#and i became so fixated because i was *also* just exploring what fear felt like and where my limits were

[comfymoth]

On that note, what were your thoughts on Coraline? Specially on that scene where the beldam counts down from 3 as she transforms into her true form.

Because to me, it made me realize that I love horror movies and their concepts, and what I didn't like of other specific transformation scenes was that they were... too real to me? Like they made me think about "if people could really be turned into animals how horrible would it be to leave every single thing you know about life behind and never get to do the human things you like and nobody knowing that something unnatural happened to you, they'd just see a weird dog or cow or chicken" and that was too terrifying of a thought to me

that specific scene didn’t really bother me the same way! i thought it was scary, sure, but that’s just because the beldam looks scary. a monster turning into a monster because they’ve always been one didn’t make me queasy the way other stuff did. she’s choosing to change shapes, no one else is making her, and it’s one she seems to like!

like you said, a part of it for me was being so upset at the idea of losing your original life and not being able to go back, being separated from people or just not being recognized at all. i really didn’t like the idea that it might be painful, or embarrassing, or that you could have absolutely no control over what was happening. the loss of control was HUGE for me.

in a weird way that’s probably what drew little kid me to werewolves though. because they do have to go through all of that, but in the end they can change back. and they don’t have to be alone because of it, you know, wolves are such social animals, it doesn’t have to be completely isolating. and also wolves are just fucking cool!!! so it was a way to explore all of that discomfort without it being so horribly overwhelming. it was cathartic!

and now i’m just Like This. so. haha. oops?

[4dkellysworld]

Alright so what I do to release is I bring up a thought or desire that I want to let go of. For example, a desire like I want to have clear skin. I then ask 'can I let go of this desire?" And then ask 'would I let go of this desire?' And finally I ask 'When?'. (Because I obviously don't want to carry that desire with me anymore and would like to be done with it, my answer towards those questions are always yes.) After the process I do tend to feel a little light sometimes, but then when I think about the desire again I still want it.

I just finished reading a pdf that goes into details on Lester's experience with dropping limitations and how he did it within those 3 months. And he basically talked about how some thoughts would take some time to drop and he would basically just keep releasing those until they were fully gone. Reading that helped me realize that maybe I am doing this right and I just need to keep releasing the desire and it will soon completely go. I have had this desire for almost 7 years now so i guess my attachment to it might be too strong and so that it why it's not going away in one session?

But anyways your inputs are always appreciated so if there is anything you want to let me know about or help me with, like maybe the conclusions i came to aren't fully correct, you can.

It does look like you're releasing correctly. However, as I've reiterated in many of my previous posts/answers now, releasing is just one form of letting go of ego, not the only one. I've found it best not to get too fixated on sticking to the one method and try to make everything fit into it by necessarily applying it to absolutely everything, it's better to assess each limitation on a case by case basis, be flexible and then do what feels right intuitively. It may be that releasing is not the best way to go about it for this particular desire. (But yes, for certain thoughts that are deeply rooted, it can take more than one session to completely release. It's best not to have expectations on how long it takes to release something)

Here are some other forms of letting go of ego you could explore if it resonates with you.

Identify the causative thoughts for why you don't have clear skin (for your example) and then drop them.

If we want a perfect body and we don’t have a perfect body, it means that we don’t have the conviction that we can make the body perfect. It means we are subconsciously holding in our mind a consciousness of an imperfect body. The body is an exact copy of the mind, the body being only our consciousness projected outwardly. We must change our subconscious thinking until we subconsciously have the conviction that our body is perfect. That will do it. - Lester Levenson, The Keys to the Ultimate Freedom

This follows the principle of taking responsibility for everything that happens to you, including the body and all circumstances. The body is simply a manifestation of your thoughts. For example, when people get sick, it's really that they are doing it to themselves (most often it's unconscious) as a result of various thoughts they had previously that became a habit and mindset. Taking Lester as an example, he found out that his health issues were a result of wanting love and approval from the world, wanting to change things in the world and fearing death itself. For past me who had health challenges, I realized I was used to thinking as the victim and believed that I needed to be in a state that garnered pity (such as being sick) in order to be safe and perceived as non-threatening and this naturally manifested eventually in health issues because I wanted to be safe and felt I wasn't! In other examples Lester has said, he has mentioned that skin rashes are really manifestations of mental irritations or conflicts that have now surfaced and to correct this is to identify what it is and then resolve it (undo it, see it isn't true, drop it). I've also realized that everything on the body are quite literally just thoughts that have taken form and are being expressed on the body (including suppressed emotions which is why releasing is important!) - if the body is not in a state of harmony, then the mind is not either because all comes from the mind. Obviously all limitations are silly to hold onto once you identify what they are and they should be dropped. These are just examples and your own thoughts that manifested into skin that you don't prefer won't necessarily be the same as these.

2. Identify why this particular desire exists. What does it symbolize to you? Beauty? Freedom? Purity? Health? All of the above or something else? Be honest with yourself and see what it represents to you. This is the lack that you perceive, this is what you think you don't have but in fact as infinite beings we never lack anything, the lack and limitations are just illusions, old programming & conditioning we once believed and accepted that are now operating automatically in the background but it isn't true. Then can you see how that lack isn't true after identifying it (feel free to reason it out and use logic to see how it is untrue)? If not, apply the exercise detailed here to what you perceive you lack (replace love with whatever it is you identified).

Once this core lack has been properly addressed and dissolved, you could see yourself having the symbol too (in whatever way suits you) but I think it's important not to attribute fulfillment or happiness to these externals. See first that it is all coming from within you then once you've set that right, you can have the symbol too if you want - so long you understand it's only a symbol and you aren't being dependent on it for fulfilling perceived lack.

You could try let go of it in a 4 step process as I've detailed in the second part of this ask here. I recommend doing each step completely and mindfully before moving onto the next rather than rush through them and then have to repeat the whole thing again.

Release any emotions and feelings attached to the limitation that is to be dropped by bringing it to mind and allowing them to be. You can use this method as a guide and modify it how you feel is best

Investigate within and identify the causative thoughts for the limitation then drop them

Identify what the core essence(s) are that you believe you lack (that this limitation represents or what you want this symbol to fulfill) and then either drop the belief of lack or allow yourself to see, feel and know that you are complete, whole and fulfilled (using whatever method feels right).

(Optional) See yourself having the symbol if you want - so long you understand it's only a symbol and aren't dependent on it for fulfilling perceived lack.

In all of this, the attitude is not to try to get rid of or fix something that is "wrong". Apply lots of love, kindness, compassion, understanding and patience. Don't fight the dream - the more you resist, the more it persists but what you look at and accept is given the opportunity to be released and dissolved. Accept everything and see them as neutral, even the parts that you don't prefer. Allow everything to be as it is. Then allow yourself to change your mind and think differently in ways that you prefer, without trying to make anything happen in the world. As Neville said "Indifference is the knife that severs. Feeling is the tie that binds."

Patience is key. Drop all expectations. Just focus on your state of consciousness, instead of getting things in the world. Don't look to the world for what is within.

[msiconoclast]

Again - Chapter 3

Pairing: Jaebeom x Reader

Genre: romance, angst, smut, slow-burn

Summary: Im Jaebeom was the single most significant part of your college experience. A chance encounter brings you together again many years later when you’ve both settled into your careers (Jaebeom is a music producer and Y/N is a journalist). As you take a walk down memory lane, you reflect on your understanding of love and its many trials. Some loves are meant to make you grow, and some are meant to help you heal. And some are destined to be both.

Word Count: 3.4k

Rating: 18+ (this chapter only)

A/N:  This could be The sex scene of this whole story.  I haven’t decided.  Hopefully it serves its purpose.  Guess we’ll see.  And.....oh yeah, this story is not going to have a linear timeline.  

Story Index:

Prologue    Chapter 1   Chapter 2

It started with a trace of fingers up the legs.  Or maybe it was a whisper behind your ears.  But here you were, pinned down by his strong frame on top of you, writhing as JB nibbled away at your neck.  The air was thick and damp inside the cave.  Even with the small fire crackling red hot just six feet away, goosebumps still ran up and down your spine.  Your cheeks, however, were flushed.  You think his fingers would probably incinerate if he touched your face right now.  Time was hazy inside this little seaside cavern and you don’t know how long it’s been since you ducked in to hide from the relentless storm outside.  Cuddling for body heat had quickly escalated to lips smashed together and hands wandering to explore each other.  As fingers sought to capture and memorize every single curve and turn of your bodies, it felt as though you had been here, in this hideaway, kissing since the dawn of time.

His lips broke away from your neck and started moving lower across your chest, your stomach, leaving behind a trail that electrified your skin.  They were heading towards the part of your body that had tensed and contorted itself into a bundle of nerves. The epicenter of desires.  You bit your lips and sank your fingers into his hair, not sure whether you wanted him to speed up or slow down.  Just as you prepared yourself for the next wave of pleasure though, everything stopped. 

Confused, you tried to crane your neck and find his eyes.  But you were surprised by gentle taps on your thighs as his hands then led them to open up wide in front of his face.  His lips reattached to your body at your knees and the journey now moved north along the longitude of your thighs.  It was slow, and agonizing as he administered every lick and tickle, clearly intending to subjugate you to his whims utterly and completely.  You arched your back every time his tongue made contact with your skin.  It felt as though he had a map of your most sensitive spots and with a clinical focus, he attempted to mark off every one of those spots on your legs.  And every time he found one, he got a whimper out of you as a reward.  You tried to rub your legs together for some friction but was punished by a bite instead.  If it weren’t for the fact that your hands were clamped down by his, you’d probably be digging your nails deep into his arms.    

When his mouth finally made contact with your soaked panties, he pulled away again.  And the next thing you felt was a draft of cool air up the insides of your thighs towards your core. 

“Oh.” was all you could stutter and swallow. 

JB wasn’t known for his patience but he did have a thing for control.  You were always exactly where he wanted you to be, locked into his grasp but an arm’s length away both physically and emotionally even when he brought you to the highest of highs.  The same intensity with which he gave you pleasure, you wanted to find that in his eyes.  Though his sight was always trained on you, watching your every reaction, it was as if his gaze was always behind an impenetrable glass shield.  All you ever saw were your own desperate desires reflected back at you.  

You felt completely exposed to him, not just physically, but as if he could see through your skin and touch every raw nerve.  While you could not deny the pleasure he granted, it frightened you to be exposed like this, each thought and emotion under someone else’s scrutiny and him the master of your sanity and satisfaction.  You didn’t understand this fear.  You never did, but it was as much a part of you as your need for intensity and frenzy.  You liked to think that the mix of the two led to defiance, but to someone from a distance it probably looked a little more like recklessness.  Regardless, control was not something you would hand over to JB on a silver platter.  

So you managed to untangle one of his hands from your legs and led it to your mouth.  A lick of the fingertips and your sweet warm mouth gently enclosed his finger.  Before he knew it, he’s pumping two fingers in and out of your mouth while your tongue caressed the pads of his enclosed fingers.  You clearly took him by surprise as he tried to stifle the low grunt that escaped his throat.  For a minute, he was fixated on the sight of his fingers disappearing in and out of your mouth and appeared to be in a trance.  You used the moment to push him down on his back so that you end up sitting straddled on top of him.  Your fingers brush across his taut abs before making a quick exit of his belt.  And as you tug his pants down, you could see that he was hard.  Oh, he was very hard.  

The tip of his cock twitched as you carefully traced its veins.  You moved directly on top of his bulge and started to grind your hips into him.  Circular and back and forth, you varied the friction and pressure so that you could bring him back down from the edge every time his jaw gritted a bit too tight.  Eyes closed, JB was a sight to behold. Skin covered with a bright sheen and hair tousled from sweat, you’ve never seen him so compliant in this position before.  In fact, you couldn’t remember any other time that he’s allowed you to be on top.  You knew he was enjoying himself by the way he thrusted up his hips to meet yours and the loud hisses, the almost-grunts, that he let out.  But you wanted more.  You wanted to crack through that veneer of calm and cool and see what was really underneath it.  What was he hiding from you?  Was he also in free fall every time your bodies touched?  And did he also pray that you would be there to cushion the fall at the end?  So many questions yet no answers were ever found in his beautiful fucking face.  Well, you just had to force the confession out of him then.

Taking his fingers out of your mouth, you suddenly leaned down and pushed him into a deep kiss.  This gave you the opportunity to place his hands above his head and, using the silk scarf that was tying your hair up, restrain his hands to the camping packs nearby.    

“What are you doing?”  He finally caught on to what was happening and turned his face sideways.

Something I’ve wanted to do for a very long time. 

But you remained silent and continued to undress him.  Once he was completely naked beneath you, you decided to take a moment to simply take in the glorious view.  You always felt that women’s bodies were more pleasant to look at, with the natural harmony of its curves and smoothness of its skin.  But you now realized that the male form, this particular male form, with its dramatic cliffs and implied strength, held a power that was perhaps even more mesmerizing.  

You backed yourself off so that you could wrap your fingers around his cock.  Giving it a tight squeeze, you then began pumping it at a languid pace.  He seemed to relax thinking that he knew where this was going.  Only if.  At the same time, you moved your other hand to your own clit and started touching yourself to the same pace that you were stroking him.  As the arousal spread from your core, your grip tightened bit by bit until your rhythm became almost totally erratic.  Though his face revealed no clues, his hands dug into the blanket by his sides.  He threw his head back in pleasure and his breathing got shallower.  You were starting to feel light-headed and ready to give in to the delirium that was overtaking your body.

It was a loud groan from JB that brought you back from the edge.

Wait a minute, this wasn’t the plan.  

It took all of the willpower you had left to push yourself off of him.  As extra precautions, you backed up a good distance away entirely.  For a minute, you just sat panting and trying to gather your wits.  JB tried to tug his wrists free from their restraints.  Good thing you had been a girl scout in your youth and had actually learned how to tie a proper knot.  Never know when these things come in handy.  Finding his predicament to be more than a little temporary, it finally dawned upon him that you were the one in charge now.  

“Let’s pick up where you left off, hmm?”

Stretching yourself out, you opened your legs as wide as possible to give him a good view of you dripping wet core as your fingers encircled your clit at a feverish pace.

“Like what you see?  You like to watch me right?”  You asked in between heavy breaths. 

For a good show, you slowly rolled your body up and down to exaggerate all of your curves.  You did always have a flair for the dramatic.  Then you dipped two fingers into your core and used your other hand to tease your nipples.  The new sensations pushed you to the edge and you couldn’t help but let out a breathy whine.  That whine then turned into loud moans.  You wanted to make sure he knew just how much pleasure you were giving yourself.  Somehow, you managed to lock eyes with him all at the same time and to your great satisfaction, you finally saw his eyes flinch and his jaw lock shut.

“Looks like I can get myself off without you just as well.”

That must have stung because it finally sparked something in his eyes.  You weren’t sure if it was anger or lust but it looked like brilliant fireworks either way.  It’s no fun if a girl can’t play with a little fire once in a while.  

“Stop it!  No, come here.”  

“What did you say?  Sorry, I’m a little busy here.”

He let out a sigh and his chest sank in resignation.  You were ready for his retort but he took a long pause instead.  Something seemed to shift in the air and a heaviness creeped up on the mood in the cave.

“I know you don’t need me.”  He finally spoke in a soft voice.  “There was this candle that you really liked.  The one that smelled like a fig tree.  We got it from that little apothecary with the birdcages down in Japantown, remember?  It was the only thing I could find after you packed up and left.  You were...so thorough.”  He closed his eyes and seemed lost in thought.  “I kept going back to that place to buy that same candle over the years.  When I couldn’t sleep, I’d light the candle and sit in the dark…...the apartment would smell like you.  The place closed down two years ago.  I showed up one day and it was just gone.  Nobody knew if they’d moved or where the owner went.  And I never found that candle again anywhere else.”

Eyebrow quirked up.  This was not what you expected.  With your legs brought back together, you curled up, put your head on your knees and stared at him.

“There were nights when I woke up in the dark…...and thought you were still there.  It’s like I could hear you humming in the bathroom.”

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until he stopped speaking.  The silence sat between the two of you like an unwelcome guest.  

You had painted this epic battle of will with JB in your head.  Him surrendering at the first skirmish was not something you had prepared for.  But wasn’t this exactly what you wanted?  Didn’t you want him to finally put his feelings on the table and show his cards?   

It dawned on you in that moment that you had long lost sight of what you were fighting for.  This push-and-pull with JB was all you could remember now.  Winning was all you could remember now.    

In silence, you moved back to his wrists and quickly undid the constraints.  You felt tired all of a sudden, like someone had popped you like a balloon and let all the air out of you.  All you could do was lay yourself down on the blanket and curl up into a fetal position.  You wanted sleep to wash over you and put you out of this state of confusion you were in.

As you drifted in and out of sleep, you felt JB’s body envelop you as he curled up behind you and pulled you into his chest.  You could feel him pull your hair back and kiss your cheek and ear.  You relaxed into the warmth of his body and exhaled as he planted tiny kisses on your shoulder and elbow.  There was something intimate in the way he deliberately avoided any gesture that was remotely sexual.  Something tender in the way he softly hummed some unknown tune while he stroked your hair.   And when he finally threaded his fingers with yours, you felt safe again for the first time in a very long time.  

“I missed you.”  

There it was.  Three little words that you never thought you’d hear him say.  You wanted to pinch yourself to see if you were dreaming.

Instead, you pinched him on the side.  Hard.

“Ow! Hey, what was that for!”

You rubbed where you had pinched him.  Then you pinched him on the other side.  A little less hard this time.

“Say it again.”

“I missed you.”  

“Say it again.  I want to hear you say it again.  Don’t stop until I tell you to.”

Upon hearing this, he nuzzled himself into your neck and whispered those three words repeatedly until you finally turned around and shut him up with a kiss.  

You’d kissed JB countless times before.  Knew the outline of his lips by heart and nibbled them in your sleep. But you always had to chase those kisses.  This time though, it was as if he was discovering how to kiss you for the very first time and he threw his whole body, his entire being into it.  Soon he was on top of you and crushing your lips with full force.  You felt as if you were going to suffocate and your lungs would explode.  But you didn’t want him to ever stop.  As his tongue parted your lips and entwined with yours, you find yourself moaning into the kiss.

“Let me make you feel good, hmm?  Remember how good it used to feel?”

You kissed him back as tacit consent.  With that, he moved his mouth down to your nipple and as he teased it with his tongue, his hand sought out your clit.

“So wet already…so wet for me.”

That was all the encouragement he needed to insert not one, but two fingers into you.  With his thicker knuckles, the stretch was incredible.  When his finger found that familiar spot inside of you, you both hissed and tensed up with anticipation.  You felt like you were losing your mind and all you wanted was for him to be inside and fill you up.  But he was clearly in no hurry.  It was like he was determined to go all day and all night.  He kept one finger curled at the spot while the other one pushed in and out of you.  And when he added his thumb back at your clit doing circles, you finally broke down.  A tsunami of pleasure swallowed you and threw you up and down like a broken boat.  It felt like forever before the waters finally calmed down.

“Mmm…...you did so good baby.  So hot.”  He inserted his index finger into this mouth and licked it clean.  “So sweet.  Are you ready to cum again?”

He said it so casually as if he was asking if you wanted a second serving of ice cream.  Meanwhile, you felt like you were still floating in outer space.  

“You don’t have to do anything.  Just rest.”

As he said this, he got behind you and cuddled up to you once again.  You were both drenched in sweat at this point but you didn’t mind one bit.  After he made sure that you were comfortable leaning into him, he pulled your hips towards him and proceeded to attack your clit again.  This time he took it slow and as he massaged your clit, he pushed himself into you so that you could feel his hard cock against your ass.  You whimpered and bit your lips as you felt overwhelmed and overstimulated.  Seeing this, he alternately cooed at you and nibbled at your ear.

“Sshh……..just a little bit more.  Open up for me babe.  Let me take you home.”

And with that, he started to push his cock into you.  Even though you were still slippery from your last orgasm, you couldn’t take more than an inch of him at a time.  You both grunted as he pushed ever so slowly into you until he was finally fully sheathed within you.

“Stay still.  Please.  Just for a minute.”  You muttered in a high pitched voice.

He felt so incredibly full inside of you that you felt goosebumps up and down your arms even though you were burning up in heat.  With his body wrapped around you and your bodies connected fully, you had never felt so close to JB before.  Your bodies had finally merged and became one, and as you rested your head back, you could feel his heartbeat syncing up to yours.

So this is what it’s like to feel whole.

“Babe, I have to move.”   

And with that, he began to thrust long strokes into you.  With every stroke, he winded you up tighter and tighter. Though his breathing fastened, his lips never left your ear or your neck, somehow planting the most tender and delicate kisses over your skin.  Your bodies moved to the same rhythm.  As he pushed into you, you pushed back so that you could feel him deeper, closer, and fuller.  Sensing that you were inching towards the edge again, he moved one hand back on your clit and started attacking it at full force.  At the same time, he buried his head in your neck and started pounding into you at a ferocious speed.  You wanted to scream from the intensity and the pleasure, but you found yourself unable to get a single sound out of your throat.  And it was in this silent cry you both found your climax and came with hands joined together and bodies melting into each other.

“I love you.”

Three little words again.  But these three words startled you.   If you weren’t tired to the bone, you’d turn around and pull his face up for close inspection.  But as it were, all you could do was reach back for him with your arm.

That is, until all you could feel was the blanket where he laid just a moment ago.

Off at the end of your feet, the crackling fire all of a sudden seemed to burn ten times bigger and hotter.  Before you could even react, a spark jumped out from the fire and landed at the edge of the blanket you were lying on.  The flame flew towards you with full intent.  You wanted to get up and run but found yourself completely immobile and anchored to the ground.  In that moment, you did the only thing you could do.

You screamed.

.

Then you opened your eyes.  

.

.

And it was Wednesday morning.  

Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest and you were still out of breath. 

You’d just had a wet dream about JB after seeing him for the first time in seven years.  

Fuck.

And it was only just Wednesday.

.

.

.

Previous

[paper-n-ashes]

sparks and embers - chapter 6

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron 

Chapter 6 - Ruin

Words: 5.9k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Mentions of war/death, kissing, a healthy dose of the ‘sharing a bed’ trope, ANGST, sexual education because who doesn’t want to read about that in fanfiction, vague description of a female medical procedure

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

~

A softened sigh left me, knowing it was probably time to let Poe say his piece. He’d been so silent until now that I felt compelled to hear what had been stirring inside his mind while I’d held him in quiet contempt.

“Alright. I’m listening.”

He flicked on one of the dimmed lamps next to the bed, a gentle glow illuminating the room, watching as he proceeded to carefully extricate himself from under the sheets, the soreness as a result of the rehab we’d performed today now evident in his concentrated expression.

I drew myself up into a seated position on the sofa as he made his way to sit on the small table at my front, not attempting to meet my eyes until he’d slowly placed himself down on the metal. His face was less than a meter from mine, pupils drifting upwards until finally, our stares locked.

“I’m sorry,” he declared, his words heavy. “I understand why you’re angry. I get it, okay? Years of battle after battle, fight after fight, it becomes difficult to consider those working under the First Order’s control as people. People with families, loved ones, even children. They appear as targets, there simply to be eliminated. And it’s you or them. Either you perish, or you put the rational thought into the back of your mind and fight back.”

Poe glanced down, fixated to the floor, his jaw tight. “I do think about it sometimes, the people I’ve... murdered. I’ve spent sleepless nights wondering if killing in the name of freedom was a good enough reason to send people to an early death. When you don’t see their faces it’s…. easier. You don’t see the bloodshed, the corpses. You just see the fiery explosion of their ships fading into the black void of space.”

I stayed rigid in the sofa, hands clutching the into cushions. It was difficult to hold down the simmer of anger that boiled in my stomach, since everything so far only reinforced what I felt like I’d determined hours ago. Even while my demeanour remained stormy, Poe continued.

“All I heard in my childhood was my father reminding me of the way he and my mother fought for what they believed to be right. Both of them lived and battled through a time like ours, under the thumb of a regime hungry for power, sparing no innocents in their pursuit of it.” He became lost in memory, the aura drifting around him stained with a subtle sorrow. “‘People were hurting. People were suffering. Your father and I couldn’t sit and do nothing.’ That’s what my mother had told me, a child of two, as her reasoning for joining the Alliance in their efforts to push back against what threatened all type of freedom in this galaxy. My parents offered to sacrifice their lives on the tiniest shred of hope that me, and every other being on every planet, would see peace in their lifetime.”

His eyes finally shifted back to focus on mine. They were determined, yet soft, the chocolate fibers of his irises melting together. “I just... wanted to be like her. Like them. I wanted to do what they did. I wanted them to be proud of me, to have faith that their legacy would live on after they were gone. To provide freedom and peace like they had. Even if that meant sacrificing my own life, even if that meant killing those who opposed it. I had to. I had to join the people that wanted the same thing as me.”

A growing ferocity began to radiate, his voice severe. “I witnessed so many of my fellow soldiers, my friends, die thoughtlessly at the hands of others. And I wanted them to feel the same pain that I felt. Is it hypocritical? Of course, I know that. Is it cruel? Yes, murder is rarely not. But it's in the name of protection, defiance against control from an overpowering force. Those who fight with the First Order, who take over planets and kill innocents for the sake of power, they know what they’re doing. They know the consequences, the outcome, the hold the galaxy will be strangled under if they succeed. And they do it anyway. Our cause isn’t more noble, it’s self-defence. We’re trying to protect the ones who aren’t able to fight back, and those who don’t deserve to be born into a world that will crush them into submission.”

Poe’s features turned darker, leaning in close. “I will never stop thinking about the lives I’ve taken. I will never not hold myself accountable for the sins I’ve committed. But I will also not sit and do nothing. I don’t need you to accept it, but at least try to understand. You and I want the same thing, in the end, to save as many people as possible in our short lifetime. I’m just doing the best I can to see that through.”

While I instinctively took a breath in preparation to speak, nothing came. He’d rendered me speechless.

I had no reply to give, no counterargument, no flaw to point out. His honesty floored me, raw emotion and long-felt guilt rising up for me to observe so openly. The pain behind his eyes seemed so much more acute than any of the other injuries he’d sustained, not trying to shield it from my view as he spoke.

I tried to find words, anything to articulate my forgiveness. Because I did understand. He’d made me see it, the same anguish over death that I felt. But he’d also made me realise what a coward I was.

Against the people who would kill him or control him, he fought back. While I hid myself away under the guise of selflessness.

I thought I was the hero of my story, giving up my home, my old life, for the benefit of the downtrodden people of this planet. In reality, I was a scared little girl, too gutless to push back against those I, and so many others in this galaxy, feared. And here Poe was, putting himself in harm’s way, every day, in the hopes that he could take away our fear forever.  

He began to rise in front of me, taking my lack of reply as an answer in itself. He seemed despondent, his face sullen as he turned to limp back to the bed.

A different kind of fury coursed through me, fury at myself for how easily I’d judged him, at how cruelly I’d treated him.

I couldn’t let the night end this way.

I picked myself up from the sofa and quickly lunged at his wrist, pulling him to face me. He was surprised, glancing with wide eyes to where my hand had caught him, then to my face. I tried desperately to convey it there, everything I wanted to say, struggling to find my voice. Poe waited for me to speak the words I clearly had sitting on the edge of my tongue, but everything I conjured didn’t seem to be enough, the jumbled thoughts swirling incoherently in my mind, never letting me quite grasp onto them long enough to form exactly what I needed to express.

Tension filled the space between us, thick and overwhelming. I soon began outlining the lines of his face, the crease currently stuck in his brow, the curve of his nose, the contour of his jaw, the arch of his lips.

My hands found themselves catching each side of his face, pulling his mouth to mine in a desperate kiss.

I’d held it back for so long, too long, now unable to deny the burning urge to melt my lips into his. He was alarmed at first, his mouth frozen from movement as he comprehended my sudden attack.

Yet quickly he was syncing his lips fluidly with mine, a hand rising to clutch the back of my neck, pulling me closer. His casted arm curled around my waist, pressing my body into his, feeling the heat radiating off his chest.

The fire in my lower abdomen roared into bright red flames again, spreading into the rest of my body like molten lava. He tasted even better than I’d imagined, our tongues beginning to find each other through parted mouths. Fingers moved into his hair, hungrily grasping at the curled strands, causing a low moan to seep from his throat. The sound made me even more forceful in my need for his lips to be connected with mine, barely having time to breathe in-between our eager kisses.

I wanted to have him, all of him, so deeply it was painful, the searing burn lighting up in my veins.

Don’t do this Alexys. It will ruin you.

My breath hitched as I reluctantly pulled away, looking up, seeing his pupils swollen. He was cautious then, moving his hand from my neck to push a strand of hair behind my ear, almost if at any moment I would flee from his embrace.

And that’s what half of me was begging to do, the other screaming at me to lock our lips together again. I felt split into two, a cracking beginning to divide me roughly in the middle.

I could see Poe searching through my gaze, trying to assess my thoughts, whether it was safe to continue. He leaned in gradually, testing my reaction. I didn’t recoil this time. I didn’t want to.

His lips melted into mine, less insistent than before, although somehow just as intimate. Inhibitions lowered, my hands slid down to his chest, noticing the hard muscles underneath my palms and feeling the fire inside me surge. I wanted to feel the bare skin underneath, to have it pressed against my own. To explore the other parts of him covered by clothes. To forget even for a short time that this was wrong, that I shouldn’t be doing this.

Poe gently withdrew, leaning his forehead into mine. “I know.”

“Know what?”

He exhaled a long breath. “I know you don’t want to do this.”

I replaced my hands to his cheeks. “You have no idea how much I want this. How much I want you.” The truth of the words made me feel both vulnerable and safe, for the first time giving in to the yearning I’d hoped to keep locked inside my chest.

He tensed, a slight tremble in the arm that curved around my body. But his face grew sombre, almost... sad. “You don’t. Not completely. I can feel you wanting to hold back,” he murmured. “I can feel your fear.”

I swallowed hard, unable to refute him. “…I’m sorry. I want to. But I just… I can’t."

We both looked down, my confirmation making the tone of our connection shift. He was silent for what felt like a long time, and we stayed motionless in our embrace, neither wanting it to end, knowing it was inevitable that we would have to part.

“Why?” he breathed. “Why are you afraid?”

I wanted to be honest with him, like he had been for me, so much the sensation felt like it was clawing out from inside me, determined to burst through the skin. But there was a barrier there, one I had forged long ago. Unyielding and impenetrable to anything or anyone.

Although, I felt another realisation simmer to the surface of my mind, one that was not nearly as exposing, but still true.

“You’re going to leave. And I have to stay here. I don’t… I don’t want that to hurt any more than it has to.”

It seemed to hit him then, like he hadn’t let the thought enter his mind before. The awareness of our predicament shone brightly in his eyes, a light switch flickering on.

His hand moved to my cheek, grazing his thumb softly against the skin, my heart throbbing inside its cage at his light touch. I watched as eyes scanned over my face, back and forth, as if memorising the features. It was then I knew he’d come to the same conclusion.

It wouldn’t be long before we would part, most likely to never see each other again. If we went any further, if we crossed that line, the pain of saying goodbye would become so much more unbearable.

Almost simultaneously, we let our hold on each other loosen, the disappointment in the air almost palatable on my tongue. The smouldering inside had burnt out, suffocated by the gloom weighing heavy in my chest. Poe took my hand in his, his eyes pleading. “Can I ask one thing of you?’

I moved my head in a slow nod.

“Sleep in this bed with me tonight. Just sleep. I promise.” It was an earnest request, his face imploring and unguarded.

In contempt of the voice in my head bellowing at me that this was a terrible idea, I agreed. “Okay.”

Together we tentatively walked to each side of the mattress, making no rush to slip under the covers and settle into the pillows. I faced away, fearing if I looked at Poe's charming face any longer, I would surrender to the pull of desire that never seemed to relent. I didn’t know how I was ever going to be able to fall asleep like this, his body radiating an energy that vibrated into the space between us, keeping me all too aware of his presence.

There was movement, a dip in the mattress, Poe’s arms curling around my torso, pulling me close. His face buried itself into my hair, the warmth of his gradual exhale sending charged shivers down my spine. Placing my arms over his, silently accepting his embrace, I felt my heart thump a calming glow through my chest, all the way to the end of my limbs.

I’d never felt so peaceful, so whole, becoming lost in the comfort of his hold, wishing I could bask in it forever.

But reality bit at me, cold and uninvited, reminding me of the goodbye I would have to give soon enough.

*

We were still entangled when consciousness came again, the dim light of early sunrise leaking through my window. Poe’s arms circled around me, my body fitting perfectly into his.

He was still asleep, his face resting just at the back of my head, slow breaths bristling into my hair. I relished the feeling of it all, trying to commit it to my memory.

I stayed there, motionless, waiting for time to run out, knowing I would be chasing the feeling of this in the months, maybe years, to come. Thinking about his future absence made me terrifyingly lonely, even with his arms wrapped around now.

Eventually the seconds ticked down to my chronometer alarm buzzing, rustling Poe awake from his slumber. I assumed he would begin to move, pulling away, this one night that bonded us together finally ending. Yet he stayed as unmoving as I had been, the only indication he had awoken the increased depth of his inhale, a small tense of his muscles. I went to move, to switch the screeching sound off, but he clutched me back into his chest, squeezing tight.

As much as my heart thumped at the pressure of his hips into mine, the noise of my alarm was grating. “Let me turn it off,” I whispered. “I’ll come right back.”

Poe loosened his grip reluctantly, allowing me to reach over to the screeching machine and mute its sound. I settled back comfortably into his arms again, as he nuzzled his face into my neck, lips faintly placing a kiss on the skin.

“Poe… please… don’t…”

His sigh whistled past my neck. “Come with me, when I leave.”

It annoyed me, his fleeting demand so easily spoken. As if I could suddenly give up all that encompassed my life before he appeared, the beings that depended on me. But his voice was so sincere, so entreating in the early morning, that the irritation dashed away from the forefront of my mind.

“You know I can’t do that.”

He acknowledged my answer in the shift of his body from around me, moving himself out of the bed we had shared for the night and leaving me alone underneath the sheets.

It burned, the unprecedented disconnection of his shape from mine, my chest forming into a black hole in the realisation I might never feel him that close again.

I wanted to let my emotion to take over, to give in to the pain that rushed to me now as the finality of our night cradled together became evident. But I refused to release it, my resolve from the night before holding strong. I knew I’d made it harder by giving in to Poe's innocent plea of sharing a slumber within his embrace, but I wasn’t going to let our farewell completely ruin me.

With a forced composure, I rose from my bedside, focusing on the appointments scheduled to fill my day. Through my haze I recalled many of them being young female patients in need of birth control. I would somehow have to shut Poe away, wanting to give these women the privacy they deserved.

*

Poe and I appeared to use the ‘freshers at the same time, the searing heat I usually liked being showered with restrained no matter how high I pushed the temperature button. Eventually I’d readied myself for the workday ahead, deciding on a pencil skirt and lightened blue blouse tucked into the waist, working my hair into a ponytail.

It was when I’d begun making breakfast, for both myself and all the company that I kept in the clinic at the moment, that Poe emerged back into my quarters in a set of dark black hospital clothes. I glanced at him only briefly as he entered, hearing him pull out a chair, not daring to look at his face yet.

“Smells good,” he uttered, breaking the silence that existed in exemption to the sautéed chicken eggs and nuna bacon sizzling in the large pan in front of me.

“It’s almost ready,” I remarked, feeling completely the disconnection between us in his tone. Half of me was glad he accepted the separation we needed to make, the other mourning the severed bond we had formed in the connection of our bodies. But I had to let it go, whatever was left of the fragile link that survived the night.

I continued preparing the hot meal, separating the foodstuff between Poe and Vixur’s crew. Once I’d gently placed a share in front of Poe at the table, a smile meeting him fleetingly, I took the rest with me, balancing the four dishes on my hands and forearms, moving cautiously through the hallway.

With impeccable timing Vixur and his students were conversing between each other, obviously having woken just before I came to greet them.

“I’ve got breakfast for you all,” I announced, setting it down at the meeting table across from my computer. It was generally used as a place I could sit with patients and their families when giving them their diagnosis or explaining treatment plans, but today it would have to work as a secondary dining table. All four men jabbered back thankyous as they moved quickly to sit and eat, their appreciation evident in the way they gulped down the meal without hesitation. I returned to my quarters to find Poe picking lazily at his food, only a few bites eaten.

“Does it taste bad?” I asked from behind him, before circling to my seat at the table.

He looked up swiftly, as if I’d startled him. He must have been deeply lost in thought not to hear me treading down the hallway.

“It’s delicious,” he urged. “I’m just… not that hungry.”

“Are you feeling alright? Are you still sore? Are you-“

“Alex, I’m fine,” he interrupted. “You can’t fix a bad mood with any of your treatments.”

I looked at him curiously. “Bad mood?”

Did I do that to him?

“Did you not sleep well?”

He didn’t answer me right away, a subtle scowl settling in his lips. “It was actually... the most restful sleep I’ve had in a long time.”

I fought the urge to beam at him, a smile waiting to form, but the gloomy expression he wore held it down. I had to agree with him - it truly was the most comfortable rest I’d experienced in recent memory. And knowing I would never feel that peaceful, dreamless slumber in his arms again made me fully understand why he was frowning.

“Thank you so much for the meal Alex. I just... don’t have an appetite right now.” Poe rose from his seat and took his plate to clean, his sombre mood spilling into my body and taking over. Wringing his hands dry, He turned back to me. “Is it still alright if I keep using your office to continue working on BB-8?”

I nodded. “It would actually be preferable. Most of my patients today are women, and I need privacy for their appointments. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come out, okay?”

Poe understood what I’d only hinted at. “Sure thing. I won’t step a foot out that room without your permission.”

A kind smile formed on his lips, but it fell as he moved from my quarters, leaving me to my breakfast, which now seemed extremely unappetizing.

*

“Well, Kaia, you’ve got a couple of options,” I started. It was my 5th appointment of the day, and I was starting to lose all hope in the young generation that followed mine. “You can get the implant, which lasts 5 years and protects you from pregnancy. But it can be a painful procedure, and unfortunately the implant itself is quite expensive. There are injections which last 3 months, but you’ll have to see me again in that time frame. I know that’s hard for you being from the South village. But there’s always prophylactics, which your partner has to use, every separate time you want to be intimate.”

Kaia was a 17-year-old human girl who had obviously not been taught any helpful sex education. Although, that wasn’t uncommon in these villages.

“But, like,” she began to question. “Can’t he just, like, not, um, finish in there?”

I drew in a deep breath. This wasn’t the first time I’d explained this today. “Technically yes, if he withdraws from you before that moment comes, it does lessen the chance of pregnancy. But Kaia, there’s a lot of fluid already leaking from him before then, fluid that can contain sperm. It doesn’t protect you. Not fully.”

Kaia was thoughtful, taking in my words. “But what if he doesn’t want to use the sheath?”

“Well... that’s his decision. But then you have to make yours. A decision that you’re more than allowed to make. One night could lead to either a future of motherhood or even diseases that could cause a great deal of damage to your body.”

“Ew,” Kaia recoiled. “I mean, I get what you’re saying. But Miss Jago, haven’t you ever been so swept up in the moment that you didn’t think about any of that?”

My jaw clenched, catching me off guard with her question. None of the other women had posed it to me. “It’s not been an issue for me,” I said flatly.

“Because of the birth control, right?” she surmised. “Which one do you use then?”

Oof, caught me out again.

“I don’t have the need for it. Kaia, this is not about me-”

“Wait, what?” she gasped. “But you’re so pretty?”

I soaked my voice in its professional tone. “This is your appointment Kaia, we’re not here to discuss my personal life.”

Kaia refused to comply. “But you’ve done it, right?”

I sighed, irritated. “Yes Kaia, but we took all the necessary precautions.”

“Well that doesn’t make it sound very fun,” Kaia huffed.

I tried desperately to hold back the aversion wanting to show on my face. It hadn’t been fun. It was clunky, awkward and somewhat painful. And I felt a spike of envy that this teenager already seemed to have had better experience with the opposite sex than I did.

“Look, your options are there. If I had to choose one, and I was with a partner I could trust had nothing that could spread to me, I’d go with the implant.”

She contemplated my advice, pulling her hands up to let her chin rest on them. “I think you’re right Miss Jago. But my parents would never help me pay for it.”

“That’s alright,” I replied, already knowing the home situation Kaia found herself in. She’d made the trek to my clinic alone, without her parent’s knowledge, just to see me for this single reason. I doubted they even knew she had a boyfriend. “How about I put the implant in today, and we figure out payment later?”

Kaia’s face lit up, eyes brimming with delight. “Really?”

I smiled at her and nodded.

“Thank you!” she squealed, face barely containing her excitement.

Really, this was for both her benefit and my own. I wasn’t about to face her parents when it would ultimately be me providing the news their daughter was pregnant. I didn’t want Kaia to go through that, a young pregnancy in a poor village after her parents would most likely cast her out.

“Remember I said this can be a painful procedure, and you’ll be sore for a day or two afterwards.”

Kaia nodded, understanding, yet unable to hold back her joy.

*

I worked my way through the process of setting her implant, my mind on autopilot while I thought more about the question Kaia innocently queried. I’d never come close to the type of desire that would have caused me to throw away all caution and rational thought. Not until-

“Hey Alex!” I heard from the other side of the curtain I’d drawn for Kaia’s discretion. “I know I said I wouldn’t come out until you said, but I’ve got something I need to show you.”

Poe’s voice was exuberant and proud, annoyingly unaware of the fact I had my hand in a very delicate place. My eyes shot to Kaia’s, her cheeks already flushing red with mortification.

“Poe!” I fumed, not hiding my anger. “I asked you to do one thing!”

I sensed his panic from behind the fabric separating us. “Kriff! Sorry!” His voice changed when he spoke next, a hurried whisper. “BB, come back here! We can’t show her yet!”

A streaming mechanical movement could be heard in my periphery, turning my head to see a shadow moving along the bottom of the curtain. I took the moment to stop what I was doing, covering Kaia with a sheet.

I was thankful I did that when the BB-8 droid slip through a break in the drape, caring little for what Poe had ordered him to do. His little head sat hovering above his balled body, for the first time actually staying in position. The photoreceptor, which looked like a singular eye, was also finally lit as he zoomed closer. While an impressed smirk started to beam as I realised Poe had managed to get his little friend working, it was rapidly overtaken by irritation at the droid’s lack of courtesy.

Poe was cursing under his breath, then apologetic. “Alex and uh, patient, I am so sorry. BB, get out of there!” BB-8 let out a few indiscernible beeps, a language I didn’t understand, although Poe seemed to. “I don’t care! They need privacy. You can see her later!” he hollered.

The droid made what sounded like a high-pitched huff as its head dropped, like it knew it had been scolded. Its head swivelled around on top it’s body and rolled away, again sliding through the break in the curtain.

“Come on, back this way.” I listened to the combination of footsteps and mechanical whirring move back into the hallway, a door eventually clicking closed. Looking apologetically back to Kaia, her face was still stunned at the intrusion.

“I am so sorry. I told him to stay put until my appointments were over. It’s okay if you want to stop for a moment,” I offered, trying to stay as calm as possible.

Kaia blinked purposefully a few times before being able to focus back to me. “No it’s okay. I’m ready.”

I admired her composure, while I remained silently boiling under the surface.

*

“What the hell Poe?” I snarled, barging into my office where Poe sat, seemingly interrupting a conversation he was having with BB-8. I’d clawed my anger into submission for the rest of Kaia’s appointment, but now it was ready to surge outward.

Poe stood, arms held up in surrender. “I know! I’m sorry! I didn’t think, and it was just really bad timing.” BB-8 beeped in what sounded like agreeance, rolling around from behind the office desk into my view.

“It was the worst timing!” I snapped. “That girl was 17, in a very vulnerable position, and you scared the living daylights out of her!”

“I know, and I can’t apologise enough Alex, really!” His face was pleading, brown eyes soft yet desperate. “I was just so excited about BB working again, and I wanted to show you.”

His sincerity disarmed me, my fury sizzling down, suffocated by his apology. I took a slow breath in, eyes closed, reigning it in further. “Please don’t disregard my instructions again,” I grumbled.

He nodded, as did BB-8, and my eyes focused on the droid. He was oddly cute in his appearance, his small beeps already annoyingly adorable. “Hello,” I greeted, all frustration now clean from my voice. “My name is Alexys.” I kneeled down to his eye level and he immediately wheeled directly in front of me, beeping somewhat of his own introduction.

“He said it’s nice to meet you,” Poe clarified, still hesitant at the easy change in my mood.

I looked up at him, curious. “You can understand those sounds he makes?”

“Most of it,” Poe answered. “It’s a form of Binary. Having him with me for so long helped me grow accustomed to the pitch and time changes in his beeps.”

My eyebrows rose, fascinated. “That’s so impressive.” BB-8 squealed in uneven time, his eye looking over to Poe, who almost looked bashful. “What? What did he say?”

He shot BB-8 an irritated look before meeting his eyes to mine. “It’s nothing important. His circuits are still a little fried.”

I wasn’t convinced, but then again I didn’t speak droid. "I'm glad you got him working,” I said earnestly, pleased there hadn’t been any type of casualty from his crash.

Poe sighed, relieved. “Me too. He’s the best co-pilot I’ve ever had.”

BB-8 whistled happily, evidently pleased with the praise, and its sweetness made me smile.

“Alexys?” Vixur suddenly called, his voice echoing down the hall. “Are you back there?”

I left Poe and BB-8 without a word, finding Vixur standing at the hallway entrance, his clothes smeared in dirt and dark grease. “Everything okay?”

Vixur nodded, evidently tired, still an accomplished grin filled his face. “We’re done actually. The comm-tower’s fixed.”

I wanted to smile back, to show my appreciation for his hard work, but it all became too hard to fake anymore.

This was it, the beginning of my goodbye to Poe. He would now be able to contact the Resistance, his friends, and he would soon be gone from my life just as suddenly as he arrived.

I forced the tears back as I hugged Vixur, doing all I could to hide my pain and show some kind of gratitude for the selfless work he had done.

Somehow Vixur sensed the turmoil simmering through me, patting my back softly. He pulled out of our embrace, speaking softly enough so Poe wouldn’t hear. “You needed this done for him, didn’t you?”

I nodded, the sadness hard to contain on my face. Vixur’s own expression was sympathetic as he squeezed my arm reassuringly. I didn’t need to explain anything, he just seemed to know.

“If it’s meant to be, you’ll find each other again.”

I drew in a long breath, furiously smothering the need to cry. I wanted to thank him more, for giving his time to me for little in return, but I couldn’t say the words out of fear the sudden sorrow would overwhelm me if I spoke out loud.

Vixur understood this, giving me a caring smile as he took his leave. “Well, we best be heading back to the village. I’ll see you sometime soon Alex. If I don’t, I wish you luck.”

And he was gone, the clinic door closing behind him, leaving me frozen in dread. A large part of me was reluctant to tell Poe the ‘good news’, but he’d waited long enough for his rescue from this planet.

I didn’t need to turn around to know he’d slinked out of the office to find me stuck where I stood, BB-8’s soft whirring following him.

“The comm-tower is ready, isn’t it?” Poe asked gently.

I forced myself to smile as I turned around, Poe’s expression not showing the relief I would have expected.

“Sure is,” I replied, the hint of quiver in my voice. “You can finally go home.”

I saw Poe’s lip tremble as he too attempted a smile, the disappointment in his eyes more indicative of his actual reaction to my answer.

Neither of us spoke for a long time, BB-8 looking back and forth quizzically, a few unsure beeps finally pierced in Poe’s direction. The sounds knocked us back into reality, as I moved to find the transmitter I’d stashed back into my tech station after determining its redundancy days ago.

The memories felt foreign, like they were from a different age. So little time had changed me so much, making me feel the most unstable and fragile I had felt in so long, on the verge of tipping into an overwhelming pain.

Poe had watched me in silence, unmoving. I eventually shifted the transmitter into his arms, an extremely aged, large box with an array of dusty buttons poking out of the rusted metal.

“It’s old, but it still works,” I insisted in a monotone, the emotion sucked from my voice. Poe only nodded, and gave me one last despairing glance as he turned away, carrying the machine into the study, BB-8 trailing behind him.

When the door closed, I couldn’t hold onto it any longer, the overpowering misery bursting free, its icy presence consuming me in a singular moment, the cold burn stinging as a few tears trickled down my cheeks.

What did I tell you?

The tears came faster at the sound of the voice, it’s condescension only making the suffering more excruciating.

No.

You’re wrong. I’m stronger than this.

I wiped away the errant tears defiantly, pulling myself together at the seams that had broken a few minutes ago, calming my breathing, trying to settle the trembling on inhale.

I’d made it through so much worse, pushed past crushing loneliness, fear and sadness, to make myself more resilient than I was behaving now. And I wasn’t going to let myself be caught in this vortex of emotion any longer.

I will not let this ruin me. 

~

Next Chapter

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[vergilthelibrarian]

It Began Snowing.

GenderNetural!ReaderxCryptid!Taeyong

I based Taeyong off a bit on the yokai Yuki-Onna but I put my own spin to it. I didn’t know how to end this and personally I feel like the ending could be better. Also, it gets sorta yandereish

 Anyway, enjoy ^^

It began snowing suddenly.

You looked up at the gray skies, stopping in your tracks.

Lifting your hand up, you watched as the snowflakes landing on your red glove.

You drew your close to you, staring at the snowflakes that sat on your hand when suddenly, your ears twitched to the sound of crunching snow.

You looked to your side to see a young man walking.

You assumed he was going to pass by but when he stopped about a foot from you, you became slightly irritated because you knew he was going to talk to you.

You’re raised arm went to your side as he said “You know the blizzard is beginning to start. You shouldn’t just be standing out here.” causing you frowned a bit.

“A blizzard?” you questioned out loud.

The forecast only called for a light snowfall today. There was nothing on the news about an upcoming blizzard because if so, you wouldn’t have decided to explore the woods today.

The young man nodded his head.

“Yes. A blizzard and it seems to be picking up.” he said as the wind became stronger and the snowfall became harsher.

“Do you have any place to stay at during the storm? My place isn’t too far.”

“I-I uh, no.” you shook your head, the cold nipping at your exposed cheeks.

You lived in the town next to one you were currently in since this town was more of a farming town with woods while yours was simply a small factory town.

“You should come with me then.”

“N-no. I’m fine.” you told the stranger.

“Yet your shivering. You’d freeze to death out here… Come on. Come with me. I’ll give you some hot tea or hot chocolate, whatever you like.” he smiled at you.

You didn’t noticed that you were shivering, your teeth clattering as you said, “O-okay.”

The smile never left the man’s lips as he grabbed your hand.

“You don’t mind me grabbing your hand?” and you shook your head.

“Good. Let’s go.”

He began walking, leading the way, going further and further into the woods.

The snowfall became more heavy and the young man hummed as he took you to his home.

No thoughts crossed your mind as you let this strange man take you to his home, the nipping cold making it hard for you to think.

“We’re almost there.” he said as your eyes become blinded by the snow.

After some minutes, you walked out of the woods and soon you were in front of a yellow farm house.

Once you two walked up the steps and made it to the door, he let go of your hand and took out a pair keys from his pocket, unlocking and opening the door.

He looked at you and motioned for you to go in, a smile on his lips.

You walked into the house being hit with an immediate warmth but it wasn’t enough to stop the cold the had your body frozen.

The sound of the door closing and some locks entered your ears as you shivered in place.

“Oh. You must be freezing. Let me help you take off your jacket.”

The man was soon in front of you and watched as one of his hands unzipped your coat.

You found it weird that he was being rather close to you but you just chalked it up to him being helpful.

Once your jacket was off, he hung it on the coat rack on the wall.

“You think you can take off your boots?” he asked and you nodded, crouching down to untie your boots.

“Tch tch. Let me do that.”

He came over in front of you once more and you stood up, watching the young man crouch down and began untying your boots.

Once he was done he got up and watched as you took them off.

He grabbed your boots and put them to the side.

“Are you still cold?” he asked, walking into your vision once more.

You nodded, shivering heavily.

“You should take a hot bath. I’ll start the bath and give you some clothes and a towel.”

Your eyes widen and the young man chuckled.

“Don’t worry. I’m not a pervert if that’s what you’re thinking.” he said.

“Oh shit. I never told you my name, it’s Taeyong.”

“M-my name i-is Y-y/n.” you stuttered.

“Y/n. Hmm…” he hummed in thought.

“Go take a seat on the couch. I’ll get the bath started.” he smiled before walking up the steps.

You went to the open living room and sat down on the couch, noticing how comfy it was.

You looked around the living room, seeing little knick knacks and a fire place, some black and white photos and paintings.

A bark made you flinched and soon you saw a white jindo dog who began growling at you.

The dog began moving slowly towards you.

You started shaking in fear when suddenly you heard Taeyong’s voice.

“Melpomene.” he said softly, walking up to the growling dog.

“It’s alright, I’m safe. They’re not a threat.” he pat the dog and soon its growling died down.

“She’s really overprotective of me.” he laughed, looking up at you.

“I fixed your bath. Let me show where the washroom is.” he said, his gentle eyes on your form.

You got up, your eyes on the dog as you walked passed the animal and followed the man upstairs.

He showed you the washroom and were your clothes and towel sat at before leaving and closing the door.

Your eyes left the closed door, moving to the bathtub and as you walked closer to the bathtub, you saw rose petals sitting on the steamy water and a flowery scent entered your nose.

This was rather strange but once again, you didn’t think much of it.

You undressed and slowly entered the bathtub, sighing from the warmth.

Leaning back, you closed your eyes.

It was so weird for a blizzard this bad to happen suddenly.

Then your thoughts went to Taeyong.

You’ve seen him on multiple occasions, the occasions usually being the local farmers market where he sold his produce and fresh meat.

You have never properly met the man until today and it shocked you how warmed he felt.

Though you still believed that this situation was indeed a strange one.

Local legends of your town spoke of a deadly creature who caused random blizzards during the winter whenever a someone was lost or stranded only to never be seen again, the creature being compared to the man eating siren.

So you knew that you could be in danger but honestly, what could you even do?

You’re small house was in the next town over.

You had no choice but to stay in Taeyong’s house and wait for the blizzard to die down.

After some minutes passed, your body felt warm again and soon you began washing up.

Once you were done, you dried up and put on the clothes Taeyong left out, which was an oversized white t-shirt and some gray shorts. You put the towel in a basket, believing it to be the dirty clothes hamper and left the room.

As you walked down the stairs, the smell of food alerted your senses and as you walked into the open living room, you looked to your side where the opening to the kitchen was and walked to it.

Taeyong stood in front of a stove putting ingredients into a black pot.

He looked up at you and a gentle smile graced his handsome features.

“You’re done pretty early. I was hoping you’d be finish when I was done cooking.” he said. “But that’s alright. I’m making sundubu-jjigae. That sounds good?” he asked, his eyes on you.

You nodded, making a slight noise.

“You’re not much of a talker huh?” Taeyong said and you bit your bottom lip in nervousness.

“I don’t really know you well.”

He nodded, his attention going back to the stew.

“That makes sense. I am a stranger after all.” he stirred the stew. “But I truly mean no harm. You’re too precious to me…” you frowned in confusion as you didn’t quiet catch his last sentence.

You looked pass him at the window, being met with darkness.

Walking up to the window, you saw snowflakes hitting the glass.

“The blizzard is still going strong. You should stay the night here.”

You turned around and saw Taeyong turning off the stove.

“Y-yeah…”

The young man walked up to you, his hand caressing your cheek. His face was very close to yours, his breathe hitting your lips.

Your eyes widen and you gulped as you saw the boy’s eyes glance at your lips before turning his intense gaze back to your eyes

You felt like you couldn’t move.

In fact, it felt as though you were genuinely frozen in place.

“Do I make you nervous?” he asked and you quickly nodded.

His breath smelt of peppermint and his body was too close to yours.

You felt as though you were going to pass out.

“I don’t mean to make you so nervous. I’m usually not this touchy with anyone but you make me feel… something.” he said, his face contorting in as though he was lost in thought, his eyes fixated on you.

“What d-do you mean?” you stuttered.

Taeyong’s thumb traced your jawline as he said, “Warmth. You make me feel warmth and warmth is something I never feel.”

“Why is that?”

Taeyong hummed.

“Let’s eat first and then I’ll tell you.” he smiled before removing his hand from your cheek and walked back to the stove. He picked put on some mittens and picked up the pot.

“Come on. I know you must be hungry.”

~~

You two mostly ate in a comfortable silence, Taeyong saying some things here and there.

After you two were finish, he cleaned up your bowls, telling you to sit on the couch.

When he came back, he started breaking some wood to start a fire in the fireplace.

Once he started the fire, he took a seat next to you on the couch.

“I’m making us some hot chocolate.” he said.

You nodded.

Taeyong leaned in close to you causing you to back up slightly.

“You’re a lotus.”

You tilted your head and he instantly knew you were confused.

“You’re beautiful. I can see it. Your soul is beautiful yet because of this world, it’s been damaged, muddied, polluted.”

“I don’t understand.”

“As I said before, you make me feel warmth and I can’t feel warmth yet you…” his hands cradled your face. “Every time I would see you, whenever you were near me, I felt a warmth that those of my kind simply cannot produce.”

As soon as those words left his mouth, it hit you.

Taeyong was the creature of your town’s legend.

He was the siren like creature that would cause snowstorms to whoever was unfortunate to fall upon its gaze.

“You… are my soulmate.” he said which shocked you immensely.

What did he mean by soulmate?

“Huh?” was all you could respond with.

“You are my soulmate Y/n. I caused this storm just to see if my feeling was right and it was.”

You wanted to move but you felt stuck to the couch.

You tried moving your head away from his hands but you couldn’t even budge.

“A lotus flower forced to live in such an impure and dirty world… you are never leaving this place.” he said.

Your eyes widen.

“What? I… I can’t stay here. T-this is crazy!” you voice became an octave higher.

“You belong here.” the creature said. “You belong in this house. You won’t be able to bloom surrounded by those humans.” he said with disgust. “Especially surrounded by those who have hurt you.”

A white light began swirling in his eyes.

“Stay with me. I’ll keep you safe. I will always protect you and I’ll give you all the love in the universe. Just stay with me.”

Your eyes began to glaze over as you looked into his eyes.

“Okay.” you said faintly, feeling your body going limp.

“Promise me that you’ll never leave me.” his gentle voice soon turned strong and dominate, a stark contrast from how he first appeared towards you.

“I promise.” you said in a dazed like state.

“Good.” he said, his pointer finger rubbing your bottom lip.

“If you ever try to leave me, if you ever try to hurt me like that… I will drag back to this house and punish you. Understood?”

“Yes.” you responded obediently.

The light in his eyes slowly dissipated and his intense gaze turned soft, a smile on his lips as he said, “Good. I should go check on hot chocolate.” he said before letting go of your face and heading off to the kitchen.

[lifeofroos]

A/N: Bonus This Might Be Crazy - the last bonus This Might Be Crazy if I may add. This one is a lot heavier than the other chapters. Tw for emotional outbursts and self-harm(? not really but watch out for yourself).  In short: Nico gets therapy from Dionysus. In this chapter, he is so upset by something he needs to run, run far away from it. Dionysus doesn’t let him. 

AO3 - Fanfiction.net - KoFi 

Bonus chapter: Hard to Swallow

I was on a run. A run in the middle of the night, in the middle of New York, but still just on a run. 

I reached a crossroad. The lights were green, so I could run further. If I stopped now, then… then… 

A bus rode by right in front of me. I should have been hit by it - but I wasn’t. Someone was holding me back by my collar.

 ‘Sorry. I was running.’ 

‘What is this about, Nico?’

It was a familair voice. ‘I already said so. I was running.’

‘Why are you lying to me?’ 

He might as well have let the bus hit me. It would have hurt less than those words. The horrible feeling in my stomach rose up again, even though it should have been gone. 

‘I… I am not…’ And then I was crying. So much for trying to run my feelings out. 

Dionysus spun me around. I almost backed away. Never before had I seen him look so... afraid. ‘Come. You shouldn’t cry at a New York crossroad.’ I let him take me away. 

‘For the last few days you’ve been down You kept to yourself more than usual. I tried to talk with you a few times, but you didn’t respond, so I thought you might come to me when you felt ready.’ 

‘I-I-I would have…’ I bawled. 

He shook his head. I didn’t even notice him teleporting us until we were standing in front of our regular Denny’s. 

There were no other guests. Mary, behind the counter as always, raised her eyebrows. She pointed towards a table and disappeared into the back. 

I couldn’t imagine I looked that bad. Dionysus parked me on one of the couches. Instead of sitting down in front of me, he sat down next to me. 

‘I-I know now it wasn’t good, I really do…’ I sobbed. 

‘That’s good, but it’s not enough right now. You have to tell me what is going on.’

I slowly shook my head.

‘It’s dangerous if you don’t.’

I felt like crying louder.

‘Get it over with. It will hurt less to tell than it does to keep it in.’

I shook my head. He might hurt me. 

‘Is it about a god other than me?’

‘...Y... Yes.’ I couldn’t get any more over my lips. 

‘I gave a lot of gods a headache, both when I was a mortal and when I wasn’t. I know what is going on in your head. You’re afraid that if you tell me, it’ll push them over the edge.’ I could only keep crying. 

‘I can’t take that fear away, but I can ask you to trust me. A god can punish, but a god can also protect. And I can promise you I care a whole lot more about you than whatever god made you feel like this.’

It took everything to nod. 

‘Nico?’

I looked at him. 

‘Who did what to you?’

I shook my head again. 

‘Tell me, Nico. Please.’ 

He could wait all night. After all, he had all the time in the world. ‘It’ll be okay. This is my domain. No-one else can hear us.’

His domain. It made a small tear in my defenses, and before I knew it the words streamed out: ‘Zeus came to me in a dream a few night ago. He knows I am making amends with my father. He told me I was not supposed to do that, just like how I wasn’t supposed to be a hero. I was…’ A new wave of tears came out. 

Dionysus soothingly stroked my back. ‘You’re doing very, very well. Almost there.’

‘He said I was not meant to be alive, after all.’ 

I let out a scream. The tears streamed down my face. I was afraid, I was sad, I was ashamed that I let somebody make me feel this way and I was so, so angry. 

Dionysus pulled me into a hug. ‘Good, let it out,’ I heard him whisper. I buried my face in his sweater and did as I was ordered. 

|

With time my sobs became quieter. Dionysus let go of me. ‘So Zeus sent you a nightmare. A nightmare in which he told you that, if it was up to him, you wouldn’t have been a hero.’

I nodded. 

‘What part made you the most upset?’

I shook my head.

‘Take your time. There must be something.’

‘I am not sure.’

‘Can you tell me what’s the very first thing that came to your mind when I asked that?’

I took a shaky breath. ‘That he feels so threatened by my existence that he felt the need to send me a nightmare about it. Why does it matter so much to him?’ I held up my hand when Dionysus opened his mouth. ‘Wait. No. It’s not my existence, it’s what that existence means. It elevates Hades’ status among gods, which could possibly threaten him.’ I bit my lip. 

‘We can speculate on the why later. What matters now is that Zeus hit you when you were already damaged. He got his right long ago, he should have left it there…’ He abruptly stopped his sentence. ‘...What makes you most upset about Zeus being threatened by you?’

It took me a moment to find the words. ‘What… What makes me so upset is how… why does he once again have to be right? Isn’t it enough that he could hurt my mother consequence free because fate demanded it? Isn’t it enough that he stands above everybody else? Why does he have to be right on every single little thing?’ I clenched my fists. ‘Why can’t he just leave me alone!’

Dionysus stared at a point on the other side of the restaurant. He took a deep breath again. 

‘.. too close to home?’ I mumbled. 

He nodded almost invisibly. 

‘Is there anything I can do about it except accept it?’ I felt drained. Drained because I wasted so much energy on something I couldn’t do anything about. 

‘Don’t lie to the person trying to help you in the future. That way I can help you accept it and make you see that there are parts of the world beyond what you fixated on.’

I nodded. ‘I am not angry about the tough love.’

He looked at me. ‘I needed to. You almost ran out into traffic. When something like that happens, you waiver your right to stay quiet.’

‘Hm.’ I looked at my hands. 

‘I hope you learned that next time something like this happens you immediately come to me. Nico, I-’ he took a deep breath. ‘I was afraid, when I noticed you were running. It isn’t just about this incident, it shows that there is still a lot to work on.’

‘I didn’t mean to run into a bus.’

‘I believe you.’

I nodded. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t even dissappointed, but it still made me feel bad. I swallowed. 

‘You need to cry more, still?’

I shrugged. It didn’t feel like it was over, but my throat and face felt raw from the tears. 

‘You want something to drink, then? Mary can make something.’ 

She peeped her head around the corner. ‘Can do. But I would like more information on what just happened in my restaurant.’

A/N: mostly wrote this because I wanted to explore what Dionysus would do when it was really important Nico said something. 

As in, when it was dangerous when he didn't.

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

The Best Things ~ J.V. (part 11)

A/n: Don’t mind me, updating a series no one cares about lol. I’ve been toeing the line of what he’s like in other fanficiton and fans’ minds, but with this one I may just cover a side of Jerome y’all might really believe is out of character. I don’t care though. I’m having fun exploring a character and I’m having fun.

Word Count: 5400+

MASTERLIST

There was something different about waking up in the morning to Jerome still being asleep next to you. Or at least that's how Harley felt. Especially because this never happened, and considering what had happened last night. Maybe that was it. The night before was the main thing on Harley's mind as he slowly woke up, his head immediately filling with the memory as if denying him even a second dog bliss from it.

If he was being honest, it made him both terrified and exhilarated. They'd never had sex like that before. Slow and tender and soft. Words of praise had poured from Jerome's mouth nonstop, and it had sent Harley's body in a different way. Rather than fireworks, it was more like lava under rocks. Searing heat that crept through Harley's veins like it was trying to sneak. It made Harley feel infinitely close to Jerome. Made him feel tethered to Jerome. He'd never felt anything like that before, and from Jerome's reactions neither had he. It also gave both men a new fear. Or, a deeper rooted hold on a fear that already existed at the very least.

What if this ended?

What if neither man felt this ever again?

What if they'd unveiling something in themselves last night... and now, in the day time, the other didn't like it?

It was then that Jerome turned, facing Harley, where he'd had his back turned before. "I'm sorry about your friend." His voice was quiet, and Jerome wouldn't look at him.

Harley was surprised by that. He scooted closer, resting his forehead on Jerome's chest. The red head pulled the other man's body closer, tucking Harley against Jerome's own frame. He held onto him, protecting him from the world for a second. It was empowering when Harley leaned into it immediately, reaching his hands so he fisted Jerome's shirt so hard his knuckles turn white.

Jerome had never been comforting before. Safe. He'd never had someone take refuge in him before. It was intoxicating. It made him feel strong and unbreakable. It was more of a high than he'd ever felt before. Maybe just as good as when he put his little shows on and watched people panic and squirm. Harley finding safety in this moment was on par with all the moments other people had found danger in Jerome.

I guess when all you get is the same thing all your life, even if it's good, something new can have a strong effect on a man. Jerome had always been fear personified. He'd been a walking weapon of death and destruction, and somehow in that chaos Harley found himself making a home. It made Jerome feel incredible. Maybe he wasn't as bad as everyone thought.

"Can I see those drawings you did last night?" Harley leaned back so they were looking at each other. Jerome had an odd expression on his face. Not the one Bruce and Jeremiah wore when they looked at each other, but a very close approximation. It made Harley's heart pick up.

"Sure." He slid out of bed to pad to the living room, snagging his drawing pad and returning with it. He sat in bed this time, extending the drawing pad so Jerome could grab it.

The red head say up as well, taking the pad from Harley and beginning to slowly look through it. He took longer than Harley though he had the attention span for, drinking in the different angles and shadows of his own face. He seemed to be scanning it. At one point he reached up and touched his face, his eyebrows coming together. "What are you thinking, J?"

Jerome looked up, a look of concern and confusion on his face. "Is this really how you see me?"

It was Harley's turn to be confused. "What are you talking about?"

He seemed to struggle to explain a few seconds before weakly offering, "I'm beautiful." He immediately scowled. "You make me look... good looking." A deeper scowl. "I mean, I know I'm sexy don't get me wrong, but the way you draw me looks... looks..."

"Pretty?" Harley offered.

"Yes," Jerome groaned, like it hurt him.

Harley bit his lip for a second, thinking. "To me, you were always a work of art. Even before I drew you." He looked at the bed, fingers fiddling with the blanket. "You used to come to my mind all the time when you were dead. I thought of you constantly. Went to therapy over it because they thought it was a side effect of trauma." He snorted, shaking his head. "Turns out I was just infatuated with you." He looked back at Jerome then. "You came to me in dreams when I finally learned how to control my thoughts when awake. Even before we met that day, in person, I was obsessed with you. I used to draw you all the time. I told myself that it was to deal with the trauma of my parents dying, my fixation on death and murderers. People that were considered psychotic and dangerous. And maybe it was, in part. Maybe it began that way. But ever since the first second I saw you, you became this beacon of hope. Hope that in some world, with someone, I could be free from expectation and restrictions. That I could be wild and have fun and be GAY and not have to worry about what other people thought. You stood for the happiness I've been denied since the first day time I ever found anyone attractive." He paused. "Helped that you were incredibly attractive." Jerome giggled at that and Harley's smile widened. "You're so silly." Jerome scooted closer, kissing Harley so deeply he lost all of his breath. He leaned away after too short a time though, tilting his head. "Let's do something fun today."

"Like what?" Harley asked. He was getting good at keeping track with Jerome's zipping thought train.

Considering, Jerome grew quiet. "I want to take you on a date. Something nice." Harley deflated. "It's not smart to go out right now. We're trying to convince Bruce and the police that you're dead. If you're seen it'll all be over."

Jerome pouted. "Let me take you somewhere."

A long sigh came from Harley. "Do you want to die?" Jerome shook his head no. "Do you want to get caught and sent to Arkham?" Another silent no. "Then what the hell do you suppose we do that won't require any people, when we're in the middle of a huge city?"

Quiet groans and Jerome was flopping back on the bed, making Harley smile fondly. "I can't stay here forever, Harley! It's BORING. You get to go out all the time and check in on our dear brothers. Why don't I get to?"

"Because you'd be found out," Harley reminded patiently. "And entrapped. Or killed. Or entrapped and then killed."

There was a pause where Jerome was quiet. "You must go to Jeremiah's again and get me new information." Harley nodded, moving to get off the bed so he could get ready to head out. Jerome was suddenly moving though, pinning him before he could leave all the way. "But before you do that, I would like you to leave me with something to think about. Something to make this day a little more worth it." He licked his lips. "Entertain me, Harley." His eyes darkened and Harley shivered.

"Yes sir." - "Hey Harley!" Jeremiah greeted brightly. Harley chuckled at the boy. How was he twins with Jerome? That lightness and energy came so easily to this man, where Jerome struggled to even accept the idea of adorableness, let alone embody it constantly. But this wasn't the time to think about Jerome. "How did your date with the boy wonder go?" Jeremiah was bouncing on his toes. It was genuinely adorable. "He kissed me."

Harley launched to his feet. "What?" He was grinning, hands outstretched as if deciding on whether to grab him or pump into the air victoriously.

"Yeah!" Jeremiah squeaked.

"That's awesome!" Harley gushed. "Tell me everything! Wait- where's Ecco?"

"I already told her," Jeremiah dismissed, waving his hand through the air. "She picked me up afterward and I filled her ears with it all the way home.

Harley giggled, his nose scrunching in amusement. "I bet she loved that." Jeremiah blushed and Harley winked, nudging his friend playfully. "Okay well now it's my turn. Every detail Jeremiah, I'm serious."

And the red head eagerly delivered. The two boys talked for hours, going from the date and all that happened right into Harley waltzing around the room dramatically planning the wedding and the house and family that would follow. "You'll definitely need at least one dog. You both seem like cat people, but I bet your ass that you two raise a kid willing to rough house with a dog. It's got to be huge then. Like so big toddlers can ride on its back, and whenever it wants to go anywhere it'll just drag you along even if you want to go somewhere else."

At this point Jeremiah had covered his face, laying his hands on the counter and his head in the palms of his hands. "Please stop," he groaned, but both boys knew he had to hide his expression or risk showing off the radiant smile he'd hinted at earlier.

"Fine fine fine," Harley sighed, finally sitting back down. He chuckled, sitting back in the chair. He was lounging, legs spread and arms over the back of his seat. He looked comfortable. It was so different than the Wayne boy that had been seen on TV for years. The one Bruce talked about even. Harley really wasn't Y/n. He was... too much like Jerome to ever be that boy again. "What's with the frown?" Harley asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jeremiah debated on whether he should share his thoughts, but Harley leaned forward, showing that he knew Jeremiah was thinking something and that he wouldn't let it drop. Having gotten to the point where Harley could always pry information out of Jeremiah, the redhead didn't even bother fighting him. "I was thinking about how much you remind me of Jerome." Harley hesitated and Jeremiah rushed to add, "Not in a bad way. But your confidence and ease. Your very presence is so much bigger than it used to be. I didn't know you back then, but Bruce has mentioned how you guys used to be. Mostly because he obsesses over the worry that Jerome is still alive so it comes up often, because I always listen. Once he mentions Jerome, then we talk about how things were in my childhood and then it goes to how his childhood used to be and then you come up." He looked away, obviously self conscious about the way Harley's eyes were drilling into him.

"Do you lie to him?"

That caught Jeremiah off guard. "What?" He looked back with an expression like a deer in the headlights, or a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

"Jerome talked to me a lot." Harley watched his words carefully, being sure not to reveal that Jerome STILL talked to him just as much. "And that day in the tunnels, when Jerome tried to kidnap you. He said you lied about your guys' past."

Jeremiah was quiet for a long time. "I don't lie to him." He paused again and Harley waited for him to continue. When Jeremiah realized Harley wasn't going to let it go, he continued. "I don't tell him what I used to tell our mom. I'm... ashamed. You were right when you said I contributed a lot to how Jerome turned out. But, you have to understand Harley he terrified me. He never threatened me per say, but I was the one who always found the bodies of the animals he mutilated. I was the one he talked about to his fantasies about other people. He... He used to say he was joking, and he never did anything until our mom, from what I know, but he was curious and he didn't have the same empathy as everyone else did. For animals at least."

Harley sighed. "He loved me." Jeremiah looked up sharply. "He told me so. And- and you know what, I believed him." Harley swallowed. "Did I ever tell you how we found out where you were?" Jeremiah hesitated before shaking his head. "Would you like to know?" There was a darkness in Harley's voice. One that made Jeremiah want to shy away. But, he was curious too. It was one of the fatal flaws him and Jerome had in common. So, even though he wanted to run, he nodded instead. "We went to your Uncle Zack's."

Immediately Jeremiah cringed. "Oh god."

"So you know what that man is capable of then," Harley eased, even though his expression had not changed at all. It was the same forced calm that Jerome had perfected. The similarity between Harley and Jeremiah's lost brother in that moment made anxiety twist in the redhead's chest. "You know, if I hadn't been there..." He shook his head. "He heated soup to boiling. He wanted to pour it into Jerome's mouth. Thank god I was there to stop that one. What would it have bee like, being a child against grown adults. No where to run, no one to turn to, and no mercy in sight. No reprieve. If I was Jerome, I probably would have killed that bitch you called your mother too."

Harley expected Jeremiah to snap at him,  but he didn't. It made the air get even more thick with dark tension. It set into reality not only what Harley had said, but what Jeremiah wouldn't. That he would have too. "I think I'm going to go work on my prototypes." Harley didn't say anything, so Jeremiah left him alone in the quiet.

There was a part of Harley that felt bad for ruining the mood after they'd both been flying so high earlier, but there was also a part of him that didn't care. So he stood up and left through the maze, standing outside to get some air. To breathe after the stifling pressure inside. He hesitated too long, though. If he had just left right then and headed back to Jerome and forgotten about the conversation for the rest of the day, he would have made it out of there with plenty of time. But he didn't. He hesitated and and he breathed and he closed his eyes and felt the sun on his skin.

That was what gave Bruce the time he needed to pull up to Jeremiah's front door just to see Harley standing there. The boy tripped as he got out of the car, his eyes wide and lips parted. "Y/n?"

Harley jerked at the name, flinching away from it. It eyes slammed open, his gaze hard and angry. After the conversation he'd just had with Jeremiah, he was not in the right place to face his brother. Yet, here they both were. "Mr. Wayne," Harley greeted bitterly.

Bruce looked like Harley had slapped him. "Where have you been?" He shook his head. "Where's Jerome?" He then remembered where they were and looked between Harley and the door that lead to the maze where Bruce's boyfriend was. "Why are you here?"

The chaotic barrage of questions made Harley relax. He had the control in this situation. "I'm here because Jeremiah lets be stay here, when I want to. I check in sometimes and talk to him." Any other answer would get him in trouble, and he didn't feel like setting off his brother so he stayed with the truth, ignoring the other two questions.

The Wayne boy stepped forward, settling on angry between the emotions he'd been battling before. "You're friends with Jeremiah?"

"Sort of," Harley shrugged. "And by the way, it's Harley."

Hands curled into fists and Harley found himself slipping into a sort of distant amusement. His stance solidified, arms relaxing and fingers twitching at his sides. Bruce got hit with the same thought Jeremiah had been before. Harley looked a lot like Jerome in that moment, but more sane. In control. He didn't have that same unhinged factor, which left him far more unpredictable. Harley had the air of someone who would kill everyone in the room and then get away with it. Not for chaos' sake, but because he simply didn't care. Seeing sanity int he face of someone so cold and distant and confident sent a chill down Bruce's spine. What had happened to the brother who radiated sunshine and painted the most odd paintings with even weirder origin stories? The brother that couldn't handle even a little confrontation, let alone stand empty handed and still look dangerous? "I guess it is." Bruce's voice was soft and broken. His anger had fallen away, exchanging for a heart break that made Harley shift away from it like it burned him.

The door behind Harley opened. "Wait wait wait!" The voice belonged to Jeremiah, who was scrambling between the brothers as if trying to stop a fight. Maybe it would have eventually turned into that, but as of now all that was happening was Bruce was staring a Harley, looking for answers, and Harley was looking anywhere except at his brother as he refused to give them.

"You know," Harley mused. "I seem to be ruining the mood a lot today. You two love birds spend time together and I'll keep my distance so that my unhappiness won't affect you. How does that sound?"

Jeremiah launched forward, catching Harley's shoulder. "Please," he begged softly. "Don't go."

"Do you want him to leave instead, because I can promise it won't be pretty if we're both here," Harley spat viciously. Jeremiah recognized a deeper level to the boy though. A hurt that was curling into his face. There was more than just anger driving him to run now. There was fear, and pain. Jeremiah had seen that look on Jerome's face far too many times to let Harley go now.

Jeremiah looked at Bruce. "Listen," he sighed heavily. "You're both important to me. I have three friends, and one of them is more of a body guard who's paid to hang around, and another is... more than a friend, if I'm lucky." Bruce couldn't help how his face softened. Jeremiah cleared his throat. "I need as many people in my life as I can get, because I already basically have no one. You guys are brothers, for goodness sake. Don't let life tear you apart like I let happen for me and Jerome." This he directed at Harley. The words seemed to confuse Bruce, but he stayed quiet despite that.

Harley on the other hand looked ready to go. "He doesn't want me here."

"I didn't say that," Bruce rushed before he could rein his self control.

Jeremiah perked up. "You're the one person that can actually reassure Bruce that Jerome is dead."

Ah, how wrong he was. Harley could not honestly reassure Bruce that Jerome was dead. He could, however, convince Bruce that Jerome was dead- and he was also the only person who could. No matter how much of Harley Bruce saw, every time the Wayne heir looked at the man who used to be his best friend, he would always see Y/n. Y/n, who had never once been capable of hiding his emotions or even considering telling a lie, let alone delivering one convincingly. Y/n, who had always valued honesty - especially when it came to family. Who valued trust over power. Who had been abused and pushed around and broken and destroyed, replaced by someone who used lies to get what he wanted like one uses hammers to drive in nails. Harley would lie without hesitation or regret, and Bruce would believe him because Y/n wouldn't lie, and even if he did, Bruce would be able to tell.

"I killed him myself," Harley reassured, looking Bruce in the eye without hesitation.

Bruce formed an expression that spoke of disbelief and doubt, but Harley could see through that into the desperation in Bruce's eyes. "You killed him?"

Harley sighed. "I do that now."

Obviously Bruce didn't like that, but he seemed to accept it at least. "Why?"

This part was easy. "Because he hurt you." Harley shrugged, kicking the dirt under his foot. "He had no reason to involve you. He just did. He didn't even consult me, and he didn't because he knew that if he had I would have said no. We had a deal- no touching you. He might be my partner, but you're my brother and that's more important. No one hurts you. I made that clear since the beginning." He swallowed. That wasn't totally true. In fact, that day he had encouraged Jerome to mess Bruce up a little. Even kill him. But there had been a hesitance to hurt Bruce since the first day even if it had faded over time. Because the truth was, above even Bruce and Alfred, Jerome was the most important person to Harley now. "He was jealous because I cared more about you. He's kind of an attention whore." That was true. Not that Jerome was jealous, but that he was a slut for attention. The more time Harley spent with him, the more obvious it became. Harley didn't mind in the least though.

Bruce seemed to take a moment to consider this and choose his next words before he spoke again. "He sounds obsessive."

Jeremiah scoffed. "If I had to describe Jerome in one words," he mumbled.

"When I was caught with Jerome at the fair, I only ended up there because the first thing Jerome thought about when he came back from the dead was that the last thing he'd thought about when he was alive was that he'd wanted to kill me." Harley scoffed. "He took his wanting to kill me through death with him. If that doesn't spell obsessed, I don't know what does." That was another truth, but yet again Harley didn't mind. He liked to think of being on Jerome's mind, haunting him as the red head had haunted Harley. He liked the thought that not even death could do them part. Or however that line went, whatever.

There was a sort of melting slouch of Bruce's shoulders. He'd given in. Harley had succeeded. "We're not just going to be brothers again. Neither of us are the same."

"The last time I saw you my boyfriend was trying to kill you, and before that I was convinced you'd been brainwashed by some cult, so yeah we have some catching up to do."

Bruce looked at Jeremiah who perked up. "Wonderful! Dinner, anyone?"

"Actually," Harley edged. "I think we both have a lot to think about. Maybe rushing it all tonight wouldn't be the best idea." For the first time in a long time, Bruce nodded in agreement with Harley. In fact, it had probably been the first time Bruce had agreed with Harley since he had stopped being Y/n Wayne.

"Fine," Jeremiah sighed. "But I expect you two to have a dinner together within the next week. I won't let you just avoid it."

Harley sighed and nodded, turning away from the other two boys and heading toward his car. "Use protection!" Harley called, smirking when he heard the boys behind him groan in unison. Before they could curse him though, he slipped into his car and closed the door, cutting off any attempts of communication. He turned his car on and drove away, letting his smile melt away when he was positive he was out of view. His hands tightened on the wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. His jaw locked, beginning to hurt after a few seconds it was cemented so. Not wanting to get pulled over when he was in a car that wasn't technically in his name - he'd gotten it a long time ago when he still worked with Penguin - and was, more importantly, a wanted criminal. Focusing on safe driving only got him to the front door though. He slammed it closed, standing in his doorway glaring at the floor.

And then he snapped.

A scream ripped out of him as he reached for the closest things light enough to pick up and began throwing them across the room. Some - a vase, a few dishes that hadn't been taking to the kitchen yet, a table decoration - shattered, while most of it landed safely after crashing into more things - books slamming into chairs, pillows knocking things off the wall, a shoe hitting the edge of a full length mirror hard enough that it tilted, so on. Altogether, he was creating a lot of noise, destruction, and chaos.

Jerome ran into the scene, looking rather startled. Harley wasn't the angry type. He had never been, except the rare times Penguin had been able to unlock long since buried trauma that he wasn't dealing with. Oswald had taught him to both control AND channel his emotions, so that they could be expressed but also make you look more terrifying rather than show as weaknesses and wear you away to nothing. No one had seen this side of Harley except him yet, and Jerome wasn't quite sure how to handle it. In fact, it reminded him a little of... his mom.

When Harley finally stopped, he turned away from Jerome, curling his fingers around his short hair very tightly, tugging as he planted his forehead against the wall furthest from Jerome. The redhead paused before slowly making his way over. "Harley?" His voice was soft. The anger in his boyfriend had unlocked a fear in him that he hadn't felt like this since he was a child. He was scared of Harley losing it again, both because he didn't want to have this feeling get worse, and also because if Harley was upset enough to melt down like this, he might get destructive with himself rather than loose objects.

Or worse, Harley might get destructive with Jerome.

"I'm sorry," Harley croaked. He took a deep breath, finally dropping his hands and leaning away from the wall before turning to Jerome. This was closer to the Harley Jerome knew. A little exhausted from his heavy emotions, but otherwise solid and in control. "I'm sorry J." His voice was stronger now. More fluid and solid. He saw Jerome's expression and slowly approached. Jerome didn't move away. When Harley touched him, Jerome didn't flinch even though his pulse skipped a beat. Not something totally new with Harley, except that this wasn't a good spike. The emotion he felt was new when it came to Harley. "I'm sorry," Harley said again, pulling Jerome to him until their foreheads touched. "Did I upset you?"

Jerome's brain had short circuited a bit. After being free of his mom for years, he'd grown a solid defense against things that reminded him of her. But Harley had waited until he was past all of Jerome's walls and defenses. Until he had become Jerome's home and safety embodied. Seeing such anger now threw Jerome for a loop. How would he leave Harley now if things got bad like it used to be with his mom? I had taken Jerome eighteen years to kill his mother and get away from her, and she had been... terrible. How would he do the same to Harley, who had claimed all of the most important parts of Harley and become essential to Jerome's insanity. Harley was the one who calmed him after nightmares, and defused a situation that set off something that triggered backlash from Jerome's past. Harley was the one who saved him from his uncle and his brother and his past. How would he get rid of someone like that?

"You looked... like her." The words were soft.

Harley froze. "Jerome-"

Jerome turned away and left. He said some joke but didn't hear it, too busy trying to think about how to backtrack and defend himself again from these emotions with Harley's help. "Never mind," he breathily dismissed, waving his hand in the air.

Harley wasn't having it though. He caught the hand, forcing Jerome to stop and face him. His face was serious, but his eyes were soft. "I would never hurt you, do you understand?I might what I said that day I pulled you from that ledge, Jerome Valeska. You lead, I will follow. I love you and I will do anything you ask of me. You don't have to be afraid of me. Even if i get angry and break shit, you are still safe with me."

"You're so dramatic," Jerome sighed, looping his arm over Harley's shoulders. His body had relaxed though. Even if he did a fantastic job of brushing things off and playing like nothing effected him, Harley's words had brought him a sense of peace he would never admit he needed. "I mean, anything? You won't even let me leave or kill our brothers."

Harley blew air out of his nose upon remembering Bruce. "If that's what you really want."

"Really?" Jerome faced him, surprised. Harley had been so adamant about doing neither for the last several weeks. Why change his mind now? Unlike Harley, Jerome was not a good people reader. Not for details, at least. He could tell when someone was scared of him, or when they were intrigued or interested or disgusted. He couldn't read Harley's micro signs though.

Harley rolled his eyes. "Ran into Bruce on my way back today." His lips curled but this time it didn't make Jerome nervous. He couldn't even think why Harley would remind him of his mother. Jerome broke things when he was angry too. Harley hadn't even know Jerome's mom. He was getting side tracked, but Harley spoke again, pulling his thoughts back as Harley's voice always did. "Jeremiah wants us to make amends and catch up. Wants us to spend dinner together. Ugh."

"My brother trying to make the world perfect for him?" Jerome joked. "Never."

Harley chuckled softly. No matter his state, Jerome could always make him laugh. "Yeah. I just- Bruce stills wants me to be that weak little scared boy I used to be. I'm better now. Happier and stronger. Maybe that scares him because I didn't succeed the way he wanted me to, but that doesn't change the fact that I can fight for myself now. I don't just settle and lie down and take shit. If he had it his way, along with everyone in this stupid city, I would sit in a chair in the corner of every room and sit in Bruce's shadow, there to talk to him when he needs company but otherwise be ignored and be okay with that. Alone, by myself, maybe with a girl who I can have kids with." He shuddered and Jerome followed with a scowl. Neither liked the idea of that, "Even worse, I'd be working for my younger brother. Working at Wayne incorporated, or as some sort of side kick as he stop bad guys or whatever." He grunted in disgust. "As if they even know what bad is."

Jerome pulled Harley toward the couch and next to him. When they were both seated, Jerome continued to tug on Harley until the boy curled into the redhead's side. All cuddled up, both seemed to feel a lot better with the words of a future that made both of them sick still ringing in their ears. "You know, if we're going back to being gay and doing crime and all that fun stuff, it might not hurt to be around your brother."

Harley sat up, eyebrows pulled together. "Why him? He's just a cop wannabe."

"He's friends with Gordon though, isn't he? Can you imagine how much power you had at your fingertips when everyone thought you were good and harmless and not even a wisp of a threat? Now you're none of those things, and the only person who knows your true potential is Mr. Penguin." He shrugged, his smile growing. "I've seen you do it before. Heard stories about your escapades with the Little Man, and you've told me before how valuable sneaking is. Never something I did because I never could have pulled it off, but you..." He pointed at Harley, getting excited now. "Why isn't Bruce following you around, or questioning you, or taking you to the police in an attempt to find me?"

Tracing the pattern of the couch, Harley tried not to smirk. "I told him what he wanted to hear."

The smirk that Harley was repressing shone on Jerome's face like light from the sun. Brilliant and bright. He hopped up onto the couch into a crouch, his fingers dancing in the air like he was constructing an orchestra. "What a clever boy. Deserves a reward..."

Now Harley grinned. "What did you have in mind?"

[fulokis]

Thoughts on Wandavision

Spoilers duh.

I started this out as a boredom watch as in eh why not. I was not really invested until Evan Peters showed up. Evan Peters aka the guy who played quicksilver in the X-men fox universe. With DoFP being my favorite partially because of quicksilver. So naturally I became way more invested in the show, not only that but I became hyper-fixated on X-men as a result.

So marvel brings in this actor and all the fans of the X-men are like yeah duh that makes sense, especially considering Wanda is heavily involved with MoM, the movie about the freakin multiverse. So fans of X-men and doctor strange (of which I am both) become exited for the possibilities that this opens up. Excitement builds and as a result people end up watching more content on Disney+ whether it be the movies shows ect.

And then they go and say nope it’s not. And even if they do retcon it it’s still a really crappy thing to have done. And what do I mean, this is part of marvel trying to surprise fans through subverting expectations. And yes sometimes it’s nice, but other times you end up with a mess that leaves more questions than answers.

Take Endgame and Infinity war. Now I knew that Thanos was going to win in infinity war. It was a matter of how he would win. But part of my issue with infinity war is that it felt like it barely spent time exploring how the different characters would interact with each other because there were too many and it would have blocked the narrative from moving forward. Endgame had a similar issue but on top of that they were so focused on keeping everything locked up that it didn’t exactly feel like a cohesive movie. And as a result the character interactions and relationships fell quite short. Not only that but some of them made no sense, but taking a look at endgames flaws has happened enough.

So taking a look at wandavision I’m not upset that my therory is incorrect. I’m upset that one they literally did this to subvert expectations because they hate when their shows are predictable, and two people are rubbing it in our faces that we were wrong and we shouldn’t be upset because it was a theory. And what’s more is that they had an example of fans being correct and it was still surprising.

My mouth still dropped at the reveal that it was Agatha. I still was surprised even though I knew it was coming. I know a lot of people were. And I can say it was because of the fact that we got it right that we knew where it was going and it was executed in a way that still made it feel like a big reveal. So why then are they trying to surprise the fans with well it was Ralph duh haha got you.

Because for some reason marvel hates when people can predict something. Which makes me wonder why they went with the infinity war storyline and are seemingly going with the Skrull storyline if they don’t want fans to predict what’s happening? Why are they going with well known storylines from the comics if they don’t want anyone to guess what is happening? Especially if the fans know the storylines and end up becoming disappointed if you don’t include this one specific moment.

And this is an issue because it sets up fans to know how something will play out, then turning around to subvert expectations ending up with something that doesn’t quite make sense with the narrative they had set up and teased and the characters. It doesn’t work to take pre established stories and adapt them to the screen while trying to subvert expectations. You need to pick one or the other, you simply can not do both.

There’s a reason that people are so finicky when adaptations of books are brought to the screen. It’s because they enjoy those stories and they want to see it as close up on the screen as possible. They want to see how they imagine it. And yes it’s tricky because people imagine it many different ways, but with comics honestly you have a story board right there. And yes you will need to change certain things especially to fit in the budget and physics of real life. Not to mention erase some of the problematic social injustices found in the earlier comics.

And yes wandavision isn’t based on one comic story line. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have to be predictable. Take a look at some other examples that I can think of that either were predictable and good or subverted expectations in a positive way that didn’t confuse people.

Mandalorian: Luke Skywalker being brought in was a surprise. We knew that a Jedi might come, in fact it seemed quite likely that a Jedi would come to train Grogu. But the thing was we didn’t know who, we didn’t know if it would be Luke or another Jedi. Potentially it could have been one we hadn’t met, but we knew that one was coming and that still didn’t stop us from being surprised. And if it wasn’t Luke people wouldn’t have been mad because they left it ambiguous who the Jedi was until he was onscreen (unlike deliberately casting an actor that is known for a role then saying nope not him).

Mandalorian: This one is short but it’s a way to do both predictability and subverting expectations. The first episode of the second season was legitimately the plot from the 2003 game Knights of the Old Republic or Kotor for short. Fans of the game knew exactly how it would turn out, or at least how they would attempt to kill the dragon. They did do that, but unlike expected it didn’t work. So they tried a different tactic that paid off. As a kotor fan I expected this, I also expected the pearl at the end of the episode, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying it, and honestly I rather enjoyed it and it was fun. And I think most kotor fans would agree.

A series of Unfortunate Events: The Netflix show not the movie. In the books Olaf’s bench people get killed off, in the show they made it so that these people survive. I didn’t expect that, and it was good. The writers were still able to make something that fans of the book knew exactly what was going to happen and the general way that things were going to happen. But they adjusted things so that there were some surprises to viewers who read the books. And none of the changes were done specifically to subvert expectations they were done to enhance the story in certain ways. And they do even if they weren’t completely expected. And it still allows me to enjoy the show.

Kotor: yes I’m talking about the game and yes I’m still obsessed with it despite it being so old but also spoilers for it follow so skip if you don’t wish to know.

Kotor follows the story of a human being, they discover slowly that they were once feared across the galaxy known as the Sith Lord Darth Revan. Now can you figure out the twist through context clues absolutely. But it was not only revolutionary for the time but also knowing it still doesn’t take away the surprise feeling for a lot of players (I’m still surprised pikachu face no matter how many times I play or rewatch the cut scene).

There are many more examples but these are the ones off the top of my head.

I’m not angry at the fact that they were trying to make it surprising. I’m angry at the fact that marvel knowingly did this, and there’s no resolution at all. It’s a throwaway scene for a throwaway character played by a known actor who is known for his role as quicksilver. If it was someone else and they did this it would not be as upsetting. But the fact that marvel did this and knew exactly who they were casting to just mislead the fans is inexcusable. And maybe this isn’t the end of the storyline, but right now it is. 12 hours after the finale it absolutely seems like the end of the storyline. And that’s why people are upset because it was such a clear this is what is happening, then they develop it into just this dude. They led on it was quicksilver and we don’t even get to see the rest of the conversation that Monica has with him. We get no resolution whatsoever. And that’s what hurts the most, if they had explained hey Agatha did this and managed to somehow do X Y or Z to have this random person have powers and these memories. Now it would be cheep and people would still be upset but not as much with the incomplete explanation and the throwing it in there because they had to.

If they really wanted to subvert expectations they one shouldn’t have brought Evan Peters in to play a quicksilver (I hate saying this because I was so exited). Two shouldn’t have gone with anything to do with Agatha or even Mephisto. And a lot of people would probably wonder who they could have gone with and Tbh I don’t remember who I saw said it but Mojo would make sense. Or hell they could have brought in Evan Peters and an alternate version of Wanda who is causing this to happen and stir the pot. Either way the way they executed it was extremely poorly done and that’s why people are upset.

So please consider that for people this would have made a huge statement for. X-men fans are drawn to the X-men for many reasons. And I would say that some of those reasons are that they belong to a minority group and feel represented in the X-men. Me I’m LGBT+ and despite having grown up in a very progressive area, there are people I interact with where I don’t feel like I can be myself or even feel comfortable coming out to. And that’s why I personally am attached to the X-men. And I’ve seen other people say similar things.

For people the X-men and mutants aren’t just characters. They’re characters that marginalized groups can relate to. They’re characters that they can see themselves in. This goes much more deep than my fan theory wasn’t correct. It’s a combination of crappy writing and Marvel attempting to be surprising and the fact that they had the perfect opportunity to introduce a cast of characters that represent struggles of marginalized communities and recognize that yes the world isn’t just filled with hero’s that are cis straight abled men and women. And even if it was people from another universe it still was a step in the right direction.

So please if you’re fine with this and took the time to read this don’t make fun of the people who are quite upset with the developments of the episode. A lot of us are upset for a deeper reason and seeing people go “haha you’re wrong you idiots.” Makes this feel that much more upsetting.

[mcmystery]

Cerise’s Request (long post)

Cerise has been thinking for some time now, that something may be missing in her life. She has a lovely home secluded in the deepest part of the woods within the Continent of Sanus. Everything in her home brings her comfort and joy, for she has books to read, a kitchen filled with all the things to bake and cook, even a huge outside area for her to explore and play in. Though, with her husband away at times, she has no one to read books with, someone to enjoy the things she bakes and cooks, and no one for her to explore and play with in the deep forest that surrounds their cozy nest.

She mostly enjoys her home whenever her husband comes back from his work. Once she’s calmed down from her over excitement of him being back with her, they enjoy every moment together. She takes care of him as he rests from his work and enjoys the back and forth conversations they have as she prepares loving meals for him. Sometimes, they walk through the forest and admire the nature that surrounds their home or play games of hide and seek, were Cerise always wins. Most of all, she loves the evenings where they sit together in their living room. It’s the time they can catch up with each other, each giving what they’ve done during their time apart. Both bundled together in the others presence. Maybe a glass of wine here and there, or a quiet staring contests that usually ends with loving kisses, muffled giggles and no victor.

Three years into their marriage and the cycle repeats but never dulls in her heart. It’s the time alone that brings in the melancholy thoughts of not being able to share these precious moments with someone that’s just as important to her, like her husband. Then, a beloved thought crossed her mind, or rather a phone conversation between her and her parents who nudged the idea. It was wonderful for her to think about, and she thought about it day and night. An idea she couldn’t wait to spring onto her husband. Of course, once he comes back from work that is.

The day came, that Cerise was waiting for. Her husband notified her that he would be back home in the evening and she giggled with fluttery emotions of happiness. Once he arrived, she took notice of his tired character, so she put her question away for the night and tended to his fatigue. A nice meal between the two, which followed with a warm shower that they shared. As they dried each other off, he carried her to bed and not waste time to remind her how much he loved her. Between her blurred thoughts, Cerise questioned his energy reserve, for he was quite passionate this night. Maybe he was saving his energy for this moment that they could spend together. Either way, both came to find slumber in each other’s arms.

The next morning, Cerise awoke to find her husband already out of bed. He’s well rested now, so it’s the perfect opportunity to ask him the question that’s been on her mind since her parents last phone conversation. She quickly got out of bed, dressed herself enough to be decent and skipped out the bedroom door into the living room where her husband sat reading from his scroll.

“Good morning, honey~!” Cerise greeted happily.

“Morning, sleep well?” He responded, with a bit of a smirk. She sat down next to him on the couch but gave some space between them.

“Of course, though it would’ve been better to wake up next to you.” She pouted a bit.

He chuckled as his eyes went back to his scroll reading the news for the day. “Well, you tend sleep in, must I stay and wait for you to wake up?”

“Yes.” A simple and honest answer, but Cerise already wanted to jump into the next subject that’s she’s been eager to talk about. She watched her husband’s eyes scan side to side as he read.

“Hey, honey, can I ask you something?” Cerise inserted, her heart began to quicken in pace.

“Sure, what is it?” His eyes still fixated on the screen of his scroll.

“How do you feel about…” She paused briefly, holding herself from blurting out the word and frightening him. “children?”

He looked up from his scroll, but instead of looking at her to give his answer, he’s eyes slowly made there way back to the wordy screen. “They’re pleasant to be around, innocent.”

Cerise didn’t expect that kind of answer, or maybe she didn’t know what to expect. Some sort of excited spark in his eyes, a joyful smile or maybe lunging at her to just get down to business.

“Okay, how would you feel about…us having children?” She asked again.

This time her husband put down his scroll and looked at her, “Cerise, are you pregnant?” He responded with a small smile, but eyebrows knit together.

“WHAT! No! I mean…not yet?” She shrugged and gave an awkward grin back at him.

He chuckled to himself lightly, “You want to have children?”

“Yessss!” She laid herself towards him on the couch, “I mean, we’ve been married for like, 3 years now. Plus, my parents asked when we should be expecting and oh! If we don’t have any soon now, my parents won’t last to see their grandchildren grow up!” She gripped at her husbands pants as if pleading.

He looked down at her, giving her a raised eyebrow, “Cerise, there should be a more adequate reason to have a child besides just that. Either way, having a child is a lot of work. They need care and lots of attention, to be fed, bathed, dressed and don’t get me started on education. If I’m not here, it would be a lot of work for just you, and I can’t really take time off right now.”

Cerise peered up at him, “Hmm, you sound like you know a lot about raising a child.”

He became tense with her stare. “Um-” he was caught off.

“That must mean you’re ready to have some!” She quickly got up from her laying position and climbed over him, straddling his lap. “Don’t worry, maybe my parents can come help me out if you’re not here!”

“Wha- Cerise! Please, I’m trying to read today’s news, can’t we discuss this matter later.”

“Please, honey! I really want your baby~!” She begged, gripping his shoulders and staring right at him.

His cheeks tinted a slight shade of pink, “You shouldn’t say it out loud like that!” He said as he pinned his eyes to hers.

“What, why? We live alone, what else am I to say? Please, knock me up?” She whispered her last phrase. He pushed himself up from the couch and left her to fall from him, leaving the room.

Cerise felt hurt, he never avoided her in such a way, but before her thoughts started to deepen with negative connotation, her focus is brought back to a bag of flour presented to her.

“Here.” Her husband gifted her with.

Cerise grabbed the bag of flour slowly, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“It’s your new baby, take care of it like it’s a real one.” He responded.

Cerise looked at the paper bag of flour, “But it’s just flour…”

Her husband sat back down next to her. “It is, but just use this as an exercise. Seriously look at this bag of flour and believe it’s a baby that you must care for. If you’re serious about having a child, then practice with this. Believe it’s a real baby, do research on how to care for and nurture it. If I see you can properly take care of this, we can discuss more about having a child of our own.”

Cerise looked at the bag of flour and gave a questionable look, but if this will prove to her husband that she serious about a baby, then she’ll do it. “You got it! I’ll take care of this baby like you’ve never seen!” She leaped from her seat and raised the flour in the air, excited.

Over the couple of days her husband stayed home, Cerise read up all on how to properly take care of a child. She struggled to do a proper diaper or make a decent bottle to feed their powdery bundle of joy. At one time, she almost dropped the bag of flour on the floor but caught it roughly with her semblance of strings. At each moment her husband watched her actions and saw her struggle, but she was dedicated to face through these somewhat failures.

As the night came, he came to bed to find Cerise sleeping soundly next to the baby bag of flour. He chuckled under his breath at her devotion, because it was endearing to him. In fear of flour spilling all over the bed, he gently pulled it away from her. Cerise awoke just slightly, but her husband quietly assured her that he would take care of the “baby” for a bit. She nodded and laid her head back to bed.

He took the flour bag, that Cerise started showing loving affection to, back to the kitchen. In a humorous attempt, he rocked the bag like the baby to amuse himself. He froze. His mind raced with images of children that flashed quickly in his mind. He held the bag just below his face, looking at it. Droplets of tears fell onto the paper material and dampened it. He stayed there for a while, standing alone in a dark kitchen, as he silently let his tears run out of control.

In the morning Cerise awoke, again not seeing her husband next to her, but also the baby she came to love, missing. Her thoughts were cut off as a delicious smell trickled into their bedroom. Cerise got up and headed slowly to the kitchen. She wiped the sleep away from her eyes as she entered.

“Honey, what are you doing?” She asked as her vision came clear to seeing her husband making pancakes, next to his cooking station, the half empty bag of flour. “W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

He flipped the fluffy disc in the pan, “I’m making pancakes, how many do you want?”

Cerise was in shock, “NO! The baby!” She rushed over and looked at the damages. “How could you!?”

“Cerise, its flour.” Was his response.

“No, he’s not! He’s a baby with feelings and, and…” She came to look at the contents of what she was holding. Silence filled the kitchen. Cerise then dumped the remaining flour on the floor.

Her husband jumped back as the flour spread across the floor and the dust lifted in the air. “HEY! Why did you do that?!”

“BECAUSE YOU MADE ME GET SENTIMENTAL OVER A DUMB BAG OF FLOUR!” She answered, crunching the bag in her hand.

They both looked intensely at each other, then the husband spoke. “You’re helping me clean this up.”

“Hmph, after pancakes…” She turned her back to him, arms crossed.

As they ate in silence, Cerise pouted between bites. Her husband watched her carefully, feeling guilty. He didn’t think she would be this upset over a bag of flour, but at least he knew that she truly did want to devote her time to take care of something so important. And maybe he needs to reconsider his priorities, to spend more time with her, or at least rearrange his working schedule to make time for her and possibly a family.

 “Cerise…” He started. Cerise didn’t look at him but continued her meal. “You want a baby?”

Cerise looked at him, with a gleam of hope in her eyes. “Yes.” She responded simple and honestly.

“Will that make you happy?” He asked. She dropped her utensils and looked at him directly and clasped her hands together.

 “More than anything.” She spoke back with desperation.

 “…Okay, I promise. We can have a baby.” He spoke softly and gave a warm smile to her.

With this Cerise smiled brightly and she started eating away at her meal in quick pace. Her husband became startled at her sudden appetite.

“Hey, don’t eat too fast! What’s the hurry?” He questioned.

 “I mwant tou try fright away!!” She muffled between bites.

He looked at her, then he sat back in his seat blushing a bit, “Your honesty is too much for me sometimes…”

“You say something?” She questioned, being that she was focusing on finishing her meal.

He waved his hand in front of his face, as if to ignore what he said and replied instead with, “Just eat slower, you’ll end up throwing it all up.”

------

Another writing prompt for Cerise and her mysterious husband TvT!! Now we know where his promise to her came from!  Still need to work on my writing skills but I’m trying though!!

[an-ambivalent]

Yandere! BTS [Fairytale AU]

AU where BTS play the roles of the classic princesses, and are yandere. These are loosely based on the fairy tales, but somethings will be different because that's how I want it to be lol

Warning: As this post contains yandere themes, the characters display behaviors that can be uncomfortable to read. Read at your own risk. This work is purely fiction. I do not believe any of the mentioned members would display any sort of this behaviour irl.

Jin 

Beauty & the Beast

Jin is succumbed to become the hostage of the beast in exchange for his parent’s safety. Initially, he was very cold to [Name] the beast because she had confined him, and she was the reason why he had become separated from his family. However, although he was ‘imprisoned,’ he was not treated as a prisoner. In fact, he was given a lavish life that was even better than the one he lived with his family.

It happened slowly, but it happened for surely. Jin began to warm up to the new life he lived. Also, he became intrigued about what [Name] the beast was really like, when he heard stories about her kindness, and selfness from the tea pots and other talking furniture. He started to see how sweet she was in the little ways that made his heart skip a beat. Her benevolent nature  was evident in the way she would tenderly cater to the plants in her garden, or how softly she would read to him.

Without becoming too aware of it, Jin was beginning to become fixated on [Name]. He did not realize the full potential of his fixation on [Name] until she was attacked by his villagers. The moment [Name] fainted, and was no longer able to stand, much less fight for herself, rage blinded him enough to go on a killing rampage. Once his rampage ceased, and the blood of his enemies covered him, he stumbled back to [Name], who was lying motionlessly.

He cradled her in his arms, and tears of silent mourning rolled down his cheeks. The moment one landed on [Name], there was a bright glow as she turned back into the human she was.

Jin was in awe of her beauty. Meanwhile, [Name] woke up terrified due to all the blood that covered him.

“J-Jin what h-hap—“ She tried to ask, however Jin cut her off.

“Shh,” He began, as he brought her closer to himself, and hugged her tightly. “I killed them because they hurt you and tried to take you away from me. But you don’t have to worry because I will never let that happen again. You are mine forever.”

Yoongi 

Sleeping Beauty

Before his slumber until awaken by a true kiss had begun, Prince Yoongi was a collector and admirer of all things beautiful. He loved to marvel at anything which fit his standards. If there was ever an antique which there was only one of, and Yoongi had set his sight on it, every competitor during his era knew to let him have it for their own sake.

In the new era he now lived in, he was the lost prince who had returned. He was given the right to rule the current throne in his kingdom almost immediately.  After his power reigned, the new competitors learned to stay out of Yoongi’s way the hard way.

See, [Name] was his destined princess who was the one who had broken his curse. Out of everyone else, and all other possibilities,it had been her. So surely, it was fateful for her to belong to Yoongi and no one else.

Yoongi had become infatuated with [Name] the moment he had seen her. Now, that infatuation had become so extreme that he was going to stop at nothing until she was completely his. Anyone who tried to prevent that from happening, were certainly going to face consequences which would be worse than death.

Hoseok 

Aladdin

For his entire, Hoseok had been isolated from the outside world. He had his freedom restricted within his home.  He never got to experience life for its raw experiences, create meaningful relationships with others, or explore the ways excitement and adrenaline felt until he met [Name]. Granted that she had peaked his interest unfairly through the wishes the genie gave her, and she portrayed herself to be the status she was not. However, what she had shown Hoseok, what she had made him feel was all on her own terms. The parts of life she showed him took his breath away.

Hoseok experienced what it was like to live in a situation for what it was; in which limitations existed, and no one catered to him like a baby. He got to taste true freedom and build the courage to make his own decisions, all because of [Name]. In his dull life that once only consisted of materialistics and statuses, she had become his light, and  shown on the colours he yearned to see.

Eventually, he became addicted to her light to the point he planned to shroud her entire life with the darkness he had to live in. This was so he could return the favour, and become her light in her darkness, the way she had for him.

Namjoon 

Snow White

It was no new news to anyone in the kingdom that the current Queen [Name] [Surname], hated one of the local aristocrats Kim Namjoon with a burning passion. To the public, their relationship seemed like a small rivalry which caused them to always banter, or attempt to hurt each other out of innocent jealousy or spite. However, in reality, their relationship went a lot deeper than that. It was a lot more dangerous and toxic than what others could see it as.

Firstly, [Name] wanted to hunt and get rid off Namjoon because she was envious of his attractive appearance. He was everything that she wanted to be, and held all the titles that she wanted to have. [Name] wished to be known as the most divine and beautiful person in her Kingdom. She was incredibly pretty, but Namjoon was the perfection she could not beat. Hence, she wanted his existence to cease.

However, despite her attempts to send assassins to kill him, none ever succeeded. Her predicament actually led the situation in a direction she had not anticipated. It was in the direction where Namjoon had come to love her for her hatred and glory, and he loved the excitement of the chase and action he experienced due to her hunting him. For him, this had all turned into a game, and this game was nearing its end when he was the one who had captured [Name] instead.

“You can’t— you can’t get rid off me,” [Name] stammered in fear, while Namjoon backed her into a corner. His lips were spread across his face in a sinister grin, and there was madness glinting in his eyes.

“Oh baby, I’m not going to get rid off you. You are too much fun at the moment for that to happen. Instead, I’m going to hunt and chase you now until you break and submit to me.”

(makane line under the cut!)

Jimin  

Cinderella

For the majority part of his life, Jimin had lived in cruel circumstances where he was treated like an abomination. He was forced to cook, clean, and serve the people that was ‘supposed’ to be his family, but never treated him as such. Despite everything that he did for them, they never repaid him with even the smallest act of kindness. It was not farfetched to say that Jimin had not been genuinely happy for years. But this, and everything else in his life changed from the night he sneaked into the ball which was hosted by the princess.

He only went to the ball because he simply wanted to enjoy himself for one night by dancing through its entirety. However, fate had better plans written for him because he attracted the attention of the princess. She was the first one in years to smile so fondly at him, and treat him with kindness, and as the person he was.

His time with the princess in that night was absolutely magical; he loved every moment of it. For this reason, after being wedded to the princess and through starting their new life together, he came to cherish her kind personality a bit too much.

He turned into a possessive tyrant who wanted to be the only one to receive her kindness, and relentlessly punished others who dared to avert her sweet attention away from him.

Taehyung 

Swan Lake

In this tale of magic and romance, Taehyung was a cursed prince who spent his days as a swan, and nights as a human in loneliness. There was no one for him to converse with, spend his time with, or to love. Until one day, a princess came along. She visited his abode in the evenings to escape her royal life, and for a “breath of fresh air.” She caressed his soft feathers lovingly, and told him the tales of her world. She become the sole light in Taehyung’s darkness, and he was enamored.

One night, he promised to himself that the next evening when the princess visited, he would reveal his identity to her. He believed that by doing this, she will fall in love with him too, and as a result, his curse would end.

However, when the princess never visited again, and Taehyung found out about her marriage to another, he was enraged.

Finally, he decided to set out on a journey to find his princess. He swore to end the person who dared to try and steal her away from him, in the cruelest way he could.  

Jungkook 

The Little Mermaid (lol how original. It's not like I already have a whole story with this au for JK and just reusing it for this thread because I was out of ideas)

Jungkook is the new crowned King for the merfolk. Under the sea, unlike humans, merfolk only consisted of males. Jungkook was already obsessed with humans to the point he spent his entire time and resources to gather intel on them and neglected his duties for his people. However, his obsession went to new extreme levels when he saved a drowning woman, and became besotted by her beauty.

The softness of her skin, to the memorizing sight of her drowning face -- Jungkook was immersed and was willing to go beyond any limits to have her his. Compared to his need to find [Name] on the shore and own her as a possession, everything else fell short and became insignificant. His responsibility as the new ruler for his people, or consideration for the life [Name] lived as a human was disregarded. All that mattered to Jungkook was [Name], and that she should belong to him.

(you can find the link to the whole story on my masterpost ^^)

[wonderlxngbottom]

ABOUT ALICE

I spotted ALICIA ‘ALICE’ IMELDA LONGBOTTOM NEE CROUCH in Diagon Alley early today. Have you heard the rumors? Supposedly the PUREBLOOD is affiliated with THE ORDER. Born on FEBRUARY / 29 / 1957, they are TWENTY-FIVE and identify as CIS FEMALE (SHE/HER) and BISEXUAL. They work as a AUROR / are EMPLOYED; it makes sense, given they are FIXATED & ABRUPT but also TENACIOUS & VIVACIOUS. When I think of them, I think of sun shining through thick green leaves in the canopy of the rainforest, the crack of a pencil’s lead, laughter induced hiccups.

Faceclaim: Adria Arjona

Biography

Plenty know the story of the Longbottom’s. Plenty know the story of the Crouch family. Few know what they have in common. Alice. Alicia Imelda Crouch was born to the brother and sister in law of Bartemus Crouch Sr, not in England but in South America where they resided ( and flourished ) until the family moved to Britain for Guillermo’s new position as the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

The first Crouch child born to the brother’s Bartemius and Guillermo; was a girl. Born to Guillermo Crouch and Xiomara Vázquez in a leap year; Alice was expected to be a boy. This expectation was further enforced by the doula looking after her mother and herself during the pregnancy; insisting she was a boy. She’d used a family tradition which had never failed her, until Alice’s birth. To cover his embarrassment ( the family had announced and celebrated the baby boy they were to have ), Guillermo announced that he and his wife were surprised at the birth with twins, a boy and a girl, and unfortunately his son had perished. So little Alice grew up mourning a brother she’d never had to begin with.

Alice grew up with a mother who encouraged her to explore her home and magic, and strive to be unapologetically herself; unapologetically Crouch. Her father’s reception to her differed on the situation and company they were in. Alice learned early on that her father had an unfortunate care for what other’s thought about the family; and he did not look favourably upon anything that could cast a shadow upon their name. Magic and ettiquette lessons before schooling were different in South America to Britain ( from what Alice could ascertain when she inquired with peers when at Hogwarts ) teaching was based a lot less on theoretical practices and more on the practical; children were taught to feel the magic; the crackling in the air around you, the tingles under your skin. It was these early lessons that lead Alice to be able to cast somewhat wandlessly when she grew. She didn’t start her schooling at Hogwarts until third year; having spent the first two years of her magical education at Castelobruxo in Brazil. However, when her father was given a position within the British Ministry of Magic; they family moved over and her education was transferred to Hogwarts.

Language wasn’t as much of a barrier than you would like; Alice was taught English from birth so that she could communicate with extended family more easier, and also because a multi-lingual person was better equipped for the world ( according to her father ). However, she did find some things about Britain odd; one being the lack of greenery; concrete seemed to be favoured surface. Riding the train to Hogwarts for the first time, Alice was curious, but unsure. Friendships had already been forged, and lessons taught. Although it had been decided her education at Caselbruxo had prepared her for the same level as those she was joining; she was concerned that the schools focused on different things. There was also the fact she had to enter the hall with the first years, of who she stood well above, to be sorted. Six minutes passed before the hat uttered where she’d stay; Ravenclaw.

Making friends turned out not to be too difficult for Alice; she was enigmatic and engaging, she threw herself fully into anything she did. She was honest and fair. She learned half way through the third year that she excelled in offensive and defensive magic; finding Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms and Transfiguration her favourite lessons ( other than Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology ). Alice joined the duelling club, astronomy club, herbology club and was invited to dine with the Slug Club. She joined the Quidditch team in her fourth year to burn off excess energy that seemed to sit in her bones and cause her to stay awake deep into the night.

As the whisperings of war began to surface, Alice felt a divide ( that had already been there ) shift. The gap between them widened and those who didn’t sit with either side fell into the gap between. Her family became divided; and although she’d already rocked the boat by making friends that weren’t just purebloods, and speaking up against prejudice at dinner parties ( much to her father’s discomfort ) expectations fell upon her. She was relieved when her father expressed that it would jeopardise his position at the Ministry if he annouced a side; it meant she could sit under that and focus on her studies. Exams were hard enough without blood politics coming into it. And when she achieved Outstanding’s and Exceed Exceptions; her future was wide open for her. Politics had never been her strong point however ( far too people pleasing and boring ) that she decided that although she wanted to make a difference; she could do that better by being involved and being hands-on. And so her sights were set of becoming an Auror.

When pressure became too much, her father crumbled and joined the Death Eaters ( although it should be said that fear for your safety and life should count for something ), but Alice did not follow suit. She refused; caring for her friends and those she had grown close too who had shown her that life was more than who your parents were and what blood you possessed; and magic wasn’t determined by that either. In her final year; she was cast from her familial home ( that obvious issue of caring what other’s thought too much proving once again intrinsic to her father ) for her refusal to join the cause, but was taken in by The Weasley/Prewett Family. It was with their support that she passed her NEWTS and was accepted into the Auror Programme, and joined the Order.

Training and qualifying to become an Auror was an incredible feeling and Alice had never been happier; that was until she married Frank Longbottom. The man who had taught her that her ambition and cunning was an assett and endearing. The man who had shown her that her laugh could make brighten any room. The man who stayed up giggling with her all night. The man who made her feel wanted and loved again after her parents turned their backs on her ( even her mother who wouldn’t have if not for loyalty to her husband ). The man who had helped her create the perfect little human; one of the greatest loves of her life, her son, Neville.

[natsspammityspamspamham]

I HAVE FINISHED ALL THE ROUTES OF FE THREE HOUSES (for now) - SPOILERS

There’s DLC saying there will be new content and new characters and all of that starting April 30th 2020. I just thought that “new content”?! DID YOU MEAN NEW ROUTE?! I’m sorry for being dumb.

However, THIS LINK indicates that there will be a “Completely” new story.

This new update (the free one) will offer LUNATIC MODE for all ya crazy people.

https://fireemblem.nintendo.com/three-houses/downloadable-content/

 Each takes about 20-25 hours depending on the time you want to spend grinding and/or exploring. If you read through every line and wait for the voice actors to finish every line, maybe it’ll take you 70 or something.

The storyline of this game was such a step up from Fates partially because the Fates storyline was shit, we all knew it, and I still enjoyed it despite having a seemingly bland cast and a terrible story. On the other hand, your weapons don’t run out of ammo. This game was vastly different with no weapon triangle, pair-ups, and all that other stuff from Awakening and Fates. Keep in mind, I’m a filthy casual that’s only played Shadow Dragon, Awakening, and Fates.

This game was so much fun. If you want to enjoy it for yourself, don’t read on because there are plenty of spoilers for the whole family!

This is the game in a nutshell: Which of you likeable people shall I kill? Yes, I find Edelgard likeable. 

Church of Seiros (Normal/Casual - Black Eagles then decide not to side with Edelgard)

This route was my first. I made a mistake of not recruiting anyone else. It was a little sad without an overpowered house leader (I’m looking at you, Claude). I didn’t like Rhea. I accidentally chose this route. I wouldn’t mind doing it again, but again, I don’t like Rhea.

I played it on casual to get used to the mechanics. That and I’m a filthy casual.

I feel like this is probably my least favourite route because of the absence of a house leader and because I was so ignorant as to not recruit anyone from the other houses. I played as a male character. I chose Petra at the end. She’s so sweet and nice. She is everything that I stand for.

I would give it a solid 7/10.

Black Eagles (Normal/Classic - Choose to go against the church)

Ah, revolution. Go against the church, side with the people who murdered your father, but then realize it’s too late to go back and that Rhea. Weirdly, it made sense to me at the time considering how I felt a strong sense of betrayal towards Rhea anyway. I recruited everyone I wanted (Ingrid, Felix, Sylvain) except for Annette and Lysithea I think? I’m pretty sure I also got Marianne. I didn’t manage to get Ashe, but after a playthrough of Blue Lions, I now realize I missed out on nothing. I couldn’t use the guy. I just got Bernadetta, and despite being under levelled, she fulfilled his role and better.

Edelgard is the second strongest out of the house leaders I think. This route was fun because it was the one full of revolution. It was what would be considered as “turning evil for the sake of good”. I just remember really enjoying the gameplay and defeating Dimitri. I, however, didn’t appreciate Edelgard just stealing the last moment and killing Dimitri. You have a choice to kill Claude. In the end, Claude can live on pretty much all routes.

Again, I really enjoyed this route. I would definitely play and again, and I will.  Married Edelgard with a female avatar.

Golden Deer (Normal/Classic - Fear the Deer - This is about as neutral as you can get for now)

This is arguably as neutral as you can get... for now. Claude is a great unit, a great guy, and Joe is so devoted to this role. I played in both Japanese and English (switched whenever I turned on the system). I did kind of prefer Toshi’s interpretation at times, but Joe had a ton of good moments where I preferred his voice as well. For one, I feel like Toshi has far more experience with confession scenes, so when I chose Claude in the end, Toshi delivered better there, but the localization did wonders for Joe as well. The script changes made sure that Claude became the character that everyone knows and loves.

Gameplay-wise, at this point, I just recruited all my guys and gals from the other houses and ignored A TON of the Golden Deer, and I feel no remorse. They’re alive and kicking... just not on the field. I got a ton of my Black Eagles (Dorothea, Caspar, Linhardt, Petra) and a ton of my Blue Lions (Felix, Ingrid, Sylvain, and probably a few others I’m not remembering).

Overall, I think this was my favourite route because Claude was awesome, so overpowered with his relic, and he’s just an awesome guy that should’ve been bi but the confession end card was drawn with only the female avatar which makes Edelgard the only confirmed bi out of the three.

Blue Lions (Normal/Classic - STRONG OOF)

After being scolded on Tumblr for not understanding Dimitri, I went and did the Blue Lions route!

I called this guy insane and got backlash. Let me put it this way, the Black Eagles route cuts him out to be a real big villain. He’s so fixated on revenge that he’s blinded. He causes the deaths of a lot of his former classmates with little to no remorse.

But on this route? Ah, well, he’s still like that for the first half post-time skip. 

This route is rich in backstory. It paints Edelgard is such a bad light which I enjoy so much. Do I like her? Yes. But do I think this is necessary? Absolutely. That last scene was “poetic cinema”. The way the dagger worked and all those broken dreams. All the NPC deaths and things like that. Nice.

I’m still not a huge fan of Dimitri. Gameplay-wise, he was the worst and hardest to use out of the three. I’m also saying that because that person almost ruined this whole route for me.

_____________________

A quick ramble about voice actors for this game:

YOU WOULDN’T BELIEVE HOW HAPPY I WAS TO FIND OUT WE GOT TO HEAR THE JAPANESE VOICES!

As a seiyuu fan, I was ecstatic. However, I did kind of miss that Hosoya didn’t appear in this one. He was Morgan in Awakening and Shigure in Fates. I listened to both casts, and besides a few voices (Japanese Bernadetta killed my ears), I loved both sides no matter how different they were. While some delivery was a little weak (nothing major), I found that it was generally very well-done.

Both Ai Kakuma and Tara Platt stood out to me as Edelgard. For one, Tara Platt is immensely talented. I didn’t hear Ai Kakuma around as much (I only heard her make an appearance in Kimetsu no Yaiba).

Both Kaito Ishikawa and Chris Hackney were great as Dimitri, but I think Chris gave him a bit more of a “snobbish king” kind of feel which was probably better for my perception of his character.

Joe Zieja was iconic as Claude but so was Toshiyuki Toyonaga. Toshi was far suaver and flirtatious and pulling off more of that “otome game” kind of vibe while Joe has contributed so much to the fandom outside of the actual game. It’s much harder to choose between the two for this one.

Both sides really bring it their all, and while I do have my preferences, I would be fine either way.

Of course, these lines weren’t really translated perfectly in the dub. From what I hear, there are a ton of nuances and the way that they spoke that didn’t go both ways. In the end, the gist was the same.

I might ramble further in a separate post because I wanna.

[thechildrendontlaugh]

Exhalation by Ted Chiang: A Reflection

In the simplest of synopsis, Ted Chiang’s most recent short story anthology is about free will vs fate. It is a high-thought premise that utilizes futuristic, complex technology which surrounds very basic philosophical questions man has been toiling against since he first became self-aware.

The illusion of choice, the narratives in which we cling to in order to reinforce or deny those narratives, and the meaninglessness of it all.

Is Chiang’s anthology pessimistic? My own biases say no, but there are no real happy endings in any of his short stories, so others might unequivocally say yes, he is—but I don’t think Chiang’s objective is to ever offer sentimental condolences to his readers. There’s a reason why man has lamented for generations about “the meaning of life”, or “what is love”. Why we have collectively struggled with rationalizing existence in the midst of impending and certain death, or felt conflicted with accepting both the chaos and randomness of existence while also searching for and seeking out a higher power or order to life. Unfortunately, Chiang doesn’t necessarily offer a definitive yes or no, at least not in such crude terms, but I think, very clearly, he establishes (rather convincingly) that there is no real free will, that we are instead on fated paths and the lesson and greater call for meaning comes instead from not just our acceptance and willingness to embrace fate, but in our intentional living and walking of said fated paths.

There are two distinct approaches when presented with this argument of there being no such thing as free will, and I don’t think each is felt the same or at all by everyone, or by even the individual in contemplation. There is acceptance and there is denial, and even within acceptance there are two distinct resolutions. Atrophy or True Acceptance—you are either destroyed by the truth, or you accept it as the reality it has always been and carry on as you have always have, because that is what you were always fated to do.

So what then, is denial?

There is a final story within Chiang’s anthology titled, “Anxiety Is The Dizziness of Freedom,” where the concept of parallel lives further encapsulates the argument of fate vs free will. Essentially it is a story that speaks of the core of a person, what makes you, you, and how that core self is never corrupted or altered, even amongst the infinite possibilities of all the yous that could ever exist. How, at our core, we are who we are, and only small steps—nearly imperceptible movements of will—can lead to our chosen destination, good or bad, but how it is ultimately fated and how our own personal narratives, as impermanent as they are, fit within the structured stories of our lives which always had a fated destination. The crux of the story comes into play with denial, with our fear—our need to impress upon fate, our own will.

If you could see into your future and the reality presented to you reflected one that you hated, do you think you could avoid it, or by the act of a self-fulfilling prophecy, in your attempts to avoid it, run headlong into it?

Believing that everything is already predestined bears its own heavy weight. If we are not masters of our fate, does that automatically mean that there is someone else who is in charge? Is our hunger for order in the certainty of chaos indicative of a higher power, or just our need for belief in one. If there is no god, what does that say for the meaning of existence, of the meaning our own own individual lives? If there is no meaning, does that also mean that there is no purpose? And if there is no purpose, why choose to continue existing at all?

There is the material question of why, and then there is the cosmic question of why. And while Chiang in so many ways answers that material question, the cosmic why remains elusive. I stay alive in my day-to-day because of xyz—my family, my dog, the way the sun feels so good when a breeze passes and I have no other choice but to find pause and delight in the beauty and simplicity of this moment. But why?

I think in the growing pessimistic nihilism of current and upcoming generations, that “why” becomes more elusive, especially as we collectively move away from the cushion of assumed certainty and meaning offered by religion, and into the chaos of existence where we grapple with there being no bigger picture. There is a reason why man, upon the first chance he had, created something to believe in, why rejection of religion has moved to exploration of “spirituality”. We are (or at least assume ourselves to be) creatures who rely upon meaning in order to justify our existence. We say that we are authors of our own destinies—but also find ourselves admitting to the seemingly inescapable influence of factors outside our control; biology and our environments.

When a child asks “why”, are they looking for meaning, or explanation? Is it merely curiosity that drives the why, or is it fear? If I don’t know, does that illicit awe at the complexity of simplicity, or am I suffocated by the immensity of my not knowing—of my hunger to create the illusion of knowing, lest I be lost to the black hole of my own unknowing.

There is a theory, that the universe will eventually end in a similar way that it began, giving rise to a brand new universe in the wake of its death, that we are essentially barreling towards a fated end that is beyond our influence to affect or alter. Does knowing that, change what you will decide to eat for breakfast? Does it matter? The absurdity of existence, is that we have a very defined beginning and end—just like the universe we occupy—and yet we either deny it (fate), create mythologies to bring comfort to that truth, or we try to create work arounds of cognitive dissonance that keep that truth just enough at bay to go on with our lives. We create meaning and convince ourselves of that meaning, and look to the world around us as evidence of said meaning. And in doing so we create our own absurdities. Money, wars, the rights and wrongs of loving same sex vs a different sex. In trying to create order out of chaos we have chained ourselves to truths that aren’t even real, missing the mark completely. We deny ourselves the ability to accept what is. We make it impossible to occupy a space that is safe for us to be the dynamic entities of chaos, barreling towards a fixed ending, that we are. We cling to this idea that there has to be meaning, and that this meaning must be applicable to the whole, and ostracize and defy those who do not follow and accept this status quo of existence. We fight against the idea of there being no free will, but chain ourselves to the constraints and absolutes of fate, and to grapple against fate, is to grapple with the image man has created of himself and projected throughout each proceeding generation. That we matter more. That our existence takes precedence over all else. And that if a god exists, they would not only imbue only ourselves with sentience and consciousness, but find only us worthy of redeeming and consequently saving, as well. To strip away that illusion of ego, to essentially kill it and call it false, means to strip away a facet of ourselves we have mistakingly attributed as not just essential, but the crux of our entire existence. We have become so fixated on absolutes, on blacks and whites that we wholly dismiss the third option, because it is scary, it is uncertain, and it exists outside of our realm of perceived control.

I used to repeat to myself as mantra: I can endure anything, as long as it has meaning. And I began to hinge my life on just that, that either everything had meaning and there was some grand bigger picture that I just couldn’t yet see, or that nothing at all held meaning. In doing so, I eventually backed myself into a corner. I found it increasingly difficult to deny the absurdity of life, to create meaning out of suffering, to attribute the unfolding of life to some higher, benign entity. And so I eventually lost all meaning for my own existence. I had been indoctrinated with this idea that everything had to make sense, and when I came face-to-face with that senselessness it destroyed the very foundation upon which my entire life rested upon. To create meaning, has become synonymous with, a will to live. Perhaps it always has been. But if nothing matters, if things are, regardless of what we do or do not do, if life will take its destined path regardless of our actions—if those actions fit like puzzle pieces that illustrate step-by-step, how we get from here-to there—is meaning really the thing we should be after? Maybe, it instead, should have been our curiosity, our inquisitive nature, that we should have been fostering since the dawn of man, and not our supposed need for order. Maybe it is the awe of standing in the sun when a cool breeze passes, that calls us to do nothing but give pause and delight in the moment we are existing within, that should be our greater “meaning”.

To “contemplate this moment of existence, and rejoice that you are able to do so”. Because we have no other choice. Because this is what we have always been fated, to do.

[micropenisunveiled-blog]

How Having a Small Penis Messes With Men’s Minds     

I noticed my penis was one of the smaller in the bunch as a kid, when I used the communal showers after swimming, track and basketball practices. So for a long time public washing was strictly off limits—I'd rather drive home from the gym in my sweaty clothes and shower in the privacy of my own apartment.

My insecurities about his 3.3-inch erection affect more than just my hygiene habits. Condoms didn't stay on well, and that made sex more of an anxiety trip than it already was. In a recent bout of obsession, I gathered a "database" of scientific papers on penises and measured myself multiple times a day for several weeks to see how I sized up. Growing up, it shaped me socially, even when my pants were on. Because of teasing from my brothers and some team mates at school I became quite insecure.  I had an ongoing fear that I would never grow up, never become a man.  I feel that my low self-esteem, due to my size, was a main driver for this.  I did an interview with Michelle Malia, freelance reporter on November 3 2017 that was published in Tonic. 

I am reprinting the article here.

I suspect that lots of guys can relate to my story. It is part of why I started this website.

THE TONIC ARTICLE

Almost one in five American men are unhappy with the length of their erection, according to a recent study of more than 4,000 men, and another 15 percent have a problem with their girth. You won't be surprised to learn that the guys who thought their penises fell short had less sex than the penis-proud group. "Being small can be the heaviest of burdens. I'm genuinely afraid of everything and everybody alike," says David, 30. "I feel I just can't be truly sexually desirable to women with my size."

There's a lot of dick-shaming that perpetuates this idea. When Marco Rubio exposed Donald Trump's small hands, Trump felt the need to tell the whole country that his penis was perfectly fine, thanks. (On national television. During a presidential debate.) In a Fat Shack ad, a seductive blonde—lips parted, a trail of mustard dripping out of her mouth á la cum—holds a sandwich. "Four inches has never been so satisfying," the caption reads.

It goes beyond mainstream news and marketing and weasels its way into casual conversation. "A lot of the jokes we make in everyday life are often sexually related in one way or another," says Abraham Morgentaler, a urologist and the director of Men's Health Boston, whose practice focuses on the health effects of testosterone deficiency. "It's sort of standard humor for guys to josh each other about masculinity type stuff, including penis size."

Movies and television frequent take jabs at villains and characters by assaulting their masculinity.  No one would consider making fun of a man with one arm, or a blind individual.  When asked in a recent Bloomberg poll what bothered them most about Donald Trump voters picked one action above all others: when he mocked a reporter with a disability in November 2015.   But no one winces when someone makes fun of a man’s small penis.  Interesting!

Morgentaler calls men with dick fixations "peno-centric." The idea that the size of your junk validates you as a man might start as early as boyhood. "When we're younger and coming of age sexually, when there's a lack of sophistication about what it means, number one, to be a man, and number two to be a good lover, the thing that men can see and point to and certainly think about is really the penis," he says.

Boyhood is synonymous with inexperience, and sadly, we don't magically figure everything out as adults. Some guys may think they're small even when they're not, but for the ones who do fall left of the bell curve, the best way to get over it is by being realistic about what your penis "should" look like and how important it really is in the long term”, Morgentaler says.

Lots of people never have the chance to see other people having healthy, real-life sex, so they might base their expectations on the sex they do see, usually in porn. But—shocker—porn is not real life. Those macho men are more than well endowed and that can give off the wrong idea, that you need to sport an eight- or nine-inch shaft (also, ow—but we'll get to that later) to satisfy your sex partners.

"If a guy watches 50 or 100 of these video clips, he's going to feel inadequate because he may be smaller than every one of those," Morgentaler says. "But those men are extremely unusual." When researchers sifted through data on more than 15,000 men, they found that the average penis is 3.6 inches soft and 5.2 inches erect. Nothing like many of the massive dicks we see on our laptops.

On a purely biological level, it's also irrational to think size has anything to do with your baby-making skills. "If it matters from an evolutionary standpoint, the best question would be, does it increase fertility?" says Robert Martin, an evolutionary biologist and adjunct professor at the University of Chicago. "The testes size indicates the potential of producing sperm, but I don't see any connection between penis size and anything that would be important in evolutionary terms." There's no evidence that primates have ever used their penises as a power display, he adds, and it may even have little to no effect on how physically desirable you are as a man.

Australian researchers generated 343 life-size male figures that ranged in body shape, body height, and penis size. They projected these "men" on a screen and asked 105 heterosexual women to rate how sexually attractive they were. The women cared most about body shape, which was responsible for 79.6 percent of attractiveness. (They preferred a triangular torso with wide shoulders and narrow hips.) Height came next with 6.1 percent, and penis size fell by the wayside, accounting for only 5.1 percent of attractiveness. "It seems to be a male preoccupation," Martin says.

It's a preoccupation that can be debilitating. Andy, 24, has never heard complaints from sex partners about his 4.7-inch erection, but he still can't shake the feeling that he's coming up a half-inch short. "It lingers in my mind throughout the day on a regular basis," he says. "It causes great anxiety and depression most of the time." Andy started to notice he was smaller than average when he was 19. Like Jase, he also measures a lot. "There [have] been days when I find myself spending a huge amount of time with a ruler next to my penis."

When he's naked in front of sex partners, he often tries to cut through the awkwardness of the initial reveal by being self-deprecating—"It's small, huh?"—but nobody has ever complained or agreed.

It's not crazy that Andy's partners aren't throwing him shade. When it's part of the equation, the penis is an important part of sex—whether it's the real thing or the dildo equivalent. But it's not everything. "How we talk and behave in bed, how we touch, these are all important parts of what makes for good sex," Morgentaler says. "The hands and the mouth and the lips are all part of that. The penis is just one part of the repertoire."

Bigger is not always better, and that goes for anal, too. Research in the Journal of Sexual Medicine found that 72 percent of women and 15 percent of men feel pain during anal sex. In another study, 76 percent of bottoms reported pain during anal, and for 23 percent of those guys, it was worse than mild.

Not to mention more than a third of women need clitoral stimulation, not penetration, to reach orgasm.

Jace told us that he wonders if he was born bisexual, or if his life experiences led him to exploring sexuality with men, specifically because of his fear of intimacy with women after bad experiences.  In his relationships with women he told us that he had used large strap-ons, penis extenders, and sex toys of all kinds before he finally figured out all women need is need is clitoral stimulation to reach her oh-my-god moments. Now I helps her plateau using the basics: his mouth and, sometimes, a vibrator.  In his relations with men Jace told us that he is exclusively a bottom, and has come to prefer orgasms through prostate stimulation. 

Jace has three decades of life in the books, he's been married and in a long term dom/sub relationship with another man—that's a lot of time to figure out what is and isn't important in your relationships and sex life. Younger guys might need to live a little more before they figure that out. "Every time I hear stories about guys my age hooking up and having one-night stands and even being in relationships, it gets to me because I know I can't ever do any of those [things] because of my size," Andy says.

The peno-centric approach can keep you from engaging with others in all sorts of ways, whether fully clothed or bare-ass naked. Morgentaler recently saw a patient who was worried that he wasn't "developed" down there—despite his junk being "completely normal," Morgentaler says—and because of that, he was still a virgin.

Jace doesn't get regular checkups anymore, because at his last visit the doctor brought in several interns including a young woman to check him for a hernia. "I really thought that I was going to die of embarrassment right in the doctor's office," he says.

David doesn't like swimming or going to the beach because he feels exposed. "I can say with all my heart, I'd be way more happy and have a better life if I had a normal penis," he says.

It might seem like a huge deal when it comes to first-time hookups or one-night stands, but in the longer term, your penis does not take top priority. Most aspects of a relationship have nothing to do with what's in your pants—compatibility, mutual respect, and sense of humor, to name a few. Good sex is also high up there in importance, but using your penis is just one way to satisfy your partner, and it's naive to prioritize size over everything else.

"I would emphasize that this problem often goes away when a guy ends up in a stable relationship, because the couple figures out what they do that works, and penis size is usually not an impediment," Morgentaler says. "The quality of the man is not dependent on the size of his penis."

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

More women are running for president than ever. But there’s no one way to do it. This is the first in a series exploring the way that the women candidates in the 2020 race are navigating questions of identity, sexism and public critique.

“I fully intend to win this election” is the kind of line that seems a bit redundant coming from a person running for president.

But when Sen. Kamala Harris said it only a minute or so into her stump speech in Keene, New Hampshire, in late April, it felt like a polite retort to the question of whether she would be “electable” in a head-to-head contest against President Trump. America hasn’t seen too many women run for president, let alone a mixed-race woman, and Harris finds herself dealing with a powerful political irritant: answering the incessant question of whether the nation is ready for a president “like” her.

For months, polls have found that Democratic primary voters value a candidate’s ability to beat Trump regardless of whether they share that candidate’s ideology. And polls have found that former Vice President Joe Biden is perceived as having the best chance to beat Trump, even among those who don’t support Biden’s candidacy. Harris has remained in the top tier of candidates, with strong fundraising and decent small donor contributions, and her standing in the polls has remained steady. Since Trump was elected, though, narratives in the popular media have focused on the idea that Democrats must win back the Obama-Trump voter, giving outsize attention to white, male candidates. In such an environment, Harris’s race and gender are eyed as both a prize — another candidate could try to leverage her identity by naming Harris as his running mate, trying to capture the large number of black and brown women who tend to vote for Democrats — and a liability.

The 2020 race is not the first time that Harris has had to confront the “electability” question. And she’s responding to it now as she ever has: by emphasizing her policy and career bona fides above all else.

Identity is a well-worn line of questioning for Harris, and she sometimes seems to have little patience for overly personal tangents about her personal travails as a mixed-race woman in America.

In a 2017 interview with Harris, David Axelrod, a former adviser to President Barack Obama, interjected as the newly elected senator talked about her decision to become a prosecutor: “I want to get to that and your career in the law, but I just want to hear a little more about your folks and about the sort of cross-cultural upbringing and how that helped shape you,” he said, referring to Harris’s mother, who was Indian, and her father, who is Jamaican. Harris replied:

Well, you know, it’s funny, David. … But in my career, when I was district attorney of San Francisco, attorney general of California and even now as a United States senator, in each position, I was ‘the first.’ And in particular when I was DA and AG, reporters would come up to me and ask me this really original question, put a microphone in front of my face: ‘So what’s it like to be the first woman — fill in the blank, DA, AG. And I’d look at them not knowing how to answer that question, and I would tell them, ‘I really don’t know how to answer that question because, you see, I’ve always been a woman, but I’m sure a man could do the job just as well.’

You can almost see the trademark narrowing of Harris’s eyes in her answer. Her take on the personal as political often manifests itself as a recitation of past accomplishments and future plans rather than a fixation on her autobiography. Harris wants you to know she’s a doer, not a dweller. Her autobiography, “The Truths We Hold,” dispenses with the retelling of her childhood, adolescence and college years in a matter of 24 pages. The book is more the story of a career, albeit a remarkable one. It is very much a vehicle for introducing Harris’s policy thinking and her pristine résumé. Even the affecting words she writes about her mother’s death and legacy are relatively sparse — she pivots rather quickly to the problems of the American health care system, the opioid crisis and racial disparities in patient care.

When Harris ran for attorney general in California, she confronted some of the same electability questions she’s being forced to respond to in her 2020 presidential campaign.

Al Seib / Los Angeles Times via Getty Images

Longtime friend Debbie Mesloh, who worked with Harris during her time as district attorney and on her Senate campaign, said Harris’s identity as a woman and a woman of color manifests itself most clearly in how she has approached policymaking on the job. “I’ve been with her in rooms where she’s the only person of color advocating policies that look completely different from what everyone else in that room has known,” Mesloh told me. She recalled that one of the first things Harris did when she became San Francisco’s first female district attorney was instruct her team to stop the use of the term “teenage prostitute,” as a way to talk more empathetically about girls who were often victims of human trafficking. (Harris pursued reforms to human trafficking prosecutions during her time as California attorney general.) In May, Harris’s campaign announced a policy proposal for pay parity that would ask companies, rather than individual complainants, to report pay disparities between the genders

“She grew up in this environment where, yes, you’re a woman of color, you’ve had this unique experience — then therefore, what?” Mesloh said. “What is that going to mean for what you say you want to do?”

That Harris doesn’t put her personal experiences front and center runs somewhat counter to the American public’s desire to know as much as possible about the lives of women, famous and otherwise. The how-she-gets-it-done genre is crowded, and some women politicians like U.S. Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez have used social media to give constituents — and everyone else — glimpses into their everyday lives. Even Hillary Clinton’s campaign started a podcast, presumably as a way to everywoman its extremely famous candidate.

“I’ve spent a lot of time with Kamala,” Jim Stearns, the campaign manager for her two district attorney races, told me, adding that she was a warm presence and “down to earth.” But, he said, “I never knew anything about her private life.” In her first campaign to be district attorney, Harris was running as the first woman of color for the position. “She usually frames things within issues, so it’s not necessarily about herself,” Stearns said. The campaign manager for her attorney general races, Brian Brokaw, said much the same thing. “Her identity is her identity, but that’s not how she runs,” he said. “She wants to be judged for what she believes in and what she’s done.”

The “electability” question that Harris now faces — a dubiously framed debate in the eyes of some — is also one that dogged her in her early California races. Brokaw said that during Harris’s 2010 attorney general campaign, skepticism around her candidacy came even from friendly corners. “I remember having a conversation with someone I won’t name, but at the time, he was a prominent state legislator, and he said, ‘I like Harris, I think she’s a great DA, and she’s got a bright future, but I don’t think she can win because I agree with her too much.’ And the point he was making was as a progressive himself, there was no way that someone who was a black woman from San Francisco with a progressive record could win a job in California that had been held entirely by white men for the history of the state of California.” Harris would go on to beat Republican Steve Cooley in a close race, but only after Cooley declared victory on election night. He conceded weeks later.

In Harris’s current race, her foil is the front-runner, Biden. He hadn’t yet gotten into the race when I saw Harris in New Hampshire, but his smiling face was on the cover of Time magazine when I popped into a drugstore. Harris has chafed against Biden’s pitch that he can win back so-called Obama-Trump voters. “There has been a conversation by pundits about ‘electability’ and ‘who can speak to the Midwest,’” she told a crowd at an NAACP event in Detroit recently. “But when they say that, they usually put the Midwest in a simplistic box and a narrow narrative. And too often, their definition of the Midwest leaves people out. It leaves out people in this room who helped build cities like Detroit. It leaves out working women who are on their feet all day, many of them working without equal pay.”

Harris’s path to the White House hinges on her ability to increase turnout of core Democratic constituencies in places lost by Democrats in 2016. Black turnout fell across the board in the last presidential election, including in key areas of “blue wall” states like Michigan with high black populations. That Harris is a mixed-race woman could, allies argue, be her greatest electoral strength, not a weakness. “This moment in time when we really see, especially within the Democratic Party, people looking at and seeing the power of black women,” Mesloh said, “has probably been the first time that there’s really been that recognition.”

In Keene, people seemed cautiously optimistic about Harris. Donna Doherty told me that she agreed with everything Harris had to say. “My only fear is that I think some people in our country aren’t ready to vote for a woman,” she said. Doherty’s friend, Sandy Thibodeau, was similarly complimentary: “She speaks very well, she’s very calm. A woman, unfortunately, needs to be.”

While Harris spoke, I found myself at pains to notice how voters reacted to her. People tended to call her “Kamala” rather than “senator” when they addressed her, but I couldn’t detect much else that was radically different from any other event in a far-too-long presidential campaign. At one point, in the middle of her stumping, I caught sight of Harris’s husband, Douglas Emhoff, who had slipped into the back of the crowd. He shook his head in disbelief as she called out some gun control policies as too lax in one part of the speech and then looked around to see how others had reacted. For a moment, I was struck by how strange it must be to see a room full of people size up your spouse. And watching us — voters, journalists — watch her seemed as apt a metaphor as any for modern “electability” politics, 2020 included. The chief concern seems not to be personal belief, but concern for the personal beliefs of others: “some people in our country aren’t ready to vote for a woman”; “I don’t think she can win because I agree with her too much.”

Harris, for one, seemed confident when she stopped to say hello to a little old lady on the way out of the event: “It’s not going to be easy, but we’re going to win.”

[therecklessseeking-blog]

June 25, 2018  Funnel Chasing in Iowa

I woke up super early one Monday morning. By super early I mean 8 am, because I’m normally sleeping until noon or later easily. For some reason, the night before I was able to pass out in time for me to be well-rested.

The trip that day was a split-moment decision. I remember lying in bed cycling through the morning ritualized web pages- weather.org, the SPC, weather.us and then over to my favorite radar app to see what was currently underway.

What I saw was that nice yellow bubble at the top of Missouri into Iowa with a 5% chance of tornadoes, but for some reason I wasn’t actually in the mood to drive out that far. I have a desperation to teleport sometimes. I like road trips. I like being far away. I like the freedom that comes with tourism, and the lack of true obligation. God, are the usual routes boring though. You can only travel on 70 so many times before you’re numbed to the usual array of fields and impatient drivers.

I knew that I was leaving for somewhere though, and I get out of the house by 845 am. It wasn’t a bad turn around to get up, dressed and packed within 45 minutes. My hallmark is indecision, and that can waste a lot of my time.

What was eating at me though was exactly where to go. Sure, there was that nice spot to the north, but the soaring index on weather.us also hinted at the vast amount of severe storms that would move northeast across the Ozarks straight to my county. And the timing suggested that I could explore cave-ridden and creek-laden areas for a few hours before they really started to develop.

As I traveled further and further west down 70, I knew that I would have to make a decision- and to be honest, for some reason I was really fixated on what all the data was saying about the southern routes I had in mind. Places like Sedalia and back roads to the southwest. Plus, since the storms would develop within Kansas and move east, it would be a longer chase. A chase that followed me.

There was a lot of anxiety surrounding that decision though. At the last minute, I kept asking the universe to synchronize some sign into my life. And oddly enough, it appeared in the clouds itself. They hung low, and moved north. I saw the curls I like to see, and one cloud curled itself right into an arrow. North it is.

But f*** driving all that way into Kansas City. I hate city driving, and Kansas City is one of the worst I’ve ever been to yet. I feared more wasted time just based off the inevitable urban traffic.

I’d been looking at the radar every 20 to 30 minutes and I noticed that the low pressure system sitting over Nebraska had already spawned some storms moving up interstates 29 and 35 around St. Joseph, which was another hour and a half away from me. I’ll admit I wasted quite a bit of time getting food, getting lost on the way to food, and then-having a bit of that anxiety earlier -taking a bit too long staring at the radar at one or two exits to decide what I was doing. Oh well.

I figured that I’d make it to MO-13 and go north from there. It’s an older highway, and it goes through some towns you can tell have been raised and broken down in history. This included Lexington, stage of a huge battle during the civil war. The long, rolling fields were stunning. And time consuming. I still had the paranoia that I was driving farther and farther from home on a weak whim. At least everyone was speeding.

I knew that taking MO-13 far enough would lead me to Interstate 35, but apparently that road has been closed for a while just beyond Hamilton, so I decided to sit behind a Dollar General for a second and check out a map. US-36 west would solve that issue immediately, and save me a lot of time. Meanwhile, I get a notification on my phone that the storm chaser/patreon I follow, Pecos Hank, was also aiming for that slight risk zone. Based on the clouds I’d seen coming up 13 off to my west, and the winds in my favorite app, I felt an increasing confidence in my decision of North vs South, and I race on. I reach Interstate 35 by 1:20 pm.

Now, I don’t normally recommend speeding at all. I’m a 5-over-the-limit type of person any other time. But as I’m looking at both the radar and the sky more and more on the approach, I realize that the show is setting up. There’s a bit of convection to the east and west of me. They all just looked like heavy rain so far, but my anxiety was increasing. There was an active range of over 70-90 miles easily, with some storms steadily popping up and moving quickly in the east right over Princeton Mo, and then of course the storms that had already been active near the Kansas/Nebraska border much closer to the low pressure system.

Just before 3 pm, I’ve reached Eagleville MO and jump off the highway to look at the radar. There's a new wave of convection to the south of me, filling in the rainless middle ground and heading north towards me. What I also notice is an organized line of storms approaching the Missouri river heading northeast. I’m near the convergence zone of these storms, and that’s exactly what I’m looking for.

Quickly, I choose a few roads to work their magic. North on US-69, west on MO-46, and not a car in sight I ride the hills to view the horizons bringing me the results. On a bend of 46, I manage to find a nice little hill to take a picture or two and check out any sheer in the clouds.

I still had just under an hour left though. The line to the west was moving much faster than the individual cells to the south and I could just barely make them out on the horizon, so my goal is to move more slowly to the converging point and stake out various places to watch the clouds set themselves up.

Hatfield showed some promise. Just a few houses, some of them abandoned:

There’s a natural area an eighth of a mile south of Hatfield called Pawnee Prairie that did the trick. The parking area was a nice clear overlook on top of a treeless hill, with a few farmers fields surrounding the area. Google says I sat there for close to 30 minutes as I watched the cells approach me. My camera failed to record like I asked it to, but what I noticed was the signs of low pressure. Low hanging clouds rush in west ahead of the storms, as if they gravitated to something else. With all precipitation on the radar heading either north or northeast, there was definitely something hidden happening in the sky. I abandon Pawnee Prairie and continue west down 46, stopping to find a field or two to take more pictures

15 miles away, my actual target was around Grant City MO. The line I’d spotted earlier was only growing stronger and closing in, and it was a race to find a suitable space for viewing. Suitable here means “tall, clear hill with a drive-able road and space to pull off to the side.” None of which is ever guaranteed nor marked with a sign, and as I close in on Grant City, I realize just how close that storm in getting and just how massive that storm became.

I still had no real intention on running into Iowa just yet though. The storms were only yet to arrive and something screamed “STAY!” Turning north onto US-169 I spotted the one road that would be suitable for my needs. North Lyon St (CR 286) is a dirt road springing off the top of Grant City, and right on top of the very hill that originally blocked the westward view from 169. It overlooked a large amount of the western fields, and although quite a bit of the southern sky was blocked by trees, I managed to get nearly 20 minutes of video of the wall cloud and heavily developing rain on the front end of the storm.

The thing was, while I spent so much time looking off to the west, I never moved myself to see what was to the south edge of the system. I had my prize view and signs of very minor rotation, and when I get that much, moving is paranoia. As the rain began falling over me my video quality was dropping, with auto-focus fixated on the droplets on my window. That’s when I checked radar.

Oddly enough, just south of me, a little hook echo had been forming, and I’m off speeding again. Trying to avoid the holes of this little dirt road in the rain was a challenge enough, but keeping my head clear as I race back south down 169 into Grant City was another challenge. I backed into someone’s driveway across from the second Dollar General of the day and began recording what eventually would form into the funnel I had been waiting for.

Now this video is a compilation of the whole event- from suitable hill to the chase it lead me on straight into Iowa up US-169. If you want the most interesting parts only, I guess my advice is to skip ahead 5 minutes

I’ll admit that parts of the audio are cut out to make it family friendly. When the funnel was forming straight ahead of me, there was still this vague aura of control over the situation. I had a southern escape route right across the street, and for a while, I felt not fear but exhilaration and joy. To think I could have missed the opportunity by going to Sedalia, right?

Any way, what I figured out was I’m completely silent until I repetitively cuss myself out for about 5 minutes in totality. No offense to myself, but what I realized after it passed over me and headed towards the hill was that it might really drop- in which case, I know better. That thing could have thrown any part of those trees at me. I had the legitimate warning of every storm chaser and meteorologist spinning around me faster than the funnel. While it’s great to have video of a tornado, it’s just stupid to film yourself getting hit by one.

I stalk it up 169, cross the Iowa border, and she’s still rotating nicely. I’m trying to find some sort of country road that would let me see over all the bad hill-and-tree combos. I started to understand why chasing in Iowa was such a tease. It’s beautiful, and the twisters are willing to twist but they play “The Floor is Lava” better. It was probably all the hills causing that.

While there are definitely less trees than my part of Missouri and the Ozarks south, man are all the views sporadic. I found myself leaving 169 for a few minutes when I’d found a hill, realizing that the storm was progressing too far ahead of me, and then racing back to catch the ground I lost.

It was also these hills that let me realize this rotation was dying.

Everything’s just started though, and I’m getting a bit scrambled trying to trace where the rotation is trying to head off to while not getting caught in some downpour. There’s just something about the middle of nowhere that makes phones slower and vague and while I’d bought a road map book of everywhere I could possibly end up that day, unless I had some sort of radar on the top of my car strictly to run my own data, I’m running the majority of this chase on finding hills for views and then routes to get over there.

That’s pretty much were I detoured the wrong way- watching the sky too much and missing a turn that would have landed me in the dense rain that popped up to my east. Instead, my stubborn self caught the most vivid rainbow I’ve ever witnessed- on a route that led me on a scenic view of a town that had no good road to the main roads I was aiming for. I’m left with a phone camera that couldn’t necessary capture how grand it was, but I’ll always remember it.

Looking back, it was sort of a mixed blessing to view the storms at such a distance. I was never really caught in any rain, but the hesitancy I had to really approach from the main paved roads caused me to lose track of it. The problem was that the main highways ran straight into any cells path moving north, and these elongated monsters moved fast and heavy. Any parallel path I found though was slippery (dirt and water don’t let you move any faster than 40 miles per hour either) and always carried the greater risk of concealing the horizon behind trees.

I did manage to find a few hills that made me realize just how much rotation a slight risk area can involve. Looking across the valleys around me, I spotted at least three wall clouds either rotating or forming around me. Two belonged to the same elongated cell maybe a good 5 miles to the east that had dumped so much rain in front of me earlier on.

There it was again- that overwhelming need to teleport. The anxiety only increased with an overwhelming need to be everywhere at once too. Complete storm omniscience is all I was really asking for. It's so toxic that it's hard to make decisions, and made me increasingly impatient with myself to get going. I appreciate the view, but I always realize that I fall behind. Soon I'll lose the storms to the same hills and back roads I vouch for.

It's easier to just post a map outlining the route rather than explaining it, because I elected a ton of back roads filled with charming old buildings that only served to keep me out of the action, but still in view of something happening.

As I got closer to Des Moines, I realized two things:

A) Nighttime was approaching within the hour, and I didn't have the best camera for all the amazing lightning happening, nor would I be able to see any rain or tornadoes approaching me on my drive home B) My cell phone only has so much memory, AND I've literally filled it all with clouds and cat pictures. Not to mention several 10-13 minute long videos of rotation from this and previous chases. This phone brand doesn't even contain bloatware either, so I've definitely outdone myself.

Yet I still record

I find an exit off of interstate 35 just a few miles south of Des Moines to sit and stare over the clearest horizon I've found yet. I'm refusing to give up the fight. I start to delete selfies, apps, games- anything for just a bit of memory. I start spamming my snapchat story with videos knowing that I'd have 24 hours to download anything I uploaded. All for one of the greatest sunsets I've seen yet, and a lot of SLCs (too bad my snapchat segregated the videos into fragments).

What I was most upset about was the phone thing. Nighttime storms are my favorite, and because night is the exact time that most severe storms roll through my area I was accustomed to chasing them more. This time I'd be left with nothing to show, nothing to save. The clouds glowed with rapid fire. I could tell with the intensity of each strike, these storms still had quite a while before they decided to retire, and I begrudgingly begin to drag myself down the highway home. It'll take me 5 hours- if I don't stop.

For a while I have to. Just a few miles out of Des Moines, I thought these tornadoes were coming for me anyway. There were still warnings active of course. There had been for a few hours. But I realized with the downpour, the radar, the split second views of scud to the north, and the fierce power of the wind under my car that I might very well have been in the draft suctioning into the storm. The rain fell sideways. In fact, it wasn't even falling. I stopped at a Casey's and even being under the shelter at the furthest point the rain could enter from, I was still absolutely soaked getting a literal seven dollars worth of gas. I gave up.

As I carry on, maybe an hour out, the sky is clearing, and I see the cloud tops of numbed cumulonimbus under a full moon and the active ones still firing off to the north. Dreamy, I think. Absolutely dreamy. I'd pull off to gawk, but something tells me the highway patrol won't like it too much with a “DO NOT PICK UP HITCHHIKERS” sign posted nearby.

Thanks for reading.