#i too love its continuity or rather lack thereof

[stsgooo]

moonlit goddess.... maybe jinshi is wondering why his dear maid continues to pull away from him... and maybe gao shun lets it slip that "they shouldn't have been close that day anyway".... and jinshi pesters him until he folds n explains.... IDK I JUST WANT A HAPPY ENDING FOR THOSE TWO :((((( (not forced ofc!! i jus love ur writing!)

Bridge the Gap.

✩࿐ summary: life and death really makes a girl wonder.

warning(s): idiots in love, chapters 61-65 manga spoilers, master/servant like relationship, description of near drowning, suggestive content, ambiguous ending. wc; 9.3k

pairing(s): jinshi/fem!reader.

a/n: tysm for reading my fics means the world to hear ppl actually enjoy them, anon!!! ;') i wasn't really going to make a 2nd part of moonlight goddess as i thought it was okay to leave off there, but i love jinshi sooo i'll take any excuse to write him. this was initially going to be a part 2 of clumsiness, but i figured my plans worked better with what you were envisioning! im not entirely sure how to feel about this, but i hope this lives up to the standards! i apologize for any mistakes, this was written mostly in the early mornings when i had time!

part i. m.list

"Are you sure I'm not hurting you?"

"Y/N, please, stop asking me that."

"Oh, yes. My apologies, Jinshi-sama. Sorry."

This were, admittedly, not going well. Both of you soaked, hair dripping, and standing in the cave behind a rapid waterfall, and a dull ache in your chest as you recovered. Partly your fault, partly the fault of some crazed marksman that was hiding in the forest, trying to slaughter Jinshi and, by proxy, you.

To understand how you two ended up in this situation, we would have to back up a bit.

"Oh? Y/N, I didn't know you'd be attending this as well?"

"It was a last minute switch with Suiren and I."

"You... enjoy these hunts?"

"I've done everything I could to avoid them in the years past."

Your lack of excitement was apparent and clear. It appeared to bring no ease of mind to Maomao who dragged her rather disgusted eyes from you towards Gaoshun. The older man just kept his attention on the moving scenery outside, a distant glaze over his eyes.

Maomao obviously wasn't optimistic. Just like you. You were almost proud that she had caught on so easily.

The sweltering heat outside seemed to seep into the carriage, cooking you alive in your rather formal wear. Something that you were spotted in far and few, having been years that you truly cleaned yourself prim and proper. You had been on the edge of declining even going when Jinshi, with a grin and a certain glitter in his eyes, had too happily informed you that it was a direct invitation from Shishou.

Your fate had been sealed.

Maomao peeked at you from the corner of her eye, head tilted, "Do you mind me asking why you avoided these events?"

You don't even spare her a glance, "I fear if I spoke my honest opinion, I'd stain Jinshi-sama's reputable name with my foul mouth." You reply flatly in return.

"Please don't." Gaoshun said softly from his seat, looking particularly tired.

You decided to ignore the slump of Maomao's shoulders as if disappointed by the swift interruption and decline on Gaoshun's part. Turning your eyes towards the shifting world outside.

It'd been exactly five months since Jinshi had danced under the moon and you came to the conclusion that any impure thoughts you held for your master would be safely tucked away in the back of your mind (and heart). Forever your secret. Only to be heard in your dreams and upon your death, when you repent for any ill thoughts to the Great Man above.

Everything had returned to its normal routine. You would get up in the morning, prepare breakfast alongside Suiren, eat, then proceed with any chores the woman gave you for the rest of the day, then repeat. Equally, your relationship (or lack thereof) with Jinshi had remained the same. Conversations filled with pleasantries. Simple things that had always lingered between the two of you since you were children. Pleasant and simple. As the world shall ever be.

It got a bit ruffled with Jinshi had cornered you and practically ordered that you come to the hunt instead of Suiren.

In the middle of scrubbing away at the floors, he had found you. Stood above you with that grin, “Y/N, you’re one of my most loyal servants, hm?” He’d begun with an inflection in his tone that made you horribly hesitant.

You had faltered in your scrubbing to stare up at him with confusion, “Uh…well, I suppose, Jinshi-sam’s.”

“Why don’t you join me for the Hunt this up coming week?”

Your had heart dropped. And, by the look Gaoshun had dawned, his had too. The Hunt, in your humble opinion, was a glorified weekend for the men in high positions to rub one off while killing animals. It wasn’t something you found interesting in or much grace. That’s why you had declined Suiren’s question on whether or not you’d like to take her place only three days prior. You had no interest in watching anyone, even Jinshi, size each other up while a defenseless animal bled.

“Jinshi-sama, I believe Suiren—“

Ever the gentleman, he had cut you off, “No worries, Suiren agreed to take over matters while you’re gone! She’s the sweetest, right?” He had appeared all to eager and all too himself for you to ignore.

So, with a heavy heart, you’d sighed, accepting defeat and his invitation.

Now, you would find your torture for a multiple day retreat with a bunch of men with their c—

The carriage came to an abrupt halt, bringing an unruly end to your thoughts as you all carefully exited and were greeted by the sunshine. The humid air heavy with the condensation of the area and already making a sweat appear on your brow. But, ever the lady, you pleasantly tuck your hands into your sleeves and follow behind Gaoshun and Basen.

You were a little surprised as Maomao stuck closely to your side; but not all too surprised to find her attention on your surroundings, vague surprise in her eyes. The area was as equally as beautiful as it was a burden to you.

The buildings weren't anything for you to revel at. Spending an entire lifetime within palaces and in buildings as equally or above standard to those, it just wasn't anything special. The nature surrounding the area, however, was something to stare in awe at. Lucious trees, beautiful grass, and beautiful array of plants and flowers. It almost made you regret all the time you had spent away from this place.

But it wasn't like you had the chance to truly return since the last time you were here. Nothing could bring back that little girl.

You deterred your thoughts away as Gaoshun slid the door open. Immediately, you were hit with a wave of heat that you made you tense up. It was apparent that you wouldn't find your much needed cool down you were desperate to find since you were confined in the carriage days prior.

You were the last to enter and when you did, you faltered at the sight before you.

Jinshi was sprawled across the couch, wisps of his dark hair framed his sweat glistened face, eyes closed in contempt. A small dent appeared between his eyebrows and a frown adorned his face. However, your attention was caught on a drop of sweat that made its way from his hairline, down his cheek, his jaw, his long slender neck, and past his— his collar.

His modesty was of no worry, apparently, as he laid with his robes parted open to reveal his chest. Itself was glistening with sweat. Delicate skin on showcase for all to see. It brought a soft blush to your cheeks, as you blatantly ogled him. Pressing your lips together to contain whatever thoughts you had about him from burst from your seams.

"Y/N," Jinshi's voice hit your ears, tender and smooth. You're suddenly hyperaware that he's staring at you with raised brows, lids peeked open to stare at you.

You straighten your back and offer a bow, "Jinshi-sama. Do you require anything?" You had to get it together. It was inappropriate to behave in such a scandalous way. "Request for ice? Tea?"

Jinshi shook his head, sitting up, "No, rather I'd like for you to rest after such a long journey."

You falter, your arms wavering from their position in front of your face, "Uh.... Wouldn't the room be more tolerable with some ice?" You spare a glance around the room and grimace. The windows are shut tight, only bits of sun peeking through the cracks. Basen looks rather miserable, but trying to appear his usual stern self. While Gaoshun and Maomao seem rather okay with showcasing their small discontent with the heat. A nice cube would help at least cool down a bit.

You also couldn't stand another second seeing Jinshi like that. As if he were some type of nymph testing your faith.

"Really, it's fine—" Jinshi attempted, but you were already turning on your heel.

"I will return with ice." You didn't miss the way Jinshi's face fell and his eyes cut to Gaoshun who shook his head in return.

Your fast paced adventure led you to the main hall, where people were moving in and out. Various officers and servants filled the area, finding their rooms or helping their masters and fellow officers to their own rooms. Everyone appeared to be feeling the heat as they wiped their brows. Much like you, they appeared to be attempting to defeat the heat.

You found your way towards an attendant who helped you get something situated for Kousen. Something that brought you both distaste and irritation. Something to be addressed at a later time.

Joy filled you as you turned around, ice would soon be in the room and you could crowd around it like it was a new lover.

As you were about to make your way back to the room, you ran into someone.

You were about to apologize when they whirled around and you let out an audibly sigh that conveyed your unwavering exhaustion for them.

"Hey, watch where— Oh, hey, " Lihaku blinked, kind face twisted up in vague recognition. “You’re that lady-in-waiting. What are you doing out here?”

“I’m on loan from Jinshi-sama,” you answered rather flatly, not missing the small frown accompanying the man’s face.

You were vaguely familiar with Lihaku. What with Maomao getting involved in the problems within the inner and rear palace, you were bound to make new acquaintances when she was dragging you around. Lihaku was the first one you had ran into. On orders to accompany the girl from Suiren, you had gotten to see her investigative skills firsthand. You were impressed, surely, when she had made the discovery about the potatoes. But the impression was overshadowed by Lihaku, who had spent the entire time chatting your ear off.

He was kind, handsome, and smart when it called for it. But you could tell that, like most officers, he had an airheaded vibe to him. One that deterred you from making things too complicated with him.

Friendly enough, and one of the few people that didn't seem to disinterest Maomao, you accepted his very vague and shadowed feature in your life.

"Well, that's nice of him." He said, clearly disinterested in where this conversation was going. "I'm glad to see a friendly face, though."

You offered a small smile, "As am I. Not many kind faces around here often."

"You can say that again." You hear a loud inhuman snort and a tug on your gown, taking a large step back, you look down. A large dog with drool leaking out from the sides of its mouth stared back at you. "Oh, hey, boy, no!"

"O-Oh my." You uttered, slightly breathless as you looked at the large beast.

Lihaku glanced at you, offering a withering smile, "Eh, sorry, he gets excited around new people— not a great trait in a dog like this, you would think, but he's a real gem. Just has his moments. Hey, now—"

Lihaku pulled out something metal and brought it to his lips, then blew. It emitted little to no sound, at least, any you could truly hear, making your perk up when the dog tilted his head and sat respectfully before the officer. He blew again and the dog laid. Again, and the dog stood on all fours.

You smiled softly, watching in wonder as it obeyed whatever silent orders it was getting from Lihaku.

"He's very smart." You observed as the dog sat down again.

"Right?" Lihaku beamed, "I can get him to come running from kilometers away if need be."

"Useful when you're in a bind."

"For sure!" Lihaku's demeanor reminded you of a proud father as he puffed his chest and looked distastefully towards the cages lined up outside. "He's real smart, yet they still want to use those birds in the end."

You didn't want to point out the various problems that could come with using a dog; as there were probably another list of various pros to actually use the dog. The hawks had been used for years and you doubt that some dogs would be taking their place any time soon. It'd probably be a long time before these arrogant men came to their senses and found better means. Despite dogs being loyal and determined to their cause, the hawk would always be chosen.

Or, the better alternative, they didn't do this hunt anymore.

But you knew that was a longshot.

It wasn't long after that you bid Lihaku a farewell and good luck on his duties, making your way back to the room. You exchanged pleasant smiles and greetings with familiar faces, but nothing that kept you from relaxing much longer.

When you returned to the room, everyone had found their own areas and activities to occupy themselves. Gaoshun and Basen were playing Go near the windows, Maomao was reclining on the floor where a sliver or air was flowing through (from where, you weren't completely sure). Jinshi was back to sitting on the couch, a book in his hands. Something that was quickly disregarded as you gently closed the door behind you.

"The ice should be up soon." You informed the room with a respectful bow.

Jinshi didn't look at all interested, "What took you so long?" It sounded like contempt. Irritation if you had to really dig. Something that made you falter.

You look up and see the pout on his lips— childish, as always. "Oh, I'm sorry, Jinshi-sama. I happened to run into a friend and got caught up in conversation." You apologized softly. The last thing you wanted to do was bring him more annoyance and disturbance.

He straightened considerably, "A friend?"

You didn't like the way it was spoken. A touch of disbelief was enough for you to eye him with your own distaste. Even if you and Lihaku were nothing more than strangers with vague familiarity with one another.

"Yes, a friend." You confirmed with thin lips. Despite your inner voice telling you to reign in your attitude, you upturn your nose and decide to join Maomao— whose eyes were shooting between the both of you with trepidation and vague sympathy. "He was being kind."

Jinshi huffed, "I didn't know you had any secret friends."

"Not a secret. Just don't find any time to speak about it with you, Jinshi-sama."

That made the man falter, a darkened shadow over his face. "I suppose." He frowned heavily now, squinting at you with something unreadable. "Who is this friend of yours?"

You, finding no reason to lie, continued on, "Officer Lihaku."

In an instant, three heads snapped to you with varying degrees of emotions. Maomao looked shocked, but welcomed the information with a shrug. Gaoshun looked pale and overwrought, for whatever reason you weren't entirely sure, but you had an itching feeling it had to do with Jinshi.

The same Jinshi that was now face down on the couch, letting out a miserable sound. Speaking into the fabric of it all, unintelligiable. But you swore you heard something along the lines of— "that second rate, again?!" As he continued to rant and cry.

With that, you decided it best to not involve yourself with whatever Jinshi was battling. You wouldn't win anyway.

You'd always hated Kousen-sama.

He almost always seemed to loom in the shadows. An masked man who held no personality or words of his own. Pleasantries offered out of necessity and not because that was simply the right thing to do. He was mysterious. He hardly appeared, but he was always there. A reminder for what things would return to one odd day. A symbol for exactly where your loyalties and master lied.

Kousen-sama was to always appear before others with his mask on. To avoid them seeing the ghastly sight of scars and blemishes that adorned his skin because of his sickness (whatever that may be) and spare him the indecency of stares. He was unmoving. Stone amongst he lively environment that ate away at their lunches and softly conversed with one another.

Prince. The respectable Kousen-sama. The great son of the empire. The brave prince against all odds.

Oh, how much you hate Kousen-sama.

But you still had woken up early to help him pin his hair back. To slip his robes on. To delicately place the mask on, fingering the bangs out through the slits to allow some type of familiarity. You were his confidant. His reliable and kind servant.

As always, you and Basen stood behind Kousen-sama with your backs straight and eyes ahead. A pleasant servant on loan and stern guard, you both were familiar faces against the unrecognizable figure in front of you. It reminded the people exactly who was before them. Exactly who had decided to grace their presence.

Still, it brought you discomfort.

You still eyed Gaoshun in the corner of you eye. The older man sat at the other end of the table. Maomao standing behind him with a distant look in her eyes, obviously not paying attention to the things happening around her. Not entirely surprising, but you felt the overwhelming urge to scold her for her lack in etiquette.

Oh, you're starting to think like Suiren, aren't you?

Suddenly, Basen is tensing up beside you and Kousen-sama is turning his head away from a scowling Shishou. Your eyes snap between the two with a scowl of your own. Whatever that man had said—

Kousen-sama's hand clenches. So tightly that his knuckles turn white and he shakes. You know something isn't right. You had missed something. Something so obvious and you were too concerned about Gaoshun.

The man stands from his chair, the legs loudly clattering against the tiled and stone floor. You watch uneasily as Kousen-sama raises, takes a moment to collect himself, then practically speeds away from the room. You don't waste a moment to bring your sleeve covered hands to your mouth and make your own exit.

As you pass a concerned Maomao and Gaoshun, you hear a barely uttered whisper from the girl— heat. Food.

You try to hide your confusion and worry as you follow behind your master.

It doesn't take you long to find him.

Down the path, up against a tree, the masked figure was hunched and obviously breathing heavily. You draw closer, outstretching a hand to gently press it against the large expanse of his back.

"Kousen-sama, are you quite alright?" You ask softly, hunching slightly to capture a glimpse of his eyes from that slit in the fabric.

When you do, you're almost breathless. His violet eyes are alight with something distant and scornful. Eyebrows furrowed as he meets your own gaze.

"Y/N...?" He sounded vaguely surprised under it all, breathless himself. As if he couldn't quite believe that you were here in front of him.

You nod once, reaching out and grabbing ahold of one of the ties keeping the mask all together. "I'm going to remove this. No one is around."

His hand is suddenly wrapped around your wrist. Not tight or unrelenting, but enough to make you freeze. Warm and clammy skin against your own to make you feel scorched. You don't need to see his entire face to know that his jaw was clenched now.

"I can't," he said in all his self-assuredness, "Someone might still come."

What a pain. You thought to yourself as you draw in a heavy breath.

You don't waste a second to slip under his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders and allowing him to lean most of his weight against you. "No worries, sir, I'll just find us some place where no one else is around."

You gently guide Kousen-sama from the line of trees and deep within it. Finding an oddly familiar path created within your mind to follow that takes you towards an overflowing waterfall. A loud crash of water hitting the rocks and body of water below that brought you a distant sense of comfort. The refreshing smell of the water hits your nostrils and you take a deep breath.

With Kousen-sama against you, you felt the sweltering heat hit you tenfold. But the mist from the waterfall brushed against your skin like a gently caress from an old lover.

This is it.

You stumble over to one of the few trees next to the waterfall and gently guide Kousen-sama to sit up against it. The man took a heavy breath and you finally felt a little at ease. Reaching forward, you moved to take the cloth off once again and then—

A loud thud and chunks of dirt hit your cheek.

You frowned, looking to the ground only a could feet away and saw a small crater. A sharp smell filled your senses and you stiffened. It was an unkind and almost putrid scent. The smoke from the small crater was the main cause.

"Eh—?"

You were suddenly cut off as Kousen-sama wrapped his arms around you, jerking you upwards and away from the tree. You would've basked in the way his body was pressed against your back or the way his fingers seemed to mold into your abdomen— you would've if it weren't for the loud crack in the air then the pieces of bark that flew through the air around you.

The tree that he had been pressed up against only moments ago was now split open with a piece of metal imbedded into the wood. It looked eerily similar to the same that had been in the ground moments ago.

"Is that a feifa?!" His voice pierced through your thoughts, oddly frantic and uneasy as he moved quickly from the tree and towards the river.

You glanced up at him and found him already staring down at you. Eyes narrowed and, if it weren't for the mask, his entire face would be scrunched up in that familiar distaste and panic. Yet he seemed eerily calm as he dragged you through the trees and into the water.

"Sorry, but this is gonna get a bit dramatic." His voice was soft against your head, warm breath caressing your hair as he wraps a protective arm around your head.

Your eyebrows raise, "Dramatic— WHAT?" You should've known his tone and choice of his words were a warning for what was to come, but you were still caught off guard.

He gave no indication that he was going to jump off the cliff.

"Jinshi, you goddamn idiot!"

You mustn't get ideas above your station.

The water was oddly clear. Even with the mix of the overflowing waterfall, under it all was peaceful and calm. Fishes and water like insects lived in harmony.

Cool and calm. Always.

You are there to serve your master.

The little boy's head burst from the water with a big grin, short hair flat against his head and dripping. The sun reflecting off his violet eyes and almost blinded the little girl curled up on the side shore. Her face set into a scowl, clothes drenched, and a looming unimpressed older man behind her.

"It's so nice out, why don't you come in!" Beckoned the boy from the water.

The little girl shot him a nasty look, "You know why, you jerk!"

The boy's grin faltered, tilting his head at his friend, "Eh? Why are you being mean?" His voice wavered on the ends, still just floating in the middle of the basin.

"I'm not mean! You're mean! You're the biggest meanie!" The little girl stood up to throw an accusatory finger at the boy, her sleeve heavy and uncomfortable as she moved.

The boy's face reddened, eyebrows scrunched together, "I'm not mean! You're mean!" He repeated.

"No, you are! You're the biggest meanie in the whole wide world!"

"No, you are!"

"You are! You pushed me into the water!"

"You are! You should swim!"

"I hope you drown, meanie!"

The boy's expression fell completely. A heartbroken glint in his eyes flooding them. His lips trembled. But, before he could do something like cry, he was already swimming deeper

Nothing less, nothing more.

"Now, now," a large hand rested on the little girl's shoulder and gently tugged her back, turning her around to face the man. He seemed to be trying to appear as tender as he could to try calm down the girl's high nerves. "No need to get angry."

"But, Gaoshun—" The little girl whined.

Gaoshun shook his head, patting her shoulder, "No, we don't argue. Try to forgive and forget, yeah?" He reminded the lessons that he'd attempted multiple times to teach the two children. "No reason to walk around with resentment for others, right?"

The little girl scoffed her shoe against the ground, a pout on her lips, "Do I have to, Gaoshun?" She knew what this would call for. Exactly how this would end for her.

The man heaved a sigh, nodding, "Yes, you do. Now, go reconcile. I'll wait here."

The girl faltered as the man raised to his full height, cupping his hands behind his back. She dragged her feet through the soft soil and found her way towards the boy once more. He was grasping onto the edge of the bank, sniffling and snorting. His shoulders shook and his face was stuffed into his arms.

The little girl frowned. "Um... Are you okay?"

The boy stiffened, not turning around as he answered, "No."

"I'm sorry, I said something real mean." The little girl uttered, stepping closer as she clutched her wet clothes. "I just... You pushed me into the water, I can't..."

"I thought you were my friend!" The little boy whirled around on her, face red and eyes filled with big tears. He looked enraged but incredibly disheartened. The girl blinks in return as the boy glares. "You say such mean things to me. Friends aren't supposed to be mean!"

The girl clenched her jaw, "You were mean to me first!" She accused.

The boy sniffled, wiping under his nose with his forearm. "You're my friend." He repeated as if that cleared up any anger.

Nothing more, nothing less.

The little girl slowly sat beside him, her feet dipping under the water. "It is nice." She whispered.

The little boy dragged his eyes upwards, looking hurt but hopeful. "Right?" he asked, equally as quiet.

"You're my friend too, Jinshi." The little girl nudge him with her leg.

Jinshi's eyes twinkled, wide and all too bright, "Really?"

"Really." The little girl confirmed with a toothless grin. "My friend forever and ever!"

Jinshi positively beamed, the water sloshing as he jumped happily. "Forever and ever, and ever!"

"And ever!"

"It's no longer... appropriate for you and Jinshi-sama to be friends."

"I don't... I don't understand. He's my friend."

"His mother no longer finds it appropriate for you to concern yourself with Jinshi."

"But, Gaoshun—"

"No, Y/N. It's over. Come along. Suiren has a present for you."

"He's.... He's my friend...."

"I'm so sorry."

You are to give your life to your master.

The woman paused, back pin straight, as she entered her master's office, finding him curled up in the corner, muttering nonsensically to himself. The guard of said master was watching on with a pitiful expression of his own, only breaking his eyes away when the woman entered the room. His expression only seemed to deepen.

She didn't need to ask. There was an unspoken understanding as to what their master's breakdown was regarding. The Apothecary. The one that had gotten the attention of everyone in the palace as of late. The one that had been causing her great grief as of late— and was about to create more.

"Jinshi-sama?" The woman called softly, stepping closer.

Jinshi's lifeless eyes continued to stare at the floor below him. A gentle rocking seeming to soothe himself from the rages of his mind. "I don't need anything, Y/N. Thank you, kindly." He uttered just as lifelessly.

The devoted servant's chest clenched. Her face flushed as she reached out a wavering hand. To place it delicately against his hunched back. To offer her best comforting words that she could. To distract him away from her.

Any inappropriate behavior will be punished, severely.

She faltered. This wasn't her place. This wasn't a part of her duties unless Jinshi said so. Inappropriate behavior wasn't called for. It will be punished severly.

Retracting her hand, she stands, and offers a respectful bow. "Please call me if you need anything, Jinshi-sama." And left him in his dark corner.

"Gaoshun, may I ask you something?"

"Of course, Jinshi-sama."

"You have been in my life for as long as I can remember. You remember more than I possibly could about my younger years. Whatever happened to cause me and Y/N to fall apart?"

"...."

"It had to be around the time I was eight that I noticed we were growing apart. Even now, I see it so clearly."

"It's been a long time, Jinshi-sama. You're no longer children."

"All the more reason to know, isn't it?"

"I don't know...."

"Gaoshun, nothing will come of it. I'm simply curious."

"..."

"I'm sorry to put you in this position. Please return to what you were doing."

"Jinshi-sama.... you might not like the truth..."

"I usually don't."

"Where to begin.... Before her eighth birthday—"

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"H....E—"

Everything felt so muffled. Faraway. Featherlight.

Was that a pressure against your chest? A thump that came into quick successions, then stopped. For something soft and ever so delicate to press against your lips?

Everything was distant. So far away from your grasp. From your state of being. As if you were already long gone from whatever reality you were in moments ago.

"H—"

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It was almost like floating. A gentle sway and a crack.

A joyful gliding against the sky that soothed you away from worries and woes.

Thump. Thump. Lips.

Repeating endlessly. Happily. Wetly?

Thump. Thump. Lips.

You welcomed it. Whatever it was. Whatever kept the rhythm. The wonderful rhythm.

Thump. Thump. Lips.

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Thump. Thump. Lips.

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Thump. Thump. Lips.

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Thump. Thump. Lips.

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Thump. Thump. Lips.

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Thump. Thump. Lips.

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THUMP. THUM—

You shot up with a cough.

Your throat burned and head ached terribly. Your eyes almost felt like they were about to pop out of your head and roll away. You felt horrible.

It didn't help that you were drenched from head to toe either.

Beside you, there was a heavy and loud sigh of relief as he fell to his backside. He let a silence fall over you both as you recovered, hand pressed against your throat and heaving.

Jesus. Had you almost...

The thought alone almost made you sick.

"I'm sorry. I thought.... I didn't think you still couldn't swim." His voice was soft, barely heard over the waterfall. Kind and cautious, worried and terrified. Things that seeped from his tone as if it were bleeding out and bearing all its insides to you.

Exposing him to you.

You peeked over your loose strands of hair to glare viciously at him. "When would I have the time to learn to swim?" You shot back ruthlessly, not entirely caring from etiquette in this moment. "You've lost your mind."

"Right." Jinshi immediately agreed, almost looking fearful as he watched you.

You push yourself up and take in a deep breath, coughing slightly at the burn of your throat. Taking in your surroundings, you swore that this was that—

"Are you really alright?"

You glanced back at the man and found him still sat on the damp ground. His eyebrows are furrowed and a small frown on his lips as he stared up at you. It made you uncomfortable. To see such a glittering violet staring back at you earnestly. Honestly.

You instead clutch onto your dress, "Suiren is gonna kill me." You scoff, tugging the garments apart.

You could hear Jinshi sputter behind you. The gravel and dirt below him crunching as he probably scrambled up from his spot.

You spared a feeble look over your shoulder to find him with his eyes clenched slowed, hand covering your body from his gaze. You snap your gaze back around and tug the fabric a little too hard as you scoff.

You wouldn't deny the pang of hurt that clenched your chest.

"Don't worry, Jinshi-sama, you won't have to see my unruly body of mine for long. I just want to make sure Suiren doesn't slaughter me when we return."

"I— No, I'm just— okay." He finally muttered.

You are stripped down to your underthings, placing the dress and various pieces on the ground as delicately as you can to avoid too much dirt being stained into the fabric.

As you place the last bit of clothing down, you hear the flutter of fabric behind you.

Jinshi is a bright red, gently tossing his robe down behind him. His back is facing you and you know its for whatever mock sense of modesty he wants to give the both of you. You instinctively reach out and take his robe in your grasp, twisting it and squeezing it to watch out a fair amount of water drip out.

"You worry about mine later. Take care of your things first."

Yeah, right, You think as you twist it with an unrelenting grip. You are there to serve your master. It's one of the first things you learn. His needs came before your own. His needs were your needs.

Jinshi snatched the robe away and squeezed the fabric tight, an overflowing amount of water released from the cloth and into the ground.

Okay, so maybe he was better at it than you.

You nod, turning your attention towards your own garments and try to ignore the overwhelming feeling that you had eyes on your rear.

"So, um—" Jinshi cleared his throat when his eyes dragged away from you, cheeks a bright red. "What now?"

"Well, we could attempt at trying to swim back—"

"You can't swim."

"I was going to say that."

"Oh, sorry."

There's a soft silence between the both of you as you finish up. Gently redressing, you make your way towards the entrance of the cave, where the waterfall is blocking it from any negative eyes. You press your lips into a thin line and regard it bitterly. You remember this waterfall.... you could recall the times you whimsical pondered what it'd be like to ride down it like in those stories.

Jinshi had promised such when you both were too young and too dumb to realize how naïve dreams like that were.

You couldn't really judge that mini-you, for you had your own dreams of—

"Remember when Gaoshun first brought us here?"

You hadn't realized that Jinshi made his way over until he was standing beside you. Robes lose over his shoulders and tugging on his top layer. Violet eyes were watching the water as if it were a canvas of memories in the long distant past. Something to be admired and viewed with daisies and smiles. Not to be addressed as anything but good or amazing. Not to see the truth of it all.

You press your lips together, drawing in a heavy breath, "I remember you pushing me in the water and Gaoshun having to pull me out."

Jinshi's face screws up slightly, a faint blush on his features as he almost looks around with shame. "Right...." He straightens, "I'm sorry."

You blink, "Huh?"

Jinshi glances at you with a small smile, "I, uh, never really apologized back then. Made you apologize like you did something wrong." He explains weakly.

You raise an amused brow, "I told you I wished you would drown."

"I kinda deserved it!" Jinshi counters, his lips cracking into a grin. That charming grin he gets that makes your heart flutter. Make you hopeful for terrible and wistful. "I'm real sorry."

You smile softly, eyes kind and soft as you regard him, "I forgave you a long time, Jinshi-sama."

Jinshi's expression faltered, "Don't call me...." He trailed off awkwardly, turning his attention back to the unrelenting waterfall. You watched him for that moment. That split second where it looked like he was actually going to say something that would make you lightheaded. His jaw working and the muscle jumping as he seems to contemplate his next words.

Say anything and I'll cling to it, You think, watching his lips part, I always have. I always will.

"I'm surprised you were the one that followed me out. I thought the Apothecary might've done it."

You tense. That was certainly not what you expected him to say. Of all the things he could say? The Apothecary.

The waterfall in front of you is suddenly much too loud and violent. The cave seems to darken and your eyes drag from Jinshi to stare at your bare feet. Of course. Of course. Why wouldn't he want Maomao? Why had you even came here? Who were you to get between whatever silent signal he was trying to send to the other girl.

Him and Maomao. It was nicer than him and you. Jinshi and Y/n.

You straighten, pushing down any ill thoughts and heavy feelings into the dark pits of your chest and mind. "I apologize for the intrusion. I thought it'd make more sense for me to accompany you, Jinshi-sama."

"Why are you apologizing....?" He trailed off and then made a noise that sounded eerily similar to that of a caught man. "No, wait, I'm really glad that you're the one who came! Like really glad!"

"You don't have to spare me, Jinshi-sama. I'm a woman now, not a little girl."

"I'm not—" He visibly slumps, closing his eyes and trying to collect whatever thoughts he has and place them appropriately. He draws in a breath and faces you, looking oddly serious compared to his usual self. "I'm not trying to spare your feelings. I was just trying to say that— Well, it's not— I want you here, Y/n."

He's sparing your feelings. He's being kind. He doesn't actually want you there. You can't be friends.

You don't spare him a response. Instead, walking further into the cave. You raise your eyebrows, looking at the gaping hole above you where light and the sounds of nature filtered in. What could possibly get you both out of there...?

Whistle. Sit.

Of course. Him.

Jinshi sighs, "I spoke to Gaoshun before we—"

You place your fingers in the corner of your mouth and blow. A loud whistle bounces off the cave walls and out of the hole. You wait and hope to hear a bark or see the familiar tall man, but there's nothing.

"What are you doing?" Jinshi asks slowly, glancing between you and the hole above.

"Hello?" You cup your hands over your mouth and shout as loudly as you can. "Is anyone out there?"

Jinshi frowns, staring at you uneasily, "Y/n, please, we don't want to attract them this direction."

In the mess of almost drowning and seeing peeps of Jinshi's bare skin, you'd almost forgotten that you both had been chased down here by some violent assassin. Rather foolish, if you were honest.

You place the tips of your fingers against your lips and try to force the blush spreading across your cheeks off. "Sorry." You offer a bow of your head, despite the position you both find yourselves in.

You receive no response which causes you to peek at him. The stare that he's leveling you with doesn't bring you any type of comfort. It usually meant he was about to say something that—

"Hop on my back and see if you can reach up there."

—you wouldn't like.

Your eyebrows shot upwards and you stared at him with wide eyes. If Suiren was here and knew what he just proposed, she'd positively lose her mind. No matter how long she had known you— she'd think it improper. He was your boss and you were his lowly servant. To be in an position above him or treating him like a mat, it was...

It was simply ridiculous.

"But—"

"If you're the one below, you'll get crushed." He jabs a thumb over his shoulder. "Do it."

And that's how you ended up here. Legs wrapped around Jinshi's shoulders and heads, hand reaching out for the dirt above. You dig your fingers in and glance down at the man below you.

"Are you sure I'm not hurting you?"

Jinshi sighed for what seemed the hundredth time that day, his hand on your thigh squeezing gently. "Y/N, please stop asking me that."

You grimace, "My apologies, Jinshi-sama. Sorry." You shakily raise from your place, ignoring the soft and deep grunt Jinshi gives as you stand on his shoulders.

You dig your nails into the damp dirt and begin to tug yourself up.

This is it. Finally, you could get into the open forest once again. You're not going to be suffocated by his presence. Everything will return back to its rightful places—

You froze when it smacked you in the forehead.

You tried to keep calm as you felt the slimy breathing thing rest on your skin. Body tensed up and eyes staring widely at the bright sky above.

"Y/N?" Jinshi softly called, noticing the way you tensed.

"F—Frog." You utter, jaw clenched tight and you felt it shift as you take a deep breath. "A frog."

Jinshi blinked, looking up at you with his own wide eyes, "Hey, don't-don't freak out! Just shake your head and it'll hop off."

You shake a little, but follow his instructions. However, you may have overestimated the shake as you lose your grip on the dirt and begin to fall back.

"Hey!"

The tumble down is short and not all that hurtful, like you had been expecting. You had closed your eyes in anticipation, fear of having to watch the ground quickly approach too much for your tiny heart. You expected to feel the damp mud to be seeping into your clothes and little bits of stone and bark digging into your skin. However—

Nothing.

There was nothing except the soft silk under your fingers. The scent that resembled a sweet fruit, one that you had smelt quite often in the mornings. In the noons, the evenings, the nights, repeat. You knew that smell and that familiar beat against your own chest.

Peeking your eyes open, you find that Jinshi is already staring back at you. The first thing you notice is that you both are extremely close to one another. His breath fans against your dewy face, making goosebumps raise off your skin and a shiver sent down your spin. Next is his tender expression, Eyes gentle and twinkling. His expression isn't filled with pain or anything that would indicate that he was uncomfortable with the very short distance between you both. The last thing you notice is the fact that your body is pressed against his.

Your complexion flushes and you blink down at him.

He's warm. Incredibly warm. A sharp contrast to his damp clothes, which are open and pooling under his shoulder blades, revealing his bare chest to you. Your breath is ripped from you as you stare at the plump skin. You've seen it a million times. Every day as you help him get ready for the day. It should be normal. Should be something that doesn't make you lightheaded.

But it does.

He's right there. Right against you. You can feel his heartbeat ramming against his chest and into yours. You can feel every small breath he takes—as if hanging onto this moment with, what? Trepidation? Unease? You weren't entirely sure but you knew that you felt light.

Was it so bad that you felt nice in this moment? That this warmth was wrong? Was it so out of your reach that you simply couldn't imagine a man wanting to embrace you in a way?

You are to give your life to your master. Any inappropriate behavior will be punished, severely.

Yes. It was.

You clenched your jaw, ignoring the tender look in Jinshi's eyes as you try to bring your mind into the present.

The frog.

It wasn't anything that you wanted to touch, but Jinshi was your master. Your discomforts and fears must be pushed away for his sake and needs.

Reaching down, you feel for any signs of the frog. It wasn't large, but it wasn't entirely small either. It wouldn't be hard to find in all it's slimy and— There it is.

Your hand brushed it and you feel almost elated to find it. Your hand cupped around the bulge from Jinshi's robes. It feels much bigger than the average frog that'd been on your forehead. It was unmoving to, except for the small twitch it gives as you rest your palm down. You gripped it.

"Hng," Jinshi grunts, his eyes close. You're a little shocked as his hips shift, his hands at your hips dig into your flesh, almost too eager. You snap your eyes upward to his suddenly sweating and flushed face. "I-I'm sorry, but... but could you move your hand? It's making things, um, rather difficult."

Difficult?

You grip onto the twitching frog below you—

"U-Uh—" Jinshi moans in a deep and guttural way that would make anyone, especially you, malfunction. It doesn't help that his hands latch onto you harder, pressing you closer and releasing a stuttering breath against your ear.

Why was he squirming so much? Why was his face so red and dripping with sweat? Why was his chest heaving and his hands flexing around your skin? And why was this thing twitching and getting bigger in your hold....

Oh.

Oh.

You are to give your life to your master. Any inappropriate behavior will be punished, severely.

You felt a little sick at your intrusion. At the gall. You couldn't believe yourself. You had violated one of the single rules you were ever given. You violated Jinshi's space. His entire being. You were to be punished and hated— ousted from your position.

Disgusted with yourself, you slowly stand up. Jinshi's softly panting from his position on the ground, running a hand through his mused hair.

"S-Sorry, I haven't— I'm a bit—" Jinshi's obviously embarassed and uncomfortable. Look what you've done. You've ruined it all. "Hey, where are you going?"

Before you could think much more as his hands grip your hips once again and pull you down.

You're sat on his his lap and you could feel it.

"J-Jinshi-sama, I'm so-I'm so sorry!" You tucked your head down, shaking with trembling lips.

Jinshi's hands fall to your thighs, limp, "Eh...?"

"What I did was truly inappropriate and-and I will take any and all punishment!"

"Punishment...?" He sounded terribly confused, still a bit breathless. You keep your head ducked and he remains unmoved. "Why would I... you're not getting punished."

"I give my life to you. Any inappropriate behavior will be punished." You repeated softly under your breath, tucking your hands against your face to hide away from his gaze. From the judgement and hatred. "It's only just."

There's a longstanding silence between the both of you and you're hopeful that he's coming to his senses. That you'd be released and freed. That you would finally accept the gap and space between them. To fall away, finally, to the shadows.

It was tarnished the moment Jinshi wraps your hands around your own, gently prying your hands away from your face.

He doesn't look vengeful or angered. No. No, he looks kind. As he always has been. Kind and considerate. Honest and open. He'd always been so...

He'd never really been angry with you. Not without sadness being overbearing. Always so quick to forgive you. To push everything away with a smile and crinkle of his eyes.

"Y/N..." His words are as soft as his expression.

Your hands shake, "Please... Please hate me." You pleaded quietly, pressing your forehead against his hands as if he were a monk to be begged to.

"I'm not going to punish you or... or anything of the sort. Why would you want that?"

You draw in a watery breath, shoulders shaking, "It's easier to let go that way." You admitted.

"Let go of what?"

"Of my love for you."

"What?!"

His shout echoed off the cave walls. Your humiliation and embarrassment was quick to follow once it bounced back at you. Made you flinch back and try to push yourself back from his lap. Why did you say anything? Fool. Disgusting fool.

"Hey, hey, hey," Jinshi's hands wrap around your wrists and tug you forward a bit. You refuse to meet his eye. You refuse to be humiliated and demeaned— "Don't do that. Don't close off."

You clench your jaw and try to push the humilation deep within you, taking a deep calming breath as you stared at his bare collar. "You're so kind and so... you. I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable or disgusted, but I need to tell you. And then I would hope that you would let me go."

Jinshi's eyebrows shot up. "Let you go?"

You've been thinking about this for some time. That it all would be better if, in the end, you were to serve someone else. That you were pawned off for some soldier instead of this slow torture. This uncomfortable, unbearable tiptoeing.

"I would like for you to offer me to a soldier or anywhere else."

The reaction is instant. The way Jinshi's complexion darkens and he stares at you with wide eyes. He slumps into the damp ground and almost turns into putty. His hold on you slackens and gives you ample opportunity to move away. But you're frozen in your spot.

"Why would I do that?" Jinshi's voice is quiet, slow, "You're... You're mine."

A blush takes over your cheeks, "Jinshi-sama, It's not appropriate! I shouldn't be like this with you."

"What if I like it?"

You blink at him. "Huh?"

Jinshi leans forward, his thumb gently skirting against your skin. "What if I have some love for you too? What if I don't care about what's appropriate or follows the rules."

I would ask who you are. You were tempted to say but your mouth was clamped shut in shock. Following the rules had been completely him. He was put in his current position now to ensure the rules in the rear palace were being followed diligently. The thought that he would love someone like you when there were people like Maomao or princesses out there. People much more deserving of his devotion. It wasn't right.

As if sensing you're not believing him, he pulls away and presses his lips thin. "Okay, I'll convince you." He straightens up and takes a breath. "I spoke to Gaoshun not too long ago. Before we came here and I know everything now."

A pause. Everything. He knew everything now? Everything is so much. Everything is... well, everything. What exactly had Gaoshun told him?

"What's everything?"

"That my mother didn't want you around anymore. That Gaoshun told you that you weren't allowed around me anymore. That you stopped being my friend and became my employee."

Your stare up at Jinshi with wide eyes. "That's not...Us being friends wasn't right anymore."

Jinshi frowned, shaking his head and his hands slide up to your arms. "If I had my way, I would've had you by my side all that time. Not as some lady-in-waiting, but as my equal."

You shake your head, ignoring the erratic beating of your heart against your chest. "Don't say that. Don't say things you don't mean, Jinshi." You beg softly.

Jinshi reaches out, wrapping his hands around your own, pressing it against his chest. "I mean it with everything in me. If it were up to me, I wouldn't have ever been separated from you. Forget what my mother said." His words were sweet, tempting. They made you lightheaded. So did the sudden brightness and tender smile on his face. "That's the first time you've called me Jinshi since we were kids."

"What? I've always called you Jinshi."

"No, you've always called me Jinshi-sama."

"Oh."

You suppose you had.

"Jinshi," You utter, unsure of what else you both could say.

Jinshi's expression, if possible, softens further, leaning forward an inch. "Yes?" He whispers back just as softly.

Your eyes trail between his eyes before moving to his lips, parted and glistening, "Jinshi..."

Jinshi's hand slides up your thigh and his lips are ghosting against yours, "I'm here. I promise." He whispers before pressing your lips together delicately.

Your heart soars. Your hands shakily press against his cheeks, drawing closer as his own press your hips together. He's soft. He's tender. He's cautious and all encompassing. Filling your senses and making you lightheaded.

As you both part for a breath, he flips you onto your back. His hand grips the underside of your thigh and presses you close enough that he lets out a soft and broken sound.

His eyes are heavily lidded as he gazes down at you, lips pink. "I just want you. No one else. I promise." He utters.

You twist your hands into his hair, eyes fluttering. "You're it." You pass back.

His lips are back on yours. Wet and eager. This is sudden. Fast. But you've been waiting for so long. Had been clinging onto the smallest of things. Desperate to have this closeness that you had now. To feel his skin against yours. His breath mixing with your own. Everything him and everything you intertwined.

You just wanted to cherish this—

WOOF!

You and Jinshi both tense up, jumping. Looking over his shoulder, your eyes widen upon finding a familiar dog staring down at you both, wagging tail eager and happy to see you.

Jinshi's eyebrows furrow, "Huh...?"

There's not much warning before the dog is jumping down. Landing straight on Jinshi's back, causing the poor man to let out a pained sound. He's squishing you against the ground as the dog stands on his back, happily lapping his tongue against your cheek.

Vague disgust and disappointment wash over you, but you smile all the same. "Oh, boy!"

He barks again. A greeting you're sure.

Above, Lihaku and, surprisingly, Maomao appear. Both of them stare down at you with varying degrees of emotions. Lihaku looked excited and kinda like his dog, while Maomao.

Well, Maomao looked all too knowing.

"Well, you look rough!" Lihaku called down with a grin, "Glad to see you're not dead."

"As am I!" You huff out a laugh, then look to Maomao. "Hello, Xiaomao!"

"Hello." Maomao said flatly, she looked lower and her face screwed up distastefully. "Is Jinshi-sama okay?"

Lihaku then he spots his dog and slightly pales, letting out a sharp whistle. "C'mon, boy!"

The dog eagerly jumps off Jinshi, going to sit by your head and wag his tail. The man above you sighs in relief, pushing up off you. He sits up and you try not to focus on the bright blush on his face.

"Why did he do that?" The royal asks.

"Must've thought something was wrong." Lihaku rubs the back of his neck, frowning down at you both. "What... exactly where you two doing?"

You and Jinshi glance at one another, furious blushes flushing over you both. Despite anything that Jinshi said, there were things that you weren't allowed to do. Rules and laws that forbid something like this form happening the public eye. For a man like himself from being with a woman like you. A servant with a beautiful prince.

Protecting him was the priority.

"Nothing!" You shout back, ignoring the eyebrow raise that garnered from both Jinshi and Maomao.

Everything was better left alone. A secret between the both of you. To cherish and hold for however long it may need. You could deal with the anger and longing later.

[vanderilnde]

HEAR ME OUT

while i believe simon would never cheat on the love of his life, i do also believe that living in close quarters with someone; sustaining the plight of near-death experiences together; and the intrinsic bond that comes with suturing up a teammate that took a bloody bullet for you, may prompt some second thoughts in simon’s mind, and may inspire a mean little devil on his shoulder. let me elaborate:

-

"You're a fuckin' muppet," he grunts.

The words come from the hull of Simon's throat—brutish in how he smoulders you with his stare—and is succeeded by a plume of smoke thereafter. "A real fuckin' muppet."

"So are you," you counter.

The hind of his spine straightens. It's in a stint of disbelief, because you’re a sergeant back-talking your lieutenant. Simon’s eyes follow the streamline of your gaze, and he freezes. He sees what you're focused on: his ring.

Or, rather, his lack thereof.

In place of his wedding stack, you notice, a loop of pale skin winks at you instead. It stands out from the rest of Simon's skin—slightly tanned, welted, with distending divots and a gossamer of blisters. It's ugly, and even uglier in the stark absence of his thin, gilt band.

Simon's not wearing his wedding ring.

His consciousness is impaired and belatedly catches up to him. And when it does, Simon burns his tongue soot-stained as he sharply inhales and invites a layer of ash to slip past his throat. He coughs, eyebrows pursed in the silvery glow of moonlight.

"This ain't about me."

Ash falls off his cigarette as Simon crudely taps it against his forefinger. He secures the cigarette with the threshold of his lips and bitterly continues, "You wanted to take a bullet meant for me, no? Earned yourself a psych eval."

"Price'll let me on the field even if I fail," you sneer.

"Your responsibility's to follow orders, not play hero–"

A scoff bubbles from your throat and collapses Simon's sentence. "You're in no place to be talking about responsibilities, L.T.–"

"Quiet," he snaps, like a dog on a leash that's too long and had its favourite toy pried from its paws. Simon's a rottweiler, baring his fangs and barking at you through the iron cage of his gritted teeth.

His chest rises and falls. Ribbons of scratch marks from your nails decorate his chest, down to his navel.

You scoff. “You're a fucking liar.”

Simon clenches his fist. A cold breeze slips past you both, ebbing over your breathing gun injury. The injury that he'd dressed this afternoon. Like atonement; like he was licking your wounds with his tail tucked between his legs; like a fervent kiss.

Because Simon isn't just a liar to the woman he said his vows to in a church in Manchester; he's a liar to you, for swearing that this—what ever this is, this little parasite between you—isn't real.

Something like the humid mass of guilt sticks to your flesh as you remember the lady who always picks him up for R&R; who he has as his background on his phone; who holds the other half of his wedding band—which isn't on his finger—and which hasn't been on Simon's finger for a long time, even though his "I don't want to endanger her" excuse is getting stale.

Simon stares at you. In the middle of his tent, in the middle of the desert, in the blip of what seems like frozen time.

He's backed into a corner, beseeching with his eyes to not confront whatever somatic presence orbits around you. Bringing him and his wife apart, and bringing the two of you together. Not only on missions, but at the dead of midnight, too. In the dark corners of Simon's office. Wherever there's a blind spot at Hereford's base. In a fickle tent as you two scope out the enemy.

Quietly, under the howling breeze, he whispers, "I know."

Simon's wedding band sits on his cot back at Hereford.

Simon's wife sits in Manchester.

Simon's sin lays beside him. Naked, sweaty, swathed in cheap bedsheets.

You're pricked by the spindle of his tongue, bleeding a mosaic across your body. It's a bullet wound, and it's a pair of lips, and its passion. A palette of hickey's and kisses and bite marks.

Testaments of territory Simon had left on you the night before.

[cookierunauprompts]

Can you please do a continuation of req 8 (the masquerade ball on) pleas I really loved it

absolutely, that's one of my favorite reqs that i've ever written. you do not understand how much i love masquerades hehehe

Requested Prompts #40 - 💓

You steadily picked yourself up from the ground, what had happened? The last thing you remember you were at the ball and then... nothing. You couldn't even remember who you were dancing with, if you were even dancing at all. You take a look around, taking in your surroundings... or rather, the lack thereof. You were surrounded by an inky black abyss that stained your vision black yet still allowed you to see, you could tell that it did that because you could see yourself almost perfectly. " Hello?" You call into the abyss, not expecting an answer even though that's what you want. " Is anyone there?" There was a pause, an almost infinitely long pause. For a moment you worried that you were stuck here, in the void, alone. You'd surely go insane if that were the case, but luckily( or perhaps, unluckily depending on how you view it) that wasn't the case. The ground trembled, and you stumbled back just in time to see a quite frankly way too large eye open up where you had been standing. It glowed a bright blue, reminding you of something you just couldn't put your finger on. And slowly but surely, it rotated to look at you. More eyes popped up, each staring at you when they opened. You receded into yourself, backing away even though it seemed that no matter how far you went they always seemed to get closer. You trip over your own feet and soon find yourself falling backwards, with fear clutching you for a mere moment before you are caught. " Now now, Little Star, we can't have you falling over now, can we?" A voice tutted with a chuckle, a rather familiar voice actually... You looked around for the source of the voice, and for who caught you, but you couldn't find anything other than the fact you were caught by a large, shadowy hand. You squeaked with surprise as you saw it's fingers curl around your form. " Y-you... Just who are you?" You called out into the darkness, your response beginning with a maniacal laugh. " Oh what a shame it is that you don't even recognize me... I'm rather hurt, Little Star." The voice cooed, and that's when it hit you. This voice belongs to that cookie at the masquerade ball... and the one that appeared in your dreams, the one you made that deal with... Oh sweet witches, just what did you get yourself into? " Show yourself!" You commanded, yet you were unable to hide the treble of fear that wormed its way into your tone. " Ehehe... Eheheha... Ehe he ha ha hah!" The voice cackled, you could feel the two largest eyes, the ones that looked like they actually belonged to a face, peering down at you. " Oho? So the princess wants me to reveal myself? I might as well indulge the wishes of her highness then~!" The voice chirped.

You stared on in a mixture of fear and awe as the Shadows receded to reveal the large figure of the cookie before you, bearing the same silhouette as the jester that appeared in your dream, only colored in. His heterochromatic blue eyes stared down at you as a grin stretched to be far too wide across his face. " Why hello there little princess! I'm so terribly sorry to have kept you waiting, but now we can finally meet face to face! Or well, face to real face." The jester chuckled, you couldn't help but feel like you've heard about this... well, this jester before. The cogs in your brain turn and turn, where have you heard about a Jester who could manipulate the Shadows to do his bidding? Ah, that's right, from your father. This was one of the five beasts, the fallen heroes. Shadow Milk Cookie. You fucked up big time just by making a deal with him in the first place, and you could tell that he could tell based just on your expression that you'd come to this realization. " Aw, there's no need to look so concerned! I do intend to keep my end of our little deal." You leaned away from him. " Considering your track record for deceiving cookies... I doubt it." You say, glancing up at him suspiciously. The gargantuan jester sighed dramatically. " You really don't remember out contract, do you?" He asked, to which you responded to with a shake of your head. " Fine, fine, I'll explain it again from the top." Shadow Milk Cookie cleared his throat, beginning to speak. " The very notion of our deal was that you would give me what you desired most in exchange for what you valued most, yes? What you wanted the most was freedom... Yet 'Freedom' is also what you value the most. So you put me into a bit of a conundrum as to how to collect what you valued while also giving you the freedom you ever so desperately desired." You gulped, you had a rather concerning feeling about this. You felt like you had acted selfishly in the past, far too selfish. " So then I had a thought!" The jester chirped, not helping the sinking feeling in your gut in the slightest. " What if I exchanged the freedom of your kingdom in exchange for yours? It was a truly marvelous idea if I do say so myself!" And there it was.

[hiraya-rawr]

Same Xiao anon here: this is revenge.

Someone mentioned Scaramouche sibling ideas and you know what? I’m here for it.

Another prototype created after Scaramouche’s inception, once again another failure but for different reasons. This prototype was much to hopeful, much too ambitious, much too mortal to withstand the station of eternity. Before it was abandoned, in its hazed yet dreamy state it learned of their long lost predecessor - they would come to call him brother rather than “puppet” in the eyes of their mother.

With just that misty dream, they pressed on into the world in search of their brother. Unlike Scaramouche’s experience, with each obstacle and heartbreak they continued on forever hopeful and naive - the very flaw that casted them out.

Only… when they do find him, he has no room in his heart (or lack thereof) for his so called kin. At least he still has a use for them: a worthy sacrifice for the birth of a god. Yes, nothing more.

🙂

scaramouche sibling brainrot

// XIAO ANON PLEASE THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I WAS THINKING THANK YOU FOR PUTTING IT SO WELL INTO WORDS

Another puppet was made after Scaramouche, it's maybe even more of a failure than its "big brother". Too hopeful, too loving, it could never handle the duties of an Archon.

To Yae Miko, she believed that destroying it would be merciful— but to Ei -who couldn't raise a hand against her own creation- thought that abandonment would be a less cruel fate.

Your "mother" tells you of another puppet, she isn't sure why. Maybe she hopes you'll find each other, maybe deep down she's aware of her flaws as the "creator".

You didn't understand why you couldn't meet her after that. Thrown out into a world you had little knowledge of. Perhaps mother was too busy? Perhaps she wanted you to stand on your own two feet? You roamed Inazuma, learning new things each day.

One day, you learned that the village kids you frequently played with had siblings. Born of the same womb— of the same mother. Is that what a sibling is? Was the puppet your mother created before you your sibling?

Did mother tell you so that you may find your brother?

Scaramouche hears of you. From both rumors and his own intel, he thinks you're a little pathetic. You've been thrown out like him, no better than trash and another sour stain in the world— but your activities pique his curiosity.

What is with you making friends? You strike conversations with the Fatui, you help lost travelers, you share food— have you not learned the first time? As if there's a severe flaw in your system.

He doesn't try to avoid you. He doesn't try to meet you either. To him, you're simply strangers... until the day you find him, happily calling him your older brother as if the long search was over.

He stares at you with dumbfounded disgust. What?

"Ha? Brother? Listen here, you are no different from a toy thrown away. She is not your mother, and I am not your brother."

Scaramouche doesn't understand why you continued to follow him. Loudly, at first, then quietly the next. Pacing yourself just a little behind him, not in a way that would bother him but he knows you're there by the sound of your footsteps.

He tries to shake you off. Lose you in crowds and his random missions, but you'd always somehow find him (sometimes, it takes only days. Other times, it takes years).

Eventually, he settles for a life where you're always nearby— constantly within reach. He doesn't bother to knock some sense in you about the complicated nature of your existence (to him, you're too dumb to understand anyway. a head full of flowers, he says, even when you're actually quite smart).

He doesn't correct you when you call him brother anymore either, and you settle for a life that's almost peaceful (he never truly tells you what he does with the Fatui. you don't follow him either, knowing he'll get angry, and you wouldn't want your brother to get angry at you!)

// makes me wonder how his story quest would progress once hes playable

[wonderbutch]

Cassie Sandsmark’s Relationship With Femininity

ok so i want to dive more into cassie sandsmarks character and her relationships.

throughout her comic appearances, gender, femininity, sexuality and lack thereof is very prominent in cassie sandsmarks character. Its shown as soon as she appears. shes 14, short haired and wears baggy clothes and overall gives off the stereotypical tomboy vibe which continues on and off throughout her young justice appearances, but she also battles deeply with what she really wants.

she also clearly shows multiple times that she wants, or thinks she wants boys, specifically superboy (kon-el) to like her, going as far as to join young justice to see him (although i have more thoughts on this which ill get to later)

she also shows jealousy towards cissie because of kons attention to her.

HOWEVER i have reason to believe that this is born of compulsive heterosexuality and a misguided attempt at displaying her need for attention and validation (often from guys because, again, comphet).

for example, here it mentions that cassie cant stop thinking about cissie “doing something romantic” with superboy.

which, i may be reaching here, but if she was truly romantically interested in kon, wouldn’t she mention him first rather than cissie? also, she mentions shes not thrilled that boys are looking at her, even though she thought thats what she used to want.

later on she becomes best friends with cissie, almost instantly after seeing her stick up for others, going as far as to literally fall asleep holding her hand. you cant tell me thats not at least a little gay.

as shown before multiple times, cassie strives for companionship and attention, its not a bad thing, in fact it further shows that cassie is kindhearted and loves those around her deeply, even if they don’t necessarily feel the same or treat her well (for example, the boys are constantly underestimating her in the early issues, especially kon who goes as far to be outwardly shocked when she takes a risk and turns out to be right)

(this isnt hate against kon, theyre all learning and figuring stuff out)

but after cissie leaves the team, which cassie doesn’t take very well, her “attraction” to kon seems to fade away, she also seems to be slightly more aware of the fact that kon doesn’t exactly take her completely seriously.

after young justice: sins of youth, cassie sheds the wig and the shorts and swaps to jeans and a leather jacket which is more “masculine”. she also refers to her old outfit, which could be seen as symbolic of her comphet, as her “what was i thinking phase”

despite seeming more sure of herself, shes still battling with who she is and how she wants to be, she gets angrier and moodier, which is touched on in issue 22

she doesn’t know what she wants, and it scares her. shes 14-15 and a superhero and people have expectations for her, she has expectations for herself too, which she often projects onto other people (which ill mention later when i get to her in teen titans) shes only sure of a few things: she wants to be a hero, she wants her best friend back, she wants to be taken seriously. between those three things though? she has no idea.

around her, everything is breaking down. cissie is struggling with her mother and cassie (for the most part) had a healthy upbringing and doesn’t know how to relate and help cissie with that. despite this, she still has unrealistic expectations of cissie. she doesn’t understand why she doesn’t want to be a hero because cassie has always wanted that, and wants cissie to want that too.

so, we get to issue 35 where everything comes to a head with cissie.

she refuses to listen to cissie even though time and time again shes told. after cissie proves a point, cassie finally starts to understand (although she still pushes it a few times in the next issue)

and then after going through a war and having tim and bart leave, and tim come back, and suddenly shes running for leader and confesses to “kon” that she loved him, or thought she loved him, and then she is leader and shes handling a full on invasion of zandia.

so needless to say, cassie doesn’t really have time to think about herself and her identity. at this point her hair has grown significantly, and she’s no longer acting entirely like herself.

so this all happens, greta betrays everyone (deserved) and then suddenly shes human and then donna dies which cassie takes very hard.

a pattern ive noticed is that the more disconnected from herself that she gets, and the more angrier, she changes her appearance to be more feminine, like she’s in denial or at least trying to hide behind femininity so she doesn’t have to admit her own emotions to herself.

as she starts a somewhat vague relationship with conner, she never really refers to him as her boyfriend, often using the word friend instead, despite conner referring to her as his girlfriend.

she also starts to project this idea of femininity and repression, specifically onto raven. when raven expresses considerable discomfort at wearing a dress, cassie counters this with a “you said you wanted to expand your wardrobe”, like she wants raven to be what she’s trying to be. feminine, happy and without fault.

later, she mentions her previous appearance, ambitions, and seems to have a sense of hatred for her previous self, despite in all accounts she was quite happy and open during that period in her life.

to me, cassie’s femininity is a way to hide her true self. its the way she can feel better and not as confused, and try to be someone shes not by just denying the way she really feels.

in conclusion cassie is a butch lesbian thank u for reading this makes absolutely no sense but idc bc the cassie brainrot is real and has taken hold

[deepwoundsandfadedscars]

Fandom: Shadow & Bone (TV) word count: 5,415 Whumpee: Kaz Brekker Whump tropes: explosion, human shield, self sacrifice, burns, touch aversion, unconscious, caretaking

This is my longest fic to date and frankly there could be more. This is unbeta'd cause I was too excited to get it posted to wait for anyone else to read it 😅

Gifting this to @bocularteletheric because of our shared love of Kaz whump, please enjoy ❤

Read on Ao3 or continue below~

~~~

"Are you really sure this is the best use of our time, boss? I was rather hoping to be keeping warm with a drink and a rousing conversation over a hand of cards this evening," Jesper griped for the third time.

Kaz sighed as he used the head of his cane to lift the top of a crate, glowering into it as he surveyed its contents- or lack thereof for that matter. It was the eighth crate he had opened on this particular venture and nothing of interest to show for it. The first five were partially full with various items, none of which were of any use to them. The rest of them were empty, nothing but dirt and grime from the sloppy mud road that led to the compound that the barn sat upon, nestled deep in the forest outside of the city.  

“The source I have is reliable, they said it should be here,” Kaz snapped out, letting the lid drop with a hollow thud. Dust puffed around him, tiny particles glinting in the moonlight coming in through the gaps in the wide slats of the barn wall, shooting beams across the otherwise unlit building. The moon was full and bright tonight, the use of a lantern unnecessary for getting around except for deep in the shadows. 

“And what, pray tell, did they mean by ‘it’? What are we even looking for?” Jesper turned, throwing his hands in the air.

Kaz turned and shot him a piercing glare, his brow downturned in annoyance. “You’ll know it when you see it, okay? Trust me on this.”

Jesper dropped his hands, his shoulders slouching forward as he threw his head back. “Where did Inej go anyways?”

“Checking the house and smaller out buildings. Shouldn’t be long before she joins us.”

“We’re going to be here all night, aren’t we?” 

“We’re here as long as it takes.” 

“Fine. But the next three rounds at the club are on your coin.” Jesper snapped his gloved fingers and pointed at Kaz, cocking his head and raising an eyebrow, his expression clear that this wasn’t a negotiable option.

“So be it. Check the crates in the loft would you?”

“Always gotta send someone else to the precarious heights and dangerous situations, don’t you?”

Kaz turned to him, giving a pointed look to the ladder as he tapped the corvid head of the cane against his chest.

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” Jesper took a step back as he started to turn towards the ladder.

The world seemed to focus into a pinprick for Kaz as Jesper turned, a glint of silver flashing near his ankles caught his eye as Jesper moved through the moonlight. 

“Jesper, wait!” Kaz yelled, lunging forward to grab the collar of Jespers coat, snatching him backwards before he could finish his step. He heard a faint ping as the tripwire popped apart, the scraping of metal, or was that flint on steel? He wasn’t sure, but he definitely knew the sound that followed, the crackle of burning gunpowder sputtering across the floor. He didn’t spare time to see how much time they had or where the line of powder led, instead he used the momentum of his yank on Jespers coat, propelling the gunslinger around and then shoving him forward in the other direction, away from the general direction of the gunpowder and towards the door. 

Jesper stumbled, barely able to put his feet in the right order to catch himself with the way Kaz was throwing him around. He finally caught himself and took off running, feeling like he was dragging Kaz with him as the thief kept a tight grip on his jacket collar. 

Kaz knew they weren’t going to make it. He could hear the violent reaction of the gunpowder snapping across the floor become muffled as it reached its destination. They weren’t going to make it. But he could do his best to make sure someone got out of here. 

He lunged forward, tackling Jesper around his torso,  forcing him to fall forwards so he crumpled under Kaz's weight. One hand around Jespers waist and the other over his head so he couldn’t raise it, Kaz spread himself over the gunslinger just as the world exploded behind them. 

Searing pain ripped through the back of his shoulders, the force of the explosion threw him even further and his head slammed into a support pillar of the barn. 

Everything went black and he knew no more. 

~~~

Everything hurt. 

Jesper groaned as he regained awareness. He didn’t think he had been out for long, maybe a few seconds, but the impact had been harsh. His whole body ached, squeezed into a tight ball as he was. His knees were pressed to his chest, one arm trapped underneath him where he was flopped onto his side. He could feel a weight against nearly every angle of his body, wrapped around him like a warm and heavy blanket. 

A warm breath ghosted against his neck and he tried to open his eyes, wincing as he attempted to uncurl his legs. The muscles protested but he managed to push himself to his knees. He hadn’t even realized the weight on the back of his head was a hand until it flopped to the floor, limp and wrapped in black leather.

“Kaz?” Jesper coughed as smoke made its way into his lungs, cast off from the flames licking at the rubble of the barn around them. The support beam in front of them still stood and a section of the mezzanine from above had nearly fallen on them, half of it held up by the beam so they were tucked under a dangerous lean-to. He tried to clear his throat but only managed to inhale more smoke, his eyes starting to burn as well. “Kaz, are you okay?”

He received no response to his query. He twisted around, searching for where he had felt Kaz slip off of him when he moved. He found Kaz was slumped on his side, his face lax and pale in the flickering light of the fire around them save for a shadow down the left side of his face, a shiny and dark crimson smear that started at his hairline and followed the angles of his face. Blood.

“Kaz, wake up. We gotta get out of here,” Jesper coughed again. He placed a hand under Kaz’s head, lifting his face towards him. “Kaz!” He yelled as loud as smoke infested lungs would allow, shaking him gently with no reaction.

“Alright then,” he huffed, shuffling around in the tight space so he could get behind Kaz, “You’re probably going to hate this, but let it be known that I tried to wake you up and I don’t exactly have another option, asides from leaving you here and that is not happening-”

The words died in his throat and fear bubbled up as he caught sight of Kaz’s back. His jacket was smouldering in places, flames dancing across the fine material in others. Jesper frantically tore his own jacket off and threw it over the flames, hastily slapping it down to smother the fire. He held it there for a few seconds, gasping for breath until he felt sure it would be extinguished. He cautiously removed his coat. His throat tightened and he had to clap a hand over his mouth as the contents of his stomach threatened to reappear. “Oh saints, Kaz…”

Most of the back of Kaz’s coat was gone, as were chunks of his vest and shirt, the fact he wore so many layers might have actually saved him for the most part but not enough. Wherever the clothing had burnt away were angry burns pocked with wounds that weeped blood around pieces of shrapnel buried in his flesh.

Jesper clenched his eyes shut and tried to control his breathing, he could feel his hands starting to shake and that wouldn’t help either of them right now. Lifting Kaz in any way that touched his back was out of the question so he shuffled around to his front again, grabbing his wrist instead and hauling him into a seated position, ducking his head under Kaz’s arm against his side and shouldering him in the stomach to drape the limp body across both shoulders, holding on tight to his arm and leg to keep him from falling off. 

“Thank saints you’re even lighter than you look,” he huffed as he got his feet under him, snatching Kaz’s cane from the floor before carefully standing up. 

It took time to get out, awkward as it was carrying a body over his shoulders while picking his way through rubble and fire. He was trying to inhale as little as possible, trying to keep the smoke out of his lungs, which just made them burn even worse. 

He barely made it out of the front door when the mezzanine collapsed, a burst of sparks showering around them as Jesper stumbled. He caught himself on one knee, unwilling to let go of Kaz as he tottered dangerously. Just when he thought he would lose the battle with gravity and they would both tumble to the dirt, a hand caught him around the chest, keeping  him upright. 

“Jesper!” Inej was right in front of him, he had to squint to see her. His eyes burned but he couldn’t let go of Kaz to wipe them. 

“His back,” Jesper managed to cough out, “be careful with his back.”

“Okay, put him down, I got him.” 

He felt the weight on his shoulder shift and held on tighter, panicking for a second before realizing Inej had snaked her arm under Kaz’s chest to help get him on the ground again. Once his burden was gone Jesper fell forward, catching himself on his elbows as he coughed hard enough to gag into the dirt. Every breath he managed to drag in felt like gravel in his throat, rattling through his spasming chest.

When the coughing started to abate and he managed more wheezing breaths between fits, he felt gentle hands on his back and he rested his forehead against his arm. He managed to gasp out “Kaz…”

“He is alive but in bad shape, we need to get him to a healer.”

He nodded before pushing himself back to his knees, turning so he was next to Kaz again. Inej had managed to get him on his side so his back wasn’t touching anything. Jesper avoided looking at the mess that was his back, instead focusing on his face. He was dirty with soot and blood, and a shock of hair had fallen forward onto his face, obscuring the wound and brushing against his cheek. Jesper pushed it back and rubbed his thumb over Kaz’s forehead, frowning at the lack of reaction the contact received. It was so unnatural to see his brow smooth and relaxed, unburdened by troubles.

Inej’s hand touched his elbow and he suddenly turned to her, grasping her shoulder as he inspected her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I was in the other building.” She cleared her throat and turned her eyes down to Kaz, but Jesper could see her eyes were red. She had already thought them dead, which a look at the flaming pile of barn behind them would have been a reasonable conclusion to come to.

“We’re going to be okay,” he said. “He’s going to be okay.” He squeezed her shoulder once before letting go and pushing himself to his feet. “I’ll find the cart.”

It took him precious minutes to find the horses and the cart tied to them, spooked as they were by the violence of the explosion. He calmed them, shushing them quietly with gentle strokes. They trembled under his hands, he didn’t blame them at all because he could feel his own hands starting to shake again too. “Calm, calm. Shhhh.” He whispered, though whether he was talking just to the horses or himself too was up for debate.  

By the time he managed to lead the horses back towards where he left Inej and Kaz, Inej was back on her feet, looking like she was about to come searching for him.

“They were spooked.” He said in explanation and she nodded in response, already getting into position to assist. Between the two of them, they got Kaz into the back of the simple wooden cart that they had driven out and within minutes they were back on the road, Jesper at the reins and Inej sitting cross legged next to Kaz on the floor.

~~~

Nearly an hour later they pulled in front of the inn that they had hired a room at for the night.

“Do you know anyone in this city, Inej?” Jesper asked her quietly. 

“Not personally,” she shook her head, “but I do know there is a healer here somewhere, I will inquire.” She spared a look at Kaz before hopping out of the cart and hurrying into the inn. 

Jesper stood from the driver's seat and stepped over it, into the back of the cart to crouch behind Kaz. Inej had positioned him so he was on his side, the best they could do for his injuries with no supplies along with them. He hadn’t made a sound the entire ride back to town and that worried Jesper. He reached over him, placing a hand in front of Kaz’s face, biting down on his bottom lip and holding his own breath until he felt the faint movement of air on his hand as Kaz exhaled. 

“Once again, you’re going to hate this, and I’ll apologize about it later, but if you’re not going to get up, I’m going to have to get you upstairs somehow.”

Jesper went to his front, getting his arms under Kaz’s armpits and pulling him to a seated position before gently and awkwardly shifting him towards the back of the cart. He jumped down and slipped an arm around Kaz’s waist where the least amount of damage was. Most of the burns were across the back of his shoulders, starting just where his neck and shoulders met and growing less severe towards the bottom of his shoulder blades, spanning the entire width of his torso and down the back of his arms. 

The change in position caused Kaz’s head to flop against Jesper’s shoulder and he heard a faint groan. “Kaz?!” Jesper whispered, bringing the hand that wasn’t around his waist up to touch his face, tilting the thief’s head back so he could see. “Kaz, can you hear me?”

Kaz’s eyes fluttered open and Jesper could see how hard it must have been for him, fighting his way back to consciousness. His eyes were cloudy and he looked confused, scared even, but too weak to do anything. He didn’t seem to recognize Jesper at all.

"Pl-please," he pleaded with Jesper. His voice sounded so small and terrified. "Please, just let me go."

“It’s okay, you’re alright, I’m trying to help,” Jesper kept his voice low, trying to sound comforting. Every other comfort instinct of his had to be thrown out the window when dealing with Kaz, his hands ached to gently touch his face, to push his hair back and just touch him in a way that would bring comfort to Jesper. 

But even the arm around his waist, his head lolling against Jespers shoulder, even just being a physical support was a forbidden line that he had already crossed, it hurt him so much to see Kaz in pain and to be contributing even further to that discomfort even if his intentions were to help. 

Kaz twisted against his shoulder, trying to squirm away from Jesper. One hand came up to push against his chest and just that movement brought out a strangled cry, his eyes turned white as they rolled back in his head and he went limp in Jespers arms.

“I’m sorry,” Jesper whispered, pushing back the lock of hair that had fallen over his face.

~~~

Inej took a deep, steadying breath as she entered the pub that made up the main floor of their accommodations. Tables and chairs were scattered around, most of which were empty at this time of night, and a large counter to the right where a big man with a bushy red beard poured drinks for the handful of patrons still sitting at the bar. He nodded at Inej as she entered, recognizing her from earlier. When she approached the bar rather than turning up the narrow staircase to the rooms on the upper floor he raised an eyebrow and moved to the end of the bar to meet her.

“You seem troubled,” he said in greeting. 

She lowered her voice, not wanting to bring attention. “We are in need of a healer. Does Eleanora still reside nearby?”

He gave a curt nod, rubbing his hands with a towel. “She does, not far. I will send my son to retrieve her and bring her to your room. There is an entrance to the rooms from the back if you’d rather privacy from prying eyes.”

She dipped her head in thanks before slipping out the door again, where she found Jesper had Kaz sitting more or less upright on the back of the cart, ready to drape the thief over his shoulders again. She whirled around as the door slammed behind her, a young boy with red hair stumbling over his own feet as he looked at them, his wide eyes catching on the unconscious man that Jesper supported. He gave Inej the same curt nod that the innkeeper had and took off down the street. 

“Around back, let’s get him upstairs.”

The back stairs were even narrower than the ones from the front which made progress slow and awkward. Jesper supported most of Kaz's lanky form while Inej climbed the stairs behind them. Jesper doubted she could catch both of them if he slipped and they fell backwards onto her, but he trusted she would catch Kaz so he wasn't injured any further at least. 

By the time they made it to the room, Inej heard a commotion at the bottom of the steps and the red headed boy came bounding up the stairs. "Mz. Eleanora is coming, she wasn't far behind me."

Inej nodded in thanks and shut the door as he tried to crane his neck to see around her. A boy his age didn't need to see the bloody wounds that marred Kaz's flesh.

Jesper was standing in the middle of the room with Kaz more or less standing with him, holding him up with arms under Kaz's armpits and letting him slump against Jespers chest.

"She's going to want to see the wounds, we need to get his clothes off. Use one of your knives, cut it off. His jacket's a loss anyways."

Jesper could only stand and hold Kaz upright while watching as Inej carefully slipped her blade under the fabric, slicing through the back of the collar and moving towards the sleeves. Every cut was an attempt to keep fabric from touching skin in the removal process.

He felt it moments before Kaz started to come around again, every muscle in his body going tense as a groan hissed out from between clenched teeth. His forehead was resting against Jespers collarbone but when the gunslinger looked down he could see ropey muscles flexing around the sharp angle of his jaw. 

"Inej stop," he warned moments before Kaz suddenly threw himself backwards, a mad scramble to get out of Jespers arms, to get away from the hands touching his body. 

"Kaz, it's me! It's Jesper, it's ok, I've got you," Jesper rambled, trying to keep his voice as calm and comforting as possible, which was difficult as the other man struggled against him. "Inej is here too, we're trying to help."

Inej smartly didn't try touching him, standing back and tucking her blade away again. She had cut away enough fabric already that they would be able to remove his top without issue, but she didn’t dare try to take any of his clothing while he was already panicking.

"Kaz, you need to calm down, you're hurt," Jesper said.

"Let go of me," Kaz whimpered. His hands curled towards his own throat to keep from touching Jesper and he pushed outwards with his elbows, trying to leverage Jespers hands off of him.

Inej threw the scratchy quilt off of one of the beds, revealing the relatively soft bed sheets underneath and frantically waved at Jesper to set the injured man down. The beds were not much more than a metal frame with a latticework of straps that supported a thin mattress, not the most comfortable of beds but fine for a night or two when needed.

It took effort, their boss was gangly but stronger than he looked and he fought hard, especially when injured and afraid. His eyes remained closed as he writhed in Jesper’s arms, frantically trying to push away from him even as his legs refused to bear his own weight, the only barely conscious thought being the need to get the hands off.

“Kaz, please!” Jesper cried out, flinching as gloved hands scrabbled against his face, blindly searching for something to grasp, whether that would be his eyes, hair, or throat, whichever they found first.

He tried to keep moving Kaz towards the cot while being weakly assaulted, determined to not drop Kaz right there in the middle of the floor. 

In the struggle he didn’t hear the door open behind him until he felt a slight thrum in the air and someone quietly commanded “sleep” right beside him, a hand reaching around his shoulder, one slender finger gently tapped Kaz in the middle of his forehead. Jespers stomach turned as for the second time that night he watched Kaz’s eyes roll back in his head and he fell bonelessly limp into Jespers arms, almost slipping completely out of them before Jesper tightened his grip.

Inej was there in a flash to help support the injured man, one of her blades glinting in the light as she resumed the task of removing the burnt and bloodied clothing. A couple quick and efficient slices and they were able to pull the material away from his back and arms, the ruined clothing being left in a pile on the floor to be dealt with later. 

“Get him on the bed.”

With a grunt Jesper managed to shuffle the last couple steps towards the bed and gingerly lowered Kaz onto the sheets, Inej slipping in beside him to support Kaz's head as it flopped off of Jespers shoulder. Together they positioned him on his front, Inej moving the pillow away so he wasn't stifled by it and wedging it under one of his arms. 

They barely had him situated before the healer, Eleanora, was there, her skirts puffing out as she sank to her knees at the side of the bed and summoning her powers with a twist of her hands. She lightly traced around the edges of the angry and blistering skin. 

“There is a lot of damage,” Eleanora said quietly. “I will need one of you to help remove this shrapnel before I can work on everything.”

Inej glanced at Jesper, already knowing he likely wouldn’t be able to stomach it. He stood frozen next to the foot of the bed, one hand on his hip and the other clamped aggressively over his mouth. There was a sickly pallor to his skin and his thumb and forefinger were pressed hard into the spaces below his cheekbones. It was like he couldn’t tear his eyes off of Kaz.

She touched his elbow, startling him out of his trance and he gasped, his hand breaking away from his face to latch onto her shoulder. She kept her hand on his arm, squeezing it gently. 

“Sit down. Before you fall down.” She said, guiding him to the bed next to Kaz’s. The cots were close enough to each other that if the two men sat across from each other their knees would be touching.

He flopped onto it, bracing his elbows against his knees and resolutely determined not to look anywhere but at Kaz’s face as the other two worked on his back. 

Inej perched herself on the edge of the bed, trying to leave a space between Kaz’s hip and her own. She already felt guilty for all the times they have had to touch Kaz without him being able to consent, and she knew he wouldn’t have even if he was consciously able to do so. 

She tried to keep from thinking about that as she started plucking out the pieces of shrapnel, mostly slivers of wood from the crates, barrels, and barn that had surrounded them when the blast occurred. There were a lot more than she had been expecting, a variety of sizes. She dropped them on the floor by her feet as she worked, another thing to clean up later. 

There were two bigger pieces near his right shoulder blade that each began to splinter as she tried to pull on them, threatening to leave part of themselves behind in his flesh if she wasn't careful. She winced before pulling out one of her blades yet again, using the sharp tip to make the hole in his skin just a bit bigger in order to get every sliver of the wood out. 

She glanced up at Eleanora, who nodded in approval with her lips pressed tight together before she focused her attention on those newly bleeding wounds. 

“He’s hurting.”

Inej looked at Jesper in surprise when he spoke, so quietly she didn’t catch what he said. “What?”

“He’s in pain, look at him.” Jesper gestured towards Kaz’s face.

He was right. Kaz’s face was twisted into a deep grimace, his jaw tight and sweat starting to bead on his brow. The hand upon the pillow that was wedged under his arm was clenched tightly, grasping the edge of the pillow in a death grip.

“The wounds are significant,” Eleanora said, not taking her eyes or hands away from the task at hand. The smaller injuries that had marred the backs of his arms were already back to a healthy pink. “Some of these burns are severe enough he may not  even feel them, but as I heal them the sensation may return. It’ll feel worse before it feels better.”

Inej felt her breath catch in her throat at the same time Jesper choked on a sob. She grasped his knee and immediately his hand was on top of hers, desperately holding onto her. 

“He would hate this. He hates being touched, it’s like a visceral reaction whenever someone so much as accidentally bumps against him.” Jesper started to ramble, unable to keep his mouth shut in his own distress. “Even as friends he doesn’t let us touch him.”

Eleanora looked between them, noticing now how neither of them had laid hands on him since getting him onto the bed. Even removing the shrapnel Inej had been so careful to avoid touching him, only using the tip of her blade when necessary. Eleanora pulled her hands back slightly, leaving an air gap between her fingers and his skin. 

“I didn’t know, thank you for telling me. It’s not necessary for me to make contact when healing but some people find it comforting.”

Inej nodded and smiled at Eleanora, understanding where she was coming from but grateful for her accommodating his needs. With the shrapnel removed, she tucked her blade away and slipped off the cot and onto the other next to Jesper, carefully looking him over to see if there were any injuries he hadn’t fessed up to yet. He seemed visibly shaken but otherwise fine. He had a couple coughing fits on the way back into town but she hadn't heard anything more in a while. His eyes were locked on Kaz’s face still, watching him like a hawk for any sign of awareness. 

His breath caught for a moment as Kaz’s eyelids fluttered. “Kaz?”

Kaz whimpered in response, slow and painstakingly opening his eyes just a tiny amount. He blinked at them, his eyes hazy and clouded with pain. Inej reached out and placed her hand on the mattress right near his hand, just in front of his face where he looked slightly confused at it before focusing on his companions' faces again. 

“Oh saints, his head,” Jesper whispered, reaching out and hovering his hand over the area where blood had been seeping out along his hairline. Crimson still encrusted the side of his head where it had dried what felt like hours ago, now pressed into the sheets with how his head was positioned. 

Eleanora shifted her attention there for a minute, making motions as if she was pushing her magic into Kaz’s skull. As the wound sealed up, Jesper and Inej could see when he fully came aware, his eyes clearing slightly. He was still tense with pain, but the confusion when he looked at them was gone at least, replaced with recognition as he looked up at his Crows watching over him. 

~~~

He hadn’t expected to wake up again. But when Kaz came back to awareness, he wasn’t sure that he even wanted to. 

Every nerve in his back screamed as though the fire still burned upon it, the pain causing muscles to tense and spasm against his will and amplifying it, resulting in a never ending spiral of call and response of torment. 

Something slipped into his head, an odd sensation of a chill inside his skull and it was like he had awoken with his eyes already open, as though he had already been awake but not aware of being awake for a moment or two. 

As his eyes came into focus he could see white sheets that were pressed against his cheek. Right in front of his face he found Inej’s hand and he focused his gaze to travel up her arm, to her face set in a mask of barely concealed concern. Next to her sat Jesper, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, not even trying to disguise his concern. Jespers lips twitched into a sad smile that didn’t reach his watery eyes.

Kaz’s hands ached, clenched tightly as they were but he recognized the familiar feeling of the soft leather that hugged them, grateful that they hadn’t been removed. He could tell the layers of clothing he wore like an armour around his torso were gone though.

That chilled sensation that brought back his awareness now traced over his back, momentarily cutting a trail of relief through the searing pain. The pain was so great that the relief was often short lived, but it never stopped moving, skimming along the edges of areas that just felt like… nothing. 

He took a deep breath, which caught in his throat for a moment as the movement of his rib cage pulled on muscles that protested vehemently and he had to close his eyes against the pain. When he opened them again, Inej had shifted off of the other bed and knelt on the floor to be closer to him. Her hand never moved from the edge of the bed, not moving any closer, which he knew she wouldn’t. 

Slowly, he relaxed his hand, letting go of what he realized was a pillow that he had been holding so tightly to and reached for the edge of the mattress, curling his fingers around it mere centimeters away from Inej’s hand. Close, but not touching. 

He felt at peace in that moment. Knowing two of his most cherished Crows were with him, watching over him. Trust didn’t come easy for him, but if there were any two people he could rely on, it would be Inej and Jesper.

The pain flared up again and his whole body tensed, once again amplifying everything. His hand clenched and he wound up with a fistful of bed sheets, his eyes screwing shut with a strangled whimper. 

He vaguely heard Jesper begging someone to do something, he’s in pain, though Kaz couldn’t say who he had spoken to. 

He didn’t have an opportunity to find out as the cold sensation returned to his head, and with a brief burst of relief he succumbed to the black again.

[macravishedbymactavish]

Take Me Back // To the Night We Met Non-Spoiler Drabbles (Alex Keller x F!Reader)

| Blog HQ | Modern Warfare 2019 Masterlist | Series Masterlist |

This series has been kicking around in my head for months, and the end chapters I have written for both parts are both glaring and begging me to write the rest. So until I can rub my two braincells together and get some inspiration (when I'm not working) I thought I'd throw out some random, non-specific fluffy bits.

No TW warnings here, just fluffy interactions and Alex being flustered.

"So, I can save you a seat" Alex offered, eyes filling with hope and excitement that faltered the moment you raised an amused brow at him. This was the end your first mission together, your team running alongside his for the last month and a half.

Glancing back over to where your team was packing their things, you jabbed a thumb back toward them. "I'm actually going with my squad, but thanks anyway?"

You shouldn't have found it so endearing and cute watching redness spread across his cheeks and ears. Face falling in realization. Rubbing his neck, he brushed it off with an awkward "of course, fly safe"

"See you around though, right?" You asked, before jogging over to to join your team. Almost missing the giddy look on his face.

Almost.

Wandering through the base, chatting with one of your squadmates about your plans (or rather, lack thereof) for the weekend; you didn't notice the familiar face making its way toward you in the crowd.

"Hey you" he bumped his elbow against yours, falling in step with the two of you. "You're not done putting up with me yet" he teased, smiling over at you.

Rolling your eyes with a playful scoff, you feigned annoyance. Making a comment about never getting rid of him, then.

"Never, ever. I'm like a bad cold, catch me once and….you know what can I try again" he laughed, shaking his head.

"No, no. Keep going, that was really smooth" you teased, watching as he waved a hand in your direction. Refusing to make eye contact.

The three of you continued walking through base, making light conversation until your squadmate excused herself. The two of you walked in silence for a minute, until Alex cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I promise I'm not as…" he gestured toward himself, "whatever this is, normally. I'd love to show you the real side of me"

Groaning, you rolled over to look at your phone. The 0200 alarm ringing. A small, sleepy smile pulling at the corners of your lips as a phone call came through a few minutes after.

"Good morning, my devilishly handsome boyfriend" you teased, voice thick with sleep. Shifting under the covers, fighting off the pull of sleep for just a bit longer.

"Good very early morning to you too, my equally as beautiful girlfriend" he responded smoothly. Slipping directly into details about his day, and how much longer he's expecting to be gone for.

Humming along, pulling the shirt of his you stole closer. Your eyes falling shut as you listened to him talk, voice slightly distorted from the phone speaker.

"You're about to fall asleep, aren't you?" He chuckled, not seeing your sleepy nod as the warmth of your bed and his tone pulled you further from consciousness.

"Go back to sleep, I love you"

"I have this song memorized" he smiled over to you, fingers laced with yours as he continued driving. Looking over at him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows you weren't convinced.

Glancing between you and the road, his smile grew as he chuckled. "What?"

Pausing the music, you shook your head slightly. "You don't strike me as a Bonnie Tyler fan is all"

"Don't need to be a fan to enjoy a classic" he countered, lifting your hands to gesture at the radio. "I'll prove it to you, restart the song"

Reaching over to intertwine your fingers with his, you softly teased: "already backing out on your promises, Killer? Ouch"

Rolling his eyes at the nickname, he glanced at you with a lopsided smirk.

"I'll gladly be keeping one of them tonight"

General Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @v1naco @bowtruckleninja

Alex Keller Taglist: @glitterypirateduck @deadbranch @gcing-back-to-505

[thecomfywriter]

Writing Tension

Hey! It’s your girl— @thecomfywriter— back with another post. Apparently, an anticipated post :) Fr though, before we start, I want to thank you all for the warm welcome and kind comments since coming back to this account. It makes me really happy to see these posts help people, and hopefully I can continue to be a resource for you guys, or even share my own works too! I started doing writing prompts on my instagram, so that’s always an option. 

Anyways, today’s post is about writing tension. Perhaps one of the greatest devices you can use as a writer, as it allows you to utilize the narrative to grip your reader, immerse them into your story, and have them truly feel for your characters and the events. Because of its power, it's also not the easiest thing to navigate. Thus, this post is here to help, as rather a launching point or hopefully a guide on how to implement and work tension into your story. 

Before we get started, here are all my socials. Do pop on, give it a visit, spread the love. And if you find my posts particularly helpful and you want to show your appreciation, you can tip this post &/or buy me a coffee using the link down below. 

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Tension is a subdevice of foreshadowing, in which readers are made to anticipate the worst occurring and/or face a conflict. Tension adds mood, depth, atmosphere, and engagement with your story. It is a tactic employed to cause emotional distress to your readers and characters alike. There are multiple different facets to developing tension successfully, each with its own purpose in crafting your perfect narrative. Not every story is going to need all of these to build tension but every good story with proper tension that leaves your readers unable to put the book down because, “what’s going to happen next” will have at least more than one.

Conflict: 

The foundational aspect of tension is conflict. Your character is experiencing a tense chapter, or the narrative has an increased sense of tension in it because there has been an introduction of conflict, whether that be through internal or external forces. Internal conflict may result in emotional distress and the reader's anticipation of when those bottled up, unresolved emotions will come to fruition and make a muck of character relations (as an example). Or, it can cause the retrograde degeneration of a character’s arc. Meanwhile, external conflict gives your characters a focus, an opposition to combat. Conflict is a natural breeding ground for tension because it festers resistance and opposition. Depending on the type of conflict within your story, the effect and consequences will be different. However, some things to bear in mind for each are such: 

Internal conflict: 

Internal conflict is the idea of “man vs. self,” in which your character is their own antagonist. When dealing with internal conflict, understanding the character’s motivations (or lack thereof), their personality, their morality/values, and their perspective is key to understanding their reaction and thus the outcome of this conflict. Personally, I love using internal conflict for building tension, because it creates a sense of dichotomy and indecision that puts the reader in a sense of discomfort. It’s powerful because it's uncomfortable, and it's uncomfortable because it's confrontational. It requires the characters to face the most undesirable, the worst, deepest, darkest, most heinous parts of themselves and question how it aligns or rejects against their self-perception. When writing internal conflict, the tension should arise predominantly from the character’s emotions and their struggle, putting them at a crossroads within themselves. Here’s a brief outline of each of the types of internal conflict:

Religion/faith: your character is questioning their spiritual stance 

Desires: these can be regular old desires or sexual ones, but your character is left repressing or struggling to accept/control their untamed/scandalous/unacceptable desires 

Morality: your character is questioning/forced to confront their sense of morality (or lack thereof), usually inspired by an external conflict

Identity: your character is attempting &/or struggling to form an image of themselves OR they are struggling to accept their self-image, typically in contrast to the image/identity they desire or have been prescribed to

I want to do another post on identity because my sister made this brilliant presentation on the types of identity for her global health class and I think it can really be helpful in understanding how to forge your character’s identity in respect to the rest of the story/society

Love/guilt: these are two of the most powerful emotions a character can feel, specifically emotions that drive action, which is why I grouped them together. Also because they’re often connected, whether it be the internal conflict of rejecting love, repressing it, being in denial, trying to force or reject it, or feeling the guilt of lost love, unrequited love, unethical love, or hurting a lover. Or, of course, the entire ballpark of dealing with guilt itself. Guilt is the needle for a person’s moral compass; remember that when exploring the dynamics of a character's internal struggle when it comes to guilt, regret and shame. 

Existential: the character must face themselves and come to a decision about their purpose/the meaning of life. This type of conflict typically involves an internal struggle against what the character knows or is prescribed to believe versus what they themselves truly find meaning in. 

Interpersonal: kind of like identity and existential, interpersonal conflict is a struggle in which your character opposes their role or their identity and its place within a larger context. For example, your character grappling with their sense of identity versus the societal norms and expectations is considered interpersonal because it goes beyond their own self-image, but instead of how their identity contributes to a larger scale. 

External Conflict: 

This type of conflict is your classic, “man vs other,” in which your character is opposing a force beyond themselves. When dealing with external conflict, setting up a basis for motivation for each party and allowing your readers to understand why these motivations clash is key in developing character intentions, which keeps your story consistent and is also a helpful reference tool for areas where you want to add tension. There are also a plethora of external conflict types, which I will outline here: 

Antagonist: this is a character who doesn’t necessarily have to be a villain, but they do have to be in opposition to your character. For example, your character’s antagonist can be the tyrant who conquers and enslaves tribes and cities of these ancient lands, or they can be the crush of your character’s love interest. The crush didn’t do anything wrong. They’re not a bad person. They’re just in the way of the protagonist’s goals in the story, which in this story, would be to woo and romance their love interest. 

Nature: natural disasters. The world is ending. Radiation. Alternate planets with weird, mystical, and dangerous wildlife. Surviving the outdoors. 

Society: character is combating against society, whether it be norms, authority, or the community itself.

Technology: character against technology that has gone too far. Typically in sci-fi, futuristic settings. Think AI, robots, nuclear bombs/weapons/warfare… the list goes on. You can be so creative with this one, I love it. Technically, Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein” was character vs. technology. 

Fate: character is trying to prevent, oppose, or deter a certain inevitability or destiny they’ve been prescribed to. Think of oracles or prophecies, maybe even soulmates for romance books. I always like to think of Oedipus as the classic example.  

For example, character X has lost their father in a lynching after his father spoke up against the corrupt government that was leaching off their already struggling and vulnerable village. Thus, X has a strong vehemence towards the corruption, the government, and specifically the authority + everyone involved in the lynching. His motivation lies in his grief (which, in it of itself is an internal conflict, as he struggles to process the traumatic incident and cope with the violent and public murder of his parent) and thus may motivate his desire to dismantle the government and abdicate the leader that ordered the lynching to begin with. In this example, there are 2 external conflicts. Conflict 1 is the authority who ordered the lynching (antagonist) and conflict 2 is the society that endorsed the corruption that his father was rebelling against to begin with. Your character’s motivation may be to honour his father’s memory by dismantling both corrupt regimes, and his antagonist's motivation may be to silence any acts of rebellion in order to maintain governorship, power, and retain authority. These motivations, when outlined, are in direct opposition to each other, and being able to recognize that can help you as the writer facilitate scenarios in which those motivations and oppositions are exacerbated. By forcing your characters to make a difficult decision that reveals their intentions or puts their intentions on blast, you create tension in the story (i.e. if X had to choose between telling the authorities of a near-broken dam that would flood their village to save the innocents at the cost of increasing their hold on the population by embellishing their reputation, or allow the dam to break, killing the innocents and forcing the authority to go under higher investigation that would rule them out of power. What does your character value more?)

Building the atmosphere: 

Okay, lemme explain what I mean about this because I feel like this is a common trope in horror that always has me shitting BRICKS. Basically, there are elements of horror (that's the next point I’ll be explaining, fret not), in which one of them is the overdescription of a scene. Essentially, I like to think of it as, say your character is in the middle of a super tense scene. They’re alone in the house late at night. They live in a cabin wood area, no neighbours for a couple of kilometers. Their phone—blasted! They forgot to put it on charging. The hairs on their spine are rising. An odd sense of urgency has replaced their relaxing movie night when multiple creaking floorboards sound from upstairs. Your character slithers into the kitchen, grabbing the first knife they see, trying to make as little noise as possible as they slowly trek up the stairs. One hand is on the railing, the other raised with their knife ready to stab. Their eyes are darting. Their senses are heightened. Shadows from outside cast onto each step in non-symmetrical patterns, making each step more difficult to see than the last. The top of the stairs is  a void. The wooden banister is the only thing illuminated by the shreds of moonlight, and it reflects as though polished. What is that? On the railing? Why does it seem wet? 

Your character checks their hand, realizing it too has been trailing over a sticky fluid. Sticky and viscous. They can’t see in the shadows. They don’t want to look down, even for the second it would take to check their hand. Do they look? Do they keep going forward? 

A creak sound behind them. They spin around, slicing the knife into the air. The whoosh of it cutting empty space rattles their bones. It was only their own foot behind them. Though, when they look back up towards the banister, they notice the railing isn’t reflecting as much as it used to. Whatever liquid had stained it had matted to dullness. 

This is stupid. I should be leaving. Your character pivots swiftly, rushing down the stairs, when suddenly, a firm hand covers their mouth and yanks them back. 

In that uncalled for example, the environment is built through perceiving the entire scene in the character’s frantic and limited vision. We are following their frantic eyes, processing all the information and observations they make, whether they make conclusions with the observations, or set them aside for later use. I dunno what it is about this device, but it gives me the heebie jeebies everytime because DAMN stop describing the shadows in the corner of the room and the chills up your arms at the brisk wind that shouldn’t be indoors considering you locked all the windows. I dunno, that kind of writing puts me on edge, and that’s exactly the point. 

Elements of Horror: 

Briefly, I will outline some of the elements of horror and perhaps make a more detailed post on it separately, if y'all would like that. 

Overdescription 

Being vague with crucial details (limiting the characters and readers POV)

Loss of senses 

Overstimulation (creates a sense of anxiety)

Emphasis on a character’s reaction to the events around them // bodily fear (the pit in her stomach clawed into her chest, lodging itself in her throat. A sick acidity overcame her in waves as the sharpness of his fingernails traced along her collarbones. His hot breath feathered the cold skin of her neck, rendering her paralyzed within his clutches) 

Varied sentence structure:

The actual construction of your sentences influences the tone and fluidity of your writing // the scene. General rule of thumb: if you want to draw out a scene, use longer, connected sentences to build anticipation, anxiety, and atmosphere. On the contrary, if you want to blast your readers with a quicker, faster pace, short sentences can jar your readers and give the “loss of sensation” effect to help stun them.

Personalization: 

This is the idea of creating stakes for your characters by making whatever event is occurring to them personal. When thinking of personalization, the key questions to ask yourselves are:

What does (character) have to lose?

Why is losing (thing being lost) significant to (character)/the narrative?

How will (character) change as a person/the narrative change its course if (thing being lost) was lost?

Why is (insert character goal) worth the risk of losing Y? 

What other risks is (character) willing to take for (insert character goal)? How do these risks interact with each other?  

What are the consequences of these risks/decisions/actions? Consider emotional and narrative consequences. 

By personalizing each risk to your characters, you are upping the stakes of their goals, thus increasing the tension because there is more of a gamble to it now. NOTE: in order for this to work, your readers must truly believe that real consequences exist in your story. Not half-assed. Real, proper, committed consequences. Don’t give your character this deadly illness only to immediately present them with a cure. Don’t give them this life altering injury and have them heal within a week. Do NOT give them the easy way out. If you want to increase your stakes, show your readers you are willing to make your characters hurt. Show them that real consequences exist. Your characters, no matter how darling they are to you, should not be immune to the laws of your world. When in doubt, always remember the genius case of Ned Stark— he was the classic hero protagonist who everyone loved and rooted for. And then he died, and he stayed dead, because the story had consequences and he took unforgivable risks. An added weight, a sense of gravity was added to every character’s decision and the reader's perception of safety after that, because if Ned wasn’t safe, no one was. 

Readers on edge: 

Taking away your reader's sense of certainty is one surefire way to build a source of tension and anxiety, as it removes the sense of security that allows them to otherwise remain comfortable in the narrative. By decreasing the sense of security, you increase the tension within the narrative, allowing it to drive the plot forward and increase reader engagement. It also forces the reader to question everything. Will they make it out alive? How did she escape? Who was on the stairs? What was the mysterious reflecting liquid? What happens next? 

If you are able to keep your reader asking these kinds of questions, you are able to maintain their apprehension, which seeks to lock them in and truly sell your story as immersive. 

How do you pull this off? When building tense scenes, consider yourself in the character's shoes. What in that situation would make you feel secure? What would make you feel like you were aware of what was going on? That you could rely on your wit and foresight to help you in your quest? What would give you confidence? 

Now take that away. 

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Anyways y’all, I’m spent. Hope this helps! Feel free to suggest more posts through my asks and inbox. Until then, I’ll be working on some super in-depth posts for my buymeacoffee page. 

Happy Writing! :)

[lounaticm]

Married!Captain x Dark HCs

(I haven't been able to stop thinking about this ask from @psychnerd713 and only after I gave an answer did my brain decide to properly start thinking about it, so. Here's a continuation.)

The wedding is a quiet affair, just the two of them. Much as the Captain loves their crew to death, they didn't want anything loud or to have too much attention. This was for them and him. Thankfully, the Captain has both the knowledge and license/authority to officiate their own wedding, the very first to take place on their new planet.

The Captain says nothing about having gotten married afterwards, though it doesn't take too long for someone to catch them with their gloves off, the ring standing out starkly. The discoverer stating their surprise and lack of knowledge about the Captain being married draws a lot of attention, eventually bringing Celci around to mention that the Captain's records upon boarding the Invincible stated that they weren't married.

"It happened recently. Didn't want a lot of attention or to cause a commotion."

Questions about 'who' and 'where' and 'when' and 'why they hadn't said anything before' immediately began to flood in.

"No one that any of you would know. Not too far from the settlement. Almost a month ago, now. Because it's a rather complicated situation."

Cue Dark suddenly appearing through what looks like a hole in the universe.

"I would say you certainly seem to have some timing... except I know you're always watching or listening."

"I worry."

"I know. You're a professional worrier at this point. And due to the sorts of things that have happened, I don't mind a bit. It's nice to have an extra pair of eyes on things."

The crew, of course, feels rather hurt that they weren't at the very least told about the Captain getting married before now, but ultimately understand - at least, as much as they're able to without all the details of what led up to it all, but that's an entire lifetime and then some, and it would simply take much too long to try to explain it all just then.

Dark wears a glamor for the first while, hiding his inhuman skin tone and the unnatural (and sometimes uncomfortable) aura that usually surrounds him. The first time he lets any of it down is actually accidental, an ever-so-slight slip of his concentration as he's walking around the settlement, speaking and reminiscing with the Captain. All it takes is for the Captain to make him laugh, a burst of cyan sparkling off of him like flecks of aquamarine catching the sunlight, a small ripple of red following in its wake.

He starts consciously allowing parts of his aura to show through after that. The red and cyan anaglyphic effects. The grey pallor to his skin. An occasional feeling of slightly increased air pressure around him. It's assumed that that's all there is to him... until he's seen getting irritated at a certain wannabe usurper in the crew. Grey creeps off his skin like smoke, eventually coalescing into a sphere around him, the color of everything in this area being sapped away until it is removed from this proximity. That slight pressure becomes a heavy weight, pressing down like the gravity had suddenly shifted to be double or triple of what it should be. And then there's the high-pitched ringing, like a gun had gone off much too close by, and the creaking, as if something wooden were under a strain. No one could deny that the Captain's husband made for quite the intimidating sight when he wanted to be, and he hadn't even raised his voice.

He'd introduced himself to everyone by the name Dark, and though people always hear the Captain calling him Damien (and diminutives thereof) no one calls him anything else.

Dark sometimes disappears for a few hours, but no one knows where he goes and they've no intentions of asking and potentially butting into personal business. Some have heard the Captain asking him how 'the Others' are doing when he comes back again - always through those abyss-like doorways that close too fast to see anything but a pitch black void. Eavesdroppers often hear talk of someone called 'Will' getting up to all sorts of things. Regardless of what names are mentioned, there is always clear fondness in his tone, if sometimes colored with exasperation.

Knowing me, my brain probably won't let this go even still, so if I end up with more thoughts, there will be a sequel to this.

@kiwibubbles5

[ailendolin]

Thanktival 2022 - Day 1 - Yonderland

Title: The Perfect Present [AO3]

Characters: The Elders' Youngers & the Cake Bake Ladies

Prompt: The Elders' Youngers & Holiday Jumpers

Summary: The Youngers try to make the perfect Thanktival present for their parents. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

A/N: Happy 12 Days of Thanktival, everyone! I can't wait to see this year's wonderful creations by everyone!

————

The Perfect Present

“Is it supposed to look like this?”

The gentle sound of needles clicking stopped as Alvin and the others looked up. Irk was holding … something in his hand. It was supposed to be a Thanktival jumper – inspired by something Alvin had heard Debbie talk about a few days ago – but looked more like a doily a dragon had viciously torn apart with its claws than anything resembling a piece of clothing.

Out of the corner of his eye, Alvin saw Sepal wince. “I’m pretty sure nothing is supposed to look like this, Irk.”

The others nodded in agreement. Irk sighed and put down his knitting needles. “I’ll never work it out in time for Thanktival.”

Daisy glanced down at his own pitiful attempt at knitting that was turning out to be just slightly less disastrous than Irk’s. “Yeah, neither will I.”

“We need help,” Barry said heavily.

“We need more than that,” Irk said. “We need Deb-beh.”

Alvin put down his own dark blue monstrosity of a jumper with a sigh. “Debbie’s not here, though. She’s home, preparing for Krismas, remember?”

The others hung their heads.

“Then what do we do?” Sepal asked. “We can’t very well give our parents these.”

He held up his jumper and watched it slowly unravel into a pile of wool in silent dismay.

Alvin bit his lip. It had been his idea to knit Thanktival jumpers for their parents and so he felt responsible for the disaster it was turning into. Who could have known that knitting was so hard? His mum always made it look so easy. It took her no time at all to turn a ball of wool into something nice and comfortable like the warm pair of socks he was wearing right now. Alvin really hadn’t expected it to be so difficult to recreate his mum’s needlework but it was, and the longer he looked at everyone’s sorry creations, the more obvious it became that Barry was right: they desperately needed help. There was only one person aside from Debbie Alvin could think of who might be able to safe them now. He looked at the others, face serious. “I’m going to call Edith.”

A few hours later, they stood in front of Edith’s house – which was actually Sue’s and Lynn apparently lived there, too. Alvin counted that as a blessing because the gods knew they could use all the help they could get. The three women took one look at their jumpers – or what remained of them – before they shook their heads in mirrored despair.

“How did you even do this?” Lynn asked with a look of horrified fascination on her face as she held up Irk’s mauled doily between two well-manicured fingers.

Irk just shrugged. “Talent?”

“Rather a lack thereof,” Sue grumbled and ushered them inside.

They sat down in the living room where a plate of freshly baked cookies had been set up for them. Edith waited until they had all taken one before she said with a kind smile, “Now, I think what you’re trying to do is very sweet–“

“Stupid is the word I’d use,” Sue muttered under her breath. Lynn elbowed her none too gently.

“– but I think we can all agree that you bit off more than you can chew,” Edith continued unfazed. “So how about we try something a little less advanced instead?”

She reached behind her and presented them with a wool hat and scarf. It wasn’t quite what Alvin had had in mind when he’d proposed the idea of knitting jumpers to the others a few days ago. His mum loved things from Debbie’s world and her eyes had shone so brightly when Debbie had talked about her Krismas traditions. Something inspired by that would have been the perfect present but after today’s knitting disaster he was pretty sure his mum would appreciate a well-done scarf a lot more than a jumper that was barely recognisable as such. Judging by the hopeful looks in his brothers’ eyes, they all felt the same so Alvin turned to Edith with a smile. “Less advanced sounds perfect.”

They spent the rest of the day knitting under Edith, Lynn and Sue’s careful observation. After showing them the basics, they let them work on their own, only intervening when it was absolutely necessary. At one point, Lynn vanished into the kitchen and returned with the most beautiful cake Alvin had ever seen. It tasted just as incredible as it looked and Sepal, taking after his dad, would have forgotten about his knitting project in favour of it if Daisy hadn’t taken the plate away from him.

Even with the distraction of the cake, they managed to finish their presents by the end of the day. Barry, Irk and Daisy had all chosen to make hats for their fathers while Sepal and Alvin had decided to make scarves. Thanks to Edith, Lynn and Sue’s embroidery skills, each present was also personalised in some way. The letters LORD now adorned Barry’s hat, inspired by his father’s title. Daisy’s hat had little flowers all over it in the colours of the rainbow while Irk’s sported a single apple blossom. Knowing how much meaning it held for their parents, Alvin couldn’t help but smile when Irk proudly held it up for all of them to see. His own scarf partly mirrored the symbolism of Irk’s hat: on one end, Edith had embroidered a light blue butterfly and on the other, a golden quill.

“Your mother will love this,” she said softly when she was done and handed the scarf back to Alvin.

Sepal hadn’t been so sure about what to do with his father’s scarf at first. In the end, he asked Sue to embroider a simplified version of the Elder’s chamber onto one end of it.

“It’s home,” he said with a small, self-conscious shrug. “This way, he’ll always have it with him, even if he’ll have to flee to another realm again.”

They all crowded around him in a hug after that.

Edith, Lynn and Sue sent them home with little bags of cookies and the relieved feeling of not having screwed up the first Thanktival where they could be sure their presents wouldn’t get eaten. Alvin couldn’t wait for his mother to see the scarf he made. He had a feeling she was going to cry and hug the life out of him when he told her he made it himself – with Edith’s help, of course. Looking at the smiling faces of his brothers, Alvin couldn’t help but grin as well. This year’s Thanktival would be the best one ever.

[scorpi14]

My thoughts on The Rookie 5x04

I… am about to pop off, so please remember this is my opinion. And everyone is entitled to their opinions and feelings, including the ones I don’t agree with so I’m not trying to disrespect anyone who feels differently. And I’m really suspecting a lot of people aren’t going to agree with mine here, but… idk I have to say something.

I just can’t help feeling frustrated. I know a lot of this fandom is fueled by Chenford love, and believe me I am among them. However, I wasn’t a Chenford fan until Day of Death in Season 2. I fell in love with another aspect of this show first, and that was its idealistic portrayal of police work.

I’m not going to get into how fucked up the police are in real life, nor am I going to nitpick all the ways The Rookie succeeds and fails at portraying accurate and ideal police work. All I want to highlight is that this show started out in season 1 by portraying what a police force SHOULD be like. In procedure, discretion, actually protecting and serving, and everything in between. It was refreshing, and I loved The Rookie for it. They doubled down on this in season 3 in a very real way because of real world events that were important for them to discuss given the nature of the show.

Season 4 was a little shaky from a story-telling perspective for various reasons, and maybe this initial point of The Rookie got lost in that drama + the added dramatization a show needs to get to with each passing season, but I’m reminding everyone right now that this show started out on this foot, and to some degree, it needs to keep that integrity.

It feels like everyone who’s mad about John being the center of 5x04 and Rosalind’s attempt to corrupt a noble cop has either forgotten this fact, or doesn’t care about it. Like it or not, Nolan is the original heart of the show, so it IS important he was the focus for this storyline. Because HE represents the morality police should ALWAYS have. Yes, that’s along with Lucy and Jackson, and everyone else still on the show. The core cast of Season 1 Rookie all represented the discussion of just police work in different, complimentary ways, but John was the original center of the show. And the writers have pivoted to accommodate what the fandom is in love with now, but there still needs to be some focus on this touchstone. And Rosalind is a direct foil of that, and specifically John since he’s the original moral center of the show. She represents one of the most corrupt forms of human nature - or rather, a lack thereof. That dynamic has been present in their relationship since she was first introduced, so it makes sense for their story to reach this head.

Furthermore, you DO NOT want to have Lucy or Tim be the one to kill Rosalind unless it was in self defense. Yes, Tim would’ve 100% murdered Rosalind in cold blood if it had been him faced off against Rosalind and Lucy in the tank, but then he’d be finished as a cop. Tim’s morality is as important to his character as Nolan’s is, but Tim is more willing to corrupt himself in the service of a loved one. Remember Lucy said in season 1, “It sure as hell will change you” when he almost did this for Isabelle. And it would here too. And yes, that is 100% hot, but Tim would be unable to continue as a cop if he’d murdered someone like that, and then Chenford would be shot in the foot.

The same goes for Lucy. She is a moral cop, and we want her to stay that way because that’s the nature of this show. We’re already looking at some potential bending of ‘moral lines’ in the fact that Chenford has a power dynamic, so tacking this on would just… be a lot.

Do I think there could’ve been a more interesting plot for such a crucial villain? Sure. I’m disappointed we won’t get to see if Rosalind had plans for Tim and have a reversal of Lucy saving him from whatever torture she put him through. Yes, it would’ve been badass for Lucy to fight Rosalind and win, maybe even put her in the ground in a very real moment of self defense to save Tim/herself (because I’m sorry, forcing someone to kill you across a dinner table on the POSSIBLE chance that you’ll free someone else in a trap is NOT the same thing. It would’ve been murder, so in order for this self defense kill to fly, it’d have to be a very different situation in my opinion). 

But Lucy already chose not to face Rosalind again. Taking away Rosalind’s power to get to her in the trial WAS Lucy’s way of beating her, so at least this way preserves that. At least she doesn’t have to endure more trauma in seeing someone else she loves get hurt, or having to kill Rosalind herself (I don’t know if I’ve forgotten, but I can’t recall if Lucy’s killed anyone in the line of duty. So even though Rosalind’s a serial killer who’s traumatized her, that would’ve made an impact on her the same way it did John the first time it happened to him). 

So yeah, I think there could’ve been more interesting stories told here, but I understand what this episode meant and I respect it for that. Because at the end of the day, The Rookie is supposed to be about police keeping the line of morality they’re necessarily supposed to have to be worthy protectors no matter what the situation is.

[patheticpaprika]

Fandom: Ace Attorney Ship: Miles Edgeworth/Phoenix Wright Rating: Teen and Up Words: 3.5k Summary:

Edgeworth feels like he doesn't deserve to be loved by someone like Phoenix, and Phoenix is terrified of being too much and scaring Edgeworth away. But when they are finally forced to acknowledge the truth of their relationship, will they face the fire or continue to hide from its flames? . . . And Trucy? Well, she's just a little fed up.

“Just let me pay for it, Wright,” Edgeworth stated stubbornly.

“Thank you, but I’m entirely capable of paying for myself,” Wright responded, just as resolutely.

Phoenix and Edgeworth had gone out to eat for the night. They’d decided on a small Taiwanese restaurant with clean black tiles and red trim. The food had been delightful, and the conversation even more so. It had been, all around, a pleasant evening. That is, until they had finished their food and begun to argue over the cheque.

“I’m perfectly aware of that. But it’s no secret I have some amount of wealth. Please, it is the least I could do to repay you.”

“I might not be rich like you, but I can still support myself perfectly fine, Miles,” he bit back, already taking out his wallet.”

“Don’t be asinine, Wright. I’m perfectly aware you can.”

“Then let me.”

“Why do you insist on being so stubborn?”

“Why do you.”

“Because I— Because…” Why couldn’t he just say why?! So instead, he conceded. “...You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“Thank you,” he enunciated firmly.

“Can I… Can I drive you home at least? It’s dark, and it’s cold, and your bike fits in my trunk.”

Phoenix looked at him, searching for something; that something Edgeworth wasn’t sure of. He finally responded with a light sigh and a short, “Okay.”

They rode to his apartment in a heavy silence, broken only after they arrived at Pheonix’s apartment.

“Goodnight, Wright,” Edgeworth murmured, looking up at him, still off-kilter and anxious from their conversation (and lack thereof in the car.)

Their eyes met. “Goodnight, Miles,” he said, sad but not unkindly. He opened the car door and turned away to get out.

“Wait! I—”

Phoenix looked back at him expectedly.

“Wright—” This was him, god-damn it. He could tell him the truth. The man loved foolishly and kind. He had still stuck around him when Edgeworth had been actively trying to push him away. So he started again. “…Phoenix.”

Oh, but it was him. What would he do when Phoenix finally had enough of him? Despite how he’d tried for so long, Phoenix had nestled tightly in his heart, reawakening its quiet beating tremors. A heart that would surely collapse from these tremors in his absence. Not all things should be woken up, because its stirring will surely bring about its own destruction.

Edgeworth hit his head on the steering wheel, leaving his head to rest there and causing the car to let out one short beep. “Fuck.”

“Uhm, Miles, are you okay??”

“I’m sorry!” he finally mustered out rather abruptly. He heaved himself back up from the steering wheel fully, with a sigh, looking back at Phoenix before quickly darting his eyes away again and clenching his hands. “It was not… my intention to make you believe I was belittling you. You have shown me time and time again truly how capable you are, and I did not mean for you to think I thought anything differently. I simply wish… You see… It’s just… This is the only way I seem to be capable of repaying you. I know it’s still not enough, but I had hoped it would at least… help.” He paused. “However, if it makes you uncomfortable, I can refrain from doing so in the future.”

“What.”

“Must you really make me repeat it, Wright?”

“No no no, that’s not what I meant. What do you mean repay me?”

“Come now, isn’t it quite obvious?”

“No, it’s not… unless.”

Edgeworth risked a glance and found Phoenix’s face scrunched up in the middle of a disgruntled realization.

“Miles Edgeworth, do you mean to tell me you believe you owe me, for what? Being there for you? Caring for you?!”

“Something along those lines.”

He let out a frustrated sigh. “Miles, could you look at me?” His voice was heart-wrenchingly gentle.

He obliged wordlessly.

“I don’t know what you were taught to believe love is, but my love for you is not contractual, and it will never be contractual. I do the things I do for you, not because I expect things in return, but because I want to. Okay? I care about you, you doofus.” He rested his hand on top of Edgeworth’s. “And I’m sorry for snapping earlier. I realize now that you meant nothing rude by it. I was tired and upset, and my own insecurities were eating away at me like I was a tasty turkey dinner. And I pushed those insecurities onto you.”

Edgeworth merely blinked back at him.

Phoenix flicked him squarely in the forehead.

“What was that for?!”

“Thought it might help get it into that thick head of yours,” he grinned impishly. He’d clearly spent too much time with Maya.

Edgeworth scoffed, “I will have you know my head is of just the— the right thickness thank you very much.”

“Pff, I know, I know.” Phoenix patted him on the head. “I do mean it, though. What I said” His tone became serious again. “You’re my friend, my closest friend even, and that’s what I do for friends. You’re certainly no exemption.”

“...Are you sure?”

“As sure as I am in my client’s innocence.”

“Then I believe it might be accurate to say you are my closest friend too?” Did he say something wrong? Phoenix looked like he was now about ready to cry.

Oh no no no no, what had Edgeworth done now?

But before he had a chance to ask, Phoenix launched himself at him with a hug.

Edgeworth sat there dumbstruck for a few seconds, unsure of what to do with the man now clinging to him in the cramped car. He eventually rather anxiously slipped his arms around him.

Phoenix’s name felt rather accurate sitting there in his arms. He was just so warm. It was like wrapping your arms around a fire. He’d always seen fire as aggressively passionate and destructive in its fight to continue on. Yet now, it was somehow so comforting. A forest fire burning away the old withering beliefs and feelings, leaving room for the new. When had his idea of the man shifted so sharply in his eyes, or had he simply been ignoring it before?

Regardless of the timing, he found himself now, always drawing closer to the man’s strength and warmth and life he carried with him in everything he did. Could they do this more? Just sitting there together? Maybe not with the awkward pose the car seats made them twist into. But maybe on the couch curled up in a blanket or after a long late-night work session, Phoenix forcing him to take a break like he apparently loves to do. It doesn’t matter really when or where or even frankly what, as long as he’s there with all his fiery heat. There was something so simple about it that made it feel wrong in the best of ways. Because how could happiness be so easily found? How could sitting there doing almost nothing feel so right? What had von Karma had him chasing for all those years if perfection could be found in one quiet embrace?

This man made him constantly question and reestablish every little thing he thought to be true, during trials, but also entirely outside them. Being around him filled him with countless thoughts he both wanted to know, and already did but simply feared the long-since clear conclusion. A dilemma which filled him with both dread and sheer terror by the prospect. No matter how many times he would try to stop them, burn the thoughts to the ground, they always rose back stronger than before as soon as he laid eyes on him again. He was a glowing breath of life reviving the world. For how much Edgeworth tried to cling to sameness, Phoenix’s perpetual reimagining was its own sort of constant. An ever-changing constant, he found he did not mind as much as he should. Maybe comfort could be found in revolution? God, he loved him. He loved him so much. He’d known that for years now. It was a realization that had hit like a ghastly cacophony before settling softly in his gut. A feeling that would so quickly turn into butterflies from a simple touch of a hand. From a kind, open smile directed towards him.

Phoenix finally pulled away. He looked sheepish. “Sorry, I probably should have asked first.”

“I… did not mind.”

“Oh. Guess that’s alright then.” He smiled again. Such a soft fond smile it almost hurt to look at with any amount of acknowledgment to the genuineness of it. “Hey, would you, um, want to come inside for a bit? Youdonthavetoofcourseyouprobablyhavelotstodo! But uh, yeah, mhm. Plus, I bet Trucy would love to say hi. Maya might still be over too.”

Regardless of what he might say, Edgeworth returned the smile with the same genuine fondness, although in his own reserved way. He checked his watch. “It’s not too late, and I got done more than expected today, so I suppose I can come in. If that’s okay?” He visited the Wrights so often these days that he practically lived there, but that didn’t stop him from putting up the pretense that he wouldn’t drop everything to be with them a little while longer.

“I was the one who offered, so of course it’s alright. We always love having you over!” With that, he nodded to Edgeworth and slid out of the car. Edgeworth popped the trunk so he could retrieve his bike and then joined him outside.

They climbed the building’s stairs, and Phoenix fiddled with the keys, letting them both inside his apartment. “Trucy, we’re home!!” he called out.

She bounded towards them. “Shh!! Maya’s asleep on the couch!” she hissed just as loudly as Phoenix was before smiling widely. “Hi Daddy, hi Uncle Miles. What took you two so long? You guys were sitting in the car foreverrrrrr. I made you tea, but it’s getting cold. You should drink it now so it doesn’t go to waste,” she pouted, before nudging him with her elbow playfully. “Unless someone as fancy as you is okay with microwave-reheated tea.” She dragged him towards the small dining table as soon as he took off his street shoes.

Phoenix followed soon after, quite amused.

Trucy sat Edgeworth down with his tea and handed Phoenix a cup of decaf coffee as Maya emerged from the living room, wiping away the sleep from her eyes.

“Oh, hi, Maya. When did you wake up?” Trucy asked.

“About when you shouted ‘SHhHh MaYa’S aSleEp,” she quipped back with faux annoyance as she joined them at the table.

Trucy smiled guiltily before resting her chin on her hands and turning her attention back to Edgeworth. She had more important matters to attend to. “So why were you and Daddy sitting in the car for so long together?” she asked innocently.

Maya perked up at that, entirely forgetting she was still pretending to be grumpy.

“What do you mean? We were just talking, Trucy,” he responded evenly.

“About what, though,” Maya chimed in.

“Yeah, that! You talk inside all the time, so if it’s outside, that clearly means it’s important.”

“Uh, well.” Edgeworth stuttered out. “It was nothing much… really—”

“But, but, I saw you two hugging for like… 30 seconds at least! That’s a lot of time to be hugging, even for Daddy.”

“Trucy enough. Don’t pressure him. This isn’t a court of law; Uncle Miles doesn’t have to tell you anything,” Phoenix interjected.

Trucy collapsed over the table, her excitement deflating into upset frustration. “But why? You two are such... Such… boring-stupid-big-dumb-idiots—”

“—Language—” Phoenix scolded weakly.

“—Why can’t you two just figure it out already!? It’s been forever, but you’re both too stuck in dim-witted overly-serious adult mode to finally just get it together.” Tears started to form in her eyes, and she wiped them away angrily. “Why can’t we just be a proper family like everyone else?” She pointed sharply to Phoenix, “Daddy” and then to Edgeworth, “Mommy.” She crossed her arms, still trying to stop her tears from flowing. “There, I did it for you!”

She got up abruptly from her chair and escaped to her room, shutting the door. Maya looked to the door, to Phoenix, and then to Edgeworth, and back again. She murmured, “I’ll go check up on her,” and left for Trucy’s room.

That left Phoenix and Edgeworth sitting at the table with the weight of what Trucy had just said permeating the atmosphere.

After some time, Phoenix eventually tried to break it. “Listen, I, I’m sorry. I guess I’ve accidentally said some stuff that has made her think, er, some things, and now… I guess… She got the idea that, ugh.”

“Have we really been doing that?”

Phoenix fiddled with his coffee mug, not making eye contact.

“Trucy isn’t an idiot. In fact, she’s probably smarter than the both of us.”

“...Yes”

“Then is she right? All of it?” No amount of self-preservation could stop him asking it when he was now so desperate to hear the answer.

The prolonged silence hung heavily over the two, but Phoenix finally broke it, sounding ragged.

“I didn’t want to scare you away.”

“...Oh… I see.”

Phoenix looked at him at that, unreadable emotions flickering past his face. “You see? So we’re just moving on from so much as finally acknowledging that bottomless rabbit hole then, are we?!” His voice cracked. “Pretending it doesn’t exist for another 15 years.”

“No, Wright, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I wasn’t expecting a response like that. Please. Just give me a moment.”

He opened his mouth as though to protest, before shutting it again, nodding, and sinking into the chair.

Miles desperately tried to wrangle his unruly thoughts into something coherent. He finally managed a question. “What do you mean you didn’t want to scare me away?” Talking is good. Communication is good. He can do this. Even on territory in some self-sabotaging way, he’d hope to never cross.

“It seemed to take you years just to admit I was your friend, Miles. Is it really all that surprising? You still call me Wright most of the time for crying out loud! I didn’t want to be too much because I always seem to be too much. I love intensely, and that’s not something I can just tamper down. I’ve finally gotten you back; I don't want to lose you again.” Once it started, he couldn’t seem to stop. It unraveled out of him like unruly thread. “And yes, sometimes I wondered, sometimes I hoped, but I wouldn’t dare push you into something. So I just ignored it. I ignored what I felt and, eventually, what I felt coming from you. I refused to give myself the hope that you, cold callous Edgeworth, would ever, ever care for me like I do for you. And when that facade slowly broke down, revealing how soft, and kind, and caring, like I’d always known you were, I shut that up too, because this is a line, that if we cross, we can never return. Please, Miles, I don’t want to lose you.”

“Phoenix, I—” Take his hand, take his hand, just somehow comfort him; why can’t you ever seem to comfort him? “Why-” Comfort him, comfort him, you idiot, why can’t you even do that? Not even a simple reassuring touch?! “I don’t want you to.”

“Oh.”

“No! No. I don’t want you to hold back for me.”

“Oh.”

Edgeworth clutched his elbow tightly.

Phoenix wet his lips. “Are you sure, Miles? Please, are you sure? How can you be sure.”

“I don’t think I can. But…” A small smile crept to his lips. “Someone once taught me that sometimes it’s worth putting trust in others, even when you don’t know how it will end.”

“Oh, is that so?” he choked out. “You’ll have to introduce me to him sometime.”

“You are an idiot, Wright, you know that, correct?”

“Shut up. You said don’t hold back, so does this mean I can kiss you?”

Miles let out an undignified squeak but soon nodded repeatedly.

Phoenix got up from his chair to approach him, moving slowly as though Edgeworth was a spooked animal about to bolt. But maybe that wasn’t too far off an assumption, considering how fast his heart was currently beating.

Pheonix cupped his cheek, gently brushing away his silver hair. He leaned down and pressed their chapped lips together. It only lasted a few seconds, but it made Edgeworth feel woozy and his stomach leap. From happiness or pure panic, he did not know.

“Was that okay?” Phoenix’s voice said, reminding him he was still present in a body apparently.

Was it okay? It was more than okay, actually. It wasn’t some grand kiss at the end of Samurai Summer. There were no fireworks or orchestra. But there was Phoenix in his cramped kitchen kissing him, and that was all Miles ever needed. This really was perfection, wasn’t it?

Edgeworth stood up from his chair, leaving only a few inches between them. Regardless, he looked directly at him. “Phoenix, I believe I would like you to kiss me again.”

Phoenix happily obliged.

—⚖—

There was a knock. “Can I come in?” Maya said from behind the door.

Not wanting to use her voice because she was worried it would break from her crying, Trucy got up from her bed and padded over to open the door.

Maya joined her back on the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She sniffled. “I didn’t mean to snap at them like that.” She rested her head against Maya and closed her eyes. Maya wrapped her arm around her shoulders. She sat there a while, just thinking and quietly sitting in Maya’s arms.

Trucy was just getting so frustrated. She loved her dad very much, but there was only so much of his thick-headedness she could take. And, well, okay, it wasn’t just that.

Trucy had always kind of wanted to have a family with two parents again. It’s not that she wasn’t happy! But sometimes, she wondered what it would be like. If it would make her life more normal. And before her dad had gotten his attorney’s badge back, if it would make him less sad. She had long since realized that she was more than content with her strange little family, although, sometimes, it felt like the thought just slipped out and back into her mind, despite the irrationality of it.

Still. There had always been Uncle Miles, and she started to realise he already acted like her second parent. Not only that, her dad and him already acted like a couple too! Still, no matter what happened, they never seemed to acknowledge that. They made each other so happy, but like this, they were also making each other sad.

“Hey, Truce?”

She opened her eyes again. “Hm?”

“Do you think they’re kissing yet?”

Trucy giggled wetly. “They better be, or else I’m gonna have to yell at them again.”

Maya snickered in return, “Heh, yeah.”

Trucy turned her head to look at Maya better. “You know, I do feel bad for yelling at them like that, but I’m not sure I regret it. Other than maybe each other, I’m like… their favourite person. If they can’t figure it out on their own, they’ll at least figure it out for me.”

“Hey, what about me!” Maya exclaimed in mock offence.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t exploit Daddy for so many burgers, you’d be higher up their list,” she teased. The heavy feelings of sadness hadn’t quite yet drifted away, but she was in higher spirits.

“Ehhh, sounds like too much work.”

“Pff, figured as much.” She paused. “I think I still need to apologize, though. I miss having a second parent sometimes, but that’s not their fault. I love the family I do have. You all mean the world to me.”

Maya nodded and smiled fondly. She gave Trucy, who was still in her arms, a quick squeeze.

“In the meantime, though…” She sniffled, smiling smally, but with a glint in her eye. “Wanna peek through the door and see what they’re doing?”

Maya’s expression immediately turned devilish, putting her fingertips together in glee. “Of course.”

They crept towards the door and cracked it open. Maya’s head peaked out, as Trucy’s soon did the same underneath Maya’s. They exchanged a gleeful glance.

They were kissing!!! After so many years spent ignoring their feelings, they were finally kissing!

Just wait till the groupchat hears about this.

Trucy went to pull out her phone to take a picture. She almost dropped it in her haste, catching it at the last second before it made a sound. She went to take a photo.

The flash turned on.

Maya and Trucy looked at each other in a panic. They both tried to back up into the room at the same time. Trucy’s head hit Maya’s legs as Maya was midstride. Maya floundered for something to grab onto, finally grasping onto the door knob. The door followed Maya’s backward descent, swinging open. "Ahh shit!"

The two men broke apart, alarmed. Both looked at them concerned, but Edgeworth's expression soon turned to indignation.

"Maya. Trucy. What the hell are you doing?"

[ytptennis]

terry being taken down the way he did makes sense but that doesn’t make it good. that’s something a lot of ck fans don’t have a grasp on; that certain writing choices absolutely do fit the characters but don’t fit with an actual meaningful playout of the story. imo they should have stretched out the conflict into the sixth (& hopefully final) season, because i did like the re-introduction of terry revolving around his psychology.

him starting off as a one-dimensional satire of capitalism doesn’t mean that expanding upon his psychology automatically makes him a sympathetic figure. neither the fandom nor the writers themselves seem to understand this. both love to laud the show’s portrayal of the “gray areas of morality” & how no character is truly good or bad when the narrative doesn’t even allow them to mentally confront their trauma. its always physical. always barking tactics and showing flashbacks instead of having quiet moments where the characters are left alone with themselves. terry’s the only character who’s actually had brief (VERY brief) moments like these.

back to the original point, terry is a figure who should have succumbed to himself. one of the episode titles is literally “ouroboros”. he’s always been a being of devotion, to kreese and now to himself. his canon endgame doesn’t seem to actually have an end -- you make your way of karate the most popular in the world, and...what? you just assume everyone will share the ideals you’ve infected it with? its so cartoonish.

it ties back to my argument that he should not have bribed the referee. he should have won the tournament fair and square, so that he could continue to be an “effective” teacher who does what he does best: taking the worst aspects of a budding teenager’s fragile psyche and exacerbating them under the guise of self-actualization. this is what he knows, what he practices, and what he was taught by the american military. he accepts everything about himself except the fact that he is and always will be an extension of the military industrial complex, because that would in turn expose not a lack of autonomy -- because joining the army is a choice -- but precisely the reverse. you made the wrong choice, the worst choice, and there’s nothing you can do to rectify it. johnny, daniel, and chozen all made the wrong choices in their youth, but they were able to look inward and turn their lives around. meanwhile, terry would rather die than admit he built the cage and locked himself in it in the first place. its too humiliating. (more weight to the scene where kreese intimidates him! a cage of sexuality/lack thereof, a cage of carnage, a cage of white american vainglory, etc.)

the way this would play into his downfall would be the cobra kids actively choosing to turn against him, instead of a big exposure plot. the kids suffering mentally under his tutelage and learning on their own to look inward for change, to forgive themselves for making bad choices. the kids ultimately choosing to not be like him, to not become someone who chose an unforgivable path and eventually melted into its foundation. daniel had this revelation, and defeated terry the first time.

this happened to kreese, and he would have suffered the same fate eventually had he not played on terry’s love for him (which in and of itself only exists in the limbo of subtext, but terry having unrequited romantic feelings for kreese plays a huge part in this) while underestimating how deeply obsessive terry is as a way of compensating for his own emptiness. like the scene in hannibal where he tells will “im where you can always find me” while being put in handcuffs. do i think terry is genuinely in love with kreese? subtextually, and for the sake of this reading, yes. earnest human characteristics in truly reprehensible villains, once again, do not make them sympathetic. they merely show the universality of evil.

this would not only crush terry on the teaching front, because he’d genuinely believe he was a good teacher, but also on the legacy front. i actually like the base concept of terry being wistful about children, half because its another trait that makes him more human, and half because it defangs the sexual aspect of him being a child predator, since so many people are uncomfortably fixated on that for Certain Reasons. do army recruiters not prey on children?

more to the point, itd be a big paul-dano-riddler “AAARRGH IT WASNT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN LIKE THIS” moment where he, and his cage, fall in on themselves. his idea of love and enrichment was never that in the first place, and all he has is a legacy of failure. the snake succumbs to its own bite.

[yeonban]

             ° • ? ( QUESTION SENTENCE STARTERS.

@fatedevour​  asked:  ❛  What’s  so  great  about  any  of  that  anyway?  ❜  to  subject  two!

The  topic  of  gods  &  visions  isn’t  one  the  homunculus  tends  to  participate  in  (  his  neutrality  on  the  matter,  bordering  on  raw  indifference  to  the  existence  of  divinity  or  lack  thereof,  is  certain  to  offend  many  a  people  and  therefore  he  prefers  not  to  delve  into  the  subject  any  further  than  necessary  )  yet  Dottore’s  query,  so  laced  in  hostility,  intrigues  the  blond  enough  to  ponder  the  thought  instead  of  disregarding  it  &  switching  topics  as  he  would  have  done  had  almost  anyone  else  been  his  audience.   ❛   I  would  surmise  it  is  a  byproduct  of  human  nature.   ❜   Subject  Two  states  whilst  staring  at  the  other,  expression  blank.  The  displeasure  in  the  harbinger’s  tone  and  the  ever  so  slight  contortion  in  his  features  seem  to  captivate,  forming  within  his  ribs  a  desire  to  understand  the  other’s  beliefs,  an  itch  that  wishes  to  prod  &  question  -  to  study  the  new  perspective  and  the  man  that  had  presented  it;  but  he  temporarily  decides  against  it,  instead  responding  with  his  own  opinion.

❛   As  per  my  investigation,  at  their  core  human  beings  possess  an  equal  fear  of  and  curiosity  for  the  unknown,  yet  evolutionary  processes  have  steadily  shifted  the  percentage  in  favor  of  the  fear  factor.  As  a  result,  humankind  has  sought  safety  since  ancient  times,  and  whether  for  the  better  or  the  worse,  for  millennia  it  has  always  been  the  gods  that  have  answered  their  call  and  controlled  their  fates.  Humans  have  thus  offered  them  sacrifices,  praise  and  prayers  in  order  to  appease  the  deities  and  avoid  the  likely  scenario  of,  direct  or  indirect,  complete  annihilation  of  the  human  race.  Under  these  circumstances,  it’s  comprehensible  why  the  aforementioned  would  become  traditions  that  would  continue  to  this  day,  and  why  the  appearance  of  visions,  conventionally  believed  to  be  a  symbol  of  the  gods’  approval,  would  become  so  widely  celebrated  in  the  past  two  thousand  years.   ❜ 

Subject  Two  remembers  to  blink  then,  to  act  like  the  human  being  he  is  supposed  to  be,  but  his  gaze  never  falters  /  never  leaves  the  scientist’s  visage.  In  a  world  so  heavily  reliant  on  the  gods’  power  (  to  protect  &  to  destroy  ),  Dottore  seems  to  simply  rely  on  his  own  achievements.  A  human  being  that  obeys  the  Tsaritsa’s  commands  (  to  what  extent  though,  he’s  unsure  ),  yet  remains  austere  to  the  notion  of  the  gods’  rule  over  the  world.  What  a  curious  thing.   ❛   However...  according  to  my  findings,  there  has  been  a  rather  substantial  increase  in  the  amount  of,  for  the  lack  of  a  better  word,  “non-believers”,  during  recent  years.  To  quite  a  significant  number  of  people,  the  act  of  receiving  a  vision  has  lost  its  former  sacrality,  becoming  no  different  than  receiving  an  ordinary  gift.  A  vision  is  now  considered  nothing  more  than  a  simple  tool,  much  alike  to  an  alchemist’s  flask  or  a  scientist’s  test  cube.   ❜ 

This  apparent  hatred  (  not  love,  nor  indifference  )  is  a  new  perspective  for  him  to  appraise,  the  very  first  of  its  kind  that  the  homunculus  has  become  privy  to  during  his  journey  across  Teyvat,  and  a  new  step  in  comprehending  the  world.  Many  people  across  the  nations  tended  to  worship  or  coexist  with  the  seven  archons,  visionless  and  holders  alike,  but  not  Dottore.  Why  is  that?   ❛   There  are  certain  gaps  in  the  data,  but  it  does  ring  true  that  the  masses’  adoration  for  divinity  has  slowly  begun  to  decline,  and  thus  it  should  be  safe  to  theorize  that,  with  humankind’s  newfound  capabilities  to  guarantee  its  own  survival  through  the  breakthroughs  brought  forth  by  repeated  and  monumental  scientific  successes,  the  era  of  gods  is  likely  to  be  nearing  its  end,  and  so  too  the  importance  of  visions.   ❜ 

❛   The  Fatui  have  already  created  something  similar,  correct?  Although  I  have  heard  they  haven’t  been  perfected  yet,  if  the  flaws  in  delusion  usage  are  removed,  humankind  may  well  be  equipped  to  wage  war  on  divinity,  and  perhaps  even  triumph  in  its  endeavor.   ❜   And  how  close  the  failed  experiment’s  hypothesis  is  to  the  truth.  Was  this  the  result  that  Dottore  sought?  Or  was  there  something  else  still  escaping  his  grasp?  The  harbinger  seems  to  bring  as  many  questions  as  he  does  answers,  and  Subject  Two  cannot  help  but  be  enthralled  by  the  vast  world  of  knowledge  laid  out  in  front  of  him.  Maybe  he  could  aid  him  in  unveiling  the  truth  of  this  world  before  Albedo,  help  him  alleviate  the  distance  between  the  homunculi  prompted  by  the  centuries  of  progress  on  his  brother’s  side  and  the  stasis  of  death  on  his  own  end.

                    Il  Dottore.  How...  fascinating,  this  man  was.

[heygutlcss]

In which Darks Rambles Nonsensically about Brokeback Mountain for @soldwrecked

Okay so the film starts off with boy boys pulling up to the office to get a job herding sheep up on the mountain.  We get a lot of information about both Jack and Ennis even with no active dialogue for the first 5 minutes of the film. Ennis stands very closed off as if trying to make himself small. He’s positioned himself next to the office door so its obvious that he needs this job. His coat is worn and his shoes are rather dusty indicative that he’s a hard worker. Jack on the other hand, drives up in his black truck and is perfectly clean. Nice blue shirt, polished shoes and belt buckle. This tells us a lot about Jack just within the first few minutes of the film. He wants comfort so he dresses a little more stylishly. There’s that old expression “ a man can be too clean” meaning that they are gay and Jack fits this description. He even gives himself a shave in the rearview mirror of his truck, all the while keeping an eye on Ennis who seems to blend into the wall of the office.

Even the distance Ennis puts between himself and Jack is so telling. Doesn’t matter if they are standing, walking, or riding horses. Ennis is protecting himself. He and his self preservation comes first. First actual conversation outside of boundary setting small talk ( which happened in a bar) is up on the mountain where the first thing Ennis says is that he’s saving for a house as he’s going to marry Alma when he comes back down the mountain. The funny thing is that Jack initiates the conversation about wanting his own place so he doesn’t have to be on the mountain, as this is his second year doing so. Jack shuts the conversation down by going back to talk about work right after Ennis mentions Alma. The traditional social niceties where the conversation is concerned is lacking.   Normally, mentioning something as big as getting married would trigger asking more about that, developing a social relationship based on those niceties. The fact that Jack switches back to work and therefore ends the conversation says so much. He tested the waters and found no in, so there’s no need to go on. Jack continues to remain so flashy though, trying to hold Ennis’ attention.

There interaction about losing the food after Ennis comes across the bear and Jack trying to take care of his busted head is another interesting scene. They have a discussion about maybe shooting one of the sheep as all that they have left is a few cans of beans. Ennis says he won’t shoot a sheep because their job is to protect the sheep. He’s very by the rules. I love their lines “ Well I can get by on beans.” And jack replies, “ well I won’t.” its very subtle, but it’s a powerful plot device on their expectations in their roles in society. Ennis proclaims his worldview: to stay inside the rules of society and do what is “right” while Jack plants his flag on firm ground that he can’t live like that.

I think the film and its soundtrack ( or lack thereof) lends  a  lot to the actual silence that these two have to go through in their lives. Its very beautifully done, and the melodies we do hear are very haunting.

After they first have sex and Ennis books it back up the mountain,  the first thing we see is the sheep and one of them having been attacked by a wolf. Some dead sheep gore, but the foreshadowing and literary device of that’s sheep’s death is just *chef’s kiss*. The fact that Ennis catches and hangs up the wolf on a stake also  has a lot of foreshadowing in it. It says a lot about Ennis too.  The wolf didn’t do anything wrong—to kill and eat sheep is just it’s nature.  Another nail in the coffin that Ennis’ character isn’t one to go outside of societal rules. Its followed by a discussion that is brief and distant contrary to the intense conversations they were having before they copulated. T ends with “ you know I ain’t queer.” Ennis. “ me neither”. Quieter, more hesitant. Jack.

 Then that goes right out the window, but its done so elegantly and softly, with little “ I’m sorry”s andjust gentle care. It seems to be the first time that Ennis has been properly cared for. Jack already had his shirt off prior to Ennis coming back to the tent ( even though its freezing??). I don’t know how to pin jack other that incredibly and extremely lonely.

 There is a scene where they have a minor fight and again, its mostly without dialogue. There’s so much frustration. So much to think about. A little bit of unhealthy behavior too, but how else are they supposed to process things in such a rigid world.

Jack’s kind of manipulative.

Ennis’ breakdown and subsequent cut to his marriage really breaks my heart. He really really does love Alma and he really really really does love Jack. Ennis takes her sled riding on their honey moon and there’s some lovey dovey behaviors he has with her that he has with jack. I HURT.

ENNIS IS A GOOD DAD.

Alma is manipulative in the same way Jack is. Ennis is easily swayed with the need to be cared for and sex.

Jack is already downward spiraling and thrillseeking.. Ennis has a good family life. Simple, kind of poor, but he seems okay enough.  I feel Ennis is definitely Bi. Jack I’m not so sure ( tho in the car he does tell Lureen “ fast or slow, I just like the direction you’re goin’.” And he seems to be having a /very/ good time) and I think that’s up to interpretation. Apparently, this is a very heated scholarly debate (whether they both are gay or bi) and very bi-phobic when you get into the meat of the discussion. Fandoms are scary, man.

Lureen is a bitch and their marriage is toxic. But man do they live comfortably. Ennis and Alma are struggling and that’s putting a big strain on their relationship. Jack sends a postcard when they both are at extremely low points in their married lives. This sucks. Jack writing shows Ennis complete severance from his wife. It hurts to see their love and relationship stem from taking and easy way out. It is genuine love, but its also easy in a sense ( not including the nationwide homophobia)

Jack is dressed very cleanly and very snazzy. His truck is very expensive. He seems to be okay with this.

Poor Alma.

At least Ennis chooses to stay with her when Jack suggests leaving everything and going to get their own ranch. Ennis even defends alma. Ennis is also very aware of the fact that being gay could get them killed. He even recalls a memory of being shown a brutal murder of a gay man when he was 9. He has a right to be scared.

Jack becomes a kept man. His parka is LL Bean. Very expensive. Ennis and Alma are falling apart. Its weird to see Ennis have homemaker ideals for her.

Ennis is trying not to cry during his divorce.

Jack just feels so much. He gets his hopes up when he hears about Ennis divorce and is upset about Ennis not going away with him. Ennis girls are right there and Ennis chooses them over Jack.

So the guys in Mexico that Jack goes to are prostitutes.

ENNIS IS A GOOD DAD. Not a present dad, but still good.

Ennis gets a new girlfriend: Cassie. Jack might have an affair with David Harbour.

The “I wish I knew how to quit you” line sums up all of jack’s character. And its heartbreaking. Ennis says that its because of jack that he’s “like this”. “I’m nothin’ I’m nowhere.” Which is true. Previous dialogue int his fight exposes that he needs to work and previously would just quit jobs to come see Jack. That’s why he’s always been poor. He put the easy feel good relationship first. I feel that’s another reason he keeps Jack at arm’s length because it’s a good relationship. If they get into the real meat of things beyond good, that is, the actual work, you can tell how scared Ennis is of it all falling apart because we’ve seen with Alma, Cassie, and even Jack, that Ennis doesn’t let people in and he doesn’t want to put in the work that a healthy relationship needs. Jack just doesn’t think about the long term. He thinks about the now and the butterflies and how good he has it with Ennis on the few occasions a year they get to see each other. But he doesn’t divorce Lureen because she’s rich and he’s gotten used to being comfortable.

Cassie actually has a very good line that is relevant to the overarching love themes between Jack and Ennis. Ennis tells her “ Well I was probably no fun anyway was I?’ about their ghosting each other an ]d breaking up to which she replies, ‘ Ennis, girls don’t fall in love with fun.” All the dialogue is so important.

Jack’s death is so sad. Its obvious that he wasn’t careful. And Lureen is both hurt and sad.  She knows.

You need to see the ending for yourself. Jack’s house. My god his childhood house. The closet!  When you watch it come talk to me!

27:11 – 29:22 the boys get a tent. Very dark and hard to see for me. Very mild can’t see any nudity, just a lot of groaning and a body flip from back to belly.

31:47 – 32:32 naked Jake Gyl cleaning his clothes in the river.

33:20 – 35:09 making out in the tent, cut to distant shirtless rough housing and kissing the next day.

48:58 – 50:59 some kissing and sex/possible anal sex with Alma. No nudity, just implied.

57:55 – 58:45 kissing lureen in the car and visible boobs.

1:04:12 -105;13  lots of kissing.

1:10:16 – 1:10:26 naked swimming

1:19:03 –1:19:50 almost sex with Alma

[qqueenofhades]

Do you really hate this county? Or were you just ranting?

Sigh. I debated whether or not to answer this, since I usually keep the real-life/politics/depressing current events to a relative minimum on this blog, except when I really can't avoid ranting about it. But I have some things to get off my chest, it seems, and you did ask. So.

The thing is, any American with a single modicum of genuine historical consciousness knows that despite all the triumphalist mythology about Pulling Up By Our Bootstraps and the American Dream and etc, this country was founded and built on the massive and systematic exploitation and extermination of Black and Indigenous people. And now, when we are barely (400 years later!!!) getting to a point of acknowledging that in a widespread way, oh my god the screaming. I'm so sick of the American right wing I could spit for so many reasons, not least of which is the increasingly reductive and reactive attempts to put the genie back in the bottle and set up hysterical boogeymen about how Teaching Your Children Critical Race Theory is the end of all things. They have forfeited all pretense of being a real governing party; remember how their only platform at the 2020 RNC was "support whatever Trump says?" They have devolved to the point where the cruelty IS the point, to everyone who doesn't fit the nakedly white supremacist mold. They don't have anything to do aside from attempt to usher in actual, literal, dictionary-definition-of-fascism and sponsor armed revolts against the peaceful transfer of power.

That is fucking exhausting to be aware of all the time, especially with the knowledge that if we miss a single election cycle -- which is exceptionally easy to do with the way the Democratic electorate needs to be wooed and courted and herded like cats every single time, rather than just getting their asses to the polls and voting to keep Nazis out of office -- they will be right back in power again. If Manchin and Sinema don't get over their poseur pearl-clutching and either nuke the filibuster or carve out an exception for voting rights, the John Lewis Voting Rights Act is never going to get passed, no matter how many boilerplate appeals the Democratic leadership makes on Twitter. In which case, the 2022 midterms are going to give us Kevin McCarthy, Speaker of the House (I threw up in my mouth a little typing that) and right back to the Mitch McConnell Obstruction Power Hour in the Senate. The Online Left (TM) will then blame the Democrats for not doing more to stop them. These are, of course, the same people who refused to vote for Hillary Clinton out of precious moral purity reasons in 2016, handed the election to Trump, and now like to complain when the Trump-stacked Supreme Court reliably churns out terrible decisions. Gee, it's almost like elections have consequences!!

Aside from my exasperation with the death-cult right-wing fascists and the Online Left (TM), I am sick and tired of how forty years of "trickle-down" Reaganomics has created a world where billionaires can just fly to space for the fun of it, while the rest of America (and the world) is even more sick, poor, overheated, economically deprived, and unable to survive the biggest public health crisis in a century, even if half the elected leadership wasn't actively trying to sabotage it. Did you know that half of American workers can't even afford a one-bedroom apartment? Plus the obvious scandal that is race relations, health care, paid leave, the education system (or lack thereof), etc etc. I'm so tired of this America Is The Greatest Country in the World mindless jingoistic catchphrasing. We are an empire in the late stages of collapse and it's not going to be pretty for anyone. We have been poisoned on sociopathic-libertarian-selfishness-disguised-as-Freedom ideology for so long that that's all there is left. We have become a country of idiots who believe everything their idiot friends post on social media, but in a very real sense, it's not directly those individuals' fault. How could they, when they have been very deliberately cultivated into that mindset and stripped of critical thinking skills, to serve a noxious combination of money, power, and ideology?

I am tired of the fact that I have become so drained of empathy that when I see news about more people who refused to get the vaccine predictably dying of COVID, my reaction is "eh, whatever, they kind of deserved it." I KNOW that is not a good mindset to have, and I am doing my best to maintain my personal attempts to be kind to those I meet and to do my small part to make the world better. I know these are human beings who believed what they were told by people that they (for whatever reason) thought knew better than them, and that they are part of someone's family, they had loved ones, etc. But I just can't summon up the will to give a single damn about them (I'm keeping a bingo card of right-wing anti-vax radio hosts who die of COVID and every time it's like, "Alexa, play Another One Bites The Dust.") The course that the pandemic took in 21st-century America was not preordained or inevitable. It was (and continues to be) drastically mismanaged for cynical political reasons, and the legacy of the Former Guy continues to poison any attempts to bring it under control or convince people to get a goddamn vaccine. We now have over 100,000 patients hospitalized with COVID across the country -- more than last summer, when the vaccines weren't available.

I have been open about my fury about the devaluation of the humanities and other critical thinking skills, about the fact that as an academic in this field, my chances of getting a full-time job for which I have trained extensively and acquired a specialist PhD are... very low. I am tired of the fact that Americans have been encouraged to believe whatever bullshit they fucking please, regardless of whether it is remotely true, and told that any attempt to correct them is "anti-freedom." I am tired of how little the education system functions in a useful way at all -- not necessarily due to the fault of teachers, who have to work with what they're given, and who are basically heroes struggling stubbornly along in a profession that actively hates them, but because of relentless under-funding, political interference, and furious attempts, as discussed above, to keep white America safely in the dark about its actual history. I am tired of the fact that grade school education basically relies on passing the right standardized tests, the end. I am tired of the implication that the truth is too scary or "un-American" to handle. I am tired. Tired.

I know as well that "America" is not synonymous in all cases with "capitalist imperialist white-supremacist corporate death cult." This is still the most diverse country in the world. "America" is not just rich white middle-aged Republicans. "America" involves a ton of people of color, women, LGBTQ people, Muslims, Jews, Christians of good will (I have a whole other rant on how American Christianity as a whole has yielded all pretense of being any sort of a principled moral opposition), white allies, etc etc. all trying to make a better world. The blue, highly vaccinated, Biden-winning states and counties are leading the economic recovery and enacting all kinds of progressive-wishlist dream policies. We DID get rid of the Orange One via the electoral process and avert fascism at the ballot box, which is almost unheard-of, historically speaking. But because, as also discussed above, certain elements of the Democratic electorate need to fall in love with a candidate every single time or threaten to withhold their vote to punish the rest of the country for not being Progressive Enough, these gains are constantly fragile and at risk of being undone in the next electoral cycle. Yes, the existing system is a crock of shit. But it's what we've got right now, and the other alternative is open fascism, which we all got a terrifying taste of over the last four years. I don't know about you, but I really don't want to go back.

So... I don't know. I don't know if that stacks up to hate. I do hate almost everything about what this country currently is, structurally speaking, but I recognize that is not identical with the many people who still live here and are trying to do their best, including my friends, family, and myself. I am exhausted by the fact that as an older millennial, I am expected to survive multiple cataclysmic economic crashes, a planet that is literally boiling alive, a barely functional political system run on black cash, lies, and xenophobia, a total lack of critical thinking skills, renewed assaults on women/queer people/POC/etc, and somehow feel like I'm confident or prepared for the future. Not all these problems are only America's fault alone. The West as a whole bears huge responsibility for the current clusterfuck that the world is in, for many reasons, and so do some non-Western countries. But there is no denying that many of these problems have ultimate American roots. See how the ongoing fad for right-wing authoritarian strongmen around the world has them modeling themselves openly on Trump (like Brazil's lunatic president, Jair Bolsonaro, who talks all the time about how Trump is his political role model). See what's going on in Afghanistan right now. Etc. etc.

Anyway. I am very, very tired. There you have it.