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I don't think you convinced her it wasn't poisoned, AM. Based off of that post, if you couldn't tell
#MY STORY NOW. WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO#blood#eye strain#i have no clue how to tag nooses!!! so!!!!!!!!!#ask to tag#comics#cosmo creates#ihnmaims#i have no mouth and i must scream#also not tagging everybody are you kidding me.#maybe ill draw more of the gang later but. i had to focus on my girl ellen lol#she does not get the love she deserves so the rest of the gang is BANISHED to the ARTISTIC SILHOUETTE REALM.#think its easy to guess who's who#drug reference
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The Ease With Which We Hurt [I] ICorpse Husband x Fem!ReaderI
A/N: You guys. I have never simultaneously loved AND hated a piece that I wrote. I really don’t know how I feel about this, but I promised myself last year that I wouldn’t overthink my writing, so here we are. This is part one of most likely four, but we’ll see about that. Thank you to everyone in my inbox who gave me ideas to turn this into a multi chapter fic! They’re all coming, I promise :)
SYNOPSIS: Corpse loves her, she loves Corpse. But both of them are too dumb to realize it, and too afraid to admit it.
It started, like most good things in his life, out of the blue.
He met her three years ago. Well, not met, but befriended her three years ago when her podcast was just taking off. He remembers sending her a DM about how great her work was, remembers her being gracious in her praise of his own narrations after and he remembers talking to her well into the night until she fell asleep. The rest, to Corpse, is history.
And yet, all he knows of her is a voice, a name, and the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen. she chooses to wear a mask every time they FaceTime, just for the formality of the entire ‘faceless’ situation. She’s told him she thinks it’s ironic, how she feels like he knows her inside out, and she’s still afraid to show him her face. It’s not like corpse can blame her. She doesn’t even know his name, let alone what he looks like, and it’s a miracle she hasn’t filed him away as some no face creep by this point.
But she hasn’t. She’s still here, after three years of being her friend, and almost a year of seeing her eyes and convincing himself that she’s his friend, damnit, she’s still here. It’s already a lot more than he can ask for.
He’s been holding himself back from falling in love. Or rather, he’s been in love for as long as he can remember, but he's been adamant on denying it; because he knows how this goes. It’s never gone well for him in the past. And he’s not ashamed to admit that he’s afraid. But sometimes, she tells him things that make his heart break, just out of the realization of how absolutely fucking stupid he's being, holding back from her.
He’s convinced that when he dies, she’s going to be the light at the end of his tunnel. That heaven means nothing more to him than a place in her world, however small, however insignificant, as long as he gets to see her eyes for the rest of eternity.
Every part of corpse tells him that it's love. But he tries to push it away, suppress his own feelings till he's nothing but a walking contradiction, overflowing with voices that only say her name.
But he’s tired. And he's scared. Because he’s been down that road before, opened himself up to people who haven’t liked what they saw and left with pieces of him he’s not sure how to tape back. He’s unsure if he's willing to let her try.
So, he settles for a small corner of her world, a little piece of her existence that gives him life, and every time he talks to her, hands flailing as she animatedly tells another story, he pushes the yearning to the back of his head till it crawls down and clings to his windpipe, unsure and immeasurable, and he can’t speak anymore without choking. But then she says things that make his heart jump into his throat, and then he’s choking but for entirely different reasons.
“What would you do if I was gone?”
He doesn’t mean it like that. Well, he does, a little bit, but his brain isn’t taking over every part of his body trying to convince him he’s unwanted, so he doesn’t mean it like that. He’s only curious, maybe in need of a little reassurance. And nobody does reassurance better than her.
She doesn’t say anything for a very long moment. Corpse knows the gist of her impending answer but the pause still blooms unnecessarily in his chest. But it’s not like they haven’t done this before.
“I’d write about you.”
“Huh?”
She only huffs a laugh at his confusion. She pulls a blanket closer around her and props up her phone to rest against what he assumes is a wall.
“You’re not easy to forget, Corpse,” her voice is soft, truthful without flattery, provides comfort without justification. “if you were gone, I’d write about you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, that’s the least I’d need to cope.”
It’s not what he thought he’d hear, but it’s becoming increasingly clear to him that it’s exactly what he needed. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her.
“Besides,” she continues, hair falling in her face as she adjusts the blanket, “there is no place for me in a world without you in it.”
And he physically feels his heart stop and clench in his chest. The thought of meaning this much to anyone, to her in particular, is more than he knows how to handle. So, he doesn’t follow that up with a quip, no teasing laughter, no suggestive, exaggerated winks that only he can see. He only lets himself bask in the warmth of her honesty, lets her smile at him in that way only she does, the way that makes him freeze and ache and crumble.
He chooses not to talk after that, settles for listening to her tell stories about her childhood. Her voice is the purest thing he’s ever heard, he’d hear her talk till the world ended if he could, and the sweet lilt of her voice lulls him to sleep hours after she’s hung up the phone.
He doesn’t get to talk to her for almost two weeks after that. He misses her a little, but he keeps that to himself, and instead, tags her under dumb twitter memes and sends her pictures of cats that he’s saved specifically for times like these, and another video of two geckos fighting on a tree captioned ‘u and me’ .
There’s no place for me in a world without you in it.
The words wrap around his ribs like a noose, tightening by the second. Some days, when his heart is fast enough to beat out of his ribcage, it grounds him just as much as it hurts. But when she’d said it to him, it passed through him like a train wreck, distorting all semblance of control he’d convinced himself he had.
He knows it’s ridiculous, but he loves her. She’s only a voice through his phone and eyes on his screen and he has no clue what the rest of her looks like, but he’d be damned if he lets himself deny it one more time. He loves her. And that’s the most terrifying thought he’s ever entertained.
It doesn’t take long after that realization takes root, for him to send her a picture. He doesn’t let himself think too much about it. Taking pictures of himself is still new to him, but he tries his best. Don't think about it too much, he reminds himself, and unsurprisingly, it's her voice in his head that does all the soothing. He captions it something stupid, more out of habit than anything else (my hair makes me look like Dora the exploraH), with his name across his forehead and ‘Dora’ in brackets beside it.
Momentarily, he wonders if he’s ever asked her if she even wants to see his face. (He has, and he distantly remembers her agreeing as long as he’s comfortable with it.)
He hits send before he has the chance to stop and think.
Then he waits.
Her response is quicker than he’s prepared for, her name flashing across the facetime request on his phone. He’s giggling before he even picks it up.
“CORPSE, WHAT THE FUCK!”
For a very long moment, they just stare, taking each other in. This is his endgame, corpse thinks, he’s never going to need to show anyone his face after this, nothing, no one will matter as much.
With a jolt, he realizes that she’s not wearing her mask. He can see her, all of her, and that on its own should be enough to take him out.
And then she smiles.
If there was any doubt in his mind before about how head over heels he is, she’s taken it out of his mind and stomped it to the ground. He’s not the poet in this friendship, but he’s assured he could write entire paragraphs about the way she smiles. And he tells her exactly that.
“I’m curious to see how that would fit with fine lass nice ass cat ears and she uwu,” she teases, eye twinkling with mirth, “but I'm sure you’ll figure it out.”
He’s both amazed and amused at how quickly they go from fawning to bantering. But perhaps that’s the thing about her that feels so familiar.
“I will write a song about you baby, don’t tempt me.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a confession,” he shrugs, suddenly shy, unsure of where to lead with this. Thankfully, she interjects before he has to say anything else.
“That’s an awfully bold confession for a man called Corpse.”
“I’m also awfully alive for a man called Corpse, but you don’t see me complaining.” Awfully alive and not enough husband, he wants to say, but he keeps that to himself.
“You complain about being alive everyday, Mister Husband,” she counters and Corpse groans, dropping his head into his hands.
“I say that to you in confidence,” he grits out, playfully glazing at her.
“You also tell about a million people on stream, I’m not special,” she laughs.
“You are very special to me.” His voice is soft, shy, almost afraid to tell her the things he’s saying, “I did say I’d write a song about you. Pretty special if you ask me.”
She hums, taking a huge gulp of water and nodding enthusiastically.
“Correct, me, the cat girl and the e girl. What’s the next single, Corpse? Faceless Girls are ruining my life?”
“You’re a rascal,” he chides as a familiar warmth settles around his heart, and grips.
“It is one of my finer qualities, yes.”
Distantly, some part of his brain registers that this is the first time he’s seen her, but there is no sense of hesitation in his head about her. It feels just like it always has, with her on the phone saying the silliest things, and him responding with equal enthusiasm. This is the way they’ve always been.
While she talks, hands animatedly moving around, Corpse allows himself a small moment of reprieve to think. He knows he loves her, but he wonders briefly if it’s too soon to be in love with her (he concludes that probably it is, given that she remains unaware of his feelings, but he finds that it doesn’t really matter)
Because while Corpse loves her, he’s sure he doesn't know how to love her. Doesn’t know her favourite flowers even if he knows her coffee order by heart, doesn’t know her ideal date even if he’s memorized every poem she loves.
The meanest parts of his brain tell him she deserves better, and he knows they’re wrong. But a small part of him can’t help but dwell. He’d rather have her and her unnecessary hand movements in his life as his friend than not at all. So he pushes away his feelings for another day, and just listens to her talk.
Corpse is perfectly content with that.
#corpse husband x reader#corpse husband imagine#corpse husband imagines#the ease with which we hurt#coco writes#friends to lovers#we love that trope in this household#if you reblog with stuff in the tags i WILL read it and cry#also if u reblog it with ur favourite part quoted i will cry#i just will cry thats a personality trait lmao#Sometiems i feel like the continuity of his chapter feels rushed#but idk i dont have the patience to fix it so i wont
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Whether It Works Out Or Not; Back In The Cage
Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2
Pairing: High Honor!Arthur Morgan/Named OFC
Rating: Holy shit T.
AN: Okay I promise I swear this is the last bonus chapter until I finish the game. I swear.
[Spoiler warning for the first four chapters of the game!]
Tag List: @huliabitch @cookiethewriter @pedrosbigdorkenergy @thirstworldproblemss @anonymouscosmos @culturalrebel @karmezii @teaofpeach @crookedmoonsaultpunk @wrestlingfae @zombiexbody @nelba @scribblenotes76 @toxiicpop @mstgsmy @misty-possum @gallowsjoker @midnightbeauty35 @lackofhonor @renegademustelid
Part One: Strangers
Part Two: Friends
Part Three: More
Bonus One: A Brief Diversion
[!TRIGGER WARNING!: For allusions to character death, mentions of previous abuse, historical inaccuracies and my poorly-remembered French. Stay safe!]
She felt a bit silly in her outfit.
Of course, she didn't need to display as such. "Tastefully understated," she had said to herself in the mirror with a firm nod. It was the fawn-brown dress (admittedly, it was the only dress she currently owned), but she had scraped together the funds for some light trimmings and alterations. A flounce of lace around the hem, a small length of lovely cream ribbon at the waist. The corset, while unwanted, would be expected, practically required in polite company, and even secondhand it was by far the most expensive piece of the puzzle. After that, everything else seemed to fall into place.
Irene Carson (née Craft) arrived at the ball astride Bluster, her hair crowned with a plethora of vanilla flowers and one single spider orchid. The buttermilk buckskin had been curried to within an inch of his life, and sported a matching cluster of vanilla flowers in his mane. He behaved remarkably well given all the hubbub, not putting up any fuss when he was taken from her to be stabled for the evening.
Irene had no elaborate hat to wear, no fantastical feathered monstrosity, so she had made do with what she could find. The flowers would be out of fashion, but they would suit her understated attire a bit better. Perhaps she could be fashionably unfashionable, ahead of the curve.
"I will not be on the list, but please tell Mayor Lemieux that it is the Widow Carson." She politely informed the man with the list at the gate, doing her best to seem calm and collected.
This was a bold move in the normally-subtle social maneuvering of Saint Denis. Attempting to integrate herself back into the gentry was a risky strategy, but a recent realization had convinced her of the necessity of such a move.
Arthur had made an excellent point. That house had sat silent for long enough. It was time for her to take what spoils she could, time for her to think of the future. Hardly fair that she should escape her dismal marriage with nothing but the clothes on her back!
Tonight would be the first step, provided she could even get past the door.
As luck would have it, the mayor himself, Henri Lemieux, came out to verify her claim. "Irene? My dear Mrs. Carson, is it really you?" He asked, all a-fluster. "Let me look at you my dear, let me just…" The man took her by the shoulders, examining her face. "It is you! Mon dieu, Irene, we all thought you had perished! Willie assured us-"
"I am certain he went to great lengths to convince you all of the legitimacy of my death." Irene interrupted him coolly. "However, it would appear that he greatly exaggerated."
"He said you...Irene, my dear, he claimed you committed suicide. He had me thoroughly convinced! But he remarried so quickly, I…" The mayor shook his head in a disapproving manner. "I know more individuals than I alone were skeptical! Oh it is so good to see you again, my dear. Please, you are more than welcome." He offered her his arm, which she took without hesitation. "How have you been, my cheré? Your hair is so short, so fashionable! I see you have been taking cues from our sister city of Paris, ne c'est pas?"
"Naturellement, my dear sir." Irene replied, offering him a soft smile. "I know I will look somewhat out of place in your party. Please forgive my impropriety, but when the news of Willie's passing reached me...I so longed to see you all again, I could not stay away."
"Nonsense, you have nothing to apologize for!" The mayor scolded her lightly, patting her arm. "You have returned from the dead, our very own Lazarus wreathed in flowers like a Belgian-crafted nymph! You are most welcome at our little fête, dear girl. I daresay, after whatever it was that you went through, you are quite justified in a night of revelry." His heavily-accented voice dipped to a conspiratorial tone, "and you must tell us all about your trials. I am certain you have a grand story indeed!"
"Thank you for your hospitality, my dear Mayor Lemieux. I pray that the road ahead of me is far kinder than the road I have traveled thus far."
…
And here Arthur had thought that them playing lawmen was as foolish as they could get.
He couldn't even believe some of the stunts Dutch was willing to pull for the sake of networking or contacts. The bunch of them looked like damn circus animals in their tuxedos and white ties, and Bill in particular seemed aggressively uncomfortable. Just getting him to bathe had been a struggle.
Arthur personally had been downright henpecked by Grimshaw and Tilly, the two of them doing their damnedest to tame his thick, unruly mane with a comb and the vestiges of some pomade. All the while Abigail alternated between telling him he would cause every woman at the ball to swoon and bemoaning his stubble. He had shaved yesterday, damn it, and he wasn't going to shave again!
Lord, they were all fools.
Hosea was the only one who seemed to be even remotely at ease, the elderly man already maneuvering his way to the balcony above the courtyard before Dutch had even managed to find Bronte so they could 'pay their respects'. Bill just followed Hosea like a lost puppy.
Arthur didn't have to understand Italian to know that Senor Bronte was insulting them right out the gate. Neither did Dutch, if the tense smile he gave Angelo while they conversed was any indication.
Arthur was slightly entertained by the panic that flitted across the waiter's face when the larger man ended up catching his arm to use the match originally lit for Dutch's cigar. Never mind that Arthur had had to cut his own cigar with his damn teeth, he was used to doing that shit. Used to falling by the wayside in the gregarious presence of Dutch Van Der Linde. But he wasn't about to let this stuffed-shirt little cocktail carrier get away with ignoring him scot-free. An uncut cigar he could excuse, but an unlit one? That was sacrilege.
The courtyard was teeming with people, illuminated by the soft glow from crisscrossing strands of fashionable Edison bulbs. There were so many ornate gowns, elaborate hats and stiff-necked suits, Arthur scarcely knew where to look. "Mingle, Arthur." Dutch ordered in an undertone, giving him a concealed shove from behind. "Steal nothing unless it's information."
Arthur sighed, straightened his white tie with the air of a man set before the gallows, and slowly descended into what reminded him of how educated folks would describe an active volcano. The courtyard was a maelstrom of activity, the dull roar punctuated by the mosquito-esque whine of a string quartet. God, what he would give to be out with Irene in the hills instead, listening to her play the fiddle for the wolves.
He shook his head at himself. Again with this nonsense, thinking about her every time he heard violin music.
He gritted his teeth and approached a group of women, seizing a bottle of champagne off one of the tables as he went. Arthur Morgan was not a smart man, but if there was one thing he knew, it was that folk were more inclined to think charitably towards you if you brought them alcohol.
"Ladies, might I offer you some champagne?" Arthur asked, knowing his speech was stilted at best as he tried to choke his drawl down. The trio of women seemed to buy it though, simpering and preening while calling him a gentleman.
That was a lie, and Lord was it a bold one. Though, looking around at the so-called polite company, Arthur felt less like the villain that he was and more like a sheep that had wandered into a wolf's den.
Maybe a nest of vipers would be more accurate.
Either way, the large man wasn't used to feeling like prey. As he made his rounds slowly across the courtyard, complimenting outlandish hats and offering his input on the most recent theatre performances (which he had absolutely no clue about), Arthur experienced the distinct sensation of the noose tightening around his neck yet again. Saint Denis was far too civilized for the likes of the Van Der Linde gang. It was only a matter of time before they were rooted out, sent scampering into the night like the vermin they were or slaughtered without quarter.
Lord, this place made him long for the open country.
He bumped into Hosea and Dutch shortly after he had rescued a rail-thin man from choking to death on some peanuts, the two elders of the gang looking like they were plotting something.
"Figure anythin' out yet?" Arthur asked softly.
"Maybe, Arthur. You see that group of folks over by the fountain? That fellow with the tall top hat is the mayor himself." Dutch pointed the man out, gesturing with his cigar.
"So?" Arthur muttered.
"So, my dear boy, ingratiating ourselves with the mayor's little band will no doubt do wonders for our credibility."
"Dutch, if the mayor is already cozy in Bronte's pocket like we are, what's even the damn point?" Arthur queried, trying not to sound as sulky as he felt.
Dutch sighed heavily and Hosea quickly interjected, "it's not necessarily the mayor that's our target, Arthur. Rather, the group of people with him. We are attempting to make as many friends as we can, if you recall."
The large man nodded. "Shoah, I guess. You want me to mosey over and...what was the word? Ingrate myself?"
"Ingratiate Arthur, dear Lord." Dutch huffed.
"Right, yeah. Usual fake name?"
"Of course, my dear boy!" Hosea replied brightly, smiling and patting him on the back. "You may have some luck with the woman he has alongside him. From what I can gather, she's stolen the show a bit. The Widow Carson, back from the dead!" He chuckled, oblivious to the way Arthur froze. "Apparently she's returned to attempt to claim her deceased husband's money. Some nasty business, for certain."
"See if you can get into her good graces, Arthur. A wealthy benefactor could do the gang wonders." Dutch instructed absently, already back to scanning the crowds.
"Her good--Dutch what the hell are you sayin'?!" Arthur hissed, his stomach knotting as a nasty sense of comprehension slowly dawned on him.
"Oh go on Arthur, just pour on the charm! I know you can do it." Hosea encouraged, misinterpreting the source of Arthur's discomfort. The older man gave him a gentle nudge and Arthur found himself sent on his way.
A wealthy benefactor. Was it Irene? Was Irene really here? More importantly, was Arthur shameless enough to accomplish what Dutch had requested of him?
A wealthy benefactor. His skin crawled and Arthur suddenly felt disgusting as he realized that, were it not for his suspicion that the Widow Carson was indeed Irene, he would not have any sort of particular qualms about being asked to do something like this.
Is it Irene? All he could see from his current position was Mayor Lemieux's top hat. He loitered beside a garish floral arrangement for a few moments, trying his best to get himself under control. He was Arthur Morgan, the enforcer of the Van Der Linde gang for fuck's sake! He had survived countless trials before this, surely he could manage speaking to a woman at a party!
Arthur growled under his breath, clenched his fists, and slowly approached the group by the fountain.
"-cheré, you must continue with your story! Ferdinand, stop interrupting, I beg of you!" The mayor was chiding one of the other men standing there, his voice luxuriantly heavy with a French accent.
The other man, whose complexion was bright red (whether from drink or passion, Arthur could not yet discern), scoffed at the mayor. "Her tale is rife with inaccuracies, Henri! We knew Willie, he would never-"
"Unless you too visited him in his bedchambers, Ferdinand, I suggest you keep your observations to yourself."
Irene. Oh Lord, Irene, flowers woven into her hair like she was a damn forest spirit out of those old Greek tragedies. It was like time had stopped for Arthur as he took in every detail. God, he was startled all over again by just how much he had missed her. She was in that dress, the one she had worn in Valentine. But wonder of all wonders, she appeared to be fully-laced this evening. Arthur swallowed hard, tearing his eyes away from the shapely curve of her hips. The way her corset held and molded her body into something devastating, a weapon normally concealed from him by men's clothing…
Well, he was a red-blooded American. Unfortunately right now, he had to try his damnedest to temper that particular truth about his nature.
"It ain't complex, Lemieux, and only an idiot like you, buddy, would try to make it so!" Ferdinand continued over what Irene had been saying, sloshing the liquor in his glass dangerously close to that beautiful dress. Irene's brown eyes were fairly crackling with restrained fury, color high in her cheeks as she endured being near this loathsome character. She looked magnificent. Arthur wished he could kiss her, right then and there.
"I will not deny idiocy sir, but perhaps now is not the time." The mayor tried to settle Ferdinand down by placating him, however the outspoken man didn't seem to get the hint.
"Typical pansy!"
"You are drunk, Ferdinand." Lemieux stated disapprovingly.
"I'm not drunk, you fool...but this man! This man loves damsels-"
"Ferdinand, your behavior is becoming unseemly." Irene said through clenched teeth. Arthur had a nasty feeling that he knew exactly what Ferdinand had been about to say before Irene cut him off. "Not to mention utterly irrelevant to the topic at hand. Must you constantly inflict your heinous presence upon polite company?"
"Hey hey, you are pretty drunk." Arthur chose that moment to intervene, draping his arm nonchalantly around the belligerent man's shoulders and pinning Ferdinand's arm behind his back after a momentary adjustment. "What's say you and me cool off?" He 'suggested' cheerily, strong-arming the drunkenly-protesting Ferdinand off to the gazebo at the rear of the courtyard. Giving the man a rough shove, Arthur stated (much more rationally than he felt like being at the moment), "sit down and calm down. Count to a thousand. Then, you can rejoin the party."
...
"Thank you sir!" Henri said sincerely, shaking Arthur's hand upon his triumphant return sans one loudmouth.
"My pleasure." The tawny-haired man replied with a boyish grin. Lord, if she had thought he looked dashing before-! Irene was tempted to feign a swoon. Arthur had clearly been blessed by a trip to the tailor, of that much she was certain. The black suit coat accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist in equal measure, leaving him imposingly proportionate in a way that was incredibly tasteful. She was sorely pressed to keep her eyes from wandering, realizing vaguely that Henri was introducing himself.
"Henri Lemieux. I hope you are enjoying my party?"
"The mayor!" Arthur said with an air of surprise, as if he had not known. Irene didn't buy it for a second. Though she was grateful for his timely arrival, she had to wonder why he was here. Did Arthur Morgan have friends in high places?
"Allegedly!" Henri replied with a modest chuckle. "And you are?"
"Tacitus Killgore, at your service." Irene blinked. That was unexpected. What an elaborate fake name, but he said it so confidently! "This is quite a place you've got here." Arthur continued the conversation, his drawl a touch off. Like he was deliberately attempting to soften it.
"It's not mine, and the city is horribly in debt, but we still can put on a good show." Henri gestured after a moment to the man on his right. "Do you know Evelyn Miller, Monsieur Killgore?"
"My Lord. The writer?" Arthur appeared legitimately awed now, shaking Mr. Miller's hand. Irene could understand that awe, Miller was a revered and respected author amongst the folk in the untamed wilderness of the new States. She herself had been simply soaking up the man's educated palaver like a sponge until Henri urged her to begin sharing her trials.
"Ah, and of course! Our unexpected but most welcome guest, Madame the Widow Irene Carson." Henri introduced her with an elaborate flourish of his hand, making her laugh. "She has been regaling us with the exciting tale of her return to life! It is fascinating to hear."
"Enchanté, Mister Killgore." Irene said, smiling and offering Arthur a quick curtsy. Again, out of fashion, and a bit difficult with the added restriction of her corset, but the quaint gesture had always been preferable to a nod as far as she was concerned. If only that bath girl hadn't been so thorough in lacing her!
Arthur bowed, took her hand and touched it to his lips chastely. "The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Carson." Her murmured, blue eyes boring into her own. Irene suddenly felt incredibly warm, despite her no-doubt constricted blood flow. "A return to life, you said? Have you been travelin' abroad then, ma'am?"
"Oh no sir, I'm afraid it's been nothing quite so delightful as that." Irene demurred. "Rather trying, in all honesty."
"Truly, it is a sordid affair. Her own husband, claiming she had perished!" Henri shook his head, looking appropriately distraught. "Ghastly. Then, Willie marrying that other woman so fast, and her turning out to be a murderer...well, it is like something from a cheap novel!"
"How awful that experience must have been for you, my lady." Arthur said softly. "Might I listen to the rest of the story, or are you weary of tellin' such a tale?"
"I'm afraid there is not overmuch left to tell, Mister Killg-"
"Please, ma'am, call me Tacitus." He insisted, his eyes bright with their secret joke.
Irene couldn't help her smile in reply. "Of course, Tacitus. But as I was saying, there is not much to tell. I have spent most of my exile cowering in a cabin out in the mountains, shivering to death or roasting alive." She had tried so very hard to dumb down the tale, doing her best to make it seem like she was still the frail and fragile Mrs. Carson.
"It sounds like you have endured quite a bit of hardship, ma'am." Arthur's lips quirked upwards at the corner, his smile faint but still there. "It's a miracle you managed to survive! A delicate li'l thing like you, all alone out there in that dangerous wilderness." His voice dipped low enough to make her shiver. "Especially with such...reprehensible folk about these days."
Like me, his gaze seemed to say, the heat in that look reminding Irene of when he had kissed her at the stables.
"Exactly what I said, Monsieur Tacitus! Irene, you were so rash! I know that you believed you had no recourse, and I must apologize for my own complacency regarding Willie's abhorrent behavior, but surely there was another way!" The mayor scolded her.
"I am so very sorry, Henri. Next time I am kept prisoner in my own house, I'll be certain to send you a messenger pigeon." Irene retorted wryly, making Henri sputter as Arthur outright laughed. Ah, that laugh! She would have gladly borne her troubles in silence had she known such a delightful sound would someday grace her ears.
Irene was struck anew by the providence of her whole situation while she watched Arthur do his best to play at high society. She had not often been afforded the privilege to observe him, instead of the other way around. His blue eyes caught the amber light quite marvelously, his jaw shaded with stubborn stubble that gave him just the tiniest hint of wildness, of untamed danger. Enough to make him appealing to many of the women present. Irene wasn't sure if she should be flattered or concerned about the amount of time he was spending with the mayor and, by proxy, herself.
She was growing increasingly lightheaded from the squeeze of her corset and was just about to ask Henri if she could impose upon his hospitality for a brief reprieve to adjust herself when abruptly, the butler approached to inform Mayor Lemieux that he had another phone call from the tycoon, Leviticus Cornwall.
Henri waved the man off as fireworks began to erupt overhead. Irene, noting how Arthur watched the butler depart a touch more narrowly than one might in polite company, dared to place a hand on his arm. "Tacitus, my dear, you play your cards too openly." She whispered, her words making Arthur grimace. "May I ask you to escort me upstairs? I fear all this excitement has me feeling a bit short of breath."
…
"Tacitus-" Irene gasped his fake moniker at the top of the stairs, groping the wall for some kind of support. "I realize this is very forward of me, but I must beg for your assistance in loosening these damned--" She paused for air. "Lord, I fear I will swoon. This is so tight-"
"Okay, easy now." Arthur murmured, privately marveling at how large his hands looked on her cinched waist when he steadied her. "I gotcha', Irene. It's alright."
She didn't appear to be exaggerating for his sake. The walk up the stairs had nearly done her in, it would seem. She was incredibly pale, and trembling slightly. He had assumed that she was just playing along for whatever reason, the two of them stalking the butler for fun or profit, but it was evident now that she had no such ulterior motives.
Arthur picked a door at random, immensely thankful that the room behind it was a parlour of sorts. Irene all but collapsed on the chaise, her fingers clumsy with the tiny buttons that ran the length of the front of her dress. Arthur rushed to assist after he made certain to lock the door, feeling a little frantic at the way Irene was wheezing for air.
"You're okay, you're okay, we'll get you loosened up." He tried to calm her (and himself), working on the next button in the line. "Front or back lacing, Irene?"
"Back." Her voice had gone pitchy. "I--she laced me very well."
"I know, shh, gimme' a minute." Arthur soothed, willing himself to relax. This wasn't any sort of terrible scenario, this was mundane compared to how his life usually was! How the hell was it that his hands were shaking more over getting a woman undressed than being shot at by the law?!
The two of them managed to peel the dress down over her shoulders far enough to let Arthur maneuver his hands in between her chemise and corset to loosen her laces. Slowly, carefully, he worked his way down, gradually slacking the binds. He didn't want to just undo the whole damn thing, that would leave her to endure the remainder of the party with her bosom unfettered and as appealing as that was to him, he knew that the gentry would tear her apart for it.
"Any better?" He asked after a moment, relieved when she nodded.
Then, "I didn't think you would actually help me." She admitted softly, holding her dress closed in the front. Arthur was stunned. "I assumed you were going to follow his retainer." Irene turned to look at him after a moment. "Why are you here, Arthur?"
Lord, he felt like a sinner on Judgement Day. Pinned by the weight of an angel's stare, all he could do was try to tell her the truth. "My...associates and I are...well, we need leads, Miss Irene. Senor Bronte, in exchange for our...services, cut us a deal for invitations to this ball. And uh, I suppose that's it." He said awkwardly. "I didn't expect you to be here, I figured you'd have headed for the Grizzlies by now."
Irene shrugged. "I thought long and hard about what you said during our last meeting. Me not taking everything that wasn't nailed down, that is." She squared her shoulders stiffly, trying to straighten her dress out. "I decided it was time to take back what's rightfully mine, propriety be damned."
Arthur put his hands on her shoulders, slipping the dress back down to reveal bare, freckled skin. He breathed her name, ducking his head to drop a kiss on the nape of her neck and feeling her shiver. His next words caught in his throat. How could he do something like that to her?
A wealthy benefactor, Dutch had said, like it was an afterthought. Like she wasn't a person, but a resource. A tool.
Because that was all she would be to Dutch, Arthur realized grimly. A silly woman for them to string along, someone with deep pockets and a trusting heart. She wasn't Irene to Dutch or Hosea, she was the Widow Carson. A naive young widow, beautiful and lonely and (possibly) about to come into some significant money. The perfect target for a good old-fashioned seduction.
Lord, he had almost preferred feeling like prey earlier to this sudden cold understanding of how his companions (and even he himself, to a lesser degree) saw people like Irene.
"You look beautiful tonight, Irene." He murmured instead.
"Don't tease me, Arthur." Irene retorted sharply. "I am an utter mess. I look like a child playing dress up amongst all the immaculate gowns down there." She then sniffled, the noise almost too soft for him to hear. "I very nearly fainted dead away because I haven't worn one of these blasted things in almost a year! What kind of proper lady can't even endure the simplest of corsets?"
"The kind that doesn't need one to turn every damn head in the room." Arthur said gruffly, a hand beneath her chin tilting her head back so he could see her face. Her brown eyes shone with frustrated tears. "You're beautiful, woman. Why the hell don't you believe it?"
"A majority of my marriage was punctuated by people who felt the need to inform me that I was attractive 'for my age', Arthur. I'm old, I'm nearly thirty. No man wants a wife that old. My father was hard-pressed to marry me off when I was twenty-four, can you even imagine what folk might say to a man who would court me in my thirties?" Irene shook her head despondently. "I...I don't know what I'm doing, Arthur." She confessed suddenly. "I am terrified. If I put effort into taking whatever might be left and it turns out to all be for naught, I don't know what I'll do!" Her hands twisted in her skirts. "I'll be back to where I was before."
Arthur wasn't certain he understood what the issue was. She had seemed happy out in the wilderness. Hell, she had insisted upon her happiness. What had brought on this change, this desire for stability and financial security? He was thoroughly confused. "I don't know what to tell you, Irene." He said finally.
"I know, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even brought it up." Irene apologized. "It's hardly your concern, Mister Tacitus." She tried to tease, daubing at her eyes with her sleeve and then starting to button her dress back up. "Just the worries of a silly woman whose age is catching up with her, I suppose."
Arthur caught her wrist to stop her, pressing a kiss to the inside of it like he had done so many times before. Her pulse tripped and hammered beneath his lips, galloping wildly. "Irene, you are beautiful." He sighed, his fingertips grazing her exposed collarbone when he palmed her shoulders from behind. "Everyone down there knows it. I know it. You could have your pick of fellers downstairs if that's what you're so worried about."
"It's such a fleeting thing, Arthur." She whispered. "When it is gone, if I cannot reclaim any of Willie's estate...I'll have nothing and no one."
Arthur wanted to die. He wanted to grab her shoulders and embrace her and say you'll have me, God damn it! But he knew he couldn't promise her that, as much as he wanted to. Hell, getting truly involved with him would no doubt cut her life short. That fear was what kept him from speaking, no matter how badly he wished to assure her. Even after the tender moments they had spent together in the wilds, now, when it would have made a difference, he was unable to offer any sort of meaningful comfort.
Arthur closed his eyes, cursing himself roundly. "You don't mean that, Irene. The mayor seems-"
"Henri was perfectly willing to overlook my abuse when Willie was funding his campaign. All of them down there were complacent." Irene interjected, her tone one of barely-bridled fury. "Politicians and the elite are of no use to me, Arthur, for I am of no use to them."
Fair enough, Arthur mused. "So what are you gonna' do, then?"
"I'm going to try and bring my case to the attention of the courts. Willie was an only child, which is the sole reason I may still have a chance to receive something for my trouble." Irene's shoulders slumped and Arthur dug his fingers in, silently working out a few of the knots she seemed to have created in her muscles.
"I hope it goes accordin' to plan for you, then." He said finally.
"As do I." Irene took his hand, leading him around to the front of the chaise. "I have missed you, Arthur Morgan." She said simply. Sweet and honest.
He was a fool.
Arthur felt like cheap gold leaf as he greedily buried his hands in her hair, sending one of the vanilla blossoms tumbling to the floor when he did. He felt like a veneer of class spread thin on his thieving bones, he felt like a liar. This vision of a woman, this divine being who trusted him so readily...
This time would be the last. It would have to be. If Dutch found him out, if his pre-established closeness to the Widow Carson was discovered, Arthur knew that Dutch would tell him to bleed her dry.
And Arthur, the kind, loyal man that he was, would do it. Because loyalty was everything.
…
Arthur was troubled. Even through her own worries, Irene could see that. She threaded her fingers through the shaggy locks at the nape of his neck, whispering his name. "What's wrong, Arthur?"
"I...I can't keep doin' this, Irene." He confessed, those blue eyes stormy with emotion. "I can't keep draggin' you down with me. You deserve so much more than a man who you don't really know, a man who's here an' gone again. It ain't right."
"I don't much care what I deserve, Arthur Morgan." Irene said tartly. "If you want me, I am here. You have yet to cause me harm in any of our endeavors, which is more than I can say for my prior partner." She tugged at the back of his neck, bringing their foreheads together. "If you want me, Arthur, I am here."
"Irene," he grated out, cupping her face, "I'm a bad man. I've done a whole heap of turrible things. I ain't the kind of man that you should be lettin' anywhere near you."
"And despite all of that, I'm beneath you on a chaise in the mayor's upstairs drawing room." Irene replied dryly. "Honestly Arthur, I thought you knew by now that my intuition is quite dreadful."
"Irene-"
"You are remarkably poor at displaying any sort of reluctance, Mister Arthur." It felt like icy fingers were creeping their way down her spine. Had he finally decided that whatever they were, it wasn't worth his time? She could hardly blame him, of course! She was a currently-penniless widow. She had offered herself freely in the past; he owed her nothing, just as she owed him nothing.
"Because I ain't reluctant!" Arthur exclaimed. "I'm...Christ, Irene, I want this. I want you, so much that it hurts. But the life I lead ain't got a chance in it for a happy, fairytale endin' where I get to live out my days in peace. I have people I need to take care of, and you have a life of your own to finally start livin'." He stated firmly. "So for both our sakes, we can't...continue."
"At the very least," Irene begged, her thumbs stroking the familiar scar on his chin while she peppered his face with light pecks, "may we still be friends, Arthur?"
"Irene…" Arthur breathed, tilting his face to the side and kissing her until she was dizzy. "You've given me so damn much, woman. Given me hope, and beauty, and music. My friendship ain't worth spit compared to what you've done for me."
Irene shook her head, blinking back her tears. "I'm the one that ought to be saying that, Mister Arthur!" She protested. "I wish there was more I could do to repay the kindness you've shown me."
"Miss Irene, all the payment I ask for is that you go and live your life to the fullest extent. Take tenfold from that son of a bitch what he took from you." Arthur swept back some of the curls on her forehead, the gesture achingly tender. "Do that, and you'll be paid up, alright?" He murmured.
Irene took his hand and kissed his knuckles, feeling the pronounced lines of old abrasions on the skin when she did. "Don't give up, Arthur. There is someone out there who will be worth it to you." She told him, her voice trembling a bit as she struggled to get the words out. "Someone who will see you for how kind and loyal you are and instead of taking advantage of it, they'll cherish it. Guard you close to their heart like a jealous little secret." Her smile was tentative, "that's what I would do, anyway."
Arthur cursed under his breath, shoving his thigh gracelessly between her legs. "Irene." He said her name and it was an oath, a prayer. Whether for himself or for her, she couldn't say.
"Yes, Arthur?" Irene replied softly.
"If you hear about me in the future, if…" he hesitated, clearing his throat as he drew his index finger studiously down the side of her face. "If somethin' happens, don't pay it any mind, alright? Remember me just like this. All gussied up in this frippery, lookin' like the world's most uncomfortable trained bear." He tried to laugh, but it sounded hollow. "Can you do that for me? Please?"
"As long as you remember me like I was in the wilds." Irene was pleased when he smiled. "All filthy, with twigs in my hair."
"The Irene of my dreams has always been the one from the wilderness." Arthur confessed quietly. "This is lovely, don't get me wrong." He continued, giving her skirts a playful tweak. "But you out in the forests, playin' your violin for the wolves an' howlin' at the moon...that's the Irene I think about." The man cleared his throat again after a moment, looking away. "Now, let's get you put to rights. Buttoned up and all that. I figure it'll be best if I go back first. Hopefully folk won't be too suspicious. Shit, I don't even know how long we been gone for." He swore, grumbling a little as he struggled to help her with the tiny buttons on her dress.
Irene giggled, feeling a bit hysterical. "Oh heavens, what they will think of me! My husband hardly cold in the ground and now I'm enjoying an absolutely scandalous rendezvous with a handsome stranger. I'll be the talk of Saint Denis for weeks!"
"Woman, if you don't quit your funnin'..." Arthur huffed, a wry grin pulling at his mouth seemingly in spite of himself.
Irene rubbed her forehead against his own, smiling a bit wistfully. "Shall I ever see you again, Mister Arthur?"
"For your sake, I sure as hell hope not." Arthur replied bluntly. "Bad luck seems to follow the folks I hang around with."
…
He hadn't entirely lied. He did leave ahead of her. However, he didn't return to the party immediately.
Instead, Arthur ducked into the study he had seen that butler enter when he and Irene were making their way up the stairs. A few minutes of pointed rummaging and a jimmied lock on the desk drawer later, Arthur Morgan (or rather, Tacitus Killgore) was the proud owner of various interesting, incriminating documentation. Leviticus Cornwall. Arthur barely resisted the urge to spit on command when he so much as thought the man's name.
Footsteps passed by the door and he froze, pressing himself back against the bookcases until whoever it was had descended down the stairs.
Hopefully, this information would please Dutch to the point where he would forget about Widow Carson. Arthur just wished that he could forget about Widow Carson. Irene.
Maybe...maybe if she was still in the drawing room, he could explain. Maybe there was still time. It would be dangerous, of course, but she deserved the truth. She deserved to know why he couldn't promise her anything aside from a life of fear and misery. Shit, at the very least she deserved to know why he was cutting her loose!
Arthur left the study and retraced his steps to the drawing room, his heart in his throat and her name on the tip of his tongue. Irene--
But she was gone.
The chaise was vacant, lonely in the cluttered room. Through the open French doors to the balcony, the sounds of the party below filtered in like something from another world. He stalled in the doorway for a moment, uncertain of what to do. An object on the floor by the chaise caught his attention and Arthur stepped forward.
It was one of the vanilla flowers from her hair, the blossom sitting forlorn and abandoned next to the leg of the chaise. He scooped it up with all the care someone like him could muster, tenderly examining the fragile, bruised petals. Then, Arthur slipped it into the pocket of his suit coat.
Much, much later that evening (technically the next damn morning), when he was bedding down at Shady Belle, he delicately extracted the worn flower and proceeded to tuck it between two blank pages of his journal.
Irene, he wrote at the very bottom of the page, and then, in another life, if I was a better man, we could have been so happy together. Instead, I have to push you away to keep you -safe-.
What a fool I am.
The following page bore a loose, flowing sketch of her on the chaise, staring up at him while she clutched the front of her gown closed at her chest. The fierce look on her face that he had tried valiantly to capture on paper didn't hold a candle to the real thing. Irene Craft, he wrote, then scribbled out her name and instead put, -Politicians and the elite are of no use to me, Arthur, for I am of no use to them.-
Mayor Onry Lemieux's party.
Winter’s Cold: Part One
#arthur morgan#rdr2 fanfic#rdr2 spoilers#arthur morgan x original female character#high honor arthur#rdr2 community#red dead redemption 2#rdr2 arthur#rdr2 fandom#big yeehell hours#arthur morgan imagine
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the use of puppetry in the grinning man
tagging: @inmydreamsofthepast i hope u like this lindsay!! lmao it really did get super long
Notes: Spoilers are ahead, so be aware. Also please note that I’m going off of what happens in the Bristol run because i have literally not a single clue what happens in the London production lmao.
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So, the use of puppetry is obviously huge in the show, but it’s also interesting how it’s used specifically in the case of Grinpayne’s past and character, and to some extent, Ursus’.
Looking at it strictly, from an overall show point of view, it’s probably one of the most efficient, interesting ways to tell the story of Grinpayne’s past. Telling stories about things that happened in the past can be difficult in theatre because the audience is interested in seeing action, and while the whole show isn’t just about what happened in the past, it’s what I’d consider the main plot thread of the show.
So they use puppetry! Brilliant. Puppetry is a super underrated design element in theatre, primarily because of its association with children’s entertainment (whether good or bad). And the puppets are brilliantly designed by Gyre & Gimble, who create extremely high quality puppets. It’s also interesting to note that almost all the puppets in the show are meant to actually look like puppets, except for Mojo, who is more realistically designed, as he’s a character both within the show and the show-within-a-show.
The puppetry is key in the show because it serves as an indication of Grinpayne’s disconnect to his past and as a framing device for the unfolding of the plot, to tell the story that takes place in Grinpayne’s past, differentiating itself from the story of his present.
In the first puppet show, we are first introduced to almost the entirety of Grinpayne’s past, but it’s also actually fairly incomplete. And while it’s a pretty fucking bleak story, it’s still softened and even somewhat romanticized. Grinpayne can’t even remember his past, and therefore doesn’t actually know anything about it other than what Ursus has told him. And at this point, Ursus hasn’t told him about some pretty major parts of the story: that he knows how Grinpayne was disfigured, and also of his own involvement in the whole thing. (And while it’s implied that he doesn’t know about Grinpaynes’s parents or their situation, that’s also a piece missing from this retelling. So it’s not only a show-within-a-show, but the puppet show also indicates this idea of falsehood or incomplete truth. And when Ursus urges his Grinpayne and Dea in Stars In The Sky to “bury their pain”, it’s a sentiment that we want to agree with as an audience, because he links it to starting life again and a world of dreams.
In the second puppet show, Barkilphedro uses puppets in his retelling of what happened, which reveals the truth of who Grinpayne’s parents were, that he was the one who disfigured Grinpayne’s face, and that Ursus was involved in some sort of capacity. In the beginning of his retelling, he uses puppets to represent the Trelaws and King Clarence, but then the story switches to a “live action” retelling, and the actors who play Lord and Lady Trelaw appear, followed by the puppet of Grinpayne.
Now, this can be interpreted a multitude of ways. Grinpayne is not physically present to hear this retelling, and he appears in the present day storyline while Lord and Lady Trelaw (although their actors appear as different characters) do not. so while Louis Maskell is still there operating the puppet, we understand that the puppet is the “main” Grinpayne of the scene. Secondly, the puppet is very clearly a depiction of a child, which makes the imagery of the scene effective, as it makes it all the more horrifying to see a child have a noose put on them, then freed only to be trapped and about to be horribly and violently disfigured by a scythe and being told that it’s a “kindness”. Thirdly, to go back to the first point of this paragraph, since Grinpayne is not physically there to learn about this, it makes sense to use a puppet since he still doesn’t know. We, as an audience, know through the use of dramatic irony, but even we won’t know until the very end—the third flashback to the past—the full truth of exactly what happened. It’s still not the full story of Grinpayne’s past, and Ursus’ full involvement still isn’t known to us.
The third time that we flashback to Grinpayne’s past is after his duel with David, and after he learns the truth about the crimson lethe and starts to remember. This is the first time that his past is depicted with the real, living, adult Grinpayne present as the center of the story, and it’s of the actual moments right before and during when he’s disfigured by Barkilphedro. The actual moment of violence that has driven his whole life, the complete and utter truth of it, only takes place when there is no other, false version of him onstage. It only happens when he remembers that Ursus, the man who has been a father to him for almost all of his life, is the one who held him down as he was painfully mutilated.
It’s not a coincidence that within the next few songs, Ursus reprises Stars In The Sky, but this time, the lyrics still urge Grinpayne and Dea to follow their dreams, but he instead tells them “remember your pain as you start life again” reinforcing what Dea has been saying for the duration of the show - to not shrink away from the past and to “use what’s real to build your dreams”.
#the grinning man#inmydreamsofthepast#maryloohoo#grinpayne tgm#ursus tgm#claire.txt#tgm meta#c: gwynplaine#c: ursus
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Why shadows follow you, but roam in the dark.
(This is part one on this fic, I have more coming soon so just sit tight.)
Black, soulless voids stared back. Each edge of his smile carved back farther than humanly possible. White bone from his jaw glinted in the light. His jaw slack and his neck in a horribly mangled position as he hung from the vines of the cavern. Frost patched all over his now pale face. A gold necklace proved as a noose.
Fives was glad that he didn’t eat his rations. Rex stood next to him too still. They’ve never seen a death quite like this. Rex almost looked green as he looked over the newer, now dead member of their legion.
He’d been dead for a while, the smell of decay was heavy and had made many of the vod leave quickly to find a place to lose their lunches.
Fives almost wished he hadn’t let the trooper explore. He’d been missing little over a week now. And here he was, cold, dead, and mangled. This was why they couldn’t get attached to much.
A hand brushed against his. Echo had finally come back with Skywalker and the rest of the team. He had his helmet on, but Fives knew he had the same look on his face. Pity.
“General Skywalker and I found him on our first round. We still have no clue how he was killed out here.”
Rex looked away from the dead trooper and sighed, his hand resting shakily on his blaster holder.
“Just be on high alert. He wasn’t killed by a separatist.”
“That’s for damned sure.” Fives muttered under his breath. A sour metallic taste on his tongue from biting his cheek to hard.
Leaving the body they made their way further into the cavern. An eerie feeling of being watched settling down upon them. Every man had their blasters on kill.
Rex hung back with the Arc troopers to cover the company's tail. Though he was actually worried about Fives. He’d looked like he’d seen his own ghost back there. Not much scared Fives, but that, that had petrified him to stone.
He was the one to find the body, he had the blood on his armor to prove it. Fives had been completely silent since.
Rex put his hand on his friend's shoulder and looked at him questioningly. He’d taken his helmet off when it became too hot for him. Fives had refused to take his off. Kix wasn’t too happy about it.
“Brother, I know what you saw back there was terrifying. But we need to focus on the mission, then we can go back to the barracks and talk about this.” Five just shrugged his hand off and growled.
“You don’t know what I saw. You only were there for the beginning of this shit show.”
“The beginning? Fives what the kriff have you gone mad?” Silence only answered Rex before FIves picked up his pace to walk up front. Echo and Jesse watched with worried looks.
“I think he’s just gone crazy.”
Echo glared at Jesse. If looks could kill Jesse would be dust.
“My brother isn’t crazy. None of us are. He’s just-”
He was cut off by a scream echoing throughout the walls of the cavern. Fives stepped in front of Skywalker looking like he was protecting him and his brothers. He flips his recon tag down. Scanning the cave in front of them.
Jesse made an disapproving sound that made Echo want to kill him more. His twin wasn’t crazy.
The echoed laughter started. Many of the troopers charged their weapons. Anakin ignited his saber. He free hand pulling Fives back.
Another laugh rang from behind them. Rex and Echo flip down their tags to look for any heat signatures. Finding something terrifying instead.
The body from earlier was standing in front of them. His neck hanging at an odd angle, he looked like a puppet. His eye sockets wide and his mouth smiling a deadly toothy grin. Echo was the first to be grabbed, his blaster dropped and went off lighting up the dark cave. Several dead and decaying puppets clung to the rock walls. Rex grabbed hold of Echo’s wrist, the poor man screamed in pain as the decayed monster pulled him back with almost inhuman strength.
“ECHO!” Fives yelled while helping Rex pull him back.
Another one of those monsters joined the other by pouncing on Echo’s back, knocking off his helmet on impact. Echo had wide terrified eyes. The creature on his back reached around and scratched his face, cutting deep. Blood dripped down his cheek.
“FIVES!” Echo whimpered, a third creature pulling him out of their grips. Both troopers tried to reach for his hand again but the creatures were too quick. He screamed for them as they dragged him into the shadows.
#fives and echo#arc trooper fives#arc trooper echo#arc trooper jesse#medic kix#anakin skywalker#clone trooper denal#acer and scorch are my ocs#puppet monster#zombie#gore#blood#vivid#star wars#star wars the clone wars#captain rex
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The Soldier and the Assistant Ch. 4
Click here for chapter three!
Summary; You run into a mysterious stranger on the street while running late for work and spill coffee all over yourself in the process. Later, you find out the man was none other than James Buchanan Barnes and your company is about to write a story about him. The thing is, he’ll only talk to you. As you get to know one another, you both start realizing this relationship is a little more than work. Will both of you let the romance bloom? Or kill it before it starts?
A/N; Bucky and Steve crack me up and I never get enough of their bullshit. Amen.
Warnings; Language.
Tags; @farfromjustordinary @ria132love @karlilarki
Words; 2,595
Chapter Four
Change of Plans
*Bucky’s POV*
“What the fuck would you have me do, Steve? I wasn’t going to let her cry alone in her apartment, still terrified.” I justify my reasons for bringing you here as you sleep soundlessly on the couch. Steve rolls his eyes and rubs his temple.
“For the last time, I’m not upset you brought her here. Just surprised. Stop trying to convince yourself you need a reason to feel like protecting her, jackass.” Steve snaps back, an entertained smirk on his face. After sighing, I remain silent as we stand across from your sleeping form. I’d brought you up and in Steve and I’s apartment and sat us both on the couch. You’d told me the whole story in a calm, distant voice then proceeded to realize you’d left the coffee I got you at work. Honestly, you seemed more upset about that than about Jim, but that’s most likely the shock. Afterwards, you calmed down and fell slowly asleep in my arms. Steve finally got here and that’s when I laid you down and told him what happened. Now, the both of us are just standing across the room from you lying on our lumpy tan couch. Steve’s hands are in his pockets, most likely missing the perch his suit’s belt usually provides, while my arms are crossed across my chest.
“I’m not sure what to do.” I admit uneasily. “She can’t go back there and work for that asshole again.” That’s one thing that absolutely cannot happen. Steve nods along with my words.
“Agreed, but her future is up to her. We don’t know if she’ll want to press charges or just quit and be done with everything.” Steve says, ever the reason to my insanity. I frown at the thought of Jim walking free and briefly think of holding a gun to his head, but dismiss the thought. I’m in enough trouble and I’d rather not get Steve blamed for anything else, or you. “I’ll call Natasha. See what she can find on this Jim guy. Maybe there are other people willing to speak up. I doubt this is the first time it’s happened.” Steve claps a hand on my shoulder and I nod at him once before he heads to his room to make the call. My place is in here, watching over you. Suddenly, your legs crumple into your body and you frown. As quietly as I can, I walk over and grab the blue blanket off the back of the couch, laying it over your body and tucking it under your feet. The frown disappears and I find myself smiling down at you. That’s when I decide that if you don’t wake up I’m not taking you home. Sleep is a precious peace and I refuse to disturb yours after a day like today. Carefully, I reach down and brush my lips across your forehead.
“What are you doing to me?” I question you and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Almost imperceptibly, you smile.
*Reader’s POV*
Waking up is fucking hell most days, but today especially. My eyes are still covered in makeup and now are crusty from sleep and tears. My mouth tastes weird and dry from the lack of, well, any drinks yesterday and my body is still cramped inside my pencil dress. I wipe the crust out of my eyes without a care to what I look like; I’m sure I already look like shit. Finally, I break the film and open my eyes to reveal an unfamiliar bedroom. Looking down, I see navy sheets and comforter covering me in a pale-yellow room. Some paint is chipping off the walls, but everything else in the room is pristine. The bed is in the center and is flanked by two small, white tables. Straight across is a honey-colored dresser and on the wall to my left is the doorway to a bathroom in the corner, another door on the wall that meets it. Symmetry. The setup is definitely a soldier’s room, but the accents are not. It isn’t hard to guess that this is Bucky’s room, especially since I can smell him in here. Bar soap, spice, and something bitter like gasoline or oil.
There are pictures placed on the dresser and both bedside tables. Mostly of Bucky and Steve, but a couple of just places. Drowsily, I climb out of bed and wander around to get a better look at the pictures. All are black and white with the exception of one, but I love seeing Bucky in uniform. The one on his right nightstand, most likely closest to him when he falls asleep, is a colored picture in a white frame. He was clearly coerced into frame, judging by how he’s angled and Steve’s arm drawing him in by the neck like a noose. They’re both grinning even though Bucky is in the middle of an eyeroll and it makes me smile. Straightening up from my crouching position, I glance at the walls of the room. What I love most is that most of the walls are covered in drawings and writing. Carefully, I let my fingers trace the fine script on one of the thin pieces of paper. I’d have never guessed Bucky’s handwriting to be so fine. Feeling a little more awake, I head to the bathroom and find a little pile of clothes with a note.
“For you. Figured being in these would be more comfortable than a dress. Soap’s in the shower and you’re more than welcome to it. Bucky.” I read the words aloud, feeling the soft fabric of his sweatshirt and sweatpants under the paper. “Sweet.” I murmur and glance up at the mirror, nearly shouting when I see how bad I look. My hair is a mess, my makeup is slathered over my face, and my dress is askew. Immediately, I shut the bathroom door and strip. I let the water be freezing to wake me up and do my best to get all the stuff off my face. After giggling a little at Bucky’s old spice shower stuff, I use a little and rinse fast. I’m in and out in less than ten minutes, then walk out in fifteen wearing Bucky’s big clothes.
The note he left me is folded up in my dress that I take out with me. I open the door and wince a little at the bright light. Bucky keeps his own room dark. Then, the smells and sounds start hitting me. Bacon overpowers everything else and I can hear it sizzling. My eyes find the source of the sound to my right, in a small kitchen. Bucky stands there in sweatpants and a loose T, poking the bacon with a fork in his right hand. There’s no Steve in sight, but it may be too early for him. I have no clue what time it is. All of a sudden, I feel extremely embarrassed. One bad day and you call a stranger to pick you up, spend the night at his place, and sleep in his bed. God. Even so, I set my dress beside my purse at the door and walk over to Bucky.
“Morning.” I bid him quietly, my voice still a little croaky from sleep. Bucky’s head snaps up at the sound of my voice and he turns to look at me with a comforting smile on his face.
“Afternoon.” He corrects and points at the clock on the oven. My eyes shut as I sigh, a headache already on it’s way. “Here.” I open my eyes to find Bucky gesturing to a small breakfast table for two. Smiling thankfully, I sit down where he tells me.
“Uh, so listen, I’m really sorry about all this.” I tell him sheepishly as he returns with Motrin and coffee. “Thank you. Anyways, I’m really thankful for everything you’ve done for me, when you really don’t know me and others would’ve just kicked me out.” I continue as he now brings me eggs and bacon on a plate with a fork. “Are you listening to me?”
“Yes, I’m listening. You’re just being ridiculous. I’m not going to throw a crying girl out on her ass, no matter who she is. What would the reporters say?” He teases and the discomfort in my chest evaporates.
“You know what, I really don’t feel bad anymore.” I quip and he smiles lopsidedly. “Thank you for breakfast and coffee, you’ll make a fine husband one day.” I tease right back as I fold my legs under me, getting comfortable. His eyebrows shoot up as he sits across from me with the same breakfast, but he says nothing about my comment.
“You’re welcome.” He responds softly as I take my meds with my coffee. The taste is perfect, somehow, and breakfast is delicious. “Now, it may be too early for you to talk about this, but I wanted to ask you what you’re planning to do. About Jim.” Bucky asks and his voice is careful, not knowing my mind on the subject yet. My eyes shut a moment and I pause to collect my thoughts.
“Ugh, right. Well, obviously I’m going to press charges against the son of a bitch, come what may. I’m out of a job pretty much either way. Especially since I’m not going in today and there’s no way I’m calling.” I explain my plans, then look back up at Bucky. Those blue eyes are striking and shining with pride as he looks at me. The look cements the plan even more in my mind; if he’s looking at me like that, then I must’ve made the right choice.
“Sounds good to me.” He agrees and I can’t help but smile at his handsome face. “Hopefully you won’t mind, but you actually won’t have to do that. Steve’s already taken care of it.” Bucky reveals and starts eating his breakfast as I stop in shock.
“What? How?” I ask instantly, flabbergasted.
“Well, Steve called Natasha to dig up what she could on Jim. He could’ve had his own cemetery with the amount of skeletons in his closet. Natasha rallied them and was there when Jim was arrested.” Bucky allows a chuckle to slip from his pretty lips. “She was ecstatic at the opportunity.” He tells me and my mind reels with the addition of such new information.
“So…he’s gone? That’s it?” I ask him, still trying to wrap my mind around it. Bucky nods, his face quizzical at my not understanding.
“Yes. He’ll be in prison before the year’s end if Natasha gets her way, which, she always does.” He reports, eyes scanning me for what I’m thinking. After a few moments of silence, he gets up and kneels beside me. “It’s over, doll. I…apologize if this isn’t the way you wanted it done, but the bastard didn’t deserve to breathe any more free air.” He tells me, those eyes burning into mine as always. I shake my head, reaching out and messing up his hair lightheartedly. His grins, although it is a lonely grin.
“No, I’m not upset. I’m only surprised.” I tell him sincerely, then smirk. “You’re ruining your reputation for being bitter, Bucky.” His grin reappears as I tease him, and we both stay there for a moment. With our eyes connected and my hand still in his hair, the air around us seems to charge with heat and electricity.
“And whose fault is that?” He whispers gruffly and I see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. My hand falls from his hair to his jaw and I smile slightly when I rub my thumb over his scruffy cheek.
“You know, you look lonely sometimes. When you smile.” I tell him in a sadder tone, letting my hand drop to my lap. “When you allow yourself to smile.” I continue.
“Do I?” Bucky asks and fleetingly I think his ankles must hurt from crouching for so long.
“Yes.” I tell him simply, my eyes fluttering from his eyes to his lips, then back again.
“I don’t feel lonely when you’re around, doll.” Shock courses through me, but he doesn’t give me a chance to respond. “Damn. I sound like an idiot.” He mumbles and stands. I catch his hand before he walks away and he looks back at me, his eyes swimming in vulnerability.
“I already know you’re an idiot.” I tease and get a laugh out of him, then a happier smile.
“You’re still a smartass. Eat your breakfast.” He tells me and takes his own plate away, rinsing it and putting it in the dishwasher while I finish my food in silence. Once I’m done I follow his lead, which coerces another smile from his lips. “How about this, you think I’m lonely, so why not spend the day with me?” He asks and I notice he seems to force the words from his mouth, or perhaps they were so eager he couldn’t hold them in anymore. Either way, they bring an amused smile to my face.
“You make it sound like a chore, Bucky.” I tell him honestly before continuing, “of course I wouldn’t mind. Do you have any plans?” At that, a mischevious smile overtakes Bucky’s face.
“Yes, actually. I do. I want you to write that article.” Bucky says firmly, steel and determination written all over his face. My eyes widen at the prospect.
“Bucky, you’re aware that I don’t have my own private printing press, right?” I ask, gesticulating dangerously with my fork still in my hand. Bucky leans over, takes the fork, puts it in the dishwasher, then nods.
“Yes, thank you. I want you to write it anyways. Think about it.” He tells me as I heave myself up on the counter while he washes dishes. The corner of his mouth twitches at the action. “What paper, magazine, whatever, isn’t going to hire the author of that article? An article about the world’s most wanted assassin?” He continues dryly and I snort.
“Right, the fluffy assassin that just made me breakfast and let me stay at his place.” I find it more important to address what he thinks of himself first, instead of his offer. Bucky smirks and shrugs.
“Maybe don’t include that.” He suggests and I nod with a silly grin. “But, what do you think of writing the article?” Bucky stays on course, drying his hands on his shirt. I tap a nail on the counter while I consider him and his kind offer.
“Why? Why are you doing this?” I ask seriously, losing the levity for a moment. Bucky sighs and runs his hands through his hair while he thinks.
“I like you. You’re different and seem like you deserve a chance. You certainly deserve a hell of a lot more than the treatment you’ve had so far.” He growls and I hop off my perch and stand a little less than a foot in front of him. The irony of is words aren’t lost on me, but I choose not to point it out.
“That isn’t an answer, Bucky Barnes.” I remind him and he rolls his eyes. “But anyways, I like you too. I’d be happy to do the article.” I relent and pat his arm, then head to my purse. After grabbing my notebook and pencil, I sit back down at the breakfast table. “Ready?” Sighing in resignation, Bucky comes over and sets a cup of coffee down in front of me.
“Born ready.”
#bucky#buck#bucky barnes#James Buchanan#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#james barnes#james buck barnes#marvel#marvel fic#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#bucky fic#bucky fanfic#bucky fanfiction#winter soldier#white wolf#romance#sweet#cute#bucky x reader#reporter#soldier and the assistant#soldier and the assistant chapter four
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IMMORAL PROFITS: Why Are Big Corporations Still Allowed To Profit From Rape Videos?
This article isn't about ethical pornography, it's about rape and sexual abuse and big corporations that are allowed to profit from human misery A Canadian student says: 'I've not problem with consensual adults making porn. Who cares?' but the problem is that many people in pornographic videos, especially those on user submitted content generated video tubesites. Just after she turned 14, a man had enticed Jane* to engage in sexual play over Skype, and he recorded her, and posted a clip, along with her full name, on XVideos, one of the worlds most-visited pornography tubesites. Google searches helped direct people to this illegal footage of child sexual abuse. Jane had recounted how she begged XVideos to remove the clip, but instead, said the website hosted two more copies, so hundreds of thousands of people could leer at this most mortifying moment of her life, preserved forever as if set in amber. That happens all over the world: Women and girls, men and boys, are sexually assaulted or secretly filmed, and then a video is posted on major websites like XVideos that draws traffic through search engines, while the initial video assault may be brief, the attack on dignity becomes indeterminable. 'The shame I felt was embarrassing,' Jane had said. Mr Kristof wrote in December about Pornhub, a Montreal-based website that pioneered access to free porn uploaded by anyone - so called tubesites that are like YouTube but orientated to the adult market and selling nudity and sex. Since the article was written and published, credit card companies have stopped working with the tubesite, and the site has removed more than nine million videos in response, with the Canadian and US Governments cracking down on the company's practices. However this isn't isolated to one company. It was noted at the time, that exploitation is rooted not in a single company, but in an industry that operates with some impunity and punishing one corporation may simply benefit it's rivals, after all, remove a brick, it makes a building unstable, knock enough bricks, the wall comes tumbling down. That's what is happening here because when Pornhub deleted videos, millions of outraged customers flooded to it's nemesis, XVideos, which has even fewer scruples. A veteran European Pornographer called Pierre Woodman, said that while Pornhub has been damaged financially, XVideos see Mr Kristof as a 'Santa Claus In Newsprint'. That's not a comfortable feeling and it doesn't sit right, and we need to knock more bricks out of the wall, rein in the entire rogue industry, and for now, the behemoth that is XVideos, bolstered by Google, and other search engines. 'We are the biggest adult tube in the industry, with an average of two billion daily impressions worldwide,' boats XVideos, which SimilarWeb ranks as the seventh-most-visited website in the World. Two slots behind is a sister website with almost exactly the same content, XNXX.com, and each get more visitors than Yahoo, Amazon or Netflix. XVideos and XNXX appear to be owned by mysterious French Twins and based in a nondescript office building in Prague not far from Wenceslas Square. This building is the hub of a porn empire that gets six billion impressions a day and inflicts anguish all over the world, and raises an important question - Why do they get away with this? Heather Legarde, a young woman in Alberta, felt the world crashing down on her last August, when she had discovered that her ex-husband had posted intimate videos of her online, and she said that people around the world were gazing at her naked body. 'I'm all over the internet,' she said sadly; 'Not what I wanted to be famous for.' What's worse, in one video her former husband sexually assaulted her as she lay unconscious on the bed, which Legarde had no recollection of the assault and no idea how the video was made, apart from a clue in the tag: 'Sleeping Pills.' Some 200,000 people had watched her being assaulted while she was drugged and unconscious, so on that day in August, mortified and dizzied by the betrayal, Legarde prepared to tie a noose. 'I was standing in my garage under a beam, holding a rope,' she recalled. But finally, she changed her mind: 'I said to myself, "If this is your solution, he'll do this to someone else tomorrow".' So Legarde resolved to own her story and fight back: 'So it doesn't have to happen to other girls.' That's why she agreed to be quoted by name in the Times column, but her path through the life is now paved with daily humiliations, she regularly finds herself searching for her naked videos and begs websites, sometimes successfully, to remove the ones she finds. 'How do you get your head around 200,000 guys masturbating as you're being assaulted?' she mused. A great majority of videos on XVideos and other tubesites are not of children or of unconscious women, most of the bodies are writing by choice. But it's easy to find videos where the posting or the activity wasn't consensual. A major study published by the British Journal of Criminology this year found that one in eight videos on three major tubesites - XVideos, Pornhub and XHamster - depicted sexual violence or nonconsensual conduct. Some show intoxicated or unconscious women or girls being raped, while others are from spy cams in locker rooms or breach changing rooms and show unsuspecting women or girls, (and, less often, men and boys), undressing or showering. Racist epithets and humiliation are on display; as are misogynistic videos of supposed feminists being degraded and tortured, and many of the videos depict rapists, real or fake, forcing sex on children or adults who are trying to fight back. One on XVideos was captioned with a girl's protest: 'This is not right, Daddy, stop, please.' XVideos guides viewers to videos that purport to show children: Search for 'young,' and it helpfully suggests also searching for 'tiny,' 'girl,' 'boy,' 'juvencita,' and 'youth porn.' Many of those on the screen will be young-looking adults, but some will be minors whose lives have been badly damaged. 'I think about suicide,' a Thai girl called Jenny* said, and she explained that when she was in eighth grade, a man reached out to her on Facebook and suggested that she could make money form modelling, and he advised her to send videos of herself, including naked videos to give a sense of her body; these would be kept strictly confidential, she was assured. Jenny sent him the videos, but she was never paid as promised, and said she forgot about the whole episode - until a friend had alerted her that her naked videos were on XVideos, Pornhub and at least one other site. 'I just wanted to die,' Jenny said: 'I didn't want my parents to know.' Jenny is smart and well educated, and is a beautiful singer, and she had hoped to become a music star in Thailand: 'I don't think that's possible now,' she stated: 'My dreams are going to end because I have naked pictures on the internet.' The Hug Project, a nonprofit in Thailand that works with trafficking victims, got XVideos to remove Jenny's videos, but Jenny quit school because she couldn't handle the humiliation and every day she gets messages from strange men, sometimes with photos of their genitals. Jenny is furious with herself for sending the videos: 'I had the potential to do something great, but now I can't,' she said. She agreed to be quoted, despite her shame, because she wanted other kids to understand that in the internet age, some mistakes are forever. The abusers aren't limited to obscure pornographic websites either. Twitter, Facebook, Reddit and other sites are all sprinkled with child sexual abuse imagery. One woman, Adrianna*, from Illinois, had been trafficked, and her pimp had posted naked video clips of her that had been sitting on Twitter for six years; she said Twitter had ignored her pleas to remove them. When asked to have them removed after the fact by a prominent Times writer though, and they were removed within hours. Not everyone has the opportunity to rely on Newspaper columnists to aid them though in order to get nonconsensual nudity removed, and it's not a scalable solution either. Meanwhile a web search of Adrianna were still on XVideos, despite her efforts to have them removed, and they had collectively been viewed more than 100,000 times. 'The trafficking was one thing,' Adrianna had said: 'But I feel I'm being exploited all over again.' Google is a pillar of the sleazy ecosystem, for roughly half the traffic reaching XVideos and XNXX appears to come from Google searches: 'The porn tube sites are obsessed with their Google rankings because Google is their lifeline,' said Laila Mickelwait, the president of the Justice Defense Fund, which fights against online sexual exploitation. 'Google is the primary means by which they drive traffic to their sites.' A recent search with the words 'rape unconscious girl' using Google's video tab directed people to scores of videos celebrating just that, including one in which a woman first appears to be strangled to death (presumably acting) and then her 'corpse' was violated. A google search subsequently done for 'Schoolgirl Sex' turned up video results of teenagers having sex of all kinds (on a bus, with a 'stepbrother,' etc.) on XVideos and XNXX, with most of the people in the videos possibly over 18, but no way to be verifiably sure. The Times reached out to Google to help them understand its reasons for complicity with companies that monetize from child sexual abuse, but there were no satisfactory responses. Google has it's limits though, and when the Times reporter tried to search 'How do I poison my husband,' the results were literacy or humorous, not how-to instructions. The top responses to 'How Do I Commit Suicide' were for a suicide hotline. So Goole can demonstrate responsibility, it can demonstrate and remove toxic moral materials, so why not rape videos? XVideos and XNXX appear to be owned by the twins Stéphane and Malorie Deborah Pacaud (sometimes rendered as Deborah Malorie Pacaud). The Pacauds, 42, avoid the media and didn't respond to any inquiries, but others in the industry said that Stéphane Pacaud began the business in about 2001 by copying images from pornographic magazines and putting them on a simple website that became XNXX. Fabian Thylmann, who helped build what became the Pornhub empire before selling it, described Stéphane Pacaud as a loaner who devoted himself to his websites and other solitary pursuits. 'Even when in Vegas for conventions, he was often just in his hotel room working,' Thylmann said in 2012, and when he offered to buy XVideos for $120 million, but Pacaud cut off the discussion and said he had to get back to playing a video game. 'I'm too busy,' Pacaud had said, as Thylmann remembers the conversation: 'I've no time to discuss this now. I'm playing Diablo II.' The Pacauds' empire became WGCZ Holdings, a company that appears to have been recently renamed to WebGroup Czech Republic. It controls at least 60 companies worldwide, including some in the United States. Many of us were inspired by Czechoslovakia's Velvet Revolution in 1989: Is it too much to ask that the heirs of that revolution not inflict rape videos on the World? The Czech police and prosecutors say that they are investigating XVideos and tis affiliated sites, and the Czech press is publishing exposés about WebGroup's practices. Under pressure, XVideos has removed some paedophile search terms over the past few months, but the clean-up doesn't go that far, with a search for 'twelve' on XVideos suggesting 'related searches' of 'training bra,' '7th grader,' and 'elementary,' according to the Times. So what can be done and how can it be done, how long will it take, and will it be effective? A starting point is going to be to recognize that the issue is not pornography or the pornography industry at all. The issue is about child exploitation, and how we can be sex positive, and exploitation negative. It's a fair objection that cracking down on illegal pornography is sometimes a game of whack-a-mike, but while oversight won't eliminate problems of the internet, it can vastly help reduce them. Copyright protection is a priority for U.S. Government, so mainstream porn companies mostly have learned not to steal content; when they do, they get sued and lose. If the United States and other Group of 7 Countries cared as much about abused children as about video piracy, maybe it can make XVideos equally vigilant about rape videos. While there are no simple solutions, there are three steps that could help. First, PayPal and Credit Card Companies should stop working with ALL companies that promote illegal videos and not just single out Pornhub. PayPal in particular props up XVideos because it used to pay for ads, Mastercard took the important step of announcing that porn websites can only carry on accepting payments if they verify age and consent of each person in sex videos; other card companies could follow suit, and should follow suit. Second, search engines should stop leading people to rape videos and stop directing people from the likes of Google, Bing and Yahoo to websites with a long record of distributing them. Third, we should create accountability in criminal and civil law, for that's the best way to incentivize companies to clean up their act. In March a girl who was trafficked at 14 and forced to appear in sexual videos filed a lawsuit against XVideos, but such a suit faces difficulties under Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act. Bipartisan legislation before the House and the Senate would make these suits easier to pursue, which could be a gamechanger by harnessing capitalism to induce better corporate behaviour. 'There's always some enterprising lawyer waiting to pounce,' said Marc Randazza, a lawyer who has represented XVideos and also victims of nonconsensual porn: 'If you put civil remedies in, you would have a platoon of lawyers fighting to help you if you were a victim of nonconsensual porn.' Facing this privatized accountability, companies like XVideos would themselves rush to remove nonconsensual imagery, and we would have aligned the interests of porn king pins and their 14-year-old victims. Some worry that a crackdown would financially harm sex workers who sell videos of themselves, but these three steps would not kill that porn industry, or the porn industry in general. People in the adult content industry say that companies like XVideos have a perfectly good business model with just consensual adult content. Without accountability, corporations are tempted to avert their eyes, the most exploitative companies profit the most, and this creates a race to the bottom. The cost is borne by the unsuspecting children and adults who often didn't know their content is there in the first place. A 16-year-old girl in Perth, Australia, a good student and popular in school, took a naked photo of herself while standing in front of a bathroom mirror, and she sent it via Snapchat, so that it would automatically disappear in seconds, to her 17-year-old boyfriend, with the words: 'I love you. I trust you.' The boyfriend took a screenshot before it disappeared and shared it with five of his friends who in turn shared it with 47 of their friends, and within a few days, more than 200 people in the school had a copy. Someone uploaded it to a porn site and named the girl and her school; over three months, and with the help of online searches directing people to the site, the photo was downloaded 7,000 times. The family moved to a different city, but students there found the image as well, so the family fled to a different state in Australia. Paul Litherland, a former Australian police officer who worked on the case, said that the photo was posted on porn websites all over the world, and she felt she could never escape. She refused to attend school, and she self-medicated with drugs. Then at the age of 21, she took her own life. These are the stakes in which people are gambling with every day. There is more than financial and monetary gain at stake - lives are at stake! *Names changed to protect identities of victims. Read the full article
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11/19 recs
Haven’t been reading much because hiatus from fandom in general, but here’s what I have read since I went on hiatus.
- Generally everything that came out from this Shifty Skater Fic Exchange was quality, didn’t make me want to gouge my eyes out, and very fun.
1. questo calice di vino by damnslippyplanet || 2.7k, Rated T
Yuuri feels like he should remember this. Surely there’s some missing piece that would help him understand how he could possibly have gotten from “drooling over Victor’s forearms” to “boring him senseless with Yuuri’s stupid ideas for his stupid seminar paper about a serial killer who’ll probably get caught before Yuuri even takes the profiling seminar.”
No memory is forthcoming to help him out.
“You found a man like that,” Yurio says, waving a spoon accusingly at Yuuri. “ And you dirty-talked at him for two hours about murder. You have the worst game I have ever seen and you are never going to have sex again.”
“But we love you and it’s fine,” Phichit cuts in. He’s very loyal. Yuuri loves him, when he doesn’t want to stab him.
This is short, and sets up to the promise of a much larger plot, but it’s the first part of a series, so I have really high fucking hopes for it. Characterization is absolutely fucking lovely and I love how the writer cast yoi characters in certain roles. *cries at finally finding a quality hannibal/yoi au*
2. All the Lonely People by Orchids_and_Fictional_Cities || 11.3k, Rated E
Viktor Nikiforov, a young priest from the Moscow Patriarchate, is exiled to a sleepy seaside town in Japan. There, he soon learns that one of her citizens is hiding a terrible secret - and that he is not the only one who has strayed from the Divine.
Mind the tags, this is basically the staple priest/blasphemy fic that every fandom has. The buildup was great, the epistolary bit cleverly used to show insight into Victor’s past, and it was a thrill to read. I was cackling quite a lot through it.
3. Stranger Things by xylophones || 6.7k, Rated T
Viktor laughs. “You’re not, like, a cult leader or something right?” “Um.” Yuuri winces. “N-Not the leader, no.” Viktor stops laughing. (Or: There’s something living underneath the university, something dark and hungry and ancient.)
Honestly everything in this Monster Week 2017 series that the author wrote was novel and super fun to read. I recommend the entire series. This fic in particular had great setup for the various developments, and I found myself rereading it a few times because it was just that enjoyable.
4. Long Time the Manxome Foe He Sought by cryingoverspilledvodka || Rated M, 18.2k
‘You never eat anything.'
‘That's not true,’ Yuuri replies, hearing how defensive he sounds and not being able to stop it. ‘I eat all the time. You know I do.’
—
Yuuri has everything he’s ever wanted. Victor loves him. And Yuuri loves Victor. More than almost anything.
Mind the tags on this one, please. I didn’t particularly love this fic, so to say, because when I read this I empathized with Yuuri a lot and it wasn’t pleasant. Rather, I’d say that I’m in awe of this fic, because the author very effectively portrayed the issues addressed in this fic in a way that made me pause several times to just digest what I’d read. It was hard to get into at first, but eventually I found myself being carried through Yuuri’s struggles and torn between siding with him despite his behavior and those around him. It’s a heavy read, not a light bedtime story.
Highly recommend because the portrayal is just... really good. It’s honestly just really goddamned good.
5. April Ashes by Eupheno || Rated M, 8.3k
A hundred years ago, Yuri's ancestor burned his estate down to its very foundations. It has stood empty ever since—until he and Mila decide to investigate, against all odds, the reason behind the fire. A mysterious diary may provide the clues they need.
But some things are better left forgotten.
Want some horror/creepy things? Read this. It did not go where I was expecting, and I was delighted because of that.
6. actually i'm a catastrophe by slightlied || Rated T, 8.8k
Seunggil thought he knew himself best, but it turns out Phichit Chulanont might know him a little bit better.
In which Phichit helps Seunggil run for student body president, and some promises are made, and some promises are, well, prom.
I’m frankly of the opinion that there’s never enough seungchuchu in this fandom, and this fic gets their dynamic developing in a way that is absolutely delightful to read. Seung-gil’s character is very nicely portrayed in this, and his friendship with JJ and Isabella lovely and hilarious, not to mention the priceless interactions he has with Phichit that build up the fic to a promsitively satisfying ending.
7. Fated by maydei || Rated M, 42.8k (WIP)
One Fighter. One Sacrifice. One unit, one team, bound by a name written on their bodies. It’s a mark that distinguishes them from others, and to each other, for the purpose of engaging in magical combat.
The idea is a noose tied with red thread, but a name cannot be denied. It simply is, and simply will be. Against all alliances and all reason, there is no fighting a name—
—unless you don’t have one.
A Loveless AU.
All I have to say is 1) you don’t need to know what Loveless at all to enjoy this fic, because the author has smoothly integrated any questions you could have about the world into the story and the plot of the fic doesn’t rely heavily on knowledge of the plot of Loveless to understand what’s happening 2) go forth and read it if you haven’t and you enjoy soulmates and magical combat.
8. Saltwater Melodies by LinneaKou || Rated T, 19.4k (WIP)
Mila looked back and forth at both of them, mouth flapping silently. “How?” she finally asked.
“We have no idea,” Viktor said. “Probably magic.”
“Magic is not real,” Chris sputtered.
“Sure looks real to me,” Yuri said.
~
After falling into a magical lagoon during a once-in-a-lifetime eclipse, music students Viktor, Mila, and Yuri find themselves transforming into merfolk whenever they touch water... and considering that they live on the coast, that's probably going to cause some trouble. Things get even weirder when they discover strange powers that may have bigger effects on their daily lives than they could ever imagine.
Add to the mix a thalassophobic pianist, a marine biologist (possibly cryptozoologist) who might actually be completely insane, and a treasure-hunting Canadian... one thing's for sure: their lives sure just got a whole lot more interesting.
Honestly can I just punt all of you over to the author’s page itself, because everything that they’ve written that I’ve read thus far has been solidly enjoyable and I’ve recced a few before. Their strange beasts (Hopeless Wanderer) series is wonderful and perfectly feels-y and if you haven’t read it, get off my blog until you do because it’s just. It’s that damn good.
this fic in particular is fun to read for me because the author really got the setting down. It feels what socal actually feels like, down to the beach life and the dreadfully hipster eateries everywhere. The plot is fun, the characterization is fun, and I’m hopping with excitement for future updates!
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Hollywood Babylon- Part 3
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word Count: 2,506
Warnings: Typical Supernatural violence, language, angst, minor character death, blood, you know the usual
Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. If you’re a junkie for this sort of thing, then a tag list is the right thing for you! If you want to be a Queen, I’ll add you to that list too! Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!
Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.
Tags at the bottom
The next morning, you were in Tara’s chair, watching the scene unfold, Sam out at the morgue since a new person was dead. His name was Brad and from the looks of it, had an important job here. But, Tara found him hanging by the landing, dead as a doornail. All you could do was wait for Sam to get back but you had no idea where Dean was. This movie was honestly really bad and you had no idea where the producers got the money to film this piece of shit but it was being made and you couldn’t do a thing about it.
You watched as the actors said their lines, the fake rumbled of the place to indicate that there were ghosts coming and then Tara, playing her character began talking about salt and how it repels them. Well, they got one thing right.
Suddenly, Tara broke character and asked if they could call cut.
“Um... uh, yeah, cut. Cut!” McG said, getting up.
“That's a cut!” You heard Dean say very loudly. You turned your head, your mouth opening slightly when you saw him with a headset on and eating a taquito. Where the hell did he get a headset? You were about to say something when Tara spoke up and what she said caught your attention.
“I just can't wrap my head around the dialog, you know? Salt? Doesn't that sound silly? I mean, why would a ghost be afraid of salt?” She asked. You smirked lightly but kept your mouth shut, getting up.
You walked over to Dean where you could still hear what Tara and McG were saying.
“Yo, Marty, what do you think?” McG said.
“I’m not married to salt, what do you want? We still sticking with condiments?”
“It just sounds different, not better. What else would a ghost be scared of?” McG asked, thinking. You kept your mouth shut, wanting to hear what they would think of.
“Maybe shotguns?”
“Okay, that makes even less sense than the salt.” McG said, turning back to Tara. You turned to Dean, ignoring Tara now. Sam took that moment to walk over to you. Man, that trip was fast.
“How is it going here?” You asked, noticing the headset on him.
“Great. Tara is getting a little angsty with everything is going on and man, Walter is getting pissed of what’s going on here. Makes you think if he is more involved in this than you think.” Dean said, eating his food.
“Dean, you know when I ask how it's going in here, I'm talking about the case, right? We don't really work here. You know, I thought you hated being a P.A.” You said, looking at him like he was crazy.
“I don’t know, it’s not so bad. I kind of feel like part of the team, you know? Oh, taquito? They’re wonderful.” Dean offered, holding out the plate of food to you and Sam.
“No. Um, listen, I conned my way into the morgue. News reports were right: Brad's a doornail, no question.” Sam said to you and Dean.
“Copy that,” Dean said into his headset. He lowered the mic and looked at Sam. “I’m sorry, what?”
“What the hell are you doing?” You asked Dean.
“Nothing, what did you say?” Dean asked Sam. You huffed out. You loved that Dean was enjoying himself around here but you were here for a case and someone has died while you were here. That isn’t good.
“The news reports were right. Brad’s a doornail…” Sam repeated. He was about to say something else but Dean spoke into his headset again.
“They are aware.”
“Who’s aware?” Sam asked, confused.
“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Dean asked Sam again. You ripped the headset off him and glared at him.
“Dean, would you fucking focus? We have a case to solve.” You said, glaring at him.
“What is your problem?” He asked you, putting the headset back on.
“We have a case to solve and since we’ve been here, a person has died. So, would you listen to Sam?” You were getting fed up with him right now. Dean stared at you a moment longer before shifting his gaze to Sam.
“The newspaper's right: Brad's a doornail, no question about it.” Sam repeated for the third time.
“Then I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t skip town, right sweetheart?” Dean asked, looking at you.
“Look, Dean I am happy that you’re enjoying it here and that you’re having fun. Really, I am, but we didn’t come here to be normal people, okay? We have a job to do and once it’s over, we are leaving.” You said, looking at him.
“Yeah, I know, but let me have this for right now, yeah?” He asked, looking at you. You sighed and didn’t say anything else. You just looked away from him.
“So, did you find anything else while I was gone?” Sam asked.
“Actually, yes. Come here, I want you to listen to something,” Dean said, leading you and Sam over to Dave, the sound tech guy. “Hey, Dave. Can you play them that thing you were playing me earlier?”
“Sure,” Dave said, handing you and Sam a pair of headphones. You put it on and listened what was playing. It was a scene and the actors were talking and everything seemed normal. Suddenly, it started getting scratchy, getting distorted. You looked at Sam and then at Dean who raised his eyebrows.
You took off the headphones when it stopped and smiled at Dave who took them back. You walked away with the brothers to backstage where you could talk more privately.
“That’s EVP.” You said.
“From the night of Brad's stage dive, suddenly, I'm getting electromagnetic readings up the wazoo. For some reason, it's a legit haunting now.” Dean said.
“Then who is the ghost and what does it want?” You asked.
“I don't know. I think we should take a look at Brad's death scene.” Dean said.
“Okay, but how?” You asked.
“Let me take care of that. You two wait for me outside.” He said, leaving. You sighed and looked at Sam, walking outside.
“I don’t get it, Sam. He’s acting brainwashed. It’s like this case doesn’t even matter to him.” You said, looking up at him.
“Maybe he’s solving it from the inside. He seemed to be well liked by everyone in there.”
“I know and maybe that’s a good thing but I don’t know what to think of it.” You said, turning when you heard Dean’s footsteps. He held up a DVD and you looked impressed. Maybe this was a good thing. You followed him to one of the trailers and he walked up the steps like he owned it.
“Whose trailer is this?” You asked.
“I have no clue but we need it.” He said, walking inside. You were impressed by what was inside and Dean immediately popped the DVD in and hit play.
“Alright, here's where the guy fell through the roof.” Dean said, watching what happened. You watched as the actors played their parts but then then Brad fell through the ceiling, hanging by a noose.
“Hey, wait, go back.” Sam said. Dean did as he was told and when Sam was happy, he let Dean know when to stop. Dean paused the frame and on the screen, you saw a completely different set. Standing in the far corner of it, there is a ghostly woman with marks on her neck, as if she was hanged.
“Whoa, who the hell is that?” You asked, looking at her more closely.
“I don’t know but it’s normal for spirits to be caught on camera. Something about the different level it can see that we can’t.” Dean said, looking at you.
“I've seen her before.” Sam said, getting up from the couch he was sitting on.
“Where?” You asked.
“I’ll have to show you. I’ll be back.”
You were sitting at a table with Dean and he still had his headset on. You were behind the movie set, eating some food and waiting for Sam.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. You’re just having some fun.” You said, looking at Dean.
“Don’t mention it. I have to admit, I am taking this a bit far. Seems like this is the only way I’ll ever be normal.” He said, looking at your eyes. You were about to say something but Sam came back, sitting at the table.
“Check this out.” He slid an article to you two.
“Yeah, go for Ozzy… No, I don’t have a 20 on Tara, I think she’s 10-100… Okay, copy that,” Dean said into his headset. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?” You and Sam shook your heads in exasperation.
“This is Elise Drummond. She was a starlet back in the thirties. Had an affair with a studio executive. He uses her up, fires her, and leaves her destitute, so Elise hangs herself from Stage 9's rafters, right into a scene they're shooting.”
“Just like Brad. So, what? She’s got it in for the studio?” You asked, looking at Sam.
“Possibly. I mean, it's a motive and Brad's death matches hers exactly.”
“Great, I’m assuming there are bones to be burned and we are going to be the one to burn them?” You asked.
“Yeah, we are.”
When nightfall came, you, Dean and Sam were at the Hollywood Cemetery, looking for her grave. You had shovels with you and you were carrying the duffel bag full of the salt and kerosene. Dean held the map of the cemetery since it was a tourist’s attraction.
“Where are we going? This cemetery is huge.” You said, looking at Dean.
“Over here,” Dean said, leading the way.
“You know what I don't get, is why now? I mean, after seventy-five years, Elise Drummond suddenly goes homicidal, you know? Why this movie?” Sam wondered.
“Well, maybe she's mad they're making a scary ghost flick.” Dean joked.
“Come on, is it really that scary?” Sam asked, stopping at the grave Dean stopped at.
“What I’m wondering is if she isn’t haunting for her, then maybe someone is summoning her. It’s possible, right?” You said, grabbing a shovel.
“That is another theory.” Sam said, starting to dig with you and his brother. It took you a while and once you dug far enough, Dean got in the grave and opened the coffin up to see the bones there. Sam helped him up and you poured the salt over her bones, the kerosene next. Dean was the one to burn the bones with his matches.
In the morning, you were back on set but this time, there were police there and detectives, a crime scene in place. You gasped when you saw a huge blood stain on a while backdrop with some guts hanging off it.
“So, I just talked with the police,” Sam said, walking back to you and Dean. “Jay, one of the producers, had a run-in with a giant fan. The same thing happened to an electrician back in '66, a guy named Billy Beard.”
“What the hell, guys? This doesn’t make any sense.” You said.
“I don't know. Doesn't seem like Elise this time, either. It's not her M.O.” Sam said with a shrug.
“No, we already torched her. So, what, are we dealing with another ghost?” Dean asked, looking at you.
“Maybe.” You shrugged.
“Yeah, but these things don't usually tag-team.” Dean said, confused more, now than before.
“Attention everyone! Can I see everyone outside, please?” A man yelled, gathering people who were already making their way outside. You frowned and looked at Sam and Dean before walking outside where the director was, sighing.
“Everybody! Gather around, okay! I've got an announcement to make,” McG said, making sure everyone is listening. “In light of Jay's accident last night, and in cooperation with the authorities, we're shutting down production for a few days. I know, I know. Look, I'm not gonna lie to you. We've had a few setbacks this week. But we all know what Jay and Brad wanted more than anything and that was to see Hell Hazers 2: The Reckoning on screens all across America! Now, we owe it to them to go on, and to pull together and make this damn movie, huh?”
Cheers and applause came from the crowd and you looked around, confused. You were so glad you weren’t in the movie. You didn’t know what would have happened.
“But not today! So, just go home and someone will call you!” McG said, going back to his car.
“Great, so, where are we staying?” You asked Dean.
“Back to the trailer it is.” He said with a grin, walking back to the trailer.
“That could belong to someone!” You said, you and Sam following him.
“No one is in here and it looks like it hasn’t been used since we were in here.” Dean said, taking a look inside. You sighed and walked into the trailer, sitting on the couch.
“Hey, I am going to go see where Billy might have been buried.” Dean said, leaving you and Sam alone. You sat back on the couch and watched as Sam popped in the DVD to watch some more clips from the movie.
“Are you seriously interested in that?” You asked, amused.
“Unless you want me to bug the shit out of you, I think this will keep me entertained until he gets back.” Dean walked back into the trailer a little while later and he looked at you, amused at how bored you looked and at Sam about how engrossed he was in this movie.
“Hey, did you find out where he was buried?” You asked, sitting up.
“He wasn’t. He was cremated.” Dean said, sitting next to you.
“Great, now what?” You asked, looking at Sam who paused the movie.
“No idea. Any more ghost cameos in the dailies?” Dean asked Sam.
“Not in the first six hours. You know, maybe the spirits are trying to shut down the movie because they think it sucks. Because, I mean, it kind of does.” Sam said with a chuckle. He played it again and Tara’s character started reading the book in Latin.
“You know, maybe we can revisit that idea about them summoning the ghosts. I mean, they are reading in Latin. They probably have no idea what they’re saying.” You said, leaning against Dean who welcomed you in.
“Wait, Y/N, you’re not wrong. Listen to it, that is the real deal. It’s a necromantic summoning ritual. What the hell is that doing in a Hollywood movie?” Sam asked, looking back at you and Dean.
“Come on, I think the writer must still be in the office.” Dean said, getting up. You followed the boys back on set, sneaking inside and to the office where the writer was, just like Dean said. You walked up to the door to see him on the phone, deep in conversation.
The Queens:
@maddieburcham1 @ginamsmith @mogaruke @whit85-blog@inlovewithbja @spn67-sister @kdfrqqg@jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @roxyspearing@supercalifragilistic26 @mishamigose @cobrakai1967 @essie1876@wishedworld @crispychrissy @laqueus-ludovicus @nostalgic-uncertainty @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel @potterhead1265@starswirlblitz @untitled39887 @ta-n-ja @deans-fallen-angel-boy @scarletluvscas @notnaturalanahi @tahbehonest @stay-in–place @dreaminofdean @posiemax @donnaintx @mikey1822@alexandriajanae4 @li-ssu @just-another-winchester@obsessivecompulsivespn @emoryhemsworth @newtospnfandom@mizzezm @goldenolaf25 @jessikared97 @wh1sp3r1ng-impala@charliebradbury1104 @queen-of-moons-peace-out-bitches @becs-bunker
The Dean Beans:
@akshi8278 @mega-mrs-dean-winchester @winchesterandpie@spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @carribear31 @tacklesackles@oreosatmidnight @not-naturalfangirl @missselinakitty @iam-a-cutiepie @kristendansmith @milo-winchester-4ever @jensenackesl@codyshany316 @pheonyxstorm @helllonearth @juniorhuntersam@pouterpufftrain @ruprecht0420 @shut-ur-face-and-get-in-the-car @carriemichelle2012 @aubreystilinski
@thing-you-do-with-that-thing
Series Rewrite Junkies:
@helllonearth @amyisabellal @deanwnchstr @caseykitten6@quixoticcat @supernaturalblogging @notmoose45 @crowleysminion @mina22 @tahbehonest @hadleymcallister2177 @destielsangels @spnhybrid @oreosatmidnight @valerieshubin@seninjakitey @flyonlittlewinchester @aubreystilinski@rocketqueeens @emilygracespellins @earthtokace
#Supernatural series rewrite#Hollywood Babylon#dean winchester#dean winchester series rewrite#dean winchester x reader#spn series rewrite#dean x you#dean x reader#dean x reader insert#dean#dean fic#dean winchester fic#dean winchester fanfiction#series rewrite#series rewrite masterlist#season 2 episode 18#s2e18#s2e18 spoilers#spoilers#spn#spn spoilers#supernatural#supernatural spoilers#sam#sammy#Sam Winchester#bobby#bobby singer
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Full Sturgeon Moon 2019
HAIL THE ANCIENT FAMILY IN ALL ITS GLORY! We call to you now to thank you for all you have provided us, from the most exquisite jubilation to the hardest lessons that need to be learned! We may not understand the underlying value of the lesson being taught at the time but we figure it out soon enough! One of the lessons we are currently learning is that you really can’t take anything for granted because if we do we may find that what we rely on simply to exist may not be there tomorrow! The Human Race is capable of great progress but it is also capable of great destruction! Look no further for proof of this than our heavy reliance on technology. This is not to say that technology in and of itself is a bad thing, it IS saying that it CAN be a bad thing when it becomes so overused that it is literally taking the place of human beings!
When the Human Race was reborn millennia ago, we had to rely on our own intellect, our wits and our ability to reason and think rationally. Because of this we were mentally sharp and able to overcome most obstacles as we were able to compromise when necessary to ensure that everyone had what they needed to survive. This does not mean that there were no conflicts or wars, of course there were, but the amount of damage done was much less than what we have seen in the last few centuries and significantly less than we have seen in the last 100 years! Why is this? Because there is a world of difference between a canon and an H-Bomb, Scud Missile, Underwater Mine or Nuclear Warhead! It never ceases to amaze me that most of the technology that man has come up with since the Flood is nothing short of a myriad of ways to destroy itself and everything around it!
A few centuries ago when a person or group went fishing all they had were rods, reels and nets to catch what was available so there was little chance of snaring something larger such as a dolphin just because you cast your net and mindlessly dragged in whatever was caught in it. Today we have tuna trawlers that go to deeper waters cast their nets and drag back any and all manner of marine life including dolphins and octopi among others. What’s worse is when these trawlers actually go looking for dolphins, sharks, whales and such because the Humans blood lust is such that even though many breeds of these being are endangered and in a lot of cases mammals such whales are ONLY killed for their blubber or bones, they keep hunting them down! I wonder what they will do when they’ve successfully killed off the last whale? Speaking of killing animals for their parts – the ivory trade has been responsible for the slaughtering of many elephants for their tusks! It was bad enough in the beginning when the firepower of the human was minimal, but now with the introduction of technology such as elephant guns, they can kill many more in a shorter time period than before!
Why do I bring all of this up? Because Ignorant selfish self-righteous and pretentious people will be the absolute end of the human race but not before several MORE species are long killed off by them! Those who value ONLY human life and cast everything including the natural world to the wayside stating that "the planet was here long before we were and will be here long after we are gone" as an excuse to continue their murderous and destructive agenda across the globe will find that in the end the ONLY thing they really accomplished was signing their own death certificates!
NINHURSAG did not create the Earth so that we could dishonor her and proceed to abuse and slaughter all of her other children!
ENKI did not put his neck and position in the Grand Assembly on the line so that we could turn around and spit in his face!
There is a way to counter this and it revolves around humans waking up and remembering that they are part of the Hoop of Life, not above it or below it but right in the round with everything else! One way to do this is to take a break from the hustle and bustle of city life and take a walk through the woods. Sit down. Listen to the birds sing. Watch the deer graze. Listen to the sound of the Wind rustling through the trees and for a few minutes forget about modern technology and hear the song of the Ancient technology that enabled us to get this far! Forget about things having price tags attached to them and remember the most valuable things in life are in fact priceless and once they are gone all the synthesized replacements will never hold a candle to the real thing! The sun in the sky, the air we breathe, the earth we walk. All these things are treasures beyond any and all fiduciary measure!
In a few days I myself will be partaking on an excursion back to nature in the White Mountains, I will be venturing off with a couple friends to the middle of nowhere in the woods to recharge my Spiritual batteries! I will kick off my shoes and let my feet sink deep into the unspoiled Earth and submerge in the water that is Bear Basin. And yes it is called that because there are in fact bears in the area as well as deer, moose, birds of all kinds and most likely every insect one can expect to be that deep in the woods! These so called “pests” are the reason why even though it is imperative to stay in tune with nature, that one does so responsibly by taking all the necessary precautions against insects such as ticks (Lyme disease) and mosquitoes (West Nile, Triple E) as these are souvenirs no one wants to take home with them!
One of the most invigorating things about being in the middle of nowhere, completely unplugged from ALL technology is that you remember that you don’t need bright flashy lights and loud noises to be entertained, all you have to do is look up at the night sky and see that never-ending trail of starlight and if you’re lucky you can look into the wood or around the water and see a trail of blinking lights all around you down below as well courtesy of natures “Flash Dancers” aka Lighting Bugs! I used to love catching them in jars, just had to remember to poke holes into the lid so they didn’t suffocate! The best thing about reconnecting with nature is that you get a deeper appreciation for the gifts that were given to us to help us survive and you realize that all of mans modern technology doesn’t help anything or anyone BUT man and in the grand scheme of things, this is a system doom to collapse!
Why is this? Because the one thing that humans seem to keep forgetting is that all their computer, cell phone, game consoles, airplanes, boats, weapons, water bottles, oil, gas etc are dependent on things found in the Earth! While used sparingly and for the right reasons, these components can last for centuries, however, the way that things are being done now the methods being employed to obtain these items are actually causing a LOT more harm than they are helping and the ones responsible are of course in complete denial about it! Unfortunately for them they can’t argue with statistics and actual proof of the damage that is being done through fracking fault lines and cutting down the forests, killing anyone who gets in their way! Recently the newly elected President of Brazil enabled the slaughter of not one but THREE Elders of an Amazonian Tribe because they refused to just let oil and gas companies come in and ravage the Rainforest! Apparently the President needs to go take an Earth Science course to get a clue that if he allows the Rainforest to be dismantled it will NOT just be those uncontacted Tribes who are displaced or effected! He needs to learn how nature works and that by cutting down the trees what he’s really doing is cinching the noose around EVERYONE’S – his included – neck!
Why do I bring this up? Because the responsibility is ALL of ours collectively as one Human Race, so many fancy themselves as superior to most if not all other species and yet we are the ONLY species that needs to rely on death to continue life. What do I mean by that? Every time the side of a mountain is strip-mined the earth gets weakened and is susceptible to land slides. Every time we clear the forest for land development we render whatever wildlife that lived there homeless and many times this is resolved by people shooting whatever shows up in their new backyard which used to be that animals front yard! We are the only species that hunts down other animals, not to eat the meat or utilize the carcass in any way but JUST to kill it! Trophy Hunters make me sick! If we are so superior to everything else then why is it we are the ONLY species on the planet that has become so far removed from nature and the spiritual that we actually think we can control it and get mad when we realize once again that isn’t the case?
The answer is because we are NOT superior and the only thing that keeps us tripping down this rocky path is our own egos! But I wonder what will we do when we’ve mined the last ore? When we’ve cut down the last tree? When we’ve completely destroyed the water? When we’ve rendered the air too toxic to breathe? When we have poisoned the soil and nothing can grow? Will the human race take a page out of the Hollywood handbook and start creating actual Terminators? I have a feeling this may in fact already be happening, I’m not kidding! Look no further for proof of this than the fact that almost EVERYTHING is online or digital in one form or another! Our currency is on the brink of collapse with the introduction of digital currency! I don’t like money myself, too many are willing to kill and die for it, but I do NOT trust digital currency at all mainly because it would be all too easy for a hacker to drain your account or shut down wherever it was being stored altogether and without a paper trail, you can’t prove how much you actually had in the bank! Don’t say it won’t happen, cyber crimes such as identity theft are a huge problem even with all these alleged security measures in place!
Imagine knowing who you are but being unable to prove it? Now imagine knowing who you are but having someone with a grudge erase your identity and replace it with the dossier of a repeat offender! Sounds like a movie doesn’t it? Unfortunately this is where we are headed with the way things are going, robots replacing human workers putting that many more out of the job and as the desperation to make ends meet increases so will the depths they will sink to to make it happen! If you don’t think so take for example 2 people, one robs a store because they have a habit to feed and the other robs the store because their bills are mounting and their kids need food and clothing or they need to make rent. One is a criminal, the other is committing what is known as a survival crime meaning they wouldn’t have done it if not for having been put out of work because their former employer wanted to save a couple bucks! It is truly reprehensible what we are willing to do to one another for the sake of nothing more than our own selfish gain but this is precisely how disconnected from each other we have become! As disconnected as we are from each other, we are even more disconnected from the Spiritual aspects of existence! It is the Spirit that keeps things going even when it seems all hope is gone, we have seen this time and again! We must reconnect to the Spirit, to the Earth and to each other if we have any chance of a viable future!
I still hold out hope that this can be achieved if we all really want it to be! The first thing we have to do is let go of our ego and stop allowing it to call the shots in every situation especially when we know that someone else’s needs supersedes our own! The second thing we need to do is realize that ALL life has value – even the animals we eat to survive which is why they deserved to be shown a life of comfort and appreciation leading up to the time when their life will be taken and their body processed for the sake of our survival. We do not see this occurring in what are known as “factory farms” because these places don’t care about the animals living conditions, only how fast they can fatten them up and slaughter them! This very practice is an affront to Ninhursag who provided us with these animals who should be shown all the gratitude we can muster given what is to become of them!
Now is the time of the Full Sturgeon Moon so named because the Tribes around the Great Lakes know that it is this time of the year when the Sturgeon will be at their most active and plentiful! When they go fishing they go with humble hearts and thankful Spirits that they are provided this sustenance in which to survive upon, especially during the harsh winter months when the Lakes freeze and there are no fish to catch until Spring! I wish I could say that everyone was so appreciative, especially those who ‘go fishing’ at their nearest supermarket! It never ceases to amaze me that those who have it the easiest are more often than not the least gratified and I honestly think it is that disconnection from the process of actually going out and hunting for their food that is the cause. That and all the chemicals that are found in our meat anymore!
While it is not overly realistic for everyone to go hunting every time, imagine how much healthier people would be from consuming a fresh kill rather than a ammonia processed, oil based plastic and Styrofoam packaged bag of poison? Well this may also not be true for much longer at the rate the Humans are going with their chemical compounds being sprayed all over from crop dusters high up and being blown every which way with the wind! These chemicals are killing off by the MILLIONS some of natures hardest workers – the bees! These tiny pollinating powerhouses land on a flower or blade of grass and they get the toxins on their feet or even breathe it in while in flight and that is the end of them! What those who spray this lethal concoction fail to understand is that without the bees to pollinate the same crops they are spraying this stuff on, those same crops are NOT going to be as healthy due not only to the lack of pollen but also the introduction of the very poison meant to keep aphids away!
AVE NINHURSAG! We know that you created everything on Earth for a reason, because each and every life form has a place in the Circle that enables all forms to live, hunt, consume and reproduce thus continuing the cycle. That of course is not the only thing that is done, whether Humans admit it or not, we are not the only ones who value their freedom! Have you ever seen a herd of horses run across an open Plain? Have you ever seen how they are generally treated at a racetrack ESPECIALLY if they LOSE the race? You will notice the difference in just how lively vs lethargic they are, whether they are apprehensive or passive when there are other Humans around. This is because on the Plain they have the whole world to run around and natural grasses to feed on whereas in a lot of horseracing they are pumped full of steroids and antibiotics and beaten or have ping pong balls shoved in their nostrils that ultimately suffocate them to death by some vile Human who just decided they no longer served a purpose! This is not to say ALL jockeys are this callous and cruel, but even ONE is one too many! We must remember that it is not for us to determine that any being should be put to death especially if there is nothing actually wrong with them! This includes wildlife such as foxes, bears, bobcats, cougars, coyotes etc! Let us make our Great Mother proud and show her by example that we truly are grateful for the plethora of different life forms she has bestowed upon this Earth!
AVE ENKI! We know that your Sweet Waters are the lifeblood of the planet which is why people NEED to be more aware of just how compromised they have made the waters the world over! Have you ever sat at a lakeside and watched the fish swim? Conversely, have you ever sat at a doctor’s office and watched the fish swim in the tank? You may have noticed that the fish in the lake are a lot more active than the fish in the tank or even at the aquarium and why? Because the fish in the lake are NOT being ogled at or manhandled or having the glass of their tank banged on by ignorant Humans! They also have a lot more room to move around not to mention everything around them is natural and NOT synthetic! Same thing for the animals in the zoo and in the circus! The only benefit that fish in the tank or aquarium have is that their water may be a bit cleaner than that of the wild fish and that is just sickening! It must anger Enki to see his Waters being so carelessly polluted by toxic waste, discarded medications and all manner of trash! Let us make our Father Enki proud and show him that we do value the Water as it is the source of ALL Life Medicine! MNI KIN WICONI!
This holding any life form in captivity also makes me wonder how Humans would feel if they were out enjoying life then suddenly they were shot with a tranquilizer dart or have a net thrown over them then are dragged away and stuck in cages to be gawked at by strangers in an environment they’ve never been in before! Yes one could make the argument for Human trafficking in this context and the sickest thing about that is that it is STILL the Humans who are committing these contemptible acts against their own species! Truly it must enrage our Mother and Father to see these horrific crimes against Humanity take place! This is amplified exponentially when it involves children of ANY age! There are some seriously depraved members of our Human race! That is why if anyone sees something that doesn’t seem right that it is best to alert the authorities, it is ALWAYS better to do so and be wrong than do NOTHING and be right enabling another abuser to get away with their crime!
Coming full circle with this sermon I leave everyone with this bit of advice; technology CAN be very beneficial; it keeps us connected across the globe, it enables farmers to cultivate, plant and reap crops that much faster, it also has done wonders with microsurgery but it can also be very detrimental when we lose sight of what matter matters most (LIFE) and begin to substitute it with any number and manner of “toys” and other unnatural and synthetic items that do severe damage to the ecosystem and all life forms that dwell therein! We must remember that if we cut down the trees, we are cutting off our air, if we pave over the Earth we are interfering with its electro-magnetic field! We cannot perform any Spell or Ritual work if the Energies we rely on to carry them are disrupted! Look no further for proof of this than how Religious and Spiritual ceremonies were conducted in the Ancient World when they didn’t have all this pollution and interference to contend with when they gathered at the Temple! Remember they may not have had all our “modern conveniences” but what they DID have on a Spiritual level was FAR superior to anything anyone could manufacture in a lab and it showed in their day to day and night to night life!
As always I am including a prayer and a song that has meant a GREAT deal to me for YEARS and it touches on everything that was discussed in this sermon! In fact the movie (“Legend 1986”) that it is taken from is a PERFECT example of human carelessness and self-entitlement throwing everything off kilter and just how effective the unity of the Humans and the Fae Folk is when we put aside our pretenses and do what must be done for the sake of Multiversal Balance!
I would also like to point out that even though the name of the song and the chorus state “Loved By The Sun” that it is NOT just the Sun that keeps things in Balance, the Moon plays an equally important role in the continuation of the cycle of Life and should be respected accordingly!
“Step outside, breathe in Natures Spirit,
Feel yourself becoming one with it!
Take a step, feel your feet sink into the Earth,
Close your eyes and feel your Soul’s rebirth!
Walk into the Water, feel it embrace your being,
Slowly submerge while you hear the birds singing!
Let go of the physical world and let your Spirit fly,
Let nothing hold you back as you soar across the sky!
Look up at the Stars how they paint a trail beyond the Moon,
Sense your inner self rising coming out of your cocoon!
There are things in this world which are never touched or seen,
The most important things in life are the ones that make us serene!
Nature’s beauty is always a sight that leaves viewers humble,
We must take great care to make sure that the image doesn’t crumble!
Water is Life, Air is Life, Earth is Life, Fire is Life, Spirit is the Guide,
So don’t rely only on what you are looking at and open your Third Eye!
There is so much more to see than that what is physically entailed,
When you let your Heart be your leader you will see beyond the Veil!
So forget what they dictate to you is worthwhile don’t let them plant that seed,
And return to Mother Nature, the one who always knows what we need!
-Nemesis Nexus (‘Reconnection’)”
“I have seen the mystics play there,
Once or twice well I knew they had a reason!
Enchantment plays it's cards all right
Hand in hand with the workings of the seasons!
Legends can be now and forever,
Teaching us to love for goodness sake!
Legends can be now and forever,
Loved by the sun, loved by the sun!
Loved
Two and two go so close together,
Whether there is hope that is torn apart!
In the words of all that's singing,
Hand in hand the beginning is at the start!
Legends can be now and forever,
Teaching us to reach for goodness sake!
Legends can be now and forever,
Loved by the sun!
Loved by the sun!
Loved
Who sings of all of love's eternity?
Whose shines so bright,
In all the songs of love's unending spells…?
Only lightning strikes all that's evil,
Teaching us to love for goodness sake!
Hear the music of love eternal,
Teaching us to reach for goodness sake!
Legends can be now and forever,
Teaching us to love for goodness sake!
Sweet songs of youth, the wise, the meeting of all wisdom
Sweet songs of youth, the wise, the meeting of all wisdom
Sweet songs of youth, the wise, the meeting of all wisdom
Sweet songs of youth, the wise, the meeting of all wisdom
To believe in the good in man
To believe in the good in man
To believe in the good in man
-Tangerine Dream f/Jon Anderson (“Loved By The Sun/Legend 1986”)
ZI ANA KANPA! ZI KIA KANPA!
MAY THE DEAD RISE AND SMELL THE INSENCE!
Etiamsi MULTA Et Nos UNUM Sumus Nos Sto Validus Ut Nos Sto Una!
Semper Veritas, Semper Fideles, In NINHURSAG'S Nomen Nos Fides! AVE NINHURSAG!
(We Are ONE Even Though We Are MANY And We Stand STRONGEST When We Stand TOGETHER!
Always TRUTHFUL, Always FAITHFUL, In NINHURSAG'S Name We Trust! HAIL NINHURSAG!)
AVÉ IGIGGI!
AVÉ ANUNNA!
AVÉ DRACONIS!
HAIL THE GREAT SERPENT!
HAIL THE ANCIENT FAMILY!
HPS Meg "Nemesis Nexus" Prentiss
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i was tagged
tagged by: @dilutedwater
rules: answer the questions in a new post and then tag ten blogs you would like to get to know better
nickname: hy star sign: capricorn height: 168cm (sometimes 167 or 169, depends on who measures) time right now: 10.15pm favorite music artist: I listen to mostly Block B and Infinite lately but uhhh I can’t choose omg. Block B? song stuck in your head: Only Tears by Infinite and Shine by Kim Sunggyu (lol, after I just chose Block B too). last tv show you watched: Like literally on tv? Maybe The Noose?? (Channel 5, local channel hahahhaha) what are you wearing right now: tshirt, shorts, specs (basically comfy home clothes) what do you post: on this blog is mostly doll stuff, reblogs of maybe gender/privilege stuff, I can’t really remember what else. do you have any other blogs / saved url’s: for tumblr, stillcian1675 is my kpop reblog blog, fifty---seven is my kpop fanart blog, not gonna link my personal blog but I have one too. On blogger I have a doll blog as well where I write longer stuff since this blog is mostly for photos rather than dolly rants. why did you choose your url: literally just because I have this username everywhere. lol. (the story of my username is here on my doll blog which I won’t copy here because it’s long.) do you get asks regularly: no. I forgot if my ask box is actually open on this blog though... hogwarts house: I have no clue... pokémon team: even less clue... favorite color: I can’t really choose but probably grey (leaning on the darker shades) and green (any). average hours of sleep: recently 6? usually probably 7-8. favorite characters: MINEEE. Lol, jk, idk. how many blankets do you sleep with: one, but I only use it when it’s cold which is almost never until this tropical climate started acting weird this year. following: 423 (wow ok I never checked, and this probably isn’t a lot but I didn’t think I followed quite so many.)
tagging: won’t reach 10 but uh @genkisdolls @die-munich-rache and if anyone feels like doing this, please do!
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SE4SON: Chapter 14
Nick, donned in his suit of armor, was now outside of the border, riding on Butterscotch's back. They were now on their way to find the mine. The two have been on the trail for almost 50 minutes. Nick was starting to grow bored. He was very tired from waking up so early, and hungry, since he skipped breakfast too. He sure feels sorry that Jimmy, Diana, and Rodent Girl will have to eat whatever Benson cooks up for them. He hates to just leave his best friend without telling him, but maybe Diana will cover for him. No longer wanting to bear with his hunger, he took the apple out of his satchel, then lifted the visor of his helmet. But before Nick could take a bite, Butterscotch came to a stop.
Nick clumsily fell off the horse, and dropped his apple. He slammed face first into a wooden sign that said "Jewel Mine. No Admittance." The armored boy looked out into the distance to discover the mining cave ahead, guarded by a lonesome, chunky, yet muscular, man playing an accordion. Butterscotch helped Nick up by biting hold of his plume. As thanks, he gently stroked the stallion's snout. He took a deep breath, then closed his visor.
"This won't take long, boy. Well, I think it will. I have no experience in mining. But I do have experience in sneaking into places I'm prohibited from."
The young boy then marched towards the cave. As soon as they parted, Butterscotch ate the apple that Nick had just dropped. The Keeper of the Mine stopped playing his instrument when he saw a miniature knight heading his way to the mine.
"Halt! Who dares to set foot into the King's royal treasury mine!" "You mean, you don't recognize an authority of the king when you see one?"
Nick withdrew the fake badge from his satchel, and presented it as proof to the Keeper. The man walked up to Nick, so he could observe the small knight further. From the inside of the suit, Nick's eyes read "fear," and he was sweating like a hog. For a split second, he pictured a noose in his head.
"How old are you, son?" "I'm 45! Midgets deserve proper representation too, ya know!" "That so. Then why hasn't your voice cracked yet?" "*Gulp* It's a stable vocal condition!" "You mean you're ill?" "No, I'm not sick, and nor can this even be cured! I have no control over how I sound!" "You're trying to tell me... ...that YOU'RE HEXED?!" "No, NO! Magic, witchcraft, or cult stuff, is all just fictional! The reason I sound like I'm twelve is that a condition... It's similar to an illness... No, I don't think they're the same. It's sorta a medical thing... Or a science thing... I wish I haven't slept through most of my biology periods." "You sound worse than I thought! You really must be ill! Or hexed! Come! I shall take you to a specialist-" "Can a 45 year-old man just do his job in peace so he could feed his wife and 16 children?! I came all the way out here to fill-in a mineral inspection for the king, not to be pestered by the likes of a measly peasant! Either you let me in, or I'll report this rubbish to King Jason himself!"
Despite how confident Nick's voice came out, he was still afraid behind that helmet.
"Oh. OHHHHHHHHHHH. Why didn't you say so in the first place?" "(I literally came to you in a suit of armor with a badge!! Isn't that enough to convince you?!)" "Enter, as you wish." "Thanks. You know, King Jason has been talking about you lately. Did you know you're one of his favorite guys?" "('One of his favorite guys,' bah. The only thing that old tyrant can do to make me happy is by hanging from his own noose.)"
Nick let out a mental sigh of relief. He thought it'd be more of a challenge to get passed him. Bless Diana for the costume, and the badge. The entrance to the mine was a downward, sloped path. Just by taking one step, Nick, again, clumsily fell down.
"You need some help there, sir?" Asked the man. "I'm an adult! I can take care of myself! Don't worry about me, Old Timer! Man's gotta do what a man's gotta do." Replied Nick.
After getting back up on his feet, he grabbed a pickax that happened to be lying around, took the lantern out from his satchel, then wandered deep into the tunnel. He's gonna do this for Jimmy. He's gonna do this for his home. The boy's not gonna rest until he brings back some quartz.
...........................
[*Back at the hut*]
"We're just about done! Not quite what I was hoping for, but... Boy, that glue really sticks!" Said Jimmy. "Yep! I told you we didn't need to waste more planks!" Replied Diana.
The time machine was rebuilt back in one piece, only this time, Diana and RG ended up making it look like an outhouse. Jimmy tried to be avoidant on any remarks that would offend his team. Speaking of team, he wonders how Nick is doing. It has been an hour already, and Jimmy hasn't heard from him since that issue with the cockroach.
"Nick's been really quiet lately." Said Jimmy. "Well, you know how tweenagers are. I certainly don't." Replied Diana. "I wonder what's keeping him busy, and why hasn't he left the hut yet?" "Well... You know how tweenagers are." "You've already said that." "See! I told you I don't know anything about them!" "I'm gonna go check on him-" "NO! I--I just remembered! After I splattered that little pest all over the floor, the young lad decided to take a nap!" "I suppose that does make sense. Nobody awake can be quiet for that long, except Sheen during an Ultralord rerun marathon, and he has woken up much earlier than on schedule. Now that I think of it, *Yawn*, sleep's starting to get to me, too." "And maybe you can get some, now that all the work has been done! You deserve a nice, long, rest!"
Benson eventually came out of the house, with a tray of muffins.
"Anyone care for a poppyseed muffin?" Spoke Benson. "Did Nick make those?" Asked Rodent Girl. "No. I did, of course." "Pass!" "How's Nick doing in there, by the way?" Questioned the tired genius. "Nick-?"
Diana quickly changed the subject.
"Hey, BENSON, look what we just repaired! I know you weren't awake to see it broken, but we fixed it! Just thought you'd like to see what we accomplished!" "Oh. My."
Benson walked up to the time "outhouse" to get a better look. It was frankly hideous, and hilarious you might add, but just like Jimmy, he kept his unpleasant remarks to himself.
"It really is... ...something! Oh well. It's the thought that counts, right?"
Benson patted on the machine two times, and it collapsed back into debris, but in smaller pieces. Jimmy almost fainted for a second. He was looking forward to that long nap, and now they have to start all over.
"Alright. I surrender. I'll get the wooden planks." Said Diana. "I'll get some more coffee." Said Rodent Girl. "I'll... ...try to leave you three alone. I'd help, but there's much cleaning to be done." Said Benson.
...........................
[*Back in time*]
Sheen and Libby were walking together, following an address written on a tiny sheet of paper.
"This is it, Sheen. We here."
The two reached their destination: A commoners' apartment building, or as Nick likes to call "home." Sheen never expected Nick to live in somewhere so rundown. Nick's popular, used to be anyways, so he envisioned him to live in some condo, or at least a normal house like all his other friends. Popularity doesn't mean rich, Sheen! At this time and place, by sheer coincidence, they met up with Carl, who was attaching more flyers, along with Goddard.
"Came here to highlight more of my pain?" Carl whined. "What are you talking about? We're just here to look for any clues about Nick and where the heck is he." Libby responded. "You'd rather look for him than your own friend?!" "We're looking for both, Carl." "Technically, she's looking for both. I'm just looking for Nick." Said Sheen. "What?! I-- Why, Sheen?! I feel like I don't know you anymore! How can you care for him more than Jimmy?!" Again, Carl whined. "One thing for sure: He's more nicer to me than Jimmy." "You two aren't even friends! He hasn't gotten your name right yet!" "Buuuuuuuuut, he's never picked me last in basketball!" "You know what, Sheen? If you don't wanna consider Jimmy as a friend anymore..."
A long silence paused between them.Libby looked at each of them awkwardly, back and forth. What happened between them, and what does it have to do with Jimmy? Sheen sounds like he has lost his respect for Jimmy. The boy genius sure gave himself an infamous reputation for making more enemies than friends. Libby feels she should have a say in this, but the trouble is, she doesn't know what to say. Her words could make it worse, anyways.
"...I don't think I wanna be yours, either!!" "No, no Carl! You surely don't mean it!" "I DO! ANYONE WHO'S NOT A FRIEND OF JIMMY IS NO FRIEND OF MINE! C'mon, Goddard!" "W-Wait! Carl! CARL!"
Carl refused to listen to Sheen furthermore, and decided to take his flyers someplace else. Goddard followed him. The robotic hound turned his head towards Sheen and Libby, hesitated for a bit, then tagged along behind Carl.
"I think you should-" Said Libby, before Sheen cut her off. "Nah. I think it's best that we let him be. Give him time to blow off some steam, er. He'll come crawling back eventually. He always does."
The duo entered the building, took a lift on the elevator (with a creepy man holding a poodle), then walked down the aisle to look for Nick's apartment number. When they found the door they've been searching for, Libby rang the doorbell. Nick's mom answered right away.
"What can I do for you, children?" Asked Nick's mother. "Huh. So that's what his mom sounds like! I had no idea she had an accent." Said Sheen.
Libby nudged Sheen for being rude, even though he didn't intend to.
"*Ahem* Good evening, Mrs. Dean. We were hoping you could let us in so we could invest for clues that might give us answers to the disappearance of your son. If you don't mind." "Oh, I know you two! You go to the same school as Nick! Let me see here... Libby! ...and Shine!" "Sheen!" Barked Sheen. "And as a matter of fact, I don't mind at all. Nice to find more people who actually care to help find my son. Go on right in! Just don't disturb me too much. I'm trying to print more flyers."
After Libby and Sheen stepped in, one sentence, said by Mrs. Dean herself, crossed Libby's mind. Mrs. Dean mentioned Libby and Sheen as the "more people" who actually care about Nick's whereabouts. Where are his friends? Does he have any other relatives in Retroville? As a matter of fact, all the kids have questioned about where Nick has gone, but never bothered to look for him. The same applies for Jimmy.
The two looked around the apartment for a short while. Sheen looked at some random objects that had nothing to do with the case, and then raided the fridge. Libby looked at a couple of photos. Some were of Nick in his current age, and some of Nick at a younger age. He had the same curtain hair style back then, only a more shorter cut. All of them had Nick smiling in each and every picture, except the ones where he's with a man she's not familiar with. It's more likely that the man in the photos could be Nick's father, especially since he bears some of his features. He probably isn't such a good father, judging by how sad little Nick looks. Whatever he has done to his son, now she figured out why Nick never wants to talk about his dad.
Another photo Libby came upon was an adorable shot of Nick, possibly around 9-10, decorating a cake, and next to it, a shot of Nick mixing a big pot over a hot stove.
"That's cute. Does Nick help you around the kitchen very often?" "Oh, no, he cooks himself." "Nick... ...cooks?" "Uh-huh. He makes his own meals, and sometimes he shares them with me. The food always taste better than how I prepare them. Heh-heh." "Nick can cook?!" Sheen asked, a little late.
There seems to be a lot about Nick they don't know, but how deeper will they dig? To investigate further, Libby and Sheen decided to check his bedroom.
"Promise me you won't make a mess. I just cleaned two days ago." Said Mrs. Dean. "No promises!" Replied Sheen.
Sheen shoved half of his body under the bed. Libby looked around the room, opening drawers. Sheen found a few things under the bed that couldn't interest anyone. He found lint, laundry that hasn't been washed for months, and DVDs of old 80s cartoons and anime.
"Poor kid. Still watches DVDs. And cartoons from 100 years ago."
He also found a stuffed teddy bear. Big bad Nick, in possession of something soft and cuddly? First the 80s toons and anime, now this. Sheen took out his phone and began taking pictures, for blackmail use in the future. As the boy continued searching under the bed, the last thing he found was a sketchbook. All the drawings were lineart of happy things in gloom, such as a melting rainbow, and an alcoholic bunny rabbit. Nick must've had an emo phase, Sheen thought. The only non-depressing sketch in the whole book was a huge heart, with "ND + JN" written in the center.
"Don't know anybody named ND or JN, but it's good to know that Nick supports them! Wait, isn't JN that same clown who put the notes all over Jimmy's lab? I wonder what this ND person has in store for me."
Back to Libby, she looked through Nick's drawers to find any clues. All she found were clothes, underwear, and socks. She decided to check the closet next. As always, she found more clothes, and shoes. But, far in the corner of the closet, she noticed a cardboard box. She reached out and grabbed the box. When she opened it, it was full of The Amazing Insect-Man comics. ...the old-school kind. Libby never thought of Nick being into comic books about superheroes in tights. He said so himself that he finds them to be dweeb-ish. Well, guess he's a closet comic book fan. Get it? Get it?
"Oh. Insect-Man. The inferior one in contrary to the awesome might of Ultralord. Ugh. Why does Nick have such bad taste? No wonder he's become washed up!" Sheen commented.
Curious, Libby looked into the comics to see why Nick finds interest in them. There were so many things to list that Nick could see himself in. 1. The title character is a Brazilian American (Well, Afro Brazilian American, but still). 2. Insect-Man/Frankie Fender didn't have a girlfriend like most superheroes, and sought no attraction in any of the female characters. 3. Frankie prefers being Insect-Man more than his real identity. As Insect-Man, he has crowds all around him, and he is loved by most. As Frankie, he is just everybody's least favorite geeky loser. People don't love you for yourself, depending on who yourself is. As quoted by Frankie Fender (aka, Insect-Man).
The last place neither Sheen or Libby haven't checked yet was Nick's writing desk. Agreeing to improvise, Libby went to check the drawers, while Sheen went into the waste basket, which was full of crumbled up paper. Libby happened to discover a picture of Jimmy hidden away. Why does Nick even have this picture? He does respect him more than anybody else, but she didn't know he was that fond of him. Jimmy keeps Nick's phone number on him, so does he feel the same way? Libby can't imagine these two as besties. They don't have anything in common, aside from they both take their hair seriously. Wherever they be, maybe they both opened up a salon together, somewhere. Then, abruptly, Libby heard Sheen crying.
"Sheen? What's wrong, baby?" "I take back what I said about Nick having bad taste. That boy is a literature genius! Look at this! I haven't cried this much since the death of ToyBoy, and Ultralord #68 volume 2 where Ultralord meets his long lost deceased father only to find out he's been reincarnated as a fascist politic!" "Where'd you get that?" "From the trash."
While Sheen continued to weep his eyes out, Libby observed the sheet of paper from him. He was right. The writing was beautiful, and tearjerking. This short story perfectly draws out the experience of having an unrequited crush, and accepting the fate that you two will never be together because you hasn't the chance. Libby has been on that road long ago. But then, she stopped indulging into the story when she re-read it and found Cindy's name mentioned. She put the paper down on the desk to look for anything else connected to this writing. The top drawer contained an envelope with Jimmy's name written in cursive, addition to a heart shaped dot over the i. She examined the three pieces collected: The envelope, the picture, and the short story.
Having a brain blast of her own, it turns out the short story isn't a short story at all, but a love letter. Libby thought this was just a dumb theory, but looks like her theory was true. It has all made sense since the beginning. Nick hardly talks to girls. Whenever he's asked on a date, he'll only accept it if they're offering free stuff, or if they're paying for his meals. Cindy once tried this with concert tickets, until ruined by Jimmy. He doesn't mind performing with girls, but only because it's beneficial. He does flirt with girls a bit, but gives them the cold shoulder afterwards. Back when him and Betty were dating, due to pressure pushed upon him by his male colleagues, the pairing had absolutely no chemistry, which resulted in them breaking up. No doubt about it: Nick Dean is gay.
"Did you find anything yet?" Asked Sheen, still sobbing. "Uhhhhhh.... Nope! Didn't found nothin'. This is a waste of time! Let's just go home." Replied Libby.
Nick's secret is safe with her. Libby and Sheen have already snooped through all his personals, but she didn't wanna go that far as to snitching on the poor kid.
..........................
[*Back in medieval*]
Nick can't tell by now, but the afternoon is slowly arriving. The boy has been prying apart any rock face he came faced with. His arms were starting to hurt and he just wanted to rest, but that didn't stop him. No such luck, but that didn't mean he didn't find anything. Earlier, he struck some diamonds, but then he threw them out because they weren't what he was looking for. After that, he registered gravel, which piled all over him. Some of it got into his armor. Then 10 minutes later, he got chased by bats (and screamed like a girl again). Nick was making no progress, but that doesn't mean he's ready to give up. All of a sudden, Nick then stopped at his rock prying. He forgot...
"I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT QUARTZ LOOKS LIKE!"
Nick dropped the pickax and sat himself down on the cold floor. He knows for a fact that quartz is suppose to be a gem, but he's never seen one. He's only familiar with diamonds, rubies, sapphires, but they don't really qualify as quartz, according to Jimmy's knowledge. Is quartz a type of gem, or does it come in many varieties? It could probably take him months before he could get his hands on some quartz, and Nick's not gonna stay in this clunky and smelly armor for that long. Now might be the best time to throw in the towel.
Although, Nick is not prepared to go back to the hut and face Jimmy. He'll just make himself look like an idiot to him. Continuing to do good deeds for Jimmy when he told him not to, and then coming home empty handed. Maybe Jimmy hasn't noticed that he left yet. Maybe Nick could just take off the armor, and pretend as though he never left. However, that will never get the failure off his conscience. All he wanted to do was show Jimmy he is worthy enough to him. Eh. Maybe he's just overdoing it. The boy genius appreciates him enough already. No need to be perfect.
“Tsk tsk tsk, pathetic.”
Daniel had then reentered Nick's mind.
“I always knew you couldn't do it. And you should know that, cuz I'm always right. I'm always better than you. Face it, Nicky boy. If you were meant to surpass my standards, your whole image wouldn't have gone downhill. You couldn't hold on to your popularity because the only thing you're good at is failing. You're a born loser. Bastard children are suppose to be losers, for it is punishment by God to kids he had no intention of creating. The poor, worthless, lonely, f*ggot. Is worthless from the start, and will be worthless to the end. Good luck trying to impress a boy who doesn't want your d*ck.”
Nick got up and angrily bashed the rock face with his pickax to cope with his rage.
"It is all your fault. You manage to make me care about how much other people would think of me, even when you're not here! You're the reason why I became so unhappy with myself! I could've had a normal childhood with real friends, but all I got was stress and depression! Worse, you made me feel afraid of my own sexuality, because you convinced me that my way of love is wrong! Disgusting! Abnormal! And I believed you! I'M F*CKIN' TIRED OF HIDING OUT! LET ME HAVE MY LIFE!"
With all his strength put in, he dug himself a deep hole, while jabbing his pickax hard enough for it to stick there. Nick paused for a moment, taking deep breaths. That was all he needed to let out his anger. Now's the time to just head home, without claiming his prize. But...
As Nick retrieved his pickaxe back, some glowly, golden light shined out from the hole. At first Nick thought it was just regular gold, which would make no use to Jimmy. The boy opened his visor and poked his eye into the hole. Gold is most known to be conceived as metal, but this type of gold had more of a shiny, rocky substance to it. Nick crossed his fingers, and then pried at the hole, to reach towards that golden light.
.............................
Later, Nick crawled out of the mine, and ran straight to Butterscotch.
"The king will be very proud, good sir! Perhaps he'll give you a bonus!" Shouted Nick, to the Keeper. "(Bonus, huh. What I really need is a decent day-off.)"
When Nick had reached Butterscotch, the horse had fallen asleep. Nick wasn't gonna wait until this dumb stallion wakes up, so he took the carrots out of his satchel, and hung them in front of Butterscotch's nostrils. The horse opened one eye, then closed it again, ignoring the carrots. He was tired, not hungry.
"C'moooooooon, Butterscotch. If you wake up and take me back to Diana, I'll play checkers with you!"
The horse continued to slumber.
"How 'bout I bake something for you instead? Huh? Would an oat cake sound nice?"
Nick has finally came to Butterscotch. The white stallion fully awakened, standing on his two hind legs, and neighing at the top of his lung so that everyone could hear him.
............................
[*At the hut*]
Diana, Jimmy, and Rodent Girl finished rebuilding the time machine, except this one looked like the one Jimmy and Nick built together, as if it were never destroyed. Rodent Girl eventually passed out when her caffeine rush worn off, and the boy genius was ready to collapse any second now.
"wE dId It. It LoOkS gReAt. We DiD gReAt. CaN't WaIt To FiRe Up ThIs BaBy." Said Jimmy. "You don't look too good. I think you better sleep it off and restore your strength." Replied Diana. "bUt... I wAnT nIcK tO cOmE sEe It." "I'm sure he can go look at it on his own. Rest now." "nO. i WaNt To ShOw HiM mYsElF..."
Jimmy was about to fall, but Diana caught him in time. She carried the sleepy little boy in her arms and took him into the barn. She set him down on the hay bed, then put the blanket over his body. Poor little fella has worn himself out, but still yarns for Nick's presence. Speaking of Nick, he has been gone for quite so long. Diana thought she should go check on him, to make sure he's okay.
"I HAVE RETURNED!"
Nick, riding on Butterscotch's back, burst through the door of the hut, like a hero back from the war. Nick? When Jimmy heard his best friend's voice, he shot out of bed and ran outside. As Nick caught Jimmy in sight, he got off of Butterscotch, then opened his visor so that the boy genius could recognize him.
"Nick, what are you wearing?"
Instead of answering Jimmy's question, he walked right up to him. He got down on one knee so that he could face Jimmy eye-to-eye at his length. Nick took out the tiny sack from his satchel, then the tiny box, and opened it to reveal the treasure Jimmy's been seeking to. By the angle Diana and Benson gazed at them from, the scene resembled a man making a marriage proposal to his partner. Jimmy's blue eyes marveled at the golden rock. It was rutilated quartz.
"This isn't one of those good deeds," Nick lied, "I just wanna go home as badly as you do, so I thought I'd save us time."
Jimmy grinned, and stared at his friend dreamily. He should be upset with Nick for going out there to the mine without him, but by this certain way he feels towards him, knowing he did it out of an act of care, he somehow couldn't. The real important thing that matters is that Nick's back okay. Jimmy threw himself at Nick, again embracing into another hug. Nick wrapped a single arm around his friend, returning the hug back. Diana and Benson were both touched by this warm moment. Jimmy and Nick's relationship reminded Benson of this certain duo from a long time ago, but he can't seem to put his finger on it.
#Jimmy Neutron#Boy Genius#Nick Dean#Cindy Vortex#Libby Folfax#Carl Wheezer#Sheen Estevez#Season 4#fanfic#romance#adventure#TVverse#TVEE#Happy Pride 2019!
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