#louis made a point to go up on barricade right where they were | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

halosluvchild · 1 year

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This is just my opinion I'm not trying to be negative towards anyone.

It's obvious to all of us that Louis loves being on barricade, and even more so the adrenaline he gets from it. We also know that it's obvious that fans in pit love it there is denying that because I do believe that if it wasn't for my panic disorder, and I had the opportunity to be at barricade and touch Louis I would love it as well. I also want to point out before I go any further that I am 100% aware that Louis is a 31 year old adult man who is fully capable of making logical, reasonable, responsible, and smart decisions about his health, safety and well-being. I am also 100% aware that I am 1 fan that in the larger scale scheme of things Louis has no idea who I am and even on the off chance that I did meet him and for some stupid reason bring this opinion up to him it would have no impact on his decisions because I am nobody.

Anyway we all know what happened on the barricade in Austin TX with Louis' tank top being almost completely ripped off. Now I don't hate the barricade run but I don't love it either. For me he could take it out of the show or keep it in for the rest of his life whatever makes him happy makes me happy in the long run, but I do believe Texas took it too far just like I thought LATAM took it too far last year. What prompted this post/rant is some weird comments from a Louis UA on insta that I have now unfollowed because of them.

I started with this one out of the two because this comment in the end isn't that bad one of the girls running the update accounts explains that everyone on the crew and security at barricade was laughing after Louis' shirt was almost completely ripped out except joni who was giving them a death glare while removing her hands from Louis' shirt. Which is in my opinion completely understandable because to my understanding Joni is Louis' main security guard so I think it makes sense that Joni might be a little pissed if his asset who is already being pushed and pulled around (by his own choice) gets his shirt almost completely ripped off because in your own words your hands had to be ripped off of Louis' shirt. If a bodyguard tells you once to let go YOU LET GO. Now if you are too far into the moment and don't follow the request the first time that's okay but when it gets to the point that a bodyguard has to RIP YOUR HANDS OF THEIR ASSET you've gone too far.

Where do I begin this part. This is the comment that not only made me want to make this long ass post/rant but, it also rubbed me the wrong way. I've followed this account for long enough to know that all the admins of the account would be traveling to all of the Louis shows in the west coast starting in Seattle so they were in fact at the Phoenix show. Obviously since they are an UA they have posted their own photos and videos and of the shows that they have been to they've mostly been on barricade which there is nothing wrong with I'm just trying to put as much of the pieces of the story I have together to correlate that there could be a high probability that the admin who made this comment was the same person who ripped Louis' shirt. So putting everything I know in account and using a little bit of faith that an UA wouldn't lie I'm going off the admins word and if I am doing that then their words are very concerning. They state that the ripping the shirt thing was a "running joke between them", and "consensual". Are you sure about that? Did you have a formal conversation with Louis? Did he invite you backstage after the show in Arizona, did you all sit down and have both a right laugh and serious conversation about ripping his shirt off at a later date and that you had explicit permission to do so? Because I'm sorry but that sounds like someone in a Wattpad y/n book wrote a Wattpad y/n book. A more likely situation is that you think you had an inside joke and you thought you had consent, but the truth is you are a fan who has been on barricade multiple times leading to the likely conclusion that Louis can recognize you and your friends' faces and because of the intimacy and the big brother/friends relationship Louis has created with us it made it seem like both of you were own same page and the same level.

But the truth of the matter is Louis is not your friend anymore than he is mine or any other fans because that's what we are to him fans you were not in on some big long running joke with him because he didn't and doesn't know who you are and, most importantly you didn't have consent because once again you and your friends are fans I just can't see a logical situation in which Louis went "yes at one of the shows you attend you have my permission to grab my shirt so hard that if I didn't have a mic pack it would completely ripped from my body oh and don't mind Joni who will be extremely mad at you because I won't tell him about our inside joke or the fact that I'm giving you consent to do this he will probably grab you and rip your hands off of me" Like in what living breathing Wattpad hell situation would that fucking happen in.

okay I think this post has gone on long enough does it make sense I don't know I hope so but the TLDR is Louis Tomlinson is a multi million dollar celebrity and even though the interaction he has with his fan base makes it seem like he is our friend he is NOT we don't actually know him and he doesn't actually know us meaning you can't have an actual one on one inside joke with him or he can't give you consent to do something in my opinion is inappropriate,and most importantly what I hope to convey through this is don't be stupid on barricade and don't take it too far because I hate to say it but if one day someone takes it too far and Louis ends up hurt then it's all over but the crying.

#sun of my life #louis tomlinson #fitf: Austin TX #long post #rant #opinion #barricade louis

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0613magazine · 2 years

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220801 Vulture

‘I’m Fully Prepared’: Inside j-hope’s Lollapalooza Performance

At around 9:30 on Sunday morning, an old white Pontiac Sunbird, with j-hope song titles scrawled across it in black and blue paint and a human-size stuffed Harlequin clown shoved in the car’s tiny back seat, idled outside the main entrance of Lollapalooza blasting j-hope songs. Presumably, this was intended to inject new anticipatory energy into the crowd lined up against the gate, some of whom had been camped outside for quite literally 12 hours, before Saturday night’s headliner, J. Cole, had even finished his set. (“My muse,” j-hope, dressed head-to-toe in Balenciaga, called the rapper when we spoke.) Or, rather, the old convertible was the chariot ringing in the new day, the one fans of BTS had been anxiously waiting for. Hobipalooza was nigh.

During his Sunday night set, j-hope would become the first Korean artist to headline a major American festival and the first BTS member to perform without the others since the group’s temporary (temporary!) shift to focus on solo projects. When he was added to the festival in June, along with HYBE labelmates Tomorrow X Together, the Lollapalooza tweet announcing Hobi’s performance blew up, and the ARMY members I spoke to swooped up tickets immediately, drawing first-time festivalgoers from all over North America — Los Angeles, Milwaukee, Pittsburgh, Boston, Juárez, Toronto, Vancouver, Boston — and beyond (including South Korea) to Chicago’s sprawling Grant Park. “Never been here before, never coming again,” said one fan, who had been posting up at the Bud Light Seltzer Stage’s barricade all day. “Unless Hobi plays.”

“It’s my first time at a festival,” the 28-year-old rapper and dancer told me on Saturday afternoon through his translator. “It’s a very special experience, also a new history for me.” j-hope had recently released his second solo album, Jack in the Box, which unveiled a darker side of the sunshine boy the ARMY is used to seeing. Later, he hinted at what was to come: “That ‘jack in the box’ concept is rooted in the entire set list,” he said.

j-hope told me he had been practicing constantly for the performance, all too aware of the pressure that comes from stepping out onstage as the sole focal point, without the shield of the other six members to sing, dance, goof around, or cry with. Of course, a festival slot, where you have to power through songs within strict time constraints, is vastly different than a stand-alone BTS show, where they’d be the draw of the night and surrounded by eager fans. “When I chose to perform at Lollapalooza, it was actually a very bold resolution, but I don’t regret making that decision because that ambition, that thirst to perform here, led me to where I am right now,” j-hope said, adding that preparing without the rest of BTS made him realize the effort he would need to put in to go it alone. “During the process of practicing the set list, I realized that I was kind of lacking, but now I’m fully prepared. I just have to put it on.”

So too were the sea of festivalgoers waving lit-up ARMY bombs and screaming and chanting his name a full 40 minutes before the music started — though j-hope said he was envisioning a more mixed crowd of longtime fans and curious newcomers. “I want people who don’t know me to listen to me as well,” he said. “I’m just gonna experience how they’re gonna take my music and just feel the vibe.” At a prompt 8:50 p.m. — an extra ten minutes were gifted ahead of the originally scheduled 9 p.m. start time — the voice-over story of Pandora from Jack in the Box’s “Intro” began, and j-hope sprung out of the platform stage just as he had promised me the day before. (“I’ve prepared popping,” he said at the time, making the requisite sound and gesturing his hand from a fist to a firework.)

Dressed in oversize, all-black Louis Vuitton–embossed denim, holey tee, and workman’s gloves, j-hope swayed, lurched, and jackknifed around the stage during more raucous songs like “More,” “Pandora’s Box,” “Base Line,” “What If,” and “Arson” — which closed out the first half of his set in a spitting blaze. Before “Blue Side (Outro),” his silhouette hung in front of a blue screen like a marionette. “You guys are really fucking crazy,” he said in between “Hangsang” and “P.O.P.,” both off his 2018 mixtape Hope World. This was all by his own “meticulous and thorough” set-list design, he said on Saturday, to highlight the “new j-hope and show my musicality” and the “old j-hope,” where he can finally whip out “my ultimate weapon, which is dancing” — a feature noticeably absent from the Jack in the Box music videos, which instead favored artful stumbling and headbanging.

As paramedics rushed to extricate festivalgoers who had been baking all day under the 85-degree heat, he briefly exited the stage and popped out once more, this time dressed in all-white with blue gloves and transparent neon-green sunglasses, launching into the tropical remix of BTS’s first entirely English song “Dynamite.” The back half of his 18-song set was stuffed with tracks ARMY had been hoping for — j-hope played “Daydream,” “Outro: Ego,” off BTS’s Map of the Soul, and “Hope World,” before pausing to sit down. “What the fuck, I feel like I’m gonna die,” he said, before adding, “Are you okay? I’m fine if you are,” and hopped back up, battery recharged. He then launched into “Trivia: Just Dance” off BTS’s Love Yourself: Answer into “Chicken Noodle Soup,” where collaborator Becky G joined him as a surprise guest. (Fans were also hoping for Jimin, who flew out to watch his bandmate perform, to make an appearance.) As the 10 p.m. curfew drew near, j-hope spoke in Korean for the first time.

“This is a very meaningful moment for me,” he said in his native language. “I’ve grown so much throughout the whole journey with the album, and seeing the audience at Lollapalooza today gave me a firm belief for myself. I am grateful to everyone who came to watch my performance. I’m embarrassed to say this, but I’m also proud of myself for enduring the challenges up until this moment.”

Afterward, he switched back to English to introduce and perform his final song, “Future,” waved to the audience that stretched back to the northern steps of the park, and sank back down into the distorted-checkered box he came from. Later, as the swarm of the crowd spilled back out onto the street, j-hope hopped on V Live (with Jimin) as a newly minted maker of history, giggly from post-performance euphoria and the sweat still caked onto his neck.

Source: Vulture

#2022 #bts #j-hope #vulture

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nordleuchten · 3 years

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La Fayette in Les Misérables

Les Misérables is one of my absolute favourite books. I never get tired of it – funny coincidence, La Fayette is also in there. I have read the book in three different languages now and noticed that the amount of La Fayette varies in the different versions. The French original sets the precedent of course. The English translation (or, as there are of course several different translations, the English translation I read) featured La Fayette ten times (just as often as the French original). My two German translations feature La Fayette less often than the French and my English one. With that being said, I present to you the La Fayette-szenes in Les Misérables (Les Misérables by Victor Hugo, translated by Lee Fahnestock and Norman MacAfee, based on the translation by C. E. Wilbour, published by Signet Classics, 1987)

Courfeyrac had a father whose name was M. de Courfeyrac. One of the false ideas of the Restoration in point of aristocracy and nobility was its faith in the particle. The particle, we know, has no significance. But the bourgeois of the time of La Minerve considered this poor de so highly that men thought themselves obliged to renounce it. M. de Chauvelin became M. Chauvelin,.M. de Caumartin was M. Caumartin, M. de Constant de Rebecque simply Benjamin Constant, M. de Lafayette just M. Lafayette. Courfeyrac did not wish to be backward, and called himself simply Courfeyrac. (Marius, book four, The Friends of the ABC, p. 653)

So the bourgeoisie, as well as the statesmen, felt the need for a man who would say "Halt!" An Although-Because. A composite individuality signifying both revolution and stability; in other words, assuring the present through the evident compatibility of the past with the future. -This man was found ready-made. His name was Louis-Philippe d'Orleans. The 221 made Louis-Philippe king. Lafayette undertook the coronation. He called it "the best of republics." (Saint-Denis, book one, A few Pages of History, p. 829)

I can not give you a direct written example where La Fayette said “the best of republics” but the statement mirrors his early impressions on Louis-Phillipe’s reign perfectly.

These memories associated with a king fired the bourgeoisie's enthusiasm. With his own hands he had demolished the last iron cage of Mont-Saint-Michel, built by Louis XI and used by Louis XV. He was the companion of Dumouriez, he was the friend of Lafayette; he had belonged to the Jacobin Club; Mirabeau had slapped him on the shoulder; Danton had said to him, "Young man!" (Saint-Denis, book one, A few Pages of History, p. 834)

These doctrines, these theories, these resistances, the unforeseen necessity for the statesman to consult with the philosopher, confused evidences half seen, a new politics to create, in accord with the old world, and yet not too discordant with the ideal of the revolution; a state of affairs in which Lafayette had to be used to oppose Polignac, the intuition of progress glimpsed through the riots, the chambers, and the street, rivalries to balance around him, his faith in the Revolution, perhaps some uncertain eventual resignation arising from the vague acceptance of a definitive superior right, his desire to remain in his lineage, his family pride, his sincere respect for the people, his own honesty-all of this preoccupied Louis-Philippe almost painfully, and at times strong and as courageous as he was, overwhelmed him under the difficulties of being king. (Saint-Denis, book one, A few Pages of History, p. 841)

The distress of the people; laborers without bread; the last Prince de Conde lost in the darkness; Brussels driving away the Nassaus as Paris had driven away the Bourbons; Belgium offering herself to a French prince, and given to an English prince; the Russian hatred of Nicholas; at our back two demons of the south, Ferdinand in Spain, Miguel in Portugal; the earth quaking in Italy; Mettemich extending his hand over Bologna; France bluntly opposing Austria at Ancona; in the north some ill-omened sound of a hammer once more nailing Poland into its coffin; throughout Europe angry looks peering at France; England a suspicious ally, ready to push over anyone leaning and throw herself on anyone fallen; the peerage sheltering itself behind Beccaria to deny four heads to the law; the fteur-de-lis erased from the king's carriage; the cross tom down from Notre-Dame; Lafayette weakened; Lafitte ruined; Benjamin Constant dead in poverty; Casimir Perier dead from loss of power; the political disease and the social disease breaking out in the two capitals of the realm, one the city of thought, the other the city of labor; in Paris civil war, in Lyons servile war; in the two cities the same furnace glare; the flush of the crater on the forehead of the people; the South fanaticized, the West uneasy; the Duchesse de Berry in La Vendee; plots, conspiracies, uprising, cholera, added to the · dismal mutter of ideas, the dismal uproar of events. (Saint-Denis, book one, A few Pages of History, p. 843)

In an instant the little fellow was lifted, pushed, dragged, pulled, stuffed, crammed into the hole with no time to realize what was going on. And Gavroche, coming in after him, pushing back the ladder with a kick so it fell onto the grass, began to clap his hands, and cried, "Here we are! Hurrah for General Lafayette! Brats, my home!” Gavroche was in fact home. (Saint-Denis, book six, Little Gavroche, p. 956-957)

Hence, if insurrection in given cases may be, as Lafayette said, the most sacred of duties, émeute may be the most deadly of crimes. (Saint-Denis, book ten, June 5, 1832, p. 1052)

A circle was drawn up around the hearse. The vast assemblage fell silent. Lafayette spoke and bade farewell to Lamarque. It was a touching and noble moment, all heads uncovered, all hearts throbbed. Suddenly a man on horseback, dressed in black, appeared in the midst of the throng with a red flag, others say with a pike surmounted by a red cap. Lafayette looked away. Exelmans left the cortege. This red flag raised a storm and disappeared in it. From the Boulevard Bourdon to the Pont d'Austerlitz a roar like a surging billow stirred the multitude. Two prodigious shouts arose: "Lamarque to the Pantheon! Lafayette to the Hotel de Ville!" Some young men, amid the cheers of the throng, took up the harness and began to pull Lamarque in the hearse over the Pont d'Austerlitz, and Lafayette in a fiacre along the Quai Morland. In the cheering crowd that surrounded Lafayette, a German was noticed and pointed out, named Ludwig Snyder, who later died a centenarian, who had also been in the war of 1776, and who had fought at Trenton under Washington and under Lafayette at Brandywine. Meanwhile, on the left bank, the municipal cavalry was in motion and had just barred the bridge; on the right bank the dragoons left the Celestins and deployed along the Quai Morland. The men who were pulling Lafayette suddenly saw them at the bend of the Quai, and cried, "The dragoons!" The dragoons were advancing at a walk, in silence, their pistols in their holsters, their sabers in their sheaths, their muskets at rest, with an air of gloomy expectation. At two hundred paces from the little bridge, they halted. The fiacre bearing Lafayette made its way up to them, they opened their ranks, let it pass, and closed again behind it. At that moment the dragoons and the multitude came together. The women fled in terror. (Saint-Denis, book ten, June 5, 1832, p. 1059-1060)

Ludwig Snyder was a historical person who indeed existed and not a person that Hugo made up.

Alarming stories went the rounds, ominous rumors were spread. "That they had taken the Bank" ; "that, merely at thencloisters of Saint-Merry, there were six hundred, entrenched and fortified in the church"; "that the line was doubtful"; "that Armand Carrel had been to see Marshal Clausel and that the marshal had said, 'Have one regiment in place first,' " ; "that Lafayette was sick, but that he had said to them, 'I am with you. I will follow you anywhere that there is room for a chair' "; "that it was necessary to keep on their guard; that at night people would pillage the isolated houses in the deserted neighborhoods of Paris (the imagination of the police was recognized here, that Anne Radcliffe element in government)" ; "that a battery had been set up in the Rue Aubry-le-Boucher" ; "that Lobau and Bugeaud were conferring; and that at midnight, or daybreak at the latest, four columns would march at once on the center of the emeute, the first coming from the Bastille, the second from the Porte Saint-Martin, the third from La Greve, the fourth from Les Hailes"; "that perhaps the troops would evacuate Paris and fall back on the Champ de Mars"; "that nobody knew what might happen, but that certainly, this time, it was serious." (Saint-Denis, book ten, June 5, 1832, p. 1067-1068)

I could not find any historical reference about the chair-quote and I am pretty sure that Hugo made that up - however, it sounds very much like something that La Fayette would say - and Hugo and La Fayette probably knew each other, although superficially. Toward the end of La Fayette’s life, when Hugo was still a young men, there were different salons in Paris that both attended and it is quite likely that they both ran into each other during one of these meetings.

At this moment the bantam rooster voice of little Gavroche resounded through the barricade. The child had climbed up on a table to load his musket and was gaily singing the song then so popular:

En voyant Lafayette

Le gendarme repete

Sauvons-nous! Sauvons-nous! Sauvons-nous ! (Saint-Denis, book fourteen, The Grandeur of Despair, p. 1143)

This scene is not featured in my German version. It is mentioned that Gavroche sang a song but the text is not given in that translation.

They take you, they hold on to you, they never let go of you. The truth is, there was never any amour like that child. Now, what do you say of your Lafayette, your Benjamin Constant, and of your Tirecuir de Corcelles, who kill him for me ! It can't go on like this." (Jean Valjean, book three, Mire, but Soul, p. 1317)

La Fayette did not made it into the musical version of Les Misérables (neither in the French Original nor in the more popular English version) although he would have fit perfectly in there. I also have never seen him featured in any of the countless movie or TV adaptations - officially at least. Some adaptations that feature the funeral of General Lamarque have some extras running around that I sometimes turn into La Fayette - that was not the intended casting but it worked out for me nonetheless :-)

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kerwritesthings · 5 years

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27, 54 :)

I wasn’t going to post this today. Last story I posted yesterday I’m still trying to push on since it’s still hanging out there in the wind & wasn’t feeling too motivated after that. But I had a really bad fuck of a moment at the end of the day and then this adorable bean decided to insta story pretty much at the same time. So, et voila we’re going with it.

This took a TURN, dear anon. I know it’s soft & fluffy prompts, and we’ll get to it. There’s a bit up at the front, it’s just a little bit of a journey to get to it at the end. I also didn’t expect this to be almost 2.8k. Ooopsies?

Prompts: “You have me to protect you, always.” AND “I will protect you with my life.”

Being on tour with Shawn is one thing. Being on tour with Shawn overseas though is another. It’s always an experience, but for this run it’s especially more than it’s ever been before. You’ve yet to experience a swing outside Canada, the States and Europe. With the last album already exceeding expectations and touring blowing up across the board, the tour went wider and longer than he’s ever done before. Which means in some cities, it’s multiple dates and even more so, graduating to stadiums.

“Excuse me what?!” you yell, looking at the “tickets” he’s placed in your hand. The sentimental fluff he is, had mockup concert tickets made to give you when he told you about Tokyo.

“Me, you, Japan. Gyoza, ramen, carousel sushi, mochi, bubble tea, and yeah playing what they’re telling me should be a sold-out Tokyo Dome,” he replies with a coy smile.

“Holy shit Shawn,” you exclaim as you tackle hug him. “That’s like what 50,000 plus? Sweetie, that’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.”

It was months away, but you both take to sending each other links to places you’d want to try, or photos of what Tokyo looks like in the spring. You specifically asking for photos of the two of you wandering through the cherry blossoms. You were meeting him there this go. He’s coming into town off the Australia and southeast Asian swing, with Tokyo being the final show to wrap things up before a break. And it wasn’t one show, he sold out two. There was still Latin and South America, but that was after the holidays and nothing to worry about yet.

The energy in the Dome is intense, electric and nothing like you have experienced at any of his shows before. Everything was a glow, every single one of the fans in the seats singing along. You head side stage to where you’ve grown to watching most shows you’re on the road for.

“Something else, eh?” Cez asks loudly to get over the crowd, throwing an arm around your shoulders and drawing you into his side.

You nod, your voice caught in your throat. You’re fighting back being this emotional, but this is unbelievable and that Rockstar up on stage? You get to call him yours.

Cez squeezes you tighter, “I know kiddo, I know. I still get that way even after being with him for this long. Come on, let’s go to the pit for the run.”

You follow, making sure your earplugs are securely in place. The roar is going to be deafening when he hits the straightaway. What you didn’t expect was for him to stop at the end, snag you around the waist, twirl you with a kiss before his usual heading back up for the rest of the finale.

“That’s so going to end up on Tumblr,” you scream at him as he sets you down, and you spy Connor laughing from behind the camera. He caught it all.

“Good, gifs abound showing how much I fucking love you,” he yells back, kissing you one more time before dashing back up to stage.

It takes forever to get through the folks who needed to say hello after the show, you saw him starting to wane after the third massive group that was being ushered into the green room. You caught Cez’s eye, nodding over towards Shawn.

He mouths on it to you and bless him, makes the group filter through quickly. As soon as they’re gone and the door is closing behind them, he collapses on the couch pulling you down next to him, head tipping into your shoulder.

“Hey Rockstar,” you whisper, kissing his temple.

“Mmmm, hi baby. Thank you for being here for here. Means everything,” he sighs, cuddling down into you.

“Always. It’s me and you versus the world, right? Hasn’t changed. Won’t change,” you reply, pressing a longer lingering kiss to his skin. “Go shower. Go change. I’ll even wait in your room for you. Then we’ll head back. Me, you, room service and that pretty piece of silk we found at the night market.”

“Yes please,” he murmurs, kissing you slowly, sweetly like it’s the only thing he wants to do.

“Off with you,” you nudge him up and push him towards the door. His hand reaches for yours immediately, lacing his fingers in tightly with yours.

Finally, when he is done and his team has been told that things have seem to be a bit calmer outside, you start to make your way towards the sprinter van.

“I need you two to hold on to each other, and to me if you can. More importantly to stay close to us,” Jake explains seriously pointing between him and Big Eddie, who was here in Tokyo for the last few days with the team. “We have to do a straight shot to the car. Still too many folks to stop kid, I’m sorry but I can’t risk it. Not with the missus with you.”

You’re not even engaged yet, but since moment one of meeting Jake, he’s taken to calling you the missus. You both nod, Shawn taking a hold of your hand tightly. “I got you,” he whispers.

It’s a crowd like you’ve ever seen post-show before. It’s seas of people on both sides of the barricades. The roar comes once they see him. It’s a swell.

“Fuck, this is not what calm should look like,” Jake mutters. “We’re running. Go go go.”

You tighten your grip on his hand. Jake’s in front, a hold on Shawn, then you with Eddie’s one hand on your shoulder. You somehow hear the metal clatter to the ground and the plastic cracking before you see the people start spilling over and reaching for all of you.

“Shit,” you hear, not sure who it was from, but you’re being pushed forward. The jostling makes you lose your grip on Shawn’s hand first, then the next thing you know people are getting their way in between you and you don’t feel Eddie at your back any longer. You try not to panic, but it’s a sea of complete strangers. You think about calling out for Jake or Eddie. Names that would stand out in the sea of fans’ clamoring. It’s not worth it to even try calling out for Shawn, the crowd is boisterous and already chanting his name. It only takes a few moments before someone realizes who you are. You think about pulling out your phone, but you know it would be a lost cause. You just need to try to keep pushing your way forward. You start to get pulled at, pushed back and forth and it’s hard at this point to not start tearing up. You keep trying to move towards what you think is the direction you were going in in the first place.

At the same time, Shawn is losing his shit inside the van.

“Jake, I don’t fucking care about my own damn safety right now, she’s out there in this shitstorm, and out there in this shitstorm alone,” he yells. “Let me out of here, I need to find her. I told her I had her, Jake. Fuck, I need to get to her.”

“Kid I get it, but you’re not going out there. We’ve got the whole damn team and some of the arena folks weeding through the crowd to get to her,” Jake tries to state calmly. “I can’t let you out there. Hell, I can’t leave you alone in here to go find her myself. You know that’s not safe.”

“Not good enough, if she’s not back in 5, hell in 2. I don’t care Jake; I’ll pop out the damn sunroof if I have to,” he replies, pulling at his hair. “If I promise not to move, stay here, will you go out there? Jake please, I trust you. She trusts you. I just, I can’t just sit here and not do everything I can for her.”

Jake wipes his face with his hand, “You don’t move a muscle you hear me? I’m locking you in the damn car to boot, so no climbing and going through the roof like you threatened.”

“Yes, I promise,” he nods, his eyes still wild from the adrenaline. “Jake, please just find her.”

Jake quickly slides the door open to duck out, locking it behind him.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been, maybe 4 or 5 minutes since Jake left, but it’s feeling like a lifetime. He keeps checking his phone, but he knows there’s no way if you’re lost in this that it’s not worth it to pull out your phone. There are three quick heavy knocks on the van door that has him shifting back against the opposite side. He’s not sure what’s going on. The driver’s side door opens first with the driver shifting into the seat, then Eddie opens the sliding door letting Jake in with you in his arms before slamming it shut behind him.

“Ok time to get gone,” Jake says to the driver as he slides you into Shawn’s hold. “She’s ok, shaken up for sure, rattled and she probably won’t be wearing that shirt again. She said no one went after her, couple folks started tugging a bit harder than normal once they figured out who she was. But nothing bruised, broken or cut from what I can see or what she said. Was a good thing she threw her hair up after the show. I spotted that pineapple bun of hers in the sea of people. Got to her quickly after that.”

“Baby,” he says pulling you into him tightly, burying his face into your hair at first, then your neck. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m here now, I’m right here.”

You’re shaking, cold from the crash of emotions, adrenaline dissipating. You can’t help but start sniffing and holding onto him snugly, wrapping around him like a vine. He was warm and comfort and love, all you really want or need at the moment.

“Call Cez and Andrew, anything that was planned or thought about for the next couple days before we go back to Toronto that has anything to do with work is off the table. That’s not up for debate,” his voice hard. “This also cannot happen again. Ever. That was utter bullshit. They had nothing under control, and that’s a risk I’m not willing to take. This is my family and I’m not having it. I’ll call Louis myself if I have to, this…”

He trails off, the crash starting to hit on his side and the tears start to slowly fall.

“I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you sweetheart, I’m not going to let something like that ever happen again,” he bites out, trying not to cry harder. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry. You’re my everything, you know that yeah? You have me to protect you, always. I will protect you with my life.”

“He tried to fight me to get to you,” Jake chimes in quietly as the van speeds its way back to the hotel. “I just couldn’t let him. But this boy, he was ready to take me if he had to. He’d lay it out and down for you. I’m sorry too, missus. This shouldn’t have been the way this went down. We’ll make sure of it. You’re as much as my responsibility as this kid is, and…”

“’S not your fault,” you croak out, still leaning heavily into Shawn. “Any of you. Crowd control means different things everywhere, especially at a venue that size, and who knew the barricades were going to snap and break. It’s not ok that they basically lied to the team though, that’s what I’m angry about. I’m ok though, shaky and in desperate need of a shower and some sleep, but not broken, not cracked. Maybe just a little worse for wear.”

Shawn wraps you up tighter, “Whatever you need tonight, baby.”

Once you’re back in the hotel, Jake safely deposits the both of you into Shawn’s room. It’s dark and quiet and you just stand in the bedroom holding each other there for a few minutes.

“Shower with me?” you ask, shifting yourself against him tightly again. “Please?”

“Let me call down for some tea first? You go get the water warm,” he whispers against the top of your head.

“Hot chocolate? With Baileys and marshmallows?” you volley back, a half smile trying to creep up your lips.

“Of course, whatever’s gonna make you feel better tonight,” he squeezes you again, before nudging you towards the bathroom. “I’ll let you steal my Leafs shirt too.”

You finally exhale fully once you’re in the bathroom. You didn’t realize you had been holding your breath that long. Or at least that’s what it was feeling like. Setting the shower a little warmer than normal, you quickly strip everything off, tossing it into the corner to deal with later. Stepping under the rainfall showerhead, you start to feel everything just sliding away, tension, the dirt, your fears. Quickly you start to wash off head to toe. You didn’t realize you had started to cry until you heard his feet splash the water against the tile behind you.

“Baby,” he half sighs half cries out, before sliding under the water to press you against him. “Let it go, let it all out. Go head, I’m here. You’re safe, pretty girl. it’s just you and me.”

You feel him start to let his emotions out as well, shaky breaths giving him away. You both stay like that, fusing together until the water starts to cool, but it’s worth it for the feeling a little semblance of getting yourself back together. Both of you.

“Let’s go get into bed with your boozy cocoa yeah?” he asks, lips against your forehead.

As he bundles you up in a towel, you realize for the first time he’s yet to kiss you kiss you since everything. You’re not sure if it’s a conscious decision, part of you thinks it is. You watch him for a moment as he towels off his hair, another balancing precariously low on his hips. He catches you, his lips trying to quirk up into a smile but it’s not quite there. He beckons you closer and you go without question.

He takes a fresh towel to blot at your hair, carefully sopping as much of the moisture away as he could.

“Can I ask you something?” you ask carefully. “You realize you haven’t really kissed me since before we walked out of the venue earlier? Not like you, baby.”

He lays the towel he was using for your hair across your shoulders, flipping the damp tresses out from underneath it. He looks intently at you for a moment before his right palm comes up to cup your cheek, thumb carefully swiping back and forth across your skin. “I couldn’t, I just…” he started before his breath caught for a minute. “I couldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you. It wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you weren’t here with me.”

“Hey, hey, none of that,” you say, pressing a finger across his lips. “Accidents happen. They suck. Yes, and this one, it was scary and all that shit, but it’s done. It’s over. Can you please kiss me now? Please Shawn?”

He kisses the pad of your finger, his other hand coming up to rest against your other cheek. He draws you in closer, tilting his forehead down to rest against yours. He starts slowly, softly. A whisper of a kiss across your lips, almost so light you don’t feel it at first. Then a stronger of a press before pulling away, nuzzling your nose with his. “I love you,” he whispers before letting go and really kissing you. It’s bruising, deep and wet; his tongue relentless. He’s letting everything he’s felt through this all out in this kiss. When he pulls away, you sling your arms around his waist to hold him. You head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat in your ears.

“This wasn’t your fault,” you remind him, pressing your lips against his chest. “Sweetheart, I’m here. I’m ok. We’ll take care of the logistical clusterfuck tomorrow. But for now, what I’d like? Since you said anything I need tonight. I want, I need you to love me Shawn. That’s all I’ll ever want from you, is your love.”

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes story #soft fluffy prompts

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the-walking-memelords · 5 years

Text

A2 - Chapter 4: Lost

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Series is rated M

Word Count: 2531

Clementine used to be glad she wasn't alone anymore.

Now the feeling of not being alone is troublesome.

Read it on Ao3!

Read it on Wattpad!

A/N: This is the chapter that was posted a few days ago, haven't had time to put it here until now.

“All hands on deck!” Layla’s usually cheery tone painted with seriousness boomed down the hollow halls as she pounded on each classroom door, waking all of the occupants.

“There’s half a goddamn herd out there!”

Clementine woke with a start, frantic voices and footsteps echoing through the halls. She joined them, unsheathing her machete, racing out of the rusted double doors with the others right on her heels into the bright morning sun. Their ears were assaulted with the gurgling snarls of easily two dozen of the dead as they threw their bodies against the locked and barricaded chainlink gate. Doc and Connor plunged their thin spears through the fence, dropping walkers one by one, splattering his face and clothes with blood and brain matter. Even sol, every second that passed the metal bent inwards a little more, threatening to spill the deadly creatures inside. More members of the caravan ran to help, pushing heavy objects against the failing metal or stabbing the walkers with spears or thin knives.

This isn’t going to work…

There’s too many.

“They’re too condensed!” Clementine grabbed the sleeve of Layla’s leather jacket.

“We can’t take them all like this before they get through.”

“Open the gate.” Louis proposed, Chairles II swung over his shoulder.

“Spread ‘em out, take ‘em one by one.”

Layla nodded, gripping tight to the pastel indigo ribbon tied around her crowbar.

“Everybody get back!” She ordered, the others following suit immediately.

Within seconds the old gate broke free from its hinges, any attempted barricades pushed aside as the swarm was among them. Layla brought her crowbar high above her head, bring it down hard on the skull of the nearest walker with a sickening crunch.

AJ joined Raha and a few other archers providing cover for the melee fighters, dropping any that tried to overwhelm them. Louis charged ahead, crushing the skull of a walker that nearly got the drop on Eric with his klutzy sword maneuvers.

It wasn’t long before the faded asphalt was stained with the lifelessly red blood of the walkers. One that appeared to once be a woman hobbled towards her with a vengeance in her one remaining eye for Clementine having the audacity to survive while she didn't. With one clean swipe that face was robbed of whatever emotion it could still display as Clementine cleaved her head from her shoulders, the skull cracking open on the ground with a splat.

She stands surrounded by the bodies of the dead, face and clothes speckled with blood as she searches for her next target.

There.

Approaching the archers, a pure white piece of cloth stands out, wrapped around the walker’s upper arm like a bandage. The immaculateness was a stark contrast to the rotted being it was attached to. The only thing that seemed to stain it was its own blood splatter when an arrow pierced its skull.

A snarl in her left ear snapped her back to reality as Clementine reacted just in time to raise her arm to the neck of the walker, its jaws snapping inches from her face. Its rotten hands gripped at her hair and shirt, forcing her to expose her neck as it’s strength began to overcome her.

A pop echoed through the air as Clementine’s face was sprayed with brain matter, the walker slumping against her. She threw it off, wiping her eyes as she looked to her whoever had saved her.

“Didn’t expect a legend like you to get to easily distracted on the battlefield.” The blonde woman said as she holstered her silenced pistol.

“Paige.” Clem said in slight astonishment as she settled from the adrenaline.

“Yep, most of me, anyways.” She said shrugging her shoulders.

Clem’s eyes wandered to the sling over her shoulder, her left arm hanging in it with the red-tinted gauze that covered the stump where her hand used to be peaking out.

“At least I’m not left-handed. I can still fight and that’s what counts.” Paige spoke again before Clem could mutter any kind of condolences.

“Speaking of fighting, you were pretty decent with that machete up until I had to save your ass. Heh, reminds me of someone I met a long time ago.”

“Who?” Clementine asked, checking the small chips in the edge of her blade before sheathing it.

“Michonne.”

“Clementine!” Louis called with a worried voice as he ran over, out of breath from the fight.

“Are you alright?”

Blood spatter joined his freckles as it had spotted over his face, a light scratch below his right eye where he seemed to have also had a close call.

“I’m okay.” She reassured him with a smile, brushing away his dreads to get a better look at that mark.

“Clem!” AJ grabbed her arm and quickly pulled her along, a tinge of fear in his expression.

“Layla found something in the herd.”

---

They found the raven-haired woman staring down at the walker at her feet, tapping her crowbar against her leg as she held it loosely at her side.

“I should’ve known this would happen eventually.” Layla said, knowing the others were feet behind her.

“This one’s a fucking warrior.”

She stomped on the arm of the bandaged walker Clem had seen earlier, the bone cracking under her boot. Black paint smeared the front of the cloth, marking at as indeed a member of The Pack.

“I didn’t want to believe you, Clem.” Layla said in a flat tone.

“But this isn’t an accident. Wolfgang did this. And if he’s back, no one is safe.”

Clementine’s blood ran cold, stepping to the side to keep her balance and bumping into Louis. She bit her lip hard to retain her composure as the reality sank in like a knife in her chest.

The war never ended.

It’s only just beginning.

“Hey.” Louis said softly as he put his arm around his girlfriend.

“So if Wolfgang is the guy in charge, how do we get him to fuck off?”

“We don’t. We can’t. Not like this.” Layla scrunched her nose as if holding back tears.

“When my patrol came back, they came back alongside these guys. Some of the best fighters I ever knew are dead. All cut to shit. Na-fa mordeh didn’t do that.”

They were ambushed.

“So what can we do?” Clementine looked into her eyes and saw the reflection of fear of someone who knew exactly what they were up against, but no idea how to proceed.

“His Gravediggers will be here to get the bodies soon so we all need to get out of here. Take the long way around. Don’t stop for anything and make sure you aren’t followed.” Layla pulled a radio, flipping through channels before bringing it to her mouth.

“Listen up, pack what you can and be ready to leave in half an hour. Leave behind what you have to. This is an evacuation.”

“Do you think the others made it back okay?” AJ grabbed Clem’s wrist with urgency.

Oh fuck.

“You’re friends weren’t with these guys, at least. But you better go home and make sure everyone is safe and sound.” Layla gripped her crowbar tighter, looking at it with her brows knitted.

“You might wanna reinstate your ‘Safe Zone’. Put the school on lockdown for the next few months while I try to figure this out with the Alliance. Don’t worry, they won’t ignore this.”

“So we just go home and hide?” Louis questioned with astonishment.

“Yes.” She asserted.

“You’ve got too much to lose to act any other way.”

“She’s right.” Clementine cut Louis off before he could debate the caravan leader.

“We can’t afford to fuck with them if we don’t have to. If we lay low and let the Alliance deal with this, we won’t die, and it won’t be the Delta all over again.”

I can’t go back to that life.

I won’t.

I’d rather die.

“Can we survive the winter like that?”

“We don’t have a choice.”

Clementine’s eyes pleaded with Louis and he quickly conceded. The three of them went to Connor, who held up his end up the deal with a brand new leg for Clementine. Within ten minutes of talking to Layla, they were back on the road.

---

The three of them moved silently with weapons drawn as they took a route that would add a few extra hours to their trip, but would hopefully allow them to get home unfollowed.

Hopefully, the others had the same luck.

“I’m sorry…” Louis breathed out as he brushed his hand against Clementine’s with his eyes still on the path ahead.

“I know this is horrible for you, and I didn’t mean to sound like hiding was a stupid idea, It’s just…”

His voice trailed off, lip pinched under his teeth. He finally turned to look at her.

“The second we started talking about bringing back the safe zone, my mind jumped to how it was when... Marlon was running things.” It was obvious in his eyes that speaking the name of his former best friend opened the wounds in his heart anew.

“It just… feels like history is repeating itself. I thought all that shit was finally over, and now it’s like we’re right back where we started. Fighting and waiting to see who dies next.”

Isn’t that how things have always been?

“It’s all I’ve ever known, even before the Delta.” She learned early on to fear the living much more than the dead.

“Crawford. Howe’s. The original New Frontier. The Delta. There’s always a ‘community’ out there that uses their power to get themselves to the top, no matter how many bodies they have to pile under them to get there.

And they all have one thing in common.

“They all lost.” She pointed out.

“They lost because stepping on people doesn’t work forever. When you run out of people to step on or find someone you can’t step on, that’s when it all starts to crumble.”

The sun abandoned them just as they reached the rusted gates. The school was as dark as the deep woods. Only the faintest whiff of smoke hung in the crisp night air.

“Hey!” Louis called up to the watchtower, seemingly empty with no one to greet them.

“We’re back, get down here and let us in.”

Clementine wrapped her hand around the bars of the gate, the metal already freezing against her skin. The inside of the courtyard seemed barren of all life. A few cracked bowls littered the picnic tables. The vibrant yellow shards of a broken bowl lay in a mess of spoiled stew coating the rocks below one table.

Where the hell is everyone?

“We’re really late.” AJ pointed out.

“Maybe they went looking for us?”

“With no one behind guarding the school? They better not have.” Louis knocked Chairles II against the brick in case Mitch had fallen asleep on watch again.

“Got your key?”

Fuck.

“I gave it to Aasim before they left.” Clementine sighed.

“Maybe I can pick- Wait.”

She reached her hand through and started fumbling for the padlock, only to be met with the empty latch. A simple flick and the gate swung open, screeching on its hinges.

“They’re fucking with us.” Louis stated flatly.

“Guard saw us coming so they unlocked the gate and hid.”

“Well, I’m not in the mood for games.” Clementine growled as she unsheathed her machete. It took her a second to steady her grip. Clem had a feeling she was going to be paranoid for a long time.

They fanned out to search the yard. The school just seemed… empty. In appearance and in energy. Abandoned. Like everywhere else.

Where is everybody?

“Clem!” AJ called, an arrow nocked in his bow as he faced the dormitory building. The door hung slightly ajar, somewhat swaying in the breeze.

“I heard something.”

“This isn’t funny.” Clementine heard her voice echo through the hall.

“Shits going down out there I’m calling a meeting.”

Unsatisfied with the response -or lack thereof- Clementine began to enter the building when her boys appeared at her side.

“Rule number one.” AJ whispered.

“Never go alone.” Louis responded, face serious as the doubt of this being a prank let in all of them.

The air was ice-cold, a chill rolling over Clementine’s skin like a frost. An overwhelming sense of dread leaving her nearly immobile. Her knuckles were white around the worn handle of her machete as she forced each step until she rounded the corner to an unrecognizable hallway.

Metal bars crossed each door frame to frame, screwed deep into the cracked walls, sealing whatever -or whoever- inside without hope of busting through. Black spraypaint tainted each light-coloured door.

Fangs.

Fangs bearing down on each room and the peace of those who inhabited the school.

“What the fuck is going on here…” Louis whispered urgently but Clementine couldn’t find the words to respond, frost turning to sheets of ice as she lost the ability to move her limbs, the only motion coming from her being the movement of her eyes darting from door to door and the ever-rapid beating of her heart as it thumped loudly in her ears.

Not here…

There’s no way… not here…

Clementine’s vision blurred as her head turned to fog. She didn’t feel the blade slip from her grip, but the loud clatter on the floorboards at her feet nearly made her jump out of her skin.

If he found us…

Found them.

“Clem!” AJ yelled as the woman stumbled around to face them through her hazy vision, skin pale as death.

She took a wheezed breath, shaking like they hadn’t seen in a long time. Her voice was small and quiet, but her simple words imbedded a fear in them that could only be a fraction of that she currently felt.

“The wolves were here.”

A single thump came from the door directly to her right.

Violet’s room.

AJ drew his gun at the unmoving door as they all waited with bated breath. Clementine’s eyes locked on the door handle for any twitch of movement but none came. Honestly, if AJ and Louis hadn’t reacted to it as well she might not have believed it was real. It didn't seem real. None of this did.

“Who’s in there?” AJ asked whoever was on the other side, looking between the door and Clementine.

The only response they received was another heavy thump, the door shaking under the impact. Whatever was behind those bars didn’t leave them to the silence. A gurgling snarl came from behind as something threw its body against the door, the hinges barely hanging on but the bars unflinching.

As if some kind of sickening domino effect each door along the hall responded with the same chorus of groans and knocking until every door shook in its weak wooden frame held back only by the foreign reinforcements.

Walkers. A lot of them. There had to be at least ten in each of the rooms.

But where is everyone else?

“Are… Are they in there?” AJ asked as the panic began to show in his voice.

“Is everyone dead?”

No…

Not again…

Not again...

--- A/N: "Na-fa mordeh" is the Farsi word for "Dead One" obviously that's not how it's spelled bc Farsi uses a different alphabet, but that's how it's pronounced. (My beta reader knows Farsi)

#my writing #the walking dead game #the final season #clouis #twdg clementine #twdg louis #twdg aj #a2

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maybemitch · 5 years

Text

ARE YOU WITH ME (MITSIM)

DESCRIPTION: Mitch is injuried and taken to Delta. Aasim has to attend to his wounds.

WARNING: AU, Mitch lives. Blood. Swearing.

WORD COUNT: 4290

━━━⋆☆⋆━━━

The courtyard was a small war zone, the picnic tables were turned, creating a small walkway on the crack cobblestone road, where the raiders stood. The gate was busted, the barricade which was pushed against it now tossed to the sides. On the patch of grass the flagpole was located at, three makeshift scarecrows sat stabbed into the ground, the decaying walker head had bluebottle flies hovering above them, intrigued with the smell

Clementine was keeping the raiders preoccupied, holding them at arrow point whilst Willy and Mitch snuck behind the cart, placing the bomb down.

Aasim wasn’t keen on the idea, he didn’t like that Mitch and Willy were risking their lives to cause a distraction. He didn’t like the potential risk of losing them both, especially when the raiders had weapons. Aasim peered slightly over the wall, automatically ducking his head when a raider turned towards him, his heart erratic in his chest.

Aasim clenched his eyes shut, the sound of footsteps hammering down on the floor made him panic internally, however his nerves were soothed when he saw the shaggy hair of Willy and the brunette fringed hair of Mitch appeared next to him.

Mitch found himself sitting besides Aasim, his back also pressed against the half brick wall. He turned to face Aasim, a small smile on his lips. Mitch moved over, pressing his lips to Aasim’s cheek.

“Told you I’ll make it back in one piece,” Mitch spoke in a hushed whisper, “You should’ve trusted me.”

Aasim smiled at Mitch, “I did trust you. I didn’t trust the raiders.”

Mitch gave another smile as he slightly flinched when the explosion went off. Mitch could smell the smoke in the air as he moved from where he was sitting out into the open, wanting to inspect the area in more detail.

Orange embers danced in the sky, from where the explosion went off. Smoke went high into the sky, as if it was sending a signal to someone.

“Whatever you’re thinking about,” Aasim whispered over to his boyfriend. His words were soft and welcoming, a tone Aasim always used when speaking to Mitch. Aasim still had his back pressed against the crumbling half-brick wall, his head turned ever so slightly, yet his eyes were sharp as they lingered on the bomb loving boy, “Don’t you dare do it.”

Mitch was crouched in the opening, close to the support beam on the shelter they were fighting from, his hands were on the floor, giving him more stability. His gaze fluttered to Aasim, the look of distress was plastered all over his boyfriend’s face, his heart twinged in a slight pain, he had always hated that look from Aasim.

Mitch turned his gaze to Tennessee for a brief moment, the woman behind the boy began to get to a stand. One fist balled as he shook his head, he opened his mouth.

“Cover me,” Mitch ordered the people behind cover, most of the other teens nodded their heads and ready themselves for whatever was about to happen. Aasim bit down on his lip, a hand extending trying to grab ahold of Mitch before he did anything reckless and dangerous. Mitch looked to Aasim and the boys open hand and gave a small smile, “I’ll be safe, just have my back.”

Aasim let out a shaky breath, before nodding his head ever so slightly. It was a small movement, something everyone could have missed if they weren’t paying attention. Luckily, Mitch was.

Mitch gave him a small reassuring smile, “Trust me, Aasim. I’ll make it back in one piece.”

Mitch pulled himself up into a stand, Aasim snatched up his bow which was resting on the floor and loaded the weapon with an arrow. Aasim peered over the wall, watching intently as he got his arrow trained on Mitch. He had his back, now matter what.

Mitch ran at a small jog to begin with, his hands free off weapons. After a few small steps in the jog, he broke out into a sprint. Mitch let out a small shout as he got closer to Lilly.

Mitch could see the knife in Lilly’s belt, that what he needed. He paced quicker, Lilly got up into a stand her hand being to wrap around her blade.

Shit. Mitch thought as he began to run faster.

Lilly turned to face the boy, bringing the knife out in self defence, jerking it in Mitch’s direction, mainly towards his neck.

Mitch’s hand went up, grabbing ahold of Lilly’s wrists, his grip was strong as he tried to overpower the women. Lilly kept trying to push the blade closer to Mitch’s neck, however, Mitch pulled the knife away from his neck, leaving it above his shoulder, his grip loosening.

Lilly took that as an opening, lunging the knife forwards into Mitch’s shoulder, a small splatter of blood coated her face. Mitch staggered back, his shoulder throbbing. Mitch knew Aasim was probably scared right now.

Mitch groaned as he grabbed the knives handle and pulled it out. Lilly took a step back as Mitch took a step forwards. The woman was defenseless right now and even if Lilly didn’t want to admit it, she was quite scared right now.

Mitch took another step towards the women, but was interrupted by a loud bang. A shoot pain went through his abdominal and a wet substance started to coat his T-shirt.

“Mitch!” Aasim gasped, when Mitch fell to the floor, holding his abdominal. Aasim went to run over to his boyfriend, wanting to hold him in his pain, but an arm tugged at him, keeping his at bay.

“You’ve got to stick to the plan,” Louis whispered to Aasim. Louis knew Aasim was in a panicked state, Louis would try and calm him down, but Louis knew it would be difficult considering the circumstances.

Aasim gulped and shook his head no, “I… I can’t. M-Mitch. I need to go help him,” Aasim tried to pull his arm out from Louis’ grip, Aasim kept shaking his head, “Please Lou. I need to go to him. Please let me go to him.”

Louis slowly released his grip from Aasim, “O-okay. I’ll make sure no raiders get to you. Promise.”

Aasim turned to smile at Louis, “Thank you.” Aasim looked at Louis for a moment, before turning away, making his way slowly out to a bleeding out Mitch.

/———\

Aasim awoke when painful hand gripped tightly at his shoulders, yanking him to his feet. His head was thumping, whilst a trail of warm oozing blood trickled down the left side of his face. A muzzle of a shotgun was pressed to Aasim’s lower back, sending him rigid. His breath caught in his throat, the undeniable fear running through his veins. They’re going to shoot him.

“Move,” a guard sneered from behind him, the sound of the safety being clicked off sent shivers down Aasim’s spine. The guard pressed the muzzle harder into Aasim’s spine, their finger resting lightly on the trigger, “Or else.”

Aasim released a shaky breath and gave a brief nod, before walking inside of the boat. The shotgun was making his nervous, yet, he had to do as he’s told unless. Underneath the feet of Aasim and the guard, the floorboards creaked, a sign that the wood was beginning to rot from old age and constant water exposure.

Aasim’s brown eyes analysed the area, a small rounded silver table was situated to the right of the banister, a pile of poker chips in the middle and playing cards lay down with the numbers facing the table; whoever was playing must have left the game in a hurry. There were boxes piled against the wall, a few gas powered lamps resting on top, sending the room an awful yellow tinge. There were also several brown empty beer bottles on the floor, most of them rolling around whenever a wave hit the boat which was docked at the pier.

Aasim stumbled over a nail which stuck out on deck. His arms jerking out before him, ready to prevent himself from colliding with the floor, yet he never fell. The guard behind him rolled his eyes and snatched the jacket which belong to Aasim’s tightly, yanking him back up. The guard moved his hand to Aasim’s upper arm, holding him tightly. Aasim winced at the hand, before snatching his arm out of the vice grasp.

“Stop.” The guard ordered, as they turned to face the first cell door on the left. Their hands wrapped around the lock, snatching the door open. Their hands grabbed Aasim’s jacket, pulling him backwards so he was aligned with the door and pushed him in. “Sit there,” the guard snapped, slamming the door shut, locking it back up, their eyes staring Aasim down, “And shut up. That’s if you know what’s best for you.”

Aasim groaned from the impact of hitting the floor, a small splatter of blood stained the wood from where his head hit the floor. Aasim began pushing himself up, turning his head sending a bitter glare towards the guard which stood with a smirk behind the locked door. The guard locked eyes with the boy momentarily, then turned on his heels, going to collect the next teen.

Aasim sobbed silently as he began to crawl slowly to one of the corners, his heads sore, a minor graze on his palms. Once in the corner, Aasim turned around, pressing his back to the wall, the wallpaper being to curl from the bottom. He leaned his head back upwards towards the ceiling, his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip in fear and frustration.

Aasim couldn’t believe it. Delta had basically won. For now at least.

He brought his knees to his chest, then lowered his head to them, resting it on them. His hands wrapped around the back of his neck, leaving them there as he began tugging a few strands of hair.

Mitch. He though. Oh, God. Mitch. He was stabbed and shot. Aasim couldn’t help but worry over his boyfriend, he always worried over him. Even when Mitch went hunting or when he played with his carving knife, Aasim always worried over Mitch. He was just thankful he wasn’t dead, he wouldn’t know what to do if Mitch was gone, he probably wouldn’t be able to function correctly without him, Mitch was his rock most of the time.

Aasim stuffed when he heard footsteps and groans from outside the cell… footsteps… plural. It sounded like their was only two guards this time round, which was unusual considering Aasim, Violet and Omar only had one guard with them. Therefore, curiosity spiked a little in Aasim, causing him to sit still and listen, too scared to move.

Outside, the two guards walked down towards the cells, holding an unconscious male in their arms. Their eyes were coated with disapproval as a sticky crimson substance laced with uniform.

One of the guards huffed as they pulled at the unconscious male, “He’s too heavy. Why did the sniper get his abdominal? They should’ve just went for the head.”

The other guard scoffed and replied harshly, “Lilly didn’t want to kill the kids. We need recruits, not body bags.”

“So why did we bring him? He's of no use to us if he’s injured.” The first guard admitted, beginning to open the door to Aasim’s cell, “He’s going to die of blood loss and we aren’t wasting supplies on him.”

“He tried to kill Lilly,” the second guard told, they witnessed everything back at the school, “He has the potential to be a soldier. That’s why he’s with us. He heals on his own, we train him. We send him to war. It doesn’t matter if he dies out there. It’s better him than us.”

The first guard let out a chuckle as their face broke out into a grin, they placed their hand on the wound on the boy’s shoulder and shoved them into Aasim’s cell.

Their body crashed to the floor, an excruciating sob fell from their lips at the impact. Both guards let out a sadistic chuckle at the boy in cowering in pain. Aasim scowled at the people; they couldn’t see him luckily. The sound of footsteps pounding down the deck caused Aasim to crawl over to the body tossed into his cell.

His heart split into two as he blinked, taking in Mitch who was sickeningly pale. His lips wobbled, as he hesitantly moved his right hand. His right thumb brushed against Mitch’s cheek gently. Mitch groaned at the touch, and began to lean away in his unconscious state, before a small whimper left his lips as too much pressure was applied to his abdomen.

“What did they do to you?” Aasim whispered, his hands moving to cup Mitch’s face, despite his boyfriend moving away from the contact moments ago. Aasim’s hands shook as he slid them down Mitch’s face and down to the stab wound on his left shoulder; it wasn’t too deep, but still could end up getting infected if not looked after.

His hands slowly lowered down Mitch’s body, down to the relatively large blood pool on the right side of the abdomen, caused by a sniper bullet. Aasim’s hands were wet with blood as he clenched at Mitch gunshot wound, Aasim knew there was an exit hole, mainly because the small pool of blood beneath Mitch. That’s a good sign at least.

“Mitch…” Aasim mumbled, his hand applying pressure to the gunshot wound, trying to restrict the blood flow, “Don’t die on me…” his voice cracked, words weak, water brimming in his eyes, threatening to send salty tears down his face, “Please… Please don’t die on me. W-wake up…”

Mitch mumbled something in his unconsciousness, then released a small hiss of pain, which caused Aasim to frown, “Mitch… Stay with me okay. Please. Just stay with me…”

Aasim leaned back on his feet, his hands still resting on Mitch’s wound. He looked around the room, the scruffy bedsheet on the camp bed caught his eyes; it could be used for bandages. The bedsheet wasn’t exactly clean, yet they would be able to soak up the blood until they get home to Ericson, if they get home to Ericson.

He sighed, “I just need to find something to clean the wounds,” he mumbled as he pressed harder onto Mitch. Aasim knew he wouldn’t find disinfectant in the cell, Delta wouldn’t allow it. Delta wouldn’t allow if Aasim asked for it, they even said so when they were bringing Mitch down. “Water would work,” Aasim whispered, his eyes shifting to the door, “But I’ve got to ask… shit.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, removing his hands from Mitch and pushed him to his feet. He took a deep breath and walked over to the door, his blood red hands wrapped around the bars, giving them a shake, causing the sound of metal hitting metal to bounce around the room.

A guard groaned from outside and marched to the door, their shotgun held high as they aimed it at Aasim through the metal bars, “What?” They spat, “I told you to shut up if you knew what was best for you. Or do you need to be taught a lesson?”

“I… I need water,” Aasim whispered, his eyes looking at the guard, “I just need water.”

“Water?” They asked, taking a step back to look down the hall, as if they were looking, “Why do you need water?”

“I’m parched.” Aasim bluntly said, “That's why I need water.”

“Someone get Lilly,” the guard ordered to someone down the hall, before turning their attention to the male, “You’ll speak to the boss. She’ll be the one which determines if you get your drink or not.”

Shit. Aasim thought. He wasn’t expecting the guards to get Lilly involved, he didn’t want that. Especially considering Lilly was one of the people which harmed Mitch. Aasim didn’t want Lilly anywhere near his boyfriend.

The sound of walking boots clicked down the hall, Aasim’s heart began to race in his chest and his ears began to ring. Aasim took a deep inhale when Lilly appeared at the door, a scowl on her lips. She wasn’t impressed with Aasim at all.

“What is it?” Lilly asked, her arms crossed over her chest. Aasim’s eyes were trained onto the guard standing behind the woman, who still held the gun up high. Lilly followed his gaze, tutting when she looked at one of her soldiers, “I can handle him, stand to the side.”

“As I said to the guard,” Aasim began, looking Lilly in the eyes, “I’m parched. So can I please have some water.”

Lilly bent down, unlocking the door. Aasim took a step back, standing protectively besides Mitch’s unconscious body. Lilly entered the small cell, crossing her arms over her chest, her lips twisting into a sadistic smirk, “You’re not thirsty, you want to save your boy toy.”

Aasim mimicked Lilly, his arms over his chest, “He’s not my boy toy,” his words were harsh, as he slightly rolled his eyes, “And it's not for him. I’m parched.”

Lilly took a step forwards, “Are you sure?” She questioned quietly, cocking her head to the side slightly, “You don’t want to clean his wounds? You don’t want to treat his fever? You don’t want to make sure he lives?”

Aasim bit down on his lip, looking at the woman before him. Lilly chuckled, taking a step forward again, beginning to close the gap between her and the teen, “If he’s,” her eyes linger down to Mitch, who’s forehead was beginning to be matted with sweat, “Not attended to in the next twenty minutes or so, an infection will set in, his body will fight it but he will be too weak. And do you know what that means?”

Aasim gulped, “W-what does it mean?”

Lilly sighed, “It means his body will stop fighting it, allowing the infection to overtake. Eventually turning into a walker. And you’ll have to be the one which will have to bash his brains in as you’ll be locked in this room alone with him.”

“H-he’s not going to die.” Aasim stumbled over his words, uncrossing his arms, fist balling. Aasim was letting anger overtake him, “I-I won’t let him.”

“You’re not going to let him die?” Lilly asked, eyebrow arching, “How are you going to save him?”

Aasim sighed, his eyes clenched shut before a soft plea passed through his tight lips, “Please. Please can I have some water.”

Lilly smiled, she had finally gotten what she wanted to hear, “Why?”

“So… so I can clean his wounds,” Aasim reopened his eyes looking up to Lilly, “So I can make sure he lives,” a tear slowly rolled down his cheek, Lilly chuckled softly at the sight of it, “Please, let me have some water. I… I can’t lose him.

Lilly looked down the male on the floor and shook her head, “What’s in it for me?”

“What?” Aasim asked confused, recrossing his arms.

“It’s a simple… deal. I give you something, you’ve got to give me something in return,” Lilly explained, beginning to lean up the wall, “So, what’s in it for me?”

Aasim turned slightly, looking down at Mitch then back to Lilly, “What do you want?”

“I want your word,” Lilly said, “I want your word that you’ll fight the war. That you won’t let your relationship get in the way. That if you lose him, you’ll cut your losses and be a soldier.”

Aasim scoffed, “So what you’re trying to say is that you want me to be an emotionless asshole like you?” His words were harsh, the end of the sentence was spat out, “What you want is me to forget my boyfriend of two years, if he dies fighting your war?”

Lilly tutted, “That's no way to speak to your new leader. But yes, that’s exactly what I want you to do. You want the water, you’ll give me your word.”

“Fuck you,” Aasim spat, shaking his head, “No. I’m not giving you my word.”

Lilly frowned, pushing herself off the wall and opening the door to leave, “Well, I guess you’ll have to say your goodbyes now then. He’s not going to make it.”

Aasim watched as the door shut behind Lilly. Aasim’s knees buckled as he dropped down to the floor, a small cry leaving his lips. He slipped his hand into Mitch’s giving it a small squeeze. Aasim couldn’t. He couldn’t give his word to Lilly. Aasim didn’t want to cut his losses if he lost Mitch in the war. Aasim didn’t even know if they’d make it to the war, Clementine could be coming to get them.

Aasim moves from his knees and sat down on the floor, he slowly pulled Mitch up, resting his boyfriend’s head on his lap. He laced his fingers through Mitch’s hair, soft assuring words fell from his lips as tears kept brimming in his eyes.

Mitch mumbled something in his unconscious state which made a sad chuckle pass through Aasim’s lips as a tear fell, landing on Mitch’s face. Aasim was quick to wipe it away.

“You’re going to be okay,” Aasim whispered, his hands moving to cradle Mitch’s face. His heart was still aching at the sight, “You hear me, you’re going to be okay.”

Mitch mumbled something softly again, Aasim arched an eyebrow at him as he sniffed, “What are you talking about, Mitch.”

“I love him,” Mitch mumbled in his unconscious state, now his words were more clearer, it gave Aasim hope he was coming round. Mitch’s head tilting into Aasim’s hands, his lips pressing against them, “Huh?”

Aasim looked down to Mitch, curiosity filled his eyes and his heart began racing in his chest. He preferred his heart racing then aching.

“What do you mean who?” Mitch mumbled, a small hiss of pain left his lips. “M-my boyfriend. A-Aasim. I love Aasim.”

Aasim’s heart leaped in his chest. Mitch loved him. It was the first time Mitch had ever said it, the first time either of them have said it. Neither of the boys wanted to rush their relationship, they wanted to take their time, they wanted to ensure they didn’t mess up.

Aasim released a shaky breath, his fingers tugging at Mitch’s hair before removing his boyfriends head from his lap and standing back up, moving over to the door. He stuck his hand out giving it a small wave, Lilly walked back down.

“Still thirsty?” Lilly cackles, crossing her arms when Aasim pulled his arms back into the cell, “Or are you asking for something to bash his brains in.”

“No.” Aasim gulped, “I’m… I’m giving you my word.”

“What changed your mind?” Lilly asked as she waved her hand down the hall, signalling someone to get her a bottle of water.

Aasim sighed, “It’s none of your business.”

Lilly huffed, her hand holding tightly on a bottle which was handed to her. She raised an eyebrow at Aasim, waving the bottle in front of his face, mockingly, “Tell me what changed your mind, soldier.”

Aasim looked up to Lilly and gave a deep sigh, “I… I love him and… and he mumbled that he loves me too.”

Lilly handed the bottle to him, a smirk on her lips, “Young love. Just remember, you gave me your word. He dies, you move on.”

Aasim nodded and turned around quickly. He snatched the scruffy bed sheets off the camp bed and dropped down to besides Mitch. He looked over his boyfriend, biting down on his lip. How was he going to do this?

“Mitch,” Aasim whispered, as he grabbed his boyfriend from underneath his arms, pulling him up with all his strength so he was sitting up the wall. “I’m sorry if this hurts.”

Aasim pulled Mitch’s jacket off his body, throwing it to the side before giving a sigh when he saw Mitch’s shirt sticking to his wounds. Aasim licked over his dry lips, then began removing Mitch’s shirt.

Mitch groaned when the shirt was removed.

“It’s okay,” Aasim hushed as he tore apart of the bed sheets, beginning to use it as a wipe. He poured a small drop of water on the fabric and then began to dap at the wound on Mitch’s shoulder.

Aasim concentrated on cleaning the wound, he wasn’t a nurse, he didn’t know how to do this like Ruby, but he had seen her clean other kids wounds, so he had something idea on it. Aasim bit down on his lip as dropped the blooded rag, he snatched up the other part of the bed sheet and wrapped it around a Mitch’s shoulder, creating a bandage.

Mitch groaned when Aasim pushed down on the wound. A tear in the corner of his eye.

Aasim frowned, “Just one more,” he reassured as he began repeating the actions from before. He poured the water, dapped the wound and held it there for a moment.

Aasim removed the rag, beginning to wrap the bed sheet around Mitch’s waist tightly, covering the wound securely. The bullet wound was much more worse than the stab wound.

“You’ll be okay,” Aasim whispered when he was finished patching Mitch up. Aasim moved to besides him, pressing his back to the wall. Aasim slipped his hand into Mitch’s as he then rested his head on his uninjured shoulder.

“And for the record, I know you can’t hear me,” Aasim whispered, licking his lips over in nerves, mainly incase Mitch hears him, “But I love you too,” Aasim squeezed Mitch’s hand tightly, “So much. So please… wake up and stay with me.”

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chickennoodlesoupfortae · 5 years

Text

Tell them

Hoseok x reader

Summary- You get tickets to a BTS concert from a work giveaway. You choose to take your friends and your current boyfriend. Your boyfriend starts to get annoyed and then fights you.

Word count- 1.9 k

Warnings- fighting, assault, and cursing

A/N- it’s a new series! The tiniest mariachi band is playing the happiest song for me. Backstage love part 3 will be out on Wednesday or Friday. Enjoy! (update the way I screamed editing this to make it better)

The concert began you looked over at your boyfriend as the music began blaring through the stadium. He was laughing with your friends well you guess they were more his friends now. You never really knew why you started dating him. He was loud and obnoxious and honestly, he made your head hurt more than he made you happy. When you asked your friends if they wanted to come to the BTS concert you had gotten free GA tickets for they agreed and you had to bring him. So there you were at the beginning of the concert the one you barely got into with the boyfriend you didn’t love anymore.

“It's starting come on.” you heard one of your friends say. They all moved you along and closer to the stage. It was a huge venue there were people at all levels. You were sure they must have paid hundreds if not thousands to see this show and you had just won the tickets at your jobs annual raffle. All the songs start going through some you know line for line others you were hearing for the first time. There was something about Louis (your boyfriend) when he got drunk, he became more aggravating and rude then he normally is. He started grabbing you and pulling you closer, you were not in the mood.

“Come on let us just see the show.” you pulled away and swayed to the music.

“Your such a tease.” he snarked and your, no his friends laughed you rolled your eyes. You looked back on stage. It was the part of the show were the singers were already sweating and tired from singing. It was coming to an end. You let yourself become absorbed in the music. Your eye caught one of the singers as he sang his heart out, hair falling as he moved his head up and down instructing the crowd. He was handsome, not the type of handsome that you see on the street. Not even the type at your high school that makes all the girls drop on their knees. He was the celebrity type and you were right he was an international star and his looks didn’t serve his talent. His voice was incredible and the songs spoke to you. You were now engrossed in the music watching as he went from side to side of the stage. How could one man be so gorgeous it made your eyes hurt for a second you forgot your shitty boyfriend. That was short-lived. He came stumbling towards you.

“What the fuck Louis. This is a concert why are you so smashed. Aren’t those beers like a hundred dollars,” you were livid it was your money he was spending “why are you such a dumbass.” You were shaking your head.

“You're a bitch you know that?” he slurred.

“Go away let me in joy the concert.” the clapping after the last song grew quite as the next began. The chords to ‘Tear’ began. You loved this song and were ready to listen to it. Everyone was quiet as they waited for the lyrics to begin.

“This is the song you like slut” Louis screamed and you were sure everyone heard.

You felt your blood run cold everyone in the space was looking at you. You even felt as though everyone looked around at where the sound came from you looked down quickly.

“Fuck,” you mumbled to yourself. You looked up as the song started.

“You’re my tear...” you heard everyone sing along. You hoped the guy wouldn’t find who screamed that because that would be more embarrassing than it already was. You saw him approaching your side of the stage and saw the immediate excitement grow in the crowd as all the thirteen to twenty-year-old girls rushed to the barricades. You laughed at how intensely invested these people were but understood the need to escape. You weren't one for pop music to uppity and rock was too loud you preferred indie pop. Yet here you were at a concert which music was a combo of both. You looked up at the stage again feeling as though the shame had passed. The first thing you saw when you looked up was the guy looking down into the crowd leaning as he rapped. You were sure the girl he was looking at was having a heart attack if not fainted. You watched mouthing the words of the chorus.

“Babe-Babe” you heard your boyfriend stumble out. “I’m-i-i so sorry I didn’t mean it.” he pulled you into his arms you were in an empty bubble of the GA section because everyone had rushed the stage to get a better look at the performers.

“Get off of me.” you pushed him away

“Come on babe don’t be this way.” he was beyond wasted

“You’re being embarrassing there are children here you’re gonna get us kicked out,” you whisper screamed at him

“But why babe.” he pushed his face towards yours

“Stop calling me babe” you looked for help from your friends

“Come on Louis lets get you some water.” your friend grabbed him off of you

“No let go of me dude.” he flicked off his hand returning too you

At this point, the song had finished and the group song started. You looked around you hoping no one was noticing the scene that was unfolding.

“Louis I swear on the lord that above if you don’t stop you’re gonna get kicked out because you’re ruining the night for everyone,” you whispered into his ear trying to be discrete

“This is why I hate you!” he screamed pulling your hair a little

“Oww stop that.” you swatted his hand away

He pulled your hair harder pulling you to the floor. At this point, you weren’t able to see anything around you your focus on the throbbing pain in your head from the impact and the pulling. You heard a commotion as the crowd looked at both of you. You were blacking in and out concussed. You saw Louis being held back by one of your friends.

Soon you were looking at all the faces of the concert-goers turnaround and back on the performers.

You looked on the stage to see the perfectly choreographed dance continue. You looked back at Louis hoping to tell him off when you saw him charging at you again.

“Stop. Stop. someone help.” at this point you were looking for any help you could get already weak from before. Soon his fists made contact with your body and face pushing you to the ground where he climbed on top of you slapping and hitting you as bystanders tried to pull him off.

“Cut the music.” you heard the man you had been watching say into his microphone.

“What stop hobi,” a bandmate said

You heard the sound of someone punching someone else and the screams of all the fans and saw the screen go black.

“Stop it. Hey, you stop get him out of here.” you looked up to see the big screen displaying another member walking off stage and into your section.

“Hey. Hey. Can I get security to call the cops?” his voice wasn’t on the speakers anymore.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you said pulling yourself up in spite of the pain.

You didn’t realize that the man in front of you was extending his hand, you took the hand without looking at who it was. Instead of looking at his face you examined his hand seeing his knuckles were angry and looked like they were bruising.

“Thank you, sir. I’m so sorry you had to see that.” you finally looked up. It was like none of the dots connected in your mind until then and you realize why the music had stopped, why it seemed like they had gotten off stage and why security had cleared a path.

“It’s okay honey why don’t we take you backstage for some medical attention.” he gave you a weak smile. I must look awful you thought to touching your face and seeing some blood on your hand. Then you realized you were still holding his and quickly pulled away. You looked to see another one of the members talking with security concluding that he had been the one who called out.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I can see myself out so the show can continue. Please excuse any inconvenience I may have caused you.” You felt yourself tearing up as you saw the whole GA section look at you and then looked on stage and saw the other members and back up dancers look at you. You looked down immediately. You started to walk away but felt a hand catch yours.

“I think it would be best if a team member helped you get this all sorted out.” the man said.

“Hey, you can you please see that she gets some treatment and take her to the back” He gave you the most beautiful smile you had ever seen and walked in the other direction.

“I am so sorry guys for the interruption who wants to see ‘mic drop’ again!” you heard the crowd go wild at those words.

“Hi, miss” the manager he had pointed to you approached you. “Can you follow me or do you want me to call someone to help you walk?” she looked at you with sympathy in her eyes

“No I can walk.” you kept looking down noticing the blood on your sneakers that must have fallen from your face.

Soon you were sitting down on a couch somewhere in the stadium looking at the performance through a T.V. You were holding an ice pack to your face. The woman had brought you here and told you that a police officer would be up to take a statement and that some compensation would be given since the security didn’t intervene earlier.

You watched the group play on a bouncy house having the time of their lives singing an upbeat song. Soon you were swaying your head with the music. “Waiting for you anpan…” and the door opened like a woman with a badge came in.

“Hi, ma’am. It is stadium policy that all statements be taken on-site by all those involved except for the assailant.” she had an award-winning smile and long black hair which framed her beautiful face distinguished by honey brown eyes. You were at a loss of words it seemed like today you were meeting more beautiful people than your heart could handle.

“Ok.” you managed to get out

“Good. You’ll be staying here until the concert concludes and then I’ll have to ask that you come down and show us what happened.” she smiled and exited the room.

You picked up your phone and called your friend.

“Marina, wherein the fuck are you?” you shouted into the phone

“I’m at the station with Louis,” she answered sounding frustrated

“Why are you with him and not with me?” you asked your voice breaking slightly

“I don’t know why we were rushed out and why you only got to stay cause that guy was helping you. That’s just the way it worked out I guess,” she replied

“I don’t think I can do this. I was just assaulted by my boyfrie-I mean ex-boyfriend.” you corrected “I’m so alone.” you sobbed

“I’m sorry (y/n) I can’t talk right now.” you heard the click of her hanging up and sobbed.

You looked onto the screen seeing the performance winding down. All the members seemed to be enjoying it except the one who had helped you. He seemed lost in thought and worried. You wondered if he could be thinking of you.

Soon the speeches came and you waited to hear the man who had helped you speech. Finally, it got to him and you could hear the crowd chanting.

“Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok.”

“Hoseok, so that’s your name.” you thought out loud.

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antiquechampagne · 5 years

Text

Beastly Kingdom - CH15 - The Road Home

Liz sat outside the buzzing courtyard in a chair William had brought her. Facing the battlefield, she sipped some irradiated water and watched. Her body was healed enough that she didn’t need to worry about bleeding out, but everything felt like it was being held together by 200 year old bubblegum and duct tape. Any more stimpacks and she risked getting sicker than she already was. Anyway, others needed them more than she did. So she sat, her arm resting in a ratty sling and let the rads do their work.

Groups of prisoners, their hands raised over the heads or shackled, shambled past surrounded by grim and bloodied troops. Liz wasn’t really in the habit of taking prisoners, but that was the General’s call, not hers. They were his problem now. Every now and then, the gunfire echoed across the field. From the best she could tell, most of it was coming from the ruined airport.

Footsteps approached her from behind, but she didn’t turn around. The steps were heavy but confident. The General’s steps. Besides, William was keeping a close eye on her from the side of the building. She took another swallow of poisoned water.

“Looks like you won your war, General,” she quipped.

“In no small part, thanks to your help…” he paused, “Literally. Just for the record, though, maybe look into taking the stairs.”

Liz chuckled. “You may have a point. I don’t think I’m too eager to repeat that swan dive again.”

Nate shuffled uncomfortably. “Look… I just heard on the radio that that deathclaw of yours is making it really hard for our guys to clear the interior of the airport. Do you think there is any way you could… you know… call her back or something?”

Liz leaned forward in her creaking chair. Of course, he would ask her to get up now, wouldn’t he?

“Tell your guys to clear out of the way of the exits. I’m not responsible if someone gets in between a deathclaw and where she wants to go.”

Nate nodded and headed back inside. Liz gave him some time to relay the orders. She stretched her limbs, sluggishly ambling forward onto the now silent battlefield. After a minute, she put a pair of fingers in her mouth and released an ear-piercing whistle. Then, she waited.

A few moments passed by before she saw a glowing blue mass come bounding out of the building, racing pass the wreckage of Liberty Prime and through the gaping hole in the wall. Liz couldn’t help but smile. Mama reminding her of some giant irradiated puppy being called back home for supper.

No sooner had this thought bloomed in her mind than it was ripped away in a fiery flash. As Mama sprinted over a fallen heap of power armors, an explosion shredded the ground, throwing her to the side.

“Damn it!” Liz spat, racing as best she could across the uneven field, pocked marked from the day’s events. William ran to her side, quick to help if her leg or balance faltered. She waved him off indignantly, even though she could feel edges of her wounds grow angry and hot. Mama regained her footing and limped towards her, closing the gap between them. Liz could see countless scorches and lacerations crisscrossing Mama’s hide, but it seemed the cobbled together armor had shouldered the brunt of the damage. What she was really worried about was her right front paw, which Mama was purposely hiding as she shuffled about sniffing and licking Liz.

“Knock it off.” Liz gently scolded. “Show me your hand. Come on!” She pulled her arm of the sling and put her open hand out, palm up. “Show! Now!” she said a bit more sternly.

Reluctantly, Mama lifted her bloody limb and placed it in Liz’s hand. In the middle of the scorched and blackened paw, a piece of wicked shrapnel had embedded itself, poking out painfully. Blood ran freely over her fingers.

“Oh Mama, you need to be a bit more careful where you step. Landmines are nasty little shits, aren’t they?” Liz turned to William, who staying just out of Mama’s arms reach. “Give me your blade,” she demanded. William obliged. As she reached for the blade, she realized she still held the bottle. Placing it on the ground, she took the knife. Liz looked deep into Mama’s glowing eyes and held them. She hoped that her message would get through. If not, and she lost Mama’s trust...

“I need to get this out. It is going to hurt, probably a lot. But you need to stay still.”

Carefully, she began to tease out the shard, trying hard to dislodge it without making the wound worse. Mama snarled and gnashed her teeth, growling viciously inches from Liz’s ear. Liz ignored her, focusing at the delicate and dangerous task at hand. Slowly, the flesh released its grip on the twisted metal and it slid silently out of the wound. Mama began to pull her hand away.

“Not yet, Mama.” Liz warned. Mama stopped. Liz picked up the irradiated water. She gently rinsed Mama’s wound, her blue blood washing away cleanly. Liz watched as Mama’s flesh began to knit back together.

“That’s a good girl.” Liz released her paw and patted her forehead.

The rest of their time was consumed by the logistics of caring for the wounded, stripping the airport of useful scrap and splitting the spoils. The day was just starting to turn when they started heading back home, their pace slow but steady.

Nate had joined their rabble; saying there was kind of some final details that needed ironing out, so he tagged along. Everyone nursed their wounds as they walked, drinking and laughing, surprised by the fact that anyone had actually made it through the fight.

Dusk painted the sky as they neared the Nuka-World main gate, the low clouds a mix of purples and reds reminding Liz of puffy bruises. Liz was joking with Mason, elbowing him in the arm and laughing when he dropped his shotgun. Mags put a hand on her shoulder.

“Boss? You seeing this…”

Turning around, Liz stopped in her tracks. The silence hit her. No greetings from guards or banter from people hanging around the market. Only the sound of the wind greeted them as they stepped through the turnstiles.

“Holy fuck,” Mason whispered under his breath.

Before them lay bodies piled in bloody heaps on the steps leading to the park map station. Liz spotted Pack members, Operators and locals as she walked up the slick concrete stairs. Familiar faces hung by ropes in front of the giant maps. Liz could feel her blood boil as the flies buzzed by her ears. Someone behind her wretched. Reaching up, she plucked a folded paper with the word TRATOR scrawled in large letters pinned to Dr. Mackenzie’s chest with a stiletto. Time stopped and her blood froze in her veins as she read the words inside.

With out a word, Liz dropped the paper and bolted. She ran fast, beating it over the broken pavement, ignoring any pain coming from her recently reknitted muscles and bones. She passed more bodies as people yelled behind her. She ignored everything, focusing solely on reaching Kiddie Kingdom as fast as possible. The barricades in front of the gate were broken, streaked with scorch marks splattered with blood. Liz sprang over the corpses of the guards laying in the entryway, upsetting the last bit of stability of the wooden boards, sending them loudly clattering to heap the ground. Frantically she scanned the empty queues and still rides for any sign of Louis or Oswald. All she found were feral ghoul corpses, their colorful faces now painted in their own blood.

A distant pop of a handgun pierced the air, followed by a muffled scream. Again, Liz shot off. She rounded a corner and stopped, unprepared for the scene before her. Oswald lay crumpled in a fetal position at the bottom step of a dilapidated tower. Green glowing blood oozed between his clenched finger and pooling around him.

He gasped as he saw her. “Liz! Get back…” His voice was weak, his warning trailing off.

At the top of the stair stood Gage, an icy cold glare bore down on her. His pipe gun turned and pointed at her, but Liz ignored it. Her eyes were locked on Louis. Her son writhed in Gage’s iron grip, his fist clutching the chest of Louis’ dirty striped shirt in a tight ball even as the feral boy tore and bit at his skin.

“LOUIS!” she gasped, and then growled. “Let him go, Gage!”

“There you are, Boss.” He leveled the gun at her. “I was starting to wonder if you would ever show up for the fun!”

“Put him down!” she screamed again. Her mind raced, trying to calculate any way to get either Louis or the gun out of Gage’s hand. She stood frozen in place, anything that might have been able to leverage too far out of reach to be of use. All she had was her wits. “What the fuck have you done?”

“What have I done? What the fuck have YOU done, Boss? I brought you into the outfit, and you are gutting us!” Gage’s one eye never wavering its hateful and deadly glare.

“What the hell are you talking about? I’ve done EVERYTHING for Nuka-World! All we had to do was take out those fucking Brotherhood bastards and we were golden! We can just sit back and watch the caps flow in!”

“WRONG!” Gage spat. “You slaughtered the Disciples! You cut our forces by a half!”

“Is THAT what this is about? Nisha and them were a bunch of homicidal maniacs! There was NO WAY they were ever going to get on board with the plan! Can’t you see that?” Liz inched a half a step towards Gage as she spoke.

“NO!” he screamed. He roughly wrapped his muscular arm around Louis, drawing him to his chest. Louis spat like a trapped animal, his legs kicking wildly. Liz stopped. “You tried to make us tame, to tempt us into a life of servitude to Commonwealth assholes with caps… a pet of this General to get fat off his shit! You forgot what we ARE! What we were. But I’m not going to forget. I’m a MOTHER-FUCKING RAIDER!”

Before Liz could react, Gage placed the muzzle of the gun against Louis’ head and pulled the trigger. Time stopped.

The flash.

The flying bits of skull and brain.

The smell of blood, gunpowder and sugar.

The evil smirk on Gage’s twisted lips.

Everything detail burned into her brain. Her mind spun and ground against itself. The gears of her mind stripped themselves in a futile attempt to comprehend what she was witnessing.

“LOUIS!” she screamed. Her son’s name was the last word that would ever pass through her lips again.

#beastly kingdom #Liz Rosa #ao3 #fan fiction #fanfic #fallout #fan fic #nuka world #murder #death #violence

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coffeelouis · 6 years

Note

TELL US ALL ABOUT MEETING LOUIS!!!!!!!!

AHHHHHH I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS!!!!!

so essentially, we weren’t sure it was going to happen. x factor ended at 9 (except they kept us after a few minutes to do promo for next week), and we all lined up, and i was in place in the queue by 9:15. at around 9:45 i’d say (?), this guy was trying to get to two cars parked behind us, and he and the security guard and person he was with were all really annoyed we were there and were like “omg just fucking move girls” and “no one’s coming out, i don’t know why you’re waiting” which was fucking annoying but whatever. mate was just mad he couldnt get to his car (AND MOST OF THE REASON HE COULDN’T WAS THE ROAD WAS SO BLOCKED WITH BUSES AND A MILLION OTHER CARS DOING GOD KNOWS WHAT INCLUDING GETTING INTO AN ACCIDENT WHICH WE LITERALLY SAW AND WHICH I POINTED OUT IN MY 3-MINUTE VIDEO I TOOK WHEN LOUIS CAME OUT BUT WHAT THE FUCK EVER)

anyway, the last tube from the station nearby was 10:30. the tube stops running full-stop at 12. this is just some context. at ~12 (i wasn’t paying attention to the time, but i was on the street walking away at 12:20 and this all happened pretty quickly), louis’ security guard (i think? not 100% sure who he was) was like “girls, he’s not coming out” but then very quickly changed to “if you can get into groups of at LEAST 6, probably 10, i’ll bring him out” so we do so and he ends up even getting barricade things to mark them and it’s all a very intense production. so we arrive at the climax

louis comes out!!!!!! i took a video of literally the whole interaction, which i sent to the louisource gc, and they posted the bit where he’s right in front of me, but if people want the whole 3-minutes where he’s also at other points and kinda far away, i can post that too. (be warned, you can hear me talking and it’s Very Embarassing. i def told him i loved him like many many times and i also pointed out the guy taking pictures of the car he hit while he was trying to park, lol) ANYWAY, it was incredible! he was so sweet and cute and he kept saying “love youse!” and at one point said that while looking at me which was INCREDIBLE. he also pushed his elbow back when putting his arm around anthony and fucking nudged me and it was the best moment of my life, i TOUCHED THE ICONIC LARRY DENIM JACKET.

hmmm..what else? well, he’s really just a sweetie and i love him with my whole heart and tonight just makes that even more true. i love my dad!!!

also, as another note, my whole rant at the beginning is there because like, they couldnt NOT bring louis out at that point?? like they’d let us all stand there freezing for 3 hours, possibly getting hypothermia (likely getting hypothermia, lbr, i stood outside freezing for 14 fucking hours today) and the thing is, that all couldve been avoiding if they’d made a broad announcement at the beginnging like “hey folks! louis not feeling it tonight, so please make arrangements to get home on time and get home safe, thanks for coming!” because, of course some would’ve stayed anyway, but a lot would have been like “ok, he’s not coming, let’s fucking catch the tube while we can” etc. but when you dont make an announcement like that (that guy i mentioned at the beginning doesnt count, cause he muttered it to like 10 of us gathered in that one spot, while there were hundreds of people there and it came from a place of annoyance), you cant get annoyed when we stay. and it’s just bad form to be like “he’s not coming” RIGHT after the tube has closed for the night and these people have all more than likely committed to expensive ubers home. like, of course louis’ not entitled to meet us, but its just bad form to be annoyed with us for staying and then make it seem like he’s only coming out to meet us because we stayed when you couldve avoided that. but whatever. I MET LOUIS! AND IT WAS A GREAT FUCKING NIGHT!

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whiskynottea · 7 years

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We’ll rise up. Chapter 3 - At Master Raymond’s

Previously Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Taking the Bastille had only been the beginning. It was plain the attack was the turning point in everybody’s life.

“It's not a revolt; it's a revolution," the Duke of La Rochefoucauld replied to King Louis XVI when the latter asked about the attack.

The Commune de Paris, the new governmental structure, had been established in the Hôtel de Ville and refused taking orders from the central French government. The citizens expected retribution from the Versailles and built barricades made of stones to defend themselves, always keeping their weapons in hand. The counterattack, however, never took place. Instead, the king and his military commanders backed off.

The citizens, frenetic with their new power, invaded many a house of rich aristocrats known for their excruciating behavior towards the poor and after capturing them, they hung them on the streets’ lamp posts. The dreadful sight meant nothing to them. Their voices formed only one word: vengeance. All it took was a couple of shouts and a new aristocratic name for the drums to start playing and the weapons to be moved from belts to hands. The nobles, panicked, started fleeing the country.

Claire had slept for a maximum of three hours for days in a row. The pounding on her door seemed to never stop. She tried with all her might to help as many people as she could, not a life to be added in the ninety-eight people who had died in the courtyard of Bastille. Wounded men and women were taken to her after the fights; a lot of them injured by accident in the rushing mob. All those, added to her sick patients, made Claire’s monthly stock of ointments, dressings and herbs vanish in just two days.

Every knock on Claire’s door was a spark of hope in the darkness of her heart.

Maybe, this time, it would be him.

Before leaving with his godfather that night, he’d told her he’d come back. She was certain he’d meant it, she had seen the truth in his eyes. He wanted to see her again.

But Jamie never came back. It wasn’t his hand knocking on the door.

Claire started worrying about him. What if he was too weak to walk? What if the wound wasn’t healing?

She resolved to keep herself busy, not to think of what might happen to him. She had done her best to save him, used every bit of information she knew on his advantage and there was nothing that she would change in her approach.

Was that enough, though? Was she enough?

Despite how much she tried, even with her hands constantly working, Jamie was always on her mind, making her be on pins and needles.

Why didn’t he come? What if he wasn’t careful enough and opened the wound again? He could act like a bloody hero, judging from how he had depreciated his injury when she’d first assessed his injury. But even if he had been careful, even if he took her advice seriously, there was always a chance he would develop a fever. Oh God, let it be a small one if he is to have a fever at all.

Claire waited, feeling insufficient as long as she was away from him with her only option to pray. She didn’t know who he was and where he was living. She had never seen him before the attack.

The morning of the third day, Claire took a look at her empty medicine kit and started towards the central Paris, where her favourite apothecary and friend was. Central Paris was politically neutral, right between the rebellious east and the rich west of the city. Despite that, Claire was cautious and tried not to draw any attention on her way to Master Raymond’s. When she left Saint Antoine behind, she kept her head down and continued past the City Hall, towards the Louvre where Raymond’s shop was. Never halting on her way, she passed by carriages with closed curtains transferring their passengers safely -- at least for the moment -- and houses with closed shutters to keep their inhabitants protected. Some men were gathered here and there, talking, but she didn’t go close enough to listen to their discussions. Keeping a fast pace, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest when she reached Master Raymond’s apothecary.

“Hello, Delphine.” She smiled at the girl behind the counter.

“Good morning, Claire.” Delphine walked to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I will call Master Raymond immediately. He’s at the back.”

Claire saw Delphine disappear and started looking around for the supplies she needed. She heard Master Raymond coming to her before she could see him.

“Claire! It’s been a while. I was worried about you.”

“Well, yes. It’s been a hard few days to be sure. But as you can see, I am alright,” Claire said with a shy smile and span around herself to show that, indeed, she was fine.

“That’s good, my child. I know it’s the other side of this war that suffers the most right now but I couldn’t be but worried about you. I guess you went to the Bastille?”

Claire smiled again and nodded, letting Raymond continue.

“Of course you did.” He shook his head. “I suppose it was too challenging for you to stay behind. Just be careful, Claire. I know which side you support and with some of your former acquaintances, you should be extremely cautious. Even coming here today was not very wise, if I may say so.”

“I know, Raymond. But I’ve run out of almost everything and what good can I do if my kit is empty? I had to come, you surely understand. I can assure you that I made it as fast as I could and I was very careful on the way.”

“I am sure of that. Tell me then, what is it that you need?”

Claire removed a list from her pocket and handed it to him. Frowning and humming, he moved around the shop and gathered the supplies on the counter.

“I am afraid I don’t have any laudanum at the moment, Claire. If you are not in a hurry I can ask Master Christophe for some and you may come by in a day or two to retrieve it. I wouldn’t want to see you going to Champs-Élysées right now, and this is where his shop is,” he paused, thinking. “No,” he resumed. “Not in my worst nightmare. You better come here again, Madonna, than going there.”

Claire nodded, accepting his kindness. She wouldn’t dare to go to Champs-Élysées. “This is fine, thank you, Raymond.”

Raymond’s faint smile didn’t alter his troubled countenance.

“People have risen up, Claire, and you have to remember that sense is not their major drive right now. You are one of them, a dreamer and a rebel, but it may take just a moment for them to change their minds and consider you an enemy. A spy, that is.” He moved closer and took her hands in his. “Ah, mon chéri, if you have no familiar faces around to claim you a “Jacques” -- as you rebels call each other -- what will become of you? This is why I don’t want you to come here very often. As much as I miss your company, you have to stay safe in Saint Antoine.”

“You’re right Raymond, of course,” Claire replied, knowing the danger of her situation. “Thank you, I appreciate your concern.” Claire hugged her small round friend, the closest she had known to a father in the last 10 years since her uncle Lambert died. She gathered the medicines and placed them carefully in her box. “I will see you again in two days from now!” she said, took a deep breath and left the shop.

Out in the sun, with its rays almost blinding her eyes, Claire bent her head again and started towards the Hôpital des Anges, close to Notre Dame. It was more than a week since she last was there and she was sure that Mother Hildegard would need her help.

She had to see Claudel as well. Maybe he had met Jamie during one of his previous ‘adventures’ in the city.

Chapter 4

#outlander fanfic #we'll rise up #jamie x claire #outlander fanfiction #historical fanfic #18th century #french revolution

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pontificalandwarlike · 7 years

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Enjolras the (Non-)Survivor

Or, an essay on why I struggle with survivor!Enjolras

[ cut for length...... buckle down kids cause this is about to be a long one. ]

As I hinted at previously, there are 3 layers to why survivor!Enjolras is a strange and confusing beast to me.

Let’s start with the easiest/simplest, which is: history. See, the point of having Enjolras survive the barricade is usually to give him a second chance, right ? He lives, he continues on, and he triumphs the next time, or maybe two tries later, or maybe ten –– but the ultimate goal is a happy ending of sorts for our golden boy. Or at least a triumphant ending, a closure of sorts, a successful closing arc for him and his Revolution. Except.... 19th century history isn’t kind to the French Republic. A lot of survivor!verse stuff take 1848 as the happy ending ( and I in no way mean to insult or nitpick them at all ). And on the surface, that makes sense ; that’s the next successful revolution ! Except the revolution might have been successful, but the Second French Republic born of it really wasn’t. Like, the February Revolution of 1848 happened in... February, as the name suggests; four months later, the June Days Uprisings were a major rebellion in Paris, where the workers rose up en masse, complete with barricades, in protest against the Second Republic’s policies. I won’t go too much into history here ( although there’s a lot of fascinating stuff ; a book I read characterized the June Days as the last major barricades ), I mostly wanted to mention it as an indicator of how rocky the Second Republic was from the start. And then, of course, the Second Republic lasted all of four years. In 1852 we have the Second French Empire, because they went and elected Louis-Napoléon Bonaparte –– aka Napoleon III, aka Napoleon Bonaparte’s nephew and heir –– as the president of the Second Republic, and he did as Bonapartes apparently do in France. So, with 1848, Enjolras either dies on that barricade, or lives to see his beloved Republic fall apart in front of his very eyes and then give way to yet another empire. Not a very happy ending, and quite honestly, I don’t know how much his story changes functionally from what we already see in canon.

Let’s say for the sake of argument that this boy survives past 60 and sees the next republic come to be in 1870. Well, first of all, to do that, he has to :

lead a failed rebellion and deal with the physical, legal, and emotional aftermath of that

live under a regime he tried to overthrow for another 16 years

watch the Second Republic fall apart and give way to the Second Empire

live in an empire for almost 20 years

and finally, live through yet another bloody revolution

which, clearly, is not a great time for anyone. But also, the Third Republic was a bit of a mess of its own. See : the Franco-Prussion War, the Ordre Moral and the suppression of the Commune which lead up to 16 May 1877 ( “le seize mai” ), the aggressively polarized politics... Hell, just look at the wikipedia page for the Third Republic. Similar to 1848, simply getting to 1870 and the successful Revolution that leads to the Third Republic is not a happy ending in and of itself.

The point of all this historicizing is that, given his position in history, and his ideology as a radical revolutionary republican –– no matter what he survives and lives to see, Enjolras is just destined to be a tragic figure. There’s just no happy ending for him in history ; the best he can do is go out in a symbolic blaze of glory on a barricade somewhere, as he does.

Alright, let’s move on to layer #2 now, which is the symbolic/meta layer. This is also the most fun layer for me, and I’ll shamelessly mooch on some other people’s brilliant meta for this. There’s a lot of things you could talk about in the Brick, but I’m going to speak mainly to one of my perpetually favourite scenes, which is the execution of Le Cabuc. More specifically, the speech that follows right after it. I could quote the whole damn thing, but the key part is :

“As for myself, compelled to do what I have done, but abhorring it, I have judged myself also, and you shall soon see to what I have condemned myself. [...] Citizens, in the future there shall be neither darkness nor thunderbolts, neither ferocious ignorance nor blood for blood. As Satan shall be no more, so Michael shall be no more. In the future no man will slay his fellow, the earth will be radiant, the human race will love. It will come, citizens, that day when all shall be concord, harmony, light, joy, and life; it will come, and it is so that it may come that we are going to die.” (Tome IV, Book 11, Chapter 8)

It took so much restraint to not bold the entire passage, but I managed to stick to a few phrases only. There’s sort of two ideas happening here. One is nor blood for blood / in the future no man will slay his fellow / all shall be concord, harmony, which is to say that Enjolras and the revolutionaries are fighting for a world without violence. Sit on the contradiction of that statement for a moment. They are fighting for a world without violence. There’s a fundamental ideological crisis here, and that is the contradiction of violence in the name of a world without violence. A question aries, then: where do people who have shed blood in the name of liberty and progress, fit in a world after revolution? More specifically for me & this essay, where does Enjolras, a “pontifical and warlike nature” fit in a peacetime world ? We have our answer in to what I have condemned myself / so Michael shall be no more / we are going to die. The answer is, he doesn’t and he can’t. The answer is, if you try to fit him in, he becomes Robespierre and Saint-Just and the Terror. The answer is, a warlike nature is a warlike nature in war or in peace ; and Enjolras is made to be the war that brings down regimes, and just because there is no more regime to be brought down doesn’t change his nature. ( Note that this is many chapters before the moment they realize they’ve been abandoned, that Paris isn’t coming to their aid ; that doesn’t happen until Tome V, Book 1, Chapter 3. Why does that matter ? Because Enjolras has no reason yet to believe they won’t survive this rebellion. And yet here he is, already condemning himself –– to death, I imagine, given the rest of his speech –– and a few lines later proclaiming that we are going to die. The revolutionaries, these men fighting with blood and sweat and tears for the future, are not going to live to see it. Because there isn’t a place for them in the world they are trying to build. They’re writing themselves out of the future. )

All this to say : if Enjolras survives a successful barricade, there is no place for him in the world it creates. He has already condemned himself, and the rest of the revolutionaries with him ( “We will share your fate !” Combeferre shouts, and Enjolras replies simply with “Very well.” ) He is Michael, and in a world where Satan is no more, he too will be and must be no more. ( I mooched a lot of ideas off of this meta thread, so feel free to go there for more intelligent, coherent, and informed thoughts than mine. )

Okay, then what about a failed barricade ? Well, let’s talk about that on the symbolic/meta level for a bit. Enjolras surviving a failed barricade... doesn’t make sense, on that level. It’s sort of the point of his story, that he dies there. That he dies embracing Grantaire, holding his hand, smiling. That’s the ultimate sacrifice, yes, but also the closure of his character arc : accepting love, accepting the skeptic, accepting people-with-a-lower-case-p, even when they don’t fit neatly into his revolutionary worldview. It’s a symbolic redemption of the heartless, ruthless version of republicanism he espouses at the very start ; it’s the antithesis of “Silence before Jean-Jacques! I admire that man. He disowned his children; very well, but he adopted the people.” In other words, his arc remains incomplete on a symbolic level if the barricade fails and yet he doesn’t die. Also, can you imagine Enjolras surviving the barricade when everyone else has died ? I sure can’t, unless some magic stepped in and saved him when the Guard thought he was dead and he really should have been dead.

Anyway, having addressed the symbolic/meta reasons of why Enjolras surviving the barricades is a baffling situation to be in, let’s go to the third and most practical layer : characterization. Look, Enjolras as we see him in the Brick is made of exactly two things, and that is 99% Revolution and 1% his friends. ( Percentage may vary. ) So then, who is he when we rip both of those things away from him ? Who is Enjolras, when his Revolution has failed and his friends have all died ? I don’t have a good answer to that. I can’t possibly imagine him giving up, or God forbid turning a cynic, because that runs contrary to his entire person. It’s hard to imagine him becoming a moderate, peaceful republican or something along those lines, because he’s built on quite the absolutes, and while Combeferre/Courfeyrac/Feuilly/et al. to temper his beliefs, I just don’t think there’s a way he’s ever going to bend that far. He’d break before that. But at the same time, there’s no way he can go on like before, as if nothing happened. That’s just not how trauma works. This boy, all of 26 years old, waged a war, had his hands drenched in blood, killed people he didn’t want to kill ( see : the artillery sergeant scene ), watched all of his friends die by his side, was abandoned by a group of people he believed so deeply would be on their side, and saw the ideals he devoted his entire life to shatter to rubble in front of his own eyes. He’s not walking away from that unchanged, because that’s just not how human beings work.

So then, to summarize. I can’t imagine him giving up, because it’s not who he is as a person; I can’t imagine him choosing a moderate path, because I don’t think he has it in him to be that tempered; I can’t imagine him continuing as he was, because that’s just not how we work as people. So I’m at an impasse.

An Enjolras who survives with a few of his friends is easier to work with, because he as room to be at both ends. He can go through his terrible post-barricade phase, the survivor’s guilt, the trauma, the fears and the insecurities and the doubts that are borne of that experience. But then he can build himself back up, piece by piece, with the help of his friends –– and he can help them build themselves back up in turn. And at the end of the day, they stand back up as they did, scarred and wounded by their experiences but still standing. For what, I’m not so sure ( see history rant above ), but at least standing.

But an Enjolras who survives alone ? I genuinely have no idea what he would do or be, in the long-term. In the short term, sure, he’d be terribly guilty and terribly scarred and probably honestly terrified for a while. And then ? Does he heal from that on his own –– and if so, how ? What happens if he does heal –– does he go on to join or found another revolutionary group ? What happens if he doesn’t heal –– does he die, somehow ?

This is not to say that I don’t like writing survivor!verse. The opposite is true, actually ; I love it. I love angst, first of all, but it also lets me explore a side of Enjolras that doesn’t happen a lot in other places. Which is to say, an Enjolras stripped and broken down, an Enjolras shattered and torn apart, an Enjolras guilty and doubting and robbed of his own self-assured confidence. This essay is more to explore in more depth why I struggle with Enjolras post-barricades on a broader and longer-term scale. I could probably go on but I’ll stop now because this is already 2100+ words.

#⚔ penned by jenn –––– ( ooc. )#⚔ a hand wrote on it in pencil –––– ( meta. )#|| i'm calling this meta bc i don't know what else to call it #|| here you go this took me far too long #|| god i hope this is coherent #|| deleting the thought-ramble version in favour of this

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frecklesandthenerd · 5 years

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A Few Days in Paris

We were in Paris a little over two years ago for our honeymoon, so we weren’t planning to come back this soon. Jason had a conference, though, and when one gets a chance to tack on a trip to Paris, one should do so.

We landed at 8:00 am local, which is never fun, but we dropped off our bags and headed out to drink a lot of coffee and get some food. We also walked over to Notre Dame, which we were curious to see since the fire. It was...a bit heart breaking. There’s a metal and razor wire fence around the cathedral and surrounding grounds, right in front of the rows of cafes that previously had prime real estate. Notre Dame is such an amazing center point of the city, and it’s hard to see it barricaded. They are working hard to restore it, though, and it’s clear that it will be back.

Notre Dame under construction (Photo/Jason Rafal)

We also went to Shakespeare and Company to say hi to the books and the cat, and headed to the Louvre to do some people watching. We didn’t go in - we’re still pretty intimidated by the crowds and the pure size of the building, and we were exhausted - but it’s a fun area to wander.

Philosophical decisions at Shakespeare and Company (Photo/Jason Rafal) Wedding pictures at the pyramid (Photo/Jason Rafal) People watching near the Louvre (Photo/Jason Rafal)

While Jason was napping, I found one of my new favorite parks in the city - Parc des Buttes-Chaumont. There’s a pavillion on top of an island in the lake, and it’s quite beautiful. There’s also a lot of sloping lawn where I got to sit and read with the Parisians.

A multi-layered park view (Photo/Nicole Harrison)

On Sunday we took a bike tour of Versailles. I’d highly recommend doing a bike tour, since you’re able to see so much more of the grounds that way. It’s also far less crowded than the palace and garden area.

After we took the train out to Versailles in the morning, our guide took us to an indoor/outdoor market to buy picnic food. It’s probably one of my favorite markets that I’ve been to - it’s very picturesque and has a variety of food and wine to purchase (that being said, Jason didn’t get any pictures of it that he liked, so you’ll just have to go yourselves). We picked up the five essentials of a French picnic: bread, cheese, salami, fruit, and wine (we found a Marsannay, one of my favorite white wines, that I was very excited about). From there, we headed into the grounds.

Starting our bike ride in the town of Versailles (Photo/Jason Rafal) A very classy classic car (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The grounds of Versailles are used for several things right now - Gordon Ramsey has a restaurant that looks out over the grounds, and there’s a farm to grow the food, as well as sheep and goats. It’s also classically pastoral and quite beautiful. We had a picnic lunch on the west side of the Grand Canal, and it was lovely and peaceful, with only a few other groups nearby.

The Palace of Versailles across the Grand Canal (Photo/Jason Rafal) Biking through the grounds (Photo/Jason Rafal) A few hedgehogs climbed out of the hedges at Versailles, juch to everyone’s delight (and the confusion of the Australians in our group, who wanted to know how big they get) (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Our guide told us a lot of French history as we made our way through the grounds. Most of what we learned was about Louis XIV, since he was the one who did most of the work on Versailles during his impressive 76 years of life, but we also heard about Louis XIII, XV, and XVI, making it a little difficult to keep everything straight. We learned about Marie Antionette, who was both very harshly judged and misunderstood (the quote about cake was not from her at all). But, she also made some rather lavish choices, like creating a sort of Bavarian working farm theme park where she and her children could pretend they were in Austria. It was both adorable and very weird.

Several generations of construction on a Bavarian village building (Photo/Jason Rafal) Another quite out of place village building (Photo/Jason Rafal)

After touring the grounds we went into Versailles, which is a place of excessive opulence. It’s very impressive, but the experience was hindered somewhat by the crazy crowds of people trying to see the most famous rooms. My favorite part (I’m not super into gilding, though it’s cool) was the painted ceilings - the attention to detail from the artists was truly incredible. It was also pretty crazy to imagine living in a place like that. We were only allowed in certain corridors, and we still felt lost a couple of times.

The courtyard of Versailles through the golden fence (Photo/Jason Rafal) A really incredible map built into a table (Photo/Jason Rafal) The Hall of Mirrors (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The gardens outside the palace are also amazing and ridiculous. There are double hedges everywhere so that servants could get around without the nobility seeing them. There are also a ton of fountains - I was blown away by the number of fountains that we happened upon while wandering. The fountains were originally gravity fed (which was one reason so many servants had to run around in the second layer of hedges), and they were still having some issues keeping them all running.

Looking out over the gardens and the Grand Canal (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Paris is amazing. It’s always been amazing, and it always will be amazing. We moved over one arrondissement and stayed in the 10th this time, right next to the metro, which was lovely after we walked 31 miles in the first 3 days and were in considerable discomfort. We revisited some of our favorite places and also explored some more of the inner neighborhoods.

An incredibly colorful fountain area in the city (Photo/Jason Rafal) Layers of murals (Photo/Jason Rafal) A scene of Paris (Photo/Jason Rafal) Late afternoon light (Photo/Jason Rafal) A blue heron in a city park (Photo/Jason Rafal) The Arc de Triomphe at night (Photo/Jason Rafal)

On Monday we went to the Eiffel Tower (twice, actually - once in the morning and once at night, when it was lit up) and did some general wandering and relaxing. Our feet were in a considerable amount of pain by this point, so we were trying to take it easy (though I still ended up walking over 14 miles, according to my watch). Night walking in Paris is wonderful, and the Eiffel Tower at night is amazing. I have no idea how they light it up so completely, but it’s breathtaking, even when you’re been staring at it for a while.

The Eiffel Tower, all lit up (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Since we had already been to Paris and Jason had a conference and some work to do, we did less touristy things and had some more downtime planned in. I spent hours reading - mostly in parks, but on one occasion in a wine bar while locals chatted enthusiastically around me and kids played soccer outside of the school nearby. Being an introvert in a country where I don’t speak the language is a combination that can be somewhat isolating, but it’s always nice to see the similarities in human interaction around the world. We’re very consistent creatures, and it’s comforting to see such familiar joy and frustration.

On Wednesday we went to the Musée d’Orsay, which is a wonderful art museum in an old train station. They have a pretty amazing collection, including a bunch from Monet, Manet, Picasso, and Rodin, which are some of our favorites. There’s also a light-filled indoor courtyard of sculptures, which I’m always a huge fan of.

Looking down the Musée d’Orsay (Photo/Jason Rafal) The view of the city through one of the giant clocks (Photo/Jason Rafal) Pompon’s Polar Bear (Photo/Jason Rafal)

We had a variety of food while in the city - French food, of course, but also some fusions and imports, including Italian, Lebanese, and BBQ that was a mix between North and South American. We also had a ridiculous amount of wine, because how can you not.

Overall, Paris was amazing, as expected. The food, the parks, the views, the absurdly convenient metro system - it’s just a very good city. We’ll be back again.

Also, museums are closed on Mondays. Keep that in mind.

Views from drinks on the Seine (Photo/Jason Rafal) Views of Paris at night (Photo/Jason Rafal) An incredibly decorated bench area off of the Promenade Plantée (Photo/Jason Rafal)

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