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wildlyglittering · 3 years

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The Perils of Being Mr. Nesta Archeron

It’s important you understand this is my incredibly poor attempt at comedy and I just wanted to write some nonsense.

This popped into my brain after seeing all the posts about how awesome Nesta is and how she had a ridiculous amount of marriage proposals and interest from human men, fae males and demons alike.

I just kind of took it from there...

***

“I still like what Nesta’s done to the place.”

Feyre looked around the grand drawing room of the House of Wind, her dozing son on her lap and her bored mate at her side who murmured something which could be taken as an agreement while pulling off imaginary pieces of lint from his sleeve.

The House was now Nesta’s, in as much as anything sentient could truly belong to anyone, and as such was rarely used for official Night Court business. Its predominant function was as home to Nesta, Cassian and a reluctant Azriel, who’d been gifted the responsibility of ‘supervisor’ – a gift which Feyre suspected he’d like to return.

The Inner Circle still held Starfall at the House and, like now, the High Lord and High Lady of Night, would visit. When she visited alone, Feyre visited in the capacity of sister and friend but when with Rhys, it was all work.

Nesta and Cassian had embraced their titles as the Lord of Bloodshed and Lady Death and their combined reputations proceeded them sending them into every corner of Prythian and the many dark outer reaches was a tactic Rhys now employed.

The aim was to achieve negotiations and encourage peaceful surrenders where necessary but if there was resulting collateral damage, it was of little consequence to Rhys.

The other reason that the House was seldom used for official Night Court business was the unnerving issue of the House itself. Whilst the majority of the architecture remained unchanged there was the occasional surprise addition. Or subtraction.

Amren discovered the House’s penchant for the latter when, on one uninvited call, she opened a door which should have led to private chambers only to find herself plummeting through the air onto the ground. She swore blind the House foundations quivered like it was laughing.

Feyre wondered how independently the House acted from Nesta and how much it carried out her wishes. She suspected that this room, the grand drawing room, had been one of Nesta’s heart fulfilments or, at least, something for Cassian.

The room was sizable, entered from the hallway via a series of doorway arches wide enough for splayed Illyrian wings. Oversized plush furniture filled the room and the floors were strewn with thick sable rugs.

The most spectacular draw to the room was the window which stretched from ceiling to floor and from wall to wall on the side opposite the doorways. The view, one across Velaris’ golden rooftops and shining turquoise waters of the Sidra, filled the space like a painting.

Feyre sighed, at least this current visit was expected and so they weren’t risking the windows opening of their own accord to fling them out. The occupants of the House had been gone for longer than anticipated on this task and so Rhys sent ahead a message that he wanted a full debrief when they returned.

Feyre opened her mouth to speak again but stopped when she heard the thud of boots and flutter of wings.

“Finally,” Rhys said with a glance towards Nyx whose eyes flickered open.

“He’ll be happy see Aunt Nesta,” Feyre said in a sing-song voice to her now awake baby, turning him so he could view the entrance. “He loves Aunt Nesta.” She wasn’t above using her infant son as a tactic to avoid her eldest sister’s potential irritation at the intrusion into her home.

Rhys eyed up the shaking walls, “Yes, as does the House.”

Nesta entered first and Feyre breathed a sigh of relief that the floor remained solid underneath where she sat.

“Hello,” Nesta said, her voice soft and cooing. Her welcome wasn’t to her sister or brother-in-law but to the now beaming baby in Feyre’s lap whose legs and arms flailed in the air as he wriggled.

Nesta stepped further into the room, treading over the rugs, arms outstretched, “Come to Aunty Nesta.”

The vast windows let in the bright sunlight, sunlight which illuminated the state of the Illyrian leathers Nesta had clad herself in.

Feyre shrieked, twisting in the chair and blocked Nyx from Nesta’s grasp, pointing at her sister’s waist. “What is that?””

Nesta paused and frowned, looking down.

Aside from the interesting splotches of red across the leathers, the utility belt tightened around Nesta’s waist contained the usual items Feyre expected; knife, pouch, knife, another knife and then... another item she hadn’t.

A leather strap was wound in multiple knots around the thick band and tied to an uneven, lumpy dome the other end. The lumpy dome ended in a stump clotted with congealed blood.

“Oh,” Nesta said with a shrug, “I forgot.” She untied the leather strap and pulled the lump away. “Just another one for the collection.” With a graceful arm movement, Nesta threw what Feyre realised was a decapitated head onto the floor where it landed with a thud, a dribble of blood oozing fresh from the neck wound.

“Well, you can’t hold the baby until you’ve washed your hands. Thoroughly.”

Nesta frowned at her, an ice-cold glare fixed on her face. “Fine,” she snapped, as though Feyre’s request was unreasonable.

Cassian, unlike her sister, had taken some time to remove his blood encrusted leathers before greeting his guests, and he wandered in through the arch with a nod of his head towards Feyre and Rhys.

His hazel eyes noted the bloodied head by the door and he released a sigh.

“You need to stop doing that.”

“The House doesn’t mind.”

The shutters covering the windows in the other rooms started to clatter up and down.

“See?”

“Yes, but I mind and besides,” he gestured across to Feyre, “an infant is present.”

Nyx, now bouncing on Feyre’s lap, slapped his hands together as hard as he could in time with the House. He gazed at Nesta as though she’d sliced her way through necks especially for him.

“He doesn’t care,” Nesta said in a sing-song voice eerily similar to the tone Feyre herself used earlier. She beamed at her nephew, “He’s clapping with the House.”

Rhys’ face turned white, “The House is applauding you?”

“Oh yes,” Az said, arriving at last and pushing his way through where Cassian and Nesta stood to flop down onto the armchair next to Feyre. “Nesta always gets rapturous applause when she brings home a kill.”

Feyre glanced from Azriel, legs sloping over one armrest while his head flopped across the other, to Nesta and then onto Cassian who was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“As much as I am ecstatic to see you all,” he said, “I’ll leave Az to deal with the debrief. I need to go lie down for a while.”

Cassian exited as swift as he entered, Az not bothering to open his now closed eyes. The concerned glances of the other room occupants followed Cassian’s retreating back.

Nesta turned back to Feyre, the ice-cold glare melted away. “Excuse me while I disappear.” Then, in a heartbeat, her expression was one of joy, “Bye-bye baby, I’ll see you in a little bit for snuggles.”

Nyx let out a small sob as Nesta left and Feyre quickly turned him towards her, readying him for a feed, knowing that the small sob would turn into a loud shriek.

“Well,” she said, “she obviously prefers Nyx to me.”

“Feyre, darling – you got spoken to,” Rhys said. “I think it’s safe to say Nesta didn’t acknowledge my existence. Which I’m fine with,” he added, nervously eyeing up the House’s stone walls, “whatever makes her happy.”

Nyx, thankfully, latched onto Feyre’s bared breast and for a moment no noise sounded in the room other than his greedy milk-hungry gulps.

A thought played over and over in her mind though; Nesta’s look of concern, Cassian’s uncharacteristic broodiness. “Are they ok?” she asked Az, at the same time Rhys enquired as to how the recent mission went.

Az’s eyes fluttered open and he gestured to the head on the floor. “As you can tell – we won.” Then, his voice gentler, he turned to Feyre, “They’re fine.”

“Is Cassian upset at the violence? At Nesta doing the um...,” and using her free hand Feyre motioned across her throat with a finger.

Az laughed, such a rare sound it reminded Feyre of the bells on Solstice evening. “Not at all. He likes that she does those things it’s just-”

He paused.

Rhys, satisfied that the mission went well and not caring about anyone’s romantic woes, settled back into the loveseat while Feyre leaned forward, careful to not disrupt her feeding son.

Azriel nodded towards the head, “Before the Anguis went the way of Hybern and the Kelpie, he managed to propose.”

“Not another one!”

“Don’t worry,” Azriel said, “I’m sure Nesta is reassuring Cassian of her love as we speak.”

As though cued up with expert timing, or, as Feyre suspected, the House lifting a self-imposed sound barrier to prove a point, the thumping drifted down to the grand room from several floors up.

“That was...fast.”

Suddenly Azriel appeared just as exhausted as Cassian had. “Nesta reassures Cassian of her love at least twice a night anyway, and when she’s done reassuring him, he feels the need to thank her back.”

Feyre winced, her face contorting into one of displeasure while Rhys didn’t try to hide his smirk. “This is what – the fourth proposal? Fifth?”

Az closed his eyes and dropped his head backwards once more. “Ninth. This isn’t the worst we’ve had.”

Nyx snuffled and Feyre moved him to her other breast. “Wasn’t the first in the Winter Court?”

They’d been in Winter for the naming ritual of Kallias and Viviane’s baby and once the ceremony was done, all guests mingled in the palace hall. The High Lord and Lady of Winter stood on the dais, draped in silver and grey, Viv beaming as she held her pink cheeked daughter.

The music, food and wine flowed freely but Feyre could barely hear the former over the laughter of the high fae and the chime of glasses as toast after toast was declared. The Inner Circle members had dispersed throughout the crowds earlier, all intent on seeking their delight in various forms.

Feyre had seen Nesta on the dance floor for the opening songs but she’d long since gone and Feyre wondered if Nesta and Cassian had snuck away to take advantage of the Winter palace’s numerous private bedrooms.

She had done her duty as High Lady of Night, walking around the hall, ice blue gown sashaying around her legs as revellers congratulated her on the arrival of her own child.

Feyre had smiled and thanked them but she tired easily after Nyx’s traumatic birth and it wasn’t long before she sought out the fur-decked chaise longue tucked in one of enclaves on the far wall.

As Feyre made her way towards it, movement from the corner on her right drew her attention.

Nesta was standing by another enclave, glass in hand, virulently shaking her head. Nesta’s golden-brown hair had been braided into a complex knot adorned with diamonds which caught the fae lights and casted shapes on the ceiling. It had been this that captured Feyre’s eye.

“No,” Nesta said, “I don’t think so.” She smoothed down a non-existent crease on her dress, a pale grey-blue that shimmered like mist over ice, ever changing.

The male she was speaking to was some high-ranking courtier from Winter who Feyre had been introduced to earlier that evening but whose name escaped her. He was tall and handsome enough, gazing at her sister with sapphire blue eyes, but Nesta’s demeanour suggested nothing other than sheer boredom.

Cassian emerged from the crowds, seemingly drawn to what was happening in the corner of the room like a moth towards a flame, his body screaming nothing but fury. Still, he interjected himself between Nesta and the Winter male with a decorum Feyre felt he should be proud of. His fists were clenched and his jaw twitched as he ground his teeth but there was no violence. Yet.

Feyre moved quickly to them.

Side by side there was no contest that Cassian was the larger, broader and less refined male. He wore scuffed Illyrian leathers and the most he’d done for the event was clean his hair and tie it back.

The courtier wore ivory silk brocade strewn with pearls and viewed Cassian up and down with a sneer.

“And who, exactly, are you?”

Cassian spat out his answer, “Her mate and husband and your executioner – you are?”

“Ah yes,” Rhys said. “The naming ball. Was it just the one dance Nesta performed before she had the males panting over her?”

“Still,” Feyre said, “that one was the easiest to smooth over. No one was killed. Or maimed.”

“I think the proposal with Chrysos was when Cassian was aware this was going to be a repeat issue,” Az said.

Chrysos stood before them, undulating between the visage of a male and of something else, something other – possibly human but not quite. His skin was translucent and his gold blood ran through his veins, clear to their eyes, like streaks in white marble.

He was horrifying and beautiful and Feyre struggled to tear her eyes away.

“I must marry you,” he said, directing his words to Nesta. Chrysos’ voice echoed around the cave chamber, strangely melodic, a harmony of angels singing in chorus, one voice on top of another. “I shall make you my Queen and take you into the darkness where we shall make the sweetest music and-”

Nesta’s shoulders sagged, energy sapped from her as she gave a frustrated sigh.

“What the fuck?!”

Feyre jumped at Cassian’s yell, the noise bouncing from the tops of the cave to the bottom, deep into the darkest part and back again.

“Seriously! For fucks sake, I am standing right here!”

Rhys chuckled. “That ended quick enough if I remember?”

“We were on a recruitment mission though, we wanted him on our side,” Az said, “not dead.”

“Cassian maintains he slipped.”

“From six feet away?”

“Yes.”

“With his sword aloft?”

“I didn’t think the proposal in Summer was too bad,” interrupted Feyre, now with Nyx resting against her shoulder so she could pat his back with soothing circles.

The party on Tarquin’s barge was held at the height of the season the Court was most famous for.

The weather was idyllic; sunshine beating down on Feyre’s skin, endless blue skies stretching ahead while a cool ocean breeze drifted from the teal waters teaming with coral. Dolphins pranced in the frothy waves around them, shimmering and shining, their scales a rosy pink.

“Look, Nyx, look!” Feyre held her cooing baby high, pointing the dolphins out to his curious violet eyes.

The barge moved at a comfortable pace and again, like all parties the High Lords arranged, the music, food and wine flowed. Guests streamed from the top desk to the lower one and lower still when they felt like taking to the private cabins, the heat in the air turning into heat in the blood.

The decks were vast enough to not see the same individuals constantly but small enough to see them often and Feyre had smiled every time she walked past a relaxed Cassian and Nesta.

On their first stroll about the deck, Nyx had been awake and grinning, Nesta peppering his small face with a flood of kisses that had him squealing and his limbs flailing with joy. Cassian had joked about knowing his place in the pecking order and Nesta smiled at him in turn.

Cassian’s hair was tied back into a loose bun, strands of black hair falling past his jaw. It was too hot for leathers and, with his white linen shirt with sleeves rolled up to expose the black tattoos on his arms, he was the most casual Feyre had ever seen him.

Nesta stunned in a dress of blue which started ice blue at her shoulders before blending into a shade so dark at the hem it was almost black. The front was a demure and delicately scalloped neckline but Nesta’s back was entirely bare, held up by invisible straps.

Multiple pairs of eyes glanced their way but Nesta’s hand never left Cassian’s and his free one travelled the length of her spine dipping beyond the fabric at her lower back.

You’re borderline indecent, Feyre told them with pretend outrage and continued to walk the deck.

The second time Feyre passed them, they had been talking to Tarquin and Feyre only caught a brief snippet of their conversation, trying to settle a now restless Nyx against her shoulder.

“One apology,” Tarquin had said, “that was my mother’s favourite building.”

On Feyre’s third pass, Nyx now in Rhys’ arms, Tarquin had gone. In his place stood a fae Feyre didn’t recognise.

“I had turned away for a couple of seconds,” Cassian said, his hands in fists, “and you thought this was your opportunity to sneak in here like a panting-”

“Cassian,” Nesta warned, “we don’t want another incident in this Court.”

“Well, there will be one if this prick doesn’t move out of here. We’ll see how he fares with my foot up his as-”

“Cassian!”

“She’s married and mated. Can’t you see the matching rings? Can’t you smell the mate bond?”

The high fae nodded his head, “Yes, but...”

“But? But what?! That’s it,” Cassian said, “we’re leaving this fucking party.”

Rhys and Az stared at Feyre as she burped Nyx, their mouths open.

“What?” she asked.

“You didn’t think it was too bad?” Rhys said, his voice incredulous.

Feyre shrugged, “No one died and no wars were started.”

“They’d only just removed the ban on Cassian to have to enforce it again.”

“I don’t think the second ban was fair though.”

“Feyre, darling. He destroyed the barge.”

“We spent hours fishing everyone out of the sea,” Az said. “Then we had to work out where Nesta’s unfortunate suitor had landed after Cassian threw him towards the cliff.”

“Wasn’t he clinging onto the side of the rockface?”

“Yes.”

“And didn’t Cassian destroy another building in his haste to get away?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” Feyre said, frowning. “So maybe it was bad.”

“I quite liked the proposal from Locuples,” Az said, “that was the best for all involved. No one died and we ended up with a pretty good trade agreement.”

“Oh, I remember that,” said Feyre, “I was here when Nesta and Cassian came back.”

Feyre and Az had been in the grand room, as they were now, sitting opposite each other in companiable silence. Steam from their tea cups swirled in the air and Feyre gazed out the windows at the white clouds over the city.

“What the-?”

Feyre’s head snapped round, surprised at the uncharacteristic shock in Az’s voice. He stared towards the door archways and Feyre followed his eyeline.

Cassian and Nesta had returned, surprisingly quietly, as she hadn’t heard them land on the roof. Or perhaps, looking at the display in front of her, they’d travelled by some other means.

Nesta sat on a throne on an open topped litter, carried by two lithe creatures who were more shadow and smoke than real and whose feet never touched the ground. Nesta herself, bedecked with jewels, a tiara and clutching a sceptre, wore an expression of confusion.

Cassian followed on foot, wings tersely tucked in, heaving a trunk filled with gold, jewellery, silks, furs and bottles which wafted exotic scents.

Cassian glanced at them from the corner of his eye, “Don’t ask.”

“I thought we expected this to be a hostile negotiation?”

“I said don’t ask.”

“We still receive gifts on a monthly basis,” Feyre said and slid to the floor to lay a barely awake Nyx on the soft furs - one of those aforementioned gifts. She traced a thumb on the arch of his foot and watched it curl, his lips smacking in contentment.

Feyre swore the floorboards underneath him adjusted to accommodate his shape.

“Don’t you receive monthly gifts from Helion as well?” Rhys asked. “Or did Cassian put a stop to that?”

“Cassian put a stop to that one,” Az said.

“Doesn’t Nesta still have the first gift though?”

Az groaned and placed his scarred hands over his eyes. “Yes, and I cannot express how much upkeep it takes.”

Feyre smiled, “Oh, I remember that one too.”

The shriek took Feyre by surprise and she leapt from her chair, readying herself for action. It was only seconds before she realised it wasn’t a shriek of pain but one of sheer, childlike joy.

Once again, her and Az were in the House and, once again, she hadn’t heard the arrival of the House’s other permanent occupants.

“In the name of the Mother,” Az breathed and, in what was a familiar pattern, Feyre turned to where he was looking. This time, instead of Az looking towards the doorway, he was staring outwards at the windows.

Nesta, clad in her leathers and with windswept hair was sat astride a glorious white winged horse, her black leather a stark contrast to the white of the creature she sat upon.

“Someone find Gwen and Emerie! They need to know about this; they need to come here!”

With another shriek of joy and a gentle nudge to the horse’s sides Nesta rose higher, the wings of the horse flapping with enthusiasm, happy to appease its new owner.

There was a sigh from behind them and Feyre and Az turned. Cassian leant against the doorframe, fingers rubbing his temples.

“Cass... isn’t that Helion’s last and most prized flying horse?”

“Please – do not ask.”

“That thing is a nightmare,” Az said, “it eats everything, likes very few fae and can somehow find its way into the House in the dead of night. Do you know how terrifying it is to wake to find a winged horse hovering over you demanding sugar cubes while stealing your blanket? I can’t live like this.”

Feyre shot him a sympathetic smile while Rhys laughed. In the brief silence which followed, Feyre could hear the rhythmic banging echoing its way through the house.

“Aren’t they done yet?”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

“At least it will be over soon.”

“Nope.”

“Oh.”

“You think this is bad?” Az said, “You weren’t here after the proposal with the Peregryn.”

To Feyre, the Dawn Court was one of the most beautiful. Its shades of gold and red weren’t bright or ostentatious but were the softer golds found in the rising sun, the reds not vermillion or scarlet but something akin to a dusky rose.

Every town held a thousand clock-towers, every hand matching perfectly, the chimes on the hour synching in a glorious song, calling to the skies in praise of a new day, of promises to be made, of joy to come.

The peace of that particular morning had been broken by the shouts of males, all raised in the ecstatic spirit of competition. Nothing violent or aggressive but it spoke to Feyre of knuckles and bone crunching all the same.

She’d pushed her way to the front of a crowd, the fae recognising her and making room for her to pass. A fighting circle had broken out in a section of the town square, cheers raising into the air as one of the fighters scored a blow.

In the circle stood two males, both tall and broad, barefooted and bare-chested. One had wings similar to the Pegasus which Nesta now owned, white and gold-feathered, and the other had wings as black as night, the rising sun highlighting veins and patches of amber.

A female was eagerly watching them, a female Feyre shoved past fae to move next to.

“Nesta! Why is Cassian sparring with a Peregryn?”

Nesta didn’t tear her eyes from the males. “Some old nonsense about fighting for the right to take my hand.”

Cassian landed a punch to his opponent’s jaw, the crack reverberating through the air as the crowd cheered on.

Sweat trickled down Cassian’s own jaw and onto his neck. His muscles were strained, his abdomen contracting. As the fighters turned positions, his back faced Feyre, black tattoos against dark skin, his shoulder blades gleaming with oil.

Feyre glanced at Nesta who was dressed in a pale peach dress adorned with pearls, her hair up but with soft stands framing her face. She would have looked a wholesome picture of innocence if not for her darkening eyes.

“Shouldn’t you stop this?”

“Probably.”

“Are you going to?”

Nesta’s eyes flickered from the top of Cassian’s head down his back and then, as the fighter’s moved again, to his stomach where they lingered on the trail of hair leading down to the waistband of his trousers. She sighed.

“A few more minutes.”

Feyre blinked as if she could rid herself of the memory. “I can only imagine.”

“If I didn’t visit the river house for dinner I would have starved. The House had to perform a deep clean.”

The walls shook in what was akin to a shudder.

“The bard was wholesome enough,” Rhys said.

Az groaned, “And yet ridiculous.”

In a concerted effort to apologise to the Courts on behalf of the behaviour of some Inner Circle members during previous gatherings, Feyre and Rhys had invited the High Lords and their significant others to Starfall.

The House remained still, either curious as to who all the guests were or silently sulking that there were guests at all.

The tang of a rich red wine was on Feyre’s tongue, not from anything she had drunk, but from a stolen kiss from Rhys, under the night sky, in a moment solely theirs before it became everyone else’s.

The night was filled with laughter and talking and Feyre slid into the embrace of her mate, content in the knowledge that Nyx slumbered underneath the watchful eye of the House’s nursery, a room which hadn’t existed before this very evening.

Her heart hurt, but in a good way, as though each chamber was bursting with a joy they couldn’t contain and her happiness spilled out into every corner of the rooftop.

Azriel was intently speaking with Nesta’s red-haired friend while Elain watched on from a distance, either not aware of, or ignoring, her own red-haired watcher.

Amren and Mor stood amongst another group, Mor’s golden hair cascading down her back like a waterfall and near the balcony was Cassian and Nesta, pressed side by side, hand in hand as they gazed upwards, Cassian pointing to a constellation.

Nesta glanced at him as he spoke, her face softening in a way Feyre never thought possible, a smile on her lips. When Cassian looked back at her, to check her understanding of what he was saying, he brought their intertwined hands up to his mouth, to kiss her fingertips.

Feyre smiled, all was well and all would continue to be well. That was until a voice, clear and resolute, spoke out into the crowd.

“My High Lords and Ladies and Paramor’s, I am a bard from the Spring Court – famed as the best in all the Courts!”

Chatter drifted into murmurs as heads turned expectedly to the fae now standing in the centre. Feyre noted his lute fixed upon his waistband but the bard made no attempt to reach for it.

“I have travelled across the land, coming to the Court of the High Lord and High Lady of Night with one purpose and one purpose only – to serenade with tales of fortune and love!”

A ripple of anticipation broke out amongst the crowd to hear such songs and Feyre turned to Rhys. “Did you arrange this?” but his face was twisted in confusion.

“I dedicate my melodies to one female, one who understands music as though her very bones were formed by the notes. My song to you, Lady Nesta and also my hand in marri-”

“FUCKS SAKE!”

Feyre let out a sigh. “I felt so sorry for the bard. He must have seen Nesta on one of her visits. To think, he spent all those weeks travelling on foot to arrive to the House and then Cassian threatens to dangle him from the roof.”

“Cassian did dangle him from the roof.”

“No one’s going to invite us to any more parties,” said Rhys with a sorrowful sigh.

“I think we can handle an overly amorous high fae or two,” Az said, “it’s the demons which worry me.”

“They’re no cause for concern,” Rhys said with a wave of his hand. “In fact, we have a valuable asset on our side. Drag Nesta in front of them and it tends to shut them up.”

Feyre frowned. “That is my sister you’re deciding to use as romantic bait. Besides, the issue we had with the Caligo demon was that it didn’t stop talking. There was such a mess.”

Screams filled Feyre’s ears as terrified Night Court citizens ran past her, almost a blur.

Tears streaked down terror-stricken faces as they grabbed the arms of their loved ones and scooped up children too small or young to so anything other than shiver and cry.

Cracks appeared in the ground beneath their feet, the cobbles of the street twisting and turning before jutting upwards like the jagged, sharpened edges of broken bone. The air was thick with acrid smoke which stung Feyre’s eyes causing them to stream with the tears she saw running down her people’s faces.

Rhys was to her right. Or that’s what she hoped. He had been standing but he’d gasped in pain and then she no longer saw him through the gaps in the cloud. When she managed to glimpse him, he was on his knees, thick red blood pouring down his face from a cut on his scalp.

Feyre choked back a sob and clambered over the rips in the earth to reach him.

Steel clashed with steel in the darkness, the shouts of Cassian and Azriel tearing through the blackness as they pressed forward. A shimmer of magic absorbed as much of the darkness away as it could and created a halo around the members of the Inner Circle.

Hands, strong and steady, circled Feyre’s waist and Nesta held her up, helped her over the torn earth.

“I am destroyer,” the thing hissed. “I am consumer, I am flesh ripper and soul tearer and I-”

It turned, watching them all, gloating in their misery and gorging itself fat on their pain. One of its bulbous eyes slid to where they stood, Feyre leaning into Nesta’s side. Her sister’s hair was dishevelled, her arms smeared with blood but Nesta’s eyes remained cold and hard upon the demon.

“And I – oh, oh, you are spectacular.”

A roar ripped through the darkness; a bellowing from powerful lungs as the words of the creature reached the ears of all present.

“Absolutely fucking not!”

Cassian advanced from the void, red siphons blazing as though he were shrouded in flame. “I am her mate; I am her husband and I suggest you put those sloping tongues back into your mouth or Mother help me...”

Feyre swallowed the rising bile. She tried not to think about the events of that night, though she didn’t know what was worse – that night or now, with the thumping above their heads gaining momentum.

“He got the job done,” Rhys said and then smirked, “and he’s doing the same now from the sounds of it.”

“Rhys!” Feyre admonished and placed her hand on Nyx’s stomach to calm herself. “Why do you think he puts up with it?” she asked Az.

“What choice does he have? Besides, he loves and trusts her. There’s no one for him but her and no one for her but him.”

“Disgusting,” Rhys said with slight mockery to his tone.

“No,” Feyre said, “what’s disgusting is the head in the corner.” She eyed up the lump that had once been somethings head; the glassy eyes, the bloodied stump. She wouldn’t relish touching the thing but she would happily remove herself out of earshot of Nesta and Cassian’s post proposal love affirmation. “Where do I take it?”

“The House created a trophy room three doors down,” Az said.

Anguis’ mouth hung open, razor sharp rotted teeth all lined up on display. Feyre felt a slither of pity. “I’ll take it there.”

“No, Feyre darling, I’ll do it.”

Feyre breathed a sigh of relief and nodded before turning to Az. “Shall we wait for them to be done? We need to discuss the next mission which is rather sensitive.”

Az shook his head, “No, you may as well go home. It was a proposal so they’re not stopping until – what day is it now, Thursday? – they’re not going to be fit for purpose until Monday.”

Rhys, still lounging, stretched out into the space Feyre previously occupied. “We can’t wait that long.”

“Do you want to volunteer to interrupt them?

“No.”

Feyre glanced between them both. “Cassian did look rather sad.”

Azriel laughed again, the sound echoing throughout the room, his head thrown back. “Don’t pity Cassian, he knows what he’s doing.”

“And Nesta falls for it?”

“No, she definitely doesn’t fall for it.”

“But isn’t she in their chambers um...reassuring him?”

“Yes.”

Feyre bit her lip, “So surely...”

“Oh Mother,” Az rubbed his hand across his face. “It’s their form of twisted foreplay. When Nesta received a proposal from – well, I can’t remember which one, I came home early and almost went blind. Have none of you questioned the indoor swing?”

Feyre’s voice was quiet when she spoke, scooping up her son into her arms with haste. “I thought they were creating an inside playground.”

“Ah,” Az said, his voice soft, “not quite.”

The thumping reached its crescendo and blessedly, stilled.

“Oh, thank the Mother,” Rhys said, “they’re done after all. Az, go retrieve them. We need to discuss the next mission.”

“Why me?”

“You live here.”

“You’re the High Lord.”

Feyre looked around her, Nyx clutched in her arms. “I think the floor is sloping us out towards the door.”

“I don’t think so Feyre, darling.”

“No really, the head - which you said you’d deal with by the way - is rolling away.”

Feyre wasn’t imagining what was happening, she’d passed under the entrance to the room, Rhys and Az’s chairs beginning to follow.

“This happens,” Az said with a calmness Feyre didn’t feel. “Usually when they don’t want anyone to overhear the next part of their ‘Nesta got proposed to again’ sex marathon.”

“Why? What could they now be planning that’s so much worse?”

“I don’t know,” Az replied, “the House always shuffles me out at this point. One time I was trying to prep my knives and almost stabbed myself in the eye.”

“Right,” said Rhys, “I think we can walk out of here without a sentient lump of stone forcing us to. Which,” he said with an eye to the steepness of the floor angle, “is completely within its’ right.”

Feyre nestled a snoring Nyx into one arm as Rhys helped her up. Az was already on his feet, out the door and into the hallway before he got flattened by an oversized, burgundy armchair.

He turned to them both.

“So, where’s the next mission to anyway? Where are you sending our glorious Lady Death and Lord of Bloodshed and can I sit it out?”

Feyre and Rhys exchanged glances. “I think we might need you in attendance,” Feyre said.

Az raised an eyebrow. “Well, I know King Lascivus is causing some problems with his tithe but as long as you weren’t planning on sending us to his palace, it will be fine. He’s famous for his side hobby of trying to find a muse to depict as the Mother in his artworks. Borderline obsessed.”

Feyre cleared her throat, “Sounds like he’s fervently religiously devout.”

“Hardly. The issue isn’t him trying to depict the Mother but that he’s spent centuries convincing everyone that she needs to be represented in her naked glory and I quote ‘with the petals of her flower fully opened.’”

Rhys coughed and moved fast down the hallway towards the roof entrance his wings already forming.

“Rhys!” Feyre called out. “You know I can’t run when I’m holding the baby!”

Az’s voice was quiet. “Feyre?”

“You know we love you,” she said, not meeting his hazel eyes, “and you’re always welcome at the river house. For as long as you want, whether that’s weeks or months.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “I swear on the Cauldron, if you need to you can stay for centuries.”

“Feyre?”

She turned and didn’t look back, picking up her own speed to follow Rhys, ignoring the quiver in Az’s tone.

“We love you Az,” she shouted over her shoulder, propping Nyx into a position ready for flight as the House opened its doors to hasten her exit. “Always remember that.”

TAGGING

@live-the-fangirl-life

@champanheandluxxury

@dontgetsalmonella

@purpleglitterypinecone

#nessian #fanfiction #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #nesta #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #i wrote something #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nessian fan fiction #nessianfic #nesta archeron x cassian #nessian fan fic #the perils of being mr nesta archeron

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fific7 · 3 years

Text

Even His Name - Part 1

Sirius Black x OC

Summary: Friends forever? Maybe. Maybe not.

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, slight consent issues, 18+ please due to NSFW content including unprotected* sex. The age of consent in the UK is 16, sorry if that’s not in line with the laws in your own country/state.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

A/N: Looking at this photo, I can kinda see why Ben Barnes got fancast as Sirius Black. This story is non-canon and takes place in my imaginary HP AU with OC, Celeste (meaning celestial or heavenly).

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Sirius Black. Even his name was beautiful.

She watched his tall, lean figure approaching as she sat & relaxed against one of the shady trees beside the lake.

She drank in every last detail before he got too close, before her out-and-out staring was noticeable to him.

The lazily slouching but graceful walk, his long legs eating up the distance between them.

The pale, porcelain-like skin, the aristocratic cheekbones, the trendy light scruff of moustache with matching scruff along his jawline, the full sensuous lips, the famed long black wavy hair. And of course, those hypnotic grey eyes, ringed by long dark lashes. Those eyes could change like mercury, from silver to dark pewter within a heartbeat.

As he got got closer, her eyes almost totally closed, but she wasn’t dozing off, it was a ruse to disguise her intense staring. Her eyes continued to eat him up like he was a very large chocolate eclair.

It was Saturday, so no school uniform. Trademark bad-boy attire, then. Her heart sped up at the sight of the scuffed leather biker jacket, the Led Zeppelin t-shirt, distressed jeans & leather work boots. Not properly laced up... of course.

All in black, a living embodiment of his name.

She heaved a long sigh, letting it escape without thought, and her eyes closed fully.

She was aware of a shadow blocking the sunlight falling on her closed eyelids. The sound of somebody settling themselves down next to her, still partly casting a shadow onto her.

Her eyes opened a sliver, and her head rolled to the side towards him of its own accord.

“What’s the big sigh for, Celeste?” in his deep, slightly hoarse, breathy voice. The voice which sent a thousand female hearts beating like drums.

“Sirius.” She sighed again, her eyes opening slowly. “You’re blocking my sun.”

He grinned, chuckling. He gestured to his body with one hand, “This ... masterpiece... of a man joins you for a pleasant interlude by the lake, and all you can say is that I’m blocking your rays?!”

“Yeah.”

He chuckled again. “Ah c’mon, you know you love me.”

She rolled her head back to its original position. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“And maybe it’ll come true?” he smirked.

“When hell freezes over.”

He leant over, placing his head on her shoulder as he did so, puppy dog eyes in play, complete with pouted bottom lip.

“Now, you know that isn’t true. You’re desperate to get me into the sack.”

“But, Sirius,” she said innocently, “there wouldn’t be enough room in the bed for me, what with you and your massive ego already in it.”

His head shot back, his unmistakable & glorious barking laugh issuing forth & attracting the attention of every female within earshot.

“You’re hysterical,” he continued laughing, more quietly. “No, I’m Celeste,” she smirked, throwing her version of his favourite line back at him.

He groaned, “You’d use my own comeback against me? Really?”

“Every time,” she nodded.

He was grinning back at her, when she was suddenly aware of another shadow falling across her. She frowned involuntarily, looking up to see who it was. A tall Ravenclaw girl stood there, confidently smirking down at Sirius. She didn’t spare his current companion even a glance.

“Hi,” she smiled brightly at him. “Thought you’d maybe like to take a walk with me, Siri?” giving him a suggestive sideways look, all the while twirling a strand of her long brown hair round a finger.

Celeste rolled her eyes, smirking & tutting loudly. She muttered, “Pathetic,” under her breath & began to gather her books, getting ready to ‘exit stage left’.

Sirius looked over at her, smiling and laying his hand on her arm, stilling her movement.

He looked up at the other girl. “Sorry, love,” he said with a grin, “spending some one-on-one time with my best girl here.”

She still didn’t look at his ‘best girl’. “Well, why don’t I just join you here while you do that, and then we can go for a walk by ourselves afterwards?”

Sirius looked down, and Celeste knew what was coming next. He’d given her his polite brush-off, now here came the not-so-polite one.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said? I’m here with Celeste,” he said, voice harsh, glaring back up at her.

She stopped twirling that lock of hair, recoiling from his glare & tone. “Well, you know, I just thought...”

“You just thought wrong then, didn’t you! Now, run along dear, off you go.” Voice cold, eyes narrowed.

She turned on her heel and scuttled back to her little band of giggling friends. Something told Celeste that her friends wouldn’t be all that sympathetic. If there was one thing almost guaranteed to break up friendship groups, it was who did, or didn’t have, Sirius’ attention.

Celeste laughed, “Lordy, I don’t know how you put up with all that fangirling.... ‘Siri’.” she imitated the girl in a high-pitched tone. “They make me ashamed to be a woman. Don’t they have any self-respect?!”

Sirius laughed, “But Cel, they’re just rightfully worshipping ... this!” Again, one hand gesturing up & down the length of his body.

“What.. a skinny boy?” she questioned, looking him up & down, “Really? What’s the attraction then?” she laughed.

He’d sat up straight as she’d been speaking, faux offended. “Celeste! How could you? Firstly, I am a man, not a boy.”

“Sirius, you’re sixteen. You.. are.. a.. boy!”

“Nah, nah, nah! I.. am.. a.. man!” dramatically emulating her slow delivery before continuing, “And I’m nearly seventeen. Secondly, I am not skinny. I’m tall and athletic.”

“Skinny.”

“Athletic!”

She laughed. “You don’t even play Quidditch any more. So where do you get this ‘athleticism’ from? Running away from Filch and the prefects after a prank?!”

“Thank you for answering your own question!” he said, laughing back at her.

He again leant towards her, eyes boring into hers, changing to dark & stormy mode, lips so close that she felt the little huffs of his breath on her own lips as he spoke.

“Don’t fight it, Cel. Just give in and admit you want me! We’ll head to my dorm right now and spend the entire night together, having hot, sensual, sheet-tangling sex!”

She burst out laughing, turning away momentarily, eager to break the close proximity to him. “The gods love a trier, Sirius. Pity I don’t.” She looked back at him, “And no doubt one of your fangirls is already curled up under your quilt, just waiting on the god that is Sirius Black to arrive and rock her world!!”

“My bed is exclusively reserved for you.”

“OK... curled up in her bed then, waiting on Mr I Never Stay The Night to arrive.”

“You pierce my heart!”

“Sirius, you may be one of my closest friends, but I can honestly say that you, within just the last few weeks, have become a total man-whore. And a barely legal one at that.”

“Celeste!! Just bloody well admit you want me.”

“Can’t that huge ego of yours handle the fact that there’s at least one girl in this school who doesn’t drop her panties the second you look at her?!” her laughter pealed out over the surrounding area, catching the attention of and sparking the venomous jealousy of the Sirius Fangirls’ Club.

He also burst out laughing, inciting the Fangirls even more.

“Ah.... Cel, my ego is perpetually the size of a peanut whenever you’re around.” Innocence personified, wide grey eyes gazed at her. “It never gets the chance to grow any bigger.”

Then the trademark smirk appeared. “Unlike a certain other part of my anatomy.” One eyebrow quirked up at her, long fingers slinking down onto his jeans zip. She couldn’t stop her eyes following them. His lips slid upwards into a pleased grin.

“Urggghhh!” she groaned, closing her eyes briefly before starting to pack up her stuff. “On that note, I’m off!”

“Awww, don’t go! This was just about to get interesting. You almost agreed to give me a quick blowjob!”

She stood up, brushing grass off her denim cutoffs and slipping on her low wedge sandals. Sirius raked his eyes up and down her figure as she did so.

She leant back down to him, knowing full well that he was getting an eyeful down her tastefully low-cut frilly top. She had on a translucent lacy bra, and she heard his breath catch as soon as he spotted it.

Putting her lips right next to his ear, she said, “Firstly, I don’t give blowjobs to sixteen-year-old skinny boys.” She huffed out a breath onto his earlobe, “And secondly, even if I did, it would.. not.. just be a quickie, darling.”

She pulled back and stood up straight, looking down at Sirius. A deep pink blush was spreading up from his neck over the entirety of his handsome face, his mouth hung slightly open and his eyes were wide, a glazed look in them.

She grinned, starting to walk away, “Have fun with the fangirls, Sirius!”

He was still staring after her when the first wave of girlies washed over him, clamouring for his attention in various tried, tested and (to him, at that moment) very tedious ways.

They were all to be disappointed. Sirius swatted them off like they were so many irritating mosquitoes, stretching out & lying on his back with his hands crossed under his head, staring up into the blue of the early autumn sky, deep in thought.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

She leisurely strolled back to the castle, sniggering to herself at how easy it had been to wind Sirius up into a tight spring.

Her smirk dropped somewhat though, when she contemplated the bigger picture. What a shitshow.

She was slap-bang in the middle of the biggest cliché the fates had ever created. Best friend really fancies best friend, but won’t admit it in case it either doesn’t work out and/or ruins the friendship. Yeah... that old chestnut.

Sighing, she made her way to the Gryffindor common room, spotting Lily and Mary on their favourite corner sofa. She plopped herself down next to them, instantly becoming enmeshed in the girlie gossip which was currently in progress.

However her mind drifted to the beginning of that school year, their sixth, when she and Sirius had met up again after the summer holidays on the Hogwarts Express. She’d been frankly amazed at the change in him after such a short time.

From awkward, gawky schoolboy to man-god in the space of a couple of months.

She learned from him that he’d run away from Grimmauld Place at the beginning of the holidays and was now living at the Potters’. She was very glad to hear that, knowing what he’d gone through at the hands of his parents. He certainly seemed to be thriving there, having apparently sprouted quite a bit over the summer.

Everything about him suddenly seemed long & slim. Long legs and arms, with big hands and big feet to match. Long slim fingers. Long slim feet & toes which she stared at, fascinated, every time she caught a glimpse of them.

She’d instantly known that their friendship would change in future. She’d never thought of Sirius as anything except a little schoolboy buddy, but over the summer he’d emerged from his post-pubescent chrysalis as a hot, sexy teenager with shoulder-length hair, designer stubble and attitude with a capital A.

He’d always attracted a fair bit of female attention over the years. He’d never really acted on it though, too caught up in Marauders mischief to care.

But holy hell...now? All the girlies were going to go batshit crazy over him.

He’d also - right there on the train no less! - boxed her into a corner and immediately started flirting up a storm, which had mildly terrified her. This was the guy who, only two months before, had been a kind of surrogate brother figure in her life for the previous 5 years.

Now he was making sexual innuendoes and inviting her into his bed every five minutes. She just couldn’t figure out his agenda.

As predicted, at the start of term, the Hogwarts female population - irrespective of year - quickly lined up behind Sirius and adoringly dogged his every footstep. As did a fair proportion of the male population, it has to be said.

Sirius quickly accepted his new-found godlike status & revelled in it. Flirting his way around school and through classes and meals. Getting caught in broom closets, empty classrooms and corridors, snogging for Britain.

It was only 4 weeks into the new term and she already found it all mildly disgusting. Hence she’d decided to knock the flirtatious idiot back down a peg or two every chance she got.

However, his flirting behaviour with her hadn’t dialled back at all, if anything it had increased, and this is what she was pondering on.

Her name was suddenly yelled right into her face. Lily was staring at her as if she was an alien.

“Uh, sorry - what?”

“We’ve been waiting on you to answer Mary’s question, for like, 15 minutes.”

“Oh shut up! I just zoned out for a minute or two.”

Mary sniggered, “And no prizes for guessing who the subject matter of said zoning out was!!”

She sighed. “OK, OK, alright - yes - it was Sirius.”

Scoffing noises from her friends.

“Look - I just can’t get my head round the way he’s still behaving towards me. Flirting & shit.”

She shook her head, and continued, “This was my annoying little ‘school brother’ 3 months ago! So he’s either had a brain meltdown and actually fancies me, or else he’s practicing all that crap on me to then use on his fan girls! And let’s be honest, one reason’s as bad as the other!”

They both exchanged significant looks, grinning at each other.

She huffed, “What’s wrong now?! I’ve just told you what’s on my mind!”

“Can you, hand on heart, swear you don’t fancy the pants off Sirius?” asked Lily.

“Look, I can see why girls find him attractive, yeah. But you’re forgetting that for five years, he was...”

“Yeah, yeah,” interrupted Mary, rolling her eyes, “..your surrogate little brother.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@omgrachwrites

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

#sirius black x reader #ben barnes #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #ben barnes as sirius black #sirius black #sirius black fan fic

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vemuabhi · 3 years

Text

Amusement park Date - 1000 ch special!

Hey everyone! This is my celebration for One piece 1000 chapter!

Monster Trio + Ussop

ONE PIECE UNIVERSE

Scenarios where Character and Reader go on a date to Amusement Park on an island

special Law and Kidd Here (Clickable)

LUFFY

I shifted again as I tried to sleep. I don’t know why I’m not able to sleep but because of my shifting I woke my dear boyfriend accidently. He murmured, “What happened Y/N? Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Oh dear, I am sorry for waking you up Luffy. I wasn’t able to sleep so I was shifting. Sorry again”, I apologised to him and he placed his hand on one of my cheek as he said, “Don’t apologise, its ok. Are you hungry? Is your hunger making you not sleep? Trust me I’ve faced that.”

I chucked and said, “Yes love, I know you faced it but, I am not hungry. I am just not able to fall asleep.”

Luffy hummed as he closed his eyes trying to think of something but instead I could see his head getting Red as a side effect. He sighed as he opened his eyes and looked at me and added, “I have never faced any other situation, other than that…”, he said in a defeated tone making me smile at his cuteness. “But! I guess if we do this, you can sleep”, he said as he wrapped his arms around me and got very close. He had his classic beautiful smile while he cuddled me.

“I am sure you can fall asleep like this”, he said and smiled widely making me giggle. He was having the perfect temperature and had the smell of delicious Sanji’s cooking.

“This really helps. Thank you love”, I smiled and pecked his cheek as he giggled.

“Then let’s sleep, we should go out to explore the new island”, he said as he pulled me closer and continued, “And… maybe go… on a date…”, with that Luffy fell asleep. My cheeks turned pink and I smiled at how

“Yes Captain!”, I replied. We cuddled as I thought about how amazing our date would be. With the comfort Luffy was giving in his warm hug, it was all I needed for falling asleep peacefully.

As for the date, we both got on different types of rides mostly the scary ones and didn’t even miss one single food stall. Luffy stopped at every single food stall as he wanted to eat all food items available. I was also keeping company to Luffy as he ate.

Suddenly Luffy stretched his neck and came closer to me. I gulped at the sudden closeness. It was a surprise and my heart started beating faster.

“Y/N… you”, Luffy said as I blinked and continued, “Have food on your face”, with this he leaned in and pecked my cheek dangerously close to my lips, where the food was and said, “We don’t want that to waste right”.

‘Oh god Save me’, I thought as covered my flushed face…

After a while I came across a small competition where people were arm wrestling. As I looked at it, I felt a chill run down my spine with excitement. Luffy was still busy stuffing his mouth with food in a stall few meters away.

“Luffy! Come here”, I call Luffy and he stretched and came to my side in a second.

“Will you participate in it”, I asked Luffy as I pointed at the competition.

“Woah! Seems fun!”, Luffy Exclaimed as he jumped onto the stage. There stood a huge guy who couldn’t be beaten up till now as he faced Luffy. According to now, he should be defeated in order to win the competition.

The jerk smirked as Luffy sat in the opposite side of his. He was underestimating Luffy and I really hated that. I know Luffy wouldn’t lose but I still shouted, “LUFFY! WIN! YOU CAN WIN”, luffy smirked and I succeeded in making sure everyone in the place heard it and even draw attention to the place. Everyone’s eyes were on the match as both contestants sat opposite to each other.

“Osu!”, Luffy said as he positioned his arm, and in one swift move, my Luffy got the opponents arm down with a bonus of crashing the jerks complete body to the hard floor of the stage, even making the floor break.

Seeing the scene in front of me, I jumped up the stage and hugged Luffy as he returned my hug and complained, “It wasn’t that hard… boo”, he pouted like a child and I chuckled looking at his face.

We got the trophy and were enjoying so much but in the end….. Luffy accidentally broke one of the rides and we both ran from that scene with the rest of the crew. Anyhow that was sure one hell of a date and I loved it!

ZORO

Me and my boyfriend Zoro, go on a date to the amusement park which was pretty famous for the island we stopped on. We also wanted a break from the crew and spend some quality time together.

We both split from the crew and go for some rides. We enjoyed the roller coaster and did window shopping. Zoro won so many games and got prizes. But we purposely avoided the shooting games because we didn’t want to bump in with the crew now.

“Woah! This is amazing Zoro. You won so many things. Im so proud of you.”, I praised him and all he did was to grunt. Well he is happy and I can feel it.

I smiled at him as he bought me a snack. We both were looking at the stalls as we ate it. Then I saw a cute Lama in a claw machine.

“Awww look at that cute Lama. Can you win it Zoro?”, I pleaded my boyfriend as I gave him puppy eyes.

“Huff… you are such a trouble. Now tell me what you want”, he said as he grinned looking at the claw machine. I grinned as I showed him the Lama which I wanted.

Then… Zoro for the first time in being in the amusement park… lost.

After some time

“Babe stop! Its fine if we don’t get it”, I tell my boyfriend as he tries for the 7th time to win the Lama plushie that I liked.

“No way! Ill win that stupid thing for you!”, Zoro grunted as he lost for the 7th time.

“I really appreciate it Zoro but we are spending all of our money on this claw machine. We still need to see all the other stalls”, I tried to convince him but he wasn’t listening.

Zoro inserted the coin in the machine and got the 8th loss. He was emitting violet and black fumes. He wasn’t going to give up that easily… even after the 22nd time of losing. He was barely keeping his swords away from cutting down the machine. I huffed as I look at my man who is really pissed now. I gently place my hand on his shoulder and say, “Babe… think of it all as your experience. Now use all of it in this game. I am sure you’ll win it this time.”

Zoro took a deep breath and closed his eye. He stayed still for couple of seconds and opened his eye as he got back to the machine. He looked sharply at the Lama plushie and took the handle and pushed it back and froth as he aligned it to the Lama.

“I’m going to get the stupid toy that you liked at all costs”, with this he hit the red button which enabled the Grip for the toy.

As everyone says… 23rd time is the charm, Zoro won the plushie at last!! I was too exited so I just jumped and wrapped my arms around his neck. Zoro took the toy and gave it to me.

“Trust me Zoro, this is the best gift ever because it represents all your hard work and passion of yours.”, I said as I kissed his lips. He blushed and huffed as he said, “Of..of course I said I’d win for you. There is no way I would lose to this dumb game.” He said as he happily took my hand and started to walk away from the machine.

We see Sanji coming towards us. “Hey Sanji! Look at this Lama, Zoro won it for me!”, I proudly showed my plushie to him as he smiled back at me.

“That’s so good! Well done Marimo! So you too can be nice to your lover”, Sanji said as he went towards the machine.

“I don’t need to hear it from you, love cook. So you trying to win huh”, Zoro stayed still looking at Sanji.

“I… I do want to get some toys”, Sanji replied as he played the machine and also… got the stuff toy in the… First try. He inserted the second coin and played as he won… the second time. I was watching Sanji awestruck I didn’t realise Zoro let go of my hand. Then the third win and during the fourth time Sanji won two toys at the same time.

“Woah! See two at a time!”, he said as he walked towards us and gave me a toy and said, “I need to give Nami san and Robin chan also… So I’ll go now”, Sanji said.

“Wait Sanji!”, I stopped Sanji and asked, “How… did you win in a row?”

To which he smiled and said, “Ah! About that… there is a hack where we push the button two times, we will definitely get the toy. Well technically I didn’t say I wanted to win, I just wanted get the toy”, with that he left.

“Babe did you hear”, I turned my head to my side and Zoro wasn’t there. Then I heard, “ONI-”, I looked in the direction and it was too late to stop Zoro, as I saw my man give one blow to the machine, “-GIRI”, making it cut into pieces.

“Zoro…”, I managed to say and then the red lights started to blink with a sound coming from the machine.

“DIE YOU MACHINE! DIE!!!”, Zoro yelled at the machine as I took his arm and started to run away with my plushies held tightly in other hand. Zoro held my hand and with the other he held the bag of items he won in the games. We were being chased by many people and it was a mess but after we escaped and reached the ship, we both laughed at the situation.

XOXO

“Here you go”, said Sanji as he crouched down and handed the third plushie to the little raindeer.

“Ahh! Giving me this doesn’t make me happy you asshole”, Said the doctor as he did his happy dance making Sanji smile at him warmly.

SANJI

“HEY! OVER HERE!”, Sanji waved seeing me as I went towards the amusement park. We agreed to meet here for today’s date. Sanji wore a blue Hawaiian shirt and grey knee length shorts. It was a sunny island and was really warm. Sanji looked so different in this attire from his usual Dress shirt and coat. Not gonna lie he can pull off any type of outfit.

“Y/N! You look so cute!”, he cooed with a wide grin on his face. ‘Agh! I was supposed to compliment him first’, I scolded myself.

“Thankyou… you… you look handsome too”, I managed to let it out in a soft low voice but still he heard it. His eyes widened as his lips parted and his face flushed.

“Thankyou Y/N chan”, he thanked and offered me his hand. I smiled and took his hand as we both headed into the amusement park together. Sanji not once swooned over any other girl from the moment we both held hands.

We both shopped and took some photos together. We both got on slow and romantic rides as it was more romantic. We both played many games and Sanji trying to impress me, as if he hadn’t already done that, won all the games. I mean we were told to leave because he was way too good.

In the way I saw a Horror House. ‘Woah! Did I just get excited?!’, I stop Sanji from walking further and asked, “Sanji, can we go there please”, I pointed towards the Horror house.

Sanji looked at it and smirked as he said, “Yeah why not! Seems fun”. He seemed more excited than I was. Maybe it was because he was also missing the thrill. We walked quickly towards the horror house still my hand in his.

We go into the horror house with excitement. We go in and see some jump scares here and there… not very scary yet… there we go to a room filled with mirrors.

Then suddenly a man in clown costume comes into the room and the mirrors made reflections of him. This took me by surprise and I screamed as I hugged Sanji. He rubbed soothing circles on my back as he hugged me back instantly.

“Don’t get too close! She is scared now because of you”, he started to lecture the clown dressed man as he still hugged me and we left the room. ‘Well I know it’s a place to get scared but… he was so cute when he scolded that person because I was scared. Poor man… just did his job though’, I thought as I still hugged Sanji and explored the house more.

Whenever I got scared he turned his protective mode on and lectured the actors. They were too scared to say anything back and ran away from where they came from. Which never I guess never happened in this horror house before.

We both completed our turn and I was still feeling the adrenaline in my veins. That was actually a very scary horror house I’ve seen. I look at Sanji who was blushing and smiling. He asked, “Are you ok now Y/N?”

“Yeah… it was scary… though I guess you didn’t have much fun”, I said as I hung my head low. He placed his slender fingers on my chin and lifted my head up to face his. He smiled warmly at me and said, “It wasn’t scary to me but, I did love how you held me close to you and how you relied on me when you were scared.”, he said and I blushed. Then I noticed, we were in the same position even now and my blush even grew more. Yet…. I still didn’t want to let him go. I still held him close and I said, “Thankyou… Sanji”, with that he came closer and made our foreheads touch.

“I love you Y/N”, Sanji declared suddenly. His face was so close to mine and I could see the nervousness in his eyes.

“I love you too, you don’t have to be so nervous every time you say it”, I chuckled and he giggle. He pecked my nose and pulled back. He started to sway my hand as he indicated to continue the date. I obliged and we went to another game. ‘What did I even do to deserve him’, I thought as we continued our date.

USSOP

“Agh!! Ussop! C’mon! lets go. It’s a good day, we are on an island with theme park… I want to go on a date”, I nagged at my boyfriend who was in middle of making a new invention.

“Oh… ok then, lets go!”, Ussop says as he got up.

“That’s my baby”, I praise him as I ruffled his hair and he blushed ‘cause I called him Baby.

We both started to head to the theme park with hands linked. He was blushing the complete time. ‘Could he be anymore cuter?’, I thought as I enjoyed looking at my shy boyfriend.

“Ussop, lets eat something”, I turned to see my boyfriend who was already drooling at the sight of all the food stalls. He is a foodie and eats a lot, just… cant be compared to Luffy but he has potential.

“YES PLEASE!”, he said as he went to the stalls to eat. I chuckled when he just shoved a burger down his throat, but my smile was replaced by worry when he choked on it.

“BAKA USSOP! DON’T WORRY ME LIKE THAT!”, I scold him as he chugged down the water I handed him.

“….Sorry Y/N”, he apologises with puppy dog eyes of his which are hard to stay mad at. I huff and accept his apology. I took his hand in mine and dragged him to a scary ride.

“Wait.. Y/N…”, he said as I looked at him and see him placing his free hand on his chest and continued, “I think I’m getting the disease “Shouldn’t get on that ride” help me.” He even fake coughed and swayed back and forth to make it more dramatic. “Like I’d believe that… but keep up the acting. Good job”, I say as he dejectedly follows me while I drag him to the ride.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! SAVE MEEEEEE!!!!! I’M GONNA DIEEEEEEEEE!!!!!”, Ussop Yelled the complete ride while I yelled, “YAHOOOOOOO!!!!!! THISSSS IS CRAZYYYYYY!! I LOVE ITTTT!!!”

We both got down the ride as I beamed with happiness and said, “It was so much fun!”

I got no response from my boyfriend so I turned to look at him. He had this dark aura surrounding him. He even was mumbling something which wasn’t… a language I know. It even felt like his soul was leaving his body.

“Ussop… you okay dude?”, I ask him as I crouch down and hug him.

“I am surprised I’m even alive”, he said and returned my hug. He was acting so cute by snuggling against my neck, making me chuckle.

“No way that could kill you”, I place one hand under his arm and other on his waist and pull him up. He looks at me with his glossy eyes making my heart skip a beat.

“Ok ok ok… no more scary rides. I got it. So… lets go and play some games”, I suggest for which he happily nods.

We both go to the game stalls and I saw a shooting game. I stop in my tracks making Ussop to bump into me because he was walking behind me.

“Ouch! What happened Y/N? Why did you stop?”, he asked as I looks at the game I pointed. We both smirked as we looked at each other and headed towards it. Ussop takes a gun and starts to shoot perfectly and wins continuous prizes making me happy.

Suddenly I get a thought of getting a prize for him. So I place my hand on the gun and give coins to the person who was in in charge and take position. I fire the gun but it misses and again and again…. It was making my heart crush but I still wanted to win.

Looking at my sad face Ussop couldn’t help but step in. He gracefully placed his arms on the gun and pointed it to the target. We were in a position where he was basically back hugging me. It’s always me initiating hugs and kisses. So… this made me blush so hard. I was basically a tomato in Ussop’s arms. He pulls the trigger and shoots the target with ease, making me win for the first time.

I smile widely as I notice it. It was his doing but… it made me so happy.

“Y/N Look! You shot the target”, he says as he looks at my face. He notices how red my face was and how close we both were. This makes him blush hard. He slowly lets go of me. The man in charge of the game comes towards us and hands me the prize. He witnessed the moment and was also blushing.

I took the prize and handed it to my boyfriend but I hung my head low. I was too embarrassed to face him while I give it. He takes it with his shaky hands indicating he was also very nervous. I build up my courage, take his hand and start to walk with him to another game.

Ussop was very quiet but then he suddenly says, “I love you Y/N”, making me stop in my tracks. My heart beat increased. I turned around, looked at him and replied, “I love you too Ussop”.

We both smiled at each other and continued walking side by side with our hands linked. ‘Definitely the best date till now’, I thought as we walked back to the ship with lots of toys and prizes.

special Law and Kidd Here (Clickable)

I hope you all liked it! please like, reblog and comment! sorry for any mistakes

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lucky4in · 3 years

Text

Magic Interferes in New Orleans

Prompts from Piccadilly's book #3

Words used: ☆matriarch ☆throat ☆impossible ☆vinegar ☆apology ☆slice ☆microwave ☆raspberry ☆choose ☆snore

God! I can't take it. The dread is killing me. I'm losing all the blood in my fingers with how tight I'm squeezing the steering wheel. The honking around me is not helping. I can feel everyone's fear collectively as we sit in agitated traffic. Stress. Fault. Jitteriness. Indifference. Panic, panic, panic.

God, I hate being an empath. I can't even hear my own thoughts. I need to breath! Yeah. Take deep breaths. I'm not far from the U-turn lane. So what if traffic is moving 1 millimeter a minute? The storm can't be faster.

Hooooonk!

Beepbeep!

I have to get out of this situation before I have a sensory overload.

From my front and my rear, I'm surrounded by vehicles. I can't move back, I'll hit someone. I can't move up, because they'll think there's space to move and I'll be more stuck than before. Looking to my right I realize the road across the gate is fairly empty. That last car I saw go that way was 40 something minutes ago.

I gulp loosening my grip from the wheel but still holding it firmly in my palms. Taking a breath I turn the wheel and step on the gas. My car races through the grass and crashes though the metal gates. With a screech, my tires are finally rolling and I'm off. Towards the dark clouds like a fool running blindly into a lions den.

When I finally catch sight of the curling palm trees and the flying debris, my weariness is replaced by anger. We had a plan. A simple schedule. Prepare emergency food, water, and medicine, flashlights and documents, locate nearest shelters, fill up gas tank, clear the yard, and turn off the power. When the evacuation order is set, I would be too far away at the time, so my husband would get the kids from home and we...would...evecuate.

Evacuate.

We would meet at the nearest shelter with our separate cars...

Unfortunately, my...sweet...dearest mother decided to take it upon herself to pick up the kids herself...and NOT evacuate. Instead, she wanted her grand babies to feel safe during the storm and cook them a nice meal...at her house.

I almost had a heart attack when my husband said they weren't there. Instead, a note was attached to the fridge reassuring us that my elementary school kids, including a baby, did not infact disappear off the face of the earth. She wants them to feel less threatened and stressed over this "flood nonsense". Make it seem like a regular thunder storm.

Except it's not a thunder storm! It's a hurricane!

I told my husband not to worry about it, I will get the kids and be ok. The hurricane is suppose to be a bad one, the weather man said. Anything left undemolished by the storm by the end of this would be a miracle. Hopefully it won't be my sanity. I swear, she's impossible.

By the time I get to her house, the streets are flowing with water and clawing up her driveway like waves at a beach. I step out and my shoe kerplunks into the water. I groan, feeling my ears eject hot steam. I stomp onto her porch with a squish, squish, squish and jam the key into the lock.

I kick the door open and slam it shut, my anger seeming to accelerate as soon I step inside. I cringe a bit, noticing my youngest asleep on the couch.

"DON'T SLAM MY DO-" my mother sticks her head out through the kitchen doorway and spots me.

"-Oh, hi baby!"

I stretch a tight smile, coaxing my child back to sleep. "Hello, mother."

"You came just in time. I just need to get a few things done before we eat."

And there she is. Like always. Not worrying about a thing while marinating apple cider vinegar on peices of pork. Probably to slice into the-

Sniff, sniff.

-gumbo. Her calm persona was infuriating. Almost insulting.

"Too bad my son in law couldn't be here. He'd love to stuff his face with the beignets" she continues.

"He's at the shelter. Kinda like we're suppose to be" I say, honey tounged and all "which begs the question..." I lean in, my palms face down on the table. "Why aren't we there right now?" I sneer, bringing my voice down.

"Because there's no need to. You know that" she says simply.

"Maybe in your case, but not mine. You just felt entitled to do things your way. Like you always do. I had everything under control and-and you had me worried."

"You know nothing was going to happen to these kids. I knew nothing was really wrong."

"If you really felt so aloof about this, you should have stayed yourself. You can't just up and take my kids like that. We've talked about this."

She finally looks at me, turning away from her task. "I should be free to see my own grand kids whenever I want to."

"I would have probably excepted that, if we weren't in the middle of a god damn hurricane-"

"Momma! Momma look!"

I was interrupted by my two children excitedly telling me that a pie was on the way. All while showing me their hands, proof of a raspberry massacre. Animated. Passion. Triumph. Pleasant. I ruffle their heads with a quick "good job" and they ran off together. Their happiness almost cures my frustration. It does calm me down a bit though.

"Is is so much to want to keep your family safe" my mother asks.

Aaaaaaand its back.

"Is it so much to just listen to me? To just let me do things my way? I am in no less danger than you are just because I dont have the same... tools that you do."

"It looks like it puts you in a lot of danger if you have to evacuate the city. You could simply come here so momma can protect you."

"That makes me look like a normal person, mom. The streets are already flooding and a ton of people just saw me go the opposite direction. I look stupid and suspicious." I'm taken back to my teen years. Having a similar conversation with my mother. "Not everything can be solved with your protection. I can make my own decisions. But instead you undermine me and tamper with everything around you. Just because I dont have it, doesn't mean I cant keep my family safe or simply be a mother. How about, for once, you let mother nature do her job."

"Your father made this house with his bare hands, rehydrating himself with his sweat. No one is touching this house. Not even Cosmo's or Gaia or whatever." She huffs and turn away. A puff of steam emerges over her head, indicating she opened the pot of Gumbo.

"Well, when your the Matriarch, you can start making the rules around here."

Realizing an apology isn't coming, I groan restricting myself from wrapping my hands around her throat. Its silence between us, as there is after every altercation. Especially when the house is mentioned, cause it's always Papa's house. He passed away before I could even learn to speak his name. Mama always told us about Papa. How she met him, how he put her on her feet and built a house for her (it was told he even built the bricks holding this house up), how his devotion to his family and the love of his life lasted until death did them part.

"What makes you think I'm going to be the next Matriarch?" I ask, slipping in the kitchen chair.

"You will. It's a family tradition that you need to uphold. And you are the only girl conceived by me." She answers, this sounds almost rehearsed.

"Why don't the others take your place?" I ask, for the millionth time.

"It's only rare that a boy has ever been in place of a woman. And once a girl was brought in, he was removed immediately."

"If it's that simple then crown them and get it over with."

"Oh, do you think it's that easy"? She quizzes, slowly turning to me.

"Knowing you, probably not."

"Hyde is much more coordinated than that. If they really didn't think you were worthy, we would have known, but I always knew you were special."

Here she goes again. Hyde,, is supposedly the person that gifts the family with magic, life, and girls. It's the spirirt who thrones and dethrones us. No matter who we are. According to mom, the next Matriarch could be good or bad, Hyde has a plan for them in the end.

Along with Papa's stories, Hyde was always directed towards me because I was the only girl, excluding my half sister. Truthfully there was no way to know if Hyde was actually real. I'm not even sure if my parents have seen it. Mom would tell me tales at night of different women throughout our generation, chosen by Hyde and how I would be like them someday.

Perfect.

"Hyde doesn't give you this gift for no reason" mom reassures "they always have a plan. You can't see everything in a negative light. What if Hyde chooses Clio and you-"

I stop her at the mention of my youngest name.

"I'm not putting that responsibility on my kid" I say sternly, though It probably won't matter what I tell her "Especially if, no offense, she ends up like you. Completely dependent on Hyde's gift. IT didn't give me any when I was born, like the rest of you, and I'd like it to stay that way."

Silence once more.

"Perhaps you're afraid-"

"I'm not afraid-"

"-its okay."

"-Of this imaginary ghost."

"Sure, keep believing that. But when it happens~" she sings.

"When it happens to me, pigs will fly" I sneer, memories of that same sing song tone prodding at me.

She says nothing.

"Just let it go mom, it's just not meant to be. I'm not a child that you can hide under your wings when hail comes. However your gifts came to be, Hyde, the house, whatever, it must've skipped a generation."

She continues to stir. She sputters "but-but the family-"

"-The family doesn't know what's best for me and neither do you. I know I'm the only daughter to the Matriarch. I know I wasn't born with any gifts like my siblings. I know refusing my path makes me an ungrateful child and Hyde will handle me" I say reciting what I also heard throughout my life "But that's not my life. And I'm not defenseless."

She freezes. More silence.

"And, I mean, it's not like having voodoo is easy. It consumes you and it messes a lot of things up. This worlds order and the next."

"That's what the council is for" my mom mutters finally.

"Oh, right. The council. The same family who's just as dependent as you. Do you even remeber a time where you haven't used your gift and actually did things yourself?"

...

"Don't you ever think of letting go of this life? Doing things for yourself and not the family? Hyde? Papa's house? I notice how this changes you as you age. If this is the answer to our problems I wouldn't mind the sea taking this house away for a while-"

"Mama! Mama!"

"Wow, look."

I follow my kids voices and they seek for me, a glimmer of wonder and awe in there wide pupils. My 2 boys are pointing to the window in the living room. My sleeping child is now up, standing on her toes to see what her brothers are looking at.

As I begin to walk In the living room, they're rushing back to the kitchen. I take a peek and see a part of the lawn, including my rental car but the road and the neighborhood is gone. A large amount of visible debris is covering up the world around-

No.

That's not debris. That's not wind.

I follow my kids. They've opened the screen door and ventured into the back yard. I race after them and stop in my tracks. The water barrier has followed us to the backyard. My kids are screaming and dancing in the sprinklers as the hurricane is trapping us in its second eye. The oceanic barrier is circling around is, refusing to touch the property. With my kids instructions I look up, the sky is dark above us like it's the dead of night, yet inside the barrier, its murky like a cloudy day.

I can't concentrate. Excitment. Curiosity. Shock. Chills.

I sigh as my daughter wobbles to me and I scoop her in my arms. I can see it now, worst hurricane in 6 years and the Crobitt house still stands. This is similar but not related to the instance when a pair of swings at the run down school across the house seemingly froze in the air a few years ago... CIA is currently investigating...

I gather my children inside, they were starting to go towards the rushing ocean and who knows what'll happen. I shut the door with a defeated sigh and sulk at the table. The beneits sit gracefully with their powder sugar and I worship it by stuffing it in my mouth.

"I told you..."

I look up. My mothers eyes are glowing that familiar bright green and she has that devious smirk on her face. She always gave me that look as a child as if she's trying to tell me something. That, or it's to prove something, which I still dont know. I dont think I ever will.

"...you're father built this house. No one is taking it from me..."

...

"Now, elbows off the table."

-------

If you like to write or be creative, perhaps you need inspiration, go check out this book! Its the best!

#neworleans #magic #voodoo #hurricane #Matriarch #tradition #fantasy #gumbo #raspberrypie #spirit #writethestory #writer #writting #piccadillyinc #originalpost

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joanofarkansass · 3 years

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Part 33 Meta

Ok watching “Part 33” Law and Order: SVU S20E14 and it’s such a good character study of all the SVU characters. For context the case is when a woman, Annabeth Pearl, kills her abusive husband. The episode is spliced between he team is waiting there to testify for Stone and the case itself and is shot entirely in the courthouse (which is smart move on the writers part it really narrows the scope and sets it apart from a regular episode). The viewers really see the team’s attitudes toward justice, morality, and duty especially how it intersects -- and occasionally interferes -- with their jobs. Spoilers obviously

Sonny- He’s the most outwardly emotional out of the gang and the audience can see how he really empathizes and cares about justice for Annabeth instead of justice to Annabeth, despite her being the defendant. He argues passionately with Rollins and on the stand adds his own (legal) conjecture to his testimony with Stone, putting doubt on the loving marriage between Annabeth and her husband, directly undermining Stone. Drawing back, Sonny knows that cases don’t end when they leave the squad-room and the victim’s and perpetrator’s futures continue into the courtroom and he takes his moral compass seriously. He’s studying to be a lawyer. In his job as a cop his job is to back up the ADA and land a conviction, but he doesn’t believe she should go to jail (that her killing was justified) so on the stand, sure he tells the truth, but also does whatever he can to get her justice. Though his earnestness is a little self absorbed, it’s genuine and well meant and I think this will serve him so well as a lawyer. It’d be interesting to see in later seasons when he’s a ADA what he will do when he has to persue a case he doesn’t morally agree with.

Liv- her monologue about being in a abusive relationship and the little things that strip away your dignity is heartbreaking (Mariska you deserve an Emmy for this scene btw) (it’s also connected to the abuse she suffered at the hands of Lewis). She cares so much for the victims, it’s her greatest asset, and here it’s confounded by her strong duty to the law. This case is simple. Annabeth, according to the law, deserves to go to jail. She wasn’t in physical danger from her husband (not that anyone can prove at any rate). But Liv also knows that shooting her husband was the right thing to do in order to get out of that situation. Illegal, but right. These parts of her are at war (just like with that donor heart episode and Alex Cabot episodes in S19) and she chooses to tell the truth--to put Annabeth away-- because in the end the rule of law can’t be subverted no matter how immoral it can be

Rollins. Oh darling, you’ve been through so much shit. Like, lets be real here the entire team has, but you especially. And the unfurling of her backstory, with her father beating her mother and her consequent resentment of her mother for failing to protect her and Rollins is heartbreaking. She was a child and those complicated, complicated emotions distilled in her, to the outside eye’s, in a confusing (illogical) way. She occasionally victim blames and we can see the origins of that tendency here in how her mother, herself a victim, failed to protect her and keep her family together. Is that fair? No. Is what Rollins went through fair? No. And like how what Liv went through with Lewis affected her and her work, what Rollins past affected her work and outlook too. We see it in her advocacy for “innocent until proven guilty” and her belief in the strength of the victims even at the worst point their lives. So yes, she believes in the law. She believes that Annabeth should be in jail. For her, that’s right. *

Stone- it’s easy to see him as the bad guy here, but for me it was a lot more nuanced than that. Part of it is a performance of course, he’s a prosecutor trying to get a conviction (if he wants to win he can’t be playing for the other side), but he does genuinely believe he’s getting justice. Especially as a ADA, he sees the worst of humanity and puts them to justice for it. He takes what the cops give him and make sure it stick that victims get justice. You can’t subvert the law, its the law. In order for anything to get done, there has to be some black and white. Guilty and Innocent. Truth and farce. And no matter how moral it may have been- no matter what Annabeth felt- she still killed her husband in cold blood. And just as her husband should have been accountable for his actions, she has to be accountable for hers. Nuance belongs at sentencing, but she did it. That’s what he’s trying to prove.

Fin- We love some depth!! Fin can sometimes be treated as a one note character, and I’m glad Ice-T got to stretch his leg this episode. His whole facade “this is just another case to me” is peeled back by Liv and his story about throwing a fighting fish back into the bay was a touching way of showing his true feelings. He doesn’t believe she belongs in prison. But it’s not his place to judge, it’s the law’s. The law may not always be just or kind or even moral, but (on the whole) it’s consistent. It’s fair. And if we subvert it, we face a worse life than if we had one.

I also really liked the ending. We don’t see the verdict, just Annabeth’s expression of horror as Liv testifies that she didn’t feel remorse about killing her husband, effectively nailing the lid on her coffin. It’s not ambiguous, the audience knows that she’s going to jail, but it stops that the emotional climax- Liv’s testimony. It doesn’t draw out the inevitable, it leaves the audience pondering the same questions that the team did. Is the law always just? What would you do if it wasn’t? Is it even your place to judge?

Thanks for reading! This was just an emotional reaction from me after watching the episode for the first time and I’d love to hear your reactions.

- Joan

Tagging some people bc I’m really proud of this: @hurricanejjareau, @qvid-pro-qvo, @writefasttalkevenfaster, @crazyshannonigans, @ssaic-jareau

PS: Personally, I’m in Fin’s camp. The law is there for a reason and if we broke it for any injustice it would eventually encroach on personal freedoms. Is it disgusting that he abused Annabeth? Without a doubt. Is it legal? Sadly, yeah. And until the law changes, it’s our duty to follow it. Should it be changed? That is the question. (this is just my opnion btw and I totally get and respect if you disagree)

*Do I believe Rollins should be in therapy? Hells yes. Her perspective is valid and needed as a counter part to Liv and Carisi more emotional ones, but it’s coming from a place that isn’t good.

#law and order svu #law and order: svu #law and order svu meta #fin tutuola #sonny carisi #olivia benson #peter stone #amanda rollins #svu meta

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96thdayofrage · 3 years

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The mental and physical impacts of solitary confinement have been clear for two centuries. In 1829, Pennsylvania Quakers opened the first prison designed for solitary, hoping to inspire reflection in the inmates. Instead, many went crazy or committed suicide. Thirteen years later, Charles Dickens made his first trip to America, and after seeing it first hand, solitary confinement shocked a writer whose bleak perspective inspired an adjective for intolerable suffering. “He is a man buried alive,” he wrote.

In the century and a half since, multiple international agreements have codified the practice as inhumane. In 2011, Juan Mendez, the U.N. special rapporteur on torture — who was himself jailed and tortured by the Argentinean military dictatorship for more than a year in the 1970s — declared that more than 15 days in solitary constitutes torture.

“Solitary confinement is recognized as difficult to withstand; indeed, psychological stressors such as isolation can be as clinically distressing as physical torture,” wrote Jeffrey L. Metzner and Jamie Fellnerin in the Journal of the American Academy of Psychiatry and the Law, in a paper about the medical ethics of physicians who participate in punitive isolation measures.

According to a report by Citizens for Prison Reform, there are 3,200 people in isolation in Michigan for more than 20 hours a day among the state prison population, like Richard Goddard, who has been in isolation for 47 years; James Miller, who has been segregated from the general population for about 36; and Daniel Henry, for 12. Clarence Henderon, who at 67 had been in isolation has been confined to a wheelchair due to severe arthritis. He allegedly goes months without going outside. “It’s just torture,” says Mario Lee, who goes by the name Akesi and has been incarcerated since 2005, currently serving time at the Ionia Correctional Facility.

Chris Gautz, a spokesperson for the MDOC, denies that the department regularly keeps inmates in solitary confinement for years. (A request for comment on the whereabouts of the individuals in Silenced was forwarded to the state’s FOIA office, and we’ll update if we hear back). “As of February of this year, there was one prisoner who has been in [administrative segregation] for more than one year, but less than two, out of 32,000 prisoners,” Gautz said. But Jessica Sandoval, senior campaign strategist with the national Unlock the Box campaign, says the MDOC fudges those numbers by labeling isolation a variety of technical terms, like Mental Health Unit; Observation; temporary segregation. And Alternative to Segregation (START program).

Akesi, who was recently moved to the START program, says the difference is meaningless. “The program is classified as general population. In reality, it’s administrative [segregation]. The only distinguishing features is that we are required to attend and participate in one hour of group therapy sessions once a week,” he says. “On the other hand, the similarities to seg are many. We are allowed one hour of outdoor recreation five days a week, confined to individual enclosures with concrete floors and enclosed by a steel and wire mesh cage.” He says they’re denied access to any congregate activities including religious services. “We spend between 23 and 24 hours per day in our cells. By no stretch of the imagination can the department of corrections claim that this program is general population or otherwise an alternative to segregation.”

“As social (i.e. human beings) one of the most severe punishments humanly possible that society can mete out to a human is to banish and condemn us to the tombs for the living — or otherwise subject us to extreme social isolation and sensory deprivation,” Akesi wrote in 2020 from the Ionia Correctional Facility in Ionia, Michigan. “It’s endless torture, psychological and physical.”

“This is the techno jargon that keeps the system opaque. All these euphemisms are for essentially solitary confinement,” Sandoval says. She says anything that forces an inmate to stay in isolation for longer than sleeping hours should be defined as solitary. (Gautz told Rolling Stone he didn’t have that information and forwarded the query to the department’s FOIA office.) The Michigan Department of Corrections counts 835 inmates in administrative, or long-term segregation, and 130 in punitive solitary detention, as a short term punishment. The race breakdown is stark: more than 70 percent of inmates placed in long term solitary are Black.

The prisoners’ descriptions are remarkably consistent: they describe severe mental health problems arising from solitary, from hallucinations to paranoia to suicidal ideation. One inmate reports losing his vision after staring at nothing in the near distance for so long. Another, Williams says, was screaming on the phone; he’d forgotten how to talk at a normal volume.

Williams points out that it’s not just the “worst of the worst” being held in isolation — Hannibal Lecters who would wreak havoc if they weren’t segregated. Inmates can get thrown in the hole for any reason, she says, or no reason at all. She claims it’s entirely based on the whim of the guards. “One man was sent to isolation unit after knocking over a glass of water,” she claims. (Gautz, the MDOC spokesperson, denied that guards put prisoners in solitary without due process or a just reason.)

Williams also notes that many facilities are in rural, almost entirely white towns: in some cases, the prison is the main industry. “You’re taking Black people to extremely isolated places. The town survives off of these Black bodies.”

“The further you go up North… its like some parts of the South in the 50’s and 60’s,” writes inmate Andraus McCloud. “The KKK turned in their robes for MDOC uniforms,” writes inmate Anthony Richardson. “Nobody is watching while they do their hate practices.”

When Danielle Dunn, a real estate broker, spoke to her little brother, 38-year-old Jonathan Lancaster, in February of 2019, he whispered the entire time. “There was a change in his voice. Clearly he was having mental health issues,” she tells Rolling Stone. Lancaster had been thrown in solitary after a scuffle with another inmate, and had become increasingly paranoid. “He was saying there was gas pumped into his cell. That his food was being poisoned. I said, ‘Are you OK? It sounds like you’re cracking up a little bit.” Lancaster got silent, Dunn recalls. “Then he whispered again, ‘They’re going to kill me.’”

Even as Lancaster started losing weight and continued to act erratically — he suffered from a variety of mental illnesses, his sister says, including schizophrenia — his sister alleges that prison staff failed to get Lancaster proper medical treatment. He began to hallucinate, crouch in the fetal position, and refused food and water. The Detroit Free Press reported that he lost 26 percent of his body weight in three weeks, dropping 51 pounds, according to the lawsuit.

“They didn’t even know why he was still in solitary confinement,” Dunn says. She begged staff to give him proper care but claims she was told he was “physically fine.” March 8th, 2019, he was pepper sprayed and put in an observation room, where he didn’t have access to water, according to the lawsuit. On March 11th, they cleared him for a hospital visit. Early that morning, they strapped him into a restraint chair and left him in his cell for several hours. At 12:50 he was found unresponsive and later declared dead. (Lancaster’s family is suing MDOC staff for wrongful death; Gautz declined to comment on the ongoing litigation.)

“My brother was severely tortured,” Dunn says, tearing up. “They beat him. There were bruises all over him. Pepper sprayed, beat, when he was unresponsive. They sat there and they literally watched him suffer and die.” Her mother was put in a mental health hospital. “It’s all but killed my mother. She’s suffering terribly.”

“The cruelty, leaving him to die in his own waste, suffering,” Dunn says, of her brother.

Surviving in solitary can be its own cruelty. Daniel Henry has spent more than a decade in segregation and, he says, he’s been told he’s never getting out. “It’s been a long 12 years in solitary at ICF and I have learned so much about the darker side of human nature and how cruel people can become when there is no real accountability or oversight,” Henry wrote to Willams. “I have also learned a lot about myself. And I’ve met many people in here and out there who have taught me how to sympathize with the next man’s pain and suffering.”

“Other countries do not utilize solitary confinement like we do let alone incarcerate their citizens for such lengthy sentences that virtually remove any hope for a future life outside of the criminal justice system,” Henry added.

He, and others, worry about Richard Goddard, who’s spent almost 50 years in isolation. “The man is the most kind, caring and humble human being I’ve ever met and he clearly presents no threat to either himself or the MDOC any longer,” says Henry. “The appearance is that they want us to suffer as much as possible on top of being confined to a small space for years.”

Williams hopes to turn outrage over conditions into action; the website has a “Take Action” page that lets people share their stories and lobby political leaders, like Michigan’s Democratic Governor Gretchen Whitmer.

“I am hoping that public pressure makes the MDOC admit that there’s a huge problem, and actually work toward fixing it,” she tells Rolling Stone.

She wishes elected officials could really see the conditions they perpetuate with their inaction. “I want legislators to visit these prisons in July or August, to step inside of a segregation cell and close the door when it’s over 100 degrees and see how long they last.”

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blastyboisbitch · 4 years

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Thinking Out Loud || Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

It’s been a while since I’ve written any one shots...be gentle with me ; ^ ; Edit: updated 10/5 after a beta read ~

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

“Ouch - !”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N!”

For what felt like the hundredth time that night, Izuku apologized, bowing his head low as you sat down on a nearby couch with a sigh to nurse bruised toes hidden beneath your school slippers. “It’s alright. Can we take a break?”

“Yeah, alright…I should watch that video again…” Embarrassed, the verdant haired student mumbled as he drew away to grab a water bottle from the table nearby, his phone already in hand.

You two had been at it for a couple of hours now with no improvement – on either end. Izuku had clearly stated, even while offering to help you, that he didn’t have any experience. With no other offers at the time (besides Mineta, who was quickly silenced by Sero and Denki), the two of you had hoped that his enthusiasm would make up for the lack of experience.

Hope seemed futile, however. At least according to your aching feet.

You sat back, stretching your legs out in front of you as you took a long drink from the water you had procured. It was late in the evening and the dorms were quiet as you two sat in the silence, green curtains drawn over the arched picture windows to the darkness of the outdoors.

“It’s getting late and I know we’ve got class early...but can we give it one more shot?” Izuku might have been even more determined than you were, or maybe at this point it was just that he was just stubborn. “I think I’ve got it now.” Your classmate held up his phone as a ‘waltzing for idiots’ video flashed on the screen, and you nearly choked on your water.

“Alright. Once more and then we’ll call it a night.” Trying to act appreciative, you just barely stifled a wince when you stood to join him.

Hesitantly, Izuku’s scarred right hand gently tucked itself just below your left shoulder blade, and the left found its place cupping your right hand while partially extended from your bodies. His palms weren’t sweaty, thankfully, but their clamminess was not exactly the most pleasant.

“At least it wasn’t Mineta.”

Even stranger was the fact that not once while he was holding you had he made eye contact through the entire ordeal. Every time you looked to try and catch his gaze, his wide green eyes were consistently focusing on where his feet were. Izuku was determined to do things exactly as it was shown in his video – and it was killing your feet.

Everything seemed to line up perfectly while the two of you were still, and even into his first step forward with his left foot and your first step back with your right this time. But after that, everything fell apart. Into the second step and partial turn, Izuku’s right heel caught your ankle and effectively stopped his rotation, causing the both of you to trip as you moved to swing toward him.

For all the times you didn’t end up sitting on the floor, it was the last one that did you both in. Izuku released his hold on your torso and hand on the way down in an unsuccessful attempt to prevent you from falling with him. You couldn’t help the exhausted groan that slid past your lips, pinching the bridge of your nose with your free hand. Your classmate was quick to untangle his legs once he realized what happened – again – and once more he apologized profusely, obviously upset over the blunder.

“Maybe Mineta wouldn’t have two left feet…”

“What the hell are you extras doing?”

You shook yourself of the idea of even allowing the other student near you, just in time for your attention to be drawn to the doorway. Fresh from pro-hero training it appeared, Katsuki casually leaned against the door frame with his bag draped over his shoulder. How long had he been there?

“K-Kaachan!” Izuku stuttered, shocked by the sudden appearance of his ‘friend’. On a typical day, it wasn’t uncommon for the blonde to already be sleeping within the confines of his dorm room. “W-we were just…Y/N asked for help -”

“Dancing. Ballroom waltz, to be specific.” You finished the sentence that Izuku was caught up in, brushing a hand through your hair as you watched him carefully.

Carmine colored eyes darted from Izuku – who’s hand was at the back of his neck as he stood, mumbling to himself - to you. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks when his gaze refused to falter, and you looked away first, closing your eyes and leaning forward onto one knee. You knew it was bad, but bad enough for Katsuki to call it out?

“Tch. You call that a waltz?” You looked back once more to him at the call out, preparing for what would probably become an argument. But as you did, you could have sworn a shadow of curiosity and questioning graced sharp features, before being masked once more with nonchalance and indifference.

“My oldest brother is marrying his partner in a few weeks…” You didn’t owe Katsuki an explanation. Yes, he was your classmate. But in your mutual - and final - year at UA after you transferred into the hero course, you’d had very few actual interactions with the explosive man. He was always too busy, for everything and everyone except himself, it seemed. At least you might look like less of an idiot if you tried.

“Our mom died a few years back. She can’t be there, but I can, and I wanted to make sure he could still have his “mother”-son dance…” You’d planned the surprise with the help of your soon to be brother-in-law, right down to the last detail - the slideshow of old videos playing in the background, the song, everything - except for how you were going to learn how to do a simple waltz in a matter of weeks.

Your line of sight dropped back down to your slippers, and you smiled. One way or another, you’d figure it out. Right? And worst case scenario, you’d make a fool of yourself in front of your family who already knew you well enough that it didn’t matter. It looked like that was going to be the case.

Nearby, Izuku fisted his phone in one hand, stepping forward to attempt to apologize – but the sound of a school bag, heavy with god-only-knew-what, hitting the hardwood floor caught you both off-guard.

You looked back up to find Katsuki rolling up his long sleeves even as he glared your direction.

“Wait, what are you doing?” You raised an eyebrow and stared incredulously as he stepped up to you, extending a hand to help you up from the floor.

“Tch…dumbass, do you want to learn, or not?!” Your feet were sore. You were exhausted, not just with the failure, but just with life in general. And here was Katsuki-fucking-Bakugou – one of the big three of UA - offering to teach you how to waltz.

You took his hand willingly, a heady combination of burnt sugar and spice filling your senses as he pulled you up in one swift movement. His touch was firmer than Izuku’s, an absolute confidence that the other didn’t have. You had little time to protest as your face was suddenly only inches away from his broad chest, warm hands taking the same positions that his classmate’s had been before - beneath your left shoulder blade and cupping your right hand extended from your bodies. Involuntarily, your free hand caught his shoulder, and the muscle beneath his shirt tensed with the sudden contact.

“That shitty nerd wouldn’t know the first thing about how to dance if his life depended on it,” Katsuki remarked, flashing an annoyed glance over to Izuku standing nearby and fumbling with his phone at his friend’s remarks. He didn’t contest what they all knew, an embarrassed smile crossing his face. But at least he’d tried, right?

“It’s ok Izuku. Thank you for trying to help!” At the very least, you were appreciative that he had tried. That was what mattered in the long run, right? Taking it as his cue to leave, the green-haired male removed himself from the room, and left the two of you to your devices.

For all of the piss and vinegar that seemed to be the outer layer that was Katsuki Bakugou, the coming weeks proved that there was more to him than met the eye. Harsh words and sweaty, long practice sessions into the dead of the night - some even outside in the cool, damp grass when the dorm was occupied - gave way to unexpectedly gentle touches as he first taught you how to follow, and then to lead – a secret kept between the two of you, because what man in their right mind would allow a woman to lead.

It’d come out fairly early into your sessions that not only had his mother had him take music lessons as a child, but also dance lessons. And if there was one thing Katsuki was good at, it was excelling at everything he did. He would be the best, regardless of the task, because that was who he was. Ballroom waltz? It was the easiest thing in the book, as he berated you for not knowing even the basic steps. With a partner who knew what they were doing however, it was much easier for you to get past those first two steps and move on to the more complicated ones.

At first, you thought you felt nervous around him. Your hands shook with every touch; your voice, trembling against every order you mentally gave yourself not to. And to say your stomach was in knots wasn’t even close to describing how excessively anxious you were. But it swiftly morphed into something more behind your back - stolen smiles behind closed doors, laughing together in private over the stupidest things that didn’t involve dancing, and praise just when you needed it most. You soon found that you couldn’t help that every heartbeat felt like an explosion when you were with him. An unkind metaphor, you found yourself thinking.

The day of your brother’s wedding came quicker than anticipated. You were a bundle of nerves once more, dolled up for the occasion - but despite that, you were more than confident when you finally walked out onto that ballroom floor. You’d only had a few chances to dance with your brother in the few days leading up, passing it off as just wanting to practice for his first dance with his partner. Every lie told was worth it in the end when the videos that came on in the background left the poor groom a sobbing mess. ‘Awe’s’ and applause filled the room as you led your brother a bit slower than your normal pace with Katsuki, unable to hide the smile that graced your face as you caught sight of your plus-one for the evening with the biggest shit-eating-grin, right up in front of the crowd – observing his hard work paying off.

By the time it was said and done, you and your sibling were both a sobbing mess, the woman smiling down from the enlarged video on the white screen nearly your spitting image. It was all surreal, in a sense. After receiving long hugs from both your sibling and his partner, you left them to do their thing, joining your own ‘partner’ off to the side. You couldn’t stop smiling. And it was contagious.

“See. You did fine, idiot.” Katsuki didn’t often smile in public, but with his hands in his pockets, he praised you in his own way, glancing back out to your family and then bringing his attention back to you.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, ‘Tsukii.” Using a napkin, you carefully dabbed at your under eyes, hoping to remove the last traces of any smudged makeup. “You know, you’d make a good teacher for UA, someday.”

In the dim lighting it was hard to tell, but you swore that there was a pink-tinge to his cheeks as he brushed your compliment aside.

“Tch...stop talking nonsense, dumbass.” You couldn’t help but grin at him while tucking the napkin in your hand into a pocket to dispose of later, before boldly slipping a hand into his pocket to lace your fingers through his. He flinched but didn’t push you away – instead, holding the hand you’d given him a bit tighter as his gaze focused away from the situation at hand.

After a moment of standing there together, watching as others began celebrating the new union, you squeezed Katsuki’s hand gently. “We should show them how it’s done.” It wasn’t a question, or a request. It was a statement.

One that he eagerly took you up on as you pulled him out onto the dance floor.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou oneshot #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou fic #bnha #mha #bnha oneshot #bakugou imagines #mha x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou scenarios #bakugou fluff #mha oneshot #implied fem!reader #fem!reader #bakugou x fem!reader #swearing

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mhaccunoval · 3 years

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i finallyyyy finished the explanations for my tlb playlistttt so come get yall juice

if you haven’t already seen my first (official) post about this silly little playlist then you are still in luck !!! here is the spotify and the youtube links !!! oh yeah also all of the songs are in chronological order (maybe not by month but definitely by year) because i had to be organized like that sbjhshsjbs

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❥ title

i mean. there isn’t much to explain about it but sbjshbsjhs it’s based on sam’s line “you’re a creature of the night, michael!” of course but i made it plural because this playlist is sort of a. general boys / movie playlist, if that makes sense??? but yeahhhh they’re all littol creechers who love the night >:o]

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❥ paint it, black — the rolling stones

so !!! i was kind of trying to relate it to the boys vampirism and. love of black clothes sbhsjbshjs but no. similar to the title, they. literally live in darkness because of not being able to go into the sun and because of the few lights in the lair but there’s also a sort of duality where being vampires in an internal darkness??? like. each of the boys takes heavy advantage of the benefits of being undead but i can’t imagine it’s without its faults outside of the lack of sunlight and such. i’m sure there’s a kind of uh. monster complex that follows it, especially with the way outsiders view them, which certainly fits with the song’s vibe of being washed with this sort of sensory overload to color and earning weird looks for it

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❥ riders on the storm — the doors

first of all, there’s a giant ass jim morrison poster in the lair therefore the boys definitely listen to the doors (if not idolize jim) so jot that down. but also !!! it has very Them vibes !!! i think the storm effects definitely relate to boys in how storms create a darkness that is soothing in its own way, and comes on strong, just like the boys’ presence. and. technically they Are killers on the road that Will kill a sweet family sbhjsbshjsb but no most of all the !!! “into this house we’re born // into this world we’re thrown” and !!! the found family that the boys have going. like, if you look at. vampirism as the house they have LITERALLY been born into it and been thrown into a whole new world, depending on each other for comfort and pleasure !!! oh also. they ride motorcycles so they’re also literal riders sbhjsbshjs (fun fact, according to genius lyrics: apparently it was the last song jim recorded before he died a few weeks later 😳)

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❥ love her madly — the doors

whole jim morrison poster and listening to the doors reasoning is sustained. HOWEVER for the rest of reasoning… perhaps it’s more straight up 95060 than anything but sbhsjbsshj the whole woman walking in and out of the audience’s life is very symbolic of michael being in and out with the boys, never really deciding whether he wants to fully join them and straining. all of his relationships with that indecision and sitting on the picket fence (those who sit on the picket fence are impaled by it). although, it could also be partly symbolic of that indecision, as he does find Some charm in the boys’ lifestyle and keeps finding himself drawn back enough to even consider partaking in it. also, if you wanna go the parko route, paul loves marko madly enough to go after the frog bros personally for killing him <3

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❥ walk this way — aerosmith

i am. blanking on how to tie it in other than being on the movie’s soundtrack (yes i avoided it and people are strange until the very end of making the playlist, but one of the evils got me clearly— have always ADORED people are strange though). but. i guess you can make the case that the song is full of innuendos and some scenes, like the feeding scene, are lowkey horny sbsjhbshjsbs and YES it’s the aerosmith version instead of the run dmc one because. i prefer this one and it’s my silly little playlist <3

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❥ the boys are back in town — thin lizzy

technically the boys never Left town but !!! *christopher walken voice* Boys !!! them cast ARE crazy and they’re ALWAYS dressed to kill, ready to spill some blood and pick a fight !!! yeah no it’s just a very fun song that i think really works to. represent their crazy lifestyle and infamy around town due to causing trouble !!! and you can almost say that in this scenario star is the girl who used to dance a lot and slapped the shit out of someone <3 just girlboss moments <3

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❥ xanadu — rush

hehehe… this started as the. desire to add more rush to the playlist for my own amusement but the more times i listen to it, the more i’m like “!!! it actually fits”… like. xanadu here is meant to a sort of utopia that’s long searched for, partly BECAUSE of the promise of immortality which !!! the boys have (unless. harmed in one of the ways at the end of the movie) because of their vampirism. like even if we don’t know the exact reasons they got turned, they all still, mostly indirectly probably, sought out that same principle. And the dining on honeydew and drinking the milk of ‘paradise’ is similar to their thrill-seeking tendencies and general enjoyment of being unable to die, leaving them to enjoy their undead lives to the fullest. not to mention, in [b part 2] (as genius refers to it) there’s talk of many, many years passing and waiting for the world to end, which we know there’s been quite a few years in between the boys getting turned and the movie, as well as i’m sure they sit back and wait on Some apocalypse, if not just to watch the world burn. in writing this, i’ve ALSO realized how it can be considered very Michael; he didn’t exactly seek this life out but he found it and indulged, only to be that “mad immortal man” towards the end of the song

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❥ runnin’ with the devil — van halen

i just van halen is neat sbjshbsjsh and would definitely be something the boys would actually listen to hsjbshjsb i don’t Necessarily think vampires are in any way tied to the devil but. here it’d be more like a metaphor of “taking a walk on the wild side” if you wanna call it that; also, they all truly live their lives like there’s no tomorrow (not that they have to worry about death until the very end), have stolen a lot of things just to get by (probably in life AND death), don’t bode well with the ‘simple’ life (likely including the idea of a nuclear family like max proposed) because of it’s lack of pleasures, and don’t exactly have any “love [that] you’d call real” unless you read into the subtext

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❥ hot blooded — foreigner

originally this was going to be another joke about the. lowkey horniness of the boys and the movie as a whole but i’ve realized in writing these explanations thus far and rereading the lyrics that it’s. it’s just michael-centric sbshjsbsh sam is “at the mercy of his sex glands” and so is the audience of both the movie and the song sbhsjbshsj like. michael finds himself attracted to star immediately and tries for two secret rendezvouses, with only one working, and. can be said that he also finds a fever running within him when he’s around david and the boys sbhjsbshjs i just 🙈

———

❥ renegade — styx

renegade is my favorite styx song so i just said “fuck it” and added it sbshjsbshj but !!! you can say that, again, the boys live their lives on the wild side and. probably commit enough crimes to warrant dozens of sentences, some that would lead to death row (like, ya know, the. manslaughter) but they manage to get away unscathed. And the law man serving as an allegory to all of the people, including the frogs and grandpa, that want them dead for being vampires, with the bounty to be rewarded being the ridding of their trouble from santa carla

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❥ big shot — billy joel

mikey :o) … ok yeah he isn’t the. silver spoon in hand (nose) type but he’s LITERALLY the type to open his mouth and get himself deep in enough shit that a fight breaks out, potentially bloodied his eyes, nose, and/or fists. i don’t have much of an explanation outside of he is a himbo jock who pulled a “i didn’t know how to talk to my crush so i wrote a note telling them to get out of my school” except he said it with his fist instead of his mouth sbjshbshsj

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❥ boys don’t cry — the cure

pretty sure this is one of the ones i stole off of shovel (@/iswearimavamp) sbshjbshjs but i do love this song in a general sense too. in regards to the movie, like. none of the guys. obsess over masculinity or anything— and both david AND michael cry at different points— so that’s not necessarily an issue. but, there *is* still a lot of hurt and stepping on toes in many of the relationships in the film that can be stretched to fit, i would think sbjhsbshjs

———

❥ highway to hell — ac/dc

this and back in black were some of the last two i put on here because i. wanted to make an ‘even’ 35 sbsjhsbshjs BUT, like with runnin’ with the devil, it’s about a devilish lack of care for one’s own life or the “status of their soul” and just doing what feels right or like the most fun, no matter if it lands them in hell or not. and !!! “my friends are gonna be there too” fits with the friendship within the boys’ found family and how they’ll all always be together, no matter what !!!

———

❥ back in black — ac/dc

i can’t really think of an explanation that differs from highway to hell so just reread the above sbsjhsbsh

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❥ witch hunt — rush

OK !!! this is the song i’m the MOST excited to explain !!! right off the bat, moving pictures as a whole is an IMMACULATE album, absolutely love it. right so !!! this song literally SOUNDS like it belongs on the movie soundtrack; it has the same overtones and sounds as cry little sister and it’s just !!! and with the title, a witch hunt is BASICALLY what sam + the frogs went on in search of the lose boys, relying on little else but hearsay and catching glimpses at what was happening to michael, “confident that their ways are best” and moving along like a mob of three to get to the bottom of it. “features distorted in the flickering light // faces are twisted and grotesque” is very reminiscent of the faces the lost boys pull when they’re about to attack, and “they say there are strangers who threaten us” is symbolic of them being outsiders/outcasts that make everyone uncomfortable, even if You aren’t going to be their next victim. “the righteous rise with burning eyes” AND “quick to judge, quick to anger // slow to understand // ignorance and prejudice // and fear walk hand in hand” can apply to any number of characters, particularly the mains who are all pitted against each other, the humans fighting for their lives and the vampires fighting for their Right to live, neither taking into consideration the other’s perspective. i just… ADORE this song…

———

❥ red barchetta — rush

this one was mainly just because of the car that grandpa keeps in the barn and both sam and michael’s fascination with it sbhjsbsshj and just to get more rush on here shjsbshjsbsh

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❥ maneater — hall & oates

one of the first songs to hit the playlist !!! because the boys eat people !!! they’re the lean and hungry type that only come out at night !!! they’ll be sitting with you but their eyes are on the door and if you want love from them, you won’t get very far !!! the beauty IS there but there are beasts inside that can rip your world apart !!! they’ll chew you up but also leave you begging for more :o)

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❥ hungry like the wolf — duran duran

the second song to have gone on the playlist !!! the boys are always on the prowl for fresh meat (in both the food AND turning senses) and they come alive while on the hunt, blood no doubt rushing through their veins (assuming it still can) !!! and in the movie, michael is the one they’re after for the turning connotation, all wanting a taste of him for themselves !!!

———

❥ subdivisions — rush

this rush song actually went on before the others shbsjsbshj but !!! it still fits just as well (certainly better than red barchetta)… the movie all takes place on the fringes of the city, “in between the bright lights // and the far unlit unknown”, and while it’s not exactly in the suburbs, there’s still little comfort to soothe the restless dreams of youth. there IS a drawing like moths into the city, for both the emersons and the lost boys, which is what ends up bringing all of them together, although it starts are cruising for action just to feel the living night. and just !!! NOBODY fits in !!! if you take the movie title as them being Lost instead of an allusion to peter pan, then you get slapped with thinking about what actually makes them lost and how they don’t conform in any way, shape, or form to just about. anything. and !!! the emersons are new, which immediately puts them at a social disadvantage, but they Also don’t seem too terribly great at making new friends in general so !!! “nowhere is the dreamer or the misfit so alone”!!!

———

❥ abracadabra — steve miller band

i just love this song for whatever reason. and i think the allusion to magic to very fitting for the hallucinations that david gives michael, putting a sort of magic spell on him if you want to look at it that way. not a lot of silk and satin going gone but plenty of leather and probably some lace in there somewhere ( ;o] ) … also michael DOES heat up like a burnin’ flame whenever his name is called and the situation with the boys just keeps going round and round with no exact end in sight, only the calling of desire

———

❥ separate ways (worlds apart) — journey

you would think i would have more journey on here ??? because i love them ??? but instead i stole this off of shovel too ??? it’s fine. time to be back on the 95060 bullshit sbsjhbsjhs we all know david Really wants michael to join them but. michael is reluctant, so that hesitance sets them worlds apart from each other— as if they weren’t already— and there’s still love between them, or at least the bgeinning sparks of it, even if michael refuses to act on them and only keeps pushing david away

———

❥ cum on feel the noize — quiet riot

just some boys loving to party <3 some boys with evil yet dirty minds, out of time singing, funny faces, and that have a lazy time <3 yeah no this is one they’d rock out to and someone would probably pull a muscle over because it’s just such a banger sbshjsbsjh

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❥ rebel yell — billy idol

Another stolen off of shovel sbjhsbsjhs also ever since it’s been pointed out to me that david looks like billy idol i’ve just been losing it a little sbhjsbshjs Anyway. they’d definitely idolize him to some degree, even if just for looks, and it certainly fits the way that they. most Definitely let out a rebel yell at the midnight hour if you know what i mean— *taken out by a sniper*

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❥ every breath you take — the police

would to believe to know i took it from shovel (i swear the last three where i say that will be rock you like a hurricane, livin’ on a prayer, and cherry pie sbshjsbsh) BUT !!! the watching every move is yet another. david keeping watch over michael and uh yearning from afar moment, heart aching the longer he’s away and the longer he keeps up this game of not knowing what exactly he wants to do

———

❥ handsome devil — the smiths

ok THIS one was lent to me by ej (@/maybe-strawberry-blue) sbshjbshjsbs and let me tell you. this song (especially when paired with this charming man) is Very homoerotic, aka perfect for this movie shbjsbshjsbs like what got me first was “let me get my hands // on your mammary glands” and just. thinking about trans parko sbhsjbshjs but also in general the. “and i would like to give you // what i think you’re asking for” and “a boy in the bush // is worth two in the hand” and just sbhjsbshjs Everything. fits the ambiguous homoeroticism. And i think the boys would listen to the smiths (will elaborate more in the other smiths song explanation)

———

❥ panama — van halen

i Told you all i think van halen is neat sbsjsshjb what can i say. the boys like fast moving vehicles, hard partying, and tender loving sbsjhsbhsj also forgot to mention that i think they’d all be :eyes: about pre-1985 david lee roth and i cannot blame

———

❥ rock you like hurricane — scorpions

third to last shovel snatch sbshjsbh Here you can replace any one of the boys with the animals mentioned, as they’re always hungry and need to feed… they come out scratching and ready to win, willing to rock anyone who gets in their way like a hurricane— including with lust, depending on the situation

———

❥ livin’ on a prayer — bon jovi

i actually can’t even manage an explanation for this one either just because of the song’s plot and how greatly it differs the movie plot <3 however it will stay because shovel said one of the boys (i forget which) would listen to it and friendship is more powerful than my small brain <3

———

❥ the queen is dead — the smiths

rightttt so here’s the deal, buds and duds. something in my gut just tells me that david would pull a me and. listen to this entire album on repeat, particularly bigmouth strikes again and i know it’s over when in dramatics bshjsbsjh BUT to make a case for the title track itself, breaking into buckingham palce— or really any major building— with only a sponge and rusty wrench would ABSOLUTELY be an endeavor the boys would get up to And they’d all pale (worse than normal) about finding out they’re the descendant of some royal. “oh, has the world changed, or have i changed” and “life is very long, when you’re lonely” is quite fitting of their immortality, which i can only imagine would leave them questioning how the world has evolved and, although they have each other, i’m sure living forever still can get a Little lonely. And they’d certainly celebrate the death of a royal (because anarchy <3). mostly i’ve just been listening to this song on repeat for days sbhjsbshj but, i think it’s the most. generally related to all of the boys, whereas like. cemetry gates would be more solely 95060

———

❥ need you tonight — inxs

my favorite inxs song… technically the 21st century Wasn’t yesterday when the movie came out nor when the song did sbhjsbshjs but there *is* a lot of sweating from desire and aiming to put that passion into use, very blatantly letting everyone know that sbjhsbshjs

———

❥ bad medicine — bon jovi

there’s just something so fun about this song… and while listening to it on the drive home, i was thinking about it from a 95060 perspective where. david’s a bit lovesick (hence the love like bad medicine) and the choir of voices in the bg, saying “that’s what you get for falling in love”, would be the other boys knowing he’s gotten himself in over his head over what was supposed to be a minor tease or a small fling (would be a real fun and poppy animatic i think)

———

❥ pour some sugar on me — def leppard

legitimately this started as a “haha what about my ‘what if the blood was kool-aid instead’ joke” and then i realized it was. a fair enough fit, especially with the feeding scene. except they’re actual vamps not just video vamps sbjhsbshjs anyway. sugar highs and red hot flames of passion for one another <3

———

❥ cherry pie — warrant

ok THIS is the last song i took from shovel and. my reasoning is pretty much the same as pour some sugar on me and. Friendship

———

❥ somebody told me — the killers

i wasn’t going to add any modern songs but. i thought it’d be funny if michael had had a girlfriend before leaving phoenix that looked a bit like david sbshjsbshj and then it only just added to angst sbhjsbshj

———

❥ you know what they do to guys like us in prison — mcr

i was reminded that vampires will never hurt you exists but. i went with my favorite mcr song instead because. vwnhy is more like ??? a vampire that fears themselves ??? so like. an edward cullen type ??? while ykwtdtgluip is more about the homoeroticism and community ??? i said what i said

———

❥ house of wolves — mcr

thank god this is the last song because i’m getting tired sbjshsjshb a little less homoeroticism, a little more general sinning and egotism <3

#pant rambles #playlist #ramble #in the last like. ten you can Tell i started getting tired

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roseamongroses · 5 years

Text

Antithesis: (1) “cracks knuckles its time to get educated fools”

Summary: For their Junior project, Roman is unceremoniously paired with Dmitri.

He's hardly interacted with the guy, a strange occurrence since Virgil has had a weird/unexplained hate-hate relationship with him since middle-school. But it isn't like he's complaining. Dmitri's cute, he compliments Roman, and damn can he paint.So Roman may or may not catch feelings, and he may not be wiling to uncatch them anytime soon.--Dmitri returns the sentiment.

[General Warnings:] Misgendering, Past Misgendering, Past Bullying, Mild Sexual Content, implied emotional abuse, Cursing [Tags/mood:] highschool au, project troupe, fluff and angst but its all good, chat fic, teen stress, its flordia no snow we die like men [Pairing:] Roceit (Roman Sanders/ Deceit Sanders), hinted future/possible logince/roloceit/loceit [Characters] Roman Sanders/Deceit (Dmitri) Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Logan Sanders, Patton Sanders, Remy (Sleep) Sanders, Nate Sanders, Dragon Witch (Diana)

(1) (2)

R: hey this is Roman[star] [crown] [star]

R: what do you have in mind for the project??

---

As simple as that text was, according to his very reliable memory, it took him exactly an entire decade to work up the nerve to send that. And he was not a coward mind you- reasonably afraid of sudden movements, sure, but no damn coward. He made sure to inherit the fight gene when he was in the womb with Virgil, around the same time he graciously decided not to absorb the little shit.

As if to further emphasis the magnitude of his fetal sacrifice, Virgil gulped down the rest of the milk. Straight from the pint. Just as Roman poured his cereal.

Virgil raised an eyebrow, “What’s got you all riled up prin-cy?” he tossed the pint. Even though Mom wasn’t there to rag on him for being an absolute heathen, she could still do so later if he left behind evidence.

“Nothing, nothing at all.” He ate his cereal dry, carefully avoiding Virgil’s scrutiny.

“Oh--” Virgil choked, “Oh shit, what did you do.”

“Excuse me,”Roman squawked, “I did nothing, you here? I am a good child.”

“Fuckface,”

“We have the same face,”

“Fuckface,” Virgil flicked his dyed purple, and regularly straightened hair for emphasis, “Last time you didn’t actively shout your problems, we found several stray cats in your room--and then there's the time you lit grandpa’s shed on fire with your self care candles and then there was the homecoming incident of fres-”

“--Ok,” Roman interrupted, “--wow Virgil, drag up my entire hero’s journey while you’re at it,” he pouted, “It’s no big deal, really.”

“When the hero’s journey could make a convincing argument in a court of law that you’re unreasonably fire-prone, then yes it's a big deal Ro, spill.”

“I’m just a little,” understatement, “Overwhelmed, by our junior project--” It's definitely not the project, definately definately, definitely not the project.

“That thing?” Virgil frowned, confused, “Me n’ L, going down to the space-station to do interviews, and a couple of presentations, what's going on in the art department?”

“Fuckin’ nerds,” Roman snorted, stabbing his cereal again, “Pat jus’ had to switch last minute to help the new kid out, so Dee and I got paired together and he--”Roman looked up,suddenly very aware of how Virgil’s normally slouched position became deathly straight, face calm, “Uh...Virge…?”

Roman feels like he forgot something important.

Virgil smiled, “What did that snake-fucker Dmitri do?”

Bingo, that’s what he forgot.

It wasn’t like Virgil’s thing with Dee was something that could be traced back to one particular incident, more like a culmination of the two being forced into being in each others general vicinity when they did not in fact want that company.

Roman avoided that drama, mainly because Virgil and him could hardly stand each other at the time either. So most of what he knows is second hand.

Though Virgil has explained it as, “When he opens his mouth, my flight or fight response is activated.” and as far as Roman knows Dmitri just returned the sentiment.

Roman shoved another spoonful of cereal in his mouth, “Chill, it’s Nothing, really, just, he said something that caught me off guard, that’s all.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed, “If he does it again, tell me,” he said, “Logan says I can restart the prank war with probable cause.”

Roman shrugged,“-Kay” he said

He will most certainly not.

---

D:Sanders? from 3rd block?

R: ye who else would i be??? where is this other roman???

D:Who knows? How do I know you’re not Virgil w/ Roman’s phone?

R: //gasp// i am no fake.

D: Proof?

R:[Picture: Roman’s knees are pulled to his chest, him pouting at the camera.

His hair dyed aubrun and thrown into a messy bun, paint and freckles littering his brown skin]

[ThatOneGuyThatVirgilHates <3’s a picture]

D: Oh thank god you are the cute one

---

[out of the way fives]

Hotleg: so.

Sipsipsippin: dammit roman.

Hotleg: i didnt even say anything how dare

Sipsipsippin:hon, i dated you, i know.

Hotleg: we made out like once

Sipsipsippin: i know.

Hotleg: it was like, eigth grade

Sipsipsipin: i k n o w

Hotleg: ok, ok wise and powerful, remington. Guess who it is, bitch.

Sipsipsippin: ill bite

Sipsipsippin: logan?

Hotleg:....

Hotleg: id say ew, but,,,im not entirely agnst that, ,,, i

Hotleg: nope no, it is not infact logan

Sipsipsippin: FUCK i owe pat a five

Hotleg:????betrayl??????in my sanctum????

Sipsipsippin: shh, i did not type that and you saw nothing

Sipsipsippin: gah give me a hint

Hotleg: hes,,,, good with his hands ;)

----

Remy slammed his hands down the table, “Roman you filthy animal tell me who it is.”

A few people nearby looked up, startled, but not entirely surprised. Patton still winced, pointedly looking at his book and pretending like he didn’t know these actual public disturbances but didn’t bother to move. Which is hard to do regardless, when one Roman has made your shoulder his home.

“Sorry can’t speak english,” Roman said, exaggerating his drawl. He picked off of the leftovers on Patton’s plate, avoiding the daggers being driven into him from behind Remy’s tinted frames.

“Patton, do you know?” Remy asked.

Patton frowned, “Know what?” He flipped a page.

“Our wittle Roman’s got a cwush.” Remy slid into a chair, grabbing a fry.

Patton tilted his head, giving Roman a smile, “A crush you say?”

“Shit.” Roman moved to scramble out of his seat, but Patton somehow managed to put down his book, and fit his arm snug around his waist, tugging him lightly back down.

“Pattonnnn,” He whined, “This is an abuse of my need for affection.”

“Poor baby boy,” Patton hummed, “So, about this crush.”

“C’mon Pat, it could just be a squish,”

“Ro, do you find all your squishies that attractive?” Remy said.

“I find all of my friends aesthetically pleasing, I love you all, lots. I would kill for all of you without hesitation.” Patton rested his chin on Roman’s head, “Did he talk about their hands?” he asked pointedly.

“He wrote poetry.”

“Not to romo,” Patton said, “but yeah it’s a Roman Crush™.”

“I just said how much I loved you guys and this is the betrayal I receive? I thought y’all were the Evagiline to my Ray- instead you’re the animation industry to my animators.”

“Bitch, you bugged me all last week about the same shit,” Remy shot back, lovingly, “Karma’s here, so tell me his name or I’m stealing your toenails and feeding them to your first born.” He sipped his drink, face victorious.

Mid gasp, Roman felt Patton’s grip around his waist tighten. He turned around curiously finding Patton’s attention no longer at the table.

Roman followed his line of sight, blinking, “Dmitri?”

“You have a crush on D--fuck,” Remy hissed, rubbing where Roman’s heel dug into his thigh.

“Sorry can’t hear you,” Roman gritted through his teeth, “--call again after the beep bi-Hi Dee!”

Patton leaned back in his chair, picking up his book again but had yet to remove his arm.

Dmitri shifted the tray in his hands, “Uh, hey,” he smiled, “Can I talk to you?” His hair was down today, the short bob barely falling past his shoulders, but his clothes were noticeably covered paint, yet frustratingly enough other than that, nothing seemed ruffled or half assed. All clean lines and angles.

“What about?” Roman’s brow furrowed.

“Yeah,” Remy chimed, waggling his eyebrows, “What abou-oW.”

Dmitri ignored that, “Can I talk to you,” He glanced at Patton, “Privately,” he emphasised, “I found some old art magazines and projects in the library storage room, Mrs. Ider said we can check it out.”

“Uh, okay,” Roman nodded dumbly. He hopped up, snagging a fry before he followed Dmitri.

Walking down the long stretch of hallway, Roman found himself checking his watch several times- something he hardly ever does. Yet, the uncomfortable silence lingered, with only Dmitri’s avoident gazes and the clicks of Roman’s boots to fill the silence.

Lucky for Roman, his tendency for avoidance was relatively short on supply.

“Did I do something wrong?” Roman forced himself not to wince at how needy he sounded.

Dmitri opened the door for him, blinking, “Of course--” his voice dropped to a a whisper as the entered, “Of course not, why do you say so?”

“You seem different?”

“We’ve hardly talked before, aside from text.” Dmitri reasoned, tone awfully similar to when Logan’s trying to justify consuming an entire jar of Crofters in one sitting.

“Dee,” Roman said, raising an eyebrow, “That’s true, but you’re hardly one to get… nervous,” he said, “I’ve heard enough stories from Virgil alone to know.”

Dee froze, neither smiling or frowning, “What… type of stories.” His cheeks were delightfully pinched pink. “Tell me what I did wrong and--” Roman switched on the light to the libraries storage room, hiding a wicked smile as he glanced back, “And I’ll tell you some of my favorites.”

“Just wonderful,” Dmitri muttered, stepping inside as well, “But truthfully you did nothing wrong, I just don’t quite know how to do apologies.”

“Same,” Roman said, “Where are the ‘zines?” he distractedly asked, dragging the step ladder from behind the door.

“Back, left shelf,” Dmitri replied. He steadied the step ladder as Roman climbed up searching the dusty shelves. “What were you trying to not apologize for?” Roman asked, dropping magazines to the floor beside him.

“The...flirting?”

“Oh just the flirting?” he paused, holding a magazine to his chest, “Oh.” he repeated, now breathless. Dmitri looked way, ”Yeah, it didn’t mean anything, sorry,” he said, “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend, I swear I’m usually only a little sleazy.”

“So,” Roman dropped the next magazine, ”It was a joke.” He said a bit quieter, the magazine slapped the ground with more force.

“So is everything cool or…?”

“Uh,” Roman breathed in, blinking rapidly, “Uh, yeah it's all-- Wait, did you say boyfriend?”

“Yes...Is he not?”

“Who, who would--Oh. Oh, No, Patton isn’t--” Roman’s shoulders sagged, “We’re just friends.”

Roman stepped down from the ladder and was met with Dmitri’s look of skepticism.

“Oh, then I meant every word.” Dmitri said, all too casually, “Are you always so touchy with your friends?” he questioned, voice softer.

“Only if they want to.” Roman shrugged, “What do you and your friends do?”

“I don’t have… that many,” Dmitri admitted with a shrug of his own, the two of them hefting up their own pile of magazines, “And the ones I do would probably punch me if I tried anything like that.”

“Do you want to be able to do that?” Roman questioned, tugging open the door with ease, holding it open for Dmitri with his back. Dmitri was quiet, the two settling the stacks onto a table.

“Hey you don’t have to answer it’s really no pressu--”

“No it's fine,” Dmitri said, hugging his arms, “I’d… think I would, but I doubt any of my friends would want to…” His nose curled, “They’d tell me to piss off and get a girlfriend,”

“Well,” Roman said, “I’m your friend, and I’m certainly not going to promote the heterosexual agenda, unless that’s your thing, so I guess the awful duty of cuddles befalls on me,” He winked.

Dmitri looked at him again, “...I guess it does.”

Ao3

#Roman Sanders #Deceit Sanders #Sanders Sides #Sanders Sides Fanfiction #Virgil Sanders #Remy Sanders #Patton Sanders #Deceit's name is Dmitri #Sympathetic Deceit #Roceit #Romantic Roceit #Multichaptered #Antithesis #Crossposted

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reyloforcebalance · 6 years

Text

Bonded Chapter 26: Confession

The newest chapter to my Reylo fanfic (rated T). If you want to check out the previous chapters, here’s the link to AO3!

“Eighty-seven.”

Admiral Madani taps the meeting table twice for emphasis. Tendrils of gray hair fall over her face as she leans forward, her gaze fiery with warning. She scans the room methodically, making eye contact with every Resistance leader gathered around the table.

“Eighty-seven systems in barely over a year.” The older woman looks directly at Rey as she articulates the last words. “What were once independent or government-owned mining operations are now the property of the First Order, by negotiation or by force.” She continues to scan the room, her jaw hardened in muted fury.

“This isn’t about building dreadnoughts and star destroyers. This isn’t about finishing Starkiller II.” The admiral sits back, shaking her head. “Oh no. What we’re seeing here is nothing less than a systematic attempt to control all the precious resources throughout the galaxy.”

A Mon Calamari man next to the General immediately scoffs, or at least Rey thinks it’s a scoff. It sounds more like a gurgle…

“Nonsense,” he says dismissively, smacking his fish-like lips together. “Even the Empire never attempted such a thing. And they were ten times the size of the First Order.”

“You do realize…” Another admiral leans forward now, a middle-aged man with gray flecks in his dark hair. “That the First Order is catching up, don’t you? They’ve tripled in size. Their recruitment’s exploded in the last three months alone, and according to our intel, most of those numbers are being funneled into mining teams.” He casts a glance over to Madani, and she nods, grateful for the support.

“Recruitment numbers aside, it’s still not feasible.” A young colonel shakes her head, her lips pressed together in a thin line. “There are too many systems in the galaxy. There’s no way the First Order can control the resources on all of them. It’s just not possible.”

“Ok, first of all…” Poe suddenly sits up from his slouched position. “They don’t have to control all the resources, just the most valuable ones. That’ll be enough to have the galaxy by the balls. But more importantly, think about this.” He leans into the meeting table, his eyes fixed on the colonel across from him.

“Right now, the First Order’s playing nice. They’re negotiating. They’re paying for the resources and then some— commissioning building projects, opening up new trade routes. Even when they do take mines by force, they spin it as a kind of law enforcement, rescuing the galaxy from the Outer Rim gangs,” he finishes with an air of sarcasm.

“But what do you think’s gonna happen once they finish Starkiller II, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, his expression darkening. “How do you think their negotiations will go then?” He looks around the table, beckoning someone to supply the obvious answer.

A crushing silence descends over the room as the Resistance leaders cast their gaze downwards, growing grim and unsettled. Rey joins them, looking intently at her hands clasped in her lap.

“Trust me.” Poe sits back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Their progress right now will look slow by comparison. They won’t need to negotiate anymore. All they’ll have to do is show up and give systems a choice— hand over your resources or get blasted into space.” Admiral Madani nods in agreement.

“Exactly.” Madani turns to the General at the head of the table. “If you think about Starkiller, how they can use it to bully systems into giving them what they want, it’s really not that far-fetched. What we’re seeing now could just be the beginning of a large-scale effort to control the galaxy’s economy.”

The General listens carefully, sitting back in her chair, her eyes sharp with thought. She’s been quiet for most of the meeting, though this isn’t unusual.

Rey’s noticed this about the General. She spends more time listening than she does talking.

“Admiral Patel,” the General finally speaks, nodding to the middle-aged man across from her. “Do you have anything new to report on Starkiller II’s progress?”

“Not really.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “From what we can tell, construction is essentially complete. And yet…” His eyebrows furrow as his voice trails off. “The weapon isn’t active yet. We would know if it were. They must be missing something.”

“It’s kyber.” Rey speaks without thinking, but immediately catches herself, looking around the table self-consciously. She’s met by a row of knitted eyebrows.

“It must be, right?” She sounds more tentative now. “I mean the first Starkiller was built on a kyber-rich planet for a reason, was it not?”

“Dear, the weapon is powered by quintessence, not kyber.” A tall, pale-skinned admiral corrects her, his voice tinged with condescension.

Admiral Patel tsks his tongue, then starts to shake his head.

“That doesn’t mean she’s wrong.” He looks over to Rey. “The Death Star ran on kyber. It’s not a stretch to assume the weapon on Starkiller needs kyber in some way. Maybe not the same way, but…” He brings a hand to rub his jaw as he mulls over this prospect.

“If she’s right, that’s good news,” the Mon Calamari man announces, looking at the General next to him. “It means we have time. There’s precious little kyber left in the galaxy. It could take years before the First Order gets what they need.”

“Wait a minute,” Poe sputters. “This is all conjecture. And even if it’s not, the First Order could happen upon a massive trove of kyber tomorrow for all we know. We can’t wait around hoping the First Order’s hit a snag. We’ve got to act now.” He shoots forward in his chair, his eyes intense with urgency.

“It’s time for us to take the offense.” He twists towards the General. “We’re ready. Our numbers are picking up, thanks to Rey.” He gestures towards her. “And as long as Starkiller isn’t active, the First Order’s at a disadvantage. Now is the time to strike. Before another Hosnian Prime, not after.”

The General gazes at Poe evenly, taking a few moments to process. Finally, she leans forward, clasping her hands together on the table.

“Poe,” she begins in her signature tone, firm yet gentle. “I agree we need to destroy the weapon before it becomes operational.” She tilts her head in concession. “But we can’t forget that we’re fighting a war against the First Order, not Starkiller II. Whatever we destroy can be rebuilt.”

“She’s right,” Admiral Madani says with a heavy sigh, looking over at Poe. “If we go after Starkiller now, the First Order will snuff us out, just like they did before. Then they’ll turn around and build another Starkiller.” Poe drops his shoulders and sits back in his chair.

“So, what?” He shrugs, sounding exasperated. “What do we do? Just leave Starkiller alone because they could build another one?”

“Of course not.” Admiral Patel shoots Poe an admonishing look. “But we need to wait for the right time, when the First Order is weak and destabilized, in a poor position to bounce back.” Several Resistance leaders nod their heads in agreement.

“Absolutely,” a Cerean colonel with a long, gray beard speaks up. “If we’re going to take the offense, destabilizing the regime must be our priority. Then we go after Starkiller.”

“So, let’s hit them where it hurts.” Madani leans into the table with a little fire in her eyes. “They’re rabid to get their hands on these resources, so let’s do everything we can to slow them down.” She twists towards the General in her chair. “Let’s send out teams to interfere with their negotiations, convince as many systems as we can to keep their resources independently owned, help them understand what the First Order’s doing, what could happen if they gain a monopoly over varium and cortosis and iridium—”

“If we do that,” a young colonel interrupts, “we’ll make ourselves targets. All of our new bases, our new recruits— they’ll be vulnerable. We still have a long way to go before we’re strong enough to sustain an all-out war. And our growth is contingent on staying off the First Order’s radar. If we start directly interfering with their negotiations…?” The colonel’s tone darkens ominously. Madani sighs, exasperated.

“It’s going to happen sooner or later, you know.” She raises an eyebrow at the young colonel. “We can’t lay low forever. We haven’t been recruiting and building bases so we can twiddle our thumbs. Dameron’s right.” She nods towards Poe. “It’s time for us to take the offense.”

“I agree…” Admiral Patel starts slowly, his tone measured and contemplative. “But perhaps for the time being, we should go about this indirectly, pursue more subtle ways to weaken their regime.”

“And what?” Madani huffs. “Just ignore them as they bull their way through the galaxy, devouring its most valuable resources as they go?”

“Admiral,” the General suddenly interrupts the exchange, “You’re right to be concerned about this issue. It’s one we can’t and won’t ignore. But the others are right. We’re not yet strong enough to invite direct conflict with the First Order.” She shakes her head firmly. Then she begins to scan the table, making eye contact with the other leaders.

“I understand that most of you believe it’s time to mount an offense.” Her gaze lingers on Poe as she continues scanning. “So, let’s mount an offense. But let’s be smart about it. I’ve fought this kind of war before. This time, I want the victory to last.” She cocks her head pointedly.

“We need to plan for the long term,” she continues, sitting back in her chair. “We need consider everything we’ve heard today and piece together the bigger picture, how we can sow seeds of discord on multiple fronts. When we attack Starkiller, and we will.” The General raises an eyebrow. “It must be planned strategically. It must be at a time when the First Order’s martial forces are stretched thin, when they have their hands full with something that requires them to put out many fires at once.”

“I-” Rey starts tentatively, sitting up in her chair. She can’t help but grow self-conscious when everyone at the table turns towards her. “I have an idea for how we might do that, actually.”

The General looks over at her, intrigued. She nods to Rey as if to say, “Go on.” Rey scoots forward in her chair, clearing her throat.

“Some of you know,” she begins in a clear tone, trying to project confidence. “that I’m the leader of a project that does slave outreach throughout the galaxy. Its mission is to develop relationships with organizations that fight slavery and support them in whatever way we can.” Rey scans the table, making eye contact with the Resistance leaders. “As it turns out, that mostly means helping with slave rescues. In fact, since I started the project, that’s where the majority of our new recruits are coming from. Every time we do a slave rescue, nearly a third of them join the Resistance afterwards.” Several eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“These are very valuable recruits.” Rey taps an index finger on the table. “They’re people who work hard, have a range of skills, and are extremely committed to being part of an organization that cares about others like them. They’re concerned with how slavery has been spreading since the First Order destroyed the New Republic. They want to stop it.”

“I’m no supporter of slavery,” the Cerean colonel suddenly speaks up, turning towards Rey. “But I don’t see how stopping it has anything to do with destabilizing the First Order’s regime.”

“Those two things could be much more related then you think, Colonel.” Rey glances over at the Cerean slyly, and he narrows his eyes, doubtful but curious. Rey starts scanning the table again.

“When I started this project,” she continues, “I learned very quickly that most of the organizations that fight slavery are very distrustful and very isolated. But…” She raises a knowing eyebrow. “That’s starting to change. Because of us. The Resistance is becoming the glue that connects these efforts across the galaxy. More than that, our training bases are becoming a meeting ground of sorts, a place where those passionate against slavery come together, share experiences, and develop relationships. They’re building a network.” Rey leans into the table. “A network that could in time…” She pauses a moment, a slow smile creeping across her lips. “Orchestrate a large-scale slave rebellion.” Several Resistance leaders jerk back, struck by this idea, immediately registering its implications.

“Imagine,” Rey intones forcefully, “if every slave market and every operation that runs on slave labor across the galaxy explodes into chaos all at once.” She shakes her head. “It’ll be a nightmare for the First Order. They’ll have dispatch troops all over, especially to systems where they have property to protect.” Poe shoots forward in his chair.

“That’s when we strike.” He points to Rey excitedly.

“Exactly.” She leans towards him. “And not only that, but it’s very possible a slave rebellion could quickly transform into another kind of rebellion altogether. Given an association between the Resistance and the fight against slavery, given that this will be set into motion by Resistance members who are former slaves themselves, it’s not a stretch to count on many of these rebelling slaves joining us and turning their ire in the First Order’s direction.” At this, Admiral Patel tsks his tongue, scrunching his face in doubt

“I don’t know about that,” he starts slowly, pursing his lips. “These days, the First Order is building an association as well. After Delphon and now Apatros, many view them as a friend of slaves.” Several groans erupt around the table.

“It’s true.” The Mon Calamari man shakes his head. “They’re calling Kylo Ren the savior of Apatros, you know.” Poe immediately scoffs.

“You don’t think he actually did that, do you?” He challenges caustically. “Lead the slaves out of the mines himself?”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” the Mon Calamari replies. “It matters what the galaxy believes.”

“And that,” Admiral Madani points to him emphatically. “That’s the real problem with this idea, isn’t it? We can’t expect a large-scale slave rebellion to somehow morph into a rebellion against the First Order when a sizable portion of the galaxy’s population is starting to view Kylo Ren as a hero. A hero.”

“That man,” the Cerean colonel spits through gritted teeth, “is no hero.” He slams his fist on the table. “He spent the last decade racking up a body count that rivals Darth Vader’s.”

“I know, I know.” Madani sighs, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “But you must realize that some people are starting to forget. They’re starting to forget the man who did those things. More and more, when they see Kylo Ren, they see the heart of Delphon, the savior of Apatros. They see the man who rebuilds their temples and marketplaces, who destroys vicious Outer Rim gangs. They see a leader who brings order and justice.” At this, the Cerean colonel grunts.

“That’s the biggest shock of all, isn’t it?” He looks around the table in disbelief. “If you compare Kylo Ren to Snoke, think about what he’s been doing since he came to power…” He shakes his head as his voice trails off. “He’s twice the leader Snoke ever was. He realizes that when it comes to controlling the galaxy, perception is half the battle, who people see at the hero and who they see as the villain. So, he’s trying to become the hero, trying to change the First Order’s image. And it’s working.”

“It’s unbelievable.” Poe slicks a hand over his face, sulking back in his chair. “Who knew that little shit would actually be a half-decent leader?” Admiral Patel snorts in response.

“You’re not really that surprised, are you?” The admiral looks over to Poe but a second later jerks back, eyes wide, like he just realized he said something he shouldn’t have.

A wave of confusion ripples across the room as the Resistance leaders collectively turn their heads to Patel. They stare with knitted eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

The admiral gulps, casting his gaze downward, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. A long silence passes before he straightens, clearing his throat.

“Of cour—” He starts but immediately stops, tugging at his collar as though it’s suddenly too tight. Finally, he drops his hand, letting out a nervous exhale.

“Of course, he’s a competent leader,” he finishes quietly. “He’s his mother’s son.”

The instant the words leave his mouth, Rey feels her heart cleaved in two, an explosion of the cruelest pain imaginable.

But this feeling isn’t coming from her…

It’s coming from the General.

Read the rest on AO3!

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #reylo #ben solo #rey star wars #general leia #leia organa #reylofanfic #reylofanfiction #romance #romancefanfiction #kylo ren #kylo x rey #ben x rey

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yall-cant-handel-this-blog · 5 years

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Blog Post #15

Wagner, Isreal, and the Palestinians

In this first reading, they first introduced the genius of Wagner’s music, then went on to introduce his anti-semitic beliefs and finally introduced the discussion regarding the debate of playing Wagner’s music in Isreal. They make the argument that by continuing to outlaw Wagner’s music in Isreal it is like giving in and letting Hitler have the last word.

To a degree, I understand this argument because I can imagine that Hitler would’ve been selfish with such great German music as composed by Wagner and he himself might’ve called for the banning of Wagnerian compositions being played in a place the Jewish race claimed as their own. He might of asserted that they didn’t deserve it or something, and if that was the case then I would say hell yeah let’s defy Hitler’s wishes and let’s not exclude Jew’s from things as amazing and Wagner’s works.

But on the other hand, I approach this conversation with cultural lenses trying to understand this dilemma, for example, today there are a lot of accusations made about various artists regarding their behavior and beliefs and if something surfaces that goes against what I think is right and fair, such as R Kelly’s sexual assault charges, I have actively chosen to disown his most famous songs. I think this is an ok practice even if the song is extremely influential. As for Wagner’s music, this argument can’t be made so lightly because of how genius and innovative he truly was. But yet, I still think his very outspoken beliefs kind of warrants that his music should be selectively played and not in places that were the target of his disdain.

Divorcing music from anti-Semitism, Israeli soprano takes on taboo at Wagner-fest

In this reading, my first point made above was asserted by one of the Jewish artists performing at Wagner’s festival; Wagner wanted a Jewish cleansing and by performing his works it’s kind of like nuts to him, ya know? I think we just have to ask ourselves if his beliefs can be expunged on the basis of his genius and innovative music advancements. It’s just hard to imagine that we can say we’re actively working against Wagner’s beliefs by encouraging Jews to perform and enjoy his music when we’re bringing more attention and praise to him. To me, this is kind of saying “look we know what you believed and it’s not ok but it’s kind of ok because we still like your music”, I just don’t think much is being done to condone his beliefs although he deserves it. For this reason, I feel kind of slimy that we’re going to his opera because I don’t really want to support someone that was so actively and vocally anti-semitic. I definitely think that when introduced Wagner should be first labeled an anti-semite and second a genius composer, so that people can actively make the choice whether to support someone like that. I’m not saying we should throw out all Wagnerian improvements made to music and theater, but his additions should be taken with consideration and we can’t ever stop condemming him for his beliefs. Nuts to Wagner.

Wagner and Me

1. Stephen Fry also grapples with the question of whether or not to take Wagner’s music as it is and for the genius it is or to always engage with the disdain that he was a vocal anti-semite. He comes to the conclusion that he doesn’t want the music to be lost in a shroud of hate and he actively chooses to enjoy Wagner’s art. I can understand his argument that we shouldn’t let his hate win and we shouldn’t lose the genius of his music to the Nazi’s but I still face a bit cognitive dissonance over the whole matter. I suppose I’ll have to see if seeing his opera is worth it at the end after I’ve seen it in person.

2. I learned a few things from this little documentary;

First, I learned that I recognize more of Wagner’s compositions then I thought I did.

Second, I hadn’t known, although I’m not really surprised that, Wagner’s relatives still are head directors in production of his operas in Bayreuth.

Third, after seeing his grave, I realize they might of made it in honor of his original opera house in Bayreuth...., plain, simple, intended to not take away from the genius within. (;

Fourth, that really awful writer guy, Wagner’s son-in-law, supported and even endorsed Hitler to the Wagner’s when he was first emmerging in German politics.

Finally, the Ring Cycle is 18 hours long in its entirety (17 if you take a nap!).

“Lohengrin” chapter

1. The chapter says that the opera is based on myths incorporating archetypes from the medieval fairytale time, such as knights, kings, witches, magic swans, kings, and damsels in distress.

2. I think it is possible that Wagner saw himself as Lohengrin, because Wagner described him as an artist, a higher being, somewhat above the world, but not exempt from the need of love. Looking at Wagner’s life we know that he quite enjoyed the ladies and also considered himself to be a great artist on his own accord even without the confirmation of the masses. I think it’s possible he was projecting how he felt about himself by creating a character such as Lohengrin.

3. An overture incorporating themes from the entire opera, where a prelude does not, a prelude stands on its own and is more so beautiful than meaningful in the sense of introducing the opera’s themes.

4. Elsa is on trial for the murder of Gottfried, because she goes in the woods with him and returns without him.

5. It seems to me that the only note of the location that Telramaund and Ortrud are banished to is the courtyard of Antwerp Castle, the location of the opera, which makes sense because it would be hard to create two distinct locations on a stage and still have the characters interact with each other. (Although a lot of opera asks the audience to use a bit of imagination, perhaps this was too much of a stretch)

6. Elsa wants to know Lohengrin’s name because she feels that by not even getting to know his name she is somehow below him and that if she is below him then he very well may get bored of her and may leave her for someone else.

7. Ortrud drops dead because she is shocked when Gottfried transforms back from being a swan.

8. Lohengrin kills Telramaund in one blow in his castle room. Ortrud is a pagan, meaning she practices witchcraft. Elsa falls lifeless when Lohengrin leaves on his swan boat after announcing his name.

9. The joke about Kaiser Willhem II being photographed in full swan knight drag or the joke about the actor missing his paper mache swan boat during one of the performances? both funny stories.

10. I’m most excited for elaborate sets, and to see how they project the swan boat (lowkey I hope they use a real swan or like a fleet of real swans) and also to see how the actor of Ortrud portrays the part.

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redditnosleep · 6 years

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On The Russian Ice Road, You Always Help Your Fellow Travelers

by TheCityOfS

When people hear my wife’s Russian, they imagine a tall blonde girl with a funny accent who wears heels for every grocery run. Reality couldn’t be farther from the stereotype: Lana is dark haired, speaks better English than I do, and is completely obsessed with sneakers. She does meet ONE stereotype, though: she never gets cold, seeing how she lived in Russia until she was eighteen.

Not in Moscow, of course. Did you know that Moscow’s actually pretty warm? There are entire states in America where winters are far colder than anything Moscovites ever have to deal with. No, my wife comes from a tiny town far up Russian north, on the tundra. A dark, gloomy, and a very cold place inside the Arctic Circle, with extremely harsh winters and even harsher people. A place that meets the stereotypes.

I’ve met my in-laws all of two times including our wedding, both times as they traveled to the States. Frankly, I never had any intention of visiting my Lana’s hometown, until she got that fateful call nine days ago. My mother in law had had a stroke. While her condition was stable for the time being, the local doctor expected the worst could happen at any minute. Transporting her to a better hospital was out of question as she was in no state for the kind of a journey that you’ll see described below.

My wife made travel arrangements immediately. I had a valid Russian visa from a business trip to Moscow a few weeks prior so I decided to go with her. Now, getting to my wife’s hometown isn’t easy. You’re in for a flight to Moscow, then a connecting flight to Norilsk, one of the biggest cities in the Russian tundra. From there, it’s an hour long trip down the Yenisei river, by barge in summer and on cars over ice in the winter.

Urgently getting to Moscow wasn’t that hard. There, however, we faced additional difficulties. First of all, apparently I couldn’t actually fly to Norilsk with Lana as the city was closed to foreigners. Before we could even process that, we were told that Norilsk airport was closed for all aircraft due to poor weather conditions and the weather wasn’t expected to improve that week. I tried to console Lana as best as I could, but news of her mom getting worse drove her crazy. Soon, Lana suggested an “alternative”: it was possible to fly to a city a fair bit south of Norilsk which was safe from the storms. For a modest fee, a family friend living there was willing to take a day’s journey up the ice road to Lana’s hometown. Well, more like a night’s journey since according to him, it was better to travel at night by car’s lights than by what passed as daylight.

I told my wife she was insane. She, however, was adamant on her plan, saying she’s done zimnik (how Russians call their ice roads) many times with her dad and it was perfectly safe. She wouldn’t budge no matter how I pleaded and told me I was welcome to stay in Moscow. Obviously, that was not an option, and in the end I gave up.

We flew to our next destination, and the cold hit me as soon as I stepped out of the plane. It was a different kind of cold, invasive and ruthless, and it didn’t care about layers of sweaters and socks I had on. I shivered imagining how much colder it was going to get.

We met with the trucker who was to take us up North. He called himself Kolya, and my wife “Sveta”, the Russian version of her name. Me, he didn’t call at all, instead referring to me derisively as “Mister Amerikashka” whenever he spoke to my wife. Lana told me with a chuckle she didn’t tell Kolya I could understand Russian, although I don’t think he would’ve cared.

Kolya was supposed to be a few years younger than my wife but looked much older, his skin and posture worn down by the harsh conditions of his homeland. He laughed at our American shoes and coats and said he would pack extra jackets, woolen socks and valenki for us “just in case.” His brother helped load his truck, which looked like it had seen the fall of the Soviet Union, and then Kolya sat down to enjoy a shot of vodka. One for the road.

My wife saw me blanch at that.

“This isn’t New York, or even Moscow,” she said quietly. “People here are a bit behind in terms of DUI. Don’t worry, he won’t drink enough to get impaired, he’s seen that kill people on the road.”

Well.

Indeed, the first shot was the last and Kolya hopped into the truck. He offered my wife the shotgun seat which, as far as I understood Russian macho culture, was basically equivalent of throwing a glove in my face. Whatever. As long as he got us there.

The road was a dark stretch of ice and packed snow powdered by the fresh snow that had fallen that morning. Snowdrifts bordered both sides of the roads and leaked onto its surface a fair bit. Otherwise, it was the same barren flat surface for miles. In the first couple of hours, we saw a few cars going the opposite way to us. Then a car going in the same direction as us overtook us and disappeared in the darkness ahead at surprising speeds. It was a freaking tiny, rusted-through Subaru. I gave up on understanding Russians then and there.

Shortly after the Subaru guy, it started snowing. Just a bit at first, then more and more. Kolya didn’t seem bothered and I tried to stay calm as well, which I managed mostly successfully until the wind joined in. Unlike the snow, it started hard from the get go.

Have you ever heard wind howling and become unsettled by the sound? Now imagine the same, but in the depths of a black night lit only by your car’s headlights. Except for your own vehicle, the world around is silent and devoid of life, frozen until the spring. Not that you can see much through the thick snow that is now the wind’s plaything, flurrying around the car, blanketing the windows.

Our pace slowed to a crawl as Kolya swore colorfully in Russian. “Maybe stop and wait it out?” I suggested nervously.

“We can’t.” Lana said without bothering to ask our driver. “If we stop there’s a good chance the car won’t start up again, and we are stuck here waiting for someone to pick us up. And it’s been… empty today.”

The realization we were at a very real risk of freezing to death hit me like a ton of bricks. I leaned back into my seat and closed my eyes, wordlessly praying for the best. The only response was the wind howling – and it sounded so strange. It would start low and quiet and then get louder and louder until a yowling crescendo, then cut off abruptly. Then start again. And the sound came from different directions, each starting at a different time, like a pack of wolves howling.

I opened my eyes to obvious tension in the car. Lana and Kolya were both hunched forward, peering intently through the glass for all the good it did them. Kolya glanced back at me.

“Don’t worry, be happy!” Kolya proclaimed with a horrible Russian accent. “It is all OK! Don’t worry, America!”

He was lying. I might have been useless on the ice road, but I was a criminal defense lawyer, and a good one at that. And Kolya was a bad liar. There was sweat beading on his face and neck, and his voice was forced. He was very much scared – and that made me scared, too.

Kolya murmured something to my wife, too quick and quiet for my distracted mind to decipher. She nodded.

“What was that?”

“There’s a village maybe half an hour up the road, if we keep this pace. We get there and settle down until the morning.”

“I see. Sorry about the delay.” In reality I was extremely happy to hear that. “Bad wind, huh?”

Lana grabbed my hand, quick and sudden as a snake. “Don’t. Mention. The Wind.”

Another sound came through the storm. A long, tinny wail that sent shivers down my spine. It took me a few moments to recognize the familiar sound of the wind whistling through walls and chimney. And then another moment to realize there were no fucking walls around for the wind to whistle.

I opened my mouth to comment, and my wife’s grip tightened on my arm. In that moment, I knew to keep it quiet.

We drove in tension-filled silence as a cacophony of sounds erupted through the storm. Wails and shrieks, howls and cries – no way no fucking wind was producing all of that.

The sounds grew closer, grew louder. I grabbed my wife’s hands as we both stared desperately ahead. Through the flurry, we barely made out something – a large, dark shape reflecting our lights, or maybe piercing the darkness with lights of its own…

Kolya swore and swerved to the side. We were passing another car stuck in the snow. Its blinkers flashed.

“Stop.” Lana said, sudden and harsh.

“What?” Kolya asked, in Russian. “You insane?”

“Stop.” My wife repeated. “On the ice road, you help. That’s the rule, remember?”

Kolya gave her a long, hard look that I didn’t like at all. “That’s the rule on the road.” He echoed, and hit the brakes, slowing the car without actually stopping. I opened the door and peered outside. The driver of the stuck vehicle was already running towards us. I recognized the car itself as the Subaru that passed us earlier.

“Thank God you people were…” the driver began. “Get in, idiot!” Kolya shouted, and the guy shut up and jumped in. He was just a kid, no older than twenty, with dark red hair and a patchy little beard. He looked cold and terrified.

“Thank god!” He repeated, in a hushed whisper. “I was sure they’d get me.”

“They?” I asked, confused. Kolya and Lana turned to look at the kid in unison, and their looks could kill.

“They, yeah, I mean the wind and snow,” the kid corrected quickly. I had a sudden abrupt feeling that it was too late for that… even as I still had no clue what was going on. We drove on, and the interplay of howls and shrieks outside the car became unbearable in the silence.

“What’s your name, dude?” I asked him in my best Russian. He blinked.

“Sergei. Sergei Molchanov. My parents are… anyway, it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have been driving, but I wanted to make it to my girlfriend’s birthday, and…”

“Both of you shut up.” My wife barked, and we did. Immediately I noticed the change in surrounding sounds – they were much louder now. The highest pitch shrieks rang in my ears. The low, insistent howling seemed to surround the car. And every now and then, something that sounded like an actual roar cut through the night.

The car picked up the pace. I looked at Kolya and realized he was absolutely flooring the gas pedal, poor visibility be damned. His truck was lurching along as fast as it could manage in the conditions, and yet the encroaching racket made it obvious we were nowhere near fast enough.

Then the car hit something. We were all jerked forward as the truck came to a staggering halt. I hit my temple hard on the back of my wife’s seat.

“What… was that?” I groaned.

“Must have hit a chunk of ice or something,” Lana's voice sounded strangely muffled. I remember focusing on her lips, and how pale and thin they looked. The dull resounding pain in my head exploded into something hot and overwhelming, and I collapsed into the backseat.

“He’s passed out!” Sergei called out. I wanted to correct him, but my voice wouldn’t obey me. My lids seemed to weigh a ton each – I could barely open my eyes enough to see the trio of Russians huddled together, the car’s flickering light illuminating their pale faces.

“What now?” Sergei asked nervously.

“Well, let’s see,” I don’t think I would’ve been able to understand complex Russian in that state, if it wasn’t my Lana speaking, her voice so familiar down to every inflection. “Why don’t you go out and check what we hit and if we can clear it out somehow?”

“What?!”

“We helped you, didn’t we?” In the car’s light, Lana’s green eyes seemed very blue. “So why don’t you help us back. After all, on the ice road you help each other. That’s the rule.”

Kolya grumbled in agreement. Then he reached over and pulled out a rifle, and aimed it at the boy.

Sergei whimpered. “You know they’re out there!”

“Well,” Lana’s voice was impeccably calm. Cold. “I guess you’d better not speak about them out loud, then. Better not even think about them, really. ”

My eyes closed against my will. I heard a door swing open, and a rush of cold air. Finally, I passed out for real, and in my unconsciousness I dreamed of horrified screaming and a single terrible roar that filled the night.

I came to during the day, on a couch of some local family that agreed to house us for a bit of cash. My wife fussed over me. Once she was sure I was conscious and lucid, she rushed me into the car saying we could do the rest of the drive by day, and an actual doctor could look at me in her hometown.

I settled in the backseat of the car. Vague memories haunted me.

“Where’s the kid? Sergei?”

“What kid, darling?” Lana asked, in sincere surprise.

“There was no kid, we traveled alone,” Kolya added, in Russian. And I wondered how he knew what I was asking about, or that I’d understand his answer. But aloud, I could only say: “This young redheaded guy…”

“Sweetie, I’m getting really worried. You must’ve hit your head harder than I thought. We gotta get you checked out as soon as we get back to the States. Maybe even a good checkup in Moscow…”

I didn’t really know what to say after that.

We made it the rest of the way uneventfully. Unfortunately, my mother in law had slipped into unconsciousness before we even set out for our drive, and she passed away several hours after our arrival. Lana didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye. She is absolutely devastated right now, so I’m trying my best to focus on comforting her. We’re staying here until the funeral, and I can’t stay I’m looking forward to the ride back.

My father in law graciously gifted me a proper Russian winter coat, so I went ahead and packed my American camel coat that proved terribly insufficient for the weather. As I was folding it, I noticed a few curly red hairs stuck to the light beige fabric.

And I felt so cold.

#creepy #horror story #russia #author: TheCityOfS

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fallenesspoetry · 6 years

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Venus and the Wolf (A Blindspot AU)

Summary:

A Roman/Tasha AU story, in which Jane’s memory hasn’t been wiped yet. Instead, she’s missing and presumed dead after the Orion mission had been taken down. A story, in which Roman makes a different decision, and a story, in which Tasha already is an undercover agent for the CIA, posing as an identity dealer.

It’s based on the scene in 2/17 when Roman remembers staring at Alice’s name at the papers for the trust fund (with the bank in the Bahamas) he was asked to cash out, sobbing.

A collab with @eachdressiown (Roman), I'm writing Tasha's POV.

Warning: Swearing.

Chapter Two “A Venus on Ice”

The heat was unbearably stifling, literally crunching on the tip of the tongue, its gritty taste rolling in the mouth. The sky was cloudless, and the sun shone in its full force, leaving no chance for the weather to change into something more humid.

A young woman stretched herself in the chair, desperately wishing the heat to slacken at least for a tiny bit. Her day had just started, so she had, at best, ten hours to go. Or more, if it was a busy day. But it seemed some people were followed by a trouble, so every day had become a busy one quite too often.

Usually, the clientele started coming in ranting how fast they needed the things done and refusing to agree on the price. It never ceased to amaze her how ridiculously dumb most of the people were. No one could comprehend a simple truth:

If you want to get something, you need to give something in return.

It was as simple as that. You could bend the rules, break the laws, but in the end of the day there was always something you had to give up.

The woman clicked the remote, lowering the temperature on the AC, not really expecting it would help. Just as it hadn't helped at all for the past hour. Right now she wished nothing more than to sink into the icy cold bath.

Her outfit made her even more irritated: the white tank top was clinging to her body, and denim shorts almost itched the skin. Her dark straight hair was pinned at the back into a messy knot, a few loose strands tickling her wet neck from time to time. But she couldn't care less about appearing unprofessional.

Anyway, lots of her clients were often hanging by a thread, and judging by their you-are-my-last-hope looks, they could have been fine even if she were naked. She just needed to make them dissolve as if they had never existed.

There was something rough about this particular woman. One could say various tests at the FBI and later at the CIA had certainly left their mark on her: a fit and tough figure as well as outstanding marksman skills made her an invaluable asset for any kind of an op. Especially off-the-books ops.

It was no time though, when the untamable nature got the best of her. Soon enough she got sick of constantly getting under one's thumb and being dependent on someone's dirty secrets.

And so, here she was, in Bahamas, running a business — well, not exactly a business — but it was much better than slaving on one's behalf in the middle of nowhere, risking to be thrown away at the exact second the things went sideways.

Just as she came back with an ice cube taken from the fridge, now pressing its refreshing coldness to her neck, sliding it back and forth, the phone rang.

The number was unknown. Well, it didn't matter. She would answer it anyway.

“¡Hola, señorita! ¿Cómo estás?” cheerfully wondered a cheeky voice, with raspy softness to it, masked by a quite decent Spanish pronunciation. She immediately recognized it:

Richdotcom.

For the past few years she got used to this man's eccentric way of having a conversation. She had to, anyway, since they both had started off this small ‘enterprise’.

Together they developed an intricately sophisticated way of bypassing any kind of security measures allowing to craft a completely untraceable new identity for those in need.

Her business partner was the most skillful hacker of the century who breached dozens of secure and unbreachable systems. And she was the rogue CIA agent going off the radar.

“What's up, Rich?” the woman asked, sounding as nice and polite as she could. Actually, the time went by and she got to like him, but it didn't change the fact he was nothing but a pain in the ass.

“Cold as ever, huh, Toots?”

“I swear if you call me anything but Tasha…”

“Would you mind to keep going? I don't want that ice cube to be wasted,” completely ignoring her, leisurely said Rich, his voice getting silkier and raspier.

“What if my gun is accidentally stuck somewhere it doesn't belong? What do you say about that?”

“I'll say, I'm all game for a good gun-play.”

Un-fucking-believable!

Just as Tasha thought about it, Rich continued:

“As much as I like to chat with you, I actually have a job here.”

“Ok, shoot.”

“So, the lead came from a guy we both know, so it should be solid. Let me double-check real quick...”

Rich made a pause, and Tasha heard the drumming strokes followed by occasional ‘What the…’ and “You're fucking kidding me!”

Meanwhile, the ice cube between her fingers had melted into a liquid. It trickled down her neck to her cleavage, tickling her a bit. She put the phone on a speaker mode, and rose, walking to take another one or two.

The sun seemed to penetrate with its scorching fingers even though the closed curtains. It felt as if one was trapped in the microwave, which was getting hotter and hotter with every second.

The place once was a two-storied flower shop, but Tasha and Rich expanded it into a cozy two-bedroom apartment on the second floor, and the office on the first floor.

For all the nosy go-byers there was a sign that this building was currently on sale, but the price was so sky-high that soon enough no one even dared asking for an estimate. There were a lot of much more cheaper options, and soon enough everyone had just quit to come. Rich also made sure the mayor didn't bother them too. Rumors travelled fast, so only those who had an urgent matter of disappearing from the radars could find their way in here.

Despite the house had been mostly her office for seven days a week, 365 days a year, Tasha liked it. It reminded her a bit if her own apartment with its minimalistic decor, yet preserving the coziness she remembered since that time.

Finally, sounding extremely angry, Rich hissed through his teeth:

“We have a problem. A fucking serious problem.”

Tasha had never heard him talking like that. Hell, she couldn't even remember when it was the last time Rich got angry over something.

“What is it? It can't be that bad, can it?”

“I can't confirm this fucking passport. Not a single trace. It's a damn fake! A good fake, actually. It took me a lot of effort to crack it. It's as fake as the whore's...”

“Please, don't even… So what do we do?”

“‘We’ don't do anything. You, on the other hand, have to meet with this guy. Because according to our idiotic middleman, this fella is on his way to you.”

Tasha got used to different kinds of clients as some of them were either thugs or complete jerks. But this time her gut told her that the guy she was about to meet was a different story. And certainly, confident as hell.

We'll see about that, — thought Tasha to herself. Rich was still murmuring curses as he fiercely typed something. Soon her laptop dinged with a few emails.

“I hate to bring it up, but what if he's… Well, he gets here, sees the place. He could be anyone, you know. What do you want me to do then, Rich?”

To be honest, such things happened not too often, but happened. Just like at any job, there were some complications. And in her line of work, these complications acquired a physical embodiment. It wasn't foreign for Tasha to kill in cold blood and cover her tracks, but it had become very much tiresome.

“Listen, we've talked about this. I'm not a big fan of dead bodies. That's why you get your extra clean up fee, right?”

Well, it was true. Leaning back on the chair, stroking her neck and arms with the ice, she said:

“I'm hoping you're right. I'd really hate to stick to my gun-play promise.”

They said good-byes and hang up. Just as Tasha was checking her gun, she noticed it became dark outside.

Apparently, the sun had finally hid behind a thick set of clouds slowly floating by. The clouds seemed to stall and become filthy gray, but it wasn't raining yet.

But Tasha didn't have time to admire the view as rushed to hide the case boxes with files. Once she was done, she also cleaned any papers left on every shiny surface in the office. A few of her other guns had been also re-loaded, and sticked with tape under the table and the chair.

For obvious reasons there was no alarm, but a special self-destruction protocol and other security measures had been in place. All the files being deleted, one could remotely set the house on fire by provoking an electric circuit failure.

Satisfied with how well she had prepared for her 'guest', Tasha took a quick shower and changed into another pair of shorts and another tank top, this time black.

Just as she got back to her laptop to open the email from Rich, the doorbell rang.

She rose, hiding the gun behind her back, and walked to the door. Pausing for a second, the woman took a deep breath, put on a polite smile and turned the doorknob.

Tasha blinked, making sure it was real.

The man, probably in his early thirties, stood in the doorway, curving his lip in an undecipherable grin.

He perfectly blended in with the environment, wearing a pale-blue shirt, loosened the way one could notice a hard, defined six-pack, and a pair of light shorts as well as sneakers.

Once he saw the door opened, he idly took his cap and sunglasses off, meeting her with the keen gaze of his light brown eyes with a bit green to them. His oval face was slightly tanned, and he had a one-day bristle. Grinning, he looked like a well-fed cat, glowing with a smug satisfaction.

One thing was certain — this man was making her skin crawl. She had dealt before with the most unpleasant and, sometimes, very horrifying men. But he... He was different. The inner strength was emanating from him, though she wouldn’t say he was a typical 'muscle' type.

The stranger was a bit taller than her — almost six feet. His fit figure, wide shoulders and well-defined muscular arms indicated he was always on the move, letting his vigorous self free.

Tasha had an odd feeling she could have known him. But, of course, that wasn't true.

He had something vaguely familiar about him. Was it his roughness reminding Tasha of her own untamed nature? Or, perhaps, the lone wolf-like intense stare?

He kept himself at ease, but she felt he was putting up a show. No, it wasn't nerves — Tasha was sure he was pretty much confident about himself as such a man could be.

The thing was, she sensed this particular man had a bunch of very unpleasant reasons to hide behind this carefree mask.

Meanwhile, the guy was shamelessly checking her out, not even bothering she would notice it. Well, she was used to get dirty looks so it wasn’t a big deal. Those who dared to cross the line got a set of a painful punches resulting in a few broken ribs. This guy hadn’t crossed it yet, so he might enjoy himself while he still could.

Returning him a smile, Tasha noticed a long and thin scar on his cheek. The wound edges were rigid, as if someone was using a piece of glass to cut him. The scar made him look even more dangerous and somehow attractive.

Certainly, this guy was constantly alert, always aware of the situation, and if needed, he could struck swiftly and ruthlessly. His veined, skillful hands with spider-like fingers, lean and long, had told the story to anyone who had a keen eye — he was undoubtedly capable of killing someone, no weapon needed. And one hadn’t needed to guess what happened to the person leaving him with the scar.

At least he seems to know what he wants.

Because most of the time the clients coming in here were nothing but a hopeless whining pieces of shit. It felt good to meet a man like him for a change.

Something told her, things were going to get very interesting.

TBC

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