#<- would anyone actually believe i am deeply sad that it's all but fully guaranteed he will die

[mothheart]

It's cliche as hell maybe but gabriel being trans is a fun hc to toss around with that religious guilt of his. overachiever angel who fought his way to the top and earned the respect of the other angels and the tolerance of the council and committing countless atrocities in the process gets severed from his connection to god in the end regardless and has the most self-destructive downward spiral. failure of an angel speedrunning every sin until he kicks the bucket. it's a good thing there's a certain self-indulgent murder toaster to help him with that :)

[ecadiuu]

my theory on the ending of snk (spoilers)

wow. I can’t believe I’m so knee-deep into the lore of shingeki no kyojin again. right when I thought I was understanding things, I end up retracing and trying to understand the purpose of events and why characters did what...and the like. needless to say, I became infatuated all over again. during quarantine I got back into the series and caught up, spending the last week doing so. I just wanted to list what I think would happen at the end.

I’m fully convinced that the baby in the last manga panel is the og ymir fritz from the paths dimension being reborn into the mortal world and officially “set free”. I also think that the baby is historia’s. people like to argue about who the father is, if its the farmer, some people say its eren, idk. somehow I feel like it could be eren...that would make the birth of new ymir that much more poignant, but at the same time...I don’t know, I still have my doubts. its a 50/50 for me.

I am also set on the idea that armin will be the one to devise a master plan and make something happen in which he “saves humanity”, where it’s been foreshadowed by eren during that erwin/armin dispute. what he’s going to do exactly, I’m not sure. excited to see it though.

that being said, a part of me also has this theory that whatever happens, the one who will “land the finishing blow” or be the one to actually attempt to stop eren will be mikasa. I think this way because she is the only capable person within the vicinity of the main plot who is unaffected by the founder’s powers, being that she’s ackerman and asian. therefore, if something hypothetically happens where eren uses the founder’s power to facilitate his plan of genocide and therefore render eldians incapacitated, stopping even his fellow eldian friends from his initiation of destruction, mikasa is the only person who would be both unaffected and able to do something about it..also worth mentioning that her bond with eren could make that much more of a difference.

but also, I don’t even think eren’s plan of mass genocide can be stopped. truthfully, I actually think his plan might go through. worst case scenario is that the alliance tries to convince eren, and when that doesn’t work, they resort to killing him. bonus points if it’s mikasa that possibly kills him, like I mentioned, because isayama is the king of Suffer. of course not before eren confesses to armin and mikasa that he’s always loved them and he was distancing himself so that they could bear his death better. watch him about to die, be like, “I knew that this was going to happen in the future, and I don’t regret it. To save humanity, Mikasa, Armin,,,...I love you.” bam death. but then it doesn’t matter since the rumbling just kills everyone because the Will has already been initiated and it was all for naught. sadness ensues

jk I don’t think it’s going to be that sad... though we can never be too cautious because all kinds of deaths and sad dialogues are surely on the table. I think that the ideal conclusion would go like this: the rumbling ends up killing some but not all. eren makes the little girl paths ymir biologically modify the eldian race so that they can no longer transform into titans. this won’t erase any of the hatred that the other nations have for eldia, they will still fear them due to the long history that cannot be erased either. the cycle of bloodshed would most likely still continue, but to me this is the most peaceful way...

...this ending is unsatisfying and inconclusive, and it’s why it’s very unlikely. it’s why I think that the rumbling is inevitable. I also can’t trust isayama. he is not kind to us LOL. he can do whatever he wants. so I still think there’s going to be a lot of death and pandemonium and sadness soon to come.

I also wanted to touch on the subject of shipping because lol why not. I was never really a shipper in snk just cause all of my shipping energy is transformed into love and affection for none other than  a r m i n  the bane of my existence and also my will to live. 

eren’s going to die in one way or another. be it in action or in the few years he has left of life. taking that into account...it’s why I don’t see him ending up with anyone. he’s the main character, but just because he’s the main character doesn’t mean he’s going to have a happy ending with whoever it may be. eren doesn’t have enough time to find a wife and have a kid and live happily, and even if he did he’d only have like 2-3 years left. I’d doubt he’d even want to burden a potential partner by having a family just to leave them behind in the next instant. having a totally tragic, sad, but meaningful death is what I 100% see here, potentially, and that includes the life that he will have cut short due to his story. it’s quite sad to think he dies so early with the curse of ymir...but of course, that’s just how the story goes.

mikasa: IIII’m not totally sure who I see mikasa ending up with. what I do know for sure, though, is that her distance from eren was necessary in order for her character development--to prove that she is indeed not a slave to her ackerman instincts. this totally makes me want to touch on the manga of what I saw regarding her and eren’s relationship, so I’m going to right now. oh god.. straight up, I felt sooo bad for mikasa after reading the scene where...omg....the survey corps went to marley woo fun ice cream and that night, eren talks to mikasa alone near the mid-east refugees, being all like, “wHat dO I mEaN to yOU?” ,,,,like I don’t even consider myself an eremika shipper, but damn I was blushing for her. so cut to that part where she responds “family” when he asks between “because I saved you” or “family”... it was here where it was kinda confirmed that she has those kinds of feelings for eren...which makes this even sadder for me to think about. the way I interpreted that scene was that eren wanted to know if she was only so concerned of him because it was due to her nature of being an ackerman to protect, or if it was because he and her grew up together (in my opinion, it was the culmination of both, but maybe more so the fact that they grew up together). what I understood from his question was that the last thing eren wants is for mikasa to be attached to him due to her bloodline and therefore a slave to him because of her own instincts, which is what he believes. I also understand his motive for being so mean to her was because of this. maybe he even wanted to protect her from the pain of his inevitable death and a guaranteed future without him, and so distancing himself is what he finds is necessary for that. and for that reason, I tend to think that their separation is going to be the endgame for them. undoubtedly, mikasa will have to live the rest of her days without eren. it’s one of those sad aspects of love that’s so vividly shown in SNK that’s like, love is sometimes real but not possible due to circumstances. will mikasa end up with armin? I don’t know. it’s possible but I mean...I feel like mikasa would be too pained knowing how deeply involved eren was in both of their lives. someone “new” like jean? seems hugely weird...also jean constantly disrespected eren so...probably not. I’m totally fine with mikasa being single. she can be an independent bad bitch and have her memory of eren deep within her heart.

armin: okay, so armin has 9 years left to live. will he have partner and a potential family? maybe. a lot of these questions are big maybes. I could totally see it happen. with who? no clue. I see that armin x annie is a thing, but like.............I honestly don’t think annie has the capability to love anyone like that. I think her sole concern in life is her father and that’s that. her life is also limited to who knows how many years, she has an even shorter time than eren. and in addition, like...would armin even like annie....? I just hope this king is happy for as long as possible because he deserves it. I Love You Armin.

as for everyone else, I also could see people like connie and jean finding their partners once everything is over, of course if theyre still alive. levi and hange are probably going to be bachelors for the rest of their lives. focusing primarily on levi, I think his whole life he never really tried to get close to anyone or had thoughts of truly having intimate relationships because he would expect the possibility of them to die. levi is king of “protecting myself from hurt by not engaging in intimacy in the first place”. an art I am also soon to master thanks to his teachings. hange...I hope she lives along with levi and both of them can finally live in peace as the old, tired veterans they truly are. speaking of which, I hope she doesn’t die. but for some reason I have a sense in my gut isayama is going to pull something.

^^the above wasn’t meant to bash any ships or anything. it’s just what I thought regarding the characters’ endings in my point of view, all while keeping the themes of the series in consideration, trying to be as unbiased and factual as possible

as we know, snk characters x happiness is....rare. snk characters x life is even rarer. still looking forward to any ending isayama has tho, might just cry into a pillow when I read it

[veryangryhedgehog]

“In Anno Domini 900,” an Ede Valley story by Hedgehog.

In Anno Domini 900

(Because I couldn’t fit it anywhere else in the chapter)

The tower was cold, dark, and clammy. Condensation often dripped from its stony walls. Ordinarily, Xiar wouldn’t have minded so much. It was an old, twisting structure, it was going to do as it wished. The problem was the constant battle to save his books from water damage and rot. Well, he said his books. Everything that involved magic was a little fuzzy. He was ninety-nine percent sure this tower belonged to him. But he was still always looking out for the real owner of the tower to come striding in and throw him out for being a loony.

To be fair, he didn’t necessarily look sane. Xiar had a passion for long, star-covered robes and pointy hats. Again, he couldn’t remember exactly why. He knew there had been a reason, but whatever it was was lost on him. That’s why he was here in the first place.

Just six months ago he’d been a wizard of great power. Until, that is, he’d faced a being of immeasurable force and had been forced to use incredibly powerful magic. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been strong enough to wield it properly, and though he’d succeeded in holding back this being, his knowledge and magical skill had been taken from him. So here he was, retracing his steps and trying to relearn everything.

It was hard, long work, made even more so by the water, and crumbling stone, and occasional tremors from the structure of the tower itself. But if there was one thing that Xiar Flooferpoofen was, it was optimistic. So he kept working and learning, and knew that someday, he would reclaim his old power.

But even he was a little unnerved when one morning before dawn, he looked out the tower window and saw a black horse and rider plodding across the snowy valley towards him. His first thought was that the rider must have been out for a stroll… in the middle of the night, riding as swiftly as his mount would carry him through the bleached landscape. His second thought was that he would ride right past into the dark, but it became apparent that he was slowing down as he approached the base of the tower.

His third thought was that his memories had been wrong. He didn’t own this tower, and its real owner had returned. Xiar couldn’t help feeling the air of danger the rider brought with him. He might not be just kicked out. He might end up dead.

Until he watched as below, his cloak whipping out around him, the rider dismounted and knocked on the door. Usually, people didn’t knock on the doors of their own towers. Xiar paused, hoping that maybe, if he didn’t move, the man would go away.

Then he banged harder and Xiar was nearly shaken to his feet as the tower itself shuddered. He hurried down the spiral steps, cursing his old bones all the way. The man knocked one more time.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Xiar shouted, though whether the man could actually hear him was up to the will of the gods.

It appeared against the odds that he had, for as Xiar creaked down the last few steps the knocking ceased. He opened the door, and didn’t bother looking at the visitor before proclaiming: “Behold, whether man or daemon you be, know that I am a wizard of great power, the mighty Xiar Floo—”

He tried for a fireball, but all he managed was a sad little puff of smoke in the snow before the man’s feet.

Said visitor stared at it for a second, before turning his gaze back to Xiar, who couldn’t help noticing the slight disappointment visible in the shrouded features under his hood. The man was pale, with dark hair and nearly darker circles under his eyes. But there was something slightly off about him. The eyes themselves were too old for such an unmarred face.

“Are you the master of this tower?” he asked incredulously.

“I just told you, I am Grand Master Wizard Xiar Flooferpoofen! Well, was might be slightly more appropriate.”

The man frowned. “Was?”

“Magical accident, I’m afraid. All my knowledge, poof! Up in smoke. I’ll relearn it eventually, of course. Only took me fifteen years the first time! But I’ve begun rambling. What brings you to, uh, my tower?”

“Please forgive me, I forgot to introduce myself,” the man ducked his head. “My name is Lucius Marcellus, and I was told that the master of this tower might hold some ancient knowledge I seek. But if you’ve lost all of that…”

He began to turn, but Xiar stopped him. He wouldn’t let this man turn away disappointed. And he liked to be helpful. “Wait!” he began. “Though I myself may be lacking in the brains department, my books certainly aren’t. They may contain that which you are looking for.”

Marcellus paused, and looked about ready to decline, until he happened to glance up at the sky, just beginning to grey with the dawn. “Thank you,” he nodded. “Deeply.”

A grin spreading across his many wrinkles, Xiar turned and led the way inside, a skip in his step. It had been so long since he’d had any kind of visitor. “Marcellus,” he commented as they climbed the numerous steps—had there been less of them on the way down?—“That’s an old name.”

“It is,” Marcellus mumbled, almost to himself. “It’s probably near time to change it…” There seemed to be something melancholy in the way he said that, the look of loss in his old eyes. But then her shook his head. “Do you need some help?” he asked as he saw Xiar struggling up the last few stairs.

“Oh, hush,” Xiar just chuckled. “I’m probably younger than you are.”

Marcellus froze. “What do you mean?”

“I’m only twenty-nine.”

Blinking in the candlelight, Marcellus frowned and looked over at Xiar once again, the wrinkled face, the long, white beard. “Twenty-nine?” he repeated. “Magical accident?”

“Magical accident.”

Finally, the study came into view, and the mountain of stone steps was conquered. Xiar hadn’t noticed how chaotic the place really was until there was someone else here to see it. His books were scattered in every place he could fit them, every place that wasn’t occupied by puddles of water or plant matter.

“Now,” Xiar began apologetically, “what exactly is it that you’re looking for?”

But Marcellus didn’t respond, for just then the tower began to shake again. “It that… normal?” he asked finally.

Xiar waved him off. “Happens all the time. Old tower and all that.”

“Right…” Marcellus glanced around at the piles and piles of books. Organized chaos was the word of the day.

“It may look like a mess, but I guarantee you I know where everything is,” Xiar defended his collection.

Shaking his head, a wry smile crossed Marcellus’ face. “Alright then, I’m looking for information on Atlantis. More specifically, why it’s a lost city in the first place.”

Xiar blinked several times. He had to admit that he had fully expected something easy, like the uses of mandrake root. Okay, maybe not that, but it was hard to come up with good examples off the top of one’s head. “Atlantis?” he said. “Hardly anyone even remembers that name anymore. You wouldn’t happen to be a wizard yourself, would you?”

“No, no,” Marcellus shook his head. “Merely a scholar.”

“No one is a ‘scholar’ these days unless you’re studying god,” Xiar laughed.

“Yes, it does appear that things have headed in that direction.”

Blundering around the tower room, Xiar began to search blindly around. He knew that he had something relevant around here… “You speak as if you’ve known differently,” he mumbled distractedly.

“Oh no, I’ve just been told stories.”

“Ah, here it is,” Xiar pushed aside several musty tomes, and there on the surface of his desk was a tattered scroll. The tower rumbled again, a little stronger this time. They had been getting more frequent, the rumblings, but Xiar hadn’t paid them much mind.

Marcellus took the scroll and read the first few lines. “This… this is a story.” He seemed confused.

“Yes, it is.”

“I’m sorry, but I’ve heard all the stories. I’m looking for the truth.”

Slowly, Xiar sat on his stool, his old bones creaking. “Isn’t there always some Truth in every story?”

He thought about this for a second, then shrugged.

“That may just be a story, but it’s your job to find where the Truth lies.”

Unfortunately, just as Marcellus opened his mouth to ask a question, the ground itself began to rumble. Not just the tower, but everything around it as well. The towers of books quickly collapsed, and the one glass window shattered.

Marcellus rose to his feet, shakily. “We need to get out of here,” he clasped Xiar’s hand and helped him up as well. They began to wobble their way to the staircase, but with a great crack a part of the wall crumbled and fell directly over the doorway.

“Why do things like this always happen to me?” Marcellus mumbled.

“Well,” Xiar began, “look on the bright side…”

“Which is…?”

“Yeah, I can’t think of anything.”

Running over to the newly created hole in the wall, Marcellus looked downwards. “No one alive could survive that fall.”

“Well, I guess that means that I’m up,” Xiar pushed up his loose sleeves. “Help me clear this rug.”

A large pile of paper and books had landed or had already covered the bearskin rug on the floor. Quickly, the two men pushed the mess aside.

“Are you going to attempt magic?” Marcellus asked, a little incredulously.

“Not attempt, do,” Xiar winked. “It’s all in the mindset.”

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. So what if he hadn’t been able to cast even the simplest spell since the accident? The fear of death would provide just the pressure he needed to break this block.

Alright, here we go, he thought, trying in vain to remember how it had felt to use magic, how to drag up the last visages of power from that far place under the waves and hone it to an edge. He was, and would be, one of the last true wizards. He must be able to do this. Float.

“I don’t believe it,” he heard Marcellus mumble, and opened his eyes. The rug was hovering a few inches off the ground. Xiar laughed in relief, but he could already feel the magic fading. There wasn’t much time.

“Get on!” he commanded, and with a bit of difficulty, Marcellus managed to jump on and pull Xiar up behind him. By now bits of stone were falling on their heads. “Forward!” Xiar felt the need to say it out loud, in order to hold onto the magic a little longer.

The rug shot forward, out of the hole in the wall, and a second later the whole tower started to collapse in on itself. Marcellus’ horse was easy to pick out against the white snow, galloping away from the rapid shaking. Xiar brought the rug into a barely controlled dive downwards into the snow.

Marcellus hastily pulled his cloak down over his face as the sun rose over the horizon. He recovered much faster than Xiar, who struggled to sit up and spit out a face-full of snow and fur.

“That was certainly an event,” Xiar laughed, his eyes twinkling as the tower finally crumbled in a puff of snow and a tremendous boom. He was so high off of magic that he nearly fell back down into the snow.

Blinking, Marcellus looked more downcast, though it was hard not to with his face in shadow as it was. “Your tower, all your books. I’m sorry.”

“Ah, no matter,” Xiar waved him off. “Everything happens for a reason. I’ve been thinking of setting off on a journey anyway. There’s only so much you can learn from books, you know.”

“I don’t know how you stay so optimistic,” Marcellus shook his head.

“it’s probably more difficult for you,” Xiar smiled. “I’m pretty sure angst is a legitimate side effect of vampirism.”

Marcellus began to nod, then froze. “Wait, how did you know about that?”

“The way you speak of old things as if they weren’t old at all. But your fear of the sun is really what did it.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“No,” Xiar shook his head, “I’m just much more observant than I appear. But I’m flapping my gums. You, my friend, should get out of the sun. Have you still got the scroll?”

Patting his cloak, Marcellus smiled. “Safe and sound. But I shouldn’t leave you out here alone.”

“I’ll be alright,” Xiar insisted. “I’m not the one in physical pain. Your cheek is smoking.”

He patted his cheek out, and though he still looked conflicted, Marcellus mounted his horse. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“Don’t you have some reading to do?”

Marcellus grinned, waved, and set off.

“Remember, this is important!” Xiar called after him. “Find where the Truth lies!”

Once Marcellus had disappeared over the nearest hill, Xiar looked down at the bearskin rug. “Now, let’s see if I can do this again…”

[edosianorchids901]

I was going to ask for a NSFW prompt but as I read the list my mind kept circling back to two of the angst asks, 20: “Please don’t hurt me like this.", and 23: “Why did you spare me?”. Either one of them would be amazing to read :D

Quite happy to do both of these! I enjoy angst a little too much. 

20. “Please don’t hurt me like this.”

                “ButGarak… Elim… I love you. Please don’thurt me like this,” I pleaded, my heart racing. This couldn’t be happening.

               Hecontinued avoiding my gaze, instead focusing intently on folding his clothes.“I’m sorry, Doctor. This is how it must be.”

               “’Doctor’?You’re really gonna call me ‘Doctor’ while you’re trying to break up with me?” Wounded,I paced a few feet away. Of all the ridiculous…

               “Emotionaldistance will make the transition easier.” He sounded like he was recitingsomething, probably a stupid Cardassian handbook on how to dump your partner.Actually, maybe he was. It wouldn’t have surprised me if that sort of trainingwas standard in the Order. After all, what if you have to seduce someone forinformation or something? You’d have to be able to get rid of them afterwards.

               Regardless,it only infuriated me more. “It will damn well not make it easier,” I spat, storming back to his side.

               “Iapologize for any pain I’ve caused, Doctor. But I must do what’s right, forboth of us.” As he tucked a shirt into his bag, I noticed that his hands wereshaking.

               “Youdon’t get to decide that.” I grasped his arm, and he jerked away.

               “You’rea foolish boy. You don’t understand,” he muttered, fidgeting with the bag strap.

               Moreagitated every second, I seized his arm again. “Damn you, Elim, look at me!”

               Gazestubbornly averted, he picked up a pair of pants and folded them, movementsstill neat and precise despite the tiny tremors coursing through him. “I don’tsee what the trouble is. It’s not as if you’ll be single long. I’m sure you’llfind a new companion with no difficulty at–”

               I’dhad enough. I forcibly whirled him to face me, and captured his face in myhands before he could react. “Look at me, dammit!”

               Startled,his eyes snapped to my face. He stared at me for a moment, open-mouthed withshock. And then, suddenly, his mask crumbled. Gone was the cool, dispassionate attitude,leaving only grief and fear.

               Movingeven closer, I caressed his cheeks. “Elim, why are you doing this? I know it’snot what you want.”

               Hislip trembled, and he dropped his gaze again. “You know why,” he whispered. “I’ma murderer.”

               “So?I already knew that before I started dating you.”

               Garakgestured aimlessly. “Yes, but… it’s different. I killed someone. Not because Ineeded to, or because they were a threat to Cardassia. No, I had no reason tokill Amaro. It was brutal. It was in cold blood.”

               Sothat was what this was about.“Dearest, that wasn’t your fault,” I murmured, tucking an errant strand of hairbehind his ear. “You were under the influence of experimental drugs. It’s notlike you wanted to kill him.”

               Hegave me a terribly conflicted, anguished look. “But that’s what’s so horrific.I did want to kill him. And when youwere trying to treat me… I threatened to do unspeakable things to you. I wantedto hurt you.”

               “Iknow.” I gazed at him, unsure what to say. It had been deeply frightening tohear my lover saying such ugly things to me, and I was still a little shaken.“But it wasn’t you. I’m not scared ofyou, I know you’d never hurt me.”

               “ButI would have!” A harsher tremor tore through him, and his face twisted withanguish. Unable to bear his pain, I folded him in my arms.

               “Shhh,”I soothed, rubbing his back in slow circles. “Look, I know you’re still reallyupset about what happened. But leaving and isolating yourself isn’t gonna helpanything, Garak.”

               Elimpulled back, looking at me with naked agony. “I can’t hurt you, Julian,” hewhispered, hesitantly brushing his fingertips across my cheek. “I can’t takethat chance.”

               “You’rehurting me now.” I grasped his hand and held his palm to my cheek. “Elim,you’re hurting me by leaving. And you’re hurting yourself, too. Running awaywon’t solve this.”

               Hestruggled to speak, and then dropped his eyes to the floor. Such intensehopelessness and despair washed over him that it nearly moved me to tears.

               Gently,I cupped his face in my hands and brushed my lips against his. “And do you knowwhat else?” I continued. “If you’re alone in your quarters when you’re thisdespondent… I’m terrified that you’ll really hurt yourself. And I don’t meanemotionally.”

               Heclosed his eyes for a moment, and then looked straight at me. “You really wantme to stay, darling boy? Even after you’ve seen firsthand what a monster I am?”

               “Youaren’t a monster,” I chided. “And yes, Elim. I want you to stay. I want to helpyou through this.”

               Amoment’s hesitation, and then he embraced me. “Thank you.”

23. “Why did you spare me?”

               “Whydid you spare me?”

               Thequestion, although softly spoken, sounded near deafening after the longsilence. Hours had passed since either of us had said a word, both simplyretreating to separate corners to process all that had happened.

               Lettingout a long breath, I finally looked at Garak. Even though I’d long sincetreated him, my eyes automatically drifted to the spot where my bullet had tornthrough his neck ridge. My bullet…

               “Whatdo you mean?” I questioned, voice coming out thin and strained.

               Elimpursed his lips, looking strangely annoyed. After a moment, he pushed uprightand came to sit beside me on the couch. Those keen, attentive eyes studied me,and then he repeated his inquiry. “Why did you spare me?”

               “MaybeI really did mean to kill you,” I deflected.

               Heshook his head, eyes narrowing. “No, I don’t believe you did. And, if you’llforgive my lack of humility, I am anexcellent judge of when people are genuinely attempting to end my life. I’malso an excellent judge of you, my dear. If killing me was truly yourintention, I think I’d have noticed.”

               Ishrugged, attempting to busy myself with my padd in the hopes that he would goaway. I was still far too upset to have a rational conversation about this.

               Garak,however, wasn’t ready to give up. “It was immensely foolish of you not to killme, you know. Wounding me wasn’t a guarantee at all! Even with an admittedlypainful injury, it would have been quite easy for me to call for the doorregardless.”

               Tryingmy best to ignore him, I began to scroll through a medical supply inventory.Okay, there were a few things Ineeded to requisition. At least that would distract me for a little while.

               “Julian,are you listening to me?” A hand touched my arm, and I shook it off. “I’m quiteserious about this. You should have killed me.”

               “Whatdoes it matter?” I snapped.

               Thatearned me an eye roll and a harshly condescending tone. “It matters becausethat’s the sort of thing that will get you killed in the real world! A real spydoesn’t have the luxury of sentiment. You can’t spare someone who’s a threatsimply because you care about them. You must be decisive, ruthless–”  

               “Idon’t want to be a spy!” I yelled, distressed. “I don’t wanna think aboutthreats, ruthlessness, or killing anyone!”

               Garakstood, and I abruptly realized that I was on my feet as well, my heart racing,hands shaking. He took a step closer, almost reached out, and then apparently thoughtbetter of it.

               Istared at him, desperately struggling to put this overwhelming avalanche offeelings into a coherent sentence. “I don’t wanna think about killing someone Ilove,” I whispered, voice breaking. “I don’t wanna hear that I should havekilled you. I love you.”

               Hiseyes filled with a combination of guilt and sadness, and he gently took myhands in his. “I apologize, Julian. I love you too, and I am, of course, gladyou didn’t kill me. But I don’t want to see you make a mistake that could costyou your life. You’re far too precious to me.”

               Iswallowed hard, trying not to cry. “Normally, I welcome your advice. But notright now. I can’t do this right now, Elim. I’m too upset about hurting you atall.”

               Heinclined his head, and then coaxed me back to the couch. “I understand, mydear. I’ll abide by your wishes. Is there anything I can do to help?”

               Stillintensely disturbed, I curled up tight against his side. “Just hold me,” Iwhispered, resting my head on his shoulder and breathing in his scent. Calmdown, Julian. Everything’s okay, Garak’s fine.

               Buteven as he wrapped his arm around me and began to hum a quiet, soothing song… Icouldn’t chase away the memories. Of the acute panic in my chest as I squeezedthe trigger, of his cry of pain, of blood trickling down his neck.

               Isuspected the anguish of this day would never fully leave me. But for now, Icould feel Garak’s chest rising with each breath, could savor the sensation ofhis fingers combing through my hair in tender strokes. For now, that would haveto be enough.

[esseastri]

Literally everyone: AAHH MASS EFFECT ANDROMEDA!!!! Me, seven years late with starbucks: so, I just finished ME2 and yowza, guys

.

Okay, so some of you might remember that a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away (oh shit wrong fandom), I was liveblogging Mass Effect 2. For various personal reasons, I stopped the liveblog some time ago--I jumped ship and liveblogged all three Dragon Age games, and then, when I was meant to pick the ME2 blog back up, some personal shit happened and it was easier for me to just finish the game without the liveblog. I’m sorry if you were looking forward to live Suicide Mission reactions, but I can provide, in bullet point form, a summary of what would have been the end of the liveblog if I’d been able to finish it properly!

(Having now written it up, I guarantee, you’re not missing anything by this not being an immediate liveblog--it is JUST as funny this way, I promise!!)

It did get quite long, so here it is, under the cut:

I successfully scanned/probed every. planet. in the galaxy. I’m not joking. Every single one.

This made for a lot of boring scanning time, but it also revealed a lot of sidequests--all of which I completed. 

This included taking out the entirety of the Blue Suns mercenary operation via fucking up their fake-distress-signal trap and stealing their stolen cargo after killing off several of their captains.

Also I stopped some missiles from crashing into a small colony? I think?

I successfully completed every sidequest that had anything to do with quarians.

Samara’s loyalty mission!

I flirted with her daughter so badly it was embarrassing, but hey, that’s the way to bait serial killers into getting KO’d by their moms, so...

Thane’s loyalty mission:

I’m still genuinely surprised that that security guard honestly believed I was a health inspector are you kidding me I’m fully armed and armored how does this outfit say ‘health inspector’ to you pls I fear for the security of the Citadel

But hey, we stopped the kid from killing anyone, so that’s good.

Also, what is up with my squadies having kids who want to murder people who we have to prevent from murdering people? Guys. This is bad parenting. Pls. 

I scanned some more planets and did a few more sidequests.

Miranda’s loyalty mission:

there was some hinky shit with this whole situation, but it’s Miranda: of course there was hinky shit. But I’m glad her sister was WAY Chiller about the situation than I thought she was going to be.

I AM SAD I MISSED THE PARAGON QUICK-TIME-BUTTON AND MIRANDA MURDERED HER CHILDHOOD BESTIE THAT WAS VERY UPSETTING AND I’M NOT ABOUT THAT LIFE

Jacob’s loyalty mission:

TALK ABOUT HINKY SHIT WITH THE WHOLE SITUATION

tbqh, I’m still not 100% sure what the fuck happened on that mission. I got the toxic food made people wacky, but I’m unclear on the ten-year wait before activating the distress beacon. You cannot have just been chilling like a king while the crew got slowly more poisoned for ten years and been having a good time. Bro, pls.

I’m v glad Jacob was chill with me throwing his dad in jail.

I did some more sidequests. I cannot stress enough how many fuckin sidequests I completed.

LEGION: hoooo boy. 

1. I fucking hate husks and fighting husks and getting swarmed by husks and dying a lot but it’s fine, I’m fine

2. Geth still make me nervous. I understand that there are good geth and bad geth, but I spent waaayyy too long fighting that Colossus on Therum in game 1 to fully be okay with them.

3. Tali’s non-reaction was the most ridiculous and out of character anything in the Bioware universe. There was NO REACTION AT ALL to us activating a geth on board a ship that has an AI installed on it. And no reaction to us recruiting that geth. The only reaction we got--finally, AFTER FINISHING Legion’s mission--was her anger over Legion trying to send info on the Flotilla to the geth. Which, yes, warranted a reaction, but sO DID A LOT OF OTHER STUFF. And the fact that Bioware was too lazy to write Tali some reactions to this geth just chillin’ in our AI Core offends me deeply.

4. Legion’s mission: I really, really didn’t want to do either option, tbh. One felt like genocide and one felt like mind control and I was 100% not there for either of those versions of events. (I eventually decided to blow up the station: see point 2 above.)

The second EDI was like “u should take everyone on the shuttle; the ship will be fine!” I was like, “OH JESUS FUCK NOTHING WILL EVER BE ‘FINE’ AGAIN”

There is nothing--nothing--more #relateable than Joker running through the ship as it’s getting attacked by Collectors and just repeating “shitshitshitshitshit” for the entire time. 

It was about this time that I realized the next THING was the Omega-4 Relay and I had to do some googling. Did you know that the Mass Effect Wikia is 100% Useless when it comes to figuring out how to get through the Suicide Mission without getting anyone killed?

I spent a lot of time being TERRIFIED that I’d somehow missed a ship upgrade, even though there was no possible way for me to have missed a ship upgrade.

GARRUS AND I FINALLY DID THE DO. THERE WERE CANON FOREHEAD TOUCHES. HE WAS A NERD. IT WAS SO FUCKIN CUTE I DIED. IT WAS SO CUTE.

The fight with the Oracle in the basement was waaayy chiller than I thought it was going to be, and my sister, from across the room, just laughed and reminded me that I was playing on Casual mode.

The briefing room scene: 

Miranda: “We’re going to have to split up into several groups.”

Me: “Worst. Idea. Ever.”

Miranda: “You have to pick someone to go in the vents. I volunteer!”

Jacob: “I also volunteer!” 

Me: “Ahh, thanks, but I’ma send Legion, ‘cause Legion is the best tech guy we could possibly ever have? Considering it IS...tech?”

Miranda: “Ugh, fine. Pick someone to lead the second squad. Again, I volunteer.”

Me: “That’s nice. Hey Garrus, darling--meet me at that fucking door, and you better be alive, babe.”

Garrus: “Sure thing, babe.”

Miranda: “Uuughhh, at least we know he knows what he’s doing. Fine.”

SO WE SET OFF INTO THE COLLECTOR BASE, SPLIT UP INTO SEVERAL GROUPS, AND I ALMOST HYPERVENTILATED OUT OF NERVES AND MADE MYSELF COUGH.

I got Legion through the vents without it melting.

I spent a lot of time reminding myself that if you murder all the collector drones before you kill Harbinger, then you only have to kill Harbinger once, as opposed to once for every drone in the room.

There was a terrifying moment at the first locked door, when I was very certain we were all going to die.

No one died.

I WAS REALLY WORRIED THE CREW HAD BEEN LIQUEFIED BUT THEY WEREN’T, I SAVED THEM ALL! IT WAS AMAZING!

Also, the liquefying was suuppper gross and unnecessary, thanks Bioware.

The First Regrouping scene:

EDI: “Sorry, guys, but you need to go through that hallway full of seeker swarms, good fucking luck.”

Samara: “I could probably make a biotic barrier and keep them off us? It’ll be slow, but I can do it.” Miranda: “SO COULD I. Any biotic could do it! I VOLUNTEER!”

Me: “Uh, it was Samara’s idea, soooo...she’s gonna do it.”

Miranda: “FIIIINNE. Someone has to be a distraction and go the other way, though. I fucking volunteer, goddamit, Shep, just let me do my fucking job.” 

Me: “Garrus. Darling. Babe. Be safe.”

Garrus: “Sure thing, babe.”

Miranda: “I’m. going. to. stab. you.” Doctor Chakwas: “Can someone get us back to the ship? We’re all in really bad shape.” Miranda: “We do not have people to spare, sorry.” Me: “Hey, Mordin, I love you, but you are not extra great in combat. Want to escort mission this shit?” Mordin: “Good idea. Joker: need coordinates for pick up.” Miranda: “GOOD. LET’S GO. WE’VE GOT SHIT TO KILL. COME ON.”

At this point, I did feel a little bad for Miranda, but listen: I googled who was best for what, okay. Everyone had to live, okay.

We hiked it through the seeker swarm hallway and it was actually a really cool mechanic! I was impressed!

Thane kept getting into cover outside the protective bubble though, ‘cause he’s a doofus, and Tali and I were just like “pls, son, get inside and stay alive, we can’t take all these collectors just the two of us. I mean, we can, but it’ll go much faster with you helping. get inside the bubble. pls.”

I legitimately thought Samara was going to die of exhaustion before we reached the door. I assume that if she’s not Loyal, she might die there? But everyone was super loyal so it was fine, but I WAS WORRIED.

I had a heart attack when Garrus called for help and we had to bust down the door and save him and the other squad and I WAS SO WOORRRIIEEDD

AND THEN IT LOOKED LIKE HE GOT SHOT IN THE STOMACH AND I LITERALLY SCREAMED I WAS SO TERRIFIED BUT HE WAS FINE AND IT WAS FINE EVERYTHING IS FINE

It didn’t happen, because the game doesn’t support public displays of affection, but if you think that Gen didn’t grab Garrus’ face and kiss the fuck out of him once she’d decided he was alive and not shot, then you and I are not watching the same show.

So, after the traumatized, mid-battle kiss: 

The amount to which I wanted a v small, v scared scene in which Shep got to say a non-goodbye to the LI she is leaving to cover the door as she goes on ahead is astronomical, but the game did not provide, so I’m just going to have to fanfic the shit out of this.

The fucking human-reaper-larva was NASTY AF and I took half a look at it and went “NOPE, I’MA TAKE MY GLASSES OFF AND DO THIS FIGHT BLIND”

my sister laughed at me

I realized after two seconds that that wasn’t going to work ‘cause I couldn’t see the adds, and I had to murder them, too, sooo I put my glasses back on, and it was AWFUL

The “shoot the canisters” part of the fight was SOOOO easy, I was v concerned that I’d messed something up because it was so simple? Just waves of collectors? and then it just FALLS? I was Suspicious.

The Illusive Man chimed in with a “haven’t you people ever heard of working toward goddamned human supremacy” and wanted me to SAVE??? the collector base???? for “““RESEARCH”““???

So I said, “yeah, that’s fucking dumb, we’re not going to do that” and set the place to blow the fuck up

AND THEN I HAD TO FIGHT THE FUCKING TERRIFYING HUMAN REAPER THING AND IT WAS GROSS AND DIFFICULT BUT I WON IT WAS GR9 I DIDN’T EVEN DIE ONCE!!! OR RUN OUT OF AMMO!! IT WAS AMAZING! A MIRACLE!

So then everything blew up and THE PLATFORM STARTED FALLING AND I 100% FOR SURE THOUGHT TALI WAS DEAD

YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW TERRIFIED I WAS

I STARTED CRYING IMMEDIATELY AND THEN SHEP GRABBED HER HAND AND THEN LOST HER GRIP AND THEN THEY LANDED AND THERE WAS A GIANT BEAM ON TOP OF TALI AND I LEGIT STOPPED BREATHING

I STARTED COUGHING BECAUSE I WAS SO UPSET I STRESSED MYSELF INTO A COUGHING FIT IT WAS AWFUL I WAS CRYING AND MY SISTER WAS JUST LIKE “she’s Loyal, you’re fine, she’s fine” and I continued to freak out until she stood up and it was terrifying.

I then told the Illusive Man to fuck right off, stole the Normandy, and got my peeps together to murder some Reapers.

and BOY HOWDY THAT WAS A LOT OF REAPERS LIKE #YIKES???

SO That was the end of ME2!

A brief review: I liked bits of it, and viscerally hated other bits, tbh. I’m still not a fan of the mechanics, but once I figured out which guns to use against which enemies, things did get slightly better. I still hate the very idea of the Collectors--no one needs bug aliens who kidnap and liquefy people, I mean COME ON--but there was some cool stuff with that plotline as a whole. Also, I hate Cerberus, and I wish the game had let me more explicitly publicly pronounce myself as working WITH them out of desperation as opposed to FOR them because we believed in the same things.

Listen, Evil Martin Sheen, you underestimate how much I LOVE ALIENS and how little I care for the human race. So,

anyway

overall: not bad. Looking forward to the third one much more than I expected, tbqh, and that should be starting soon! I do plan to get back into the liveblogging swing of things, but that one WILL be over on the liveblog blog, found here. I’m hoping to start sometime next week, if not before then, as I’d really like to get to Andromeda before I have to fight the internet over spoilers. So, yeah! Thanks for putting up with this liveblog dying and being resurrected in this truncated form. I hope to see you on the liveblog blog for #Megan plays ME3 SOON! :D

[seriouslyhooked]

Just a Taste (A CS AU) Part 7/10

AU where Emma and Killian are contestants on the Great American Baking Show and all twelve contestants hail from Storybrooke Maine. In this AU Emma is a book editor by day, while Killian is an architect who just moved to town a few months prior. Expect baked goods, flirtatious interactions, a little drama and a whole lot of fluff with a guaranteed HEA for Captain Swan. Rated M.

Part One Here, Part Two Here, Part Three Here, Part Four Here, Part Five Here, Part Six Here

A/N: Week seven brings us to pastry week, but more importantly, it brings us to a head with one of the storylines I’ve been including thus far. This chapter, there will finally be a confrontation between Emma and Liam about his using Emma and Killian’s relationship for ratings. Hope you guys enjoy and thanks for reading!

Welcome to the Pastry Party.

Emma had read the sign dangling on the side of the big white tent at least ten times so far this morning and she was only just completing her first bake of the day. For whatever reason, the sign made her laugh, in fact, the entire theme of this weekend’s festivities kept an almost permanent smile on her face. They were treating this like a big celebration, with streamers, balloons, and even a mid morning mimosa that one of the PAs had just given her.

“Anyone else feel like we’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop at this point?” Belle asked and suddenly it dawned on Emma that realistically, that was exactly what they should all be expecting.

“Well I am now, love,” Killian muttered from his station and Emma looked at him, a bit concerned. Everyone was nearly finished making his or her cannoli, but Belle made a great point – what was all of this actually for? If the production team has spent money to bring a party life, there had to be some sort of endgame.

Emma didn’t have the luxury of considering what those problems might be now though, for she still had to put the caramel filling inside each and every hazelnut shell to complete her cannoli for consideration. Emma focused intently enough on those to miss the fact that Killian, who was done slightly early with his bake, had been waved outside by Ruby discretely. Emma probably wouldn’t have noticed his absence had it not been for the yell that came seconds later.

“You’ve got to be bloody kidding me! Where is he?!”

You could have heard a pin drop in the tent after that, and Emma instinctively knew that the ‘he’ in question was Liam and that this week’s theme may just have everything to do with the two of them. Stepping back from her display of finished product, Emma wanted to go comfort Killian, but was halted by Graham of all people.

“I really don’t think you want to go back there right now,” He whispered, as Emma watched him turn his microphone pack off. She followed suit, before replying.

“What’s going on?” Emma asked and Graham grimaced.

“There’s a cake back there that they were going to bring out between rounds.” Emma still wasn’t fully following. How could a cake be that bad? They were on a baking show.

“And?”

“And it’s a one week anniversary cake for you and Killian with a picture of the kiss on it,” Graham whispered, clearly sorry for the whole thing.

Emma knew her cheeks were probably burning red right now, this was incredibly embarrassing, but more than that it was almost cruel. Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw Liam on the other side of the tent. Killian hadn’t found him yet, and Emma was set on giving Liam a piece of her mind before he did.

“Emma, I don’t think-,” She left in the middle of Graham’s warning, uninterested in the repercussions. This was the tipping point. She’d had more than enough of Liam’s interfering.

“Why are you here?” Emma demanded of Liam after pulling him just outside the tent.

“Well love, I’m the head producer, have been for weeks if you haven’t noticed.” The sarcasm was infuriating and lacked all the charm that Killian’s witty little replies ever held.

“Oh I’ve noticed. I meant why did you come to Storybrooke?”

“I liked the chance to see my brother, not that it’s really any of your business.”  Emma bit back the immediate retort that tried to pass her lips, which would have essentially been her screaming ‘Of course it’s my fucking business!’ Instead she tried to stay cool even if she was currently seeing red.

“Why though? All you’ve done since coming here is make him miserable! You have the hosts embarrass him all the time talking about things he wants to keep private, and you barely speak to him during the week in between filming. So I have to ask again, why are you here?” Emma watched a flash of surprise pass over Liam’s features, but then he went on the defensive, arms crossing over his chest. He tried to use his height and bulk against Emma, maybe intimidate her a little, but that sure as hell wasn’t going to happen.

“I’m doing what’s best for him. He fancies himself in love with you and I’m trying to see if you can hack it, if both of you can.” Emma arched a brow at the preposterous notion.

“So all of this is some sort of test? All of the harassment and the continued light you keep throwing on us is to see if we’ll break along the way… you think you’re helping?!”

How could this have ever been helping? Killian and Emma were not public figures. When this show ended, so would their fifteen minutes of fame. They had no need to survive under a spotlight of scrutiny, and it was ridiculous to think that they did. They could have never told the world they were together and been just as happy, and somehow even the whole world knowing wasn’t enough. Liam just wanted to keep pushing.

“It’s my job to protect Killian-,”

“The only person he needs protecting from is you! You’re the bad guy right now, making problems where they never needed to exist. And you say it’s all for Killian, but I don’t believe that either because this is your job. You’re not using your career to test me or my love for your brother - you’re using us for ratings.” Liam stepped closer, just as angry as Emma.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re brand knew to Killian’s life, I’m his family.” Emma was about to respond that she was his family too when Tink stepped in, moving Emma back and turning a full fury on Liam, the likes of which Emma had never seen from the smaller woman before.

“Stop talking, Liam. You have become such an insufferable ass! What the hell happened to you?! You used to be the nicest guy. I quit my last job to follow you on this and so did half the crew. And for what?! To watch you turn this into every other reality show on television right now instead of making good on your promise that we could make something better.” Tink’s anger directed at Liam had the man shrinking back immediately. Emma watched, still a bit in shock from all of this, but slightly intrigued by the power her small friend wielded over this giant man.

“Tink, I didn’t think-,” Tink poked her finger into Liam’s chest hard.

“That’s right, you didn’t think! This was supposed to be about enjoyment, not drama and intrigue. Instead it’s become a nightmare for the contestants and heartbreaking for me- I mean the crew. You used to be better than this Liam, so either find the man you were before or…”

Emma watched as Tink tried to hold onto the anger, but underneath the blaze of it, Emma saw sadness too. Only now did it dawn on Emma that there might be more than professional feelings between Tink and Liam. To spare Tink any more pain, Emma stepped in again.

“Or make peace with the fact that this show isn’t happening. Because we will leave. All of us will leave.”

Liam looked at Emma a long beat, the hostility towards her from earlier fully gone. There might even have been a little sympathy in that gaze, but it was quickly moved over to Tink, who received the brunt of his guilt and sadness. Before any of them could be subjected to more pain, Emma pulled Tink with her back into the tent staying away from the rest of the filming still.

“Are you okay?” Emma asked and Tink nodded, breathing deeply and trying to get her bearings.

“I’m so sorry, Emma.” That this woman would apologize to her when she’d just risked her job to defend her was staggering, but spoke volumes about Tink’s character.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. Really, you don’t.” Tink sniffled a bit and wiped at her eyes, managing to keep the tears there from falling.

“I let my feelings for him keep me from advocating for you and Killian more, Emma. That was a mistake.” Emma shook her head.

“Don’t give up on him yet.” Tink’s eyes flashed up to Emma’s with surprise.

“But after everything he’s done…” Emma squeezed Tink’s hand.

“Everyone loses their way, some of us a bit more than the rest. But Killian talks all the time about the man Liam really is, or the man he used to be. I have to believe he can be that guy again, for Killian and for you.”

“Emma?” Killian’s voice from behind her made her heart jump a bit. She needed to talk to him, and to make sure they were okay and on the same page, but she also didn’t want to leave Tink.

“Go on, Emma. I’m fine, really. And if there’s any problems later, I’ll let you beat him up for me.”

Emma smiled genuinely at that before turning to Killian and facing the music. Would he be mad at the way she’d spoken to Liam? She was hardly naïve enough to think that no one had heard them, and she’d said a lot of things, none that she regretted, unless they’d somehow hurt Killian.

“Killian I –,”

Before Emma could say anything he moved towards her and claimed her mouth was his. This wasn’t a gentle kiss, but a passionate, demanding expression of so much pent up feeling and emotion that there was no fighting it, only surrender. When they finally pulled away, Emma didn’t care if there were a thousand cameras around, she only cared that the man she loved was smiling at her running his hand over her cheek.

“I love you, Emma.” She let go of the breath she’d been holding and smiled back.

“Good, because I love you too.”

Killian chuckled lightly, his thumb grazing her cheek tenderly before pulling back. When they looked around, all of the contestants were watching them and there was crew everywhere but no one was focusing their cameras on them. Emma was surprised, but Ruby filled her in.

“While you two were making out, Liam put Tink in charge for the rest of the day. He left right after.”

Emma nodded, now fully understanding. Tink would never be the person to use them for a ratings gain, and so at least for the rest of the day under this big tent they were safe. It made Emma a little gloomy though that it took the exit of Killian’s only family to grant them that feeling of wellbeing.

“I suppose this means I can kiss you whenever I want now.” Emma swatted his arm playfully.

“Um, no. You can’t distract me and keep me from winning star baker. If you do I’ll never forgive you,” Emma teased, prompting a smirk from Killian in response.

“Well I’ll have to channel all this into something. If not kissing you then perhaps it is I who will steal the crown this week.”

“Oh it’s so on,” Emma countered gamely, and Killian responded low enough so only she could here.

“No love. That would be later, when I finally get you alone again.” With that lovely promise of impending magnificence, both Emma and Killian returned to their stations.

The day’s production had been delayed, but under Tink’s orders, things ran smoothly. The judges seemed to pick up on the tension in the room, and thankfully even Gold minded his words a bit more than usual before they deliberated and the technical challenge was distributed. For the first time in a long time, the bakers were faced with a challenge from Mr. Gold but Emma and the others were stunned at the pastry the recipe called for.

“What the heck does Mr. Gold know about Baklava? There’s no fourteen-carat standard for this. No way to powder it with bling of any kind.” Belle’s words rang through the tent and had Emma smiling, but she didn’t question the source of this bake’s intel. Instead she reveled in the complexities, the multiple layers, and the care and precision required for making and baking with filo dough.

The hours ticked by and through the bake, the crew and the hosts took extra care to treat the week’s theme with caution. They still had a party, now including pizza instead of cake, and the hosts went around laughing and joking with each contestant. Despite the difficulty of the task before her, and the emotional stress of the morning over all, Emma relaxed into her afternoon.

By the time the hosts made their way to Emma to speak, she was well into creating the honey/syrup mixture and preparing the nuts accordingly to give the dessert that extra bit of crunch. It was difficult, and a bit perplexing if she was honest, thanks to the continuation of the redacted recipe gambit, but she persevered and in the end, whether it was exactly up to par or not, she knew it would taste damn good.

“So, Emma, how are we feeling about our culinary trip to Greece for this technical challenge?” Emma smiled at Ruby genuinely.

“I’m feeling like you two really have the easy job this week. You got to learn how to dance and made a lot of My Big Fat Greek Wedding references, while the rest of us made filo from scratch.”

“Well I learned to dance. Graham mostly learned to jerk around without rhythm,” Ruby said.

“How you slander me. I mean really, this is a day of celebration and still I get no reprieve from the teasing.” Graham looked to Emma for some backup but Emma only shrugged.

“I mean, I wasn’t going to bring it up, but you are kind of terrible at dancing,” Emma confirmed and Graham groaned.

“I can’t catch a break in this town!”

“I doubt it’s just this town judging your style now Huntsman. Remember you work on national TV. You’re gonna have a couple million viewers knowing your shame.” David’s words caused the whole tent full of people to laugh, a positive expulsion of any lingering drama that remained and Emma sighed happily.

“And I suppose you could do better,” Graham challenged and David grinned.

“Well, I can do anything better than I can make this recipe.” Graham raised an eyebrow.

“So how about a dance off? Me and Ruby versus you and a partner of your choosing.” Emma looked at David, interested to see who he would choose, and assuming it would be Mary Margaret.

“You’re on. Jones, let’s do this.” Emma barked out a bit of laughter before turning to Killian’s station. He looked surprised, but when he saw her smiling he grinned.

“I take it I have no say in the matter.” David shook his head.

“None at all.” With a shrug, Killian moved to the middle of the room where a camera crew now followed them and Ruby and Graham.

“This is the kind of fun this show is about,” Tink said as she stood with Emma while the two pairs had their dance off under the careful tutelage of an appointed Greek dance expert.

“I don’t know. The Brits never seem to stoop to these kinds of levels,” Emma replied.

“True. But wouldn’t it be fantastic if they did?” Tink asked and her and Emma laughed, nodding that she was right.

A timer from Killian’s station ended the impromptu stand off with a resounding win for Killian and David. Unfortunately for the victors, their involvement in the dance had them rushing to the finish and both barely made it to their presentation on time.

“Alright bakers, your time is up. Step away from the gorgeous Greek treats before you and say, Opa! Because you have finally reached the end of your baking today.” Graham threw a plate on the ground, only for it to clatter and roll instead of break. He looked confused as Ruby muffled a laugh.

“You know that’s plastic right?” Ruby asked and Graham sighed.

“Well I do now.”

As the contestants had a good laugh at the exchange, the judges filed in to do the blind testing. In the end, their judgments didn’t bother Emma, even when they found flaws with her bake. She was eager to have the day over, and to go home to the quiet comfort of just her and Killian, away from everything else. When Killian won first place for his technical, though, Emma knew that quiet may never actually come, for he was on his way to making good on his quest for star baker, and she expected she had not heard nearly the end of this. That was fine with her though, for wherever they went, and whatever they spoke of, she knew one thing – she and Killian would be together and being with him made her happier than she’d ever thought possible.

……………………….

Warmth and pleasure mingled together as Emma dreamed about Killian’s hands running along her body, pulling her close. He dropped a kiss on her neck, his hands drifting so they touched her thigh, creeping higher when her legs so willingly parted. The feel of his breath above the place he’d kissed her sent sizzle of heat coursing through her as she arched closer wanting more.

“You need to be awake for this, Emma. Tempting as you are, I need you with me.” Emma’s eyes popped open at the comment and she flushed seeing that her real life was exactly like the dream she’d thought she’d been having.

“You’re real,” she said out loud, and Killian grinned before kissing her lips gently.

“Last time I checked, love. And you are the realest thing in the world to me.”

Now certain she was awake, his touch trailed higher and made contact with the place she wanted him most. His thumb grazed across her clit, his fingers moving inside of her and Emma squirmed for more friction and better access. The movement pulled Killian’s attention from that spot at her neck to her breasts and he pulled a taut nipple into his mouth and sucked.

“Fuck! Killian, I need more!”

He hummed a sound of affirmation against her breast as his thumb applied more pressure with its swirling motion around her clit. Killian knew exactly what he was doing to her but he kept his pace, causing Emma’s breath to catch and her thoughts to scatter. She moaned into the start of her impending climax and he pulled his mouth away from her breast to press kisses at her lips and jaw.

“I’ll never tire of that sound, Emma. Or the feel of you tightening around me. You want this just as much as I do.” Emma shook her head.

“More. I want it so much more.”

His groan as he pushed her over the edge only heightened her pleasure, sending her soaring only to come back down as he trailed kisses down her body. She knew exactly what he intended with that wandering mouth and the thought had her already buzzing again. It didn’t matter that he’d shattered her world with the feel of his fingers, she was greedy for more, desperate for the feel of his tongue on her.

“I love how responsive you are, Emma.”

She jumped a little as Killian kissed the inside of her thigh, taking his time to draw out the anticipation. She closed her eyes, unable to handle how good it felt and how hot he looked at the same time. He left her a jumble of nerves, a swirling collection of sensation gripping the sheets like a vice. She was helpless to her desires and so far gone that when he swiped a lick from her sex to her clit she nearly yelped. Words couldn’t describe this. It was everything and not enough at the same time.

“I love you,” Emma said during one moment of almost clarity, with a lust induced airiness sounding through the words. Killian growled as he lapped at her and the vibrations sent her shuddering through another climax, somehow stronger and more luscious than the first.

“I love you too, Emma. More than anything.”

The affirmation as he made his way back to her had Emma riled with a need to have him inside her now. She wanted him to feel what he’d done to her and to drive him as crazy with need as she was. Flipping their positions so she was now on top, she moved to straddle his cock as she pressed her hands against his chest. The feeling of his muscles as they tensed in anticipation had her smiling, but when she lowered onto him, allowing him to fill her as she tightened around him, that smile faded to a look of pure pleasure.

“Emma love, I want to give you everything you want, but if you don’t move, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”

Appeasing his request, she did just that, riding up and down and giving them both everything they craved to get to that crest of ecstasy faster and harder. When she finally let go, careening into that state of bliss once more, and he followed, Emma lay back on the bed, cheek to his chest and tried to regain her breathing.

“I know I’ve said this before, but I really can’t wait for this show to be over.” Killian smiled.

“And why’s that love?”

“Because I have all sorts of ideas about what I’d like to do to you, given a whole Sunday with nowhere to go and nothing to do.”

Emma saw the heat flash in his eyes, and knew they’d both be incredibly late if she allowed them even a moment more in bed together. Quickly, she scurried from the bed into the master bath and only dared to look at him again when she was about to close the door.

“I gather you don’t trust yourself in the shower with me this morning, love.” She nodded, unashamed of the fact that his naked body, intense cerulean gaze, and bed head was too much temptation for her this morning.

“We’ll never get there if we do.” He stretched out a bit and she tracked the motion, already regretting her decision to shower alone. Fuck the show. Actually, fuck her really.

“If you insist, love.”

Killian moved to the hallway to grab his own shower and she watched him walk away. Her one consolation in the face of no more sex was her certainty hat this was a forever kind of love, and she was willing to go the distance to make sure she had this every morning.

………………………….

As they made their way to the tent for the final time this weekend, Emma and Killian walked hand in hand, both a bit quieter than usual. Realistically, Liam would be back today, and that meant facing the words still left unsaid all over again. Would things be better? Or, as Emma feared, would her outburst yesterday have prompted a larger rift between the brothers? They’d barely made it through the lawns to the tent when they were greeted by the man in question looking rather contrite.

“Brother,” Killian said with a slight nod and a wary gaze as Liam bowed his head a bit.

“I owe both of you an apology,” Liam said without any other means of greeting. He looked at Emma specifically and went on. “You were right, Emma, about everything. There is no excuse for the way I’ve acted, but I have been in the wrong, and it’s about time I try and change that. I don’t expect your forgiveness just now, surely I’d have to earn it, but I do appreciate what you said if it means I can have a second chance to make this right.”

“As long as you make it right with Killian, you can consider us even. Oh, and Tink. You need to apologize to her too.” Liam went red, much to the surprise of Emma, who had never seen the man look embarrassed before.

“I’m aware of the missteps I’ve made there too.”

While Emma might have wanted a bit more information than that, she tampered down her curiosity and gave Killian a kiss on the cheek. Then, walking towards the tent, she left him to settle things with his brother. They needed a bit of privacy, and she needed a dose of something she had been missing the past two days – the comfort of her best friends.

“There you are, and with no broken knuckles. I assume Liam apologized then.” Emma nodded at Mary Margaret’s assessment.

“I’m just happy he did the right thing. Killian has really missed him.”

“Not that I’m not thrilled for Killian, and for you. Lord knows that you’ve both been through enough shit with the whole romance plotline, but I kind of just want to know what’s going on with him and Tink. Does that make me a terrible friend?” Ruby asked.

“If it does, then so am I because I’ve been wondering since I got here.” Emma looked at Belle curiously.

“Have they been together at all?” Emma asked and Belle shook her head.

“Every time Liam tries to get close she walks away, pretending to be busy with something. The crew has done a pretty good job of helping her avoid him.”

Emma glanced over to Tink who stood on the other side of the tent, not paying attention to the PA talking in front of her. She was lost in her own thoughts and Emma felt for her. It must be incredibly difficult to act strong in a moment like this, but there was a lot riding on her professionalism. Tink’s heart wasn’t the only thing on the line, her job was too, and having two parts of her world tangled up together like that must be burdensome.

“She’s protecting herself, which is natural after everything that’s happened,” Emma supplemented.

“But has anything actually happened between them? Or do you think she’s just uncomfortable because she gave too much away yesterday?” The friends all agreed that the latter was more likely.

“I think her heart has been breaking a little more every week. The further he got from the man she knew, the worse the hurt must have been.”

Emma couldn’t imagine going through the same thing with Killian as she said the words. He was so genuine and open and honest about what he wanted and who he was. It was one of the things Emma loved most about him. Just thinking that there ever could be a moment when she watched him transform from the man she knew into someone else made her heart hurt.

“Well, only time will tell if they can get through it,” Mary Margaret mused.

“Oh they’ll get through it,” Graham said with confidence as he approached the friends.

“How can you be so sure? And how long have you been listening?!” Graham’s eyes lit up at Ruby’s lack of composure from his surprise entrance into the conversation.

“Because they love each other. And love always finds a way.”

Ruby and Graham had a beat pass between them that went on longer than a normal conversation between friends or coworkers usually would. Emma had to wonder again if there was something more between them, but soon the moment was broken by a renewed sense of hustle under the tent.

“Speaking of ways, we should really all be making ours to our stations. I don’t know about you, but I am terrified of this macaroon challenge and I’m going to need all the time I can get.” Belle led Mary Margaret and Emma away just to whisper low enough so Graham and Ruby couldn’t hear “It’s like a freaking love fest under this tent. First Killian and Emma, Mary Margaret and David, Robin and Regina. At every step another one falls.”

“It is kind of crazy, isn’t it?” asked Mary Margaret.

“Someday we’ll laugh about this, I’m sure,” Emma replied.

“But not today, because I was serious about those macaroons,” Belle quipped.

The friends laughed together before being called up to their stations. Belle was right to be worried, this was an overwhelming challenge, creating three different varieties of macaroons in only a few hours was a lot of work. By the end of their time though, Emma had created three distinct flavors: lavender vanilla, dark chocolate raspberry, and a lemon meringue inspired infusion.

All of the bakers lined up for judging as they did each Sunday, eager to have the weekend behind them. Emma was also excited to see who would win and who would go home. Both came as a surprise to her. Tiana, with the help of some incredible macaroons took the title of star baker when Emma had thought it would be Killian, while David, despite his amazing Greek dancing, was sent home. You’d never have guessed though given his big smile. There was no real disappointment here for him.

“I was never actually going to win this thing, you know,” David said as he interviewed with Tink at the end of the judging. “It’s going to come down to Emma, Tiana, and someone else. Going home this week just means I can sleep in next weekend.” Emma laughed at David’s words before feeling Killian’s hand come to grab hers.

“I’ve got some good news, love. As part of our extended apology, we’ve been excused from our exit interviews this week.”

“What will we ever do with this newfound freedom?” Emma asked as she and Killian left the white tent behind them.

“I actually had an idea about that. I was hoping you’d move in with me.” Emma stopped walking.

“What?!” He gave her that boyish smile she loved, filled with hope and sincerity and continued his pitch.

“I love you, Emma, and I’m in this for the long haul. I know it’s fast, but I don’t want to spend another day not waking up to you.” Those were all excellent points. Still, Emma put up just a tiny bit of resistance.

“But why am I moving in with you? Why not the other way around?”

“I suspect you like my house more than yours, seeing as you’ve insisted on sex in each and every room.”

Emma heated at the thought. Again, he made an excellent point, and he was right, she really liked his house. Maybe it was crazy, and maybe it was too fast, but she was really considering this. When Killian came forward and took her other hand in his as well, she readied herself for the final attempt to convince her.

“You and I are different, Emma. Where everyone else may need more time, I don’t. I know how I feel, and I know it’s never going to change. I can see it in your eyes that you do to.”

“I do,” Emma whispered.

“So say yes,” Killian implored. She smiled, excited to do just that.

“Yes.”

With that, Killian wrapped her up in a great big hug, spinning her around a little bit before kissing her. Hell, if this was what he was like asking her to move in, what would he do when she agreed to marry him?

Woah, getting ahead of yourself there Emma, she thought as she stepped back from the kiss, but Killian remained close, taking stock of all her features as if trying to memorize this moment.

“Let’s go home, love.” She didn’t say it out loud, but Emma smiled as they continued on, thinking that really anywhere could be her home now, as long as Killian was with her.

Post-Note: So there we have it, another fluffy addition to ‘Just a Taste.’ I know it’s fast, but wow I really love the idea of Killian and Emma not being terrified to love each other (like they have been in the past on the actual show). So of course I translate that into them moving in with each other after dating for six weeks. What can I say? I’m a sucker for angst-less cuteness. Hope you guys enjoyed and thanks for reading!

[astralmorganite]

2.24.17 - Streaming

(Just a note; this post has been slowly constructed in my drafts for about a week now. This may be why some of it feels jumbled. But I loved the writing too much to not share it.)

Sometimes you feel like writing, but the only thing that comes out of your mind are a series of jumbled thoughts, loosely tied together by a stream of consciousness that is too difficult to put down into words. I will make an attempt at a coherent narrative, but of course, there are no guarantees this entry will actually make any sense at all.  Who knows where this stream may lead us! Perhaps we may call this an adventure of the mind?

To start, I suppose a rough introduction to the themes surrounding my thoughts today would be beneficial. Let’s throw some words out there, like love, and complexity. Love is complex. People are complex. Or in the least, people CAN be complex. 

As a kid, my mom and dad inadvertently taught me that you must always strive to be the best. This is an idea I wouldn’t necessarily call inherently bad, but the way my parents did it really flipped my mind around. That statement, “Always strive to be the best”, doesn’t really qualify what “best” means, so for my parents, best meant “better than everyone else.” This is what I would call an inherently bad idea. Its predicated upon the concept that there is a standard across the board of judgement upon every human, and that it is possible to be objectively better than others. My personal problems from this way of thought form in two ways. First, because every human values different traits, there is no way for a society to collectively agree upon the values that make a person objectively “the best”. Second, the only way to really judge others to determine placement is through personal judgement, which is already flawed by the fact that, if a uniform and objective ranking system is impossible to create, then the only possible judgement is going to be based on subjectivity. To objectively be “the best” amongst all humans, one would have to appeal to literally all and any subjective judgments. For example, if I decided book smarts were much higher on the scale of human greatness, then to satiate my qualification, the “best human” would need to be book smart, as well as be the absolute best at having book smarts. However, say Parker considered street smarts preferable to book smarts. The same human, to meet a universal qualification, would need to be both street smart and book smart, thereby satisfying both of our requirements for “the best.” Needless to say, one person cannot satisfy the qualifications of billions, therefore there is no objective “best person”, only humans with billions of perspectives and internal rating systems that will never be universal. 

For a long time, my internal rating system was based on complexity; it was based around how vivid and intricate a person’s personality was, and often I devalued humans whose openness made them unavailable for me to analyze in secret. A human who was too willing to share their personal complexity, regardless of how intricate that inner voice was, sat lower on my interests than, say, someone who would take more time to unfold. Perhaps this is also what drew me toward Parker, as his complexity was deeply hidden under years of caked-on darkness. But in any case, Parker seemed to be the exception to the rule. I’ve spent a lot of today analyzing relationships I’ve had, both platonic and romantic, for the purpose of understanding how my personal judgments have impacted the way my relationships have formed. I suppose if I were to give this stream of consciousness a “theme” so to speak, it would be this relationship between complexity, love, and judgment, and its implications across my life experiences. 

Internally, it means that I have always striven for personal intricacy. I have always taken the route, whether by force or by choice, to look deeply into parts of myself. And let me reassure, I don’t intend to pass this off as bragging or as though my life is somehow better than anyone else. I simply mean to say that this idea of “becoming the best” has lead me, at more ignorant times of my life, to consider my personal complexity to be the trait I’ve tried to perfect, the trait I have built up the most in an attempt to be “the best”.

But what even is personal complexity? What does it mean to be an intricate person? For me, its about the combination of life experiences, wisdom, and relationships with vulnerability.

Life experiences are certainly a unique category because by default, they’re already heavily riddled with complexities in of themselves. But in this case, I am using life experiences and personal history as a general marker of complexity, not as a source. To me, this means that a person can have a complex history, but this does not necessarily equate to being a complex person. I think the way personal experiences influence complexity as a personality trait is through the value, whether negative or positive, each person gains from their life experiences. For instance, perhaps there is this imaginary person, we’ll call her Gina, who has several negative life experiences. Perhaps in her youth, Gina was beaten up by a classmate repeatedly through her childhood, and now in her adolescence she perpetuates the violence through others. This is a life experience, a sad personal life experience. But what makes a person complex, in my opinion, is the person’s relationship with that life experience. Does Gina realize she is perpetuating what happened to her? Or does she think her own violence is normal and does she have no true understanding of the nature of her life? It is one thing to perpetuate violence, and have an understanding of why that violence is caused so you can attempt to correct it, even if it is difficult or you slip up. It is another thing to perpetuate violence and never question its source, or to ignore the issue until it happens again. The complex version of Gina would be the version of her who establishes a relationship with her personal history, where she consistently attempts to understand her violent tendencies within the context of how violence was used against her. Even if she continued to perpetuate violence, the complexity of her character stems from her continued efforts to understand her history within the context of how it affected her. And this can happen in both positive or negative life experiences. For instance, perhaps Gina did not get physically assaulted, but rather she received a gold star for every good assignment she turned in, so in adolescence, a gold star has become a symbol of hope for her, and she recognizes it. It is a similar phenomenon to attribute meaning to life experiences in the positive, however may be easier for some than its negative counterpart.

My life experiences have left me with a myriad of understandings, both positive and negative. I’ve built up relationships with parts of my past in an effort to understand their daily effects on me; a process I have done for reasons more than just personal complexity. Fortunately, in coming to an understanding with my history, I have also been able to find healing from some of these parts. As it relates to my personal complexity, though, I would say my most complex relationship would be with weddings and wedding culture. This is especially so because I am currently in the process of planning my own wedding, and the triggers that inevitably come have some damning effects. But nevertheless, I have sought to remedy my triggers with logic and reason. Many years ago, I would work weddings as a caterer alongside my aunt. Weddings weren’t triggering then, because I was working them, and not experiencing them as a friend of someone in the wedding. But when the people in my graduating class began to quickly rush into marriages, I suddenly began to feel this overwhelming sense of urgency. It was somewhat unprecedented, in that I have had triggers before, but suddenly at the start of my post-high school career, weddings became this huge expectation. It wasn’t necessarily that I specifically was being pressured by anyone, but I felt societal pressure coming from the reality that all my friends were moving on. I would argue that the societal pressure made me feel as though I should marry quickly, and coupled with my insecurity and fear of abandonment, it influenced me to feel triggered at the thought of any one else close to me getting married. 

So now I have this complicated relationship with weddings. Specifically, I have problems accepting that others may and will get married before me. I haven’t quite uncovered why it is that I envy those who come first, but in my journey of bettering myself, I’m always evaluating these triggers. I have come to some potential theories, but also as I approach my own wedding, I find that the triggers are not as prominent. Perhaps to solve my triggers, I just need to go ahead and get married. If this is the case, it is a mighty good thing that’s already in the works.

 But overall, this relates to my personal complexity because I have evaluated and analyzed my relationships with my trigger. I have developed this nuanced relationship regarding how societal pressures have had an effect on me. I now have a clearer understanding of myself and how that relates to my trigger, and it is not a relationship that can be replicated without my personal history. I could choose to just listen to the irrational thoughts that happen when I’m triggered, and fully believe that I am upset because other people don’t deserve to get married. Or, I can choose to explore these complicated life experiences that lead me to come to an understanding about my fear of abandonment, and choose to build up that complex history that gives me more depth of character.

Furthermore, the analysis of life experiences often leads to our second characteristic of a complex individual, this being the amount of wisdom a person has to offer. Personally, I find that wisdom does not equate to intelligence, but rather, wisdom is the measure of how much insight a person has into their own life, and to a degree the lives of others. This essentially means that a person with wisdom would be a person who is capable of introspection, and analysis of one’s own life. Although it is not required of my definition, I often find that people with higher amounts of wisdom are people who can, within a certain degree of accuracy, analyze others as well. Wisdom influences complexity in that it gives people the ability to have more nuanced views of behavior; a tool that a complex person would need to build their character and have better understanding of their own personality. For example, Gina might be a wise person because she can adequately identify some of the conflicting parts of her personality. She knows that her violent history is wrong, but understands that this was something she programmed into herself through her past trauma. Gina, as a wise person, could then be able to identify when others are perpetuating their pasts, by being able to identify that conflict within her personality, within herself. Gina, having built up understanding of her past, now builds up wisdom by understanding her future relationship with violence. I suppose one way to express this concept is that having a relationship with your history is to understand where you come from and that influence on your present, and to have wisdom is to understand where your personality will lead you in the future. Wisdom, therefore, adds to an individual’s character and complexity by giving them direction, and the capability to further build relationships with recurring themes within their lives. It gives complex people the ability to have an understanding of these themes, and gives them further connections to more intricate schools of thought.

I feel as though my understanding of my personality has come from the fact that as a child, I had absolutely no consistency or understanding of myself. It seemed as though everything was handed to me as a child; my understanding of the world was given to me by my parents and grandparents, my likes and dislikes were determined by things I already owned. I had very little control over who I was at that time, as I was rarely offered choice from the things that were brought into my world. I remember this being relatively consistent, until I was about twelve, when, in practically one day, I realized that I deserved to be whomever I wanted to be, and not what was given to me. From then forward, I devoted myself to personal understanding; starting small with things like developing my music tastes and eventually moving up to understanding the complexities of identity and identity politics in the greater world. I would say that my inner wisdom developed largely after I turned sixteen, and I moved to Utah. This changed my life, because now it was no longer about casually discovering myself alongside my friends, but it was establishing my personality despite being in a culture that was exactly opposite of what I already established. I had already begun to find my personal truths; I knew the Mormon church was objectively false (more on this in a later entry, perhaps), and that I identified as queer. But being thrown into a world where my views were suddenly in the minority, I had to learn where my personality fit into the grand scheme around me. I had to understand new mindsets while also retaining my personality. I would argue this time frame also helped me let go of pretentiousness, something I picked up in California growing up. But I had the capability to analyze the parts of my personality that would benefit me, and the ones that would not. This deeper understanding helps increase my ability to better function, although it also creates an interesting dichotomy between good and bad attributes within me. That dichotomy is what I believe gives a person complexity; being able to identify the good and the bad, and how those forces play into daily life. When a person does develop this understanding within themselves, they develop their personal complexity by adding to their list, so to speak, of attributes that they understand about themselves, and as that list grows, so does the complexity of their personality.

Which brings us to my last identifier, a relationship with vulnerability. My last two points had a lot to do with the ability to understand, and the desire to consistently search for understanding, but vulnerability is a beast of a different nature. If I had the time, I could probably write an entry entirely dedicated to vulnerability, but here I will only give a small introduction to my thoughts as they relate to personal intricacy. Vulnerability is a word I use here to describe openness; the ability to express deeper feelings, and the ability to accept those deep feelings within yourself. I would describe vulnerability in these two ways, the internal and external vulnerability, as two linked, but inevitably different phenomenons. Vulnerability manifests differently for different kinds of people, unfortunately, so it makes it a little more difficult to explain cleanly, but I would argue that it mainly rests upon a person’s security to decide what kind of vulnerability a person is experiencing. So while people may have external and internal vulnerability, it further breaks it down into high and low self esteem. I will identify these subsets as External-Low, External-High, Internal-Low, Internal-High. Although I won’t get into these categories in depth here, I promise a future entry will go over vulnerability in depth.

First and foremost, regarding vulnerability, is that the only way this does not contribute to personal complexity is to reject the idea of vulnerability entirely. Everyone experiences vulnerability at some point, but the truly complex person would have an understanding of it. Therefore, the only person for whom vulnerability does not give them a “leg up” so to speak, is the person who chooses to avoid understanding, who chooses to reject vulnerability. This is often why, personally, I have a hard time finding complex value in men absorbed in American Male culture. American Masculinity values are often geared towards dispelling all vulnerability, which creates people who deny, in the least, emotional complexity. But tangents aside, essentially this implies that embracing vulnerability at any of the four categories would improve personal intricacy, even if the low self-esteem category would, outside of this article, be looked down upon. That may be another entry in of itself. 

Vulnerability in the external would be a person’s ability to express their deeper feelings. Earlier in this post, I mentioned that I used to look down upon complex people who were too eager to share the inner complexities of their personality. High external-low vulnerability manifests, in my experience, in these kinds of people. High external vulnerability would imply a general ability to express deep or more difficult emotions, where low self-image causes a person to continually seek for people with whom to share their vulnerability. I have consistently found myself unable to properly develop connections with people who are so open about themselves that they share their deepest vulnerabilities at the start, although I think this may be an aversion to low self image, and not vulnerable people. 

Internally vulnerable people are the kinds of people who can look at their lives and experiences with a critical eye. By the word critical, of course, I intend it to be perceived not with negative connotations, but rather in the way one might watch a movie and critique what they watched. Internal vulnerability is manifested by the way that someone can look at their lives and establish connections, who can look at their emotions and understand them, even if it is difficult. 

These two kinds of vulnerability indicate complexity in that all people have life experiences just by existing, but a truly complex person strives to have understanding of both of these attributes within them. Complex people are always growing, always changing. They’re always analyzing and reviewing different aspects of their emotional range and coming to bigger understandings about themselves and the world around them. In some senses, vulnerability is a result of personal intricacy rather than a cause of it, but in either case the point is to have both within yourself. 

And perhaps my writing has given more away about myself than it has evaluated a topic. Perhaps I am ignorant of what complex people are truly like, and I merely base everyone on a scale of how closely they relate to me. I wouldn’t be surprised if this were the case. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of my MANY imaginary readers came to me and said “Hey Lisa, this isn’t what people are like; that’s just what YOU are like.” Given this statement, I would be forced to concede to them, because I’m not quite sure yet how to argue against epistemological solipsism, but damn it, I’ll try!

In any case, if this is just a summation of who I am as a person, I’m proud to be it.