#and i know just how perplexing it is for them to discover that A Woman communicates with them the same way they communicate with her

[elsmaster]

My least favourite type of Man™ is the one that ignores very simple, clear instructions, in favour of doing whatever the fuck he thinks is the Correct way to do things, and then gets huffy when he ends up doing a lot of unnecessary work because he chose to ignore the very simple, clear instructions in the beginning. And then he contacts someone higher up in the corporate hierarchy to complain about the situation, but joke's on you, Man™, they're the ones who wrote the original instructions in the first place, and I consulted, so congrats, you now look like an idiot.

[youwouldntdownloadapizza]

The Gates of Jackson | Joel Miller x F!Reader | Chapter 1 - New Arrivals

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You showed up at the gates of Jackson with hands covered in blood and no memory of how you got there. That was two years ago. Since then, you've become Maria's right-hand woman and the person in charge of Jackson's logistical backend. Patrol schedules, inventory—all your purview. When a patrol gone wrong forces you to get to know Joel, memories of your past begin resurfacing—along with their consequences.

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pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors DNI

word count: 1.6k

tags: no use of y/n, eventual smut, no beta we die like sarah, jackson era, other additional tags to be added, slow burn, ellie needs a hug, joel lives, good parent joel, reader-insert, reader insert, forced proximity, only one bed trope, nightmares, childbirth, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, soft joel, cuddling & snuggling, fluff, masturbation, pining, joel falls first, possibly demisexual reader (tbd), ptsd, ptsd flashbacks, panic attacks, amnesia, sexual braiding

chapter warnings: childbirth (mentioned)

Chapter 1 - New Arrivals

The first time you met Joel, he stank like shit. Literally, he smelled like he had rolled in it. You issued him soap, and sent him on his way. That was a loss to Jackson’s ledgers you were more than willing to take.

The second time, he smelled better. Unremarkable mostly, more of a neutral scent tinged with man smell around the edges. Nothing to write home about. Still, you issued him deodorant. Couldn’t take any chances.

He requested bullets, a basic first aid kit, and warm clothing. With Maria’s approval, you made the relevant deductions and issued the items at hand. You even sprung for wool socks. With a winter like this, he could use all the help he could get.

“You’re headed south, right?” you asked him as he packed a worn duffel bag.

“Colorado,” he replied. You waited, but that’s all he gave you. Guess he didn’t feel like elaborating.

“What about the girl, she need anything?”

He considered the offer, then asked, “You got any pens, pencils or anything? Notebooks? She likes to keep track of things, take notes. Draw, mostly,” he trailed off, scrubbing a hand over his face, “And we’re almost out of paper.”

You smiled at that. A girl after your own heart . “I’ll see what I can scrounge up.”

* * *

You asked Tommy about him, once the two of them were gone. He didn’t have much to say.

“Barely talked to the girl. Probably know about as much about her as you do. Joel… Well, Joel’s an enigma.”

You rolled your eyes at that. “Come on, Tommy. I’m asking for the basics, not his social security number.”

Tommy sighed. “He’s brash, he’s protective, he’s opinionated… I don’t know what much else to tell you. He’s just Joel. One of those people you gotta get to know just by knowing ‘em, I guess.”

You blinked twice. “Supremely helpful, Tommy.”

* * *

The next time you met Joel, he smelled better but looked worse. You only half-remembered his eyes, but something in them last time had been warmer. The ones you saw now were… dead, almost. Like something within them had been destroyed. Whether he’d been the one to do the destroying or it had been done to him remained to be seen.

You’d seen him and the girl with Tommy and Maria in the dining hall that first time they’d come to town, wolfing down chili like they’d just discovered, well, chili. They ate slower now, both of them, not like they weren’t in a rush but like their heads were elsewhere. The girl seemed to stare into nowhere—not all the time, but it was distinct when she did it.

Joel didn’t zone out. No, if anything he was zoned in . On that poor girl who had been so full of life just months ago, now hollowed out like far too many others. You’d see about filling her back up later. But for now, he was the one that perplexed you. Why was he so focused on her? What had happened out there? Part of you never wanted to find out, but part of you really, really did.

Regardless, she needed new shoes. So you joined them. The man stopped mid-chew, looking up at you with trepidation.

“Hi,” you smiled, “glad you two made it back in one piece.”

“Me too,” he replied, turning his attention back to his cud. You couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be a joke or not. You turned your attention to the girl.

“You’re Ellie, right? I’m Doe. Or that’s what most folks around here call me, anyway.”

“Doe?” She cocked an eyebrow. “Like a deer?”

“A female deer,” you winked back at her. She stared at you blankly. 

“It’s a song,” Joel muttered to her softly, “from before.”

“Oh,” Ellie nodded. The silence dragged, but thankfully you came prepared.

“Cobbler?” you offered bowls to each of them. It was fresh from the oven, still steaming and smelling of cinnamon.

“Yes, please!” Ellie yanked the bigger bowl towards herself, broccoli forgotten. She got a few bites in before Joel intervened, pulling the sugar aside and reinstating the vegetables. The girl frowned at that, but his pointed look said not to bother arguing. So she didn’t.

“Don’t worry, it’ll still be hot in a minute.” You tucked into your own cobbler, savoring the warm sweetness as it glided across your tongue. Even in Jackson, it was a delicacy. But it was spring, and the cherries were here. And you’d accounted for everything.

“Did you want something?” Joel asked, finishing his own plate and reaching for the cobbler.

“Ellie needs new shoes.”

“We’ve got it handled,” he said.

“Do you, though? You haven’t got much to trade with, and we’ve got plenty in inventory. That’s kind of what it’s there for. Why suffer blisters when communism’s got your back?”

“Can I?” Ellie’s face lit up. You liked seeing her eyes like that: brighter. They belonged that way.

Joel swallowed his cobbler, mulling over the idea. “After lunch,” he agreed, nodding to the eager teen. “Finish your cobbler first.”

* * *

Ellie’s new light-up sneakers lit the way as you exited the storeroom through your office. Joel had insisted on a sensible pair as well, but you couldn’t deny the kid a little whimsy.

“Maria give you your patrol schedule yet?” you asked him, nodding to the well-worn chalkboard in the corner. Routes on the left, days and times up top. Names filled in the boxes in between, a testament to your logistical wizardry.

“Not yet,” he said, crossing to examine it. “Guess she doesn’t need to, now.”

“I’ve got you paired up with Tommy. Seemed easiest, to get you started. You’ll be headed up to the lodge, it’s a pretty standard route. Get the occasional runner, but it’s wildlife more than anything.”

He nodded, heading toward where Ellie was already scampering out the door.

“See you Tuesday, I suppose. Guessing you’re the one to check-in with?” he asked.

You smiled at his correct assumption. 

“Sure am.”

* * *

You didn’t know Joel well enough to make assumptions about his punctuality, but Tommy was never late. Even you were late from time to time, often getting swept up in tasks and losing track of things. But the man was annoyingly punctual. According to Maria, that’s part of why she fell for him.

Tommy was late today.

You crossed to the large observation window lining one wall of your office. It gave you a clear view of the front gates and surrounding guard stations, but there was no sign of Tommy anywhere. Or Joel, for that matter.

A knock on your door interrupted your analysis. It was Eugene. The grizzled old man acted anything but, a smile breaking out across his face at the sight of you.

“Hey, Doe! How’s things?” He asked.

“Fine. I’m looking for Tommy, actually–”

“Didn’t you hear?” He interrupted, “Maria’s gone into labor. He’s with her at the clinic.”

Your stomach dropped. Here you were preparing to chew Tommy out for his tardiness when the whole time he’d been busy becoming a father. A very valid excuse.

“And Joel?” you asked. “They were supposed to patrol together this afternoon, lodge route.”

“Not sure. He wasn’t with them. Listen, I gotta go grab the baby blanket I made and drop it off, but you and I need to have a drink one of these days. I worry your hair’s gonna start falling out in clumps if you don’t take a break eventually.”

“Yeah, but then what would you do, patrol out to the dam with Jesse? There’s a reason I don’t pair you two up anymore.”

“Because you don’t like blackberries?” he chided.

You frowned, “No, because you spent so long harvesting them your 8 hour patrol took 12. I was this close to sending out a search party. A little planning prevents a lot of headaches, Eugene.”

He turned to leave, looking back over his shoulder to get the last word. “You know what else is good for headaches? Whiskey.”

You sent Eugene on his way with instructions to give Maria your best. You’d visit her when the baby was here. For now, you had a community to protect. 

With Tommy out of commission and Joel MIA, you’d have to find someone else to help you cover this patrol route. Dina was always a solid partner, if she was around. Devon the bartender could generally be counted on to have your back. Eugene would be ideal, but you didn’t want to make him work a double.

You headed to the stables to see who you could find. Upon entering, the warmth of the building and company of the animals soothed your unease, if only slightly. 

You found your horse’s stall, the gray spotted mare whinnying at your arrival.

“Hey, Bailey,” you smiled, offering her a slightly bruised apple. She took it gratefully, big brown eyes closing in enjoyment.

“She’s beautiful,” a voice said from behind you, making you jump.

“Sorry,” the voice stepped into the light, “It’s just me.”

“Joel,” you took a deep breath in an attempt to slow your racing heartbeat.

“Sorry I’m late–” 

You cut him off with a raised hand, looking him in the eye. 

“You’re not with your brother,” you finally said, more of a statement than a question.

“You’re not with your best friend,” he replied, offering no further details.

You sighed, debating arguing with him about it before deciding the subject was better left untouched. You had your reasons for staying away from childbirth. If Joel had his own, he was entitled to that. You weren’t going to press him on it, so long as he didn’t press you.

“Come on,” you said, swinging your leg over Bailey’s back and settling into the saddle, “We’re making up for lost time.”

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[4xthemoon]

The Laws Of Thermodynamics

Type: One Shot

Relationship: CapitanoxMavuika

Word count: 1,925

Summary: Mavuika, in her tired state has a lapse of judgement, leading her to discover what Capitano looks like under the mask.

—————————————-

Unlike many assumed, Capitano required sleep like any other human did, and just like them, he preferred to be comfortable while he did so. Only, he waited until there was little chance for him to be disturbed, and frequently went without it for long periods of time.

He sat his mask on a nearby table, the hair that was once pushed out of the way, clung to his face. His gaze lingered on a small mirror before placing it face down, his actions were quiet, routine. Uncaring, yet careful. Slowly he removed his gauntlets, then his top. The burn Mavuika had managed to land on him was almost healed completely, soon to be just another scar, added to his canvas of many.

It was a hot night in Natlan, sweat beaded on his forehead and chest, illuminated by candlelight. It might not have affected him as much as it might his men, but the cool breeze that filtered through his tent was still a welcome one. He was about to continue undressing, when suddenly he tensed at the sound of dirt shuffling outside. The footsteps were more human than Saurian, he stayed still, looking over his shoulder to where the fabric was tied together. His eyes narrowed at the familiar silhouette of a woman.

“Mavuika.” His voice rumbled, addressing the woman and breaking the silence of the night. Instinctively he reached for his mask, eager to remain unseen, but for once, he hesitated. His hand barely hovered over it before dropping to his side again. His brows furrowed, perplexed by his own actions.“It’s late, what are you doing out here?” He would send her back, and then he wouldn’t have to worry.

"Captain.” She replied, crossing her arms. A certain tiredness laced her voice, akin to the dying embers of a campfire. “I needed to speak to you.”

“And it could not wait until waking hours?” He ran his fingers through his hair, mildly frustrated, wishing he could finally sleep. Had it been any of his men, he would’ve dismissed them sharply, they knew better than to disturb him. But he found himself unable to do the same to her.

“Unfortunately, no.” She paused. “It involves the Lord of the Night, and the Abyss. Things I do not want to be overheard.” Capitano hummed in acknowledgement, but before he could reply, the unexpected happened. Another set of footsteps approached, and without thinking, Mavuika dipped into his tent.

She didn’t know what she was thinking, maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the weight of the last few days that influenced her stupid decision to pull back the tent’s entrance. But she knew that being seen in the middle of the night outside the First Fatui Harbinger’s tent would be more trouble than it was worth.

The last thing she expected was to come face to face with the unmasked Captain. As for a moment, she had forgotten a face laid under the mask, that the Harbinger was a human, not some monster. She was not immune to assumptions, the Captain was nothing under all the clothes, he was inhuman, he didn’t require basic human necessities. But as her wide eyes matched his own, she realized her mistake.

Capitano turned around, his face wrapped in the shadows, hidden from her. Unfortunately, it was impossible to hide his damaged arms and torso as quickly. “What are you doing?” he practically growled at her.

“Quiet.” She hissed, the footsteps were growing closer, and she hadn’t quite processed what had just happened, more focused on the prospect of being caught. He almost fought back, until he heard them himself. His fists clenched.

“Get down.” There was no room for argument in his voice. She had no other choice but to obey, crouching on the ground next to what was most likely his bed. Capitano watched carefully as the silhouette of Ororon walked by. It seemed that no matter how much trouble the kid got in, he lingered by his side. Mavuika took note to ground the boy later.

“He is gone.” Capitano muttered, taking a deep breath, a poor attempt at refocusing. All he had to do was kick her out, and forget she had ever seen him. But it seemed that whenever he wished to turn her away, she interrupted.

“It isn’t that bad, by the way.” Mavuika began, brushing the dirt off her knees. “I know plenty of people who’d still like a piece of you, maybe even more so now.” she mumbled the last part, unable to hold back a smirk. She had met a few people in her years with…interesting tastes to say the least, but for once, she understood them.

“What?”

“Your face.” She elaborated, her back was turned from him, assuring he was out of her sight. With how much she had screwed up, it was the least she could do. “It isn’t as,” she hesitated. “Gross as you had made it out to be.” Capitano looked at her, her hair matching the flame that burned nearby. At first, he was quiet.

“You are mistaken.” he huffed.

“Ever consider that you were the one mistaken?” Her words were like drawn arrows, quick to hit their target. Capitano furrowed his brow as she sat on the edge of his bed, facing the very place she had so boldly entered before. He had calculated her actions time and time again, but with her, he found them falling short of the true answer. She was as predictable as the flames she represented. It both relieved and irked him.

“You’re wrong.” He reiterated, unsure as to why he hadn’t told her to leave yet. He felt possessed, his body acting before he had the chance to think it through. A moth to a flame, his feet led him forward until he was towering over her, his callused hand gently grasping her chin, directing her gaze to his. “Look at me, and tell me you’re wrong.”

Capitano would regret his actions, adding them to the internal list he read like a bedtime story before he could go to sleep. But he was so cold, and she was so warm, like ice he melted in the palm of her hands. He found himself begging for a reason to hate her, to push her away. It had been centuries since someone had seen him like she had, and though he would never admit it, he was terrified.

But she couldn’t tell him she was wrong, because it wasn’t true, even if it were, Mavuika would stay loyal to her words, not afraid to fight for her cause. She looked at him closer, noting his soft frown and long lashes. He looked at her like a stray dog, afraid of the same thing he craved.

Most of his face had been devoured by the curse that plagued his blood. Unrecognizable, yet, she could see the outline of handsome features, a phantom of his past. His jawline was sharp, his eyes glowed a striking blue. Her hand reached out, brushing up against his face as if she were inspecting thin glass. It was unlikely he would give her this chance twice, she had to make the most of it.

The corrupted skin wasn’t pleasant to touch, nor was it particularly appealing to look at. Nevertheless, it wasn’t enough to take back her words. The moon was a muse for many, its surface bruised and scarred. Yet, books of poetry had been dedicated to praising its quiet beauty.

To all others, the Captain’s humanity could be questioned, but so could her own. Both of their identities stripped away with the passage of time, the humanity they clung to, pried out of their stubborn hands.

Mavuika’s thumb rested on his chin when she had finished memorizing every inch, not quite ready to pull away. Capitano looked at her through stray strands of his hair, pleading for her to tell him what he wished to hear. Instead, she simply tucked the raven pieces behind his deformed ear, and held his cheek.

“We are no gods, Captain. Even if we were, no god could have stopped what happened.” Her words seared into his tender flesh. “We cannot let the Abyss drown us like it has our homelands. You cannot spend every moment wading in regret, do not let it push you to make decisions you would not make. That is all I ask of you.”

Capitano’s breath was hot against her skin as he stared at her intently, feasting on every word she spoke as if he had been starved. His hands rested beside her, caging her in. He could find no reason to hate her, it tormented him. She had made him soft. “You do not understand.” He hissed. Her eyes seared into his.

“Fight for what we have left, Captain. You have no right to take away my people's identities because it would bandage your torn heart. I will not allow it.” Mavuika meant it, Natlan was worth more than his pity. He had stroked her temper in the wrong way, anymore, and his tent would be ash.

“Anything is better than their lives lost.” He fought back.

“No it isn’t. What is the point of living if there is nothing to remember?” The grip on his face tightened. “The heroes you fought with, the very thing driving you to fight for my people, would be lost forever. For the First of the Fatui, you sure like the idea of taking the easy way out. I thought better of the man, whose strength was enough to rival my own.” Her words cut into his pride like hot iron. He snarled.

“You know nothing.” The words infuriated the woman before him.

“Then explain it to me.” Capitano, for the second time that night, hesitated. He had lost this battle, his second defeat stung worse than the first.

“I cannot.” Her grip on him loosened before her hands fell to her lap. Capitano despised the way it lingered, how he found himself missing her touch, her fingers much softer than his own. He stood up, creating the much-needed distance between them.

“Then trust me.” The wind blew harder outside, emotions foreign and familiar swirled within him. He made a disgruntled noise, unsure of the right response.

“I will consider it.” He picked up his mask, caressing the chilled metal, a reminder of everything. After a moment of contemplation, he sat it back down and turned to where she was now standing. “You are terribly stubborn, and it is most irritating.” He grumbled softly.

Mavuika burst out laughing. “All that, and that is the only thing you have left to say? You perplex me, Captain.” He found himself lucky the only candle had eaten through most of its wick, the dim light aided him in hiding his slightly flustered expression.

“You should get home, it is late.” He mumbled, the bags under Mavuika’s eyes were more than noticeable, his own indistinguishable from the dark veins that laid there.

“I had other things I wished to discuss with you, before you distracted me.” Capitano scoffed.

“It was the other way around.”

“A lot of things depend on perspective, Captain.” He wondered how long she would persist. He prepared to spar the subject, but to his shock, she was already beside the exit, her hand had pushed the fabric aside, exposing the moon. “Meet me tomorrow.” Her voice grew fainter as she left him in the dark, the fabric rustled behind her. “Goodnight.” Was barely a whisper, and suddenly it was cold again.

[teamtakagi]

Words with Friends

Rules: Use the challenge word to write a sentence or scene and then tag a few friends. Happy writing!

Thank you for tagging me, @a-mumbling-nerd and @lunammoon!

I'm lightly tagging @glittering-darmallon , @duskflight , and @paragondreams if you'd like to participate!

This week's word: Egregious

1: Exceptional, conspicuous, outstanding, most usually in a negative fashion.

2: Outrageously bad; shocking.

______

Following the path of a missing magister’s son, Jerran and Neve venture undercover deep into Minrathous’ seedy underbelly and find themselves in the territory of Ulma, the leader of an infamous trafficking group. Jerran and Neve are discovered while poking around and brought to Ulma’s Pleasure Lounge.

_____

Jerran shifted as he felt the sharp point of a sword press ever so slightly into the worn cloak covering his shoulders. He’d left the Grey Warden armor at home; most clients of the underground tended to clam up when they saw any symbol of law and order. 

Brands and tattoos ruled here.

Beside him, Neve Gallus raised her chin, regarding the slight woman lounging on the couch in front of him. “Ulma. I’ve heard your name, but never seen you in person.”

“Neve Gallus. I don’t know whether to be honored or perplexed that the Protector of Minrathous is here.” Ulma brought an ornate smoking pipe to her lips and inhaled slowly. “I thought we had a deal.”

“Been chasing a lead. It led here.” Neve tilted her head. “Missing magister’s son. Scrawny, dark hair. You heard of him?”

“Sorry. I’m just the simple proprietor of a pleasure house.” Ulma spread her fingers, jewelry dripping from her hands and down the ample cleavage of her thin dress. “Your servant there … I know many who’d pay for a night with him. Could get you far in your search. Maybe even pay your rent for a year. What do you say?”

“Sorry. It sounds boring,” Jerran said. 

She sniffed. “Gallus, tell your little elf servant that his manners are egregious.”

“I have ears, thanks. Big ones too.” Jerran grinned.  “And I’m not her servant. She works for me.” That should get her going.

Ulma sat up, leaning forward as she dangled the smoking pipe from her hand. Her carefully plucked eyebrows arched. “Oh? An elf, hiring a human? How did you manage that?”

Slowly lifting his right hand, Jerran tilted his head, pausing as the sword pressed a little harder into his back. “Easy. Just want to show you something.” 

When Ulma nodded, the weapon eased up slightly.

Pushing aside the thick asymmetrically trimmed hair covering the back of his neck, Jerran waited. Neve’s breath slightly caught as she recognized the symbol – a crescent moon with stars lining its curve –  just behind his right ear, but she kept her mouth shut.

Ulma nodded toward the guard standing directly behind Jerran and he stepped closer, breathing heavily on Jerran for a few long moments. “He's got the Midnight Star mark, boss.” He held up four fingers.

Merchants often trembled at the name of the Midnight Stars, an infamous group that robbed caravans and unwary travelers throughout Thedas. Their jobs ranged from stealing to burning villages for the right amount of gold.

Members of the Midnight Stars earned stars through either defeating a member higher than them, or performing well in an extremely dangerous heist. The leader earned a second moon facing the first. The highest rank a member could earn was four stars.

Four stars dangled from the moon on Jerran’s neck.

The guard stepped back and slid his sword back into its scabbard. The others lining the room relaxed almost imperceptibly. 

Jerran straightened, letting the hair strands fall back into place. Ulma regarded him with a bit more interest.  “What’s a Midnight Star member doing with Neve Gallus? Must be unusual circumstances,” she said, taking a hit off of her pipe.

He smiled, but said nothing, letting her draw her own conclusions. 

Ulma watched the smoke curl in the air for a few moments. “Next shipment of slaves is tomorrow. Your little magister’s brat should be in it. Heard that he’ll fetch a good price. Lithe body and all. Tell your boss he owes me extra.”

Jerran nodded. “I’ll pass the message.” He jerked his head to Neve, who took the hint. 

Once back in the upper streets of Docktown, Neve turned to Jerran. “A Midnight Star member?”

“Former. Not proud of it.” Jerran took a deep breath, inhaling the salty tang. “Let’s go. We don’t have much time once word gets out.”

[minjaeoriginals]

판도라: The Box of Yujin (Chapter 2)

TW: Strong language, depression.

"I... am responsible for this, take me to jail..." "TAKE ME TO JAIL!" Jinsoul desperately shouted those words that, although she didn't knew the impact they would have on her life, she only wanted to take the blame for this incident.

She couldn't bear to remember all the times she saw in her memory the always smiling Yujin telling her in so many ways that she loved her and the things she did for Jinsoul.

Flashback to the summer of 2015

The teacher looked with some strangeness at what was happening in that classroom, that classroom that had a large window that reflected the bright sun of that summer afternoon at the school where they both studied.

So that Yujin with that characteristic smile that made her stand out above the rest for how dazzling it was, proceeded to give a bouquet of flowers to Jinsoul and express in detail everything that her heart felt at that moment when the world stopped for the two of them.

"Jinsoul-ah, You know, when I see you... I feel like I'm in heaven." Yujin began with this phrase to express her feelings towards that maiden who had completely captivated her.

"I feel that when you look at me, my heart jumps with joy and of course I get nervous. Those nerves that I'll ruin our friendship because of the love I feel for you, although if you let me... I promise I'll make you very happy. You'll be very happy with me, just stay by my side..." "Jinsoul-ah, stay with me." Yujin said with a sincerity that was astonishing to a Jinsoul who was entering a total state of disbelief.

Yujin continued to look at her with that beautiful smile that denoted genuine happiness, a happiness that was not usually seen in that shy woman most of the time.

Jinsoul, seeing Yujin in total astonishment, decides to look the other way. With total perplexity and some displeasure, she runs towards the classroom door, preparing to leave the classroom.

The teacher, with a watchful eye and in total silence, became a witness to the event that still left him in total stupor; never in his years as a teacher had he seen two female students from his class confess their feelings to each other. It was something new for him.

Jinsoul, still without processing what had happened, continued running without a defined direction. She didn't knew when to stop and only wanted to get out of her mind that moment that she wished would never happen.

After examining the area where she would stop and after having walked almost the entire school garden, Jinsoul sits on a rustic green bench near a tree.

That bench, although it had not been used for a long time, served as a seat for the school garden workers who worked every morning when there were classes. There, Jinsoul looked at the floor while her thoughts remained tied to the experience she had recently had and that still did not leave her mind.

Meanwhile, in the classroom, Yujin saw how that woman she loved, but who was also her best friend, ran and left her abandoned, with her spirits in the basement and her illusions broken in a couple of minutes, like that child who at Christmas longs for his gift from Santa Claus and discovers that it does not exist.

Her heart felt the greatest pain possible, that of that friend who moved away from her like a person who runs for her life without looking back.

Yujin only saw her bouquet of flowers and felt a much greater affliction than she already had beforehand. A sorrow that added to what was already waiting for her at home, one more incentive to feel terrible on the most complicated dates for her along with February 14: Christmas.

She felt sad, empty, with lots of bitterness and a feeling of unease so evident that anyone who passed by her could notice it without asking.

Arriving at the bus stop, Yujin only saw the ground; she did not feel the need to look ahead because her pride was more than hurt, it was already nonexistent.

Far from that school where she had left her happiness and her esteem, she was preparing to take the bus back home knowing what was already waiting for her, like someone condemned to death row who already knows his destiny and cannot do anything to change it.

With resignation and only wishing for the day to end, Yujin takes the bus line that leads to her house.

Once inside, she looks at the ground and enters slowly, looking for the stairs and trying not to let anyone see her sad face, fervently wishing to get to her room to lock herself in and cry for that woman who had broken her heart.

But her plan would have a flaw: her mother had been there, waiting for her to, once again, boast to her daughter about the achievements of her sister, whom she did consider a source of pride.

"Look at me!" exclaimed the mother, who looked at her own daughter with disgust.

"Do you see this? It's the honor roll; Mijoo is there again. "I've lost count of how many times she's there; she really is the pride of the family, my daughter who really shines unlike you... If only you were like her, I wouldn't regret having given birth to you." Eunseo sentenced with a coldness similar to that of an iceberg.

"Second place again... Do you really think your stupid second place is a source of pride?" Eunseo continues to berate her daughter fiercely.

"How long should I keep watching you lose all the first places? You're a failure, you're not a Baek... Baeks always win, that's why I changed my last name when I married your father." "Don't you think he's feeling too frustrated with the piece of shit daughter he has?" Her mother kept on insulting her daughter, who didn't even take the time to respond; she only felt that everything her mother said to her distressed her three times more than what anyone, including Jinsoul, would have said to her.

Tears wanted to come out of her crystal-clear eyes, but Yujin didn't want to show any emotion in front of that woman who, although she considered her mother, Eunseo considered that she wasn't her daughter, but rather a mistake that she couldn't control.

"ANSWER ME!" Eunseo was losing patience with Yujin's lifeless expression, as if she were dead in life. After a few minutes, she said the words she always wanted to say to Yujin.

"Really... every time I see you I feel miserable, I feel like the unluckiest woman in the world. I am thankful every day that Mijoo exists, because if it were up to you I would live all my days thinking about what punishment I pay... for having you."

These words changed Yujin's inert and passive state, who no longer paid any attention to what Eunseo said to her with a clear purpose of vilifying her and looked at her mother with a sad face, with those crystalline tears that brushed her tender cheeks and spread over the rest of her depressed face.

Her mother, who did not have the slightest bit of empathy for her daughter, continued to despise her and did not want to stop.

Mijoo, who was walking down the stairs, listened very carefully to everything that was happening just a few steps below.

So she decided to help her sister and tell her mother to stop, and only at the request of her favorite daughter, she agreed.

Yujin ran to her room and locked herself in, not letting anything or anyone in; she just wanted to be alone and deal with her feelings.

She didn't want to hear from any other human; she hated everything.

As if it were the result of a chain of hatred, her mother passed her hatred on to Yujin and she hated the idea of talking to anyone for the next few hours.

She didn't even look at the posters of her favorite artists because she thought they would "come to life" and start criticizing her like her mother does.

Yujin felt it wasn't fair. She had tried as hard as Mijoo, but she never won first place; instead of recognizing her good work, she was always left humiliated for not being able to win first place on that honor roll.

Then, after a couple of hours, at 3 in the morning on a night as cold as it was depressing, snowflakes landed on her window.

It was snowing and Yujin cried because that moment she so longed to see had finally arrived. That moment when it starts to snow and so she can pour out her feelings on a piece of scrap paper, where her muse, Ahn Jinsoul, would be the main protagonist of her literary works.

Listening to her favorite band in the background, Yujin slowly got the inspiration to capture in her notebook those works that only she could see, since she couldn't conceive the idea that someone else knew what she did.

End of flashback

The police tried to calm Jinsoul, who seemed totally out of her mind.

After a few minutes, she received a sedative and, after a couple of hours, she was transferred to the Nonhyeon-dong police station to be interviewed by Hayoung. In the case of the prosecutors, they couldn't do much in the face of Jinsoul's alienated state and that made the investigative process difficult.

Sitting in a black chair made of a metal-like material, Jinsoul settled in to answer the interrogation that Hayoung had already prepared for her.

On the other hand, Hayoung didn't really know why Jinsoul suddenly confessed to Yujin's death. Everything seemed to indicate that it was just a panic response, but... What if she was telling the truth? That's what the rookie detective asked herself very often.

After offering her a seaweed soup and a glass of juice, as is usually the case in Korean police stations for those being questioned, the endless series of questions began to get to the bottom of this case and to rule out or confirm all the theories that Hayoung might have about Jinsoul being the prime suspect in the crime. "She says she committed the crime... "Why does she say that so desperately?" Hayoung looks at Jinsoul with a watchful and defiant look, as if in her subconscious she wanted to denote that message that she is the authority and that, therefore, she must answer yes or yes with the truth and nothing but honesty to the interrogation.

"I did it, I couldn't save her... that's why I say I did it." "She was going to commit suicide... I wanted to save her, and I couldn't..." Immediately after saying that, Jinsoul feels the tears in her eyes again and continues to remember everything in great detail while confessing everything that happened to the detective.

"When I jumped to try to deflect the bullet, she was pointing the gun at her head... as if she was looking for that point on her head where only 1 shot would be enough to end everything."

Jinsoul cries and just looks sadly at the image of the 2 in an amusement park.

"When I saw her about to commit such madness, I didn't think twice and I jumped... perhaps thinking that the "I would save her and that maybe and just maybe... even if she hit me with the stray bullet, I would take it for all this time that I made her suffer without wanting to. I feel guilty for having hurt her." Jinsoul remarked while her countenance changed as time passed in the interrogation, going from a calm countenance to one full of guilt and bitterness.

"I shouldn't have left her alone... I shouldn't have left her unprotected, to her fate... like her family had left her for not being like her sister." Jinsoul felt more and more sorry for her friend's situation.

"So, you take the blame for her?" "Do you think you can be Mother Teresa?" "We can't blame you for something you didn't do..." Hayoung can't believe what she's hearing.

"Are you sure you didn't do anything?" Chulsoo appears with his lawyers behind him, as if they were his bodyguards.

"She killed my daughter, let her rot in jail." "And if you're not going to do your job, we'll do it." Chulsoo said, furious, looking at Jinsoul with contempt.

"Don't forget, girl, that you and the police live off my hand... Don't bite the hand that feeds you." After saying that threatening phrase, Chulsoo leaves the room with his lawyers.

Jinsoul feels like everything is increasingly lost to her and she just looks at her photos with Yujin in the past, still wondering in her thoughts: "Why did you die, why this way?" "What did you want to achieve with this?".

A question that would not stop tormenting Jinsoul during the break time of the interrogation, where she was alone at a table with a bowl of seaweed soup and a glass of juice, all accompanied by a funereal silence that only increased Jinsoul's desperation and anxiety, who became more and more frustrated without knowing the answer to that question that tormented her mercilessly.

[drmarune]

Josele and Tag

Summary

How Josele discovered Tag is gay this it basically

Josele canty is @loosesodamarble oc

Info:Tag is dyslexic so as I write him like this especially as a child

————————————————

Josele and Morgan are talking together

Morgan:I‘m concerned over Tag in the last time……..he hit a young woman in the face…..just because she flirted whit him ok I understand him because it’s whas not the nice type of flirting but you understand?

Josele:hm I believe you Morgan but Tag don’t like too get flirted on as fare I know as long it’s not out of fun…..hm

Morgan:well I hope he will be ok…..

Josele:he will don’t be scared Morgan“smile at him

—————————

Josele whas just walking in the streets as she see Tag whit a other guy in he’s age but bigger

At first she didn’t think much of it but then touching the guy Tag on intim places Tag looked unsure and flustered

This it

Josele attacked the guy wo screamed up and looking at her as Tag looking perplexed at her the guy running then fast of in panic

Josele:are you ok?! He didn’t do something whit you?!

Tag :Wh-What ya creasy Josele?!!??

Josele looking at tag if he is alright

Tag:Why?! I swear I’m ya fine!!!

Josele:are you really ok?! I will protect you!!!

Tag:you don’t ya need!!!

Josele:okay but…. How did this happen whit the guy? Whas he mad at And Nacht for beating him or so???

Tag:he got beaten???From big Bro??? No No Joserel-Josele No we where at making out…“is a little red…….

Josele just staring Tag making out whit a other guy???

Tag see her question face: dear Josele I like guy‘s…….

Josele:what???

Tag:I like guy’s in a romantic and sexy ya way not woman…….

Josele:okay I support you??? This would explain something…….

Tag:thank you??? Don’t tell ya this around people don’t like gay ya gul- guys…..even if my parents are fine whit it…..

Josele:wait you parents know??? And they are fine???

Tag:yes? They are cainda ass€olse but they don’t give a shi€ if m I gay

Josele:wow didn’t see this coming…..but I’m here for you too I promise Tag“smile

Tag smile:thhank you….“smile

Josele smiles back at him:do Morgan and Nacht know???

Tag:No Big Bro‘s don’t know……b-but you can ya tell him I mean Them……..b-but you are fine whit lit? It?

Josele smile at him :of curse Tag you are my friend of curse

Tag smile:thank you

[pocket-luv101]

Flowers Lost to Time // Chapter 1

Fandom: Genshin Impact Ship: CynoNari

Summary: Each Valuka Shuna are blessed with a mark that will tell them who their soulmate is. Tighnari has a flower tattoo but he couldn’t recognize what it is. (CynoNari, Soulmates AU)

(Ch.1) // Ch.2

“Papa, is this flower a Sumeru rose? I saw a picture of it in a textbook.” Tighnari traced his chubby finger over the rose on his father’s hand. For his eighth birthday, his father gifted him an encyclopedia and it sparked an interest in plants. He would spend hours in his parents’ study and read every book he could find. There were times he wished that he wished he had a Dendro vision so he could create a vine ladder and reach the higher shelves.

“You’re learning quickly. This is a rose.” His father patted his head and the praise made Tighnari grin proudly. “Your mother gave me one on our first anniversary and that’s how I knew she was the one. Us Valuka Shuna have a mark that can tell them who their soulmate is. Valuka Shuna are born with a tattoo that will be the first flower our soulmate gives us.”

“It’s the first flower they give you. But what if someone aside from Mama gave you a rose for the first time? Will they become your soulmate? Do I have to marry the first person who gives me flowers? What if someone gives me a bouquet of different flowers? How would I know?” Tighnari voiced each question as they came to mind but the overwhelming amount didn’t bother his father.

His father brushed his ear and patiently explained: “I already thought your mother was the woman for me. The rose only made me more confident of that. It’s a strange predicament. The heart knows so much but it can take a while for you to understand. More perplexing, it can be something as simple as a flower to make you realize the truth.”

“I still don’t understand how a tattoo can tell me who I love. The gods can see our fate but they’re awfully vague. Why don’t they just write the person’s name instead of giving us a flower?” Tighnari pouted, clearly unsatisfied with his answer.

“You’re only eight years old and far too young to marry anyone.” He chuckled and turned his hand to show him the Sumeru Rose on his hand. “I hope your soulmate will be a kind person who gives you every flower in Sumeru. That will help your dream of becoming a botanist come true.”

Tighnari pulled his long nightshirt over his body and paused at the tattoo adorning his hip. He recalled the legend his father told him about the flower years ago and how it would help him find his soulmate. At the time, he had many questions about love and soulmates. Now, the most pressing question was: What species was the flower?

He didn’t recognize the flower even though he was a renowned scholar from the Amurta Darshan. He drew a copy of the flower and showed it to his master and peers. Yet, no one could confidently name the flower. He thought someone would know from its distinct design, five green petals shaped like diamonds. His search eventually came to an end as he moved onto other research projects.

Occasionally, he would try to discover the identity of the flower on a whim. Tighnari’s fascination with plants only grew since he was eight years old but there was something different about his tattoo. He couldn’t explain his determination to find the flower. Romance wasn’t a focus for him since his job as a Forest Watcher and research kept him busy.

Cyno came to mind and his heart stumbled over the thought. Tighnari quickly pushed the thought away and then tugged his shirt down over his tattoo. When they were in the Akademiya, Tighnari had a crush on Cyno. He forced himself to set those feelings aside. He recalled the night he overheard a girl confess to Cyno. I cannot accept your confession. For the General Mahamatra, a relationship with anyone in the Akademiya will be a conflict of interest.

His words to the girl broke Tighnari’s heart as if he were the one being rejected. He tried to console himself that it was better that he never tried to start a relationship with him. They became friends and he learned how important the role of General Mahamatra was to Cyno. He couldn’t ask him on a date even after he left the Akademiya. A criminal could use their relationship to threaten Cyno. Tighnari was happy that he was able to stay by his side at least.

The door opened behind him and Tighnari saw Cyno enter through the reflection of his mirror. Cyno’s face became red and his gaze dropped to the ground. Without looking up, he quickly closed the door behind him. His reaction confused Tighnari because they were close enough with each other that they would often enter each other’s homes without knocking. Then, Cyno said: “I’m sorry, Nari, I didn’t know you were changing.”

“This is why I tell you to knock. I’m almost finished changing so come in. I was about to go to bed but I’m guessing that you’re visiting me for something important.” Tighnari said and slipped on his pants. He knew that Cyno wouldn’t visit him so late at night unless he wanted to check on them or if he was injured. Since he didn’t appear hurt, it was likely the former.

Cyno finally lifted his face when Tighnari took his hand and pulled him away from the door. His hut was small and it only took a few steps for them to reach his kitchen. He set down a flower on the table. “I was visiting my father when I overheard his conversation with Sage Naphis. He mentioned you were looking for a flower with diamond petals. I saw this flower on my walk and I picked it for you. Although, I don’t know if this is the specific flower you wanted.”

“This is a hibiscus. It’s beautiful. Liyue uses this flower to make paper.” A fond smile spread across Tighnari’s lips as he picked up the hibiscus and listed trivia facts. Cyno could listen to him for hours. While the flower was commonly found in tropical areas like the rainforest, Tighnari carried it as if it were made of diamonds. He placed the single flower in a vase set on his desk. “Thank you for the flower, Cyno. The flower I was searching for is green.”

“I travel often so I might come across the flower. I’ll bring it back for you.”

“You don’t have to go through all that effort, Cyno. I’m uncertain if the flower I’m looking for even exist.” Tighnari didn’t tell him the legend of the tattoo on his hip. He thought that it was pointless to do so. “So, what else did you want to tell me? Someone as busy as you wouldn’t visit me in the middle of the night just to deliver a flower. You would’ve waited until lunch when we’re both free.”

They sat across from each other and Cyno could see the dark bags under Tighnari’s eyes. He felt a tinge of guilt that his visit would keep him from sleeping. He did the work of a Forest Watcher, scholar and caretaker all at once. “I won’t make you stay up much longer, Tighnari.”

“Do you need to return to the city immediately? If not, it might be better for you to stay overnight instead of hiking back in the dark. That’s my advice as your friend and not just a Forest Watcher. It’ll also be better to not rush through our conversation if you need to talk to me about something urgent. Don’t worry about me staying up late. I’m used to it.”

“That’s the problem.” Cyno muttered beneath his breath yet Tighnari heard him. Unfortunately, any rebuttal he could’ve made were stifled by his own yawn.

“Can we compromise and say that we both need rest tonight?”

Tighnari stretched his arms above his head and his shirt lifted enough for Cyno to see his smooth skin. Cyno knew only a few inches lower would be the unique tattoo on his hip. He had imagined himself biting that mark more times than he should. When he accidentally walked into him changing, he looked away out of respect. He continued to avoid meeting Tighnari’s eyes to hide how flustered he made him.

Cyno forced the flower tattoo out of his mind and turned his attention back to the reason for his visit. “I was thinking about your desert expedition to find the City of Sapphire.”

“You can’t go with me? Do the Matra need you to oversee an investigation?” While Tighnari tried to hide his disappointment, Cyno could easily read his expression. He reached across the table and laid his hand over Tighnari’s tense fingers.

“No, I arranged for my subordinates to take over any upcoming cases so I’ll have the next few weeks free. I came to talk to you because I think it’ll be better that I go by myself. The desert is dangerous and the heat is difficult for you to handle. I will bring back as many things as I can find for you. I only need a list of things to search for in the ruins.”

“I’ve been planning this expedition for months, Cyno. The City of Sapphire could have a way to cure Collei’s Eleazar. Do you think I’ll stay behind? You’re intelligent but your expertise is leylines, the gods, and Genius Invokation. I’m a Forest Watcher and doctor. I can find the information at a glance.” Tighnari argued.

When he started his research into the City of Sapphire, he was curious about his ancestorial home. Then, he read that the city was once plagued with a disease similar to Eleazar. They were able to recover and continue to thrive for another hundred years. The records didn’t say how they cured Eleazar though. Tighnari wasn’t deterred. While it was unlikely, there could be medical documents in the City of Sapphire that could help Collei.

“We’ve been to the desert before and this time shouldn’t be different. You asked me to take care of Collei and the expedition could be our best chance to cure Eleazar. This can help other patients too.” Tighnari didn’t understand why Cyno would suddenly change his mind. Cyno cared for Collei as a sister the same way he did. He bit his lip and added: “It’s dangerous for either of us to go alone. That’s why I wanted us to go together. However, if you plan to go on this expedition by yourself, I will too.”

Cyno knew that it would be difficult to convince Tighnari that he shouldn’t go on the expedition. He thought he prepared himself for an argument until he looked into Tighnari’s steady eyes. He was braver and more strong-willed than most of his Matra. Although, those traits drew Cyno to him, he didn’t want him to run into danger.

“You’re my best friend and Collei’s teacher.” His words only made Tighnari’s frown deepen. Cyno gently caught Tighnari’s chin between his fingers and lifted his face so their eyes met. He ran his thumb over his lower lip, slightly swollen after he bit it. “If something happens to you while we’re exploring the ruins, I could never forgive myself.”

“Have you considered how I feel?” Tighnari gripped his nightshirt in a tight fist. His hand hovered over the flower tattoo on his hip. “You’re always so quick to endanger yourself in the name of the General Mahamatra. You don’t have to go into the desert alone to protect me. That’s the last thing I want! We can protect each other if we travel together.”

His green eyes pleaded with Cyno far more than words could. Even though he had a thousand logical reasons why it was better for him to go on the expedition alone, it was difficult for him to say no to him. He only wanted Tighnari to be safe and happy. The dejection and disappointment in his expression made him worry that he could be hurting him. While Cyno would be reassured of Tighnari’s safety, it wouldn’t be the same for him waiting in the rainforest for his return.

“The desert is dangerous.”

“So is the rainforest that I patrol every day.”

“You could get hurt.” The words were more for himself than Tighnari. Cyno tried to remind himself of why he needed to convince him to change the expedition. Tighnari took Cyno’s fingers from his chin and moved it so his hand cradled his face. He didn’t let go of his hand as he turned his face into his palm. Their fingers brushed together and Cyno could feel the calluses he had from years wielding a bow.

“That won’t happen. In an unlikely scenario where you’re hurt, I’ll treat your wounds and bring you back here. I expect you to do the same for me.”

[dearaliya]

The Cruel Prince: An exercise in self preservation

Dear Aliya,

Do not trust the booktok girlies, they lied.

I'll give you a synopsis, it'll help you understand what I'm talking about later without having to force yourself through the book too.

Jude was seven when her parents were murdered and she and her two sisters were stolen away to live in the treacherous High Court of Faerie. Ten years later, Jude wants nothing more than to belong there, despite her mortality. But many of the fey despise humans. Especially Prince Cardan, the youngest and wickedest son of the High King.

To win a place at the Court, she must defy him–and face the consequences.

As Jude becomes more deeply embroiled in palace intrigues and deceptions, she discovers her own capacity for trickery and bloodshed. But as betrayal threatens to drown the Courts of Faerie in violence, Jude will need to risk her life in a dangerous alliance to save her sisters, and Faerie itself.

Stomached all that? Great! That's all you should ever know.

I have never, and I do mean never, disliked a book more than I disliked this. The fanart and snippets floating around TikTok and Instagram lured me in and I tried so very very hard to find something in this story to cling to.

There was nothing.

I don't know where I turned wrong here, everyone else seemed to adore the story and everything it encompassed. I just cannot work out why they cared.

The characters were all blatantly insufferable, I cannot think of a single one I was rooting for. The fae world was disjointed and connected oddly to the real world, which is entirely modern. The interactions, all of them, even the most minor between characters were so perplexing and aggravating to read.

Now, I was eager to read some enemy-to-lovers action, I don't mind the bully trope as long as it's done well. Pick on the love interest a little, teasing remarks to hide the affection you don't know how to display just yet. It's rewarding to watch the change occur, to uncover why there was that rift in the first place and watch it close.

This isn't enemies-to-lovers with bullying though.

This is 'I have actively tortured and tried to murder this woman and have no intentions of stopping my friends from doing the same and we will continue to do so eternally oh but I sometimes blush in her presence and wrote her name out a LOT in my diary.'

Cardan is an asshole and not an 'I could fix him' asshole but a through-and-through irredeemable dickhead that made me want to throw the book out when I realised he would be the main love interest. I was aware going into this that there would be a Cruel Prince but this was excessive for the sake of shock value in his grudge against Jude and you want me to believe one day these two end up together? His supposedly redeemable factor is that his brother is constantly abusing him and he doesn't fight back and he's also the youngest and most useless out of a royal line (till a later plot point occurs). That's it.

We're given no reason for why he might like Jude, he just does.

Speaking of Jude Duarte.

What on God's earth is her motivation for staying? What is tying her to the land of the fae? She is blatantly abused, tortured and threatened, no one wants her there and yet she is determined to belong. WHY? The ENTIRE book I was hoping for some fathomable reason as to why she was fighting so hard to stay in the realm of fae and all I could come up with was stubbornness.

I understand wanting to make a point, to earn her place of belonging amongst a group for the sake of power, that leaving would mean that they won, but why should she have ever cared? If she didn't have time for the opinions of these people while they were picking at her insecurities, then why care what they might have thought of her abandoning ship?

Remember this from the synopsis? But as betrayal threatens to drown the Courts of Faerie in violence, Jude will need to risk her life in a dangerous alliance to save her sisters, and Faerie itself.

Yeah, her sister stabbed her in the back for her own chance of belonging so she's really got NO ties to anyone in the fae realm.

Why does she need to risk her life for any of those idiots? What has the faerie court ever done for her? We are given NO reason that she would ever sacrifice anything about herself for this place other than she lives there. DO YOU SEE WHY I'M STRUGGLING TO CARE?

I don't know if she's a better person or a worse one than me because I would have dipped once I saw everything was collapsing and never once looked back.

I will never, ever, read any other book within this series. I don't care if gets better later, it should have been good enough in the first place if it wanted me to continue.

I don't care to see Carden mature and become a better person. I don't care to see Jude accomplish her goals or fail them, whatever they may be. I don't care to watch them awkwardly stumble around one another until they end up in the worst relationship ever committed to paper.

I DON'T CARE. I'M LEAVING THE WAY JUDE SHOULD HAVE.

Nothing more comes to mind, I apologise for you listening to my thoughts. I’ll see you next time, stay well!

Hannah xx

[winterfable]

The unconscious

[...]

Let us now look a little more closely at the ways in which the conscious and unconscious contents of the mind are linked together. Take an example with which everyone is familiar. Suddenly you find you cannot remember what you were going to say next, though a moment ago the thought was perfectly clear. Or perhaps you were about to introduce a friend, and his name escaped you as you were about to utter it. You say you cannot remember; in fact, though, the thought has become unconscious, or at least momentarily separated from consciousness. We find the same phenomenon with our senses. If we listen to a continuous note on the fringe of audibility, the sound seems to stop at regular intervals and then start again. Such oscillations are due to a periodic decrease and increase in one's attention, not to any change in the note.

But when something slips out of our consciousness it does not cease to exist, any more than a car that has disappeared round a corner has vanished into thin air. It is simply out of sight. Just as we may later see the car again, so we come across thoughts that were temporarily lost to us.

Thus, part of the unconscious consists of a multitude of temporarily obscured thoughts, impressions, and images that, in spite ol being lost, continue to influence our conscious minds.

A man who is distracted or “absent-minded" will walk across the room to letch something. He stops, seemingly perplexed ; he has forgotten what he was after. His hands grope about among the objects on the table as if he were sleepwalking; he is oblivious of his original purpose, yet he is unconsciously guided by it. Then he realizes what it is that he wants. His unconscious has prompted him.

If you observe the behavior of a neurotic person, you can see him doing many things that he appears to be doing consciously and purposefully. Yet if you ask him about them, you will discover that he is either unconscious of them or has something quite different in mind. He hears and does not hear; he sees, yet is blind; he knows and is ignorant. Such examples are so common that the specialist soon realizes that unconscious contents of the mind behave as if they were conscious and that you can never be sure, in such cases, whether thought, speech, or action is conscious or not.

It is this kind of behavior that makes so many physicians dismiss statements by hysterical patients as utter lies. Such persons certainly produce more untruths than most of us. but "lie" is scarcely the right word to use. In fact, their mental state causes an uncertainty of behavior because their consciousness is liable to unpredictable eclipse by an interference from the unconscious. Even their skin sensations may reveal similar fluctuations of awareness. At one moment the hysterical person may feel a needle prick in the arm; at the next it may pass unnoticed. If his attention can be focused on a certain point, the whole of his body can be completely anesthetized until the tension that causes this blackout of the senses has been relaxed. Sense perception is then immediately restored. All the time, however, he has been unconsciously aware of what was happening.

The physician can see this process quite clearly when he hypnotizes such a patient. It is easy to demonstrate that the patient has been aware of every detail. The prick in the arm or the remark made during an eclipse of consciousness can be recalled as accurately as if there had been no anesthesia or “forgetfulness."

I recall a woman who was once admitted to the clinic in a state of complete stupor. When she recovered consciousness next day, she knew who she was but did not know where she was, how or why she had come there, or even the date. Vet after I had hypnotized her. she told me whv site had fallen ill. how she had got to the clinic, and who had admitted her. All these details could be verified. She was even able to tell the time at which she had been admitted, because she had seen a clock in the entrance hall. Under hypnosis, her memory was as clear as if she had been completely conscious all the time.

When we discuss such matters, we usually have to draw on evidence supplied by clinical observation. For this reason, main critics assume that the unconscious and all its subtle manifestations belong solely to the sphere of psychopathology. They consider any expression of the unconscious as something neurotic or psychotic, which has nothing to do with a normal mental state. But neurotic phenomena are by no means the products exclusively of disease. They are in fact no more than pathological exaggerations of normal occurrences; it is only because they are exaggerations that they are more obvious than their normal counterparts. Hysterical symptoms can be observed in all normal persons, but they are so slight that they usually pass unnoticed.

Forgetting, for instance, is a normal process, in which certain conscious ideas lose their specific energy because one’s attention has been deflected. When interest turns elsewhere, it leaves in shadow the things with which one was previously concerned, just as a searchlight lights up a new area by leaving another in darkness. This is unavoidable, for consciousness can keep only a few images in full clarity at one time, and even this clarity fluctuates.

But the forgotten ideas have not ceased to exist. Although they cannot be reproduced at will, they are present in a subliminal state just beyond the threshold of recall from which they can rise again spontaneously at any time, often alter many years of apparently total oblivion.

I am speaking here of things we have consciously seen or heard, and subsequently forgotten. But we all see, hear, smell, and taste many things without noticing them at the time, either because our attention is deflected or because the stimulus to our senses is too slight to leave a conscious impression. The unconscious, however, has taken note of them, and such subliminal sense perceptions play a significant part in our everyday lives. Without our realizing it, they influence the way in which we react to both events and people.

An example of this that I found particularly revealing was provided by a professor who had been walking in the country with one of his pupils, absorbed in serious conversation. Suddenly he noticed that his thoughts were being interrupted by an unexpected flow of memories from his early childhood. He could not account for this distraction. Nothing in what had been said seemed to have any connection with these memories. On looking back, he saw that he had been walking past a farm when the first of these childhood recollections had surged up in his mind. He suggested to his pupjl that the should walk back to the point where the fantasies had begun. Once there, he noticed the smell of geese, and instantly he realized that it was this smell that had touched off the flow of memories.

In his youth he had lived on a farm where geese were kept, and their characteristic smell had left a lasting though forgotten impression. As he passed the farm on his walk, he had noticed the smell suhliminally, and this unconscious perception had called back long-forgotten experiences of his childhood. The perception was subliminal, because the attention was engaged elsewhere, and the stimulus was not strong enough to deflect it and to reach consciousness directly. Yet it had brought up the “forgotten” memories.

Such a “cue” or “trigger” effect can explain the onset of neurotic symptoms as well as more benign memories when a sight, smell, or sound recalls a circumstance in the past. A girl, for instance, may be busy in her oflice, apparently in good health and spirits. A moment later she develops a blinding headache and shows other signs of distress. Without consciously noticing it, she has heard the foghorn of a distant ship, and this has unconsciously reminded her of an unhappy parting with a lover whom she has been doing her best to forget.

Aside from normal forgetting, Freud has described several cases that involve the “forgetting” of disagreeable memories — memories that one is only too ready to lose. As Nietzsche remarked, where pride is insistent enough, memory prefers to give way. Thus, among the lost memories, we encounter not a few that owe their subliminal state (and their incapacity to be voluntarily reproduced) to their disagreeable and incompatible nature. The psychologist calls these repressed contents.

A case in point might be that of a secretary who is jealous of one of her employer’s associates. She habitually forgets to invite this person to meetings, though the name is clearly marked on the list she is using. But, if challenged on the point, she simply says she “forgot” or was “interrupted.” She never admits not even to herself the real reason for her omission.

Many people mistakenly overestimate, the role of willpower and think that nothing can happen to their minds that they do not decide and intend. But one must learn to discriminate carefully between intentional and unintentional contents of the mind. The former are derived from the ego personality; the latter, however, arise from a source that is not identical with the ego, but is its “other side.” It is this “other side” that would have made the secretary forget the invitations.

There are many reasons why we forget things that we have noticed or experienced; and there are just as many ways in which they may be recalled to mind. An interesting example is that of cryptomnesia, or “concealed recollection.” An author may be writing steadily to a preconceived plan, working out an argument or developing the line of a story, when he suddenly runs off at a tangent. Perhaps a fresh idea has occurred to him, or a different image, or a whole new sub-plot. If you ask him what prompted the digression, he will not be able to tell you. He may not even have noticed the change, though he has now produced material that is entirely fresh and apparently unknown to him before. Yet it can sometimes be shown convincingly that what he has written bears a striking similarity to the work of another author —a work that he believes he has never seen.

I myself found a fascinating example of this in Nietzsche’s book Thus Spoke Zarathustra, where the author reproduces almost word for word an incident reported in a ship’s log for the year 1686. By sheer chance I had read this seaman’s yarn in a book published about 1835 (half a century before Nietzsche wrote); and when I found the similar passage in Thus Spoke Zarathustra, I was struck by its pectriiar style, which was different from Nietzsche’s usual language. I was convinced that Nietzsche must also have seen the old book, though he made no reference to it. I wrote to his sister, who was still alive, and she confirmed that she and her brother had in fact read the book together when he was 11 years old. I think, from the context, it is inconceivable that Nietzsche had any idea that he was plagiarizing this story. I believe that fifty years later it had unexpectedly slipped into focus in his conscious mind.

In this type of case there is genuine, if unrealized, recollection. Much the same sort of thing may happen to a musician who has heard a peasant tune or popular song in childhood and finds it cropping up as the theme of a symphonic movement that he is composing in adult life. An idea or an image has moved back from the unconscious into the conscious mind.

What I have so far said about the unconscious is no more than a cursory sketch of the nature and functioning of this complex part of the human psyche. But it should have indicated the kind of subliminal material from which the symbols of our dreams may be spontaneously produced. This subliminal material can consist of all urges, impulses, and intentions: all perceptions and intuitions; all rational or irrational thoughts, conclusions, inductions, deductions, and premises; and all varieties of feeling. Any or all of these can take the form of partial, temporary, or constant unconsciousness.

Such material has mostly become unconscious because- in a manner of speaking —there is no room for it in the conscious mind. Some of one’s thoughts lose their emotional energy and become subliminal (that is to say, they no longer receive so much of our conscious attention) because they have come to seem uninteresting or irrelevant, or because there is some reason why we wish to push them out of sight.

It is, in fact, normal and necessary for us to “forget” in this fashion, in order to make room in our conscious minds for new impressions and ideas. If this did not happen, everything we experienced would remain above the threshold of consciousness and our minds would become impossibly cluttered. This phenomenon is so widely recognized today that most people who know anything about psychology take it for granted.

But just as conscious contents can vanish into the unconscious, new contents, which have never yet been conscious, can arise from it. One may have an inkling, for instance, that something is on the point of breaking Hito consciousness— that “something is in the air,” or that one “smells a rat.” The discovery that the unconscious is no mere depository of the past, but is also full of germs of future psychic situations and ideas, led me to my own new approach to psychology. A great deal of controversial discussion has arisen around this. But it is a fact that, in addition to memories from a long-distant conscious past, completely new thoughts and creative ideas can also present themselves from the unconscious thoughts and ideas that have never been conscious before. Thev grow up from the dark depths of the mind like a lotus and form a most important part of the subliminal psyche.

We find this in everyday life, where dilemmas are sometimes solved by the most surprising new propositions; many artists, philosophers, and even scientists owe some of their best ideas to inspirations that appear suddenly from the unconscious. The ability to reach a rich vein of such material and to translate it effectively into philosophy, literature, music, or scientific discovery is one of the hallmarks of what is commonly tailed genius.

We can find clear proof of this lad in the history ol science itself. For example, the French mathematician Poincare and the chemist Kekule owed important scientific discoveries fas thev themselves admit to sudden pictorial “revelations" from the unconscious. The so-called "mystical" experience of the French philosopher Descartes involved a similar sudden revelation in which he saw in a flash the "order ol all sciences.” The British author Robert Louis Stevenson had spent years looking for a story that would fit his "strong sense of man's double being," when the plot of Dr. JekylI and Mr. Hyde was suddenly revealed to him in a dream.

Later I shall describe- in more detail how such material arises from the unconscious, and I shall examine the form in which it is expressed. At the moment I simply want to point out that the capacity of the human psyche to produce such new material is particularly significant when one is dealing with dream symbolism, for I have found again and again in my professional work that the image's and ideas that dreams contain cannot possibly be explained solely in terms of memory. They express new thoughts that have never yet reached the threshold of consciousness.

Longest continuous vocal note - Guinness World Records - YouTube

—Tomado de "Man and His Symbols" de Carl Gustav Jung

[cymorilcinnamonroll]

Lucifer Makes Minimum Wage at Trader Joe's

Eve forces her Gen Z situationship World of Warcraft addict, Lucifer, to move out of her basement and work at Trader Joe's. Lucifer discovers capitalism, the woes of retail, and tries to implement 401ks in Hell in time for a jolly Easter.

Work Text:

“Lucifer, can you stop molting? I have to study for my dissertation,” Eve said, examining hawk skulls in her makeshift kitchen laboratory as her immortal demon boyfriend was preening.

“I can’t help it, Eveling-

“THAT’S NOT MY NAME.”

Lucifer shot her poison blue irises: “Heh. Well, you see, ‘tis my brother Christ’s time to be Harrowed in Hell, and I must suffer our wager-

“That’s great Lu, but you’re late on our half of rent for our townhouse. Grad school TAing doesn’t pay well, and you keep ordering Chinese takeout.”

“I am paid in blood, Eve.” Lucifer strummed his guitar, his lithe, tall, pale form dressed in ripped, faded acid wash jeans, an old black band tee, and combat boots.

“Could you get a job at Trader Joe’s, Lu?” Eve looked at him under her fringe of blonde bangs. She said it kindly. “You’re kind of a bum.”

He harrumphed, strumming a vibrato. “But Beelzebub and I have band practice,” Lucifer complained, his long, dark black hair a shadowy fringe on his face.

“I’ll let you get a hound finally, if you work.”

“DEAL.”

*

Lucifer had trouble fitting his bat wings under a peppy Trader Joe’s shirt. He grunted, annoyed that his talons kept shredding the Two Buck Chuck he was trying to bag.

“You’re such a handsome young teenager, darling,” a bespectacled elderly Korean auntie said in dulcet tones, handing him some tacos to bag.

“Thanks, but I’m older than God’s Light upon Creation.” He smiled seductively. “Say, Jeihon. How about I give your wastrel son a winning lottery ticket to take care of you in your old age in return for your soul?”

“That’s okay, little boy. I have a 401k and pension.”

Lucifer rang up the tacos. “What is this strange talk? 401k? Pension? I have never heard of such odious languages and portents and omens.”

Jeihon patted his clawed hands. “Yes, child, well, they came with being Postmaster. Have a good day, and maybe cut your hair.”

“Long hair in hell signals virility.”

“Yes, I am sure virility is important to attract girls at your middle school. Here, have this you precious boy. I make them at church.” She slipped a jade bead bracelet onto his wrist with a meditation symbol and bell on it, then left, shuffling off with her tacos.

“Perplexing,” Lucifer said, turned in his timecard, then mounted his Hellbeast and rode the midnight road of sinners and burning souls back to his townhouse in Centreville.

*

“Eve, what is a 401k.”

Eve looked past pinnate feathers from a dissected, frozen toucan after comparing them. “Oh, you know Lu. Retirement.”

Lucifer frowned over cooking ramen. “The woman at Trader Joe’s said the strangest thing: the American government not only provides her contributions to her 401k, but a pension.”

Eve looked up from her calipers. “Oh, well, so does the Smithsonian and my grad department. It’s pretty standard, honey.”

“I would think to implement a “401k” and “pension” with my Prime Minister Beelzebub in Hell.”

Eve gently set her studies down, then went into the kitchen to chop chives for the ramen. “That’s very forward-thinking as Emperor of Hell. I was also very impressed when you stopped torturing souls after I said they could be better put to use at assembly lines for pitchforks.”

“Our pitchfork-to-coal-pipeline rate has done well under your auspices, allowing fire imps supplies to keep the fires of Hell burning.”

She threw the chopped chives into his pot as he stirred in sauce, then kissed him on his pale neck. He burbled with a moan, then pinned her on the floor, had his way with her as much as she devoured him, right there as usual on the tile.

Just in time, they came for the ramen to almost bubble over. Then, Lucifer and Eve did facemasks, ate mint chocolate chip Ben and Jerry’s, and watched Twilight.

*

“What do you mean, a retirement system? You’re beginning to sound like an idiot human,” Beelzebub mused, laughing as they smoked an apple bong in Eve’s garage.

“Pass it, bro,” Lucifer said, and Beelzebub withdrew the apple bong from his mandible and strummed his white Gibson, plucking an arpeggio.

They jammed, then discussed retirement. It wasn’t long until Penemue approved the new system in his Clerical Department, and Lucifer and Beelzebub couldn’t imagine Hell without a guaranteed pension plan for its most valued elderly demon employees.

*

At the Harrowing of Hell, Christ and Lucifer were playing Mario Kart as they both shed their wings and drank Pilsners in Eve’s basement.

“Fuck I hate molting,” Jesus said.

“Yeah no shit,” Lucifer sighed, rubbing his scales on his wings. “Fuck Rainbow Road.”

“Let’s do Peach Beach, dude,” Jesus said, eating some Cheetos. “Fuck the Harrowing.”

Eve wandered in, a kestrel feather in hand, plate of strawberry cake in the other. “Desert, darlings.” She handed it to them.

“Thanks, Chavah,” Jesus said, saluting her. “Say, you’re really humanizing my twin Satan. Seriously. No more torture. A pension system in Hell. Next, he’ll become Christian.”

Lucifer fingered Jiehon’s church-made bracelet, smiling at the cool touch of jade under his talons: “I think I prefer Buddhism, and the faith I find in people working at Trader Joe’s.”

“It was all him, Yesh.” Eve smiled, muttered about bird mating, then left, her glasses askew.

“I kind of like humans, after all,” Lucifer admitted. “But I hate Taylor Swift. Eve won’t shut the fuck up about her.”

“Hell yeah, man. Doom metal all the way.” Jesus fist bumped him, and they ate

Strawberry

Cake.

[the-cat-chat]

March 23, 2024

Mamma Mia! (2008)

A young woman invites three of her free-spirited mom's former flings to her Greek island wedding, hoping to discover which one of them is her father.

Warning: Review may contain spoilers. Read at your own risk.

JayBell: I'm gonna get straight to the point. I did not like this movie. I actually don't mind musicals. But in this movie, the songs did not make the story better. In fact, several times it felt like the plot moved weirdly in order to justify the addition of some of the songs. And the songs and their lyrics didn't always match the plot.

The decision making of the characters bothered me so much. The mom? She just never makes the effort to find out the father in the 20+ years? It feels selfish to do that, especially when the daughter really wants to know.

And the daughter seems incredibly immature. It's as if she's thirteen and not a grown adult. I'm so glad she doesn't get married at the end because her relationship with her fiance isn't stable. She doesn't communicate with him at all and they are supposed to be getting married?

Speaking of marriage, why on earth does the mom get married in the end to this virtual stranger? This stranger who left her in the past to go marry someone else (is he a cheater or something?? please explain).

The only character who I think is interesting is Colin Farrell. But overall, I don't think the movie is very funny, the plot isn't logical, the music doesn't match, the characters aren't sympathetic.

I found the entire experience frustrating. And I'm perplexed that sooooo many people think this is the best movie ever made. It has to be about nostalgia.

Rating: 3/10 cats 🐈

Anzie: I can’t believe I picked this. Ok I knew there was singing, but it’s ABBA that’s a totally different ball game. And sure there were times the music made me want to shove myself off a Greek cliffside- but more so it was the plot. I mean just wow. I don’t know. I want to know how all these really great actors read the script and said “this is awesome I’ll do it,” and just maybeeee bc it’s 2008 I’ll forgive them, but I’m scarred a little more each time I think about it.

The whole problem I have is with the plot. And that’s a big problem. There’s just too much. First really bad idea inviting not one, not two, but three of your mom’s ex lovers at random (shocked they showed) to your wedding that’s in like 24 hours. I need more time to get motivated to shave my legs- let alone play Jerry Springer in Greece. Next, let’s just glaze over Dominic Cooper’s very lizard boy performance- I have no clue why that’s the vibe I’m getting but dare I say dump the lizard boy. Next, the dads. I don’t know how to feel- really hate Sam’s story, could really care less about Bill? I don’t even remember if that’s his name. And Harry- I just love Colin Firth and my deep rooted love for What a Girl Wants will never die. He gets a pass. Now this mother. That could care less about figuring out which man fathered your child. Bc it undermines what she did alone. Out of choice?? Like I would love to know the backstory too on the fact that she named Sophie after Bill’s aunt there on the island and got her money???? But we pretty much know she’s Sam’s right? Since they were together longer?? And Sophie draws in the same exact style as him???? Right. Riiiggght. Ok I’m done - can’t believe they never say who it is or get a dna test. But whatever.

And what takes the cake? The wedding. Just really. I’m mad now thinking about this movie. All of it. And I have to say- this is awful and the true winner of ABBA movies is very clearly Muriel’s Wedding and I don’t really remember all of it bc I saw over 10 years ago but guess what - you even get Toni Collette, so pls, don’t even try to outmatch her.

Rating: 2/10 Cats 🐈 (1 for the Mamma Mia song, .5 for Colin Firth and .5 for that insane fever dream closing dance number)

[adamwatchesmovies]

Shutter (2004)

Shutter makes up for its occasionally scrappy filmmaking with surprising twists and a conclusion that burns itself into your memory. It’s been a while since I’ve seen the Hollywood remake but I remembered enough to “know” what was going to happen. Despite this, I was drawn in by the mystery and jumped in my seat enough times to call this Thai horror film a success.

Driving home after a friend’s party, Jane (Natthaweeranuch Thongmee) hits a woman with her car. Her photographer boyfriend Tun (Ananda Everingham) convinces Jane to keep driving. Soon after, Tun discovers strange shadows and images in his photographs. It seems the woman they left dead on the road has come back to make them pay.

Directed by Banjong Pisanthanakun and Parkpoom Wongpoom, Shutter doesn’t deviate much from the "J-horror" formula. The spirit appears intermittently, prompting the protagonists to gather clues about the apparition's past. They think they've found a way to appease it, but then there's a twist, etc. What makes it successful nonetheless is the way these elements are handled. Some of the scares are less “fill the room with dread” and more “quick, shocking images” but the ghost (Achita Sikamana) is still creepy. Seeing her bathed in red light as she emerges from a chemical bath inside a darkroom is unnerving. Jane is likeable despite her transgression at the beginning and there’s just something about the movie that makes you feel uneasy - in a good way. You want to know what’s going on and the more you learn about the girl, the hungrier you are for answers.

Certain aspects of photography itself help make Shutter work. That moment of uncertainty between the flash and the polaroid picture developing, or between the paper being dunked into the chemical bath and the details coming into focus builds great suspense. The camera puts us in the shoes of the photographer every time a shot is snapped. They look through the viewfinder and click the button. From there, either the coast is clear, or the ghost is right in front of them. Either way, you're sweating.

Though an element of the conclusion requires you to kind of know what social norms are like in Thailand, it isn’t so foreign that you can’t understand why the characters are behaving the way they are and everything surrounding it is upsetting in a very human, very universal way. The final scene is so twisted you kind of want to smile but you’re still reeling from the horrors that preceded it and won’t be able to. So often, horror films over-explain or lose steam towards the end. Shutter ramps up the horror and then concludes as the terror is at its peak.

You can see why Hollywood opted to remake Shutter. Some of the performances aren’t quite convincing, you can see how it could be made scarier and unlike other tales of this kind, relocating the story to another country would be easy. The fact that it turned out so awful is now even more perplexing. So what if you’ll have to read subtitles? Stick with this Shutter. (Original Thai with English subtitles, August 13, 2021)

[levi-ethan]

Got this idea from a Phantom-Red Robin Clone Children AU.

Amity Park could evolve into one of those hidden magic cities like Themyscira or Atlantis. Rumors has it that the residents have a deep bond for the supernatural dead and coexist with each other. The ppl have grown slightly elf-ish (liminal) after being exposed to their personal ecto-atmosphere. Their average abilities gave them empath abilities, death-sensing, ability to hide presence, floating a few feet off the ground, and the basic slightly enhanced abilities (strength, hearing, etc). They dont gain personal/outlandish powers until their teen years, bc of hormones and wild teens and stuff, where their powers will be connected to their pseudo-Obsession. Amity Parkers r also resilient and pretty wild in how they play, adopting typical ghost social bonding, but eveeyone agrees to keep "rough-playing" to a minimum.

Batman would gain anurysm once he discovers the town rich in Lazarus Waters but learns surprisingly detailed xplanation abt them. Red Hood could volunteer to join Batman in his visit and everyone immediately clocks Red Hood and his corrupted ecto. They heal Jason and the Batfam is forever grateful.

Ofc, for real, the JL hears rumors abt the town and working with JLD, prepare for the first impression protocal. Wonder Woman and Arthur r excited on discovering another civilization connected to supernatural.

The town has changed over the years. the heroes r suprised at how casual they r in showcasing their powers; a nerd float-lying quietly while reading, several bulky teens sliding down a hill of jagged rocks, a fashionista teen girl literally spitting fire in a blonde teen boy's face for an insensitive comment.

The JL/D ambassadors r naturally weary in how casual the powers r but their soothed when theyre shown the Coloseum where ghosts and liminals go to throw down. It also acts as a sportfield, rage room, and the occasional tournament (basic rules of killing and maiming r established).

The townsppl r well-connected and coopertive with each other despite the lack of official mayor position, tho they r perplexed when xplained that town meetings and leadership r discussed by, not only skills and influence but also "those with an actual sane mind" (rule est. by urs truly, Jasmine Fenton).

The residents xplain that their town actually came from another dimension and their government apparently declaring official genocide on anyone "contaminated with ectoplasm".

(I know their city is a modern setting, but I like to imagine the JL misunderstood and just thot their og dimension in a fantasy setting, with witch-hunt situation)

During their visit, the heroes also gain keen insight of the apparent ectoplasm and supernatural that interact in their world, like Gotham apparently having a city spirit named, Lady Gotham aka Mama Gothi, and declaribg the Bats and Birds her personal knights. They also discovered the curse caused by the rotten ecto and negative emotions in the city and offered to help cleanse the rotten ecto. Batman is more than happy to accept, despite further inquiry.

One of the things the JL found baffling and utterly hilarious is their unphased attitude towards aliens, magic, metas, and world-ending apocalypses.

They even got tha chance to meet the resident hero/protector Phantom.

A liminal city

When Amity Park was transported to the DC universe, no one outside noticed anything immediately. No new city suddenly appeared on the map.

Instead, Amity remained in a nebulous space a bit to the left of reality, able to connect many disparate locations, if only you follow the right path.

You take a wrong turn in an alley and suddenly emerge in a whole new city that wasn’t there moments before. Another stretch of wandering and you find yourself exiting into an entirely different city miles away from where you started. You never notice any sudden shift as if you passed through a portal, yet space clearly must have distorted somewhere.

Amity is a waypoint, an in-between.

Or, if you will, a liminal space.

[littlebugs]

lady ren

summary: you're kylo ren's wife. the resistance thinks he's taking advantage of you, but little do they know... warnings: reader goes by she/her pronouns, short reader, major character death, no y/n use, reader was a jedi, kylo ren is a warning himself.

(my works are diverse to all races and ethnic backgrounds, as a mixed race girlie i feel yall's pain my fellow poc's)

a/n: i've been gone far to long, but i've discovered the beauty called kylo ren. also he looks so hot in that gif.... love dat emo space daddy.

When Rey first saw you, you were on Jakku. Surrounded by The Knights of Ren, you looked tiny, your arm latched onto Kylo's waist as he towered over you, looking brooding in his mask. You had vanished shortly after, but Rey had gotten a glance at you. Beautiful. Shiny hair, glowing skin. But not...evil. You didn't look like you belonged with the First Order. In fact, you gave off an aura somewhat like a Jedi.

Little did they know... you had been. You and Kylo were both trained under Luke Skywalker to become Jedi, and had become close friends, although Skywalker had tried to split you up. The darkness in Ben had slowly grown into you, and the night that Luke tried to kill him was the breaking point. You had ran and joined the First Order. At first you kept mostly to yourself. Following Ben- now Kylo, wherever he went. As he slowly gained respect in the First Order, and caught attention of Supreme Leader Snoke, so did you. You were both praised for leaving the Jedi, and soon people became afraid of Kylo... but they might as well have been more scared of you.

You were quiet, but you were also funny, even in the gravest of situations, which was somewhat disconcerting. Although you usually listened, rather than talked, when you did have something to say, everyone listened. Not to mention the fact that you bested some of the First Order's most prized soldiers. You were Kylo's closest confidant, his only friend, and the only one who could calm him down (especially when he decided to wreak havoc on some poor lab tech's control panel.)

It was no surprise when he asked for your hand in marriage, and you got engaged. Kylo wanted the wedding to be perfect, waiting to become officially married until you could both return to his home planet, Chandrila. But there was much to do before that.

Rey told Leia and Han of their son's mysterious mistress. The beautiful woman, standing in the heat of Jakku. Of course, they were shocked, at the mere thought of their son having... anyone. But intead of elation, as a mother might usually feel for a son, General Organa felt worry. She had no idea who this woman was, if her son was using her, or if it could be the other way around.

Han had been worried too. But it was his nature to be more curious. So when he first saw you, watching from a bridge above, guarded by two of The Knights of Ren, he had to wave, and you waved right on back. You tapped the ring on your finger and smiled, doing a little dance. But wherever you were, Kylo was always nearby, and as you watched Kylo storm onto the bridge to see his father, you grimaced and pointed at the flurry of darkness.

Rey and Finn watched you, perplexed, as to how someone could take the entire situation so lightly. "Who does she think she is?" Finn had asked, slightly annoyed. "I don't know" Rey replied simply, watching intently as Kylo approached his father, and you leaned over the railing slightly smiling.

Kylo turned back to look up at you, just before approaching his Han, and you audibly giggled. Rey had scoffed. Rey and Finn's eyes bounced between the scene unfolding before them, with you, talking quietly to the two knights, Ushar and Vircrul, and Kylo and Han, seemingly... rekindling?

And finally... Kylo took his helmet off. It dropped to the ground. He quickly looked at you, and you winked, biting your lip. Vircrul probably snorted (but he would never admit it.) And just as Kylo was about to shockingly give his lightsaber to his father...

Rey and Finn watched in horror as the lightsaber went through Hans. They were both frozen in shock, and looking up, expecting you to see the same. But you weren't terrified. You weren't even shocked. You simply smiled down on Kylo, and made your way down to see him. As Han's body fell of the bridge, you squealed in delight. You picked up Kylo's mask, rose up on your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the nose, and simply placed his helmet on his head again.

As Rey rushed to escape, followed by Chewie and Finn, she thought she couldn't have been more wrong about the Lady Ren.

[acewithapaintbrush]

"My dad has the hots for your dad!"

Amity can only stare as Hunter slams his hands down on the table she is working at. He glares at her with narrow eyes and a mouth pressed firmly into a thin line. The perfect picture of determination and confidence. 

"What. Did you just say?" 

He immediately deflates at her pointed and icy tone. His hands leave her table and fidget with his overalls and hair instead while he squirms from side to side, eyes averted and cheeks blushing. 

"I-uhm. I read that in one of Mama Camila's books. It- well, I mean, it means-" 

Amity cuts him off. "I know what it means. Didn't Camila forbid you from reading them?" 

Them being the small paperbacks with the half naked humans on the front. Usually a woman in distress with a very well built male, rescuing her from certain doom with wet hair and big abs. The first time Camila had caught Hunter reading one of them she'd almost burst a blood vessel and ripped it right out of his hands. 

"Nonononono," she had chanted and hugged a perplexed Hunter to her chest, carding a hand through his hair. "Those books are way too spicy for an innocent, cute boy like you!" 

Hunter huffs and puffs. "I'm an adult. She can't tell me what to read." At Amity's raised eyebrow he mutters "And she didn't find the one hidden under my mattress." 

He shakes his head and takes her shoulders to shake her a little. She allows it, 'cause she can see how agitated he is. "But that's not the point! Darius has… he likes your dad. As in like-like! And we gotta figure out how we feel about that." 

Amity thinks about Darius. The dashing rebel, who had been pulling the strings of an uprising in the shadows from the start. A headstrong abomination user. He would definitely be a big step up from Odalia, that's for sure. 

She imagines Darius as her father's new partner and discovers that she is more than okay with that. 

Amity is not naive. She knows her father needs a headstrong partner at his side, someone who is not afraid to take the reins in a relationship. Not like Odalia, who's taken that to mean that she should micromanage every facet of his life and turn him into someone he is not, but someone who reminds her father to eat and to leave work alone every once in a while. 

"I approve." Amity says and seeing Hunter's desolate expression narrows her eyes. "You got a problem with my dad?" 

"What?" Hunter lets her shoulders go as if they have burned him. "No, of course not! He's super cool! I just… Arrrrrg!" He rapidly runs his hands through his hair. "I just don't know if I can handle a second parental figure!"

"Uhhh."

He starts walking up and down in front of her, Waffles flying after him with happy little trills. "Things with Darius are good right now. He told me to call him Dad and it's… It's yeah, you know? But it's also a bit awkward sometimes, you know? The only father figure I ever had before… Well. And we are still trying to find our rhythm, you know? How am I supposed to deal with another parent right now?"

"Hunter!" Amity has to shout to get him to stop. She can't believe she is having this conversation right now. "Hunter. You do know that you have like, four parental adults in your life. Don't you?" 

He blinks at her and his blank face tells her everything she needs to know. She wants to face-palm so bad right now. "What?" 

Amity starts counting on her hand. "You call Camila Mama Camila." 

"Wha- But that's just-", he splutters. Amity talks right over him. 

"Eda calls you her Fledgling at least once a week and she and Raine are kinda a packaged deal. Grandma and Grandpa Clawthorne call you son so often, I don't even know if they know your real name. Every time Lilith fusses over your scars she mutters 'my poor boy' under her breath. And let's not forget Willow's parents who took one look at you and had the adoption papers ready." Amity looks at her hands, which have barely been enough to count on. "Oh look at that. Not four but eight, actually."

Hunter looks gobsmacked and not a little teary eyed. Amity pats his shoulders, just a little relieved that he has apparently forgotten about their parents budding romance over this new revelation. She'd rather not get involved in that for as long as possible. 

"Face it, Hunter. You are pretty much public son number one at this point." 

🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦

There is no reason for this except that I had the image of hunter saying "my dad has the hots for your dad" and me running with it

[musingmemories]

The outside world is a dangerous place, Rapunzel. Every time Mother gave her the strict reminder, it sent a shudder down Rapunzel's spine, anxiously watching the woman leave and admiring her bravery for venturing off into the unknown. Risking her life every time just so they could have a happy home filled with food and comfort, and on Rapunzel's birthday, paint so she could continue her art, one of the many hobbies she'd found and adored to pass the time the last eighteen years to prevent herself from being bored out of her mind.

It was safer for her in the tower.

It. was. safest.

But despite knowing the dangers that lay beyond the stone window, stories below with her hair the only way up or down... there was always a nagging curiosity. How bad could it really be? Because it left Rapunzel perplexed how a world so dangerous and evil... could also be so beautiful. High up in her tower Rapunzel watched the sky change from pinks and purples to blues light and dark, clouds fading to scattered stars, a map she'd found a fascination in charting. Breathtaking, the skies filled her with hope, day and night, greenery outside shifting in color through the seasons as she waited for the new lights to appear and dance through the night sky like they did on her birthday each year. Free. Like she yearned to be.

Today, they'd show. And in wanting to view them, her Mother forbid it... along with the screaming demand Rapunzel never ask to see them. Ever again. Panicked, Rapunzel scrambled for a plan, knowing she'd only have three days time to make it to the light source and back... when the opportunity presented itself. In the form of another. A strange creature, one she'd instinctively hit with a frying pan to protect herself, proving that she was more than capable of handling things. And yet again... Rapunzel was stunned to discover the so-claimed dangerous world held beautiful people too. But Mother had been right about them, and Rapunzel didn't know why he broke into her tower - to rob her, steal her hair, something evil... the grip on her frying pan loosens at a certain word. "I'm not scared..." It falls flatly beneath the man's speech, ears perking up next with his reason for being around this kingdom for a festival for the long lost princess (ignored). Royals invited (ignored) every year for her birthday (also ignored) A festival every year.

"The lights..." Rapunzel's complete takeaway as a dazed smile spread on her lips. He was the key. This was a sign! "You'll take me to them." While elated and daydreaming, with an absentminded release of her hair before catching the line again quickly, the man's chair fell back slightly with it in a jolt. Rapunzel leans forward, menacingly in her best attempt to be menacing, not at all ashamed about personal space. "If you take me to them... I won't report to the King that a man broke into my tower." Where the King was the world's highest authority in her story and history books and Rapunzel assumes she can just walk right in and speak with the man. "I'll even let you have whatever you want in this place since it was so important you get in here." It was the reason why he was here, right? Had to be. Something of value. "If you take me there... and back... I'll need to come back... then you can go." Gently tugging her hair like a pulley mechanism, Rapunzel let his chair rest normally on all fours, gazing at him pleadingly. "Do we have a deal?"

S : @musingmemories + rapunzel !

❛   you've ... been up here for eighteen years ? ❜ his voice is quiet &* incredulous as he squints at her. his head still aches from the blunt force trauma of her frying pan , so the sun in the window is a bit blinding ------ even so , he's certain he'd have the same furrowed brow either way. she's tied him up -- he's made no attempt to warn that he could burn his way out of her hair. why give away his powers when there's something so very curious about a girl with seventy feet of hair that defies logic ? no , there's something to be gained here &* he's not giving away that he is exactly one of the dangers of the outside world. to her ,

he is just a man that happened upon her tower &* climbed it out of curiosity ----- to a degree , that's true ! except for the part where he'd certainly heard her yelling match with her mother about floating lights &* getting out &* taken it upon himself to see exactly who was yelling , only to find the strangest sight he's ever seen --------- seriously , what's up with the hair ? if he could get her out &* away from her mother that kept her hidden for some important reason , well ... either the hostage money or leverage would get him somewhere powerful enough to get away from his own family.

❛   all because you're scared of a world you've never experienced ? i assure you it's not all bad. i suppose i can't speak for this kingdom in particular ... i'm from far away ------ the southern isles , to be exact. i'm simply visiting for a festival in corona for the lost princess. they invite royals every year for her birthday. ❜