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fullhalalalchemist · 2 years

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smut and nsfw works can be very deranged sometimes but how is it fair to compare it to the actual harm of porn? even if there was absolutely 0 effect on the people watching it(such as increased likelyhood of sexual aggression, decreased empathy for rape victims, irreversible effects on the brain etc) the actors in porn videos would still experience what they experience. you can fantasize and preach till your mouth goes dry about the self-sufficient empowered sex workers who choose their own work, but it won't make the truth of millions of trafficked male and female children fueling the industry disappear. the high rates of suicide, addictions to get through the scenes, physical harm thats basically part of the job description? there is so many porn stars that have come out with their stories of what they experienced on set, yes even the successfull ones that went into the industry willingly. their abuse is not comparable to words on paper.

not the mention "my christian parents are against it so i must support it" is a very weak argument. its cringe shortsighted reactionary bullshit.

1) if there is increased likelyhood of sexual aggression, decreased empathy for rape victims, irreversible effects on the brain then how come millenials and gen z, which grew up on these, have a better understanding of consent, more egalitarian views on gender and sex, there's less teen pregnancy and less sex being had overall by the younger crowd even pre-pandemic. secondly, WHO is having an increased likelihood of sexual aggression? WHO has a decreased empathy for rape victims? because i'm sure you can point to america's flawless and amazing attitudes towards women and rape victims historically (sarcasm, in case you're too stupid to realize). studies show that men who access sex work have more egalitarian and feminist attitudes than those with antisex and antiporn sentiment

perhaps youre talking about the cis men who already are prone to abuse women and are using things like 'rough sex' and 'bdsm' as an excuse, and its more visible now? because that takes a lot of nuance to talk about and i agree with you there that this IS an issue, but these men would have found ways to do that anyway. perhaps the issue is not the porn itself but the society that encourages violence in an era where increased societal collapse is happening all around us? where the trend of backlash against women has been happening for over a decade and really isn't tied to porn/sex at all but more towards increasing feminist attitudes toward work and gender roles going mainstream?

2) so you're ignoring sex workers yet again, got it. because there's also a lot of sex workers who came out and said that they love their work, they love being a sex worker. and in either case, these are the same people who have been criminalized and brutalized by police globally, the main source of their abuse. in fact YOU can fantasize and preach til YOUR mouth goes dry about how its the worst industry ever while ignoring the millions of queer, disabled, women, and poc who are in this line of work and love it.

3) and are these millions of traffiked children in the room with us now? you think that if there were millions of traffiked kids, they'd show up in mainstream porn more, right? except they dont. 100 members of congress asked the DOJ to investigate OnlyFans bc of 80 possible instances of CSAM in the same time that facebooks 20 million cases went ignored by literally everyone. and who's the site thats getting punished? pornhub and other porn sites which have a well-documented effort of putting time, resources, and moderation of getting rid of this content that some users upload. endtraffikinghub was a fucking psyop by far-right christian orgs posing as 'anti-traffiking' orgs, oh my god. where the hell are you getting these numbers anyway? because CSAM is NOT porn and NOT the porn industry and its psychotic to equate them.

4) high rates of suicides, addictions to get through scenes. can you link any studies? and again, do you TALK to sex workers or do you just rehash claims made by these antiporn/"antitraffiking" "activists" who are almost always far-right christians in disguise (hello look at NCOSE, formerly known as morality in media) rather than the actual people who do the work? because i can point to you several thousands of people who show up to their non-porn non-sex work jobs faded as hell and also have suicidal tendnencies from being in those industries. the issue is LABOR & CAPITALISM, not sex and not porn.

5) sure, there is always cause for abuse of workers. but again that is a labor issue, because we live in a capitalist society and across the board there are workers being abused. sexual harrassment and assault is not unique to porn, and you're naive to think that lmao. if you truly gaf about getting rid of the industry you'd push for what sex workers are calling for, decriminalization. there are hundreds of sex worker unions who talk about the issues they face, and most of it is decriminalization. in india a union of 60k people recently won a big court case on this. its a labor issue if anything. the main source of abuse is extensive criminalization and banking discrimination which pushes people into poverty and homelessness as they're forced to do more irl work and come across the police who have been killing and raping sex workers this entire time.

6) and no, it's not a weak argument when we live in an increasingly christofascist state and world. its' actually a very very good argument for the suppression of sex and sex workers. because these same antiporn "activists" have co-opted feminist language and you're all falling for it and once again ignoring sex workers

and lets just clarify. people say "porn industry" and are referring to the sites like pornhub. the "industry" is where the workers are. there is no like, shadow overrulling company making all the porn. there are a bunch of filming companies who sex workers HAVE spoken out against and a bunch that they love to work for instead. there are millions of people who work on their own terms, from their own sites too. my PERSONAL opinion that has been motivated by listening to sex workers and reading both sociology and psychological research has been that i will always always always support the worker first before the industry. there are a lot of issues, that is true! but it's mainly a labor issue and sex workers have BEEN on the frontlines of negotiating for better working conditions. to say otherwise would be foolish and would show you simply dont pay attention. why do you think many of them go to use sites like onlyfans now over pornhub?

#long post #anonymous #antiporn #asks #TALK TO SEX WORKERS!!!!! STOP LISTENING TO NCOSE AND EXODUS CRY #anyway im not here to argue this because ur just wrong

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gabriel90212 · 26 days

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Despite symmetrics. Shadows of a solar eclipse Court positions Two people are watching few players like stars having sex in the sky in a big momentum after they turn back and see the city but it was real then. How would you react when good stole from bad all and stood in misappropriation of the realm institution over night? Is been decades since it started, now what before seemed a mind current is a permanent street twister someone is in the treating to focus, blue currents shapes parts of the within of its twister and something cracks in The Someone: I move! And the floor of the evil and mads starts sanking driving them away All the sudden all disappear They have an universal conquering plan one ending with them inside the stain forever ok? is Schedule since thousands of years, but they lose contact with good in time, the problem is that is such a huge cloud, no one normal ever finish to know beause italways end implosing in a far away border… who would think thats important? The result is that we have to run to scape now People shouldn’t believe more in movies and books that in the real world, is that why you are here too? If u wouldn’t know what was really happening I would understood u … DONT BELIVE ANYTHING IF NOT REAL DONT TOUCH ANYTHING! never take wrong for right

The voice u hear saying pretend to be mortal and you will be safe because they will lose contact is real but if you don’t judge them now these bad whitches are not going to stop

We know that nothing will happen, also that Second Life's bank accounts were frozen and the holograms will give the sound of The Realm in ways that nothing will be impure for example sir le monster: but this is us he is talking about us and is out of zone Judge: you are out of zone, you are either instructed, nor behaving and your orders rules society… silence sir le monster: my audience is not the world judge: really so you are good to go on stealing the benefits from everyone? don’t make us push ancient economics sir le monster: come on… judge: would you stop talking, repeat, repeat, repeat… you know what I hear when you are talking…? o my tomorrowland ring stop working again… you young people are all in big trouble, you should had stop reciving money when you had enough for a better future, that’s the good will!

Things are going to have to change, I woke up thinking why anyone couldn’t just walk to the restaurant naked if can be real doing so? how come this dictators can plan on putting on our birth this clothes and if a couple wants to elevate to the sky till shiftshiting kilometer tall to have sex while the world looks doing all right, who is going to say not to that?

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nonbinaryeye · 3 years

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Yes, @trustworthy-liar and I have plenty of headcannons regarding all the lives of Jonah Magnus.

Continuation of THIS POST.

Jonah Magnus

Charming young man who has one day appeared in the society and acted like he always belonged there. He doesn’t like talking about his past.

When he was young he read all books in a family library. After arriving to London he was very surprised by how much he still doesn’t know.

Met Barnabass Bennet for the first time when the young man was travelling through Scotland.

Barnabass later intorduced him to all his acquaintances in the high society such as Robert Smirke and all the others.

Very easily forgets himself in his studies and research especially when there's no one around to drag him away and force him to eat and sleep.

Still genuenly cared about his peers but unfortunately he cared about a knowledge a bit more.

Infamous member of many gentlemen clubs.

Dissapeared at age 83. His body was never found. There are rumors his ghost still wanders through the halls of the Magnus insitute.

(years mark the time Jonah’s conciousnes was inhabiting the body - who would guess that it correspond with time as the Head of the institute as well)

William Bennett

Young, pretty, had decent amount of money and fascinated by all the wierd and obscure things. He was naturally very intriqued when Jonah Magnus offered him a private tour through the artifacts...

Jonah took over William Bennett at age 21. Feeling sour after unsuccesful ritual he decided to enjoy the decadence.

Met with Mordechai once. Lets say Mordechai was not amused by Jonah figuring some way to live longer. And also by the name of the person he chose.

Accidentally got adicted to opium. Jonah didn’t realized till he skipped bodies becuase he was sure he could stop anytime he wanted.

The only time Jonah travelled out of England - to the world expo in Paris in 1989 (“oh it will be probably lame not as cool as ours”). He realized he did not get over his seasickness and fear of ocean by skipping a body way too late.

He met his death at age 47 becuase he got plenty of enemies and also there started to be several rumors about him. Also the opium addiction. Overall Jonah did not treat this body very well - yes, bodies are disposable but he is still living in them...

Jonah made the death look like a murder and framed one of his enemies for it.

Edward Lyon

Edward was boring looking librarian of the Magnus Institute who cared more about books than he cared about people

Body snatched at age of 34

Everyone wrote off Edward’s sudden change of personality as power getting into his head

Jonah establisehed closer relantionship with the Lukas family again - through the dullest person ever, Thomas Lukas

Went back to meticulously researching the rituals and haven’t stopped since

Died at the age of 64, written off as a heart attact (but for real Jonah just wanted to enjoy 1920′s as a young man)

Augustus Moore

Served in the WWI and after it ended he´was seeking a new life in London and decided to give a statement to the Magnus Institute where he caught the eye of the Head of the institute who offered him a job in the artifact storage

Jonah was jeallous of Augustus being young and having fun so he took over his body at 28 even though he previously planned to wait a bit longer

Around year 1929 he shortly reconnected with Thomas Lukas (who never figured out that he is the same person as Edward or Jonah Magnus - no matter how many not even subtle hints he was giving him)

Spent most of the WW2 hidden in the tunnels scared for his life institute (”Did I miss a Slaughter ritual?”)

During the great fog in 1952 got scared that there was succesfull Lonely ritual

Because there was way too many fog problems in London he decided to skip bodies in 1965 just to be prepared if there was really some ritual

Died at age 65 in a fire, absolutely unrelated to the conflict Jonah was having with the cult of the lightless flame at the moment

Richard Mendelson

Worked in the Library, double faced, acted nice to everyone but behind their back tried to discredit them to make himself look better

At last he got his promotion (to Head of the institute) at age 33

To Jonah’s dismay Mendelson turned out to be lactose intolerant (no cakes for Jonah :( )

This time he did not come to Lukas but Lukas came to him and boy was he disapointed, Nancy Lukas turned out to be real pain in the ass

Made a wagger with Nancy wether woman can be the Archivist and survive at least 10 years on such position (almost no archivist actually did) - unfortunatley the chosen Archivist was no one else but Gertrude Robinson herself

Unfortunately met his end at age of 47 in a car crash (because Jonah really wanted an icecream and cheese without consequences)

This only fed the rummors about the position of the head of the institute being cursed by Jonah Magnus himself (technically they were not wrong...)

James Wright

Filling clerk at the research department, unhappy, divorced and lonely man with past alcohol adiction problems

Body snatched at age 45, Jonah wanted much younger body of a man who he thouht was named Robert, turns out his name really was just “Bob” and he coudn’t have that

Turned out James had kids, one of them tried to reconect with their absent fater. Jonah was not very happy about it.

In 1989 met with Peter Lukas

Since he couldn’t have alcohol, he wanted to try opium again (moderately this time) and was shocked that it was illegal, so he turned to smoking and cake

Staged his death at age 68 as a suicide

Elias Bouchard

Worked at the artifact storrage

Jonah took his body sooner than previously planned because Elias wanted to get some horrendous tattoo

Jonah threw away all his clothes...but he kept the funny weed socks

Til his end in the Spiral Michael Shelley never figured out why his friend started to act so weirdly (Jonah had it as his side hobby to induce the paranoia in him by acting like the good old Elias to him from time to time)

Peter was very much not amused by this little stunt of Jonah Magnus

Stabbed by his Archivist to death while he was crying like a little bitch he is

𝙁𝙚𝙬 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙇𝙪𝙠𝙖𝙨 𝙛𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙮 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙪𝙣𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙅𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙝 𝙈𝙖𝙜𝙣𝙪𝙨

Mordechai Lukas

Already quite rich and well etabilished in the society

Owns a shipping company, which is later the only reason why he still interacts with people

Met with Jonah on gentleman business meeting, they were introduced to each other by Barnabas on Jonah’s demand

To Jonah’s disgust he got married when he was in his early forties

Around 1830s decided to disappear from the society completely only getting ocasionally annoyed by Jonah

After meeting William Bennett he decided that one lifetime with Jonah was enough and dissapeared into the Lonely forever (as you do)

Thomas Lukas

Mordechai’s possible grandson/grandnephew

Rising child lonely at it’s peak

Already married and with few kids when he met Edward. He heard that cheating partner makes one feel very lonely...

Unlike the other lonely avatars Jonah ever encountered this one was trully indifferent towards anything, driving Jonah mad by rarely showing any reaction

Had a brief relationship with both Edward and Augustus however never caught Jonah’s hints who he really is and just assumed that these eyevatars are all kinda the same

Nancy Lukas

The great pain in Mendelson’s ass

Neither impressed nor charmed by him

Regularly calls him out on his bullshit (sexism)

Lonely feminist - believes that independce for women will make everyone more lonely so she supports it

Calls Mendelson “Dick” because that’s indeed short version of Richard

Slightly intriqued by Gertrude Robinson (what a beautiful loneliness right there)

Peter Lukas

First Lukas after Mordechai who really intrigued Jonah

Originally started an affair with Wright because he thought it nice and lonely to be with someone old, who will soon die (boy was he surprised)

Except the train documentaries his guilty pleasure are also romantic movies with tragic ending (Titanic my beloved)

Actually figured it out on his own who Jonah Magnus is(because of course he wanted to play this game again with this fresh new Lukas)

Anyway both @trustworthy-liar and I still have plenty of headcannons about Jonah and all of his bodies (especially the oc ones) so you can probably expect more detailed posts with thorough biography of every single one of them in the future.

Just to be clear most of the dates as well as all the funfacts are really just our made up headcannons. We didn’t bother writing here some of the cannon events but they are marked on the well-arranged timeline.

#Did we waste our time by thinking way too much about Jonah Magnus and creating way too many headcannon about him?#Yes yes we did and we regret nothing...#Also I apologize for missing date of death on Elias' plate my gf is still in denial #Anyway yeah we still have plenty of thoughts and we will keep making it your problem as well #Or not you dont have to read this #tma #tma ocs #jonah magnus oc bodies #jonah magnus #all the lives of jonah magnus #elias bouchard #james wright #richard mendelson #lonelyeyes #all the more controversial headcannons (because trans jonah) will be in the future posts #mEye post #mEye jonah take

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kuronanox · 4 years

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Second chance - Kensei Muguruma

Yes she knew Kensei was dead, yes she knew that Kensei would leave one day and yes she still allowed herself to get hurt by him.

"What's on your mind?" Kensei asks her one day as they laid on her bed. "It's nothing." She replied flatly back, afraid to show she was feeling down.

He grunts at her response and flips her body towards him. "Stop with the stubborn talk." His face filled with concern as she knits her brows at him.

"I just wanna sleep." (Your Name) argued back as Kensei clicks his tongue in annoyance before facing his back away from her. "Suit yourself then."

(Your Name) turned her back away as tears fell from her eyes. She tried her hardest not to make a noise but her body was shaking. Her sniffles made Kensei picked her body up so she was sitting on his lap.

Kensei demeanor now changed as he could see she was feeling down about something. "Hey baby what's wrong?" His voice showed no roughness as she covered her face with her hands.

"I'm fine." She replies not looking him in the eyes.

Gently he removes her hands away from her face as she looks down.

"(Your Name)." Kensei calls out moving the hair out of her face.

"You." (Your Name) started to say and continued. "You are going to leave me behind."

He let out a big sigh and brings her body to him in a big embrace. Although he wanted to comfort her Kensei knew every word she said were true.

Initially Kensei didn't want to be in a relationship with anyone let alone a human but he fell in love and it was crashing downhill fast. Every word he wanted to say were lies because he wanted to make her feel better, but he knew it would only hurt her more.

They lived in two different worlds. She would die as he stayed behind.

"Don't worry, I'll always be watching over you."

Those words were not enough for her.

"Go to sleep, it's been a long day." Kensei continues as she stayed silent. He lightly placed her down and switched to big spoon as he caresses her body. "Just relax and sleep."

The next morning he was gone, probably back at the base with his other friends. (Your Name) just got ready for the day and walked down the streets of Karakura town.

At first (Your Name) didn't believe Kensei was actually a spirit, but one day as they walked back from a date a hollow appeared from behind them.

(Your Name) knew about the shinigami and how they killed hollows to bring peace to the city. Most of the time she ignored them though because people often called her crazy for seeing spirits ever since she was a kid. Never did she expect Kensei to be one of them.

Kensei didn't waste a second as he crushed the hollow in seconds. At that moment (Your Name) noticed that no one could see him.

Ever since that day she had doubts about their relationship. Often times she felt bad because it affected the way she would act towards Kensei. He didn't need that from her.

Kensei left early morning because Shinji needed all of them at base to help that orange hair teenager with his hollowfication.

Honestly he didn't even want to help but Kensei knew it would benefit for the war to come.

The war.

Kensei hated to admit it but he was feeling a bit uneasy for what was to come. He wanted a good fight though, it had been decades so he wouldn't be surprise if he was a bit rough on the edges.

Then his mind wandered off to (Your Name) he constantly thought what would happen if they helped the Soul Society, would they allow them to come back? What would happen to their relationship?

He knew in a realistic point of view that he would have to leave her. She deserved someone that would grow old and die with her.

After training with the orange hair kid he walked to (Your Name) work place at a elementary school. He could see her smiling and helping all the innocent children.

Children.

Something he would never get to experience with her as Kensei hands turns to fist. The world was cruel at the moment for him. If only she could be with him for as long as he lived for.

Spotting Kensei (Your Name) smile brightly and wave. After letting the last child home with the parents she rushed to give him a big hug. "I didn't think I'd see you today."

"I left without saying goodbye, of course I'd come back."

Packing her things they walk back together hand in hand. "How was your day then?"

Kensei wanted to say good but all he had were thoughts about the future. "Interesting." He replied shortly as she raises an eyebrow.

"How so?"

As much as Kensei wanted to keep her out of the war and fighting he eventually told her all about it.

"When the times come I will be going to fight. I don't know what will happen though."

There was silence between the two, Kensei knew there was tension about their relationship, but he tried to make her happy in every way so she wouldn't feel any doubts.

"I see, I'm not worried. I know you will come back." She smiles trying to bring some positivity.

It was a sleepless night for the two as they hungrily craved each other bodies. This night was different, the love making was more passionate and raw.

Kensei made it about her that night, pleasing each sensitive area till she was off edge and screaming his name.

He didn't know what came across him that night, but he felt like this was the last time they were going to be this close together.

"I love you." He whispered to her ear.

Those very words hurt to hear as she smiled to herself sadly.

"This is the first time you've ever said that to me." she says to him as he embarrassingly turned the other way.

"Shut up, I'm learning." He sheepishly says as a blush formed on his face.

There was a silence before she got curious and leaned onto her elbow for support. "Have you ever.... you know. Loved anyone before?"

Kensei shakes his head and looks up to the ceiling. "This is my first and it will be my last."

(Your Name) didn't know what that meant but she could tell he was speaking the truth.

"(Your Name) you know I will always do what's best for us and for you. Promise me one thing." He looks at her as she nods her head slowly for him to continue. "If I leave you won't be sad."

"What do you mean by that? Aren't you staying here?"

Kensei doesn't answer her question as he kisses her forehead. "Just expect the unexpected."

(Your Name) didn't know what happen but she felt like she was asleep for ages, when she woke up Kensei was on the bed in bandages. He was asleep so peacefully. A warm feeling began to bloom in her chest.

"He survived the war, that means he's staying." A smile spreading across her face as she kissed his soft lips. Kensei lightly stirred around as he pulled her closer to him out of habit.

"(Your Name)." He murmured in his sleep.

"Sleep, you look rough." (Your Name) whispers to him as she caresses his face.

"I can't if you're going to baby me like this." Kensei says with his eyes closed as he groans and sits up from bed. (Your Name) notices that he is bandaged on most parts of his body.

"Are you okay? How did everything go?"

He silently pulls her body to sit on his lap. She nervously swallows her saliva, usually when Kensei pulled her onto his lap, its usually bad news or when they were having sex.

"We won the war but with a heavy cost."

(Your Name) didn't know why but her heart was aching, she knew something bad was about to happen. Kensei wasn't smiling, he looked tired, stressed and a wreck.

"I'm going back." He announced to her, as easy as he said those words they were heavy to bare. Kensei knew it would hurt her, but it would save them from the heart break later on in the future.

"But I thought everything was good?" (Your Name) hesitantly says hugging herself out of the habit of feeling insecure.

"(Your Name) it not that, we have always been good it's just we live in totally different worlds. I don't want to watch you disappearing from my eyes every living day you have. I would stay the same and it would torture both of us... I have to take the position as captain again."

(Your Name) felt ashamed and selfish at the moment. She wanted to yell at him that he didn't love her, but she knew this day would come. Although she could see him as a spirit he'd be gone in a different place and as time passed by he would forget her.

"So what now? When do leave?"

"Tonight." The air had heavy tension.

She whined in pain, he was leaving so fast. Kensei pulled her in a tight embrace as he rubbed her back as she cried.

It wasn't the break up that hurt her, it was the thought that they were being separated and she wouldn't be able to see him for the rest of her life.

"If you leave tonight please do it when I'm asleep. I'm afraid I won't let you go if I'm awake."

Kensei could only chuckle, he felt bitter.

"I love you (Your Name)."

Laying on top of him she let the tears fall "I love you too."

The world was going the same pace but (Your Name) had a hard time adjusting, she wanted it to stop completely because she didn't feel whole anymore. Kensei left no trace of himself, which pained her. At least a t shirt would make her happy. She knew he probably left nothing to make things easier.

Her life began a new routine, going to work and coming home. She didn't have much friends, nothing helped her mind. All she thought about was Kensei. Wondering what they would be doing if he was here or what he would be cooking.

"Stop, you promised him not to be sad." (Your Name) says grabbing her head lightly as she took the sleeping pills she had prescribed to her.

Going to bed was the worse part of the day, her mind would wander off to unless thoughts. Many of them were unpleasant, so she relied on the pills to sleep. It helped so she wouldn't have to think.

Kensei didn't smile anymore, he was neither sad or angry. He understood that was how their life was. So many times he wanted to leave and go see her, so many times he had to stay up in bed lost in his thoughts. He didn't like the feeling of heart ache, he realized that's why people never fell in love in the first place. They don't want to be hurt.

It effected his work environment at first, his grumpiness and being easily irritated made the place have tension. Kensei was a grown man and once he felt that the 9th divison was not a good place to be at the moment he changed his ways for the better.

It wasn't till night time where he tortured himself, he stole all the pictures they took with each other from her house, he was no selfish man but just for these precious moments they had together he was.

Kensei would rather torture himself with their memories rather her because he wanted her to have a normal life in a normal relationship with a normal person.

He would often dream about her, it was a unless cycle. With special permission he left to the world of living to see her one last time to ease his mind.

Walking to her house he noticed the lights were off, knocking on the doors for a few times there was no answer. Getting irritated he was about to break the door open when the landlord appeared from behind him.

"May I help you sir?"

"Um yeah, I'm looking for (Your Name)."

"You didn't hear?"

"Hear about what?" Kensei asks his eyes lowering down in suspicion as the landlord sadly smiles.

"(Your Name) died 5 years ago in a car accident, a drunk driver hit her."

Kensei eyes widen, how long has he been gone? He felt like it was only a few months since he left. His world was crashing down on him. Leaving the place quickly he looked around Karakura town for her soul. She was nowhere to be found.

Kensei wanted to wreck something, he was angry, angry for not checking up on her and angry how someones life could easily be lost.

She had no grave, her ashes sent with her parents. He couldn't even see that. Kensei let his frustration out as he hit the wall causing it to break in pieces.

Realizing she wasn't here anymore he went back in loss. Her soul was somewhere out there.

Years passed by and if Kensei thought the first time he tortured himself was bad this time around it was worse. He overworked himself, slept constantly to bring the guilt away. He got irritated a lot and became more cut throat than he would like. Of course he felt bad for Shuhei and Mashiro but it didn't change that he fell into depression.

Never did he think he would fall into depression, it was different for him. Kensei stopped yelling at Mashiro at one point. Shinji and everyone was concerned for him, but he assured them that he would pass over it.

Kensei even searched the Ryugongai district in his free time to find her. The place was so huge he never had luck. "Where are you?"

(Your Name) woke up one day in a barren area, she was still the same as when she died. The memories and everything still in place when she was human. At first she didn't know where she was till it it her. She was dead.

A part of her was happy but at the same time she didn't know what to do. There came many times where she had to fend for her life. This place was definitely not the heaven that she imaged it to be.

Determined to find Kensei she joined the academy. (Your Name) worked hard endlessly night and day to train her body. She wanted to see him again but not as the weak human she used to be. So she decided she wouldn't see him till she was strong enough.

Poor Kensei tortured himself not knowing her intention and how she was right under his nose.

(Your Name) finally understood everything about the Soul Society, being a seated officer was nearly impossible, but it was the only way for her to be close to him. They were treated like celebrities so seeing Kensei was not going to be easy.

After years of endless training she was finally getting some recognition and was offered a seat as vice captain to the 13th squad under the command of Rukia Kuchiki.

They placed a small ceremony for the vice captains to welcome her, everyone was so accepting. Till she saw Mashiro the tears fell from her eyes as they embraced each other in a sisterly hug. "Kensei would be so happy to see you!" The green haired girl exclaimed.

"I know, you don't know how hard I worked to get here. It's been so many years. I thought you would have forgetten me too."

"Nonsense we have to go see Kensei!"

(Your Name) wanted to see him now, knowing how close she was to him. She grew impatient. A older man with scars on his face introduced himself. The similar 69 tattoo on his face as he wore a bright look in his eyes.

"You must be (Your Name), my captain has been looking for you." He warmly smiles knowing Kensei would be at peace now.

With the help of Mashiro and Shuhei they guided her to the barracks where Kensei back was facing her. She can hear him yelling at other seated officer about a mission that was not completed and how it was Mashiro fault for not taking the lead.

"MASHIRO! I TOLD YOU THEY NEEDED GUIDANCE! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ANYTHING ABOUT BEING A SUPER LIUTE-"

Kensei turned around to see a familiar face he yearned to see everyday, all the yelling got his throat dry. No words came out.

Stepping forward (Your Name) ran into his arms as he shockingly looked down at her. "(Your Name)." Kensei breathlessly says.

"You don't know how much I've missed you Kensei." She sinks into his chest the happy tears falling down.

His squad stood in awe at the sight, they never seen their captain so vulnerable.

A wave of emotion came crashing over him as he tightly held her, a few tears fell from his eyes. Only visible to her as she wiped them away.

"Stupid, why didn't you come see me?!"

"Because I wanted to be strong when I saw you!" She argued back as Shuhei and Mashiro stood next to them happy to see their captain in a brighter mood.

The 9th division and the Soul Society knew about Kensei having a human lover in past, they also knew he fell into the dark for a long time. So seeing him smiling made them feel at ease.

"Tch, so your the newbie Kuchiki appointed as her Lieutenant."

(Your Name) proudly shows her badge on her arm. "That's right! And this time I'm not leaving."

Kensei chuckles with a bitter sweet feeling. A part of him wanted to be upset that she was dead but another part is relieved to be with her again.

"Yeah, I'm not leaving either." His toothy smile brought shivers down her spine. It was something she hadn't seen for a long time.

"Looks like we got a lot to catch up on (Your Name)."

A big grin on her face as she leaned her cheek on his hand.

"Yeah, we do."

(Author Note: Kensei is bae!)

#Bleach #bleach one shots #bleach oneshot #bleach imagines #bleach x reader #kensei #kensei muguruma #bleach kensei #mashiro kuna #Shuhei Hisagi #Tite Kubo #KUBO TITE #muguruma kensei

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jiminwreckedme · 4 years

Text

The Beautiful Deception

Chapter 3

| Masterlist | Trailer | Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

Member - Bts OT7

Genre - Thriller, Mystery, Angst, (Smut)

Word count - 5K

Summary - When your ex-boyfriend’s wife goes missing, you are the only one who can help him find her. But in a world where everyone is a friend and everyone is a culprit, where lies are decorated with the best ornaments of facade, where everybody and nobody is right, how will you find out what happened to the woman he loves?

Without falling for him all over again?

Warnings - Mentions of blood and anger management issues.

Rating - NC17 for mature themes of the whole series.

23rd February 2017

As sleep begins to leave your company, you feel your eyes flutter open, the obscurity slowly fading away. There’s a bunch of tables and computers, people in blue uniforms working away on them, the sounds of typing overpowering the ever-present buzz of the printer. Letting out an inaudible sigh, you let your eyes shut once again.

This is your 5th day at the police station. For the last few days, you’ve been sitting on these very benches waiting with Yoongi for that officer, Jeon Jungkook. But even after five days, forget meeting him you didn’t so much as see him. His subordinates always gave some or the other reason for his unavailability. To you though, it always seemed like excuses. “Officer Jeon is attending a briefing in the town council.” “Officer Jeon has some more important cases to attend to.” “Officer Jeon only handles emergency cases on weekends.” Excuses. All excuses. It was almost as though he was purposely avoiding Yoongi, and two days ago when you unwittingly voiced your suspicion, Yoongi confirmed it for you.

“He probably is.”

“Why though?”

“Maybe he’s a man who holds a grudge.”

“Why do you think that….”

“Because he’s not always had pleasant experiences when it comes to me.”

“Why? What did you do Yoongi?”

“Something he clearly hasn’t forgotten yet.”

He didn’t tell you more than that and you didn’t ask either. Maybe because a part of you knew the root cause - Min Yoongi had the affinity to make enemies around town.

His poor anger management, his impulsiveness, his rashness, his overly agitated self, they were his closest companions and his biggest flaws. It was in his nature to rebel, to fight against everything that was thrown at him, without even pausing once to think if it was for the good or bad. As a result, fist fights, verbal provocation, acts of rebellion, they were all a part of his everyday life. If there was one thing you could change about Yoongi, it would have to be his need to confront everything without being afraid of the consequences his acts might have.

But you never once tried. You never stopped him. You never told him to change for you.

Because you knew what made him like that. You knew how broken he was on the inside and how he constantly guarded those shattered pieces, refusing to let them break anymore. You knew he hurt everyone around him first so they didn’t have a chance to do the same to him. Yoongi wasn’t an angry man, he was a broken one.

Asking him to not fight was not the solution. Asking him to control himself was not the answer. What Yoongi truly needed was to be set free from his pain, he needed to heal from the inside, he needed to be loved. So that’s what you did. You tried to love him so much, there was no room for his bitterness anymore. You held his hand every time they shook in fear. You looked into his eyes with answers every time he was lost. You nursed his wounds, helped him walk when he was limping and let him lean against you when he needed to. You always stood by Yoongi’s side.

Over time though, Yoongi started holding himself back. A man who punched people without a second thought stopped himself after balling his fists. A man who could barely control his sharp tongue before those who provoked him, learned to keep quiet. Not because you managed to heal him, no, if only getting rid of such a deeply rooted misery was that easy. But he held himself back because no matter how brave you pretended to be and no matter how hard you tried to hide it, Yoongi saw how you silently cried when you attempted to cure his wounds. When he realized how much his pain saddened you, he stopped letting himself get hurt and like most things between the two of you, words didn’t have to be exchanged for him to understand your plight and you to understand his reasons. He just knew and you just knew.

We were so good together Yoongi. Why did this happen to us?

And now he was married, something he swore never to do because…. because that was the source of all the thorns that pricked him - The failed marriage of his parents. He refused to let that be his fate, refused to ever let himself be bind to another in that relationship. Yet now he sits next to you, with a ring on his finger, searching for his wife, the woman who healed him and made him believe in the institution of marriage, something you couldn’t do for years. She healed him in ways you failed to and that didn’t hurt you as much as one might think it would. Maybe because the fact that Yoongi’s suffering had lessened was enough for you, it didn’t matter how and why that happened.

What hurt was that all her efforts were reversing now, Min Yoongi was becoming a man of his past once more.

You saw it that day.

You saw what her absence did to him, you saw what her memories made him turn into.

21st February 2017

You’re standing at the edge of the backyard watching the sun set behind the Min Manor, the golden colours adding to its glory.

The Min Manor was one of the biggest and oldest estates in the city and for decades. Their lineage was known for showing off its affluent lifestyle particularly through its outrageously extravagant holiday parties, celebrations that made their balance sheets run in negatives. It’s carefully thought out themes were unmatched, the unnecessarily expensive decor bulged eyeballs, the much more than needed food could possibly feed half the city and the performances displayed were absolutely unbelievable so it was no wonder that they were the talk of the town for days. Not just the Elite families, even the common man who was not fortunate enough to attend it would desperately wait for the Min Manor to house its festivities. To simply put it, the Min family was pretty much the Gatsby of South Korea.

All up until about 10 years ago.

10 years ago, for a reason that was never revealed to the world, the Min Manor suddenly stopped housing its insane events, causing an uproar in the community. The press had stationed themselves before the manor, demanding for answers, the public who already spoke about them excessively, began discussing about them even more and the high-end families suddenly didn't know what to do with their weekends anymore. Over time, as the Min family started completely disappearing from every possible social circle, papers and magazines that wouldn’t sell without their names in it, slowly forgot about them. Conversations that took place around their lives ceased to occur. No one looked out for them, waited for them or even remembered them anymore. It was like society had wiped out their existence.

But one thing that didn’t change to this date is the grandeur they always had, and the Min Manor, which stood just as regally as it did for generations now.

While its affluence till date continued to tempt everyone, the only person it couldn’t impress was Min Yoongi.

You turn around, ignoring the sky’s low rumble, looking at what you had discovered during your solitary walk around the estate. Yoongi’s campervan. The tiny place he lived abandoning all the riches and luxury of his family. The space that was not just personal to him but to you as well. There were countless afternoons the two of you just laid down on the bed under the window, limbs tangled under the sheets, your laughter the only sound in that small space. There were so many hours when you sat watching him work on his music, so many take-aways you shared with him, so many books he kept stacking because you loved to read them. The name you painted at the side of his camper is still there. And your handprint next to it, the one that you accidently left in an attempt to balance yourself as you got out of Yoongi’s lap where you had positioned yourself comfortably to do this little project of yours.

As the sky darkens, a flash of lightning illuminates everything, letting you see more the details of the state it was in today - shambles. The white painted metal was corroding to a brown colour, shades of green splashed across it as creepers and moss, dust had settled on the surface, hiding the beautiful caravan under it.

Yoongi loved this more than his life. The thought that he would leave something so precious to him in such a sorry state puzzles you but then again, Yoongi had let go a lot of things he had once claimed were cherished.

He left me.

The sky starts to drizzle its contents ever so slowly, but you don’t mind it, watching the water wash away the dirt in little rivets. You don’t bother even when it gets a little heavier, forming puddles around you. You don’t care until all of sudden like an overturned bucket, the sky begins dumping its contents relentlessly, making you finally shield your head with your arms and rush across the uneven terrain back into the house. Just as you hurry back in, your head hits against something hard making you bite back a scream of pain. Yoongi stands right across you, rubbing his forehead fast, much like you were.

While you are busy balancing the act of wincing in pain, shivering and finding the ability stop your teeth from chattering to apologize, Yoongi presses an intercom like device on the wall beside you.

“Grace, get two towels and a glass of hot water to the back entrance please.”

“I’m sorry.” You finally say, pointing at his forehead. “I didn’t see you…”

“It’s alright.” He stuffs his hands in his pocket. He’s wearing his signature all black attire.

“Are you…are you going out? In this rain.”

You carefully avoid adding the word ‘again’.

Over the last two days as you stood by the window of your room unsuccessfully battling your jet lag, you watched Yoongi leave as the sun sets only to return at the crack of dawn. Where he spent his nights, you had no idea. Why he spent them out of the house, you had no idea. Whatever the reason was, could it be important enough for him to go even in such a downpour?

“Yes, but its fine.” He stares at the heavy rain which obscured just about everything in sight. “I like getting wet in the rain anyways.”

Because of you.

“Yoongi.” You stand by the window, palm flat on the glass, feeling the coldness but aching to feel the waters. “Let’s go out in the rain-”

“No thanks.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Yoongi.” You drag your words hoping it will affect him.

“If you want to so badly, then you go.”

“I don’t want to leave you alone.”

As you look at him over your shoulder Yoongi finally looks up from his notepad, a corner of his mouth pulled into a soft smile.

“Is that a yes?”

“No.” He walks up to you, sliding the glass pane. “I won’t go to the rain, but,” He sticks his hand out and you already know what he’s going to do. “I can bring the rain to you.” And just as you thought, he flicks the water in his hand at your face, even before you had the time to shield yourself with your hands.

“Yoongi!”

He laughs, taking quick steps away from you, thwarting two out of your three attempts of a mirrored attack.

“Don’t, you’ll wet the floor.” He wipes his face against the material of his shirt on his shoulder. “The rest of the band won’t be very happy with the mess.”

You stick your tongue out at him, splashing him once more, unbothered. Like the rest of the band would even say a word to you in front of Yoongi. Or even behind his back.

“Y/n, stop it-” He ducks, once, then twice, but you continue relentlessly anyways, laughing at his plight, till he suddenly walks up to you, grabbing you by the wrist. “I said, stop it.”

“Make me.” You smirk, holding him by the collar, pulling him closer.

“Hmm.” He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you even closer. “Let’s get you busy with something else then shall we?”

Your laugh melts into his kiss, as he leaves your hand and rests it below your cheek instead, your breaths mingling, hearts hammering against each other’s chest.

Breaking free just once, you whisper against his lips, “Sorry not sorry.” and tug him by his shirt, leaning back, out of the window and letting the rain drizzle over your entwined figures. Yoongi groans into your mouth but he doesn’t stop, the heat in your cheeks rising till the waters didn’t feel cold anymore.

“You don’t,” He sneaks in a small peck, grinning at you, the rain water dripping from the ends of his hair. “You don’t seem to hate the rain now.”

“Like this.” He kisses a cheek. “With you.” Then the other. “I don’t.”

You laugh again, like you always do with him, as he presses his lips onto yours once more.

From that day on, Yoongi was always by your side in the rain. Because he meant it. Yoongi had fallen in love with the rain because of you.

And even now, after so long, he still loved it.

The thought makes your heart ache in a strange way.

Why do you no longer walk together in the rain Yoongi?

“Oh dear sweetie, you’re all wet!” Grace, the sweet househelper who rushes to your every beck and call, waddles up to you, balancing a glass of steaming water in her hand and towels in the other, just like Yoongi asked. You take a towel from her, patting yourself dry as Yoongi gives her a hand with the glass, letting her tiptoe and rub the towel vigorously against your hair. “You’re going to catch a cold at this rate Y/n!”

You wince as the short woman gives up on her tiptoes to reach you and instead pulls you down, relentlessly continuing her attempts to dry you. The act almost makes Yoongi smile as he looks away.

“All your clothes are soaking wet! We need to change you out of them as soon as possible.” She grabs your arm with determination and almost pulls you along with her before a realization hits her, making her stop her tracks and blink fast. “I just put all your night clothes in the laundry though.”

“Oh -”

“This is a house of men moreover, there’s no decent clothing to even offer you….maybe Mrs. Min had some?”

The very thought of borrowing Yoongi’s wife’s belongings unexplainably disturbs you. You don’t want it. You don’t want anything that belongs to her. But before you can politely decline her offer, Yoongi speaks instead.

“Grace.” The hardness in his voice shocks you, making you turn to him. There’s not even a small trace of earlier humor in them, anger flashing instead. The same anger that you always feared would destroy him. “Know your limits.”

“I’m so sorry Sir.” She rambles fast, hiding her fear. “but she didn’t have-“

“Yoongi!” You instinctively cover your mouth in shock as the glass in his hand cracks with the pressure he’s exerting on it, the shards piercing through his skin, letting the crimson flow out. As Grace stands frozen, her face pale, her position rooted, you extend your hand to help him but he pulls back, letting the pieces drenched in his blood fall to the floor.

“Know. Your. Limits.” He growls, threat clear in his voice before he turns and leaves, figure getting smaller and smaller in the downpour, the trail of red seeping into the mud behind him the only visible thing.

24th February 2017 – present day.

That anger in Yoongi’s eyes, it didn’t allow you to sleep for nights. It bothered you over and over again, head hurting every time you thought about his condition. His whole world had collapsed. Yoongi must really love his wife.

You see it in his eyes, in the way he pines for her, in the way he’s lost, oscillating between bouts of extreme reactions – sometimes resorting to adverse reactions like that night, creating wounds that were still fresh in his palm and sometimes absolutely silent like he was every minute he spent in the station, tolerating all the injustice done to him. As you sat day after day in the police station watching how cases like a woman’s missing cat and small boy returning a lost dollar got more attention than his wife who was missing for 10 months now, you wondered how he didn’t react one bit, not with anger, not with disappointment, just sitting, stoic as ever.

It was one thing that Yoongi barely spoke in the first place but the when the topic was about his wife, he was more silent than usual. For a man who loved his wife to the extent where he was possessive about her simple materialistic belongings, for whom he was willing to reach out to his ex-girlfriend he had abandoned, for whom he spent over 10 months scouring despite being discouraged by everyone around him, Yoongi never once willingly spoke about his wife. Initially you thought it was because he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable but as time passed you realized it was more than that.

Sometimes it felt like the situation never favored the conversation and sometimes it felt Yoongi just didn’t want to talk about her. You are yet to find out which of these is the true answer.

19th February 2017

“I saw your family portraits.”

As you sit side by side with considerable gap between the both of you in the cab, you recollect your walk in the halls of the manor the previous night, when you came across something you had only heard Yoongi talk about it the past. Family portraits of the Min family, one for every year, taken every Christmas eve. As you walked from one end of the room to the other, keenly looking at each progressing picture, you noticed how as Yoongi grows older, his gummy smile shrinks smaller and smaller and smaller…. till the moment another woman sits in the place that should rightfully be his mother’s.

Then his smile completely vanishes.

“She wasn’t in any of them.”

If Yoongi got married two years ago, it was only logical to expect at least a photo or two of his wife but surprisingly the series of photos stops right before the year you deduce Yoongi got hitched.

“We stopped taking pictures after my father died.” He answers, still staring outside the window.

You want to believe him but a part of you had to admit that something didn’t add up. Because right after the last photo, lodged in the wall were two more nails that stood empty. It didn’t seem like the photos were not taken, it felt more like....the photos were taken down.

But just as you bring yourself to ask the question, Yoongi lowers the window, the sound of the wind drowning your question.

20th February 2017

“What’s her name?”

You poke the piece of meat on your plate, casually making conversation. With passing days Yoongi and you spoke more than a few lines over dinner.

“November.”

His answer surprises you. “H-her name is November?”

“Yeah,” He’s still staring at his food. “Everyone calls her Nona, I call her Nobi.”

“Nobi? Like Hobi?”

Shit.

You regret the question the moment it slips from your mouth, avoiding his eye, hoping he did not hear it.

“Yeah, Nobi, like Hobi.”

Why would you ask him that Y/n, why did you take his name?

“Hoseok’s fine, if that’s what you are thinking.” Yoongi drags his spoon through the potatoes. “He’s been out of town for a while now. He should be back in a few days.”

You swallow nothing uncertainly “Does he….”

“Still live here?” He nods. “He does. This is his house after all.”

“And you both?” You choose your words cautiously. “You’re….okay?”

“We have to be. No matter how much both of us try to deny it, end of the day,” He looks up at you with a sad smile. “We are brothers.”

“If she sheds even a tear because of you, Min Yoongi, I will come for your life.” Hoseok stands across you for the last time as Yoongi’s hand tightens around yours. “This, I promise you.”

After that you eat in silence, this time, letting the questions and answers drown in the quietness.

24th February 2017 – present day

The past half week you were constantly given half answers like this. The very Yoongi who answered even your unasked questions, for some reason had nothing much to say when you genuinely voiced your doubts. When he asked you to trust him with the bare little he told you, you were willing to, every bit of you was willing to. Because you knew him better than anyone. You knew the pain in his eyes was as raw and real as it could get.

But as days passed and the more you got involved, there was one thing you realized. Some things about Yoongi did not seem…..normal. It seemed like he was the same man and not at the same time. Just as you felt you knew him, the very next moment he turned unfamiliar. Certain things he did and said confused you more than you could explain. You didn’t expect him to give you answers and reasons for all his actions and decisions because you knew it was not in your place to ask him such questions anymore. That, though, did not stop you from silently wondering if Yoongi was not telling you the entire truth or worse………

He might have been lying all this while.

22nd February 2020

You’ve been thinking a lot these days. Sometimes lost in the memories of the past, sometimes lost in the orchestration of the future. You don’t know which exactly you were lost in when you stepped into the darkness of the West Wing. You are about half way down the corridor when you realize that you’re right in the middle of the one place you aren’t supposed to be at.

A strange feeling grips you, almost paralyzing your feet, not letting you take a step back or a step forward. Instead, a war erupts in your mind, a battle between your curiosity and fear. The curiosity to know why exactly no one was supposed to come here and the fear of finding out that reason. The reason that no one knew. The reason you had been wanting to know since the night you came here.

“I have no idea, Miss Y/n.”

“Just Y/n please.”

Grace gives a motherly smile before resuming her disapproving look in response to your question. Why is it that corridor so dark?

“When I joined a few months ago, I was told no one is allowed to step in there. Not to clean, not out of curiosity, never. Not for about a year now. According to the other staff, anyone who trespassed that area was immediately fired. After knowing that, I didn’t dare try to find out, I really need this job.”

Were her hands shaking?

“I am to take the responsibility of looking after you so please Y/n, don’t ever go there. I can’t imagine what master will do to me if he finds out.”

There’s so much fear in her eyes.

“I won’t.” You promise.

But here you are, though unknowingly, you still had broken that promise. And that’s what makes the decision for you.

Your fright, your inquisitiveness, none of that mattered. You didn’t want the consequences of your actions to hurt Grace. You had become way too attached to her and her little, parent-less, grand children who often ran around the backyard, your only source of comfort in this emptiness. You couldn’t imagine uprooting their whole lives because of one selfish decision.

So, you turn around.

Even though you want to know why Yoongi was so particular about sealing off this place, why these shadows were so carefully guarded and what was being hidden here, you subdue it all and walk out, into the otherwise well-lit house.

Or at least you wish you did.

Because as you walk towards your room, you can feel your breath hitching, your pace quickening, stomach turning in the most uncomfortable way. The moment you reach your room you shut the door behind you, back against it, chest heaving. As you look at the woman in the mirror before you, she’s shivering.

Because you saw something.

You should be feeling shame, that despite convincing yourself to walk away and not feed your inquisitiveness, you did stop for a brief second, just one second.

Instead you are afraid.

Because even though a second is not long, it was enough to look past the half open door and right into the room you had stopped your tracks next to. Yoongi’s room.

You didn’t want to admit it to even yourself but maybe, just maybe you had found out why the West wing was forbidden.

24th February 2017 – present day

Your eyes fly open when the scene that you are trying not to remember flashes before your eyes.

You can feel the pain in your neck as you roll it back, stretching the muscle.

“Awake?”

You freeze hearing his voice, realizing from his proximity and your position that all this while you had been fast asleep on his shoulder.

“Sorry.” You quickly straighten yourself and scoot to the side.

“I keep telling you to stay at home, at least till your jet lag gets better.”

“It’s alright.” You insist. “I….I need water.”

And to get away from you.

You get up before he even has the chance to nod in response and make your away across the station, heart beating fast in your rib-cage. Holding the paper cup under the tap you watch it fill up with water, refusing for the hundredth time today to remember the details of that room.

The unaddressed chaos. Broken glass on the floor, wilted flowers petals flying around, pillows torn up everywhere, sheets haphazard.

You quickly gulp the water as though it will wash down the memory the scene, instead you remember the details much better.

There were red stains on the carpet, about three to four blotches, right beside the stained glass.

Blood.

It was blood.

Someone got injured the day this happened.

“11th April 2016.”

You whisper under your breath, recalling once more, the date on the tear off calendar by the bed.

That date…. The date Yoongi mentioned his wife disappeared. He said they argued the day she left the house. If the West Wing had been uninhabited for about a year now, was that mess a result of that argument? Did it spiral into some kind of fight?

Though Yoongi said it was a trivial matter.

Or was he not telling the truth about what happened that night?

“Look at him, he has the face of a liar.”

Your ears perk, catching the sound of a conversation on the nearby desk.

“Cut him some slack, the man’s looking for his lost wife.”

“By publicly getting cosy with his ex-girlfriend?”

“Ex-girlfriend?”

“Mhmm, that one there.” Without looking, you guess the owner of the voice is pointing at your back. “I heard she was his plaything back in his college days.” Plaything? You feel your fists ball in anger. “He left her because she wanted more.”

“Christ, and she’s here despite all that?” A mocking laughter. “What is it for, the money?”

Money? Before your family’s net worth, the Mins were as good as beggars.

“That or she’s a cock hungry bitch. A perfect match, if you ask me, because that Min Yoongi is no less than a dog. The man’s an absolute animal. Do you how many times he was in the custody of this very police station for physical assault and public brawls? Men like him don’t know how to love.”

Men like him don’t know how to love?

“For all we know he might have been the one who did away with his wife-”

You’ve heard enough.

Turning around, you walk up to the two officers, slamming your hand on the table, looking at them straight in the eye.

“Get up.”

They blink at you stupidly, fueling your annoyance, making you snarl. “I said get. Up.”

You cross your arms as the two men unwillingly stand, slight fear decorating their faces.

“The last time I checked this was a police station, not the court of law. I’m sorry I have to teach you your job but it’s not to sit there and pass judgments, it’s to ensure that the city and the lives of its residents are problem free.”

It gets more and more silent as all eyes turn towards you.

“Obviously, you’ve already failed at that because there’s a woman missing for about a year now and your department hasn’t done crap to find her. I’ve been watching what’s going on and what kind of cases are getting the priority. A woman lost her cat? that’s what’s important? Are you fucki-” You stop yourself, reminding yourself of your limits. “-bloody kidding me?”

You can see Yoongi approaching you from the corner of your eye and force yourself to calm down. You didn’t need him getting involved in this.

“Instead of sitting there and discussing such worthless, irrelevant issues, go and get your officer.” You lower your voice, making the threat in it clear. “Don’t make the mistake of taking my silence or compliance as a weakness. Because I swear, if your officer doesn’t stand before me within five minutes, mark my words, I will do whatever it takes to make sure this police station disappears from the map of Seoul. Am I clear?

“Fierce.”

You turn around at the voice to a man leaning against the door of a cabin. Jeon Jungkook, his badge reads. So this is the asshole. “I didn’t take you to be such a woman.”

“Officer Jeon.” You feel Yoongi right behind you. “I’ve been-”

“Min Yoongi.” His voice sounds like it disgusts him to take his name. “I told you, I told you a hundred times now, don’t come to me till you’ve got your documents.”

“It’s not that easy Jungkook, I’ve been trying for so long-”

“Try harder.” He shrugs. “In fact you should be trying there, not here. With me, you’re just wasting time.” And with that he walks away, leaving you in utter confusion.

What documents? Why didn’t Yoongi mention he needed those to meet Jungkook? Why did you waste five days in the police station without them when as Jungkook said, you should have been trying for them?

You turn to Yoongi but he’s looking elsewhere, the same pained expression on this face. The expression that tells you that once again you are going to get half answers. You didn’t want them anymore.

“Stop.”

You walk up to Jungkook who surprisingly obeys and halts, turning around.

“What documents are you talking about?”

His eyebrows raise and he leans to the side, looking at Yoongi over your shoulder.

“Eyes here.” You snap your fingers, getting his attention. “I’m the one standing before you, so look at me and answer me. You have no reason to look there.”

He purses his lips, almost as though he liked your guts. “And who are you?”

“Y/n.”

“And what relationship do you share with Min Yoongi?”

“I don’t see how it concerns you.”

“You are standing here, talking for him.” Jungkook cocks his head to the side. “I am required to know who you are.”

You take longer than it should to answer.

“A friend.”

“Is that right? Then how is it that I haven’t seen you coming to his rescue in the last one year?”

You swallow, unnecessarily clearing your throat.

“W-we knew each other in college and…...we lost contact after that.”

“When did you get back in contact?” You sigh, ready to fire at him for his meaningless questions but Jungkook doesn’t give you the chance. “I need answers if you want answers Ms.Y/n.”

You stare him down. “About a week ago.”

“And where do you stay?”

“In the Min Manor, as a guest.”

“I see” Jungkook nods his head slowly, sitting down on the table behind, dangling his leg. “So you’re not really close friends yet you stay in his house. You haven’t met each other in years yet he reaches out to you a week ago and you’re here, willing to pick a fight with the representatives of the law- don’t roll your eyes at me Ms.Y/n, the things you’ve told me don’t add up, I feel like there’s something else about the two of you that you’re not telling me.”

“I’ve told you what you need to know,” You speak between gritted teeth. Why did people care about the relationship you share with Yoongi? “Beyond that is unnecessary and irrelevant.”

“Ok, then let’s talk about relevant things, shall we?” He crosses his arm, finally meaning business. “What did he tell you Ms.Y/n, to make you stand here before me? To help him? To trust him? But let me ask you Ms.Y/n,” Your lips part in shock as Jungkook asks you the one question you refused to ask yourself. “What makes you think you can trust him?”

#btswriterscollective #btsguild #btsbokclub #bangtanarmynet #yoongi angst #yoongi thriller #yoongi mystery #bts ot7 angst #bts ot7 thriller #bts ot7 mystery #bts ot7 #Yoongi x reader #bts x reader

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whisperthatruns · 3 years

Text

Air Rights

The French Church--- never much on looks, red brick leaning in the direction of Romanesque---

settled into modest circumstances how many decades on West 16th? Nothing divine in the details,

veneer peeling from doors never meant for here, never open. No light, evenings, through colored glass,

though by day you could discern, twenty feet above the sidewalk, Christ stepping onto the waters of Galilee,

sea and savior oiled by exhaust, nearly indistinguishable. Weeknights, downstairs, a dozen groups renounced

at length crystal or alcohol, skin or smoke, and what each circle resisted glowed at the center of their ring of chairs,

nearly visible; there you could consecrate relinquishment, or find someone already ruined to pursue whatever made you, for the night,

unsinkable. The rent, collected each time they passed the hat, kept the church afloat. Of the congregation eight souls remained,

Haitian evangelicals. Only once I saw someone mount the stairs toward those slapdash doors

---who could have missed her? Under a plane tree clearly considering giving up all ambition, an idling towncar’s

rear door opened, she stepped out, and I knew at once that if she’d ever been thwarted, she simply summoned

more of some alloy of metal and will she drew up from beneath the pavement, maybe from Haiti itself, from generations

that stood unbending in her. In her green hat, in the forgiving archways of her dress, her capacious black purse,

she conquered the stairs, and raised her hand to open the door. Just once. The meeting schedule disappeared

from the basement entry’s wire-gridded glass, the rooms stayed dark, addicts no longer smoking and talking under the miserable tree.

Twilights, before they were gone, I’d walk through a climate so thick I could almost taste it, meet the gaze of men whose eyes locked

into mine. Was this the night they knew was coming, the night they’d fall? I recognized them, I wanted

to put my hand into the wound at their sides, that we might be real to one another. A barrier went up

around the entry, papered with signs and permits, and an ‘artist’s rendering’ ---fourteen stories clad in bluestone,

suspended above the somehow freshened brick of the church. A flyer in our vestibule said they’d sold

the space between their sanctuary and heaven for a cool eight million, and units in what would be

the highest stepped-back Nineveh tower on our block: raise the faithful high, plunge the neighbors into shadow.

Lord thou preparest a banquet for me... Workers boxed the plane tree’s trunk in a cage of 2 x 4s, heavy equipment scooped

a new foundation, hammered the pilings in. How do they stand it, in Cairo or Rome, when any shaft in sand reaches down

five thousand years? Bad enough in New York: artifacts of quarantine and revolt, bullets that did or didn’t strike rioters,

squatters or immigrants, Irish or black. Cemetery slabs etched with the hex of David’s star. Oyster middens,

pipe-stems, crockery stamped with eagles and shields. And in the Historical Society, dug from a site like this one,

an object I can’t forget, nightmare thing, its plutonium half-life still ticking: brass shackles,

superbly made, locked into place by a brass bar, sized to fit the wrists of a child.

That sign the angel placed outside of Eden, forbidding re-entry? No arrow, but these joined zeroes

fetched up out of the mud, their poison seeping into the groundwater. The backhoe clawed,

rebar spiked its way up, and some days traffic stopped while the concrete mixer’s rotating drum poured into place more

of the solid substance of our block. The city stopped work more than once. I saw, where they’d poured the footing

a little short, workers float a three-inch layer along the top of the foundation: sure to crack, maybe one day bring the whole thing down?

Though walking home, after hours, late winter, I found towering at midnight’s center a vertical representation of heaven,

nine episodes of the exaltations of light: builders’ lamps diffused by silver ceiling joists, filtered through layers of tarps,

an unfinished model of the spirit’s progress, a pilgrim ladder. Where did it lead? Each story occupied a rectangle

of what once was formless, unglazed windows opening on a flecked and spattered galactic swirl...

Up there above the streets, might not desire be articulated, spoken till seen through?

Half-finished, swathed in black netting, translucent scrims veiling the lights left burning within, that building

would never be so beautiful again. Thank you, Haitian evangelicals, for that. Now the Bradford pears open

dusty blooms against a scaffolding crowning the new Barney’s down the block, and black girders sketch out more floors

above a French Church caged in spars of steel, wave-walking Jesus shadowed by the bristling supports

of a terrace just above. Do the faithful look up toward a future in a world of light, more square feet? More power to them;

who doesn’t want a privacy to fill with memory or anticipation, room for the self to billow out in dreaming?

The shadow pooling the street’s grown cooler, gained in depth. Sometimes I walk a city block and notice everyone’s

looking at a screen, or talking to someone who’s somewhere else, so that here seems to thin out, dispersed and characterless.

I miss the addicts. I’ve done time in that school of longing and resistance, a sometime citizen of the knot

I threaded nights on my way to anywhere, under what the builders have chopped to a lame, broken arm of a tree.

Nearly everything we said beneath it concerned our endless desires, the thing that doth shine and so torment us,

our coins passed from hand to hand until their inscriptions all but wore away. Those old longings---at least we said them

to each other. We are of interest to one another, are we not? The evangelical woman, in her superb hat, will she look down

from that glassy paradise and find me of interest, or the men and women who unroll blankets over flattened cardboard

under Barney’s stainless awning, its steel-cloud sheen? They sleep and dream before a chamber gleaming with refusal

all night, inviting no one in, sealed plate glass displaying ---ready?---necklaces, shown on featureless,

streamlined busts, under relentless halogen, to foreground shine. Ten feet away, tulips fenced in iron spear-tips wrap

wings around their furnace flames, heat drawn up from the center of the earth; a strength never bridled yet,

even the mutilated tree aura’d in a froth of green. No intention to quit, none whatsoever.

The new tower’s blank surface offers fewer chances to engage, an old church’s ramshackle intimacy

shrinks beneath what we all see coming: a seamless façade interested only in itself, dwarfing the red brick it doesn’t crush

because---why should it? The air rights are for sale. Fit yourself around whatever it is you want, pay them some fraction

---enormous, in their eyes, but nothing to the unreal numbers you’ll accrue; build, and keep on display what you

swallowed to erect this chilly Babel tower on my block. I’m all judgment, I know; the Congregation won’t regret the sale

of light and air, and those who sleep on Seventh Avenue, their midnights raked by precious glitter

---on the space between their skulls and the empyrean, no one puts a price. The new tower’s a glacial expanse.

The tulips ember in their spiky bed. We dwell down here in shadow and in spring.

Mark Doty, The American Poetry Review (Vol. 49/No. 6, November/December 2020)

#mark doty #air rights #poetry

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doobler · 4 years

Photo

Noteworthy locations: The Totum Continent

Yarely Capitol -The capital of human life, closed in by massive stone walls. Visitors have to pass through multiple checkpoints in order to enter. Magic is strictly prohibited (though found in the sleazier underbelly of the city) and magicfolk are often seen as lower class or even invaders. This is Brittney’s home city.

Castellia City - A melting pot of many cultures and a constant point of attack for malevolent magical forces. Riker’s smithy acts as a point of constant foot traffic here.

The Heart - Totum’s epicenter of magical energies. It’s rumored ancient gods and otherworldy beings slumber here. When banished, this is where Orthos arrived and where Zaith was found as an abandoned baby.

Konasan - Meaning “three corners”, it houses an interesting array of flora and fauna. With cold mountains to the north, grassy hills to the north east, and plains to the south, its a rather untouched little paradise. Guarding it for centuries is Bonsho Shrine, a place for spiritual enlightenment and exorisms. This is Umeko’s home town.

Shefsha’ah - A far off desert outpost that spreads to the sea, it’s very rarely visited by travellers. Those who can make it through the insufferable heat and blistering sandstorms can find a tropical oasis waiting for them. The locals love visitors and will most definitely attempt to sell you every last trinket and morsel of food that they’ve got, all in good tidings of course.

??? - Very few attempt to cross the barrier into this godforsaken penninsula. The air is acrid and sour, the soil hard and dead. What grows here is foul and the locals are, to put it mildly, unfriendly. Those who do wander into this wasteland either never come back or swear to never retell the events that they witnessed. Some say, if you can see this land on the horizon at dusk, you can hear cruel whispers in your ears and a fist will close around your lungs.

Witches’ Bog - Where Centrium Forest is a hub of mostly positive magic, the bog has more menacing undertones. The water is a sickly purplish color, the air reeks, and mysterious wildlife lurk in the shadows. If you survive the natural trials, you may find the Witches’ Hut, home to a coven of hags and sorceresses. They’ve been rumored to steal babies, hex travelers, drink the blood of virgins, and perform bizarre and disturbing rituals. Zaith grew up here.

Assassin’s Guild - High on mountain crags, in the deep coldy terrain, lies a veritable fortress. Here, generations of stolen children are trained to become deadly killers, all for the sake of keeping their masters rich. Many try to escape, either in their youth or adolescence. Very few get out alive. Once made into living weapons, these assassins are sent out into the world to kill for hire. It’s a cruel and terrible process that doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. Bayern spent the first half of his life here.

Bloodlurch Estate - Count Santiago Bloodlurch and his nymph wife Idesia tilled this land by hand for decades, cultivating a truly beautiful piece of farmland for all to enjoy. Many small hamlets housing every variety of life sprung up nearby, their own crops saturated with positive magical energies. After their deaths, the estate was left to rot when their only child mysteriously disappeared. It still stands as a haven for nature and many farmers visit the land to pray for good fortune. This is where Chrys was born and raised.

Aecor Vista - A testament to human ingenuity, this gorgeous coast side city boasts a beautiful seaside view paired with whimsical architecture and exquisite cuisine. Most of the continent’s seafood is exported from this city alone and it’s a proud and constant tourist destination. Many affluent members of any society will come to showcase their wealth with lavish meals and textile commissions. This is Bayern’s birthplace.

#hunk squad #map #totum continent #dooble #EEEEE

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excellentabraham · 4 years

Text

Why East Asians Were Sporting Masks Long Before COVID-19

My folks told Maine it completely and totally was to stay myself et al safe, she told Abraham. I would see others wear masks more than that, especially throughout the winter seasons.

As the coronavirus, widespread disease’s toll rises. Here’s what Americans will learn from countries like China, Japan, and South Korea about the standard mask. COVID-19 growing up in South Korea, Jamie Cho knew from childhood. What if she got sick, she had to place a mask on, although it absolutely was simply a standard cold.

The masks weren’t simply a medical accent, she said. For many, they served a business partner beauty-related purpose. One thing a lady would possibly place on to hide a makeup-less face. Whereas running errands or a K-Pop star would possibly wear to avoid being noticed by fans in connect airdrome.

Cho clearly remembers that once her family emotional to the big apple. Her mother told her that she had to prevent sporting masks publicly. As a result of people would assume she was unwell or would check up on her funny.

She was afraid of Maine’s seen more foreign. Then I already was at the time as a young traveling worker, the school student the same. Because of that, I’ve never worn a mask during a Western country before COVID-19

Hiding up is use to East Asian people like Cho. however, others haven’t taken this way simply to the U.S. Centers for sickness management and Prevention’s recommendation to wear a facial covering. The rules have incited a nationwide fight concerning public health and civil liberties.

A few Americans won’t wear covers, asserting its in opposition to their individual flexibility. The foremost strident within the anti-mask movement have known as them “unconstitutional,” autocratic” and “muzzles.”

Meanwhile, in East Asian countries. The bulk of the general public tailor quickly to mask-wearing. One thing specialists believe has contributed to lower COVID-19 death rates.

Naturally, there’s additional to the story than masks. Compared to the West, East Asian countries tend to possess a lot of lower rates of fat. A number one risk issue for serious COVID-19 cases.

Preliminary studies have additionally instructed. That East Asians might have designed up associate immunity to the virus given. The history of coronaviruses rising in East Asia.

But in light-weight of overwhelming proof supporting the efficaciousness of facial coverings. It’s most likely honest to mention the masks helped, too.

Because of the custom of sporting masks here. It wasn’t necessary for the govt to mandate mask sporting for a protracted time. As a result of the general public had already wide adopted their use, same Ria Sinha. A senior analysis fellow in the middle for the Humanities and drugs at the University of the port. (Sinha is presently leading a COVID-19 archive project.)

Just as the anti-mask movement in America goes back to the 1918-19 contagion pandemic. (yep, there have been protests over government ordinances then, too) Thus will the East Asian inclination to wear a mask.

In those pandemic years, mask-wearing was wide promote in Western nations and solely then export to Japan.

It stayed in Japan, however it disappeared within the West, same Mitsutoshi Horii. A faculty member of social science at the University of Shumei in Japan. Who’s presently performing at its overseas field at poet faculty in European nation.

In Japan, then and currently, individuals square measure usually involved. With the transmission mechanism of the virus, thus individuals wear masks within the hope of reducing the chance of infection.

Years later, once the contagion immunizing agent had been develop. The Japanese government same it absolutely was additionally vital to induce the shot than to wear a mask; nevertheless, overenthusiastic usage continued within the island country.

In China, the employment of face masks against epidemics was the practice even earlier. In 1910 and 1911, voters were inspire to wear masks to combat the plague natural event in a geographic region. By the time the plague abated, over sixty, individuals had died. In modern northeast China, creating it one of the world’s largest epidemics at the time.

Still, masks helped the country prevent additional deaths.

Even as with COVID-19, lockdowns, and travel restrictions were enforce to lower the infection rate.

Mask-wearing became obligatory, too, same Christos Lynteris, a senior lecturer. Within the department of anthropology WHO studies epidemics at the University of St. Andrews in Scotland.

It was throughout that natural event that the mask was a tailor. For epidemic management functions and employed by doctors, nurses, health workers. And also the general public for the primary time, Lynteris told Abraham.

The creation of the counter plague cover was ascribe to Dr. Wu dialect Lien-Teh, a Cambridge-educated Chinese MD WHO light-emitting diode anti-plague operations on behalf of China within the region.

According to Lynteris, Wu’s masks were well-received internationally. The general public health initiative was coated by the press across the world. With pictures of mask-wearing plague fighters making a global sensation.

After the tip of that epidemic, Wu dialect continued. As China’s most senior medical scientist below the new republic, Lynteris same. He continued to develop the mask, that became an everyday epidemic management feature within the country over consequent 3 decades.

The mask itself became an emblem of medical contemporaneousness across East Asian countries, Lynteris same. Individuals don masks within the winter to shield themselves from the contagion. They slip one on within the spring to prevent pollinosis. The masks additionally offer protection from pollution and cut back the unfold of germs on jammed and poorly aerated subways.

There’s associate moral part, too. East Asians wear masks for his or her own health however chiefly out of respect for others.

Though the history of mask-wearing goes back a minimum of a century, consultants say the mask didn’t reach peak quality. In South Asian countries till the 2002-03 extreme sudden and serious lung-related disease widespread disease.

Extreme acute metabolism syndrome, additionally a coronavirus malady, lasted concerning six months. Because it unfolds to over countries in North America, South America, Europe, and Asia. Before it had been stop in July 2003.

SARS coagulated the standard mask as AN everyday staple, Sinha said. Once COVID-19 smitten, East Asians placed on a mask at their own volition.

The legacy of extreme intense breathing and lung-related sickness in 2003 brought about plentiful speedier take-up of cover wearing for private security. Once Coronavirus showed up, she said. It’s a sort of agreement folks respond by carrying masks.

As a group terribly early within the natural event. retailers were clean out, and masks were in brief offer. Queues to shop for masks were seen across Asia in the city, Asian country, and Japan, among others.

In city, wherever COVID-19 cases have remained low, by and enormous, masks area unit worn by nearly everybody. While not abundant government urging. In step with one study of one, participants, in March, ninety-nine reportable carrying face masks. Once exploit home up from sixty one within the 1st survey in Gregorian calendar month.

Before to COVID-19, if you didn’t use a mask publically areas. Whereas sick or throughout the peak of the contagious disease season.

You’d be at the receiving finish of over some dirty appearance. In step with Judy Yuen-man Siu, AN prof of social sciences at the city engineering school University. (Siu has watched and followed the utilization of mask-wearing. In the city within bad after-effects of the severe acute respiratory syndrome natural event.)

If you behave against the social norms in the city by failing to wear mask publically areas. You’d become a ‘deviant alternative,’ and therefore you would possibly receive dirty appearance from the general public, she said.

In a virulent disease, not carrying a mask in AN East country is seen.

As anti-social, unaccountable, and dangerous to oneself and to others, Lynteris aforesaid. In Japan, even their downy anti-coronavirus being, a cat named “Koronon, dons a mask.

Cover wearing may have flawlessly blended into the way of life. In East Asia, because a large portion of the nations have a collectivist bowed, Sinha said. Folks typically grade the cluster over the self. Swing on a face-covering once you’re sick or around vulnerable folks is an element and parcel of fine citizenship.

Western societies tend to be additional individualistic, stressing. The needs of the individual over the requirements of the cluster as an entire.

A mandate encroaches on my personal freedom; it’s my individual right to not wear one, AN anti-masker may say in response to the CDC’s public health recommendation.

While there’s actually diversity across East Asia relating. To however collectivist societies really area unit. The heritage of malady outbreaks and an additional civic-minded community is powerful,” Sinha aforesaid.

East Asian countries even have a bigger proportion of extended families. Than Western countries, which suggests folks area unit additional seemingly to adopt public health measures. If they comprehend it is for his or her own sensible, she added.

See More : Teachers Are Spending Their Own Money On School Supplies Due to COVID-19

The individual rights argument against masks features a long history.

Within the U.S. within the 1918 pandemic, there have been reports. From each town of mask slackers failing to adjust to the law throughout the pandemic, resulting in their arrests. In the city, the AN Anti-Mask League of 1919” was shape.

In 2020, the anti-mask sentiment is alive and well. Not in little half owing to mixed electronic communication on masks from officers. It wasn’t simply a provisioning challenge to secure enough masks; for months, scientists and doctors waffled concerning the utility of face coverings.

Many Western leaders ab initio side-eyed the mask gave the shortage of precedent on carrying them. Adopting masks would need a “big adjustment” in our country, Austria’s Chancellor Sebastian Kurz remarked.

In a Gregorian calendar month, since “masks area unit alien to our culture. President Trump finally slipped on a mask publically in July. When four months of resisting, however, he’s continue to voice his mask skepticism since.

Protests continue, however, six months into the pandemic, face masks area. The unit has seen because of the most powerful public health tool. The state has against the coronavirus, a minimum of till an immunizing agent is develop and cosmopolitan.

Government agency Director Henry Martyn Robert Redfield stressed that message whereas addressing U.S. lawmakers earlier on.

We have clear scientific proof they work, and that the area unit our greatest defense, Redfield aforesaid. I may even go up to now on say that this mask is additionally certain to defend. American state against COVID than after I take a COVID immunizing agent.

In alternative words, Americans may still get snug in masks. Since we’ll in all probability ought to wear them publically for the predictable future.

It might pay to appear on the and aspect concerning masks and take a page from East Asians, Horii said.

These times might encourage folks within the West to replicate upon their own norms and values, he said. Rather than asking why folks in the East Asia area unit carrying masks. We should always raise the folks within the West. Why they didn’t wear them till recently and why a number of them resist it. Japanese folks are doing it for a century!

Cho, the faculty student from Asian country, had stopped carrying masks since emigrating to the U.S. She’s over happy to wear one for as long as she has to currently.

She admits that her appearance at the anti-masker movement generally. And wonders why such a big amount of area unit wasting their energy on the difficulty.

Why protest over one thing that keeps yourself et al. safe? she aforesaid. Masks don’t seem to be political, and neither area unit the health and safety of others.

#Tagscovid-19 active cases in delhi covid-19 america covid-19 antibody test covid-19 ap covid-19 cases in india covid-19 delhi covid-19 india

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vixxscifiwritings · 4 years

Text

reflections in wisps

Length - 2457 words

Characters - Seokjin x Jaehwan, BTS Ensemble

Rating - Teen and Up

Summary - Seokjin knows he won’t have Jaehwan for long. The illusion of their love is a false reflection in the fading wisps of feelings they once harboured for each other.

Series

Tag List - @tomatoholmes @merlionmen @seraphistols @k-craze-97 @blossomtearsleo

“You’re smoking again”

“I was wondering when you would notice it and ask me to stop”

“I don’t think asking would have actually made you stop.”

“I guess not”

When Jaehwan returns, he apologises to Seokjin.

Jaehwan apologises but makes no excuses. It’s part of what Seokjin likes about Jaehwan. He has no lies or cover ups or excuses. He comes down to the fancy apartment they share in the ‘right side’ of town after disappearing for days and tells him he is sorry.

He doesn’t tell Seokjin what he is sorry for and Seokjin doesn’t ask because there are things he should be sorry for and he doesn’t tell Jaehwan about them either.

Instead they kiss. It’s easier to be lost in the way Jaehwan’s lips on his skin give him goosebumps and how the warmth of someone else feels just right when he has been deprived for so long. Sex doesn’t require thinking. Sex doesn’t even require feelings if you are doing it right.

And so he kisses Jaehwan back and let’s the thoughts in his head be drowned out behind white noise.

Seokjin grows up in a house in the posh suburbs to the east of the city. He grows up in a small two storeyed house with a flower bed in the front yard and a white picket fence all around. He even had a sugar glider briefly but he forgets the name.

His life changes drastically when his father decides to run for the local government body. Suddenly his family is thrust into the limelight and his father’s PR team decides to use the opportunity to broadcast how virtuous and well behaved they are.

His mother and brother fare better under the scrutiny. His mother is traditional and believes in supporting her husband and hence has no problem playing the part of the loving partner. His brother is ambitious. He studies business in a prestigious business school and starts his own business, riding on his father’s fame. He humbly attributes his success to the values his parents instilled in him at any public event and even marries the daughter of their father’s biggest sponsor for campaigns.

Seokjin does what any sensible young adult would when faced with life changing events out of their control.

Seokjin rebels.

He goes to the local art college to study filmmaking. Despite his gorgeous face, he becomes an assistant director with a non-profit organization that works to raise awareness about issues plaguing modern society through films. And as the last nail in the proverbial coffin of his good boy image, he starts to date Lee Jaehwan. A good for nothing who brings no addition to their family’s social status, his grandmother announces over a family dinner and Seokjin kisses Jaehwan in front of everyone to “console him”.

“Try not to give someone an aneurysm” Hoseok pleads, adjusting Seokjin’s wonky bow tie.

“I make no promises,” Seokjin says with a devilish smile.

“Okay. I’ll treat you to coffee for a month if you can wait till after the auction has concluded before offending someone with a witty remark” Hoseok says.

“Of course I am not gay, I am merely waiting for the right girl to make an honest man out of me. Of course my parents are doing well, I called them just the other day. Yes my brother’s business is doing great, I am very proud. If only I was more like him” Seokjin says in a shrill voice and Hoseok gives up on any hopes he has.

Seokjin follows his friend who navigates through the crowd and talks to the crowd attending the art exhibition he has curated. It has the most ostentatious, the creme de la creme of society in attendance and Hoseok has high hopes to earn the profits he needs to keep the museum running tonight. And Seokjin is many things but not a bad friend so he sticks to the flutes of champagne supplied helpfully by the servers and makes a polite comment here and there but says nothing more.

“Isn’t she a beauty?” Hoseok asks, when he finds Seokjin looking at one of the modern art pieces on display. It’s a realist painting of a diner in a small town. The diner has large glass panels that lets the onlooker see inside and note the people sitting down by it and a waiter serving them from behind the counter.

“What’s the story behind this?” Seokjin asks. The diner is dreary to look at and inspires no strong emotions but that is how real life is. Nothing interesting ever happens and Seokjin can hardly blame the artist for depicting the truth of the world. It’s also surprisingly devoid of people and meaningful interaction, like it is an image of a lonely time, sliced out of the flow of time and captured on canvas. It’s how most of his nights look now but Seokjin quickly squashes the depressing reminder.

“Nighthawks by Edward Hopper. A classic modern art piece” Hoseok tells him. “It’s supposed to be a comment about loneliness in the urban lifestyle of the 1940s America.”

“Still holds,” Seokjin says, taking a sip of his champagne. His cheeks burn with warmth but he ignores it.

“Is it already bid for?”

“Not very high if you’re thinking about buying it. Everyone is going for the more well known modern art pieces or the fancier classics” Hoseok says. Seokjin takes a cheque book out of his jacket. He didn’t intend on using it tonight but life has never gone the way he intended it at any time.

“What do you think?” Seokjin asks once the crew from the museum installs the painting in the living room and leaves.

Jaehwan looks at the painting and says nothing. Seokjin knows he hates it. But it is magnanimous of him not to voice it immediately. The painting has grown on Seokjin and he can’t bring himself to regret the small fortune he has spent on it.

“I like it” Seokjin responds when Jaehwan doesn’t. He reaches out and adjusts the painting so that it is perfectly parallel to the edges of the wall.

“Why this specific painting?” Jaehwan asks.

“I liked the irony of a social place being used to depict loneliness. It spoke to me spiritually” Seokjin says. He goes on to add the analysis of the painting that Hoseok gave him about loneliness and despair and how the want of company and comfort is a thing that hasn't changed over decades and continents.

"You could add a funky neon sign with a few letters blinking or not lit up and it would be any themed diner here in South Korea" Seokjin jokes before admiring the way the painting looks on the light cream coloured walls of the apartment.

Jaehwan stares at the painting and never looks at it again for the remainder of the night.

Things almost go back to normal but they really don’t.

Jaehwan takes Seokjin on pretty dates to pretty places during the day and whispers dirty things into his ear as he kisses him at night. It’s almost like the days he disappeared and the fights they had didn’t exist.

But he also dazes out in the middle and never really pays attention to whatever Seokjin is talking about. He hums and responds at all the right places in a conversation but never really means any of it. Jaehwan also takes to his old habit of smoking in the balcony after every night they spend together. It’s like whatever happened in those days has changed everything between them.

Seokjin knows that the ground beneath his feet has shifted. He’s no stranger to that feeling of the world changing overnight. Only this time, it happens so quietly that Seokjin really doesn’t know how to deal with it.

How do you hold onto smoke that lies within your reach but cannot be held? It only shifts out of his grasp, just far enough to never truly be held and just near enough to suffocate him slowly.

“I have news for you” Jaehwan says, looking at Seokjin. “Taehyung liked the manuscript I sent in. He’s suggested minor changes and decided to forward it to Namjoon. If Namjoon likes it, I will get a publishing deal.”

“That’s amazing,” Seokjin says and finds that he really means it. “I didn’t even know you were planning on sending it in.”

Jaehwan and Taehyung have an awkward history. Taehyung is a book critic and editor for Namjoon’s publishing house and someone very familiar with Jaehwan’s writing from his newspaper columnist days. Taehyung always claims to have fallen in love with Jaehwan’s writing way back then. But Seokjin knows that Jaehwan wants nothing to do with his old life and so he usually diverts Taehyung's attention away from it.

“It’s nerve wrecking as fuck. I hope this becomes popular as hell so I never have to write ever again” Jaehwan swears. Seokjin laughs.

“Let’s open up a new wine bottle. Yoongi recommended this new brand of red wine that I got a bottle of and you can tell me what your new book is about” Seokjin says. It’s a little too early to celebrate anything but a little cheer will be good for them.

“It’s just a story about… people. Places and things. Nothing and everything” Jaehwan says vaguely as he gestures to the air around him.

“What a thrilling description. I’ll ask Namjoon to put it on the book cover” Seokjin says wryly. For the first time in a very long time, Jaehwan laughs and Seokjin laughs with him.

What Seokjin does ask of Namjoon is a copy of the finalized manuscript that is approved for printing.

Namjoon loves the book and gives it a raving review. The publishing deal is finalized quickly because Taehyung does not want to give Jaehwan the chance to change his mind. Before Seokjin knows it, a thick bundle of papers tied together with a large gaudy paper clip and sealed in tacky brown packaging arrives at his doorstep.

Seokjin keeps the manuscript a secret. He wants to let Jaehwan offer a signed personal copy for keepsake. But he is also a curious soul and this trait always gets the best of him.

Jaehwan is out for the night. (He is always out for some reason or the other.) So Seokjin pours himself a glass of cheap store bought red wine and puts the manuscript on his lap and begins to read.

It's a story of a lost man. A man who feels lost even though he is loved by all and a man who doesn't know himself though everyone around him is quick to label their relationship with him and by extension to label him. The protagonist spends half the novel wandering and pitying himself till he meets someone and falls in love. It's a forbidden sort of love and sucks both men in till their feelings overwhelm them. The protagonist leaves by the end because the protagonist always does but he leaves his heart in the tiny dingy motel they met in and even that admission is a guilty confession to the wide vacuum of an uncaring world and not to the object of his affection.

Seokjin reads through the manuscript in one setting. Jaehwan is just that good with his words and Seokjin knows this is a rare glimpse into his mind that no one else is afforded just yet. Jaehwan will make it big. No wonder Taehyung is anxious to have the deal under his publishing house. Jaehwan writes about true love and heartbreak in a magnificent way that anyone can understand but can only hope to experience in their lifetime. At once the grandeur of heartbreak is within your grasp and just out of your reach.

When he finishes the manuscript, he looks at the painting hanging in the gallery and understands Jaehwan's surprise. He rereads the last confession and understands Jaehwan's disdain too.

"I don't have excuses" Jaehwan says, when Seokjin finds him smoking on their bedroom's balcony.

"You never do" Seokjin says, sitting down next to him.

"I'm a shit liar for a writer" Jaehwan admits. Seokjin scoffs and rubs his nose. He is resigned to the situation but he doesn't find the smell pleasant. Nothing will endear him to smoking, he thinks. Not even the oncoming heartbreak.

"You're much better than you think you are" Seokjin says. Jaehwan gives him a searching look. How much does Seokjin already know, Jaehwan wonders. The painting from the living room is gone and Jaehwan has seen the copy of his book on Seokjin's nightstand.

"How much did you read?" he ventures to ask. Some band-aids are better ripped off as soon as the wound stops bleeding.

"All of it" Seokjin replies honestly.

"I didn't mean to break your heart" Jaehwan tells him.

"You don't get to decide what hurts me and what doesn't" Seokjin says sharply. He doesn't like the way Jaehwan genuinely sounds apologetic and guilty. He hates how it isn't motivated by love and merely by concern over a relationship that should have died much earlier.

"Why did you come back if you thought you really loved the one you left behind?" Seokjin asks.

"Because that ending is… a white lie. A romantic ending to make the book sellable. I didn't fall in love when I was at the motel. I didn't fall in love with someone else" Jaehwan explains.

"You only fell out of love with me" Seokjin summarizes breezily. Jaehwan draws a deep breath of his cigarette and turns away to let the smoke out. This hurts more than Seokjin thought it would.

The two men sit in the balcony and avoid looking at each other. The air between them is thick with tension, stuffy from the remains of what once was and will never be again.

Seokjin watches the tendrils of smoke rise from the last of Jaehwan's cigarette through its reflection in the window glass. The ember glows till it dims and fades out, leaving only smoke in its wake.

He wonders if the disappearance of the carbon means he can pretend that the smoke never existed once sufficient time has passed. Or if the smell will taint his memories forever like heartbreak threatens to taint the rose hued past blue. He wonders if he can lean forward and catch the smoke as it twists in and out of the air current to rise up and disappear into nothingness. He wonders if the smoke was always meant to escape and if the paper was always meant to burn to give it the freedom it so runs after.

In the end, all the smoke does is suffocate him and make his eyes water.

#kenjin #vixx fanfiction #vixx ken #bts fanfiction #bts seokjin #angst #series: small town faded dreams

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tipsylady · 4 years

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Status in a bottle

There were always products what symbolized the economic rank and the competition of owning the shiniest one will never disappear. In fact, the pace of it accelerated in the world of influencers and Instagram queens.

How did whisk(e)y turn to be one? Why does more and more businessman think of it as an object of investment? Whisky is meant to be experienced. It was consumed by dockyardmen as well, not only kings. The thought as this is a little piece of luxury is deep-seated.

Let’s start it with the movies – Hollywood’s silver screen always had a close relationship with the golden spirit.

On one hand, this form of entertainment is a good getaway to other worlds in fantasy, but no doubt movies can also influence minds and might shape the society as well. What do the heroes drink in a movie to collect some strength and courage? What about those badass gangsters who clink glasses after a dirty deal? Does the champagne look masculine enough? Or a gin in a highball? I don’t think so, but as fine feathers make fine birds, the fancy scotch in a robust old fashioned glass makes macho from the man. As Sinatra said: “This is a gentleman’s drink. This is nice.”

Do you remember how the cavalier Great Gatsby shined on the screen? We all know what made him “Great”. The biggest legislative backfire in the American history was probably the prohibition. The bootlegging and black pub operation during the years of dry era helped make the fortunes of the nouveaux riches. The illegal liquor business became lucrative and the organized crime groups were eager to meet the demand. Notorious gangsters, like Al Capone also became wealthy during the prohibition. So at that time what could symbolize more the wealth than the lined up whisky bottles on the rich’s shelves?

Based on the above, we can agree, that investing into whisky is not a new thought. Nowadays you might stuff your pocket if you purchase lost distilleries’ golden liquor. I bet those are very lucky now who have treasures from Port Ellen…

Till this point I was just digging in the past, but now let’s try to wonder about what tomorrow holds. How will the new trends form the industry in the future? Is No Age Statement (NAS) whisky the enemy? Or is the age nothing but a number? I can only scratch my head and thinking whether there is a hole in the inventory and the distilleries issue these labels in an attempt to match the growth demand for single malts with their very limited supply or this is a way how they want to pull off new consumer segments? If the latter would be the case, then there would be a price drop, not a jump. What can we expect: will be less single malt with age statement available, becoming more desirable, thus keeping their status?

The industry is so wedded with the numbers, many people think that the older automatically means better quality. Holding a 20 years old whisky in your hand is such a good feeling, I won’t argue, you are sipping two decades from your glass. It is prestige for some. But I don’t mind breaking this paradigm and I try to consider it as opening up endless possibilities for whisky producers to make new, incredible malts. Let’s put out tongue in the “water” and see how it works!

#Singlemalt #SingleGrain #scotch #whisky #whiskey #talisker #ardbeg #macallan #glenfiddich #glenfarclas #lagavulin #kilchoman #Bourbon #Laphroaig #bunnahabhain #caolila #portellen #islay

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doomedandstoned · 4 years

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THIS IS SOUND OF ORIGIN

~By Shawn Gibson~

When last we encountered SOUND OF ORIGIN, the smoked-up and tuned-down quartet from Huddersfield were featured in the landmark compilation, 'Doomed & Stoned in England' (2019), where we dipped our feet "Into The Vile." Since then, Sound of Origin have gifted us with an entire album's worth of material and we've had a blast immersing ourselves in their groovy soundscape of swirling riffs, vicious beats, gritty singing, and some terrific vocal harmonies. Our resident sludgehead Shawn Gibsonheavy set out to get to know these guys better, speaking to drummer Chris 'Foz' Foster following their latest APF Records release, 'The All Seeing Eye' (2020). [Billy Goate]

Chris, how the hell are you? Thank you for your time!

Hey, Shawn. All good and absolutely no bother at all, thank you for reaching out and doing the interview. It’s very much appreciated.

Who are the members of Sound Of Origin and what do they do in the band?

There are four of us in the band. Joel (Bulsara) who is our vocalist/ frontman. Joe (Wilczynski) on guitar/backing vocals. Jax (Townend) on bass and myself, Chris (Foster) on drums.

Where is Sound Of Origin from?

We are based out of and rehearse in Huddersfield, UK. I live in a place called Sowerby just outside of Halifax and Joel lives in Leeds, so we both travel across to join up with the other two guys.

What bands do you love from your area?

Wow. That’s a tough one as there are so many. The UK Underground scene is awash with fantastic bands, and many come from around our local area. If we are talking around our immediate area, then there are the likes of Ironrat, Gandalf the Green, and our bros in Son of Boar that immediately spring to mind. But if you look within an hour's drive from where we are, you have the likes of Barbarian Hermit, Spaztik Munkey, Archelon, Boss Keloid, Ten Foot Wizard, Blind Monarch, Hundred Year Old Man, and so many more. All killer bands doing different kinds of heavy.

This is the reply to all who wrote us off: Not Dead Yet.

What venues or bars do you go to see heavy music?

There are a good number within a short travelling distance to us. The Parish in Huddersfield is our local venue. However, our good friends in Iron Boar bookings put killer lineups on in Bradford at venues such as The Underground and Al’s Juke bar. Manchester-wise, Chunk from Stonebaked promotions usually uses The Bread Shed and there is also The Alma in Bolton that puts on some cracking gigs, too.

Which bands got you turned on to doom, psych, and stoner?

From a very young age it’s got to be Black Sabbath, for sure. I can still remember how I felt when I heard them for the very first time as a five-year old, It’s stayed with me all my life. But bands like Type O Negative, Acrimony, Cathedral, Candlemass, Trouble, Weedeater, Paradise Lost, Eyehategod, Reverend Bizarre, Saint Vitus, Monster Magnet, Electric Wizard, My Dying Bride & Anathema have all hit the spot at some point over the years.

The All Seeing Eye by Sound of Origin

Who did the artwork for your new album 'The All Seeing Eye' (2020)?

A friend of Joel’s called Sam McDougall. Such a talented guy and really easy to work with. Our mates over in 4Q Media delivered the overall design for the CD package and it has worked out really well.

I love the slow part of "Warfarin" at about 5:35 minutes in. Slow and on the moon! There's even a part that incites moshing!

The end of "Warfarin" finishes off low & slow for sure. (laughs) We wanted to ensure the first song from our original EP ended with a big riff. As for the faster part, all of us in the band like some faster bands (Joe used to play in a thrash band many moons ago) and we felt like it was a natural fit in the song when we were first putting it together.

Seeds of the Past by Sound of Origin

On your first album, "Seeds Of The Past," "Warfarin," and "Asphalt" are my favorites. Tell me a little about these songs.

"Asphalt" is my personal favourite from the first EP. The way it keeps coming back around, but builds and builds each time and John’s vocal delivery (old singer) did it real justice. It was always great to play both in the studio (volume turned up to 11) and live as we used to get a great reaction from the crowd on that one. The end riff on "Warfarin," where we slowed things down, always was fun to do as we rehearsed it in the studio 'till we got it down to a virtual crawl.

My favorite off your new album, 'The All Seeing Eye' (2020), is "Not Dead Yet." That is how you start an album, goddamnit! Face melted!

It’s a big sound, for sure, when it kicks in. When our old singer left the band, we went through some pretty dark times, and we were written off by many people -- some going as far as to say we were dead as a band and we should just knock it on the head. Enter new vocalist Joel and everything changed for the better. The fact is, as a band, we have never been more alive and well. This is the reply to all who wrote us off. Not dead yet.

At times, it’s been like a budget version of Spinal Tap.

What are some things that inspired your album 'Seeds Of The Past' (2017)?

Joe had been trying to get a solid stoner-doom band together for about 10 years or so. It took a very long time to get a workable, regular platform to flourish, as life generally got in the way of establishing a fully integrated band. Seeds Of The Past is a reflection of some of the music Joe wrote years prior. That said, the title track "Seeds" we came up with in the studio jamming and it just took off from there.

What are some things that inspired the music on 'The All Seeing Eye' (2020)?

The main contributing factors that inspired the music on The All Seeing Eye were more circumstantial than anything. We hunkered down in the studio and started writing material for a new album whilst we were in the process of finding a new front man. With this in mind, we set out on patching the initial framework of songs together and took things from there. It wasn’t until the addition of Joel that we really started to get to grips with the music and what we could achieve with the overall sound on the album.

What has been an awkward moment as a band?

Ha, where should I start? At times, it’s been like a budget version of Spinal Tap. Band-wise, I would say the most awkward time for us all would be the gap between singers. Having an idea of what you want to do moving forward and not being able to do it became frustrating at times. When Joel arrived, it was like a huge breath of fresh air swept through us all. Things came together really quickly and the growing pains we had when we first started out have all but disappeared now.

On 'Seeds Of The Past' (2017) there is a song "Left For Dead." 'The All Seeing Eye' (2020) has a song "Not Dead Yet." Your sophomore album is alive and kicking!

Absolutely. There was a completely fresh take and approach on this album. The arrival of Joel in the band led to a clean sweep of what we had done before. The lads (Joe & Jax) invested completely in new amps and cabs and guitars, and a change of approach came with dropping our tuning further. Whilst a number of the songs from the album had already been written, because of Joel’s vocal range we had another look at them between the four of us and reworked a few things here and there. The four of us now are in a much better place than at any time previously with the band.

"Dim Carcosa" and "Morning Bird" are rippers off 'The All Seeing Eye' (2020)! Talk to me about what's behind these songs.

"Dim Carcosa" references Robert W. Chambers and his fantastic work in The King in Yellow. Dim Carcosa is where horror truly resides and it delves into madness in various forms. This song describes the practical inevitability of mental health issues in today’s society.

"Morning Bird" came about when Jax started playing a bassline in the studio and sparked a song out of the group. Following the general themes of perseverance and will power, this song discusses the ups and downs of self-worth and the way the political landscape recently has given a lot of people the excuse to judge, be racist, and to discriminate on all fronts. As human beings, we are very tribal and like to separate. We don’t realise that we are, in fact, one tribe.

What makes Sounds of Origin laugh?

Each other. There is a two-decade age gap in the band and we are four very different people, but when we get together the laughs are constant. There is a real feel-good vibe in the band now more than ever, which has led to an intense period of songwriting and ideas. Even through this period of uncertainty with the COVID situation. Everyone is contributing now and the songs and ideas are coming together for the next album already.

Chris, it's been a pleasure! Thank you again for your time talking about your new album 'The All Seeing Eye' (2020)! I hope you and your mates in Sound Of Origin are well.

No problems at all. Again thank you guys for the support. Big shout out to APF Records for signing us and giving us a platform to push our music on. Best wishes to you all and we hope you stay safe and well in these strange times.

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

#D&S Interviews #Sound Of Origin #Huddersfield #United Kingdom #doom #metal #doom metal #APF Records #music video #Shawn Gibson #Doomed & Stoned

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bongalways · 4 years

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Tintinizing India - A story of life

If you are a Bengali who thrived when a misguided economic well-being did not threaten your mother tongue to its core, there is absolutely no chance that you have not been a part of the love that we always showed for detectives. We had our own Byomkesh, Feluda, Kiriti Roy, we had Sherlock and his overtly British demeanour. All of them possessed certain traits that were either something we had or something we desired. But among them, was an intrepid reporter from Brussels, who, without being something resembling our desires, burst into fame and remained famous ever since. The impact was so huge that it startled the creator of the character itself. He, always proclaiming that Tintin was his soul and that the character will cease to exist after him, was shocked by the love Tintin received from this tiny part of the world.

"I receive a lot of mail from India. Here, in my office, are two letters from Calcutta. Now, what can there be in common between a boy in Calcutta and myself?"

Why or how this tryst with Tintin started, is still a mystery to me.

In fact, the whole of India has always been a big admirer of Tintin. So much so, it has been such a crowd puller that Sony decided to release Spielberg’s Adventures of Tintin (2011) in India six weeks before it’s official release in USA. The movie still stands to be the highest grossing animated film in the country and also the animated feature film to receive the biggest opening ever. The comic books, adapted in Hindi around 2010, became and instant success and still remains to be one of the most sold comic series of all time.

However, that has not been the first time when Tintin spoke an Indian Language. Thirty years before it’s Hindi translation, Tintin was translated in a Bengali magazine, called Anandamela, for the first time. Aveek Sarkar, the same person who recently became famous through the comments made by our honourable CM, was the person who travelled the distance to meet Herge and ask for the rights to translate Tintin in Bengali. Till today, all the 23 translated versions released by Ananda Publishers remains to be an essential part of a Bengali childhood. Coincidentally, the first time I came to know about Tintin was not from one his stories or any news article. It was through one of my childhood heroes, the detective I have mentioned previously, Satyajit Ray’s Feluda. Ray, one of the biggest representatives of Bengali mindset, was a huge admirer of Tintin himself. His wonderfully woven brainchild Feluda, not only speaks about Tintin in several occasions, but somehow loosely resembles him in a lot of ways.

But why has Tintin always been so impactful? To answer that, we must know who Herge was, in what period was Tintin created and what were the stories trying to tell. Being born on 1907 in Belgium, George Remi a.k.a Herge was always destined to be living in midst of everything the three unimaginable decades presented the world with. Yes, Herge was there all through the world wars and was allegedly arrested for being a Nazi collaborator. Tintin was first published in 1929, but his story starts before that, when Herge started creating illustrations for the first time. Sources state Herge started creating illustrations during his school days as a protest against the German troops who occupied Belgium back then, during the First World War. However, the first notable published illustrations of Herge was about a boy-scout named Totor, who was inspired from his teen days as a boy scout. We can, therefore, safely assume that Totor, was the stepping stone that eventually lead to creation of Tintin. But that is not the same version of Tintin we all love and admire. The first three books (Tintin in the Land of Soviets (1930), Tintin in Congo (1931) and Tintin in America (1932)) were created with the initial beliefs that Herge possessed. Land of Soviets was about the ills of communism whereas Tintin in Congo, a brilliant portrayal of the diamond mining in Africa, was in itself way too racist than what is acceptable today. Tintin in America was a masterpiece though, and it was the one that perhaps cemented Tintin’s position in the world on Comics. The books portrayal of Native Americans, the Al Capone resemblances along with the attention to details makes it the most selling telling book till date.

Then, in 1934, came Cigars of Pharaoh. For the world, it introduced Rastapopoulos, Tintin’s nemesis and who’s similarity with stereotypical anti-Semitic portrayals will be talked about for a few decades. For us, it introduced India through Tintin’s eyes when the reporter’s plane crashed in a deep forest and he had to find his way out by becoming the official doctor of an elephant herd. The caricatures were what you can expect from a European of that time. The main villain is half-naked Fakir who throws darts mixed in a poison called Rajaija and makes the victim mad. The king of Gaipajama opposes opium trade and almost dies, Snowy is almost killed for abusing a holy cow. Not the ideal eh? So, anyone with the slightest idea of the rift between India and China can understand what comes next when the poppies are mentioned. But that was never the case. Why? Because in order to study the Orient, Herge was introduced to a Chinese named Zhang, the man who later became his best mate and can be credited for helping Tintin find his way.

The Blue Lotus (1936) starts where Cigars of Pharaoh ended and talks about the real China that was never talked about. Starting with the opium trade, Herge slowly shifts away to talk about Japans invasion of Manchuria and eventually, the second world war. The portrayal in so overwhelmingly wonderful, specially from an outsider, that it can be categorised as masterpiece similar to Spielberg-Christian Bale’s magnificent storytelling of Empires of the Sun.

Before WWII started and Belgium surrendered to German invasion, Herge wrote two more books (The Broken Ear and The Black Island) where the narrative primarily focused on adventure rather than politics. In 1939, just when the world prepared for WWII, Tintin saves Syldavia from a fascist leader in King Ottokar’s Sceptre. But the war meant Herge would eventually work under Nazi supervision and that was the case. Tintin goes up against a rich American Jewish man in The Shooting Star (1942). However, the books that followed this, namely The Secret of the Unicorn and Red Rackham’s Treasure (1943-44), are considered to be his best works. Soon, WWII ended and Herge became a free man of the free world. Only, he was barred from creating Tintin because of his status as a Nazi collaborator.

Have you heard of a parody called Tintin in the Land of Nazis?

Fortunately, though, the world was lenient on Herge. After few years, he was allowed to write. Then came the Seven Crystal Balls (1948) and Prisoners of the Sun (1949), where Tintin meets the Incas. Land of the Black Gold (1951) talked about oil crisis way before it’s time, Destination Moon and Explorers on the Moon (1953-54) made Tintin walk on moon way before Armstrong, Calculus Affair(1956) showed us cold war and Tintin in Tibet (1960) was all about finding a lost friend Chang (or, should we say Zhang from China?). Herge was so magnificent with his imagination as well as realisation of the world, the none of these stories fall out of place when compared with real history. Here, in Tintin in Tibet, we see a picturization of a New Delhi bazaar, so accurate and mesmerising, that you can almost forget the pent-up anger from what you read about India previously.

So, after all this, why do we Indians still love Tintin when we are so bored to talk about the World Wars?

Maybe it is because of how we have lived over the years.

We, the modern Indians, are descendants of countless wars that waged within our boundaries for centuries and still, our recent history is all about the 200 years of colonialism and small battles for the sake of independence. In that time, towards the end of the British rule, the world wars waged from America to Turkey to Japan. We were the biggest army of WWII and yet none of the folklore reeks of India. So, like Eve’s never-ending quench for the forbidden fruit, we have always been attracted to the politics around the world that never affected our daily lives. Be it the world wars, the oil crisis or the cold war. Heck Armstrong is perhaps more popular than Rakesh Sharma today. That is what precisely Herge did to us. He talked about the biggest crisis in simplest of way. It was a mixture of satire, truth, fantasy and romanticism. We drank it all.

Or maybe it is because of what Tintin resembled.

He was not a superhero. He was a decent looking reporter from somewhere beyond kaalapani, who has no ill vices, does the right thing, dresses neatly and most importantly wander in the land of unknown without any fear. He has a job for which he earns enough money to sponsor his trips, without a father asking him about his goals in life and a mother asking him to tie the knot. Plus, he does not talk about romance, neither mentally nor physically. Isn’t he the perfect gateway to the dreams we have always dreamt for ourselves? In Bengal, he came early with the taste of wanderlust, mystery and subtle remarks about politics. The three things that catches our imagination within a second. Moreover, being an ideal representation of a Bengali mother’s perfect child helped him fly into a little child’s bookshelf. From where he never disappeared, just got passed down from one generation to the other.

Moving out of the literature, let us talk about the technicalities. With his brilliant brush and realisation of perspective, Herge talks about the society at large, it’s functions, barriers and all those hard terms an economist use in a such a simple words and pictures that makes you feel at ease while brushing through them. You don’t realise, but your subconscious does and stores it, and redirects you to that same picture over and over again. Remember the brilliant picturization of Moon, the detailed underwater see through the shark-shaped submarine, or, my favourite, the wonderfully detailed picturization of a make-believe Inca King’s Diwan-e-Aam when Tintin and co. accidentally barges in. The side characters did their part as well. Haddock was as funny as he was serious. He was honest, comical, painfully drunkard, yet something about him made you follow his footsteps. Or else, billions of blistering barnacles will head your way. Calculus was genius lost in his own life. Bianca was ever-reliable, Thompson twins were the ever-humorous.

Tintin was a mixture of everything.

He taught us politics, he taught us history, he taught us science, astronomy as well as companionship. Personally, he taught me what quarantine stands for, where llamas are found, why an elephant trumpets, why glasses break when Bianca Sings. He was also my primer to calculus.

For nation that has always aspired more than it could grasp, a small Polynesian boy became the ray of hope and continues to do so, with flying colours. For the young kids who either loved or hated to read, Tintin gave their imaginations the fuel it required.

So, as an ode to the millions who tread this path before me, and to the billions to follow after, I hereby raise my toast to celebrate yet another product of the war-stricken days. The one which made us believe.

Credits :

1. India's undying love affair with Tintin - Soutik Biswas, BBC(2011)

https://www.bbc.com/news/15680397

2. India first for Spielberg - Robin Bansal, Hindustan Times(2011)

https://www.hindustantimes.com/hollywood/india-first-for-spielberg/story-IrjJzfKtVzn53XCfC5URAL.html

3. [VoxSpace Selects] The Boy In Blue – 90 Years Of Hergé’s Tintin - Puja Sinha(2019)

https://www.voxspace.in/2019/01/30/tintin/

4. Tintin in India: The epic that wasn't - Atul Sethi, TOI(2007)

https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/Tintin-in-India-The-epic-that-wasnt/articleshow/2094744.cms

5. All Wiki Links.

Rastapopoulos : https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rastapopoulos

List of Tintin media : https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Tintin_media

The Adventures of Tintin : https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Adventures_of_Tintin

Tintin(character) : https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tintin_(character)

6. Basic Information Help : http://en.tintin.com/

7. A Tintin timeline: https://nationalpost.com/afterword/a-tintin-timeline

8. Dark Secrets Behind the Creator of Tintin : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wUvxC8Qf3Bw

#tintin #herge #comics #comic #india #world #world war 2

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nonbinaryeye · 3 years

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Forsaken Scholar and Beholding Sailor

Written for @lonelyeyesweek

Day 6 - Entity Swap

One of them spends most of the year travelling all around the world seeing all its wonders. The other one stays locked in the Institute. It is not that hard to guess which one of them serves to the Eye and which one serves the Lonely…

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Peter Lukas loves traveling around the world with his ship. What could be better and more fitting for a servant of the Eye than to sail through the seas as he pleases, discovering all the hidden secrets of the most forgotten places on the Earth, gaining forgotten Knowledge and Seeing all the wonders the world has to offer with his own Eyes. And the most importantly of course – also feeding his patron with different flavours of the worries, fears and traumas people are experiencing in the different countries.

As amazing as it is to cross over the ocean all the way there and back, one of his favourite places is still the city of London. It is not because the sight of the city would be that amazing or wonderful – far from it. However it is one of the most monitored cities in the world and how could the soul of a Beholder not appreciate that? Knowledge that he cannot even cross a street without dozens of cameras – from ATM, from nearby stores, the traffic ones– turning its Eye on him, it's truly delightful!

It is strange though how he chose from all the places to build his Institute here as well. True, in two hundred years London certainly changed a lot but it was hardly quiet, peaceful or abandoned back then. As always Peter is curious about his intention and as always he sees it as one more reason to not to tell him anything.

Whistling he approaches the Magnus Institute – quite a big building in the middle of the city – which you could somehow still easily miss if you did not know exactly where to look for it. He opens the door with an elbow as both his hands are preoccupied carrying a big box containing few things he picked up on his travels.

Peter never felt the particular need to hoard the artefacts. He is the servant of the Eye. The point is therefore to See to witness everything with his own Eyes. There is no need for that. Though lately he always makes sure to grab a few interesting or possibly cursed objects. It would be rude to show up after such a long time without appropriate gifts.

“Hello, I am here to see my husband!” he announces loudly to the receptionist. She winces and looks around in fear that someone will blame her for such a loud visitor. As always there is still no one around.

“I… uhm… who?” she hesitantly turns back at Peter who is cheerfully smiling.

“You know, James-… no, I think it is Elias now… Elias Butcher? Boucher? Budget? I don’t know why he always has to pick the worst names.”

“Uh… do you mean… Elias Bouchard?”

“Yes! That sounds about right… even though… are you sure it is not Butcher?” Peter grins while the woman on the reception desk continues staring at him in disbelief.

“I didn’t know Mr Bouchard is married.”

“Oh, you didn’t? That is very unfortunate for you then. He hates when people know too much about him.”

“What you mean by it… uh… I- I will announce to you…”

“It is alright! I will find my way. See you around.”

Peter winks at her since his hands are still full and whistling again he turns around leaving a mildly confused, mildly terrified woman behind.

The Institute is a maze. Full of corridors leading in the same direction and full of others leading to dead ends. Full of offices which seemed way too big for just one person but too small to fit there two. Full of empty rooms or doors with no room behind them. One could easily get lost there. Even a basic task might take hours considering how far away all seems all the basic utilities form each other.

What luck that Peter Knows the way very well and in a couple of minutes through a few shortcuts he stands in front of the door leading to the office of the Head of the institute. Or at least he thinks these are the doors… They all look exactly the same and of course that there is no sign, no plate with name trying to give any guest any sense of space.

He kicks in the door a few times and when he hears nothing he tries to open it again with his elbows. To his surprise the door is not even locked!

“Hello Jonah!” Peter cheerfully greets the man who is frowning at some documents on his desk. On the first look he seemed to be the least remarkable person that ever lived – he is of rather small posture, dressed in a boring grey suit matching the colour of his eyes and hair that lost the bright ginger colour quite some time ago. But one cannot always trust the first impression as he also appears to be in his forties and claims to be named Elias Bouchard.

From all the people Peter ever met, Jonah Magnus is the most fascinating and charming one. It has taken Peter a while to get through his dull and cold demeanour but once he has he could no longer unsee his sharp wits and occasionally even a bit nicer and sweeter side.

“You are here already? Haven’t you left like yesterday?” Jonah does not even look up and Peter cannot help himself but smile over the familiarity of his act.

“It has been three whole months! Have you not missed me, oh fog around my lighthouse, cliffs around my port, barnacle-”

“No for a fact I was very happy without you and your ridiculous names of endorsement,” he sighs dramatically but corners of his mouth twitch a bit upwards.

“I did miss you. I was writing you that on the postcards.”

“Yes I know. I could not miss the overflowing mailbox. Once again I beg you not to send me anymore of them. I don’t even know where to put them…”

“Have you not say the last time you are throwing them all away?” It is always cute to see Jonah’s pale skin to colour with blush.

“Yes! Yes I am. That is what I meant. My bin is overflowing with them.”

“Feel free to throw them away, I will send you new ones!”

“That is exactly what I beg you not to do!”

Peter decides not to tease Jonah any longer; he is starting to look a bit exasperated and he knows better than to push his buttons too much. One time when Peter crossed the limit of Jonah’s tolerance, the servant of the Lonely filled the office with fog. It took the servant of the Eye a few minutes to get out and when he did he found himself in front of the Institute with doors locked. He would rather not repeat that. And so to offer peace Peter finally puts the box down on the desk. By the sound it makes it is clear that it is much heavier that one might guess by the ease with which the sailor has carried it.

“I am bringing you gifts!”

Jonah looks unimpressed. “I am not interested. Please could you find some other place to throw all your useless crap in than my institute?”

“I thought your institute is supposed to research the supernatural? I am bringing you cursed and priceless artefacts to study and all I ask in return is your love. Should you not be more grateful?”

“First of all your price is too high. Plus I have plenty of things to study for decades since you must bring me something every time…”

Saying that the institute’s approach to supernatural research is specific or interesting would be an understatement. As far as Peter knows Jonah Magnus started the Institute way back in 1818 shortly after learning about the Fears. Jonah pretended he was only interested in studying the supernatural even though he already had a scheme in mind regarding how to serve his chosen patron. He decided to lure in scholars with the promise of achieving great discoveries. Then he made sure to make their life just a lonely misery with them sacrificing their life in pointless study isolated from society.

Peter also knows Jonah was somehow acquainted with his ancestor Mordechai Lukas, who decided to sponsor his project in exchange of sharing all the knowledge and discoveries the institute will create as a byproduct of making scholars lonely. The deal lasts till now and that is how he and Jonah met at first… But that is all Peter knows about his past as Jonah is not usually very talkative concerning his past.

Forsaken has granted him a long and lonely life to serve its cause. Though lately Peter is doing his best to sometimes interrupt the lonely part of it… He changes name from time to time for legal reasons. Not that it is even necessary as no one ever looks into the institute and its matters way too closely. And if someone really even notices its existence and starts asking way too many questions it usually only leads to their mysterious disappearance.

“You can always hire more people to sort it out? I sometimes doubt you really have any employees at all. I rarely run into anyone…”

“That is exactly the point. I do not really want to risk they could meet. Now regarding your gift…”

“Ah well as much as it pains me if you do not truly want it…” Peter put on a theatrical look of tragedy and grabs the box again. Jonah raises his hand to stop him. Their fingers brush and he is as cold as ever.

“It is fine… since you have already brought it here. Just put it in the artefact storage on your way out. Someone will get to it eventually.”

Peter lets go of the box again rather grabbing Jonah’s hands into his leaning closer over the desk. Jonah is still doing his best to look unbothered but when Peter kisses his hands he cannot help himself but smile over the silly behaviour of his partner.

“We can always get a divorce if you despise my affection so much, my beloved husband.” Peter gently strokes the golden ring on Jonah’s finger.

“No need. Time spent together with you is so short when you live as long as I do that it hardly matters anyway.”

“It hardly matters to you. It still matters to me, my dear Jonah.”

“I could not care less, Peter,” Jonah grabs his collar and finally pulls him into a kiss.

#Their alligment might have changed but their relantionship is very similiar #Fear Entity Alignment Swap #tma #magnus archives fan #magnus archives fanfic #peter lukas #elias bouchard #jonah magnus #lonelyeyes #lonely eyes #lonelyeyesweek #lonelyeyesweek2021 #mEye fanfic #mEye post

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ortegatrash · 5 years

Text

FH chargestep wedding <3

Because people keep wanting to be able to get married in Fallen Hero, and because I proposed today and...he said yes. I’m in such a stupidly soft, happy mood.

You never thought you would see this day.

Tía Elena is sobbing with joy as she escorts Ortega down the aisle, the older woman clad in her finest dress and only slightly crushing the rose petals littering the area under her heels. While you two didn't exactly follow tradition with everything, you both thought it was only fitting - you don't exactly have any parents who could give you away and you couldn't begrudge your new mother-in-law a little adherence to tradition when she was so obviously overwhelmed with delight as seeing the two of you 'finally together, after all this time!'. A little orange rose peeks out of her cream jacket - she'd insisted on orange in honour of you and everything you've gone through. The colour of your tattoos.

You hadn't been sure what to think of it. On one hand, it was a reminder of everything in the past you wanted to get away from. But, well.

When she finally found out...she'd gazed upon the hideously bright things marring her skin and looked at you so heart-broken with tears in her eyes. Your heart had frozen for a second, thoughts of oh no, she...she is going to reject you running through your mind as you tried to calculate the nearest exit.

But this is the woman who raised Ortega, who basically tried to adopt you as her own - probably would have done so formally if you'd sign the papers. No, she managed to crush you in her embrace so tightly as she cursed very creatively in Spanish at the government, society, the world for doing this to you.

That's why she insisted on orange roses - "To tell the world we stand with you! To say, we know what you are and we don't care! And anyone who doesn't agree with this, they know you have the support of all of us!"

You'd been too touched by her righteous anger on your behalf to not let her have this. Perhaps there's a smidge of guilt too for not letting her know you were alive...it's a small offering to make her happy. You don't have the heart to fight over things that don't truly matter in the end, not these days.

You never thought you'd have this chance.

But then Ortega had appeared - always too nosey, too pushy by far. Squeezed into your life and just kept grinning at you with that stupid, dumb smile. The one currently being directed at you, like the idiot can't believe this is actually happening and this isn't just some sort of overly-elaborate dream.

Oh. Oh no.

Shit. You...you're in over your head.

You don't even realise you're holding your breath until your lungs start burning. Because...because Ortega is downright mesmerising, stepping towards you as if in a trance.

Look at those big, watery doe-eyes gazing at you, the sentimental romantic. Are those tears? Ortega is looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky or something else completely ridiculous.

You're not- you can't cry, oh no. You- you knew conceding to having all those flowers would trigger your hayfever! It...it's just your eyes watering.

Never mind the fact that you don't get hayfever.

Regenes like you were never supposed to have a life. Never supposed to be independent or be a real person - let alone fall in love. Never supposed to have that love actually reciprocated…

"To have and to hold, from this day forward-"

You hadn't ever thought you would actually be able to get married like...like a normal human being. Taken it for granted that something like that was only for Other People. Not you.

"-for better, for worse-"

Things got a lot worse before it got better. You've hurt the person standing in front of you so much and still. Ortega still wept like a baby at the proposal, tried to pick you up and spin you around. You were far too embarrassed to react but you took a gleeful sort of joy in making sure to 'accidentally' land on a foot when you were finally put down.

"-in sickness and in health-"

So many shared memories, so much blood spilt between you. Some of it because of each other. And so many other times where you stitched up each other's wounds, joked and laughed and cared. Cared so, so much, even when you wanted to hate. Because you had too much history - you couldn't just...pretend it didn't matter, even if you let the memories turn bitter and wielded them against each other.

"-To love and to cherish-"

You had to fall in love.

The dumbest, most foolish thing you could do. And yet.

You find you don't care. Not when those arms around you are so firm, so solid, not when they hold you like they'll never let go again.

"-Till death do us part."

A sudden flare of alarm sears through you because Ortega is turning away and this wasn't what was planned, what are you up to?

Of course Ortega arrogantly takes the mic. Of course Ortega taps it and grins wickedly at you. Something about the way you flush red from your ears to your toes makes you think the idiot has something dumb planned.

"You got that part wrong." Ortega corrects, to the bewilderment of the audience. "We aren't going to be parted by death, because even death couldn't keep us apart."

The- the sappy, soft-hearted fool! You...you are not touched by the corniness. Not at all.

Those eyes are so warm, so tender as they stare you down. As Ortega carefully takes the ring box that's been securely attached to Spoon's collar, giving his head a quick rub before Spoon sits down, content with a job well done.

As Ortega snaps open the box and holds it out between you.

"You know. There is so much I should say. So much I could tell you and so much I could say about exactly why I adore you. We don’t have the time to go on for the next few decades of me blabbering on here.” Ortega grins as a ripple of laughter makes its way through the audience. “But all it really comes down to is - I love you. And...and I hope that you feel the same way for me by now, since we’ve gotten all the way here...”

That’s a little more genuine anxiety in that soft voice than you suspect Ortega intends to let out but this is probably a really big thing. Those eyes search yours, trying to find any sort of sign for confirmation that this is what you truly want and it’s not still just a dream.

Something in your face must embolden Ortega again because of the way those fingers clutch the mic and that chin tilts up with the sudden strength of the conviction that washes over. “And... I know. I know I wasted so much time. So I promise - I will never let you go again, and I will follow you after death and beyond. Mi amor," - Ortega’s voice wavers a little, choked up with nerves and wonder and pure, overwhelming affection - "Will you do the honour of marrying me?"

Time.

Time stops.

And starts again, when you realise everyone is staring, Ortega's smile is starting to look a lot more nervous and you need to actually say something.

With a deep, embarrassingly shaky breath, you managed to squeak out: "I- I do. Of course." And then Ortega basically droops visibly relieved into your arms and you can’t help but mutter an “Idiot.” for good measure. But you're kissing, oh god, you're kissing like you've never kissed before and there is encouraging cheering and teasing and more than a few cat calls, but.

But Ortega is crying with joy because of you, overwhelmed beyond all words. Leaning in to whisper and repeat again and again and again: "Te amo, te amo, te amo!" and "I can't believe it, I can't believe I get to have you forever, I think I'm the happiest person alive right now."

You think you've finally discovered what happiness is and right it is sobbing into your overly expensive clothes and embracing you tightly. The only real difference is: Ortega is no longer afraid. No longer afraid that you'll disappear once you leave those firm arms, no longer afraid you'll disappear like a dream when people are not looking.

Nothing else matters when you see that irresistible smile.

Nothing else matters when you're the one to put it on that face, the face of the person you love so very, very much.

Nothing else matters because you have Ortega.

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