just like yesterday. Any hint of progress you made in moving on, vanished. Any rational thoughts about what went wrong, faded. Any moments you were convinced you don’t need him, forgotten about.

You only came back to the old house this evening to collect a few things after realising you left a few important documents here. It was just your luck that at the exact same time you had decided to make a visit, so had he. Who is he? Yoongi Min.

“What are you doing here?” you huffed at the sight of him entering the poorly lit living room just moments ago. It seems the electric had been cut off already probably from not paying the bill.

“Hello to you too” Yoongi had retorted.

“Look I’m just here to get a few papers and then I’m outta here so I’d appreciate it if you could just give me my space” you instructed, fumbling about in drawers for what you needed.

“Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” he sighed and although you weren’t looking at him at that time, you could actually hear him folding his arms.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Never mind. What’s the point? We’ve been here already” he grunted.

“You’re right, I think I do know what you mean”

“Yeah, but did you really y/n?” he questioned, voice raising. “Because from what I could tell, I was about to give you my fucking everything and you threw it all back in my face because, and I quote ‘too intense’!”

Things had escalated super fast as he was full on yelling at you once again, just like in the argument that broke you two up.

“Well excuse me for wanting some me time!” you protested, finally finding the sheets of paper you were looking for.

“You call that ‘me time’? Constantly pushing me away whenever I showed you any affection? Dismissing the things I would say about how much I loved you?” he blared in frustration before toning it down again. “You broke me y/n. What else was I supposed to think when all you did was…”

“And you should have trusted me!” you interrupted.

“And I trusted you! I trusted you so fucking much! You pushed me to breaking point though!”

“Just because I didn’t want to spend everyday with you didn’t mean I stopped loving you” you muttered.

“Sorry, what was that?” Yoongi asked in shock. It made your heart sink too.

Love. It was a feeling you were too scared to ever admit. Your heart felt irreparable after the hurt a previous relationship brought you a long time ago. You were frightened when you realised you’d fallen hopelessly in love with Yoongi, but you went for it when he expressed that he wanted to be more than your friend. Yet you couldn’t ever find it in you to tell him you loved him. That you still do.

“I said…” you stammered, unable to repeat yourself.

“You used the word ‘love’” he said, eyebrows furrowed and mouth open in disbelief. “You never said that to me before”

Tears involuntarily escaped your eyes and you let out a sniffle. You put down the stupid papers and you could hear Yoongi take a step closer to you as you tried to dry your eyes, bringing you to this point right now.

“I really did love you Yoongs” you admit, the delayed expression of emotion pouring out. “I was scared, I…”

“...should have told me you were scared, y/n. We were supposed to be able to tell each other everything and anything”

“It’s not always that easy” you remind him.

“It’s not too late either” he adds on, watching you take a seat on the sofa, head in your hands.

He walks over to sit next to you, hand on your shoulder to comfort you. You look up at him, face to face for the first time in what feels like years. Perfectly perfect. His face so handsome and his heart so kind. You hate yourself for hiding from your feelings to the extent that you lost him.

You’re looking into each other’s eyes, reading everything both of you are unable to say. Hurt. Regret. But also love that hasn’t gone, not yet.

It’s almost uncontrollable, your urge to feel his lips pressed against yours once again and before you know it, your head is tilting slightly to one side.

Despite the circumstances, this is the best kiss you’ve ever experienced because of how much you missed Yoongi. You want more and it seems so does he as he kisses you back, leading to a string of passionate, heartfelt kisses.

It only feels natural that your hands begin to explore him, that you get to touch his body again, You stroke a hand down his chest and to his leg. Your hand rests on his leg as you continue with just kissing. You might have gone too far however when you allow for your hand to trail up a little and towards his crotch because he pulls away.

“Y/n I-I-I don’t want to take advantage. You’re vulnerable” he tells you, his breathing heavy from the intensity of the situation.

“I promise I’ll talk, for real… I will, I just… I need this” you tell him desperate for his touch, a sudden rush of lust and desire overcoming you. “I need you Yoongi”

“I need you to tell me you love me” he asks of you, longingly, his hand on your still teary cheek.

You kiss his lips again “I love you” you tell him, followed by a kiss on his cheek. “I love you so fucking much” you continue followed by a kiss on his neck which causes him to groan a little and stroke your hair and in return, you hand starts to stroke along his leg once more.

“I love you too, y/n” he pants with a gulp, adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

“I missed you” you tear up looking back at his face and he cups yours.

“Show me how much you missed me” he demands though his wishes are unclear.

“Anything” you reply.

“Let’s go upstairs” he smiles lovingly, standing up and bringing you up with him. He leads you upstairs and into the old bedroom you once shared.

Before you even reach the bed itself, you’re passionately making out, exploring each other’s bodies, lightly undressing each other as his jacket comes off and his shirt unbuttoned and you kick your shoes off.

“Tell me what you missed about me” he instructs as the two of you sit on the edge of the bed, continuing to make out.

“The way you make me feel” you pant, followed by a couple of kisses. “Your eyes, your smile” you continue to list, allowing Yoongi to kiss your neck, wet sounds resounding deliciously into your ear. “Your kind heart… I was so dumb”

He grabs one of your slightly shaky hands and you get to feel his semi-erect cock through his trousers. “How much did you miss this?” he asks menacingly, purring into your ear.

“So fucking much” you admit.

“I bet you missed this the most, didn’t you?” he challenges.

“No” is all you can utter, chest starting to heave as he places a hand on your trousers, teasing at you increasingly throbbing womanhood.

Yoongi eases you backward so that you’re laying on the bed underneath him as he goes on all fours at your side to hover above you.

“Did you… did you see anyone else while we were apart?” he asks.

“No one” you truthfully tell him.

“Good” he smirks. “Promise me you’re mine” he requests.

“I’m all yours Yoongi” you tell him, providing him with the reassurance he clearly seeks.

Your trousers are tugged at and pulled off in an instant as he swiftly whips them off you to your surprise.

“And this pussy is all mine too then, yeah?”

“Always baby”

Yoongi pushes your pants to one side, desperate to devour you. “I love it when you call me that” he coos, tongue then teasing at your clit.

“Oh, Yoongi!” you exhale in delight even though he’s barely started.

Contrastingly to the kitten licks he just gave you, he presses his tongue flat against you. Sighs of pleasure escape your breath to which he hums contentedly which buzzes pleasurably on your sensitive area.

“So fucking good” you praise as he brings you close to climax.

“Oh, baby” he exclaims, voice vibrating at your clit once more. Yoongi always did love it when you said out loud how good he is in the bedroom. He loves to hear you say his name. He loves to know he’s doing a good job.

“I-I’m close” you moan as his tongue picks up speed with the circles he’s drawing.

At the very last moment, he adds in a finger which slides in with such ease because of your wetness for him. He increases it to two fingers after just a few thrusts and you see stars as he helps you reach orgasm.

“Yoongi! Fuck!” you exclaim at your very peak of pleasure.

“That’s right; say my name” he commands, riding out your high with just his fingers.

“Yoongi… I have to taste you” you state, arousal still high.

“Where did you wanna taste baby?” he teases, fully well knowing the answer to that question.

“Your trousers” you reply, sitting up. “Take them off”

He does exactly as he is told and gets off the bed to unzip and lose the trousers as you climb off the bed.

“Sit in that chair baby” you tell him. “Let me treat you now” you smirk as you watch him sit and then you fall to your knees met by the sight of the bulge that is aching to be freed from his boxers.

You don’t take the boxers off fully; instead you pull them down only enough to reveal what’s underneath.

Yoongi always did have a beautiful cock. It angles a little to his right and his head is a gorgeous, delectable shade of pink. You hold it firmly, precum dripping out onto the back of your hand and you begin to pump up and down slowly, almost painfully slowly.

“Ahhh, don’t tease me babe” he commands, a hand running through your hair. “Let me fuck that pretty little face of yours”

With a few more teasing pumps and licks, you give in, taking him in almost whole the first time he’s in your mouth and Yoongi could swear this is the best your mouth has ever worked on him as he watches your head go up and down. He can’t help but guide your head down to take him in just a little further, hungry for more and it really hits the spot.

“Mmm….” he hums deliciously, pleasure continuing to stir inside of him. “Oh shit, baby, you’re gonna have to stop, I’m too close. We both know I have to be in you”

You lift your head up for a final time, a small pop sound happening as your mouth leaves his aching cock.

As if you read each other’s minds, the shirts finally come off and are slung onto the floor and all underwear is discarded.

You’re back on the bed on your back with Yoongi on top kissing you like there’s no tomorrow. You’re exploring each other’s bodies as if it’s your first time doing this together and you each just have to take in every little detail of one another.

You roll Yoongi over so that you’re on top and guide him backwards to sit up. You straddle him, your wetness pressing against his dick and even this humping brings immense pleasure to the both of you as you sigh into each other’s mouths.

You remember how much Yoongi enjoyed the faces you made for him when he made you feel good, so you’re sure to let him see you biting your lip, eyes closed.

“Fuck baby, I’m not gonna last much longer like this” he tells you, fingers gripping tightly into the skin of your hips as you continue to grind on him.

You transition from grinding on him to allowing him inside you as you guide his cock to go inside you. Moans of pleasure erupt from both of your throats as he enters you. Your arms are now around his neck. He’s looking up at you with loose lips and a relaxed gaze, occasionally staring down at your breasts which bounce up and down as the rest of you does.

Looking into each other’s eyes means everything right now. The eye contact only enhances the feelings of pleasure and raw emotion. You bounce and you bounce on that dick until you feel weak, almost too weak to keep the pace going but Yoongi assists by thrusting deep into you, his hips now going up and down.

“Gonna come” you utter, deeply in pleasure.

“Tell me you love me” he demands.

“I-I-I” you stammer, just seconds away from climax. “Oh my god! I love you Yoongi! I love you, I love you, I love you!”

Your string of proclamations of love seem to really hit the spot for both of you. Tears stream from your eyes both in pleasure and emotion for Yoongi and you appear to simultaneously come for each other.

“I love you too y/n!” he groans as you feel his hot see ejecting into you whilst you also reach orgasm.

You both ride it out just a little longer so that you both can finish until you pull out and collapse onto him. He strokes your hair lovingly and catches his breath before speaking again.

“All that stuff you said; was it for real?” he asks.

Your heart sinks a little at how insecure you’ve made him just because of your own past trauma.

“It was Yoongi. I can’t believe I lost you just because I couldn’t swallow my pride and open up” you sigh, appreciating the feeling of being able to rest your head on his chest.

“I don’t want to push you into doing anything you’re uncomfortable with though, just to let you know” he assures.

“I know, I know… in the morning, I want to do this properly. We’ll talk, like two civilised adults should… That is, if you’ll listen or even consider having me back” you sigh, drawing circles on his bare chest with a finger.

“One step at a time, yeah?” he sighs back.

“Yeah” you agree, yawning afterward.

“You sound tired and it is getting late. Let’s sleep on it and we’ll talk over coffee and breakfast” he suggests, humming in a lazy way.

“I’m sorry Yoongi. For all of this” you apologise.

“I’m just glad to be here with you.”

“Me too”

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mmazzeroo · 4 years

Note

Happy belated nameday, Maria! I hope you had a great (and safe) day! ♥

Sharon, I’m so sorry! It has taken me almost two months to thank you for this lovely birthday greeting. You are so sweet and amazing for remembering and I’m not sure I even wished you on your nameday 😞Thus, very belated wishes of a happy nameday to you as well ❤️

With that said, please sit down and enjoy a nice cup of tea and let me explain why it’s taken me this long to get back to you - and a few others.

It was mid-March when my country went into covid19 lockdown. Initially the only downside for my family and I were the cancelling of birthdays hehe; have a sister and brother who are also proud March children. As a part-time student taking classes online there wasn’t much change for me in that area. However, I also work part-time in a kitchen at a 24-hour institution for young adults with autism which means I come into contact with a lot of people regularly. Living with my parents who are both retired and old enough to be classified as being 'at-risk', my chef decided I was one of the first ones who needed to stay home. Why I live with my old parents is another story for another time 🙂 With the stay-at-home order I remember thinking 'cool, then maybe I can finally sit myself down and get some writing done.' Yeah, right...

That’s when other news started to tick in.

- In the UK, a friend in the NHS had been working +18 hrs shifts on the psychiatric ward until he too was sent home because someone needed to look after his mentally unstable mother. - Another friend, in France, didn’t dare attend her beloved grandma’s funeral because she wasn’t sure if her fever was just a regular cold. - An old friend (as in time we’ve known each other), lost his father after a long hard battle with cancer. To make it worse he lives and works in Cyprus but his parents live in Athens, Greece, and because of the travel restrictions he couldn’t fly back to accompany his mother to the funeral. (Ok, he could but then he’d have to be in quarantine at a hotel for 14 days before being allowed to visit his mom). He talks with her twice daily but still hasn’t been able to visit her.

I’m from a large, close-knit family and they mean the world to me. Friends are considered extended family as in ’there’s the fridge, there’s the loo, make yourself at home.’ So imagining a scenario where I couldn’t attend the funeral of a loved one hit me like a knife. Around the time the stay-at-home order was put in place my dad had caught a cold. A cold that turned into pneumonia. A pneumonia that turned bad. A few days before my birthday he was admitted to the hospital because he began having trouble breathing. Up until that point he’d been at home, in bed and on antibiotics.The paramedics arrived quickly, wished him away and left me alone with my distraught mom. I’ll never forget the look in the driver's eyes when he reluctantly told my mom she couldn’t come along. He understood the pain his words inflicted but there was nothing anyone could do.

My dad was somewhere in a hospital, all alone, fighting for his life and there was nothing I could do or say to change that. We weren’t allowed to go visit. My mom would call daily to get updates and for a couple of weeks they weren’t exactly uplifting. The best news was that it wasn’t covid19. But, he was (briefly) put on a ventilator to help him breathe.

My mom distracted herself with cleaning and sorting and cooking etc. I, on the other hand, just shut down. I stopped reading, watching or listening to any kind of news, I might check a few of the notifications I got on twitter and insta, but I’d logged out of tumblr. I numbed my mind with movies and series - netflix became my new safe haven. I would have movies or a series running till I passed out from exhaustion.

Then one night there was a ping on my phone telling me there was a mail. It was from tumblr telling me that @tomakeitbeautifultolive had asked a question. It was so unexpected. Such a sweet, simple and kind gesture in the middle of my chaos was more than I knew how to handle so I cried. Silent tears and sniffles evolved into full blown sobbing, squeezing the pillow so tight I strangled the poor thing to death. Despite it sounding terrible how you wishing me a happy nameday caused me to cry myself to sleep, I want to thank you because I needed to get it out and you just happened to be the catalyst ❤️

Sorry for taking so long but I was so overwhelmed that even a simple thank you was too much for me 😞 The only one I’ve had bit of contact with is my awesome latino sis @helloimnotawesome but couldn’t even tell her because I didn’t know where to begin and honestly just wanted to pretend that the world only consisted of netflix and my bed. Sorry Val 😞

Started back at work again last Monday. Nice to be back but I also worry because the covid19 virus is still very much here, and what if I unknowingly bring it home? We live in a small town in a tourist area and since our government is talking of re-opening the borders it looks like we’ll get tourists this summer. Yes, they’re definitely needed and no, I don’t suspect or think badly of my European neighbours but..I’m still the one in the house who does the shopping and with more outsiders in the area the odds of the virus showing up here only increases. If from now on one of my parents get sick it will most likely be something I’ve brought home, and it scares me.

This turned out to be much longer than I thought it’d be. Sorry about that. If you stuck with me so far I’m very, very grateful.

I’ll end this on a happy note though: My dad is back home, safe and sound, and on the 28th of May he can celebrate his 75th birthday!

Once again, thank you Sharon! It meant more to me than I can ever express.

#Thank you for being a friend #2020 sucks #i've got mail

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thecomicsnexus · 5 years

Photo

TMNT #1-4 DECEMBER 2001 - JUNE 2002 BY PETER LAIRD, JIM LAWSON AND ERIC TALBOT

SYNOPSIS (FROM TURTLEPEDIA AND COMIC VINE)

A Fugitoid makes its way across the moon in leaps, passing by Tranquility Base and marveling at how it has stood the test of time. It meets up with an Utrom, and the two discuss their plans to finish completing a large craft and bring these "guests" that they have with them.

In a New York City alley, the Ninja Turtles face an all too familiar scene - carapaces against an alley wall while a street gang - this time, the Madhattan Maulitia - have them cornered. While the four of them are more of a match for the fifteen dullards in the Maulitia, the Turtles decide to take the rooftops as soon as possible to gain some distance between them and their foes. After a moment of reflection, they head on their way, only to find they are less safe than they had hoped, as the Maulitia has somehow followed them up with snowmobiles. After trouncing the Maulitia up on the rooftops and heading back down, Donatello comes across a snowmobile all on its lonesome and steals it. Michelangelo tries to get Don's attention for a ride in the treacherous snow, but his brother doesn't hear him and Mike slips and falls in the street. Moments later, he's hit by a bus, and a costumed character named Magnrok finds him, carrying him into an alley calling someone in to pick him up.

Meanwhile, Don rides the snowmobile into a subway and loses control, crashing it through a wall, where he finds an old, abandoned armored truck.

April and Casey head out to a fertility doctor, while Shadow trains with Metal Head. After their sparring session, Shadow worries about the outcome of the appointment. Splinter dismisses it as the impatience of a teenager, but Shadow has a premonition that big things are in store for the entire world.

Michelangelo wakes up in an ambulance to find paramedics working on him. He freaks out and tries to escape, but the paramedics warn him not to open the door. Mike pays no heed to them and does so anyway, instantly falling out and finding that the ambulance is flying. Michelangelo holds on to a handle to prevent himself from falling, but he is still dizzy and injured and loses his grip. Fortunately, a flying superhero, Raptarr, happens to be in the area and catches Mikey as he passes back out. Raptarr returns him to the ambulance.

Leonardo and Raphael return to the lair, with Raph complaining about how cold he is. Leo turns up the heat and offers to make Raph some hot chocolate, and discuss The Jones' decision to try for a child of their own. Leo then asks if they should look for their brothers, they haven't seen since the scuffle with the Madhattan Maulitia. Raph declines due to the weather and suggests Mikey's having the time of his life in the snow anyway.

Mikey wakes up again, this time strapped to a hospital bed. A woman on a video screen insists he stay put, but Mike just wants to get out of there. The woman says he's free to leave as long as he checks out at the front desk, and that his effects are in a nearby closet. He wonders aloud why the staff hasn't freaked out due to him being a mutant turtle. It is at this moment that Mikey sees that the patients at this hospital are a little out of the ordinary, consisting of various costumed adventurers and non-humans.

A Doctor Singh approaches Michelangelo with some orderlies and tells him he needs to return to his room. Mikey refuses and begins to fight with the orderlies, before they are interrupted by a man approaching in a wheelchair - the Turtles' old friend Pat, aka Zippy Lad of the Justice Force. Pat takes charge of Mikey and lets Singh and the orderlies be on their way, explaining to the turtle that he is in Kurtzburg Memorial Hospital, a special hospital for aliens, heroes, mutants, and other oddities, and one of only three places like it in the world. Pat happens to be on the hospital's board of directors and saw Mike come in while he was at a budget meeting, and vouched for him. Pat convinces Mike to get back in bed and rest up.

Back at the lair, Donatello rushes in, excited, and coaxes Casey and Raph to follow him to a discovery he's made. Leo stays behind so he can watch Junkyard Wars in peace. Don leads Raph and Casey to the abandoned armored truck he'd found, and the three of them examine the vehicle, taking notes of what would need to be cleaned and fixed to get it running again, and finding the moldy corpses of some apparent robbers inside, including a skeleton in the back wearing 1970s garb and still holding onto a gun. Don and Casey leave to get some batteries and cleaning supplies, leaving Raph to bemoan being stuck there with the "dead guys".

Shadow leaves for a clandestine rendezvous with her boyfriend Jay, while Splinter worries for her safety in the snow. When she meets up with Jay, she suggests that they go to the Jones Farm and warm up by the fireplace, but he reminds her that it's supposed to be abandoned and the last time they were there, someone called the police on them. Instead, he pesters her about going back to her place and meeting her "famously reclusive grandfather", which she turns down.

Meanwhile, on the moon, the Utroms accomplish another phase on their mysterious plan.

In the jungles of Venezuela, a research team discovers a strange life form. Meanwhile, in the Big Apple, Casey, Raph and Don get the abandoned armored car running, much to the dismay of the local New Yorkers. Master Splinter and Shadow are enraptured by the television coverage of an invasion of Unidentified Flying Objects.

The Utroms finally reveal themselves to the word in a very public display. Karai fantasizes facing the turtles in battle while her aid keeps her updated on the news about the alien arrival. After watching the tv coverage of the Utroms Michelangelo and Raphael decide to get a closer look when the stumble on a mysterious robot in the sewers.

REVIEW

As I mentioned before, the Archie TMNT comic was my gateway to the world of comic-books. But because of the indie nature of the Turtles, their comics were really hard to get from outside of the US.

As a result, collecting them was frustrating, and in any case, getting all of them was futile. It wasn’t until around 2005, that I started getting TMNT comics for real.

At the time I started with colored collected editions (First), and eventually this and Tales came up, as those were being published at the time. As a result, I got almost all of the issues for both series. I was really impressed, not only by the story, but also by the interaction of Peter Laird with the fans, and how he would keep us up to date with his life. Eventually I started watching the 2003 cartoon (also, not something I had access to at the time it was broadcasted) which was heavily influenced by Peter Laird, and some of its concepts would appear in Tales.

This is a very long story, that as far as I know, it’s incomplete and there is little hope for it to be ever finished. I do hope at some point Peter Laird takes advantage of that “18 issues a year” deal he made with Viacom and make it happen.

While both, Eastman and Laird were fans of Jack Kirby, it is very obvious in this run that Laird may have been even more. Case in point, the “Kurtzberg” hospital sequence. It’s not gonna be the last time we see Kirby inspired things in the book.

When the book starts, we get the idea that there was a time jump since the last time we saw these characters (1995), but when I saw Shadow so grown up, I realized how much time really passed. I mean, the turtles are technically still teenagers, compared to how much turtles live. But they are kind... 30 now?

Perhaps the most significant thing about this run is the Utrom non-invasion of Earth. Whenever I think of Laird’s writing, my mind goes back to this story. The way he looks at sci-fi is very positive (especially considering that the Alien visit happens right after 9-11). In a way, his writing is very similar to that of Jack Kirby, who would often dedicate pages to concepts and ideas that would make life cooler.

Jim Lawson is back, and luck us, he is being inked (and toned) by Laird and Talbot.

Perhaps the main problem with this title is the pacing of the story. As the book is bi-monthly, it takes forever for a ship to land on Earth (7 months). This is not unusual in indie comics, but it makes the first issue a bit uneventful.

I give these issues a score of 8.

#peter laird #michael dooney #jim lawson #mirage studios #comics #review #2001 #2002 #modern age #indie #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles

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vagrantblvrd · 5 years

Text

Sunrise over Darkness (1/1)

Summary: It’s strange enough venturing back into the Cosmodrome with everything that’s happened since Bauble found him, but going back with Ryan is just -

“Oh, there’s another cluster,” Ryan says, and Gavin twists around to see him harvesting spinmetal leaves. “Just a few more and I’ll have enough.”

Odd.

It’s very, very odd.

Notes: Prompt fill for @demoncowedgar who wanted something in a Destiny AU. :D?

Follows No Place for the Living.

(Read on AO3)

It’s strange enough venturing back into the Cosmodrome with everything that’s happened since Bauble found him, but going back with Ryan is just -

“Oh, there’s another cluster,” Ryan says, and Gavin twists around to see him harvesting spinmetal leaves. “Just a few more and I’ll have enough.”

Odd.

It’s very, very odd.

The Cosmodrome is as eerie as it’s ever been, cries from distant Fallen patrols echoing oddly off the high metal walls and rock walls. Lingering echoes of the SIVA crisis that has Gavin watching where he sets his feet far more closely than he normally would.

Commander Zavala hasn’t officially lifted the quarantine on the Cosmodrome, but he also hasn’t said anything about Guardians slipping in here on Banshee’s latest quest either. (For Banshee’s sake or the link to Cayde-6, it’s anyone’s guess.)

The change of heart may be for Banshee’s sake and the link to Cayde-6, or perhaps there are other more urgent matters weighing on his mind with recent events. Things that make disciplining errant Guardians breaking quarantine pale in comparison. (Commander Zavala isn’t pleased about Guardians running around the Cosmodrome again recklessly as ever, but he hasn’t spoken out on it either.)

Gavin sighs as he finds a comfortable spot on a rocky outcropping that gives him good line of sight as Ryan searches for more spinmetal. Something to do with one of Rasputin's WARSATs clipping his jumpship on a mission to Mars a week back.

There’s a glimmer of light by his shoulder and he smiles as he sees Bauble hover into view.

“It’s odd, isn’t it,” she says, voice pitched low. “You’d think a Titan would be a bit more...reticent to set foot here with the quarantine.”

Gavin hums, sniper rifle leaning against his shoulder. It’s natural for respective classes to look to their Vanguard mentors for leadership first with the way things are organized in the City rather than with the Vanguard as a whole, but few of them are blindly loyal anymore.

Too much upheaval in such a short time, things that weren’t quite secrets as just...not spoken of coming to light time and time again. More than enough to have Guardians question whether or not the Vanguard is infallible, especially with Cayde’s death.

(Funny how it’s the Hunter Vanguard mentorship that changes hands so often, while the Titans and Warlocks stand solid and steady. Maybe there is some truth to the jokes and friendly jabs every Guardian’s heard at least once.)

“You’d think,” Gavin murmurs, smiling as Ryan has an argument – no sorry, as he’s been informed the two of them engage in <i>debates</i>, not arguments – with Reggie.

Flailing hands and wide gestures and Reggie’s shell flaring out with little spins and flourishes either mocking him or unconsciously mimicking him, difficult to tell.

“Looks like arguing to me,” Bauble grumbles, and Gavin doesn’t laugh at the way he can feel her watching him, no.

No reason to get into a debate themselves, after all.

Movement behind Ryan and Reggie and Gavin’s reaching for his sniper rifle, easy as anything as Bauble flickers out of sight.

Ryan and Reggie give no sign of having noticed they’re not alone as their debate continues, and Gavin huffs a laugh echoed by Bauble’s through the speakers of his helmet as he scans the area.

A Marauder, two, creeping up on the shiny pair of idiots in the shadow of an old building. Cloaking tech glitching on them every now and then and Gavin almost feels bad about it as he takes aim.

And then Reggie blinks out of view as Ryan snaps around, hand cannon pointed unerringly at the Marauder Gavin’s not aiming for.

“Wait,” Ryan says, and Gavin holds his fire as requested.

There’s a standoff as the Marauders drop their cloak, no need for it now they’ve been seen. Guardians versus Fallen and even a year ago it would have ended predictably, but now?

Ryan cocks his head, just so and the Marauders share a look, chittering to each other before they lower their weapons and take a step back.

Look back to him and gesture at the harvested spinmetal growth, hunched low to the ground and ready to run.

Ryan lowers his hand cannon, tilts his head the other way and gestures towards the Mothyards. More spinmetal to be found there and the Guardians roaming the Cosmodrome at the moment seen content to explore The Divide rather than venture this far out.

The Marauder closest to him stands a little straighter and says something to Ryan he must be able to understand because he holsters his hand cannon. The Marauder regards him for a long moment before it taps the second Marauder on its pauldron and they set off towards the Mothyards, reactivating their cloaking technology when they’re nearly out of sight.

“Hmm,” Bauble says, reappearing in another glimmer of light over Gavin’s shoulder. “Interesting.”

Things are changing out here, and Gavin hopes it’s for the better.

Ryan turns to look up at Gavin and Bauble and tips the two of them a jaunty little salute and offers a cheeky, “Thanks!”

Gavin snorts as he settles back into a comfortable slouch as Reggie reappears and launches into a lecture about Ryan being a reckless fool of a Titan, although it sounds less stern than fondly exasperated.

Ryan nods along in the right places, makes these little noises like yes, yes, and you’re absolutely right and ooh, more spinmetal! as Reggie floats along behind still lecturing for all he’s worth.

========

Gavin leaves Ryan to negotiate terms with Amanda in the hangar and heads to the Tower courtyard which is bustling with activity as always. Guardians bartering materials for goods and showing off new bits of armor or weapons.

Ghosts flitting about catching up on gossip and trading bits of information on enemy patrols that haven’t been updated on the Vanguard networks yet.

Bauble gets sidetracked in conversation with a Warlock’s Ghost near Master Rahool’s booth, and he shakes his head as he visits Tess at the Eververse counter to see what the handful of engrams he picked up in the Cosmodrome hold for him. (An armor ornament or two, pretty new Sparrow for a race somewhere and other items he trades in for Bright Dust.)

It’s a lovely day, warm and sunny with birds calling to each other as they flock about the banners and whatnot about the Tower.

He should stop by Geoff and Jack’s quarters later, spend some time catching up with them as it’s been a while since he’s been back to the Tower for more than a pit stop. Spend some glimmer around the Tower vendors for more than the essentials, take some time to enjoy the chance to let his guard down.

A voice calling his name has Gavin look over to see a pair of Titans approaching. Battle-scarred armor and a look in their eyes that means trouble in Gavin’s immediate future.

He gives serious thought to bolting for it, given the last time he ran into these two. The impromptu race through the Glacial Drift on Mars that ended with the Titans going over a cliff – which by the way, wasn't his fault. (Heavy Titan armor and improperly calibrated engines and honestly, honestly, any Sparrow racer worth their salt would know better.)

“Well, well, well,” Michael says, hand landing heavily on Gavin’s shoulder. “Lookit who we got here, Jeremy.”

Jeremy grins, and like the menace he is, cracks his knuckles.

“Aw, now,” Gavin says, cheerful grin and laughter building up as he spots Ryan and Reggie headed towards them. “No need to be like that, Lads.”

They’re ridiculous is what they are. Playing the big, scary heavies like Gavin owes them glimmer or caught them up in a bad deal over parts or something similar. Armor adding to the image because Titans and those pauldrons of theirs that seem to get bigger every time Gavin turns around.

Michael snorts. “Aw, no need to be like that, Lads,” he says, doing a terrible job of mimicking Gavin’s accent. “You owe us a rematch, asshole.”

Jeremy nods, smacking his fist in his hand like that’s any kind of threat from him.

“What he said,” he says in the least threatening way possible because Gavin can hear him trying not to laugh, break character and ruin this little farce of theirs.

Big, bad Titans picking on the poor little Hunter and really.

“Is there a problem?” Ryan asks, nice and mild and taking his cue from Gavin instead of cracking Michael and Jeremy’s heads together the way he looked like he wanted to when he first spotted the three of them.

Michael blinks, sharing a look with Jeremy before they two of the leave off bullying Gavin and turn to face him.

Another little standoff, only this time it’s a trio of Titans and Gavin rolls his eyes as Bauble floats over and makes that quiet little humming noise she does when she’s studying Guardians in their natural habitat.

Still puzzling out their eccentricities and other such things as though she expects to wholly understand them one day.

“Fascinating,” she murmurs as the three idiots before them forget they were sizing each other up in case a brawl broke out and start discussing their armor, because of course they do.

“Titans,” Gavin sighs, and decides he might as well grab a bowl of ramen in the bazaar while they’re having a chat for old time’s sake.

========

“Interesting friends you have,” Ryan says, plonking himself down on a stool beside Gavin. “I think they challenged me to a race on Mars?”

Gavin chokes on his drink, winces as Ryan chooses to be helpful by pounding him on the back and forgetting he’s still in armor.

“Oh?” he says, and wonders if he’ll get grief from the others if he warns Ryan to calibrate his Sparrow if he takes them up on it. Glances over to see Ryan with this adorably confused smile on his face and decides the poor bastard will need the advantage. “Might want to mention it to Amanda before you go.”

She’ll know what to do.

“Hmm,” Ryan says, casting Gavin a look, like he knows there’s something Gavin’s not saying. “It has been a while since I’ve brought it in.”

Gavin’s sure Reggie does his best to keep Ryan’s Sparrow up to spec, but there’s only so much a Ghost can do when it comes to these things.

That, and Amanda’s a genius when it comes to Sparrows and jumpships, knows how to pull the best possibly performance from them without sacrificing efficiency. All these little tips and tricks she’s picked up over the years no one, not even the most skilled Ghost can hope to emulate.

“Any recommendations?” Ryan asks, skimming through the menu. “I don’t think I’ve been here before.”

Gavin shrugs. He’s not a connoisseur, but this little ramen shop is one of the most popular ones around. There’s a framed picture of Cayde in a spot of honor, and Gavin’s got an expired coupon stashed away in his vault because Guardians carry an odd sort of sentimentality with them, don’t they.

Claim they have no time for it, but small things catch them up time and again. Little rituals they’re not aware of, habits they form without realizing.

“Can’t go wrong with the spicy ramen,” he says, and laughs at the look Ryan gives him, leaning in to explain the joke that isn’t a joke, because Hunters.

#ragehappy #destiny 2 au #demoncowedgar #prompt fills #Beyond the Horizon #vagrant fic #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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steve0discusses · 5 years

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Yugioh S4 Episode 2: Rebecca...She’s back, I guess?

So I got hella sick this week so it’s...just one update this weekend. The rest of the next update has the caps done but then the copy I was putting together got very distracted about which Founding Father was the hottest and I think that was the Dayquil? I barely know what day of the week it is rn. I think it’s Saturday, is it Saturday?

Anyway, we’re battling that Monocle guy. Gurimo? Yeah his name is Gurimo. I honestly can’t remember him saying his name even once, so thanks Google for the help.

It’s a new season so not only did we suck all the power out of God Cards but now you can’t use them anymore with the new glowing green mechanic. The writers really did just...a lot to make it so God Cards are no longer relevant. Like they buried them so far.

This guy repeats himself quite a lot about being soul hungry? Yeah I watched all of Sailor Moon so like, I’m super up to date on my soul energy anime. I’ve walked this path before I know it well.

(read more under the cut)

Such a shame we can’t read those stats which may just be Hebrew letters in lorem ipsum (note that when Pegasus makes you a card, you don’t get to have stats) but it’s nice to know that, if you wanted to, you could play Rex and Weevil in universe of the show and something would happen.

Anyway, Gurimo lost, his eyes went all glowy red at some point, and decided to go out throwing stuff because it’s Yugioh and you have to throw cards at least 3 times a season, its in the contract.

Don’t think about physics guys, just trust that cards can do this on a roof where there’s no wind for some reason.

And then he went up in a green ball of glory. It was nice of the green beam of soul energy to wait until the impossible card toss was over.

Lol this show and how it just kills people on screen just...all the time. All the freakin time. Can’t show a gun, but murder as many people as you like. It’s OK, his soul is in a paper card so he’s not *really* dead. That won’t terrify children under the age of 10.

So Pharaoh decides to do the tactic of telling a bunch of motorcycle gang edgy kids (adults? not sure about those three) that stealing is Wrong.

They also, youknow, are implicit in murdering Rex and Weevil but youknow, stealing is wrong and the God Cards don’t belong to them and Pharaoh is shook that these kids won’t keep their end of their bargain that whoever wins the card fight keeps the cards.

So basically Gurimo died for freakin nothing.

Welcome back to the fold, Rex and Weevil, apparently this show isn’t done with you yet. I was pretty much done with both of you 3 seasons ago but alas, you will be back, with your raspy as hell voice acting, at the beginning of S5. I am sure of it.

(PS I just noticed I spelled resurrect wrong and I know I should go back into photoshop but like...I’m too sick to care at this moment so maybe I’ll change it in the next week or so I dunno, I’m just gonna post this thing so I can feel like I did something productive today.)

And so these kids decide the police are never going to freakin show up to the rooftop brawl where a guy super died and several children were endangered and a huge beam of light you can see from space went out like a bat signal to the rest of the city of “ps, something bad is happening over here, if any of you adults feel like helping out these four high school drop outs? Nobody?”

First, they decide to keep this horrible thing:

(which second thought is not SO surprising, because Yugi clearly loves hoarding dead people)

And then this other horrible thing:

Why would you keep these? Why would you do this?

I mean Yugi’s got such specific dark tastes that I wouldn’t be half surprised if his closet is filled with dozens and dozens of rat skulls he collected from the subway station.

And then the next day, Yugi decided to just like watch Joey and Tristan dangle Rex and Weevil like puppets. It just seemed super unnecessary.

Like Yugi isn’t even Pharaoh right now but he’s absolutely fine with these guys getting shook around. Yugi is all sorts of gray area in this show and I’m glad that’s never changed although sometimes it’s like “Is Yugi slowly turning into a mob boss? Because I’m down, but also somewhat concerned?”

Anyway, the God Cards aren’t even here anymore so we say farewell to Rex and Weevil who seem just as confused at how the hell you can steal a God Card as we are.

*not entirely sure where Rex and Weevil are from. I’ve been assuming the UK or the US but like...maybe they live here? I don’t even know.

And then Chibiusa--I mean Rebecca showed up.

Ah, remember this plot point from S1? What if she shows up and (according to Bro) Just never leaves?

I’m coming to terms with this. Anyway, Rebecca’s only purpose seems to be as a part of a (love????) triangle (square????) between Yugi and Tea but like...

And maybe this is the Dayquil speaking but...

Is this even weird?

Seriously, they’re family friends, why is this weird? Maybe it’s because one of Rebecca’s core traits is that she’s American and I’m also an American so I don’t even see a problem with Rebecca and how she acts (since she’s a freakin child with a crush on a card-famous person) but like what small child see her friend she hasn’t seen in 2 years and is not going to hug him?

Anyway, Yugi was the worst to not remember this chick. Maybe his brain looks like a box of loose packing peanuts (I say as a metaphor remembering that his brain literally looks like an Escher painting screensaver), but he can’t remember this chick from just 2 years ago that he gave his rarest card to? The chick who’s grandfather had that blue-eyes he gave to Yugi’s Grandfather? The chick who’s grandfather helped his grandfather get that necklace around Yugi’s neck? The necklace he wears every single day and is super cursed by?

How do you forget the Hawkins when they are part of the reason everyone thinks you’re losing your mind?

But I guess she looks older now and got a pair of glasses (bifocals????). She No longer has her hair in pigtails but, I dunno, she looks basically the same to me since she’s still about the same size as Yugi but wtv.

And then Yugioh was like “Listen everyone, we’re very tired of all of your angry reviews, and I see y’all are saying we never do romance, well get ready, we know how to do romance really well, get ready for it, we can make things move faster than a snail in wet cement, just watch.”

Because somehow, after Yugi was the biggest asshole ever to Rebeca, I guess she figured like “well, at least you’re still card famous”

You know what? I have several girlfriends who I am not dating, but, if it’s been a couple weeks since they’ve seen me last, will give me a huge as drunk hug on my arm and go “MY LOVE MY GIRLFRIEND MARRY ME” and like...Again I’m American so maybe this is just my culture here in California?

I’d like to believe that Rebecca is just messing with these people because she can.

Ps I’m pretty sure this girl was 6 last time we saw her but they decided...we better age her up if it’s gonna be a romance but they only made her 12. OK show. Yugi’s pushing 17 at this point so like...barely even logical. I’d say legal but I’m thinking more of just logic at this point because the last time we saw this girl she was holding a teddy bear (which we can guarantee is probably still shoved into her luggage)

...OK, show...

Now listen listen listen. All ships are fine here. I’m not gonna go after shipping because like, c’mon, it’s 2019. If you stan Rebecca and Yugi, go for it, why not? I’ve said it before, and my feelings haven’t really changed, I’m immune to shipping, so I feel absolutely no different with Rebecca and Yugi than I do with Tea and Yugi. I think Tea makes more sense, but that’s not saying very much because literally anyone else on this cast who isn’t related to him could probably work. Go ahead and bring back Mako Tsunami. There’d be a fun pair.

Bro got very excited when I mentioned a MakoxYugi pairing just now ps.

But it really does feel like this ship has the dynamic of the Usagi/Chibiusa/Mamaru ship from Sailor Moon where Usagi was always jealous of small little Chibiusa spending time with Mamaru who was her OWN DAD. Why would you EVER be jealous of a 12 year old girl hanging with your boy...friend? Tea is a 17ish year old ballerina who never, ever wears full pants. She’d have this in the bag if she ever decided to like...do anything with...this. And I don’t blame Tea for never doing anything with “this” because like...look at “this.”

I just don’t think the writing team knows how to write a competent love triangle (square) but...this exists now. They even had Rebecca decide to dress nearly identically to Tea as a demonstration of her devotion but like...it honestly comes off more that this small child just admires Tea. Because she’s 12.

Yugi is just babysitting this girl for his Grandfather and it feels like the writing team just had to have the girls be all catty at eachother. Because it’s a kids show. Gotta have those girls all catty. Can’t let them be friends.

Anyway, back at this museum that these kids visit so freakin often, you’d think they’d change their home address, we meet up with the granddads in question.

Ah, now Ishizu is no longer with us, Exposition Grandpa is here to take the torch. Can’t wait for that.

And I made his font gray because I freakin give up. Grandpa Hawkins might change his font color every episode. I...I’m figuring it out.

And then, every helicopter in Domino shed a single tear.

Wow. I’ve been so mad for so many seasons that they never use a freakin seaplane to cross the ocean that when they actually do I’m like...kind of disappointed?

I mean it’s not shaped like a dragon, but I will take this perfectly acceptable seaplane.

I can’t believe they drew a normal ass plane. on this show.

*Waits patiently for it to turn into a blimp next episode*

Anyway, if you just got here, this is a link to read all the caps in chrono order. There’s over 3 seasons of this. Y’all I’ve done over 100 episodes.

#Yugioh #Ygo #episode recap #photo recap #Yugi Muto #Rebecca Hawkins #Tea Gardner #Joey Wheeler #Gurimo #The biker guys I think one is called valon or something #tristan taylor #grandpa muto #grandpa hawkins #so I found out only the first 5 tags are searchable so I don't know why Im bothering writing so many tags other than it's fun #S4 #Ep2

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journeysintowebcomics · 5 years

Text

Worm Liveblog #104

UPDATE 104: Dragon Hits Hard

Last time Skitter, Regent and Imp had managed to find Heckpuppy, who was fighting a suit that regenerated endlessly. They manage to convince her to run away, so now they’re leaving, or at least that was the plan until they stumbled upon the suit they feared a lot. How shall they face this? How is the suit even like? Let’s see.

From what I’m reading here, it seems like this Azazel suit looks more...organic than the rest of Dragon’s suits? More lifelike, so to say. The hide even gets wrinkles in the right places, and the insides are so tightly-knit it’s impossible for her bugs to do anything. This was the work of two weeks yet the rather competent team of Armsmaster—I mean, Defiant, and Dragon managed to make quite the feat!

Ah, looks like Taylor somehow deduced how that was possible!

A thought dawned on me. It was a half-formed thought up until the moment I devoted some attention to it. Then it clicked. Tinkers had a knack, a specialty, be it a particular field of work or something they could do with their designs that nobody else could, and I knew Dragon’s. She could intuit and appropriate the designs of other tinkers.

Soooo what I’m understanding here is that Dragon managed to intuit and appropriate Defiant’s tinker techniques and used them to accelerate the building process so they could make the suit the Azazel suit. In that case, if they have enough resources and materials, it should be rather easy for them to make more and more suits of excellent quality. They may actually have a chance against the Slaughterhouse Nine, especially since Dragon is, well, an AI and therefore is never in direct danger. I hope to hear about how she and Defiant tries that, it should be interesting!

Skitter thinks about it all in ways that show how Dragon has been using other tinkers’ inventions, and that it was why she had joined the heroes. It not only gives her access to the Protectorate’s tinkers, she also can get her digital, most likely inexistent hands onto any villainous inventions the Protectorate confiscates. We should all be glad she’s not part of Cauldron or even remotely affiliated to them or she’d have access to even more tinkers and their skills. I can’t imagine any situation she’d accept being part of Cauldron, thank goodness.

This realization makes Skitter feel like she’s against a very invincible foe, but it’s not like they can afford to lose. Either they defeat Dragon oooor...well...then everything they worked for is useless. Coil won’t be happy about it and Dinah will be still captive. What’s more, I think the Undersiders and the Travelers would have reasons to fear for their lives, given their failure would mean Coil’s plans would vanish into nothingness. Hmmm...this isn’t something his powers could stop unless the last time he used his power was a couple weeks ago or so.

Also, the Slaughterhouse Nine’s visit was just two weeks ago. Boy does time move in mysterious ways in this story.

If I was even close to being right, then Dragon was the incarnation of why tinkers were so dangerous.

It really is. She’s feasibly the result of a tinker’s work, given she’s an AI and I doubt she materialized in a random hard drive one day, so she really is the incarnation of everything a tinker is capable of. Quite the fearsome enemy for the Undersiders.

As expected, the first thing the Azazel suit does is counter Skitter’s bugs, because by now that’s a requirement when Skitter is in a fight. How shall it be done this time?

Turns out I was wrong, the suit isn’t immediately countering the bugs. What it’s doing is use Defiant’s trademark nanomachine supercutting to set up arenas and limit the target’s movements. No word on how tall these barriers are, but I suppose they’re reasonably tall, enough for pretty much the above average villain to not be able to go over them. Skitter’s giant beetle is likely to not be around and even if it was, when it approaches the suit would take measures to squash it. It has been...what, three seconds? And Azazel already has the advantage. Figures.

That wouldn’t stop Siberian though. What technologies had I seen that they might use against her? Or was it a technology I hadn’t seen before? There were some ugly possibilities there. Something long ranged that could take him out before he could get to cover? A microscopic form of attack that could fill the air and debilitate him if he wasn’t in an airtight container?

Well it’s true these barriers won’t be effective at all against the Siberian’s form, but they sure would be very effective against the Siberian’s real body. By now I’m sure they know they have to track down the real body in order to really be able to do anything.

“Just don’t touch it,” I told her. “Not even in a joking way. You’re likely to lose your finger or your hand before you realize something’s wrong.”

Now that I think about it...the Azazel suit wouldn’t have any compunctions about killing, no? Because it’s made to go against the Slaughterhouse Nine. Otherwise I’d consider how feasible jumping into the barrier to put yourself into mortal danger is, to stop the attack. Then again, that likely would end with the loss of a limb, a hand or something, and that’s just not worth it for a quick ‘hey gotcha’ unless you can get a quality prosthetic that’s better than the original limb.

Seems to me like the idea of putting themselves in danger did at least cross their minds. It’s ruled out precisely because of what I had said, because these machines are made to be lethal against the Slaughterhouse Nine, but they think they’re holding back anyway. Maybe because the Undersiders aren’t as big of a threat as the Slaughterhouse Nine. True, our dear villain protagonists have made quite a name for themselves but they’re dangerous to Brockton Bay, not to the entire world.

“So what do we do?”

“It’s still a machine, a well made machine, but it’s a machine. We can break it, given an opportunity. But our number one goal is going to be keeping it from catching us out of position and walling us in.”

I don’t think breaking it is going to be much of an option, given their shortage of offensive options other than Heckpuppy’s dogs and Shatterbird’s glass. The dogs may have a bit of a chance, but the glass...that may not. True, Shatterbird hasn’t been with the Slaughterhouse Nine for a while already, but maybe they have a counter for that already.

Their options to move the fight somewhere else are kind of limited. Thankfully, looks like they have a lot of time to discuss because the suit is doing nothing? Sure there’s a lot of conversation going on! Either way, going to the rooftops is something she’d like to avoid, as that makes it pretty difficult to get away. I think I can see the logic. At least when she’s on surface level she can have some hiding places in buildings and alleyways.

Heckpuppy’s henchmen are left behind because this will be an important fight and therefore it’ll be Undersiders only. Going in! So of course, the universe has to throw a curve ball. The suit that deploys drones is approaching. Hmmm...kind of redundant. Both Azazel and the drone suit seem to specialize in limiting the opponent’s movement. But hey, it’s still bad news.

Facing a choice about what suit to encounter first, Skitter decides Azazel is the one to face right now. They move towards it and...well...turns out maybe the suits are trying to round them up together, most likely for ease of capture. I saw that coming, really.

Drones incoming! Nanomachine barriers incoming! A potential route is open, from what I can tell I believe Skitter’s idea was to limit the suits’ movement, because she got into a dilapidated minimall. Some drones follow her and Heckpuppy, one of them reaching our dear valiant protagonist. Bam! Iii hope she has a plan because this isn’t good at all. Her suit’s going to defend her against the drone’s electricity, but any distraction or moment of weakness will be her doom.

Being in this minimall didn’t stop Azazel, though. It shone, and then barriers came out of the ground. Oh goodness, this went pear-shaped faster than I thought it would. We’re not even halfway into this chapter! She’s surrounded by Defiant’s nanomachines technology, and it’s looking pretty damn fatal to me.

Tentatively, I commanded some of the bugs out from beneath my costume. The insulation had protected some, luck and sheer durability had saved a scant few others. They died the second they moved more than an inch away from my body, vaporized.

So she pretty much has no space to move at all, and it was already proven these nanomachines can vaporize so much stuff. This sounds like an accident waiting to happen, doesn’t it? A wrong move can end pretty badly for anyone who moves a little too much. It doesn’t seem to me like Dragon and Defiant are in the ‘cause as little harm as possible’ mindset anymore.

There comes Azazel! Veeery slowly. It’s even taking the time to not crush stuff around, while Skitter is hanging from her hand and in danger of falling down onto vaporizing hedges. Apparently she has more faith on her own strength than I do – holding your own body weight with one or both hands is pretty tough, you know – because she’s not that worried about falling, even taking the time to test something.

“I’m going to fall!” I screamed.

I could sense Azazel lunging forward, crushing a store display as it hurried to the opening, its mouth opening. It directed a blast of superheated air at the ground, so it cut through the lowest portion of the disintegration hedge, clearing the area beneath and around me.

Oh, okay, it still intends to not cause fatal damage to the targets. Good. Still, what’s the machines’ plan here? Keep the villains trapped in one place while the PRT agents come to spray them with foam? Capture her in like a cage or something and haul her to the PRT building? Wait for Defiant to arrive? I’m not entirely sure.

Time to think of a plan. The situation doesn’t look good at all, all of her allies are busy with their own fights, thanks to the drones the other suit is throwing around. Even if any of them was free to help, what could they do? Azazel was right there, standing right above Skitter. The dogs may not think twice before lunging through the disintegrating hedges, and needless to say, that’d be very harmful for them and Heckpuppy would be outraged. It’s starting to seem to me Skitter will have to rely on herself and only on herself. How do you outwit a machine, though?

“This statement is false,” I told it.

“I’ll go with true. There, that was easy,” Azazel replied.

Damn. Wouldn’t be able to shut it down with paradox. Dragon apparently had a sense of humor. The reply sounded canned, a recitation. Or she had a liking for popular culture I wasn’t aware of.

It would be incredibly pitiful if Dragon’s state-of-the-art suits could be defeated by a simple paradox, hah! Besides, looks like the suit is not obligated to respond to anything the captured villains say. Even if Skitter brings up a more complicated paradox Dragon maybe didn’t make a canned response for, it’s not like it’ll work or even provoke a reaction. Sooo what options are there?

Bugs are a no go, obviously. Skitter’s baton and other stuff aren’t likely to endure the disintegration effect, so batting away the branches of the hedges won’t work. Heck, even if Skitter had an EMP right now I don’t think it’d work, as I’m sure Defiant would engineer his nanotechnology in a way that protects it from EMP. As I see it, her only hope may be to attack the suit. Perhaps if the suit is defeated, the hedges will disappear or deactivate?

It’s possible the nanomachines are vulnerable to fire. Right, that’s a possibility, but as I see it, if they have a vulnerability then Defiant and Dragon must be aware of that too and therefore would have equipped Azazel with something to counter it. Maybe it has a fire extinguisher equipped, for all I know. Right now, given the situation, Skitter may have only one try before Azazel does something that’d trap her for real.

I wonder why it didn’t douse her with the containment foam? Perhaps the suit got too confident when the hedges were erected? It just seems a tad reckless to be giving your target enough space to be moving. You can’t give a parahuman enough space or time to think, that’s just tempting luck.

Skitter’s train of thought about her options is kind of like mine in that everything she has won’t work, but then she thinks of something that’d have never crossed my mind.

What other tools did I have?

My voice.

I’m not really certain where she’s going with this, I’ll say. Azazel is not required to reply and it’s not like a well-timed paradox will defeat it.

Dragon was smart. Smart enough to write an A.I. that wouldn’t crumble to a simple issue with paradox. But the A.I. wasn’t necessarily brilliant. It had leaped to my defense when I’d said I was in danger. Either it wasn’t smart enough to discern truth from a lie, or it wasn’t allowed to when a life was potentially in danger.

So Skitter plans to exploit the suit’s protocols, the ones that are supposed to keep her alive. That’s going to be difficult to do when all you have is your voice. The scenario about leaping to her defense was because there really was a very real danger. Unless Skitter plans to be saying ‘I’m touching these with my head, watch me!” while bending towards the hedges then crafting a scenario where she’s in danger will be difficult.

Regent and Imp are given the order to hide, so Skitter has the time and space to work. Outwit that machine!

Why’s Azazel programmed to talk and respond? Seems a bit superfluous for its main function. If/Once this suit defeated, the 2.0 version better not have the ability to respond!

“What if I told you that you were putting a human life in grave danger?”

“I have no reasonable cause to believe that.”

So this will work only if there’s reasonable cause. Any scenario Skitter can craft here would have to be something the suit can take a glance at and decide ‘oh that looks dangerous’. That’s going to be pretty difficult to do when you can’t even stand up.

It seems the scenario she’s making up relies on Imp having a second trigger that makes her invisible even to technology. That sounds plausible, in a theoretical frame. Judging by what happened to Grue, the second trigger augments or adds new powers that are related to the existent one. Either way, she says Imp is here, possibly brought by Trickster. Ah, that’s why she told Regent and Imp to hide.

“Imp could not be in this room. As of two minutes ago she was recorded at a distance of .4 miles away from this location. She could not return here in that span of time unobserved.”

Alright, this scenario pretty much states in these two minutes Imp had a second trigger event, or she had one some time ago and all this time she was willfully letting herself be seen by the machines’ sensors. Seems to me like a bit of a flimsy scenario. True, second trigger events don’t necessarily require a lot of time to happen, but it’s flimsy nonetheless. Thank goodness the suit seems to be falling for it.

Imp may be right now on Azazel, Skitter says. Given Azazel’s current position, any kind of movement could make her fall onto the hedges that are underneath the suit, harming her gravely. No opening the mouth, no moving the head or a wing – that ensures Azazel shouldn’t be able to shift positions to get away from the mortal danger. Even if it had a way to stop someone on the machine, such as a force field or something, that doesn’t change that this fictional Imp could fall and die. For a scenario that was thought by the seat of her pants it sure is surprisingly solid once you ignore the flaky foundations.

“Maybe I should be more specific,” I said. “I told them to help in general. They might not be helping me, so it’s very possible that any other suit might be in immediate proximity to Imp. Be careful you don’t accidentally crush her.”

I love how she’s turning her teammate into Schrodinger’s Imp. To me this seems like it’s stretching the scenario to its breaking point, as it could give the machines enough ground to take calculated risks as the probability of Imp not being in immediate proximity is much higher than the probability she is there, given the number of suits and that there’s only one Imp.

No visible reaction to this statement. Skitter is pretty damn lucky, seriously.

“Now,” I said, picking my words carefully, my pulse pounding, “I’m going to light a match and try to burn this thing away.”

‘And you better not counter it or else Imp will fall and die’, is what’s between the lines. Skitter takes out the matches and hesitates, deciding to use her bugs to make some sort of net. Very thick net. The drones that are still hovering nearby don’t react to the net that’s being formed up in the ceiling. Once the preparations are made, Skitter gets in position to run and lights up a match, getting it close to the nanomachines.

Wow, those things are really weak to fire.

The nanomachines are gone, therefore the danger of falling onto the hedges is gone too, Imp be damned. Azazel moves as fast as it can, spraying containment foam around. The drones and the suit are countered by the net Skitter made, she’s using it to hold the foam and turn it back onto the machines. She even manages to make the foam expand right on the suit’s jaws. Oh boy, when Defiant and Dragon check any recordings or datalogs about how Skitter defeated the suit...I hope their reaction is shown. Just to see what they’d think about all this. Skitter defeated the suit specifically made to defeat them and the Slaughterhouse Nine, just with her words and a net.

Skitter evades the foam and doesn’t evade a grappling hook, she’s forced to hide behind a large structure to avoid being pulled by the hook. She holds her position, hoping Azazel’s battery won’t last long enough to do much more, and soon it’s proven she’s right. Iii’m not sure I like this part about the grappling hook, but okay.

Other than opening its mouth to spray the foam and turning its head, Azazel hadn’t budged from its position.

It’s still operating under the assumption Imp may be around and therefore moving may crush her. Alright! This suit won’t be dangerous as long as you don’t get close enough to be sprayed. Either way, the suit has been defeated, pretty much. All that’s left is wait for the rest of the Undersiders and Travelers.

Everyone is now here – except Imp and Trickster, who stay hidden because if any of them is seen the deception Skitter concocted would be null. The dog that had been trapped is cut free, thankfully with zero description of the rotting meat suit it’s leaving behind. The team brags about how well they did against the suits. At least three suits were destroyed, and once Sundancer drives a small sun into the suit that uses technology that’s very flammable, that makes four destroyed suits.

Although I’m glad to see a victory, I’m not entirely certain this arc was a good idea. Dragon is a threat to the Undersiders, yeah, and here she went all out with more than half a dozen suits, yet they all managed to defeat four – at least four. Kind of makes Dragon look less like the threat she is. It’s a tad disappointing, honestly.

“We got lucky,” I said. “What with Imp being able to force Piggot to shut them down, and the way I could exploit it’s A.I. to lock down its movements. Maybe you can make a program versatile and leave yourself open to the program using loopholes to work around any safeties you put in place. Or you can make it heavily restricted and leave it open to vulnerabilities like what I exploited there. I guess we’re a ways off from an A.I. being smart enough to work around those limitations.”

Makes you wonder if Dragon is a smart enough AI for that. To me she is. She even chose to cooperate with Armsmaster out of her own free will, even though it’d be, you know, cooperating with a criminal, even if he wasn’t officially indicted in a court of law. Despite her own self-imposed limitations, Dragon is a very versatile program.

“It’s a matter of time,” Regent said.

“You’re such a pessimist,” Imp retorted.

“And I’m so right.”

Damn right!

There are four suits left to defeat, and since the Azazel was one of them, the rest may be a tad easier. Everyone barely gets to leave the minimall before Skitter’s phone starts ringing, communications are back.

Tattletale: “Phones are back on.”

“Why? Is she baiting us? Trying to get us to reveal our positions?”

“She’s gone,” Tattletale replied. “Suits leaving the city, satellite phones are working. Few factors at play, there. I got word back from the Dragonslayers. Paid them a few million bucks to tell me how they keep getting the upper hand on Dragon, tell me how she’s relaying commands to her suits. With that, I had some squads plant C-4 and knock down cell towers. That slowed her down, cut her bandwidth, so to speak, and limited her ability to reprogram them on the fly. I’m guessing you guys took out one or more suits?”

So it’s a victory! They defeated Dragon – again! From what I’m understanding here, Dragon usually would have the ability to reprogram the suits, most likely so they’re not stopped by things like Skitter’s theoretical Imp scenario. Being unable to do that, the suits were left to their own devices, controlled only by their own AI. But yeah, once the Azazel was definitely out of commission, it was clear Dragon was at a disadvantage.

I wonder if the Slaughterhouse Nine would figure the Dragonslayers’ methods too. I don’t imagine they have a few million dollars to spare, so they’d have to figure this out by themselves. Maybe the suits do have a chance against the Slaughterhouse Nine.

“That cost the Protectorate a good chunk of cash, and it’s detracting from Dragon’s primary mission, which is the Nine. My guess is she’s zeroing in on them. Better to have a few suits closer to where she thinks they are than to leave them here in the city for you guys to keep breaking. So she thinks, anyways, and the bigwigs that are footing the bill seem to agree.”

I mean, it costed you millions of dollars, Tattletale. Seems to me the big loser in this whole debacle is everyone’s wallet. Hey, maybe she can pass the bill to Coil and say it was a necessary expense. Better for this to be his money spent than the Undersiders’ money, haha! Besides, I’d say the humiliation of having so many suits so soundly defeated without any losses on the Undersiders or Travelers’ part is even more important. How can the heroes really consider themselves on top when things went like this? Say, what was it Piggot had said?

“The Azazel. Note that there’s no version number. It’s a fresh design, crafted to go up against the Nine and put up a serious fight. The first truly original suit she’s made in four years, and I assure you that Dragon has advanced her skills in that timeframe. If that isn’t enough of a pedigree, the Azazel was created by Dragon working in tandem with her new partner, a fellow tinker.”

Armsmaster.

She saw the reaction from us, smiled a little.

“Yes. A new partner. It was his suggestion that we park the suits here when they aren’t needed. And even though I know he’s a new cape, nobody you’d know, certainly nobody who’d have a grudge,” she smirked a little, “I think it’s a safe bet to say he had you in mind when he was building it.”

After saying something like that Piggot and Defiant sure have some serious egg on their faces. Piggot had seemed so confident about the Azazel and about how it’d put up a serious fight against the Undersiders. I mean...technically it did, it very much did! But then it was defeated with the power of theoretical scenarios. I really doubt that was how Piggot or Defiant imagined the best suit of the lot would be defeated.

Things are actually looking up! The Pure is gone, Faultline’s crew – oh, right, they exist on the sidelines – are not here either, and the heroes were walloped once again without even being able to give much of a fight, except for Dragon. No matter how you look at this, this is a victory. The only enemy group that’s around is Hookwolf’s group, no? Fenrir’s Chosen. Although...given Hookwolf isn’t with them anymore, maybe they’re not that much of a threat anymore.

Coil better give them a nice bonus for all of today’s work, by the way! Without Dinah to give the probabilities, he must have been rather uncertain about the optimal strategy to accomplish this. Show some gratitude, Coil!

Tattletale is saying it’ll be a while before Dragon strikes again, and next time she’ll do it only because she’s certain she can win. Oh, goodness, just what the future needed: Dragon being a bigger threat. I hope so, at least. That’d be fun.

So, with this, Brockton Bay is now under Coil’s control. This is just Monarch 5, though. It’s still kind of early to close this arc. There must be enough fuel for one or two chapters more, lately the arcs haven’t been as short as just five chapters. Perhaps the heroes have a last final move?

Either way, Coil gives orders: everyone shall take days off and won’t be wearing their costumes. Aw, damn, that’s going to make it difficult to deal with everything in Skitter’s territory. She can’t go in there without her costume and start giving orders around. Charlotte is the only one who knows who Skitter is, if I recall correctly. I guess Skitter could give orders via phone, but it’s just not the same than Skitter and her swarms walking around the neighborhood, doing some restoration work.

“We’ll talk later,” she said. “Gonna go see if I can get more details on what happened. Betting someone blew their top when they realized you guys demolished two of those suits.”

Speaking of someone blowing their top, what happened to Piggot? They didn’t leave her to wander the ruined alleyways and return home all by herself on foot and with handcuffs and a gag, did they? As if things weren’t humiliating enough for her with this defeat.

We’d won. We’d cost the PRT too much in resources, pride and money, and they’d apparently decided it wasn’t worth their time to uproot us. I hated the bureaucracy, the fucked up mindset of the institutions, but it was clearly working in our favor here, at least.

You know what would be even more humiliating? If, under the villains’ rule, Brockton Bay really recovers noticeably and at a faster pace than it was doing under the heroes’ benevolent watch. It sure would make them look ineffective, maybe even uncaring about the civilians’ plight. It’s already pretty good they drove out groups that had no concern other than their own profit and survival, so now Brockton Bay is under the benevolent care of the Undersiders and the Travelers.

Which in theory isn’t really that good of a situation. I’m sure for the majority of the population it’d be real hard to think of the situation as ‘their benevolent care’, given they’re dangerous villains.

Besides, Coil is still a threat. He says he’ll make the city work well and prosper, but I sure don’t trust Coil as far as I can throw him. I really can’t say if his presence is good for anyone.

So, this is the end of the chapter. Nice! Let’s stop here for now.

Next time: in three updates

#worm #worm liveblog #webserial #liveblog #webserial liveblog

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