#otherwise you can take it as self evident that i am right and correct about everything in the world forever

[corviiids]

light: when i was talking to ryuzaki he--oh by the way ryuzaki ive been saying "he" but what do you prefer L: interesting. do you think this could be relevant to the kira case, yagami-kun? light: no, just curious. light: (is this a trap? would kira care about something like masculinity? no... kira is a paragon of justice. he would never misgender someone.) L: maybe yagami-kun thinks that a name and a face are not enough. does he think kira may also need a gender? light: interesting theory. is that why you don't have pronouns in your bio, ryuzaki? light: (ive got him. the other officers will never respect him if they find out L is a transphobe! wait, they're cops. damn it. has this all been for nothing?) L: ive actually taken the liberty of making fake pronoun pins for everyone in the squad, to ensure your security. here, yagami-kun. or should i say... yagami-chan. light: neopronouns?! (do i give off nya/nyam/nyaself vibes? or is this another clever ruse? he still hasn't even told me his own pronouns...) ryuk: hey, light. don't forget about the deal. the shinigami eyes would let you see anyone's pronouns at a glance. light: (forget it! im not giving up half my life just to they/them ryuzaki!) L: id just like to flag for the audience that im aware this is a stupid bit but don't worry it's over now

[hologramcowboy]

Sorry this is long, but I kind of needed to get this off my chest and share my thoughts with you about this. Just clarifying up front, I am not an AA or a Danneel/Jenneel stan. At all. But here are my thoughts:

I think people need to realize that we are seeing the real Jensen in this police video. He's not performing for fans or telling stories to con-goers or being interviewed by the media. This is the closest we will ever get to see the real him outside of his public persona without knowing him personally.

Saying that, and keeping my thoughts to myself about some of his questionable comments while also still empathizing with what he went through, I just wanted to throw a few things out there that maybe people should take into consideration.

One, I could be wrong but the vibe I've gotten the last few years that was cinched by what he said here in the interview is that Danneel (while being everything you guys have stated she is) seems to suffer from anxiety and it's impactful on her daily functioning. Let me clarify that I am not saying that all people who have anxiety cannot function (please do not take that away from what I'm saying here; I suffer from anxiety myself) but it seems to be something that they as a couple (and family) have to deal with because it's been something Jensen has implied several times throughout the last few years. (not sure if it's something that has recently progressed or not) He talks about her running a tight ship, having a list of things daily during quarantine that he needed to do that she gave him, that the house is always super clean, the dishes in the sink thing, what happened when she had gotten better from covid, that she is like a general or whatever he said exactly, all of it. That video one of your anons shared recently of her "best" moments showed the livestream with Jewel and both Jensen and Danneel mentioned that Jensen had to tell her that they wouldn't get sick. She literally had to hear him say the words because of how anxious she was about it. And he knew that so he said them, reassuring her consistently. If you check out the full livestream, they even talk about how she immediately called him from the car after being in the grocery store where a cashier told her to get her and her family to safety when the pandemic started (before quarantine), and he had to reassure her that they were going to be okay. Not to mention that she does talk about her anxiety extensively in it. I do think there is something there that really relates to what he said in this police interview. I'm not trying to defend Danneel on main, but in this one instance if I'm correct or anywhere near it to what both of them have implied time over time, I get why she would get anxious talking about what happened and how it might have happened to him and why she might avoid the topic, and why he wouldn't push the issue. It still doesn't justify not trying to find a way around that, to support your partner in a crisis, or trying to be that sounding board with say a therapist present or another family member so you can discuss it in a calm and reassuring setting. And I think one of your recent anons is correct as well, when Jensen mentions this to the detectives, he does his usual and explains away/justifies/diminishes what he's just said in case whoever is receiving this information would think otherwise (like his whole 'my wife isn't a big drinker so to fly she needs to do a few shots' which is bs about the not being a big drinker thing because how many drunken livestreams have we gotten from her, Steve, Gen, etc.). I think he does that because he's used to doing that. But I also think you're right in that he lets little things slip, intentional or unintentional, and then backtracks or justifies so it doesn't sound as bad or makes her (or their marriage) look bad (while actually failing at both). Saying this doesn't take away from her being an attention seeker or self-absorbed because it's very evident that she is, but I just like to try to look at all sides. We always talk about how things are so telling about their home life and relationship; this is one of them.

Two, I don't think it's fair for anyone to judge or criticize any statements that Jensen made in this interview. That doesn't mean people can't feel how they feel, discuss it, or even take issue with it. Of course they can. But I think people should look at the context and treat this one piece of footage we see him in as something that is not up for the usual criticism if that makes sense. Like I said above, he made some questionable comments but I'm not going to list them or delve into it. He really is, in this video, just another human being who witnessed a tragic event happen where someone lost their life, was traumatized by it, and is answering detectives' questions about it as honestly as he can. He's obviously nervous here, rambling and overexplaining while doing his usual nervous tics which showcase it even more so, and he's trying to process what he's saying, what he's remembering, and the fact that what happened to Halyna could have easily happened to him or someone else. That's a lot for any person, celebrity or non-celebrity, to come to terms with, process, and heal from. No matter how close they may have been to the victim, relationship wise or even vicinity wise. It's A LOT. So I don't think it's fair to do the usual dumping shit on Jensen for his sometimes careless and tone deaf comments (not saying you're doing that, I mean other people on this site) in this context. This piece of media wasn't meant to be consumed by the public from a Hollywood fan perspective; it was meant to be consumed by the public from a legal and civilian-informative perspective. So I just don't agree with ripping him apart in this one context just for the sake of doing it. Like I said, people can feel how they feel and discuss, share their feelings on it (and fuck AA's who say otherwise), but those who are just using it to hate on the guy, I don't agree with. Not in this one instance.

Three, maybe this sounds incredibly obnoxious or condescending since I don't know the guy personally (and I don't mean it to), but I'm incredibly proud of him for taking the step to seek out a therapist and go. Even though he says he has never seen one before. I'm proud of him for admitting to himself that he may need to see someone after undergoing this trauma, admitting that maybe he needs that outside help to get through it, and for going. Like, good on you, dude. I just want to see him (as a respectful fan) happy and healthy, flourishing and thriving. And despite the problematic things he's said/done lately (before this video came out the other day), that he will learn, do better, and be just overall a good person. If things aren't working between him and Danneel, then that can't be healthy for either of them or the kids by extension, and I hope they make the right decisions for themselves and their family moving forward.

I just want to put a little positive energy out there for this interview and try to keep things a little balanced (as much as they can be in this situation). There has been so much negativity surrounding it, from AA's attacking the video poster and trying to sweep it all under the rug & making baseless claims against the detectives, to people just absolutely ripping him apart for things he's said or claiming he's covering for Alec or whatever other nonsense, inside the fandom and out. It seems like some people forgot the one basic emotional response that should come from this type of situation: empathy. Even sympathy (for Halyna's family). I really feel that the most important person, the most important point in all of this, has been lost in everything surrounding Jensen and his account of events, and that's a beautiful, brilliant, kind, and hard-working woman lost her life, leaving a young son behind. And it didn't have to happen. That's the real tragedy and what people should be focused on, or at the very least keep in mind as they rip him apart in this interview or rip apart the video poster for calling Jensen a B-list movie actor or go on to talk about how hot Jensen is in the comments of said video.

Have a good rest of your day and thanks.

I'm going to quote my two very parts of your beautiful post, Anon. "I just want to see him (as a respectful fan) happy and healthy, flourishing and thriving. And despite the problematic things he's said/done lately (before this video came out the other day), that he will learn, do better, and be just overall a good person. If things aren't working between him and Danneel, then that can't be healthy for either of them or the kids by extension, and I hope they make the right decisions for themselves and their family moving forward." Same, Anon, Same. As for Danneel, I suspect she suffers from way more than anxiety but I'll leave it at that. "I really feel that the most important person, the most important point in all of this, has been lost in everything surrounding Jensen and his account of events, and that's a beautiful, brilliant, kind, and hard-working woman lost her life, leaving a young son behind. And it didn't have to happen. That's the real tragedy and what people should be focused on" THIS. People are creating needless drama and ignoring the truly painful reality and what we could learn from it.

[nothing-more-than-hot-leaf-juice]

Hi fren! Been following ur blog for a while and honestly I love it! I was wondering if I can get ur thoughts on something :)) remember in sozins comet when Iroh refused to fight ozai becuz “history will see it as more violence, a brother killing a brother to gain power” but then cue to Azula and Zuko who are fighting for the throne and it’s fine?? with them?? doesn’t that count as more violence as well? Thank if you ever come across this :D

Okay, first off, I think it needs to be clarified what Iroh actually said in that scene in regards to sending Zuko to defeat Azula because the two situations are very different and everyone involved knew that. The exchange went as such:

Zuko: Uncle, you’re the only person other than the Avatar who can possibly defeat the fatherlord.... we need you to come with us. 

Iroh: No Zuko, it won’t turn out well. 

Zuko: You can beat him. And we’ll be there to help. 

Iroh: Even if I did defeat Ozai, and I don’t know that I could, it would be the wrong way to end the war. History would see it as more senseless violence: a brother killing a brother to gain power. The only way for this war to end peacefully is if the Avatar defeats the Firelord. 

(dialogue, etc.) 

Iroh: Zuko, you must return to the Fire Nation, so that when the Firelord falls, you can assume the throne and restore peace and order. But Azula will be there waiting for you. 

When I see the argument that Iroh sending Zuko after Azula was hypocritical, I think it ignores the reality of the situation and the pragmatic approach. Because Iroh was absolutely correct throughout this whole exchange. Here were the facts as of this point: 

1. Iroh and Zuko were declared traitors and could not legally assume the throne once Ozai was defeated, meaning Azula would assume the throne by default.

2. By this point in the series, Azula had shown at every point that she was just as enthusiastic about waging war and had shown no remorse for the suffering of the Earth Kingdom at the hands of the Fire Nation. She was particularly enthusiastic about the two major affronts against the Earth Kingdom: conquering Ba Sing Se and using Sozin’s Comet to burn down the Earth Kingdom. 

3. Azula was the one who had the idea for the ‘let’s use the comet to burn down the Earth Kingdom’ plan in the first place and was proud of that plan. If Ozai was defeated, she would have used her position to go through with the plan anyway.

Realistically, this situation is in no way ideal, but the reality is that Azula did need to be stopped from assuming the throne. Make no mistake, if she had the opportunity to do so, she would have been at Ozai’s side burning down the Earth Kingdom instead of staying in the Fire Nation. She was dangerous and needed to be stopped and that was evident from her actions throughout the entire series. 

And the situations of Zuko defeating Azula and Iroh defeating Ozai are completely different, mainly because it was never Zuko or Iroh’s intention for Zuko to kill Azula like everyone else was planning with Ozai. The intent with Zuko going after Azula was to stop her from being crowned, which was a thing that needed to be stopped, otherwise, the war would have continued. And Iroh was absolutely correct in his assumptions: Zuko and Katara arrived in the Fire Nation just before Azula was crowned Firelord. And in the end, as we all know, they didn’t kill her, they just removed her as a threat so Zuko could assume the throne. There is a difference between taking out an actively harmful force in a position of absolute authority (Ozai) and stopping a harmful force from taking a position of absolute authority (Azula). 

There’s also the facts that 1. Iroh had his own history as a general who held siege on Ba Sing Se for 600 days, allegedly committed war crimes, and wasn’t exactly well regarded in the Earth Kingdom. 2. Like he said, a fight between Iroh and Ozai was not one that had a clear victor. Iroh was not the right person to defeat Ozai, Aang was, for many reasons. (There’s also the fact that Iroh’s arc came full circle as he freed the city he once laid siege on, but that has less to do with the pragmatic rationale behind the match ups and more to do with thematic purposes.)

And this is a thing that also bothers me. There’s an argument that Iroh failed Azula and that part of the reason she was how she was fell on him and I don’t think that’s fair. And this post by @withyoutilltheendofthecredits articulates why: 

the ideas “azula was a victim of abuse who was manipulated and hurt by ozai” and “azula had a hand in a lot of trauma for zuko due to her awful treatment of him” can and should coexist

I think it’s important to keep in mind whenever we talk about Iroh, Azula, and Zuko how their dynamic was in season 2. Firstly, Iroh’s priority through this show was to keep Zuko safe. In season 1, he wasn’t so much there to actively help Zuko find Aang (and on multiple occasions seemed to work against Zuko’s mission), but rather was there to stop Zuko from making stupid decisions that would get him killed while offering emotional support and training him to be a better firebender. Does he actually want Zuko to kidnap the Avatar and return to his awful, abusive father? No. But he does want Zuko to have something that gives him hope, something that keeps him going. And Iroh’s priority is to be there to make sure this kid doesn’t do anything too reckless. 

 In season 2, Zuko technically no longer has his mission as he’s deemed an enemy of the Fire Nation and Iroh more explicitly works to help his nephew mentally and emotionally extricate himself from the family members that hurt him. At the beginning of the season when Zuko is excited about going home after Azula lies to them, Iroh voices his suspicion because unlike Zuko, who’s still holding onto the idea that he can win his father’s love, Iroh is able to look at the situation objectively and knows that if Zuko goes home, he’s not going to be safe and he is not going to be met with any sort of love. 

Zuko: Did you listen to Azula? Father’s realized how important family is. He cares about me. 

Iroh: I care about you!

And through the rest of the season, Iroh tries his best to take advantage of their new freedom by showing Zuko that he does deserve control of his own life, happiness, and unconditional love. He’s trying his best to help him through this difficult time because part of Zuko’s emotional struggle in this is reconciling with the fact that no, his father doesn’t want him, at all. When he was banished, he had the ‘if I get the Avatar I can go home’ thing to cling onto, but Iroh and everyone else knew that Ozai never actually intended for Zuko to succeed or return. So Zuko has to deal with that in season 2 and doesn’t get to that point, he still tries to capture Aang and he still joins Azula in Crossroads of Destiny because he’s not ready to let that little bit of hope that he could return home go. It isn’t until he takes a stand against Ozai with the “it was cruel and it was wrong” speech that he really discovers who he is and what he wants and the main reason he’s able to come to that conclusion is because of Iroh’s treatment of him in season 2. 

In season 2, Iroh not only protects Zuko from physical harm and takes care of him in regards to sickness, food, and water, but tries to drill into his head that he didn’t deserve the treatment from his father and shouldn’t throw his life away trying to please him. That he can have and deserves a peaceful life. And Zuko keeps going down the self destructive path because he’s been convinced for so long that him proving himself to his father is more important than his personal safety or happiness. Iroh just wants him to put himself before the man that abused him. He hates it that Zuko almost gets himself killed multiple times for the sake of Ozai. There’s their talk in The Avatar Day and their fight in Lake Laogai that bring this to the forefront: 

Iroh: Even if you did capture the Avatar, I’m not so sure it would solve all our problems. 

Zuko: Then there is no hope at all 

Iroh: No Zuko, you must never give into despair. 

Iroh: And then what?! You never think these things through. This is exactly what happened when you tried to capture the Avatar at the North Pole. You had him and then you had nowhere to go. 

Zuko: I would have figured something out. 

Iroh: No! If his friends hadn’t found you, you would have frozen to death! 

Zuko: I know my own destiny. 

Iroh: Is it your own destiny? Or is it a destiny someone else has tried to force on you? 

And as Iroh acts as Zuko’s protector and tries to break him away from his self destructive mentality, how does Azula fit into that? Here are the interactions between Azula, Zuko, and Iroh in season 2: 

Azula trying to take Zuko and Iroh as prisoners to the Fire Nation with no remorse 

Azula attempting to shoot lightning at Zuko in the first episode of season 2 and Zuko only being saved by Iroh redirecting it at the last second 

Azula shooting Iroh and seriously injuring him (it could have been lighting, but I think it was just fire) 

Azula trying to capture Iroh and Zuko in Ba Sing Se and succeeding 

Azula manipulating Zuko into going back to Ozai 

Objectively, Azula is a threat against Zuko’s safety and there’s a good chance she would have killed him in the first episode of season 2 if Iroh hadn’t stopped her. He knows exactly how dangerous she is and made the decision that he was going to do what it took to keep Zuko safe, which he did. With this exchange in Bitter Work. 

This isn’t Iroh saying ‘I have no sympathy for my niece whatsoever and am choosing to ignore her’. This is Iroh saying ‘Azula has proven herself to be an objective and real threat and I need to keep Zuko safe from her.’ And he was correct. I feel like this stance is reasonable when the last two times she saw them she tried to shoot Zuko with lightning and actually shot Iroh. 

And the reality of the situation is that Iroh shouldn’t have had to be the one to raise Zuko or Azula. He wasn’t their parent and he shouldn’t have had to be responsible for them. Ideally, Ozai should have been the one to do that, but that wasn’t the reality of the situation. And Iroh was faced with a choice: go with Zuko who was banished, injured, and lost, or stay with Azula who was not in a good home with a good influence, but who was still the favored, prodigy princess. He had a choice of which kid to stand behind and I think it’s fair to say that Zuko needed Iroh more when he was banished. 

Ideally, there shouldn’t have been a choice for Iroh. Ideally, Iroh shouldn’t have had to raise his nephew. Ideally, Azula should have had a better parental influence who didn’t encourage her violent streak. But it was by no means an ideal situation. Azula was dangerous and remorseless and Iroh was entirely correct when he saw her rising to power and realized ‘if she isn’t stopped now, there is no telling what she’s going to do’. Because he knows exactly who raised her.

[jaeminzie]

ignorance is bliss | h.rj

↳ huang renjun x gender neutral!reader

synopsis: staying true to the courageous gryffindor persona, you secretly admire renjun using unusual tactics, forgetting that the fellow ravenclaw is fairly quick witted.

genre: fluff

word count: 2,339

part of ‘the dreamies in hogwarts’ series

huang renjun, the ravenclaw wallflower who you’ve been stalking according to your best friends. indeed, it is odd to stay in the library until ungodly hours solely for the breathtaking view from a few tables in front of the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen. though every view and every angle of huang renjun is breathtaking, it doesn’t take much work when you look like that. being as stubborn as ever, you would never admit to stalking the poor boy. you believed that that was an exaggeration, that your friends don’t understand how it feels to be so blinded by him and you are utterly confused on how they aren’t blinded by him. instead, you claim it as a way to get an understanding of the boy’s, who you do plan to interact with sometime in the future, mannerism — which you mentally admit sounds just as creepy as stalking, not helping your case at all.

so there you are, sitting alone in a table a bit further than usual from renjun using a book to cover your lower face to avoid any suspicion. not only are you stubborn, you are also unbelievably oblivious. so oblivious, in fact, that you aren’t aware that the boy who you’ve been “observing” has already noticed you staring at him the second week of your trips to the library. in your defense, you visit the library no more than four times a week as you loathed the smell of rotting book paper and dusty wooden furniture. unknowing of the boy’s acknowledgment of you, you continued to admire from a far. loving the way his plump lips pouted naturally while reading, his circular silver glasses sat perfectly on the bridge of his god-shaped nose, how careful his eyes scanned through the pages and the way his fingers absentmindedly tapped on the table as a way to keep himself sane from the amount of studying he chooses to do willingly which appalled you. but once in a while, he’d give himself a break by sketching on his notebook causing all the lines on his forehead and the pout on his lips to disappear. this is your favorite part. seeing him find his peace in drawing made you feel the same sense of warmth and tranquility that you suppose he feels when creating art, completely unaware of a gryffindor staring him down — or so you thought. ignorance really is bliss, or else, you wouldn’t be so shameless right now.

renjun means to speak to you one day as his confusion progresses each time he sees you walk through the ginormous library doors and choose a spot where you both have clear views of one another. when you look away, pretending to read the book in your hands, renjun looks your way with furrowed eyebrows trying to figure out what exactly do you want from him. why you still manage to fail your classes despite spending many hours “studying.” yes, you can say that he observes you as well since your houses share a couple classes with each other. from his observations, he’s learned that you’re quite the helper. renjun wonders how you weren’t sorted in hufflepuff. perhaps, a hufflepuff isn’t bold enough to stare at a stranger in a nearly empty library for many consecutive weeks. though, a gryffindor should have the courage to at least speak a single word to that person, a simple ‘hello’ would be a nice place to start.

it took him some time to admit it, but he found pleasure in staring at you as well. his slytherin friends practically had to force it out of him once they kept noticing that his gaze was almost always set on you since his group sat in the back of your classes, it was easy to admire without being caught unlike your questionable tactics. renjun admires how you keep trying and trying to answer a question correctly even when your raised hand is being blatantly ignored by the professor after getting a handful of questions incorrect. and don’t even get him started when he catches a glimpse of you laughing with your peers, then he can’t keep his eyes of off you. there’s been countless nights of him unintentionally going on about you and your character to his peers relaxing in their ravenclaw common room. at this point, the whole house of ravenclaw has heard your name come out of his mouth at least once.

from your clear view, you notice how focused renjun is with his hands seeming to move themselves while his mind continued to run on you. renjun straightened his back after finishing the last few strokes on his sketch. a sketch of you sitting on top of a table identical to the one you seated at right now with your legs swinging and your red robe nearly hitting the floor, eyes crinkled as your smile that he loves to look at reached up to your ears. his first drawing of you, he was proud of it and was sure it wouldn’t be the last drawing of you he’ll make.

you were taken back when you had noticed renjun was already gathering his belongings. he usually goes back to reading after finishing a drawing, you recalled back to the mental schedule you created in your mind. wow you really are a creep. you thought. too caught up with being offended by your inner self insulting your actions, you were completely unaware of the boy dressed in blue standing next to you.

renjun gaped as he thought you were ignoring him. having enough, he finally spoke, “can i help you?”

freezing in your seat when you heard his smooth voice laced with confusion, refusing to face the boy since you are definitely not prepared for this moment. fixing your posture and clearing your throat, you mustered your left over confidence as you chose to not further embarrass yourself in front huang renjun.

completely changing your body language to a more laid back manner and facing the boy, trying not to evidently show your breath being taken away from seeing him up close. his left eyebrow raised with his lips pursed slightly, fingers fiddling with the books by his side. he looked even better close in front of you, you had previously thought that was impossible. but you were so wrong, making you slightly mad at how perfect he seemed to be.

“nope” popping your ‘p.’ “do you?”

renjun’s facial expressions relaxed slightly. “no, i don’t.”

“why’d you come here then?” you mentally cursed and slapped and pinched and kicked yourself for accidentally not sounding the friendliest, your nervousness acting for you. “you sure you don’t need my help?”

renjun was taken back from your tone, oblivious to your feelings. there’s the gryffindor. they always have to be boasting. renjun huffed at his thoughts. he had not expected your first talk to be like this. your tone lightly hit his pride, so he automatically had to retaliate, “you’re the one to talk. you have an explanation for not being able to keep your eyes off me?” renjun laughed mockingly but not at you, at himself for being such a hypocrite.

defeated, you couldn’t keep up your relaxed attitude, “i. . . i just. . .” the eye contact you both shared was so intense you couldn’t even think straight, and neither could he. “s-sorry for bothering you. i’ll. . . leave you alone.”

before you could stand up from the chair, renjun pulled out the one beside you and sat facing your body. he sighed, “i’m sorry too. that didn’t come out as intended. but i need to know if i’m being too hopeful or not?”

hopeful? you remind yourself to pinch yourself later in case this a dream or some sort of spell. you hoped that your friends didn’t do anything without telling you since they’ve been suggesting that you use a love potion to “make everything easier,” but you profusely refused their incredibly stupid proposition each time they had brought it up to discuss.

“do you need tutoring, is that why?” he continued. his arms sat on his knees.

each and every one of his words entered one ear and went out the other as you wondered on what he was feeling hopeful for. “hopeful?”

his lifted his elbows off his knees and placed them on the table slowly, looking as if he was thinking. “i just thought that maybe you had reasons other than academic ones for coming here when i do.” he spoke very, very slowly that it was torturing. “am i right?”

you hated every second of this for the awful awkward tension, but this is the moment that you’ve been daydreaming of for weeks. though, you were shocked at how renjun noticed you despite trying to be as sneaky as possible — but your friends and renjun would say otherwise. “if i say yes. . .” your eyes wondered around his figure seated in front of you.

“i would be correct then.” he finished the sentence for you, not baring to wait longer. he moved his head towards your gaze on the floor behind him to try and get your eyes to focus on him.

and when you did, you saw the sparkle and hint of joy in his eyes making you feel truly confident. “then yes.”

—

it’s been nearly a month since your first interaction with one another, and renjun never misses a day of making fun of your past actions that you now admit were creepy. though after his friend, lee donghyuck, informed you in his own sneaky actions that you weren’t able to notice before, you have not let him live peacefully. renjun’s friend group was ecstatic when he told them about finally speaking to you and being with you. but renjun’s fully aware that they were more excited over the fact he can finally stop moping over not knowing how to approach you, achieving their peace since he can finally stop talking. though, he has a new topic to gush over — your relationship.

being together side by side and actually conversing with one another allowed renjun to see you in a deeper level, giving him more reasons to appreciate the special being that you are. he loved every second he spent with you. hearing you laugh at something that he had said or done makes renjun feel like he had reached the top of the highest mountain. holding your delicate hands while walking through the hallways made him feel like the most successful man on earth, and he proudly bragged over it. renjun loved how he felt so at ease and encouraged whenever he felt your presence around him. you don’t even need to be right by him to make him feel reassured. your presence alone was enough.

and you especially loved how he still chooses to love all those things despite your questionable actions in the past.

you loved being with him so much that you tolerate being in the library and actually reading beside him, or at least try to read. though, he has to hold your hand in order for you to fully commit yourself into studying with him. but both of you don’t complain.

you sat in a vacant table in the library, but this time, you sat next to the boy who you used to admire from a far. bouncing your leg out of boredom, “can we take a break?” you whispered in his ear.

renjun let out a small breathy laugh. “we just got here.” he whispered back, his gaze not leaving the thick book in front of you both.

your mouth slightly hanged open and you tightened your grip on his hand, “lies.” renjun squeezed your hand back playfully, still not looking at you. “please, jun, we’ve been here for an hour and you need to give yourself a break.”

silence.

you let go of his hand and puffed when he still didn’t spare a glance at you. defeated once again, you slid his notebook toward you and flipped through the pages, trying to entertain yourself by reading his notes. how fun.

widening your eyes in awe when you came across a page that showed a sketch of a person who looked exactly like you, with small hearts and tiny sparkles surrounding the figure sat on a table. your fingers lightly brushed the page, admiring how talented your boyfriend is.

“i drew that the day i came up to you.”

still strucked, you faced him and you were finally met with his beautiful eyes. “i think you need to update it. i look a bit different now.” you suggested with a smile that he cannot let down.

he hummed, “yeah, a tad bit huh?” you nodded eagerly which he laughed at. “i suppose i should work on it right now.” he reached for his notebook and flipped to an empty page, fixing his position so he can get a proper view of your face.

renjun did not hesitate to start drawing. he knew every detail of yours by heart, he honestly could draw a portrait of you relying solely on his memory. renjun has got every line, dot, and scar on your divine profile engraved in his mind since he thinks about you every second, literally. though, he still chooses to look up from his notebook to get a view of your face. not because he had forgotten a detail, but because he can’t refuse an opportunity to admire that face of yours. returning back to sketching with the most genuine smile you’ve ever seen on a person, with his pupils dilated. you definitely didn’t mind going to the library more often if you get to see renjun like this each time. you speak for both of you as renjun seems to be enjoying this moment just as much as you are. renjun’s hand that isn’t occupied reached for yours, with a grip that made it seemed like he’d never let go.

[risquefanfics457]

omg hi!! i was the one who requested the American reader! with Jojo’s and i. LOVED. it!!!! if i can, could i please get another one of the American reader but the Jojos having to deal with others harassing or bullying them because of their accent and how unintelligent they seem to be? i have an accent that most people think i am dumb because i don’t say things properly or grammatically correct. it had always been an insecurity for me since i had speech issues within my childhood and i grew up where they speak in an accent or that form of grammar.

Of course, I’m so glad you liked the last one I did for you! ❤❤❤

I hope you like this one as well!

Jonathan

“Dearest, what has you down?”

He is immediately worried. 

“Just somebody in town made a comment about my speech.”

“Why? You speak fine.” He tucks a finger under your chin, “Fluently and beautifully.”

You smile, “It’s just that it reminded me of what my classmates used to say.”

Jonathan who knows much about teasing prods, “What did they tell you, my love?”

“It’s stupid.”

“I’m sure it, please.” He sits you down.

“It’s, just that... they used to say things about my accent. They’d make fun of me.”

“That’s dreadful.”

“They called me stupid.”

He lifts your chin to meet your eye, “Well, it’s not often I hear something so wrong.”

“Thanks, Jojo, but I can’t help but feel like they were right.”

“My love, the last person I heard who was that wrong told me the Earth was on a flat surface.”

You laugh, “You’ve met somebody that dumb?”

“I can’t say it’s anything compared to what those kids told you.”

You lean up against his chest, “I love you, Jojo.”

“As do I, love.”

Joseph

It was just an ordinary day, Joseph had gone shopping with you.

As you were checking out, the person at the register asked you for $46.99. You asked if cash was okay, and they squinted at you. “Pardon me?”

Once again you asked if you could pay in cash, and again the guy raised an eyebrow, “I’m sorry, but your accent is too thick. Can speak to your husband, instead?”

Joseph flies off the handle. “WHAT DID YOU SAY?”

He grabs the cashier by the collar and pulls him up, eye to eye. “My hearing is a bit off, you wanna say that again?”

“No, no, no, sir.” The cashier waves their arms around and stutters, “Please, put me down!”

Joseph holds his hand out for you to pass him the money, “$46.99. Ring it in.”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir!”

Joseph glares at him until you leave. “We are never buying anything from there ever again.”

“Why did you do that?” You slide your change into your pocket.

“There are too many people in this place who don’t respect people who are different, take Smoky as an example. Nobody disrespects people like that, not my friends and especially not you.”

He won’t cool down for a while. He needs some snuggles.

Jotaro

“And what would you two like to order?”

“A plate of spider rolls, would be great, thank you.”

“I’ll have the same,” Jotaro adds.

“I’m sorry what was that, dear?” The waitress asks

“2 plates of spider rolls, please.”

Yet again she asks you to repeat, and you have to say it again

She asks one more time before Jotaro slams his fist on the table, “Spider rolls. Two plates to go and make it fast, I’m tired of you wasting our time.”

She glares at you and hurries off to the kitchen.

Later after other customers give you the hairy eyeball, she finally arrives with the food in styrofoam containers. “And how will you be paying, today?” She fake smiles.

“We’re not. You are. Thanks for embarrassing my partner and me, you bitch.”

With that, he takes your hand and you leave. “Jotaro, you stiffed them the bill!”

“And they deserved it.”

“Why?”

“Yare yare. Because your confidence is worth more than what she gets paid.”

You squeeze his hand in yours.

Josuke

It had been a long school day, and you were strolling down the halls.

You had your arms linked with Josuke, who was taking you out for ice cream once the bell rang.

From behind you, you could hear the snickering of some girls you knew all too well.

“Wow, Josuke. Dating them? Don’t you want to take out somebody who can actually talk?”

The girls laugh among themselves and you just decide to keep walking as if you didn’t hear them, but Josuke stops in his tracks.

“What was that?” He stiffens. 

Oh, uh.

That was the telltale sign he was pissed. You haven’t seen him stop that suddenly since some guys dissed his hair. You felt bad for how bad the new nose job was that they received. 

“Josuke,” You plead. “They aren’t worth it.”

He whips around to face you, rage evident in his eyes, “You are well worth it, Y/N.”

You watch him turn around and march right up to them, his height seems to be getting clearer to the girls, who were incredibly outmatched. “Care to repeat that?” He practically steams with rage.

The ring leader shrivels away, “It was just a joke, Jojo.”

“Don’t you dare call me that,” His fist reaches the wall up above them, “Only they can call me that,” He offhandedly points in your direction. 

“You wanna find out what happens when you dis them?” The girls begin to pale and shake in their uniforms. 

“HIGASHIKATA! Detention, now!”

You ended up having to tell Tomoko that Josuke was also suspended for threatening students. He missed getting ice cream

But you couldn’t be more flattered. And those girls wouldn’t bother you, ever again.

Giorno

It was a leisurely day when you had told him about how you were insecure about your accent. 

He was braiding fresh flowers into your hair using his stand to grow them. “Cara, there is nothing wrong with the way you speak.”

“That’s not what other kids would say,”

“My love, those kids were thinking of themselves. To boost their self-confidence, they picked on you”

“How do you know?”

“I was bullied a lot as a child as well, love.”

“How did you deal with it?”

“I didn’t waste my time on them. They get nothing out of it if you ignore them.”

“I wish I’d known that sooner,” You pluck some petals off a flower, which is far from the rest, and a different colour.

“Cara, those people are imbecilli. It’s beautiful to be unique, to be special.” He takes the flower from your hand and a golden hand lays in the dirt. 

Soon more flowers, ones just like that one you had began to sprout all over. “Cara, everything is special and wonderful, you have to be blind to see otherwise.”

One flower grows around your wrist and blooms in your palm. 

He leans in, “I am not blind, love.”

[ahkaahshi]

2:09 AM [sakusa kiyoomi x reader]

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x gn reader

genre: angst with a fluffy ending; comfort

warning(s): mild swearing

word count: 1.8k

overview: sakusa makes an uncharacteristically late night call that finds him right back in the arms of one of the few people he’s learned to trust

It’s 2:09 AM when Sakusa finally accepts that he seems to have difficulties sleeping without you. He’s spent the entire evening tossing and turning, his mind too restless to allow him more than a few minutes of peace. There’s a lingering discomfort in the pit of his stomach that swells each time he glances over at one of his team sweaters resting atop the desk at the other end of the room. It’s still neatly folded, as it had been by your careful hands, left undisturbed since the arrangement in which you’d returned to him.

He feels sick at the situation he’s gotten himself into. At how he’s sleeping by himself instead of at your side. At how he pushed you away. At how he made a decision for you that you might not have made yourself—and how wrong he was.

It had been a week since he’d broken up with you, and he’d spent a week regretting it.

He often told himself as consolation that the concept of right or wrong decisions in gray areas such as this was ridiculous. That they were only choices that lead would lead down different paths, neither more correct than the other. But this… this felt wrong. The error of his ways seeped into his gut, clouded his mind, and pounded against his head on nights like these when sleep evaded him. But he wasn’t quite sure how to remedy the situation.

How could he be sure you wanted him back when his words had shattered the calmness of your expression like a storm does the glassy reflection of an otherwise still lake? When you’d come to his apartment to drop off his sweater and a few stray items he’d left behind with just a “Here you go,” and nothing more? When he was the one who had broken your heart?

He was sure you’d never want to see him again, so he hadn’t tried to see you again, in spite of his need to fix the mistake he’d deemed selfish.

There’s a haunting, smothering quietude to his room. No sheets whisper against your skin as you shift beside him to readjust your body in your sleep. No gentle sighs pour onto his shoulder from your drift into a deeper slumber. No quiet murmurs escape between your lips while you respond to your dreams. Just his heartbeat thrumming against his ribcage and his shaky breaths, then the heavy dragging of his phone against the wood of his bedside table when he picks it up.

Your name is on his screen in an instant, and he wonders if you’ve changed his name in your contacts yet. Before he can even process what he’s doing, the gentle buzzing of the dial tone pierces the silence. Fuck. Is he even ready to have this conversation now?

The phone you feel to have been staring at all night lights up on your own nightstand, breaking the darkness and brings you to alertness with its quiet but shrill chimes. Upon picking up the device, you’re met with your ex’s name and face, making your eyebrows furrow both in anger and confusion.

What the hell’s he thinking, calling me at two in the morning? You let it ring once.

Why’s he calling me at all? What does he want? You let it ring twice.

Maybe something’s wrong. What if something’s wrong? You pick up on the third ring.

“Hello?” Your greeting isn’t met with a response. “Kiyoomi…?”

“Hey.”

His voice sounds as heavy as your heart feels. “Uh…” you mumble, unoccupied hand moving to grip your other wrist in an attempt to ground yourself, “Is… everything okay?”

“No. It’s not.” He could never lie to you, even if he wanted to—but the desire never crossed his mind. “(F/n), I…” he drifts off, his jaw clenching as he breathes out a quick sigh of irritation with himself. He clearly wasn’t prepared to make this call, and he hates that he’s disturbed you at such an early hour out of his own selfishness.

In the silence that follows, three, distinct words plaster themselves at the forefronts of both of your minds. They’re those each of you wants to speak but they’re not the same ones. With each second that ticks by filled with anticipation, marked by lips parted as they wait to voice your desires, you find yourself growing more desperate to tell him your three words.

But he speaks his first.

“I fucked up,” he whispers, the soft timbre of his tone a far cry from that of the commands you’ve heard him shout across the court.

Raking his fingers through his dark curls, he continues, “I self-destructed, and I didn’t know what to do. So, I tried to save you by speaking for you, telling you that you were better off without me. But I shouldn’t’ve done that.” You take your lower lip between your teeth as tired eyes sting with tears. “You’re strong; you can speak for yourself. You don’t need or want me to do it for you, especially not when I’m wrong.”

“Kiyoomi…”

“I’m sorry.” A nearly inaudible, shaky breath falls from his lips. “If I could take that moment back so you never had to feel that kind of pain and doubt, I would. I don’t expect forgiveness. I don’t expect anything, not with the way I pushed you away even after you’d shown you’re the person I can always trust the most.”

The truth behind his words makes your fingers curl tighter around your phone. 

He’s right. 

Earning Sakusa’s trust hadn’t been easy, initially, but over time, he’d let down his guard. Laid his head on your chest to let your heartbeat lull him to sleep rather than turn away from you. Spoken to you about what was really bothering him rather than giving you a superficial overview or dismissive response. Let your shoulder be the harbor and safe havens for his emotions when he couldn’t hold them in anymore. All because you’d accepted him each time he chose to step under the blinding light of vulnerability, where all his most intimate thoughts and feelings were exposed without any darkness in which they could hide. Because you’d loved him for who he was, because you love him for who he is, because you will love him for who he becomes in the future.

Sadness brings tremors to your lips and beckons your fingers to your eyes to brush away a few stray tears. Him turning his back on you in a time of need, choosing to fall deeper into the hole he’d dug for himself rather than into your outstretched arms ready to catch him had hurt you the most. The suddenness of his cold behavior had shocked you, and the moment he’d walked away from you had replayed itself in your mind on an endless loop the entire week. But his honesty with you now, admitting to his mistake rather than moving on and away from you, shows you he still loves you—that he never stopped, rather.

After swallowing thickly, the ball of emotion in your throat making it hard to do so, you let your three words be known.

“I miss you.”

His response is almost instantaneous this time: “I miss you too.”

Your lips form a relieved smile though they carry a subtle taste of salt.

An invitation extended to him to come over finds him at your door no more than a half an hour later. The fatigue and stress he’s been experiencing is evident in the darkness beneath his eyes and the slump of his shoulders, but he has no qualms with standing in the entryway for a few minutes longer while the two of you hold one another in a tight embrace. His warmth and the faint but ever-present scent of his favorite laundry detergent lingering on his clothes lifts the fog that has been clouding your mind, and you can feel his body melt into your arms as his head comes to rest beside yours.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs, “I won’t let my thoughts get the better of me like that again, okay? I’ll talk to you, and I’ll be here for you.”

You reply, “I love you too,” and feel his grip around you tighten when you add, “You’re safe with me.”

When the two of you pull away, he follows you along the familiar path to your bedroom and sets his backpack down in the same spot as always—right by his side of your bed, next to the nightstand. It’s only been a week, but things have felt so different without him around that watching him follow the same routines, such as the way he methodically adjusts your pillows to just the right angle and height before peeling back the comforter and sheets, gives you immense comfort. Crawling into bed beside him brings your bodies close once more, and your fingertips find his face out of habit, tracing over his handsome features and moving stray curls away from his weary eyes.

His nose brushes against yours moments before your lips meet in a tentative kiss, as if he’s testing the waters. Your fingers pressing into the nape of his neck to keep your mouths connected pulls him beneath the surface, and he allows himself to get lost in the depths with you for a bit instead of questioning where you’re going. He doesn't feel the need to.

It’s both lazy and fervent, the way your lips meld together, and your kisses reflect a yearning for each other that eclipses your exhaustion—for a few, blissful minutes, at least. You hum gently when your mouths part for the last time as sleep takes its hold on you. “You need to rest,” you suggest, “Can we talk sometime after you get back from training tomorrow?”

He nods slowly, head heavy with a week’s worth of fatigue, and answers, “Of course.” Beneath his dark fan of eyelashes, Sakusa’s gaze follows yours while you turn on your side away from him, glancing over your shoulder as a silent request for him to take up his usual spot behind you. His arms snake around your torso and the bed dips, bringing your back flush against his chest. Your fingers interlace with a set of his that you naturally hold close to your chest, and he nestles his face in the crook of your neck, planting a gentle peck against your exposed skin.

With you, there’s a peaceful, weightless quietude. He hears your legs shuffle beneath the covers as they readjust and the gentle sigh that leaves your mouth as you drift off to sleep. Feels your heartbeat against the back of his hand while he basks in the familiar warmth emanating from your body that fits against his so seamlessly.

His warm breath cascades over your skin when he exhales deeply once more, and finally finds solace in the slumber that comes to him almost instantly.

when night falls masterlist

when night falls taglist (send an ask to be added!)

@why-aminot-dead, @yamagucji, @toutorii, @shibayamasbae, @tsukkisbean, @devlovesiwa-channn, @captain-shittykawa, @ghblh, @postsfromthe6, @omibaby, @deerixiie, @oikawoahh, @stormlights

[icyxmischief]

Loki Ep 1 Pt 2

Blow by blow review, take 2: 

--The “sign this to verify that this is everything you’ve ever said” thing is genuinely hilarious.  I find it a little unlikely that he wouldn’t have ultra-suspiciously, with great characteristic paranoia, looked through every single page, and grilled the guy with the cat for info on where he was.  Little bit ooc for humor there, which is a major pet peeve of mine. 

--”Do a lot of people not know if they’re robots?” Okay this part was great bc it showcased Loki’s natural propensity to get into trouble because he’s such a curious cat and intellect, lol. 

--His scorn with “take a ticket” when only two variants are in the room is also very IC because Loki despises order without logical reason.  Order for its own sake is dangerous and oppressive and heyyyyy a lot like Thanos’s idea of a universe, ain’t it. 

--The All-Knowing Time-Keepers ended a timeline war, huh? H M m m m m M m m . They destroyed the capacity for nexus event and a multi-verse to exist huhhhhh? H M M M M M M M M .  Do I smell the potential for many Lokis from many Marvel canon verses, among other things? 

--

BITCH ME TOO, THE FUCK. 

--Okay I know everyone hates the logo but I kind of love how it is as fluid as Loki himself? A shape shifter? A master of magic and illusion? I’m sorry to all the graphic designers out there but I’m digging it for Conceptual Art reasons lol. 

--I’m sensing that if the French kid in 1549 thinks a horned devil caused a massacre in a church, this is evidence of Loki escaping the TVA to jump into the 1500s in France to cause mayhem. A bit predictable and I am hoping otherwise, but he IS Loki, “between damnation and redemption” at all hours.

--Owen Wilson’s character is strongly established as a good guy from the start.  

--”Madam, a god doesn’t plea.” Biiiiiiiiiitch yasssss.

--OHO he figured out the Avengers were time-traveling already, sharp. The reason why, he’s so far off that one must cringe for his fall from pride to come. 

--His laugh, that’s all. 

--”Hang on, everyone quiet, don’t rush me,” lol <3  Not a fan that once again he’s not allowed to use his full powers except within a contained system, but I’ll take it.  For now. 

--”You ridiculous bureaucrats will not dictate how my story ends.”   Wahoo if this series and character have a thesis statement, there it is.  Loki, God of Stories, forger of his own fate even when all tides run against it. 

--Loki doubting the reality of the TVA is an interesting hint into how much illusion was used to torture him as well as his own hyper reliance on illusion to protect himself. 

--Loki assuming Agent Mobius wants to kill him when Mobius is just showing him kindness is soooooooo revelatory of where Loki is psychologically right now.

--He still has his trademark swagger :D 

--”For the record this really does feel like a killing me kind of a room,” LOL, I love it, they’ve somehow kept his sense of humor spot-on! 

--”Trust is for children,” ahhhh kono kokoro. 

--”I live within whatever path I choose.” Ah, Loki, I wish you could, but is it so simple? 

--The fact that he tries to kill Mobius immediately and Mobius stops him while being fair and level-headed? I’m really liking Mobius. He’s the dare I say friend Loki has needed for a long time. 

--[Cooperation is] not my forte.” “Really, even when you’re wooing someone powerful you intend to betray?” Oho, okay Mobius, how long have you been serving as the metonymic stand-in for Loki’s fandom “army” and watching him grow and change  and self-sacrifice in the intended timeline? How well do you know him? You seem to know a lot, and that may be a good thing. You could be his advocate.

--”KING OF WHAT EXACTLY?” OH DAMN YES, MOBIUS, KEEP GOING.

--”WHY DOES SOMEONE WITH SO MUCH RANGE JUST WANNA RULE?” TFW A MARVEL CHARACTER HAS READ MY BLOG??????? YES?????? VINDICATION???????

--HE IS LITERALLY UNRAVELING THE TOXIC IDEOLOGY FORCED INTO LOKI UNDER THANOS???? ABOUT THE “LIE OF FREEDOM”?????? THIS IS AMAZING????

--”I don’t have to play this game. I’m a god.” Oh honey. Put the hackles down now, it’s okay.  You have far more heart than that, and far more accountability.

----Allowing Loki to see his entire “correct” (gulp) timeline (and God help us all if the end of this series involves him choosing to die in order to “fix the timeline,” I will RIOT if we get one more cheap “you’re only redeemed if you die horribly” growth arc for a morally ambiguous character) was the most important thing for me as a Loki fan of 10 years.  Allowing him to weep openly, to come to terms with the loss of his mother and the (too little too late, but at least extant) apology of his father, and, most of all, the potential to regain camaraderie with his brother, this was all that I wanted. A Loki allowed to flex his own muscles in his own limelight, no longer defined by what he lacks, but by what he can uniquely offer (even if in the “service” of an ethically dubious authority).  A Loki who KNOWS how much his brother has suffered and grieved but who still has his own freedom.I am admittedly optimistic.  The tone of the show is excellent.  My only fear at this point is a sacrificial death ending. Hopefully Loki will machinate a way to survive without breaking the universe with his divergent timelines, lol. Perhaps that’s the whole purpose of the plot going forward.

[marshmallow-xphile]

My thoughts on the sexuality of some of my favorite X-files characters.

I posted this in my X-files amino back in June as part of a LGBTQ pride challenge and for some reason I only just thought to post it here as well.

Fox Mulder: openly bisexual

Mulder is so open sexually that I really don't think gender matters all that much to him. He does seem to prefer females but I wouldn't be even remotely surprised if he had a boyfriend or two in the past. I don't think he's flamboyant about his sexuality but I don't think he'd hide it at all either

My evidence:

In the season one episode "Ghost in the Machine" we meet an Mulder's ex-partner, Jerry, and I absolutely feel like there is an ex-lovers vibe to the both of them. They hug upon first seeing each other, Mulder looks incredibly happy to see him, when Mulder says they worked together Jerry corrects him to say they were partners at which point Mulder looks over at Scully as if to see her reaction. Mulder has this real guilty look to him. When Jerry acts a little self conscious Mulder is real quick to jump in and reassure him. They get in each other's personal space. It just really leaves me with the impression that they care deeply for one another and broke up for other reasons, perhaps the different career goals as Mulder tells Scully.

We also have Mulder with Krycek. From the very beginning of Krycek's involvement with the X-files I feel like the writers went out of their way to make a correlation between the change in partnership and a new partner in a relationship. There is a scene in Sleepless where Mulder and Scully are on the phone and Mulder tells Krycek he'll be right there, the rest of the conversation feels reminiscent of two exes chatting about the change brought about by the new relationship. Scully even brings up that it must be nice having a partner who doesn't question his every theory.

There were many scenes in Sleepless, Duane Barry, and Ascension in which Mulder and Krycek were alone but that we never got to see who knows for example what the two of them got to talking about while they were stuck in traffic during the drive to New York in Sleepless. Or how often they hung out between Sleepless and Duane Barry.

During Mulder and Scully's partnership Mulder only called her 'Dana' on a few emotional occasions. He started casually calling Krycek 'Alex' almost immediately.

Let us not forget the infamous speedo scene. While yes it definitely showed more of a Krycek attraction to Mulder than the opposite. It does make one wonder what led him to wear such a revealing bathing suit. How many straight men do you know who wear speedos? My guess is few. How many straight men wear speedos when they can reasonably assume their male partner will show up looking for them? Not many would be guess.

And then there is their relationship after Krycek is revealed to be a traitor. They both tend to act more like scorned lovers than enemies and notice that it's Mulder, not Krycek, who cannot seem to keep his hands off the other. Seriously it's like every time Krycek shows up, Mulder immediately grabs him.

Now here's a couple quotes from Mulder,

Krycek tells Mulder he most be losing it because Krycek beat him with one hand. Mulder's immediate reaction: "isn't that how you like to beat yourself?"

When the little man in Humbug is lined up pretty much exactly with Mulder's crotch he says that Mulder would be surprised how many women find his size alluring. Mulder's immediate reaction: "you'd be surprised how many men do as well"

How many straight guys do you know comfortable enough with their sexuality to make a gay innuendo? I personally cannot think of any.

Dana Scully: bicurious

I believe that Scully is sometimes attracted to women. It definitely is not as blatant as with Mulder and I really don't think she's had any past girlfriends but I definitely think that there is an attraction.

My evidence:

In the episode "Ice" I really felt like there are a few tender moments between her and Felicity Huffman's character especially while they were examining one another for the worms. That examination had a sort of sexual energy to it I thought.

In the episode "kill switch" theres a moment where the Invisagoth asked if she could have her handcuffs removed or if she should type with her tongue. Mulder mentions that she doesn't want a vote there and the look on Scully's face and the way she licks her lips, I definitely get the impression that she would have been perfectly happy to see what Invisagoth could get up to with that tongue.

Some people point to Scully's relationship with Reyes as evidence of her bisexuality, I personally don't see any attraction there on Scully's side but I don't think its outside the realm of possibility.

Monica Reyes: Closeted lesbian

This one's probably a surprise I know there was something between here and Brad as well as a flirtation with Doggett so you would probably think she was Bisexual but honestly was either one of those even remotely convincing? To me they weren't. I believe that Reyes is a lesbian.

I kind of go back and forth on whether she's open about it. Reyes is very spiritual and open so it seems strange that she would be in the closet but maybe she has a reason, fear of it affecting her career in the FBI perhaps? It just seems strange that she keeps pursuing these heterosexual relationships she has no passion for unless she is trying to hide her true passion.

My evidence:

I admit I really have very little evidence but look at the relationship between Reyes and Brad Follmer. It had all the chemistry of two people who got really drunk once and cannot remember sleeping together. I don't for a second believe she was ever in love with Brad nor he in love with her.

Then you've got the same thing between her and Doggett. Yes the writers were obviously trying for a romantic angle with the two of them but to me it never came across as convincing. It seemed more like she thought of him as a good friend and figured she might as well date him, I saw no evidence of love or attraction.

On the other hand look at her and Scully. While I feel like the attraction there was one sided I definitely feel like Reyes was into Scully or Dana as she would call her. Reyes was willing to risk her life for Scully and yes that is her job after all but Reyes seems to take that above and beyond and it's not just Scully herself but also William. Look at how protective Reyes is of William in The Truth and of the sacrifice Scully made in giving him up. She seems to care even more than Mulder on that.

Cigarette-Smoking-Man: Asexual

CSM has probably had sex at some point, he is of course the father of at least three children but I do not think that he was ever in love with any of these women or even attracted to them. I believe they were all just a means to an end.

I believe that CSM's only love was for his cigarettes

Evidence:

There is a little bit of evidence that he might have actually felt something for Teena Mulder but I don't buy it. He freely admits that he felt nothing for Cassandra Spender but he must've been convincing if he got her to marry him and we have seen him fake emotions more than once. He also seemed to show an attraction to Scully in En Ami but that too was just a means to an end. Perhaps he does feel something towards all the women he has impregnated but I wouldn't call it love. I don't see any real attraction there either. My bet is that CSM needed some "help" in order to produce his offspring.

Alex Krycek: Gay

While Krycek did have an obviously sexual relationship with Marita Covarrubias he definitely didn't have any real feelings for her and I don't buy attraction either. No I'd say they were both just trying to use sex to get what they wanted. His anger at finding the Russian boy gone wasn't because he was heartbroken at her betrayal. Merely mad that she'd managed to get the upper hand.

Whether Krycek is open or in the closet I'm not sure, I'm thinking it probably depends on the mission hes on at the time.

Evidence:

Of everyone on this list I'd say Krycek is the one I'm the most sure of. There is no doubt in my mind that Krycek was attracted to, perhaps even in love with, Fox Mulder. From the very beginning there appeared to be a bit of longing in his eyes.

There was the speedo scene wherein Krycek was definitely checking Mulder out. There were several scenes where Krycek could've killed Mulder but chose to help him instead.

As I've seen pointed out before, Krycek's crazy motivational choices don't make any sense at all unless it's all in an effort to be around Mulder more.

Look at his sense of style and his obvious love for lip gloss. I am not saying that straight men cannot love lip gloss and dress themselves in Krycek's fashion but it is uncommon and it was especially so back in the 90s

The infamous kiss in The Red and the Black could certainly be explained away as some kind of Russian custom but it isn't one that I am aware of and he hasn't really shown any other signs of his Russia heritage.

I would say my best evidence of Krycek's sexuality is in Essence and Existence, just look at the look on Krycek's face when Mulder trusts him to protect Scully. Krycek knows what Scully means to Mulder and then look at how seriously Krycek takes the job! I definitely feel like that moment meant a lot to him and he would have protected Scully with his life for Mulder.

There's also the fact that Krycek's unwillingness to kill Mulder lead to his own death.

Of course asking Skinner to shoot Mulder goes against this theory but I do have a couple thoughts on that, the most sensical being that he knew there was no chance Skinner would shoot Mulder and he probably knew there was no chance he would survive anymore. Maybe he made that request in hopes of sparing Mulder any pain he might have otherwise felt at his death (I know it's a bit of a stretch but my other theories require a long explanation of my thoughts on where the series had planned to go next)

The lone gunmen: no one knows....not even them

Three (I don't count Jimmy for this) single adult men who all live together in very cramped quarters and are, at least in Langley's case, perfectly happy to be around each other without thier clothes on certainly makes it seem like there's something between them all but I really don't get a overtly gay impression with any of them, even Langley who as mentioned doesn't like to wear pants and is the only one who hasn't had a love interest. They just have this sort of Vegas-esque thing. "What happens in the bachelor pad/newspaper room stays in the bachelor pad/newspaper room.

I would love to hear other people's thoughts on these and any other X-files characters you think might be somewhere on the LGBTQ spectrum.

[whitherliliesbloom]

towards a tomorrow

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #28 - bow ]

[ illya & kirishimi ] ★ [ 2,062 words ]  ★ [ period drama au ]

for matchi’s period drama au. briefly mentions illyanaud, laurelis and kaye. 

bow-  to bend your head or body forward, especially as a way of showing someone respect or expressing thanks 

kirishimi didn’t care for frilly dresses or etiquette unless it was to make a statement - so she gets lessons from the most ladylike friend she knows

“Gods, shite! How do people breath in this stupid thing?!” 

Amongst the light breeze of the midafternoon wind, the melodic chirping of the songbirds and the sound of water splashing freely from the white marble fountain, Kirishimi’s less than ladylike words pierce through the air as she puffs her chest in with a low grumble and is followed by the soft and gentle bell-like chimes of a younger girl’s giggles a few feet next to her.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think the corset can be loosened any further, I made it as loose as I could for you already.”

“Can I just take it off then?” Kirishimi asks, hopeful even as the shorter lalafellin girl shakes her head calmly with am apologetic frown, her vibrant violent eyes swirling with sympathy.

“I wish you could but... Laurelis designed the dress with your corset in mind.. It just wouldn’t fit if you didn’t-”

“Shite.”

Yet another swear tumbles carelessly out of Kirishimi’s lips, and Illya lets out a soft, barely audible sigh before flashing her taller friend yet another gentle smile.

“How about a short break then? I think you’ll feel a little better if you take a breather.”

“Yes please!”

Without even a seconds’ hesitation, Kirishimi grabs the frame of the hoop skirt beneath her bright orange dress with her hands and marches to the gazebo before slumping down onto the white garden chair and kicking her matching pair of high heels off. She leans down to massage the soles of her feet with a grimace, feeling light indents where the rim of the heels had dug into her feet and wondering if there was going to be blisters forming under her hosiery by the end of the day.

In contrast to the almost unruly way she’d retreated under the shade of the white and purple gazebo, Illya in comparison was the very picture of elegance. With only the tips of her thumb and index finger, the young lady lifts the hem of her frilly lavender dress before climbing the steps up to the gazebo. Despite wearing lacey embroidered heels that seemed like they were even more of a pain to wear than her own, Illya’s balance was perfect, each footstep graceful and deliberate so much that Kirishimi could barely even hear the little tap of her heels against the floor. 

Even the way she sat upon the chair, taking her time to tuck her dress beneath her thighs before sitting herself down and folding her hands neatly upon her lap - it wouldn’t have made Kirishimi felt self-conscious any other time before today. But it was exactly because she was here now, for the exact same reason she’d even agreed to commission an over the top ball gown from Laurelis that she swear to never wear outside of it’s intended use, that she quickly decided to correct her posture. 

The taller woman feels out of place - as she typically does, but especially next to her considerably more demure, ladylike friend. Surrounded by the jewel toned walls of the Skawi mansion, the flawless marble tile paths that circled the garden and practically shined in the sunlight and the bed of delicate spring flowers that filled the air with a light floral fragrance, it would be hard for her not to feel even a tiny bit like a fish out of water.

“Thanks again, Illya. For agreeing to teach me.” Kirishimi opts to speak, breaking the long hanging silence as if in sheepish apology. She knows she isn’t the best student, and so the least she could do was be cooperative and nice to the girl who is graciously lending her her time and efforts. 

“You’re very welcome, Kiri.” With a radiant smile, Illya nods her head, her innocent expression bright and at home with her subtle movements of grace. The birds that sat upon the mansard roofs sing in tandem with the sweetness of Illya’s voice. “I’m honored that you would come to me for lessons about etiquette. Even if it is to...um... break the social construct.”

Mismatched eyes widen in a panic, and the older woman leans forward over the table and raises her voice a tad.

“Hey, I hope you don’t misunderstand me! There’s nothin’ wrong with being prim and proper! I’m not tryin’ to do anythin’ to disrespect you! I just-”

“I know.” Illya speaks, her brilliantly pure white hair fluttering gently in the breeze like a wavy silken veil over her head. “You’re just trying to be you. You have the courage and strength to stand up to people who would try to tell you do otherwise. I like that about you.” With yet another euphonious, soft giggle, Illya raises a hand up to press against her chest. “Besides, you wouldn’t have come to me for a favor if you truly did have malicious intent, would you? The fact that you called Laurelis and I for help means that you trust us.” 

A soft blush rises up to Kiri’s face where speckles of white snow glowed lightly from the heat from her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Her gloved hand moves up to rub the side of her neck sheepishly, and she cannot help the toothy grin that adorns her face.

“I guess you’re right.” the woman murmurs. “I also... admire you a lot, you know? You’re so sweet, and nice... a bit too nice, honestly. You don’t even get angry when idiots spout lies about you...”

Kirishimi would be lying if she said she didn’t feel an immense amount of admiration for Illya’s ability to stay as calm and collected as she does - even above the seemingly effortless way she’d conduct herself like the society’s perfect definition of a ‘lady’. 

But there wasn’t envy... it wouldn’t be warranted, especially since Kirishimi knew that behind the perfectly immaculate way Illya would hold herself as the young mistress and future heiress of her family name, came a set of troubles and insecurities that she too was struggling with. 

It’s evident by the flicker of melancholy in Illya’s eyes, like a field of delphiniums and hydrangeas that were drooping in the midst of a drizzle of rain and grey storm clouds, even with a forced, stepford smile gracing her delicate and fair features. They were lovely, beautiful even in their imperfect sadness.. but Kiri could not bring herself to feel anything but sorry at the sight of them.

“And I wish I were even half as strong as you. You’re able to stand up for what you want, for who you are... If I had a fraction of the courage that you possessed then perhaps... I could have...” The girl looks down, the silver band that she’d refused to wear hidden deep in the depths of her dress pocket weighing far more heavily than it ever did before. “I could have stopped my uncle from calling for the engagement...”

The Skawi family had well deserved respect from the capital, and with it came a reputation and image they had to uphold. And with their fame, came the inevitable greed from the current head of the family - the man Illya could barely even bring herself to think of as family, the younger brother of the long deceased patriarch, Lachlan Skawi. 

Selling himself and the name of the Skawis wouldn’t be enough for the man - and so he’d sold the dignity of his niece as well by calling for an arranged marriage.. something that Kirishimi knew would not be solved with a few simple social statements and protests. It involved the name of the Skawi family, and worse still, it involved the capital. 

Internally, Kirishimi wonders what Young Master Alphinaud intends to do. Word about mistress Skawi’s engagement to one of the members of the royal bloodlines has spread far and wide by now, and he would undoubtedly be working tirelessly for a way to stop the marriage. 

But if the combined efforts of Laurelis’ family, the Leveilleur household, Hien’s influence as a well respected foreign emissary wasn’t enough to convince Illya’s uncle to call off the engagement, what else could they hope to do?

“You’re stronger than you think you are, Illya.” Kiri reassures, her tone gentler than is usual for her, as is the light, reassuring smile upon her face. “You took the first steps to realize your own dreams, didn’t ya?” 

Kiri gestures to the carnation earring she wore that dangled lightly with gleaming white pearls, and Illya raises a hand up to brush against her ear lightly. The earring was a gift from Master Alphinaud, the man she owes much to... Her mentor, her dearest friend and...

A dust of red rises up to Illya’s cheeks and spreads to the tips of her pointed ears as she nods.

“It’s... It’s thanks to everyone... and especially Master Alphinaud that.. that I finally started to learn medicine. If it weren’t for everyone’s support, I wouldn’t have-...”

Illya holds her tongue, pressing her lips into her fine line as Kiri allows the silence to fester, until she grins at the look of renewed determination upon the young maiden’s face.

No, Kirishimi is right. She certainly may owe much to her friends and loved ones, and she wouldn’t have taken that first steps towards realizing her dream to become a doctor had she not met Alphinaud... but it took great strides of her own too, a strength and new found courage to stand up to the ones who doubted her - one that she felt determined in full to carry on for as long as she needed until her dreams are fulfilled and she can be free from her own social constructs that are weighing her down.

“Once all this is over.. could you teach me how to fence, Kiri?” Illya asks, eliciting a surprised hum from her taller friend. 

“You wanna learn how to fence?” The woman asks... not in dissuation, of course... but in mild disbelief that a girl as sweet and gentle as Illya would be interested in the sport. She’d say yes, of course, regardless of Illya’s reasons. She’d teach Illya whatever she wanted to learn especially since the girl had been kind enough to be teaching her etiquette. But she still cannot help but to be a bit curious.

“I admit I’m not the strongest or physically well built... I’ll probably be a really bad student but-”

With a wave of her hand, Kiri dismisses Illya’s words with a hearty, loud laugh that echoes throughout the garden, warm and bright in the midafternoon sun.

“You’ll be great, I guarantee it. You’re quick on your feet and I think you’re a lot more fit than you give yourself credit for.” If Illya’s ability to function without fault all way in tight corsets and high heels are anything to go by, at least. 

With a bright smile of gratitude, Illya thanks her friend warmly with a bow of her head before standing herself up from the chair, circling around the table and gesturing to the haphazardly abandoned orange heels that laid on their sides next to Kirishimi.

“Let’s continue, Kiri. We still have much to practice for the day!” Illya shrugs her shoulders when Kiri groans, slipping her feet back into her heels before reluctantly standing herself back up. “You remember what I said about the proper way to curtsy is, right?”

To demonstrate, Illya holds the sides of her dress, barely pulling the hem up from the ground and crossing her legs before dipping herself down gracefully like a ballerina... and Kiri could only let out a lazy grumble in protest.

“Can’t we rest for a little while longer? I hate this curtsying shite.”

“The faster we get this part of the lesson done, the faster we can move on to table manners.” Illya’s innocent smile is bright and radiant, belying the little hint of mischief laced under the tone of her knowing voice. “I’ve already asked for the pastries and sweet tea to be prepared, you know? Kaye should be arriving with them any second now.”

“Curtsy? Got it. Left foot behind right???” Mismatched blue and red eyes fly open, and the woman does a full curtsy that elicits yet another light and airy giggle from Illya. 

“It’s the right foot behind your left. Not too quickly, now. Let’s try that again.” 

[tiramisiyu]

【未定事件簿】  Tears of Themis: Xia Yan Personal Story 4-4 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Xia Yan Masterlist | Video

Chapter 4: 4-1 / 4-2 / 4-4 / 4-5 / 4-6 / 4-7 / 4-9 / 4-10 / 4-11 / 4-12 / 4-13 / 4-14 / 4-16

North District

Ji Xiaoyu and older sister Ji Xiaoqing originally lived in a two-bedroom apartment in the north district, left by their parents.

After that apartment was forcibly seized by the loan company, the sisters started to rent an apartment.

Xia Yan and I came to the place that Ji Xiaoyu was now renting, according to the address Sphinx gave. However, we waited for a long time, during which Ji Xiaoyu never showed up.

Xia Yan: According to Sphinx, Ji Xiaoyu took on three to four part-time jobs at the same time after Qian Yi’s death.

Xia Yan: Within a few months, she took on a severely high workload from morning to night. Typically, she returns home at around 11:30 at night.

Xia Yan: However, she suddenly left all her jobs two days ago.

MC: Could she be engaging a lawyer for a lawsuit? To repurchase her parents’ real estate?

MC: She’s saved enough money now and needs to focus on the case, so she left her jobs?

Xia Yan: Possibly.

MC: Then I could probably provide her legal assistance to talk to her, right? Perhaps she’ll be more willing to communicate with us then.

Xia Yan: Okay. I’ll say that I received a commission to investigate the Bedo Loan Company trap loan issue, and that I’m preparing to help my client file for a civil compensation lawsuit.

Xia Yan: If she wants to file for a civil lawsuit, she’ll probably be willing to talk to us.

Xia Yan and I were in the middle of talking when we heard faraway footsteps – it just happened to be Ji Xiaoyu.

In the video Xia Yan and I had seen in the afternoon, Ji Xiaoyu’s condition could be called “haggard” or “fragile”.

But now… she was basically skin and bones, surrounded by an air as heavy as death, and her face was completely frozen.

--

START INSPECTION

⊳ Box and leaflet

MC: (A casket and a cemetery leaflet…)

MC: (So she worked hard to accumulate money to buy a place in the cemetery for her sister?)

MC: (The casket looks newly bought. She’s probably selected a place at the cemetery and is preparing to bury it…)

 What are the injuries on her right wrist?

⊳ Wrist slit injuries ⊳ Scrapes

MC: (Injuries layered on top of each other… she must have attempted suicide many times.)

MC: (Though they look like old injuries, she really doesn’t look like she’s come around…)

 ⊳ Clothes

MC: (Her clothes are splitting at the seams, yet there was no attempt to fix them… it looks like she doesn’t care about herself.)

 ⊳ Eyes

MC: (Such severe dark circles. She must not have slept in a long time…)

--

MC: (Ji Xiaoyu’s condition does not look good at all. I should carefully observe some more and think cautiously first.)

 END INSPECTION

MC: Xia Yan, Ji Xiaoyu…

Xia Yan: Mhmm, I know. We have to find out what’s going on with her as soon as possible.

Xia Yan and I walked towards Ji Xiaoyu. However, she walked past us expressionlessly, without even giving us a single glance, as if we did not exist.

We could only double back a few steps and block her with outstretched hands.

Xia Yan: Hello, you must be Miss Ji Xiaoyu?

Ji Xiaoyu: …

Xia Yan: I am a private detective who’s received a commission to investigate the case of Bedo Loan Company’s trap loans.

Xia Yan: This case will open trial soon. My client plans to collect evidence to file for civil litigation.

Xia Yan: Miss Ji, may I ask you a few questions?

Xia Yan: With your clues, I might be able to find a few new investigative directions.

MC: Miss Ji, I am Lawyer MC.

MC: If needed, I can provide legal assistance for you and help you file for a civil compensation lawsuit.

Xia Yan and I handed her our own namecards, but Ji Xiaoyu did not take them.

She searched up the employers indicated on Xia Yan’s and my namecards, only stopping when she saw news that involved my legal defense.

She lifted those lifeless eyes slightly.

Ji Xiaoyu: What do you want to know? Do you want me to serve as a witness or write a testimony?

Ji Xiaoyu: I’m fine with it all. Only… my sister will be buried within a few days. Please do not give me trouble during this time.

MC: Understood, we will be careful.

Xia Yan: My apologies, Miss Ji, but we have a request right now.

Xia Yan: Can we speak with you about the progression of events for this matter? Of course… I understand that this will make you remember unhappy matters.

Ji Xiaoyu’s expression remained as numb as ever. Only her lips pursed slightly.

Ji Xiaoyu: … Come with me.

--

Ji Xiaoyu’s Residence

We followed Ji Xiaoyu into the place she was now renting.

That was a room of a mere ten square meters. The room was filled with a musty smell, as if no air had circulated here in a long time.

Miscellaneous items were piled in the corner of the room. Only the two boxes of corrugated cardboard near the door were uniquely neat and tidy.

Ji Xiaoyu: I’m guessing that you wanted to ask why I ended up in that trap loan?

Xia Yan: We do have some questions about that.

Ji Xiaoyu: Because I wanted to buy something, but was short by two thousand dollars.

Ji Xiaoyu did not wait for us to continue asking and began to speak.

Her tone as she spoke was completely emotionless and smooth, as familiar and indifferent as if she had repeated it many times.

Ji Xiaoyu: I feared being criticized by my classmates if I bought something so expensive suddenly, so I did not borrow from them.

Ji Xiaoyu: Back then, I thought that I would be able to repay it the month after, when I received my wages.

Ji Xiaoyu: I never thought that I would end up trapped.

Ji Xiaoyu: Because I could not pay back the money, they said that if I agreed to take a nude photograph, they would extend the time I had. Otherwise, they would tell my sister and school immediately.

Ji Xiaoyu: Foolishly, I took the photos.

Ji Xiaoyu: So after, I was even more scared of telling my sister, and I didn’t dare call the police. And for my reputation, my sister could only bear the humiliation and not call the police.

She narrated until the end, a heavy self-mocking gradually settling itself into her voice.

MC: (Miss Ji…)

Ji Xiaoyu: What else do you want to ask?

--

START QUESTIONING

⊳ Qian Yi

Xia Yan: Miss Ji, you once accused Qian Yi and Bedo Loan Company of being related. But the police concluded that evidence was insufficient after investigation.

Xia Yan: What did Qian Yi do during the case?

When this name was brought up, Ji Xiaoyu’s frozen face suddenly distorted as she clenched her fist.

Ji Xiaoyu: He never came to collect debts with that loan company before.

Ji Xiaoyu: He merely kept providing me and my sister’s whereabouts to those people.

MC: Providing your whereabouts?

Ji Xiaoyu: After Bedo Loan Company took away me and my sister’s house, we thought everything was over.

Ji Xiaoyu: But they refused to release us, saying that I still owed them money, pushing me to work at a karaoke bar to return the money.

Ji Xiaoyu: Otherwise, they would reveal that photo to all the people around me and my sister.

MC: …

Ji Xiaoyu: Sister moved houses with me several times to hide, but he kept finding us very quickly.

Xia Yan: After finding you, what did he do?

Ji Xiaoyu let out a strange laugh.

Ji Xiaoyu: Nothing at all.

MC: Nothing at all?

Ji Xiaoyu: He merely appeared near our rental location and smiled at us smugly.

Ji Xiaoyu: After, the scoundrels from the loan company would come to our door.

Ji Xiaoyu: Once, big sister couldn’t bear it anymore and begged him to let us go, but…

--

[Flashback]

Qian Yi: You say that I’m following you and revealing your locations to Bedo Loan Company. Then… “where’s the evidence”?

Qian Yi: Under the clear heavens, all is balanced. You cannot slander others based on nothing.

Qian Yi: I simply just… somehow always manage to run into you. Maybe this is some sort of destiny?

Qian Yi: Then, I just happened to bring you two up with those that I know.

Ji Xiaoqing: Then… what will it take for you to stop bringing us up?

Ji Xiaoqing: You all have already taken all our money—

Qian Yi: Miss Ji, people are also a sort of financial property.

Qian Yi: According to what I know, Miss Ji, you just hopped to a big company with a pretty decent annual salary?

[Flashback end]

--

Ji Xiaoyu: Sister originally wanted to move out of the city, but my student enrollment is within Stellis.

Ji Xiaoyu: Which is why we’ve always stayed here.

Ji Xiaoyu: Bedo Loan Company and Qian Yi were basically two colluding villains.

Ji Xiaoyu: But in the end, the police said that there was no evidence and they could only let him go.

Ji Xiaoyu let out a mocking laugh.

Ji Xiaoyu: I’ve heard people call this “procedural justice”. What is justice, then…

Xia Yan: …

MC: …

 ⊳ Relationship to Qian Yi’s death

Xia Yan: Miss Ji, according to my investigations, you bought a restricted blade the day before Qian Yi’s death.

Xia Yan: That day, you were given a violation ticket from police for carrying prohibited items, and the blade was confiscated.

Xia Yan: After Qian Yi’s death by cardiac arrest, the police also investigated you.

Xia Yan: Back then, a police officer testified for you, saying that he had been keeping an eye on you secretly, and that you did not have the time to commit the crime.

Xia Yan: But if I’ve guessed right, you were following Qian Yi back then, correct?

Ji Xiaoyu: Is how that human scum died that important to you?

MC: It’s like this, Miss Ji. Qian Yi just might be linked to another case that we’re investigating.

MC: So we wanted to ask you whether you noticed if Qian Yi was acting unusually at any point.

Ji Xiaoyu: No need to explain. He’s dead anyways, and I don’t care why you’re investigating him.

Ji Xiaoyu: But you came for nothing.

Ji Xiaoyu: I did follow him for a few days, but didn’t notice anything unusual about him.

Ji Xiaoyu: Even if someone did kill him, they would have just been “enforcing justice for the heavens”.

 ⊳ Ji Xiaoqing

MC: Miss Ji, we… have a few questions about your sister Ji Xiaoqing…

Ji Xiaoyu: No need to be so hesitant. Go ahead and ask what you want.

Xia Yan: Miss Ji, according to what we know, your sister found out about everything only when Bedo Loan Company seized your real estate.

Xia Yan: After, she was always low-spirited, and then ended up getting into an accident due to drunkenness.

Xia Yan: I’d like to ask you about the details when your sister found out about the trap loans.

Xia Yan: Did she make any unusual actions?

Ji Xiaoyu: Unusual? Under those circumstances, what sort of actions wouldn’t be unusual?

MC: …Could you tell us about where she was different from before then?

Ji Xiaoyu: My sister had always been a very hardworking, motivated person, both in work and life.

Ji Xiaoyu: The year my parents passed just happened to be the one where she was testing for university.

Ji Xiaoyu: Because of limited money and to take care of me, sister gave up on the famous university she’d set her heart on and went to a typical university.

Ji Xiaoyu: Without the halo of a famous school, she worked harder than anyone when it came to studying and work.

Ji Xiaoyu: A few months before Bedo Loan Company found my sister, she had just job-hopped to a very famous company.

Ji Xiaoyu: When Bedo Loan Company had just come knocking, sister still pretended to be lively as she went to work…

Ji Xiaoyu stopped for a moment.

Ji Xiaoyu: But when the police were investigating my sister’s cause of death, they found the people from her company. Only then did I find out…

Ji Xiaoyu: Those scoundrels knew that sister was working at a big company, so they often went to harass her, to make her hand her earnings to them…

Ji Xiaoyu: Sister refused, so those people handed out flyers insulting us at the company…

Ji Xiaoyu: Sister’s mistakes increased in frequency at the company. After, she resigned.

Xia Yan: But you just said that she would pretend to be lively at work? So she went out to…?

Ji Xiaoyu: I don’t know why sister pretended to go to work in the days after.

Ji Xiaoyu: I’m guessing that she just didn’t want to see me at home and think of sorrowful things…

MC: Have you ever secretly followed your sister?

Ji Xiaoyu: … What right do I have to follow my sister?

Ji Xiaoyu: It makes perfect sense for her to want to avoid me, to have time and space to herself.

Ji Xiaoyu: I harmed her so much. Should I not even give her this bit of space?

MC: Miss Ji…

Ji Xiaoyu: But you’re also right. I should have followed my sister.

Ji Xiaoyu: If I watched over her more and worried over her, then at least, I could’ve brought her home after she got drunk, and she wouldn’t have gotten into an accident.

Ji Xiaoyu: But back then, I was only worried about my own sadness and shame. I never thought once for her.

 ⊳ Other people she’s interacted with

Xia Yan: Miss Ji, may I ask, has anyone found you after you told the police about the trap loan?

Ji Xiaoyu: After sister passed, I dropped out of school.

Ji Xiaoyu: After teachers at school found out, they came to see me a few times.

Ji Xiaoyu: The rest were a few reporters who came to interview me and take pictures for news.

Ji Xiaoyu: After attention on this matter subsided, no one else came.

 ⊳ Civil compensation

MC: Miss Ji, Bedo Loan Company will begin trial for a case soon.

MC: I read the case details – the real estate that your parents left behind were defrauded away by the company using a fake lawsuit.

MC: After the court comes out with a criminal case verdict on Bedo Loan company, I can help you file for civil litigation.

MC: This way, what your parents left, as well as your assets that were defrauded from you, can be taken back.

Ji Xiaoyu: No need. I don’t need compensation.

Ji Xiaoyu: It’s already pointless…

END QUESTIONING

 Ji Xiaoyu: Are there no other questions?

Ji Xiaoyu finished answering all of Xia Yan’s and my questions.

I originally thought that asking these would poke at her emotional wounds, but the whole time, her voice was expressionless, unusually indifferent.

Xia Yan and I locked eyes for a moment, seeing the same confusion and worry in each other’s eyes.

Xia Yan observed the items in the room again, looking at those two cardboard boxes near the door.

Xia Yan: The things in these boxes are…?

Though we could guess what was in it, Xia Yan still acted with caution, avoiding saying anything along the lines of “things left by the dead”.

Ji Xiaoyu: They’re my sister’s things.

Xia Yan: Can we take a look?

Ji Xiaoyu nodded slightly, then opened the cardboard box.

We first saw a journal with Ji Xiaoqing’s name on the cover.

Xia Yan flipped through the diary, giving it a few flip-throughs. The handwriting was beautiful and organized, and the contents focused on work and the comfortable times spent with her little sister.

Xia Yan: Your sister had a habit of writing in a diary, yet she didn’t write anything after finding out about the trap loan?

Ji Xiaoyu: She did. Several times, I saw her writing things in a black leather notebook.

Ji Xiaoyu: I don’t know what she wrote in there. Every time she saw me come over, she would immediately hide the notebook away.

Ji Xiaoyu: She probably wrote a lot about hating me…

Ji Xiaoyu: She clearly should’ve blown up at me, beat me, cursed me, and thrown me away so she could live in another city… but she still put on a strong face in front of me, every day.

Ji Xiaoyu: She also needed to vent, so I didn’t sneak any peeks.

MC: (Miss Ji…)

Xia Yan: Is that black leather notebook still around?

Ji Xiaoyu: I couldn’t find it. Maybe she tossed it away after she finished writing in it, or maybe it dropped somewhere on the day of the accident.

Just when Xia Yan and I were planning to look at some of Ji Xiaoqing’s other items, Ji Xiaoyu brought up a suggestion.

Ji Xiaoyu: You can take these boxes away and take your time going through them.

MC: Can we? These things…

Ji Xiaoyu: I’ll be preparing to bury my sister tomorrow, so I’m very busy. I need to rest right now, and I can’t wait for you.

Xia Yan: I understand – we’ll take these away for now, then. Don’t worry, we’ll examine them carefully and won’t break them.

Ji Xiaoyu: …

Ji Xiaoyu: I’d like to let you know that after my sister’s accident, the police also examined them. But they didn’t notice anything.

After hearing Ji Xiaoyu’s words, Xia Yan and I picked up the boxes with Ji Xiaoqing’s items and prepared to leave.

Ji Xiaoyu: Wait.

MC: Miss Ji, is there anything else you need?

Ji Xiaoyu: Why… why are you treating me like this!

Right when we were about to leave, Ji Xiaoyu suddenly became agitated.

MC: I’m so sorry, Miss Ji. If we have offended you in any way—

Ji Xiaoyu: Why aren’t you condemning me!

Ji Xiaoyu: It’s because I got too greedy and wanted to buy something expensive that I borrowed the money! It’s all because I wasn’t cautious enough that I ended up in the trap loan!

Ji Xiaoyu: It’s because I was a coward who was too scared to tell my sister or call the police that I kept sinking deeper!

Ji Xiaoyu: It’s all because of me… that my parents’ house ended up being defrauded away and that my sister died…

Ji Xiaoyu: You asked me so much, but why didn’t you scold me…

Ji Xiaoyu: Why… did you speak to me so sympathetically… when I committed so many unforgivable mistakes…

MC: …

Xia Yan: …

For a moment, I wasn’t quite sure of how to respond.

Xia Yan: Miss Ji, though this issue started because of you, you were not the one to cause all the misfortune.

Ji Xiaoyu: Have you not heard of the phrase, “flies don’t bite eggs without cracks”? Those who are pitiful must have a hateful side…

Xia Yan: But those who did evil are ultimately those “flies”.

Xia Yan: Whether pitiful or hateful, I have never thought that the focal point of a case should be whether the victim is perfect.

Xia Yan: You’ve already condemned yourself enough.

Ji Xiaoyu: …

Xia Yan: Even if you’ve already bought your sister’s resting place, don’t rush to do anything foolish.

Xia Yan: At least wait for our investigation to end.

Ji Xiaoyu: W-what do you mean?

Xia Yan: I feel like we might be able to find your sister’s black leather notebook.

Xia Yan: No matter how much you just pretended to not care, you must actually want to know what your sister was thinking and doing during that period of time.

Ji Xiaoyu was silent as tears rolled nonstop down her face.

Ji Xiaoyu: If you really find any clue that my sister left behind…

Ji Xiaoyu: No matter what it is… no matter how angrily she cursed… please tell it all to me.

Xia Yan: We will.

[deborahdeshoftim5779]

BBC Merlin 4x05: His Father’s Son

Here's a round-up of my main observations from BBC Merlin's "His Father's Son" (4x05).

1- MERLIN AS A KNIGHT 

I have to admit that Merlin as a sorcerer and trusted adviser appeals to me the most, but I did write a lengthy post analysing how Arthur had turned Merlin into an excellent fighter. This refutes claims that Merlin gave more to Arthur than he received in return. 

At the beginning of 4x05, we see Merlin selected to play a new role: that of knight. How did this come about? Arthur Pendragon is best known for his skills as a warrior, but he deserves more credit for his military tactics. These destroy the popular yet false idea that he is unintelligent. More on the latter in a forthcoming post.  

One of Arthur’s favourite tactics is using decoys. Previous examples of him using decoys include: The Castle of Fyrien (3x07), when Arthur used Merlin as a decoy to entrap Cenred’s soldiers; Aithusa (4x04), when Arthur used himself as a decoy to get Sir Percival to safety; Arthur’s Bane Part 2 (5x02), when Arthur uses Merlin as a decoy to enrage the slave traders before they escape-- by far my favourite example. 

All things considered, I don’t think it takes long for Arthur to choose Merlin. Furthermore, this decision may have taken place before they reached their selected location, as Agravaine later mentions a previous attack by Caerleon on the border. This choice demonstrates that Arthur has higher confidence in Merlin's abilities than he does of in his knights-- else he would have chosen them. We must conclude that Merlin is Arthur's best fighter, though at first glance, we wonder why an unarmed man follows trained knights into battle. 

Merlin is sharp, fast, has high stamina, and is incredibly resourceful. Most of all, however, he is incredibly brave. In fact, when rewatching 1x02, I was surprised to see Arthur acknowledge that Merlin was "braver than you look." This despite Arthur’s frustration that Merlin did not try hard enough during practice ("Come on, Merlin: I've got a tournament to win!"). 

What’s more, in that same episode, Merlin complains about his first day, but later on, we see his fascination wth the ongoing tournament. Then he admitted to Gaius that working for Arthur (in the context of said tournament) "isn't totally horrible all the time." It took one day for him to change his opinion! 

Sure, Merlin would continue to treat the fighting as pointless violence, and Arthur as having nothing more in his head than a desire to knock "the seven bells" out of other people (3x04). However, even in 1x02, when he applauds Arthur's fighting, his actions tell a different story. We associate this habit of liking something whilst pretending otherwise to Arthur, yet Merlin has it as well. 

As I have said before, Merlin and Arthur have profound differences, yet are profoundly alike. 

2- MERLIN AS A SERVANT 

It comes as no surprise that Merlin would return to serving after the beginning of 4x05. However, what that change represents sets the tone for this entire episode: Arthur dismissing Merlin's counsel repeatedly in favour of listening to his uncle. 

When Arthur says, "so please, stick to what you do know," you have to wonder whether Merlin remembered being entrusted with the role of knight. Now, Arthur puts him back in his place. 

Here's another example: "My conscience is clean, which is more than I can say for my room, so just... do your job, will you?" Yet just yesterday, that job involved Merlin risking his life against enemy forces by dressing as a knight. 

By the way, you can tell that Arthur doesn’t believe his own excuses, because he keeps using the passive voice to justify killing Caerleon: “...a show of strength was necessary… an example had to be made… My conscience is clean…” 

Merlin’s face after Arthur claims he doesn’t need anyone is self-explanatory. 

3- NEW THOUGHTS ON ANNIS

Is Queen Annis a good person? Actually, no. 

First of all, she knows and approves of her husband invading foreign kingdoms to plunder their wealth. Such invasions naturally cost not only the lives of Arthur's men, but her own, too. 

Furthermore, despite accepting Arthur's offer of a fight by single combat, she is prepared to cheat by enlisting Morgana's power. Perhaps if Arthur had died, too, she would have felt some remorse. Yet she still takes a monumental risk with Arthur's life in blatant violation of the knight's code. One has to wonder about her reaction had Camelot plotted against her armies in the same way. 

Then we have Annis calmly ordering Merlin’s execution without giving him a chance to explain himself. The lack of emotion in her voice suggests she has done this before. 

Speaking of cruelty, Annis’ champion seems to enjoy inflicting pain on his enemies, yet the Queen claims that he “served my husband well.” I dread to think what she means by “served”. 

I will also note that Queen Annis disdains magic, referring to Morgana as “witch”. As I have said before, Uther did not begin prejudice against magic; sorcerers were disliked and feared elsewhere, too, including by those who disliked Uther. Many sorcerers caused this prejudice by engaging in manipulative, violent, and wicked deeds. 

Examples include High Priestesses using Fomorrohs to enslave people’s minds (4x06); Cornelius Sigan using his power to change day into night and acquire vast wealth (2x01); sorcerers using special blades to murder people (3x04), and so on.

None of this takes away from Annis’ complexity, nor does it undermine her immense humility when she accepts defeat and withdraws from Camelot. After all, much of Annis' rage and desire for vengeance stems from intense grief over Caerleon's death, so we can assume her marriage was a happy one. 

Forgiving the man who destroyed her domestic happiness (as well as leaving her people without a king) shows tremendous nobility on Annis’ part. I think Arthur sees that, for he is always humble and respectful before her. 

4- LONG LIVE THE KING 

Few people respect Arthur more than Merlin. So when he doesn’t join in with cries of “Long live the king!”, you know something is wrong. 

5- CONTROL YOUR FEAR 

Episode 4x03 has a hilarious scene where a drunk Arthur claims he isn’t even a little bit scared, because, “I’m a warrior. You learn to control your fear.” Then Arthur walks smack bang into a pillar. Never fails to make me laugh. Minus the drunkenness, Arthur was telling the truth about controlling his fear.

You can see this at least twice in this episode: first, when he sees how many men Annis has brought against Camelot, and secondly, when he sees the size of Annis’ giant. In both cases, Arthur harnesses his fear into determination, which is another sign of a great warrior. 

Next up, we have a fascinating scene where Arthur watches his men joking by the fire. It's a great way of showing Arthur’s care for these men, as well as his guilt that impending war will end their lives. In a sense, Arthur has to control his fear yet again. 

6- TRUST IN MERLIN 

After the above scene, Gwaine asks Merlin if Arthur is all right, and the fact that Merlin can describe Arthur's feelings without even questioning the King once again shows the unique nature of their friendship. Merlin sees Arthur's expression, and he just knows. And Gwaine knows that, hence why he does not question the King himself. 

Listen to the silence after Merlin's response. Nobody questions Merlin's judgement: they just reflect. Given the way Arthur has repeatedly dismissed Merlin's advance in favour of his uncle, I think he could have learned something from his own knights. 

I wonder whether the knights would ask Merlin something about Arthur in this way, whenever the king was absent. In ancient kingdoms, kings had advisers, and in order to earn the monarch's favour, you spoke to the latter first. Did Merlin ever play that role for the knights?

7- MERLIN’S IDIOCY 

Now, I have a problem with Merlin telling Arthur that 1)- he would have taken any other option but to face war with Annis, and 2)- his decision to kill Caerleon “was made in the best interests of Camelot.” 

Sorry, but it wasn’t. Merlin knows that. I understand that he has to rally Arthur’s spirits so that they can win against Annis, but I am glad that Arthur knows full well he has done wrong. Both Merlin and many fans do not give Arthur enough credit for recognising his own errors. 

However, even these foolishly optimistic statements pale in comparison to Merlin's reckless and self-righteous interference when Arthur negotiates with Queen Annis. I burst out laughing when he trips and falls headlong into the tent, a metaphor for his impetuousness.  

Merlin eavesdrops outside Annis’ tent, gets caught (so he didn't conceal himself), and then has the audacity to say, “Sorry about this!” to Arthur! Not only that, he got angry over being called a “simple-minded fool”, when he couldn’t even walk in a straight line to follow the king, got himself caught and almost killed by enemy soldiers, and made Arthur look as though he were double-crossing Annis! 

I completely agree with Arthur’s anger: “Oh, I was being kind, believe me: you almost got me killed in there!” Correct. Merlin simply could not trust that Arthur knew what he was doing, and decided to interfere. Instead of apologising for getting Arthur into trouble, Merlin remains on the defensive, claiming without evidence that Arthur was “doing a pretty good job of that yourself!” 

This is untrue. Arthur surrendered himself to Annis’ men. The most injury he received was a slap. He asked a favour. That isn’t risking your life. In fact, Arthur was trying to save lives, and if Merlin had been listening properly (or just stayed in bed), he would have seen that. Only after Merlin’s sudden entrance did Arthur face serious danger from Annis. 

Now, Merlin’s explanation for this is, “I’m your friend! I was looking out for you.” I don’t doubt it. But once again, Arthur is right: “I appreciate that in your very confused way, you’re only trying to help, but please: don’t do it again.”

Condescending? Of course. But this time it was Merlin who provoked him into this anger. 

8- MORGANA 

Despite all her power, Morgana still has to defer to non-magical kings and queens. After all, she requires their military assistance to take over Camelot. 

You can also see how Queen Annis detects Morgana’s hatred, greed, self-righteousness, hypocrisy, and bloodlust. In one glance, Queen Annis begins questioning the wisdom of working with a sorceress she does not trust, not least on account of Morgana being a sorceress. 

In fact, Arthur’s prowess as a warrior impresses her more: “You have as much to lose as I if Arthur wins…” Fascinating scene. 

9- THANK YOU, OLD FRIEND 

It’s ironic that arguably the best scene in 4x05 begins by showcasing Arthur’s cynicism. No guesses why Arthur did not tell Merlin about breaking off his relationship with Gwen earlier. That speaks volumes. If he had told Merlin, I think they would have had an argument similar to that of 4x11. 

Only when Arthur realises that he may die does he ask Merlin to pass his ring onto Gwen with an apology. You can see the guilt etched onto his face as he refuses to make eye contact. Interestingly, Merlin does not ask any further questions. 

Arthur’s entrusting Merlin to look after Gwen in the event of his death says a lot. For example, that ring is technically royal property, yet Arthur gives it to a servant for safe-keeping, rather than his next-of-kin, Agravaine. Despite claiming to need his uncle’s advice, Arthur will not trust Agravaine with such duties. Has Arthur made a medieval will or testament? Obviously, I have no idea, however, this episode already shows Arthur’s reliance on Merlin to deal with family matters. 

Another interesting aspect to this scene is Merlin’s silence after Arthur makes an indisputable point. This dispels any idea that Merlin’s advice was always correct. On several occasions, Merlin had to defer to Arthur’s judgement, because he saw the truth and wisdom behind it. “I don’t know what will happen. But for the first time since I became king, I know in my heart I’ve made the right decision.”

Got to love Arthur’s half-amused, “You’re not about to start crying on me, are you?” He expects Merlin to be either in good spirits or confident, because that is how he, too, remains confident. Arthur is an optimist, yet Merlin becomes a pessimist, so the king must pull Merlin together with light and yet serious teasing. 

Needless to say, Arthur calling Merlin “old friend” implies that they have been friends for a long time. So why do some fans still think that Arthur had trouble admitting that Merlin was his friend? Also, the word “old” in this context can imply reliability, constancy. Arthur chose that word to describe Merlin’s value, as well as the length of their friendship. 

The great thing about Arthur is that while he makes some serious errors, when he does repent, he does so well. Not only does Arthur graciously thank Merlin for his concern, but he makes it clear to Agravaine that he relies on Merlin’s judgement prior to entering battle. This supports my earlier statement that Merlin is Arthur’s best fighter, as well as right-hand man; Arthur does not leave for the fight until Merlin has confirmed his readiness. 

On top of this, Arthur later admits that he might be a cabbage head. “I should have listened to you, Merlin. Just this once, I think you were right-- even if you are the worst servant in the five kingdoms!” 

By implication, Agravaine is wrong. Arthur won’t say that, of course, but we saw Merlin’s sound advice competing with Agravaine’s lies for this entire episode. We can only conclude that regardless of what he says, Arthur trusts Merlin more than members of his own family. 

And this is a theme which will continue and grow for the remainder of Season 4. 

FURTHER POINTS:

Merlin’s fighting skills

Paradoxes of Arthur and Merlin’s friendship

[comfy-whumpee]

Whumping Safely 101

Many people in this community have mental health problems, face various types of discrimination, and have complicated relationships with some parts or types of whump. In particular, I aim this at people who care about the experience of survivors and others with triggers – partially because I am an abuse survivor who often flirts with triggering content as part of my love of whump.

Keeping your blog safe is difficult, takes effort, and is never a perfect process. But as the community grows and grows, it’s really important that we hold ourselves to a high standard. I would argue that this is a responsibility of all content creators, but especially those of us in the messy playground of whump.

I’ve got three sections in here: content warnings, writing with care, and community interaction. I’ve tried to make it navigable. It’s about 1.8k words. Shorter than a lot of drabbles! I welcome good-faith criticism on this topic and further questions on my own views.

Content Warnings

The biggest responsibility, in my opinion, is empowering your reader to make their own decision on whether they want to expose themselves to your writing. This also happens to be by far the easiest way to help people whump safely.

What to warn

This is a big and ever-changing topic. Some things you should warn for as a rule of thumb are anything NSFW, pet whump and box boy whump, drugs and alcohol, medical and hospital content, graphic gore, intimate partner violence, and animal harm. It can be tricky to draw the line of what counts – what needs a warning? If you’re in doubt, just warn it anyway. It doesn’t hurt.

If someone requests a trigger be warned for, even if it’s something that feels obscure or tame, show compassion and agree to the request. This is someone who cares enough about being able to read your writing that they wrote in! They want to be able to read it and enjoy it. You’re being complimented.

Otherwise, look at what other blogs tag for. You’ll see some variation in styles and levels of detail, but it’s a good way to gauge what people think is warn-worthy, when we’re often writing stuff that would already be R-rated in mainstream media.

Read Mores

The easiest way to make sure people don’t see your triggering content is to use a cut. Tumblr is not a very functional website and likes to delete cuts, but a cursory check of your posted content will usually tell you whether it’s worked. With asks, cuts are very spotty, so don’t be afraid to post an ask response separately with a screengrab of the original question. People often then respond to the ask itself with a link to the post, especially if it’s a whole drabble. Tumblr is weird and bad so just do your best.

Content notices

I.e., a quick summary before the drabble, usually in bold, to state what will be coming. I like to distinguish between using content notes (CN) and trigger warnings (TW) to indicate severity. Others might use the old phrase ‘dead dove do not eat’ to indicate this is a heavy piece, and often you will see qualifiers like ‘intense’, ‘mild’, ‘mention’, ‘referenced’ (i.e. it is discussed but not actively happening), and ‘implied’ (as the opposite of ‘explicit’). I’ve also seen a couple of people use ‘vibes’, which is a really nice way of demonstrating that it’s there, but not the focus. A quick paragraph like this, or just a line, lets people make a quick risk assessment on their reading.

This is also important if you’re sending in asks or requests to people. If you want to ask about something triggering, send an inquiry first about whether the blog is okay to hear it.

Tagging

Tagging is a chore, but it’s your primary way of warning people about your content. The main benefit of tagging is that you can be as detailed as you want, because can be tagging for content in general, not just triggers.

In a best case scenario, you’d tag the kind of whump you’re doing, tag triggers, tag characters, and even your ‘verses, because tagging is your index for your blog. If you tag reliably, you help your future self and your readers find stuff, and you also make your blog really dang safe. People who have unusual triggers can blacklist tags, and will pick up on your content tags to help them.

Don’t just tag your own writing. Tag your reblogs, tag your prompts, tag your asks. Yes, edit your asks to add the tags. Tag your images and gifs. Tag your images as images and your gifs as gifs.

If you aren’t up for detailed tagging for whatever reason, just tag for triggering content, and add stuff to that list if you’re asked to. My usual technique is to make a mental note of tags while I’m formatting and editing before posting.

Be aware that your first five tags will be used in search results. If you’re using tags that are associated with kink too, such as ‘shibari’, you might want to rethink your tag order if you don’t want interaction from those blogs. Also think about what tags might come up in non-whump contexts, such as ‘collar’ or ‘PTSD’. Some tactics for getting around this I’ve seen are adding ‘whump’ after the content or writing the tags in past tense (i.e., ‘collared’).

It is also a good idea to watch out for when you might be reblogging something whumpy that is intended as kink / porn / fetish, especially in images. Tagging these as spicy / nsfw / kink is a sensible move.

Writing with Care

Okay, now for the harder stuff.

I mean here to lay out some guidelines for how to write in a way that helps your reader build good faith. This is a much more nuanced topic, and it’s different for everyone. There will always be differing opinions on what should and shouldn’t be written about, what a good depiction of a sensitive topic is, and how to discuss that topic. I tried to strip this back into absolute basics that I hope we can all agree on.

Maybe your whump involves abuse. Maybe it’s gaslighting. Maybe it’s severe mental health problems, or addiction, or slavery, or you write about or analogise real-world issues. Whump deals with the dark stuff, and that’s a big part of its appeal. But don’t ever forget you’re writing the dark stuff.

(Try to) Know what you’re doing

Some of us play fast and loose with plots, medical accuracy, worldbuilding, and other things that get in the way of the pain we crave. This is all well and good, but when we start using whump that speaks true to people’s lived experiences, we shouldn’t be careless with it. I’m particularly talking about things that get represented poorly in mainstream media, such as abusive relationships, issues around marginalisation, mental illness and disability.

Be critical of media that you’ve consumed. Think about how its depicted things that you want to depict in turn. Look for opinions on fictional representations of those issues. Be aware that you might be more ignorant of things than you realise.

Look at how others are writing these issues, particularly if they’re writing from a perspective different to yours. If you haven’t personally experienced what you’re writing about, e.g., if you don’t have PTSD and you want to depict a character who does, seek out stuff written from or with experience. Listen to the experts.

If you’re looking for stuff about representation specifically, I recommend this collection of posts about ‘Braving Diversity’ cultivated by Writing With Colour, who are in themselves a fantastic resource for this topic, and have recommendations for other blogs that deal with intersecting issues.

Listen to others

Missteps are inevitable. Nobody is perfect. If constructive criticism is offered, that’s also a compliment to your writing. Someone read your work and thought about it, and thought you’d care about improving it. They’re offering themselves as a resource for helping you see your work in a new light.

Criticism is hard and sometimes hurtful, but even if we don’t think it’s accurate, there’s often a grain of truth in it. If someone tells you that your writing is harmful, think about why they’ve said that, not whether or not they’re correct. This is an opinion! Opinions are subjective! But what drove someone to send that in?

You don’t have to respond to all your criticism and definitely don’t respond straight away. Being respectful to those who are trying to help you means taking the time to consider it properly. Sometimes, they don’t need a response. Others, you might want to learn more about what they think before deciding. You might have already discussed the topic, in which case, you might just want to reblog your previous posts.

If it’s sent in bad faith or is outright hateful, you’re well within your rights to just delete it and move on. You might get the same criticism over and over again, and that’s exhausting, and you don’t have to retrace your steps for everyone.

But if it’s new, even if it puts your hackles up, you can always stop and wonder why someone felt that strongly about your work.

Take a step back

One of my better-known characters is a pet whumper who conditioned his victim to adore and depend on him. It’s not always easy to represent how deeply messed up that is within the text – though I think that’s part of the challenge – but in meta-commentary, I am always describing him as a creeptastic bastard lacking compassion and self-reflection. I hope to always give the reader the confidence that I know just how wrong it is.

This is a really simple thing you can do just to give readers good faith in you. Show that you know what you’re writing is dark and messed up. Show your understanding for the issues you’re handling and that they’re complicated. It might seem self-evident, but when you’re writing the really dark stuff, or unhealthy relationships, or institutionalised whump, you can inadvertently create the impression that you just think it’s fun. The fact that it’s fiction does not automatically absolve you. Show that you care about doing it right.

Community Interaction

I’m going to keep this one short and sweet because I will almost entirely be preaching to the choir here.

Be polite to others. Imagine saying what you’re saying to their face.

Don’t send anon hate. Just don’t. If you can send criticism off anon, do so.

Nobody is obligated to interact with you.

Nobody is obligated to monitor their own reader base.

If someone says do not interact, do not interact.

If someone says do not interact, why they’ve said that is none of your business.

You don’t need to spread the word about someone’s bad politics.

Ask yourself if your input is needed, or if what you’ve said has already been said.

You don’t have to take a side.

Take care of yourself. Take breaks. Remind yourself that whump is a small part of the world.

That’s all from me, folks. Stay safe.

[ri-ahhh]

desperate

Grayson makes his girlfriend all kinds of desperate by posting those photoshoot pictures for everyone to see

warnings: long af, about 4.6K, but mostly sexy times

***

MJ Macias is in a hurry as she huffs and struggles across the threshold of the front door and into the Dolan boys’ house. She practically lives there, so she had taken it upon herself to do the weekly food shop for all three of them. Her arms are laden with reusable shopping bags that are filled to the brim with groceries from Trader Joe’s, so she bumps the door closed with her hip behind her before waddling as fast as she can into the kitchen.

“Hey,” she greets Ethan hurriedly, heaving up and plopping down the heavy bags onto the granite countertops.

Ethan stands in the middle of the kitchen, minding his own business, eating a banana and scrolling on his phone. He nods his head in return, his mouth otherwise occupied by a mouthful of fruit.

MJ whips off her sunglasses and tosses them with her keys onto the island catch-all plate, simultaneously toeing off her AF1’s. “Can you do me a solid and put those away, please?” she asks. Her body feels hot despite the fact that they keep their AC on typical-boy freezing temperatures. “I gotta, um…take a poop. Yeah.”

Ethan eyes her suspiciously and chomps off another bite of his banana as he does so. Her flushed face, her twitchy hands, her slightly breathless voice, are all telling a different story. Unfortunately, he’s around his brother and his girlfriend often enough to know their horny tells, which are usually his cues to get the hell away from them; those two really didn’t give a fuck who was around when they got desperate enough.

“No you don’t. You saw his douchey Instagram post, didn’t you?”

MJ at least has the decency to blush a little as she rolls her eyes and digs through the black hole of her purse in search of her phone. There was no point in denying it if he was gonna call her out like that. “Fine! Would you rather me tell you I’m off to suck your brother’s dick? Because I am.”

Ethan retches a little. Drama queen. He looks down at the half-eaten banana in his hand, grimaces, and sits it on the countertop he had just been leaning against. “Ugh. So many terrible, terrible images I can’t stop now.”

Phone in hand, MJ is already halfway to the hallway when she stops and turns to give him a deadpan look. “You’ve caught us full-on fucking, E. Just think, you’ve already seen worse.”

She smirks when he groans loudly, his head tipping back exasperatedly. If there’s one thing that provides her with endless entertainment, it’s pushing her boyfriend’s brother’s sometimes oversensitive buttons. “Okay, okay, MJ, leave now please, before you inflict more mental scarring on my poor virgin brain. I’ll just… pretend like I don’t have any idea what’s going on in there.”

MJ scoffs. ‘Virgin brain’ is the biggest lie she’s ever heard pass his lips.

It also jogs a helpful memory in her head from two nights ago.

It started when she had woken up in the middle of the night completely parched, and padded herself sleepily into the kitchen at 3 AM for some water. The muffled yet tell-tale noises breaking the silence blanketing the rest of the house should have been her warning, but in her defense, she had still been half asleep. Cut to zombie-esque MJ suddenly turning wide awake when she rounded the corner to find Ethan on his knees on the kitchen floor, his head buried between his girlfriend Evie’s legs where she sat perched on the counter. A nearly inaudible squeak of surprise was the only thing she had left behind before booking it back to bed, leaving the couple none the wiser in the dim light of the kitchen.

She had still been thirsty, she remembers grumpily, and was left with her own mental images burned in her mind, which she had spent a good portion of the rest of that night trying to put out.

It’s only fair, as payback, that he doesn't find out that she and Gray have been in the exact same position several times before.

Alright, so it’s a little hypocritical for her to continue to dig at him, but she does so anyways without any guilt whatsoever. “Hm. Well, at least we’re behind closed doors. You should probably remember: the kitchen is for cooking, not for eating.”

She gives him a grin and a pointed look at the counter behind him, leaving Ethan looking momentarily confused before understanding dawns on him. “MJ, shut up. Serious— wait!”

“Thanks for putting the food away, E!” she calls over her shoulder as she continues across the living room, laughing heartily at the furious blush on his face.

MJ is still chuckling when her phone buzzes in her hand. Her heart lifts when she sees it’s from Grayson, asking if that was her he could hear Ethan yelling at. She swipes the text notification away and bites her lip as she stares at the new photo that is her background wallpaper. Thousands of other girls are probably looking at that picture of him laying in bed the same way she is now. What they don’t have, she thought smugly, is the real thing waiting for them on the other side of a door.

That’s exactly what she finds when she enters their room: him sprawled out on that very bed, looking superbly comfy in his athletic shorts and soft t-shirt, barefoot, his skin a fresh golden tone from doing laps in the pool earlier today. His eyes dart away from his phone, which he tosses to the other side of the bed when he hears her come in.

“I thought that was you,” he says with a bright smile, reaching his arms out to her. “C’mere. I haven't seen you all day.”

Not exactly true, as they had crossed paths a few times in passing in the morning, but the effect had been there since they were both separately busy. She doesn’t correct him and ignores his grabby hands, too, despite how much her body longs to dive into them.

She shuts the door quietly behind her, her green eyes appreciating the real-life version of the man in those photos. Those photos that she had gotten a tiny preview of a few days ago when Grayson had showed her the email, but were nothing compared to the final product. When she saw his Instagram post right when she got in her car to come home, her mind, heart, and pussy were all instantly fighting with each other to process the coinciding beauty and sexiness of the images blessing her eyes.

Now, she wants to take the time to appreciate every aspect of him. To let her brain wrap around how he can be so beautiful inside and out; to let her heart simply feel how much she loves him; and to let her body be a tool for his enjoyment.

Her lust must be evident on her face as she stares at him, unmoving from her spot by the door, because Grayson’s bright smile turns knowing. He loves the effect it has on her when he shows off what’s really hers to his millions of followers. It’s mostly why he does it. Admittedly, he’s self-aware enough to realize he thrives off the praise and attention from his fans, but he’s also selfish enough to do it simply for the rise it gets out of his beautiful girlfriend; he knows it could only end in his favor.

He also knows MJ like the back of his hand by now, and he hasn’t seen her this turned on without him even touching her since he made that post in Australia about saving the duckling. The marathon session he had been rewarded with after that was unmatched to this day.

Grayson has a feeling now might be the time.

MJ is finally brought back to her senses a little bit when he shifts up the pillows to get more comfy and to allow himself a better view of what he knows is about to go down. She takes off her black baseball cap and tosses it to the corner of the bedroom, eyes never leaving his as she shakes out her wavy waist-length hair. Her delicate fingers tug at the drawstring of her grey sweats — the very ones of his that he’s wearing in the pictures, actually — and steps out of them when they fall to the floor. Finally, her casual black body suit is all that adorns her body, and she pulls the spaghetti straps down her arms so it can slide to the ground as well.

Grayson licks his lips and let’s his hazel eyes absorb the delectable curves of her body as she stalks over to him like a panther on the hunt for her prey. She climbs onto the bed with their eyes still locked, small smiles tugging at both of their lips, until she’s straddling his fully-clothed waist.

“Who gave you permission to be that sexy online?” she asks quietly, combing his hair back with the manicured fingers of one hand and using the other to steady herself on his shoulder as she sits back and wastes no time rocking her hips over his lap. “Making all those girls want you. Jealous they can’t have you.”

Grayson bites his plump lower lip and brushes her long tresses over her shoulders so her tits are fully exposed for him. He takes a few moments to admire his favorite part of her body while his large hands find her hips to help her grind against him. He can feel her wetness already seeping through his shorts, and it makes him dizzy that she’s this turned on by him without him having to do anything at all.

“I thought you liked it when I make other girls jealous,” he retorts, meeting her eyes once again with a grin. MJ gasps when his hands sweep upwards to cup her sensitive breasts, where he rubs his thumbs a couple of times teasingly over her nipples before dropping one down to swipe through her slit. He moans when he brings the digit to his mouth, sucking the coating of her sweet, earthy arousal off his skin. “Mm. In fact, I know you like it.”

He’s so perfectly feeding into this sexy-and-I-know-it douchebag fetish of hers and it’s making her head swim dangerously. MJ moans herself and pushes his hand away from his mouth so she can kiss him deeply, sloppily, her tongue finding his in his mouth and sliding alongside it sensually.

“I fucking love it,” she whispers hotly when they pull back for air, her chest heaving with both desire and the attempts to catch her breath.

She uses the downtime to take hold of the hem of his shirt and tug upwards. Grayson lifts his arms in assistance until the garment is over his head and thrown across the room. MJ’s fingers are instantly drawn to the newest addition of body art inked into him: the black-and-grey photorealistic peach on his ribs.

For all intents and purposes, it’s her name etched into his skin forever. Usually when she sees it, it just makes her heart extra soft for him. Now, it only drives her lust for him through the roof, because if only those millions of people knew what that peach really meant.

MJ dives back in to kiss him again, both of their hands grabbing at every bit of exposed skin they can reach as their lips and teeth and tongues clash roughly, perfectly. They make out like that for a few more minutes until MJ’s finally able to comprehend that he’s fully hard beneath her. She could very easily keep grinding on him until she came, but she decides to focus on him. Really, it’s almost selfish how desperate she is to make him cum first.

Her breaths are loud and heavy as she bites her lip and scoots down his body with a grip in the waistband of his shorts, dragging them down with her. Grayson lifts his ass off the bed and hisses when his dick springs free, hot and hard and throbbing for her. MJ’s mouth waters at the sight, and she sits back on her knees with her eyes glued to him as she throws her hair up in a messy bun. With it sufficiently pulled out of her face, she settles on her belly in-between his legs, getting comfy; she’d be there for a while if she has it her way.

Her legs naturally bend at the knees and cross at the ankles, looking innocent and seductive as she takes him in one petite hand, the other scratching her long nails along the skin of his abdomen, hip, and upper thigh. She makes sure his eyes are on hers when she turns her head and licks up the whole underside of him like an ice cream cone. Grayson sighs and interlaces his fingers behind his head to watch her work, just like the spoiled prince she’s treating him as.

“You’re so hot,” she murmurs after giving the head a lascivious kiss. Grayson moans softly and throws his head back, swallowing hard when she follows it with a gentle suckle of the whole tip — just teasing little snippets of what’s to come. “Makes me crazy how sexy you are, Bear.”

With that, she dips her head lower and takes more of him in her warm, wet mouth a few times, then pulls back and drizzles some of the saliva pooling in her cheeks onto his dick. She repeats this again. And again. And again, her eyes shining mischievously as she watches him get more and more worked up the longer she goes without giving him exactly what she knows he wants.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his hazel eyes glazed over as she spreads the considerable amount of slickness from her mouth all over his shaft. She’s got him as desperate as she set out to, which is only confirmed when he finally begs, “Suck it, baby, please.”

MJ grins against his skin and, with his dick sufficiently wet, gives in instantly. She dips her head and takes the first couple of inches into her mouth, then a few more on the next pass, until finally she has enough of him in her so that his tip is tickling the back of her throat. She hollows her cheeks and twists her hand on the way back up, continuing until she’s got a rhythm and pressure that has him moaning unashamedly amidst the filthy sounds created by her mouth on him.

“So fucking good,” he groans, gripping the base of her messy bun and holding her down so her spit and drool pools at the base of him, dripping down his balls. Tears start to stream from her eyes as MJ allows him to keep her there until she has to tap his hard stomach, trying to lift off of him to gasp for air.  

Grayson pulls up on her hair at once to let her, swiping at the tears on her freckled cheekbones for her as well. MJ giggles breathlessly and strokes one hand over him while the other cradles his sac. “Because you have the best dick, Gray. So big and thick and nice. I love your dick,” she moans and ducks down to suck one of his balls into her mouth, giving it a warm bath before the other gets the same treatment. “Mmm. Want it back in my mouth right now.”

“Yeah,” he growls, his eyes shutting momentarily when her lips wrap back around him. He doesn’t want to miss a second of her pretty face so close to his cock, though, so he opens them once again and demands, “Wanna fuck your mouth.”

God, yes. “Do it, baby, I’m ready,” she instructs with a moan. Her pussy throbs greedily when she takes him back all the way down, relaxing her throat and concentrating on breathing through her nose when he bends his knees and starts thrusting gently.

His hand returns to her hair for leverage and holds her head steady as he finds a tempo with his hips that she can handle. MJ fights her gag reflex and does her best to look up so she can watch his beautiful face with teary green eyes for as long as she can. Giving head has always been something she’s relatively enjoyed, but Grayson has taken her appreciation for it to a whole new level. Never before had she craved the feeling of her throat being stretched, the slight ache of her jaw, the way her eyes watered, like she does with him.

Grayson’s sounds are getting more frequent and needy, music to MJ’s ears solely for the fact that they feed her ego and drive her own arousal. She’s always loved that he wasn't afraid to be as loud as he usually is outside of the bedroom, inside it as well; whether he was working out or talking or getting his dick sucked, he had zero regard for his volume in respect of his twin just down the hall.

“Fuuuckk,” he moans, almost painfully so, and tugs roughly on her hair once again to pull her off of him as he sits up. He’s panting, a cute flush tinting his cheeks and neck and chest. She catches the sexy glint of one of his tooth jewels as he grits his teeth with a little snarl in attempts to hold himself together. “C’mere.”

MJ whines and follows his physical order, but not his verbal one. His cock is an absolute mess with her spit, a beautiful sight to see, and she rubs it all into his tight balls and his shaft with two hands. “Put it back in, Grayson, I want it in my throat,” she pleads, opening her mouth wide for him.

A deep, guttural noise passes his lips, his eyes blown out with desperation and desire. His visceral reaction to her defiance sends a gush of moisture to her already dripping pussy as he drags her up to him by her hair.

They’re nose to nose, breathing heavily, and MJ expects him to pull her by the back of the neck to kiss him, but he just reaches a big hand up to wipe the moisture from both her eyes and her mouth off of her flushed face.

“Ride me,” he growls, his fingers moving from the soft skin of her cheeks to the more delicate area of her throat. He squeezes gently, and she’s so turned on, that the simple hitch in her breath that results from it makes her eyes roll back and her clit pulse. “Ride me as good as you suck my dick, MJ.”

MJ whimpers and lunges forward to crash her lips against his, moving from the middle of his legs to straddle him with a knee on either side of his hips. Without breaking the heated seal of their mouths, she lifts up onto her shins and reaches behind her to find his cock and line him up with her center. If he wants a good ride, she’ll sure as hell give him one.

Grayson’s moan is synchronized with her own as she sinks down on him, so wet and ready for him it’s just one easy movement until she’s balls deep on him.

“God, this pussy,” he growls, grabbing a handful of her thick ass and following it with a sharp spank to her skin, causing her to yelp into the minimal space between them. He bites his lip and looks up at her darkly as she wraps her arms loosely around his neck, her nails digging into the sinews of his broad back. “Go, Peach. Fuck me.”

Those were usually her choice words, so something about hearing them in his deep, raspy voice said to her, sends her head reeling and her hips rocking of their own accord. She is fucking him; they both know everything she’s doing right now is for him. If she happens to cum in the meantime, it will simply be an added bonus this afternoon.

If she were taking herself into account, MJ would start by grinding on him, building that pressure in her core by stimulating her clit. But she wants to do everything she knows he likes, all for him. She looks at his face, his body, and sees those insane photos on Instagram. How many girls would do anything to be in her place?

A lot. Too many, really. The renewed thought both drives her crazy and makes her heady with a weird sense of momentary superiority.

MJ moans and starts rising up and down on him, bouncing on his lap so her tits are jiggling right in his face. Grayson grunts and watches intently until he takes them both in his hands, squeezing roughly. He releases one and wraps that arm around her waist, bringing her forward so he can suck her nipple of the breast he’s still holding into his warm mouth.

“Lay down,” she says breathlessly after a couple of minutes of letting him indulge, pushing gently on his chest. Grayson follows suit. He swallows hard when she drags her nails down the hard ridges of his abs before bracing herself there with her palms and making sweeping circles with her hips. As much as he loves a face-full of her tits, nothing beats the full view of her body when he's flat on his back like this. Her dark hair curtains the soft, blissful features of her face; her breasts shake enticingly; the respective dips of her waist and swells of her hips are more pronounced by the way she’s sitting astride him; her own lean muscles work hard as she moves gracefully, sensually, to give him as much pleasure as she can.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs lowly, overwhelmed by the sight of her on top of him, working just for him. Without him even realizing, his thumb instinctively finds her clit, his mind and his body hardwired to make sure she’s satisfied as well no matter what.

A new rush of heat floods her body at his touch, and the tip of his cock is hitting just right on that spot behind her belly. Her head tips back with a high-pitch gasp and she fights for a second between instinct to reach her own peak and the competitive, determined urge to get him to cum first.

It takes all her willpower to take the latter route and gather both of his hands in hers, interlacing their fingers and pinning them above his head. His biceps bulge obscenely, his shoulders and triceps equally pronounced, and MJ moans wantonly at the sight as she changes the motion of her hips. She uses the new leverage and goes back to moving up and down on him, a slight smirk gracing her lips when she watches his attention zero in on her tits swaying over him from the way she’s leaning above him.

Unfortunately (or, who is she kidding, fortunately) for her, Grayson also realizes the advantages of this new position. His knees raise behind her so his feet are flat on the mattress, and he grins when he starts thrusting full-force up into her. He would usually wrap his arms around her waist to hold her steady, but those abs are coming in clutch as he achieves the same effect with his hands captured above him.

He knows this is one of her favorite positions, when he jackhammers her like this, and sure enough her moans and whimpers shift in pitch and frequency as her body goes stiff. She can only take him like this, and any thoughts of other girls and jealousy and pride or any other emotion like them fly out of her mind as her body’s desires take over her brain’s thinking power.

“Fuckfuckfuck, Grayson!” she squeals, her eyes squeezing shut and breaking their mutual gaze as she cums and cums hard.

“Yes, baby, cum for Bear,” he grunts, snatching one of his hands from hers so he can grab her face by the cheeks and pull her down for a sloppy, desperate kiss.

It takes her almost a minute to come down enough for her to be coherent, and Grayson smiles smugly as he sits them up and trails his mouth to the spot behind her ear that never fails to make her shiver. “You love my dick, Peach? Hm? Who’s dick just made you cum that hard?”

MJ groans and grasps a handful of his dark hair when he bites into the junction of her neck and shoulder. “Yours,” she whispers. Her body is exhausted, but she starts moving over him again, tugging on his long, sweaty hair to pull him away from her skin so she can look him in the eye. If there’s anything that gets Grayson Dolan off, it’s eye contact. Eye contact, and dirty praises of his prowess. “Didn’t even need to touch my clit, it’s so good.”  

She clenches purposefully around him as she speeds up, and Grayson’s eyes roll back for a second. It’s MJ’s turn for her pride to swell, as the simple action puts him right at the edge. “Fuck yeah… ungh, MJ — gonna cum…”

She’s off him in an instant, back on her tummy as she strokes him off into her open mouth, her eyes big and green and sparkling as he whines with every spurt of his hot seed that gets released. The first couple of shots are powerful enough to miss her mouth entirely and land half on her face, which catches her by surprise, but she giggles as the rest find their place on her tongue.

“Holy shit,” he groans after a few moments, his chest heaving as he stares down at her with his white cum pooled on the surface of her tongue. It takes him an extra second to process the streaks on her face, and he smiles with a shake of his head. She grins back and swallows, swiping her finger across the bridge of her nose to collect the extra and sucks it into her mouth.

“Best nut I’ve ever tasted,” she says truthfully. Take his douchey captions as you will, but regular exercise and a vegan diet make the best cum. It’s science.

“Unreal,” he murmurs, plucking a Kleenex from the nightstand to clean the rest of her face, then reaches down to hook his hands under her arms and drag her up to lay next to him.

MJ smiles and nuzzles into his neck as she lets him pull her close to his chest. She reaches blindly behind her for the blanket to throw over their sweat-cooled bodies. “That’s my line. That’s what started this whole tryst in the first place. Because of how unreal you look in those photos.”

Grayson hums, and he kisses her temple. “You’re prettier. More beautiful. Absolutely stunning.”

MJ scoffs and blushes. She doesn’t think she’ll ever be used to him complimenting her like that, with such conviction. “I don’t think so, but okay.”

He shakes his head, his eyes closing as he starts to drift off. “You have boobs. You win by default. Nothing’s better than your boobs. Except your pretty face.”

She giggles and snuggles closer with a yawn. There’s a minute of comfortable silence, until she breaks it with her sex-rasped voice. “Oh, by the way, I caught your brother going down on Evie in the kitchen the other night. In case we need leverage in the future.”

Grayson grins, his eyes still shut as he nuzzles the top of her head. “Nice work, baby. But can we please take a nap? You wore me out.”

“Yeah, I did,” she says smugly to herself. She should probably get up to pee, but in her mind right now it’s worth the risk if she doesn't have to move. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Peach. Now go the fuck to sleep.”

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

How about a sequel to the Naida/MC? When Nadia invites MC on a heist with her, the Poppy is worried for MC so they test to see if Nadia really cares about MC by making it look like MC’s will be caught (but it’s one of them as a fake guard) to see if Nadia stays to help MC and she does. When MC realises it’s the Poppy she’s upset bc they didn’t trust her judgement and leaves with Nadia, but Nadia convinces her to talk with them bc while she’s angry about being tested they were looking out for MC

Written by @an-awkward-ghost

Flashpoint’s heists were different than the Poppy’s. Nadia, back when she thought she was infatuated with Vivienne, had spent days studying their methods. They truly had the best combination of abilities and talents someone could ask for, and Nikolai knew how to put everything to good use. Nothing was wasted, any chance of failure would be immediately squashed before it could so much as exist. And if something unexpected did happen during a heist, well, they knew how to improvise. It was annoying, yes, but something that Nadia could respect – they were the best for a reason, after all. Part of that was remaining untouchable.

And while Nadia was aware that safety should be top priority, there was a unique thrill in doing things more freely that she would never give away. Flashpoint preferred to go all in, figurative guns blazing, taking what they wanted while everyone watched, unable to do anything.

She loved committing their expressions to memory, all stunned fear and enraged surprise. It was much better than imagining their reactions to a calling card, in her opinion.

When she had invited MC to work with them on their next heist, she knew the Poppy wouldn’t approve of her methods. They were like one big, stubborn, overprotective family she had to win over – the most disapproving “in-laws” in the world.

Fine, that was fine. Nadia could have Flashpoint play it safe for one heist. She’d never let Karina come to any harm, and hell to anyone who believed otherwise – she’d show the Poppy she can be trusted.

Thing is… she didn’t quite think she’d have to prove it this way. She expected a talk, maybe a heated debate, but nothing this dramatic nor extreme. Weren’t the Poppy supposed to play it safe?

And everything had happened so fast.

Karina had been telling her about her recruitment, high on adrenaline, laughing freely and warmly like the wind in spring. The whole experience had been invigorating, even if the heist wasn’t as crazy as Flashpoint usually preferred.

“I wish it had been me who discovered you,” Nadia had told her, in one of those moments where she didn’t feel the need to be dominating, in control. Karina had softened at the admission, had looked at her as if she were an undiscovered treasure she was itching to commit to memory.

They walked together to the back exit of the mansion Flashpoint had infiltrated in. Nadia wasn’t concerned about the rest of her crew – they were probably already waiting for them, since Karina and her might have gotten a bit… distracted… during the heist.

Just as she was reminiscing, feeling proud delight bubble in her chest and a spark of delicious heat, the Poppy had sprung into action.

Or, well, a “guard” did.

He came out of the literal shadows, unexpected like rain in September.

Nadia had been walking ahead, already out of the mansion. If this had occurred before Nadia had become aware she had feelings for Karina, she might have snorted and continued on to safety, glad to have gotten rid of Vivienne’s little toy.

But that’s not what happens at all.

The first thing Nadia hears is Karina’s surprised yelp. All rational thought leaves her at that moment. Before she can even blink, she’s already turning around, heading inside again like a demon let loose, hand moving towards her knife.

It takes her a moment to understand the scene before her, but the moment she does she sees red. Karina is caught in the guard’s grasp, expression open in honest surprise. Nadia can detect a tinge of panic twisting alongside ever eternal frustration, and understands this situation has happened before, and Karina had been as powerless then as she was now. Everything shifting with volcanic rage in her expression, Karina stomps on the guard’s foot with vigor.

The guard curses and yelps and flinches and Nadia instantly sees her opening. She pounces, eyes zeroing in on the spot that would guarantee a kill. It was second nature at this point.

True, she had promised to change for Karina. To hold back. To search for other methods, for other solutions. Nadia had grumbled and accepted it, but the instinct was never gone, not really. It’s the first thing that came to mind when something went wrong.

It’s the first thing that she was doing now, falling back into old habits.

The guard blocks her, still holding to Karina. She moves with him, a harsh tug that sets his balance off. That’s everything Nadia needs. Her knife is light and sure in her grasp, hungry for vengeance. She won’t miss.

“Nadia, wait!”

Against her better judgement, her body freezes mid strike, automatically responding to Karina’s yell- no, to her order. Unable to do anything else, she fixes the guard with a fulminating glare, daring him to do anything.

Karina continues. “I know that voice. Leon?”

The guard remains tense, though now thoroughly non-threatening.

“Leon?” Nadia repeats, with a huff. She can see it now, in his wide shoulders and tall frame. The knife would have been ineffective against someone like him, a mere bee’s sting. She huffs, relaxing her posture, still somewhat wary. “Explain. You didn’t betray them, did you?”

“Us,” Karina corrects, eyes narrowing. “And he’d never…”

She trails off at the same time Leon lets go of her, moving to take off the mask covering his mouth. His expression is filled with silent, thunderous determination.

“You guys planned this, didn’t you?” Karina asks, quietly. “You wanted to see what Nadia would do if I was in danger.”

Leon doesn’t shy away from her, which Nadia has to give him credit for. Karina could be scary when she wanted to, eyes dark like the deep end of the sea, where you couldn’t do anything else but drown.

The Poppy was hellbent on believing she was only deceiving Karina, weren’t they? After all this time? All of this?

Indignation burns away all other feelings. She distracts herself playing with her knife, frowning.

“Do you really trust me so little?” Karina explodes. “Do you- do you think that I don’t have a brain to make decisions or something? I know Nadia is dangerous. I’m not blind. I’m not a poor judge of character. I just- what were you guys thinking? Doing this- this… this test! What the hell were you trying to do? Provoke the inevitable? Nadia wouldn’t have abandoned me!”

Karina turns around, hand grabbing Nadia’s and dragging her off without another word. Leon remains where he is, resignation clouding his face, but even from here his relief is evident.

“I can’t believe their nerve! God! What if you hadn’t stopped and ended up stabbing him?”

“We are talking about Leon here. He can tank a knife.”

“I mean, yeah, but this could have been worse! It could have drawn in real guards, and then what?”

Nadia shrugs, knowing silence is the only option. Karina needs to vent.

“And I can’t believe they don’t trust me. I’ve told them about our dates, you know, you’d think they’d see-” She cuts herself off, quickly switching topics without really ending them. “I just know Remy and Jett must have driven all the other guards away. If we run into them, I’ll- oh my god, the maid we saw on the third floor! That’s it, I’m yelling at Vivienne too. I’m yelling at all of them.”

Nadia squints, vaguely remembering the maid Karina is referring to. The Poppy had clearly taken measures to ensure Karina wouldn’t be in any real danger whatsoever. This little test of theirs…

She sighs.

“Angel-”

“And don’t get me started on Zoe, she probably-”

“Angel.”

“-was watching the whole time! The moment I see another camera, I am-”

“Karina?”

“-so flipping her off!”

“Angel. Darling.”

That seems to make the trick. Karina whips around to glare at her.

“Don’t use darling. Please.”

Nadia nods. “Yes. I apologize. You weren’t listening.”

“Listening? Oh! I’m sorry, Nadia, I didn’t consider how this would make you feel… they are just acting like complete assholes, I know you would never-”

“No, no. It’s fine.” It’s not. Nadia is a woman of her word. She had told the Poppy that as soon as Karina and her had started dating, and to have her word so quickly brushed off…? It irked her. A lot. But she sucks it up and faces her girlfriend with the most neutral expression she can manage. “They are your family, Karina. I understand why they are worried.”

“They shouldn’t be.”

“But they are. As much as I dislike being tested like this, I’d say it helped win their favor. We should have no further problems from them.”

“But to go this far… they really crossed the line this time. I won’t forgive them.”

Gently, Nadia tugs Karina’s hand so she’ll stop walking. “If only humans weren’t this emotional... but the fact is they have a right to feel worried, just like you have a right to be angry.”

“We. Just like we.”

A small smile curls up her lips. “Just to be clear, I’d have done the same.”

“Huh?”

“If you were dating Vivienne. I would have tested her, too.”

Karina’s eyes go wide. “Hold on. That day, on the rooftop. You came to test me.”

Nadia swallows the fact that she had originally intended to kill her and just nods. The memory of her past self’s plans still made her skin crawl, even after all this time. She can’t fathom why she’d ever want to harm this woman, this angel. At least those thoughts are long gone, now.

Her girlfriend huffs and shakes her head.

“Am I the only one that would just choose to have a talk?”

“A shovel talk, you mean.”

“Hah. Maybe. So, your point was… I should forgive them? Really? Are you sure?”

“Oh, no, you can still bring them hell. Actually, please do. I was just trying to make you see things their way.”

Karina’s smile is downright predatory. “Oh, I’ll give them hell all right.”

[smokeybrand]

Over the Rainbow

I follow a lot of insider blogs about films because i am interested in them and the machinations behind the scenes. The politics of studio interference and executive ego run deep. Just look at what Kathleen Kennedy did to Star wars in service to her own inflated self image. The problem is, while their content and scoops are pretty substantial and, very often, correct, the presenter, themselves, are toxic f*cking wankers! They’re, like, allergic to representation or attack in droves anyone who is even remotely opinionated about their very specific demographic. It’s White. They’re demo is almost exclusively “Straight White Male” and they f*cking let you know it! It’s wild to see because, like i mentioned before, they have a ton of great content but, at the same time, the actual presenters are insufferable. They’ll decry being called Ist and Phobes but then act like it.

These cats will accuse Disney of bending the knee to China and call the NBA communist but then create an entire expose on how these businesses have been expelled from the CCP. They’ll complain about identity politics but swear they’re not bigoted. They’ll champion how it’s racist for “Straight White Males” to be passed over for jobs in film, while touting “best for the job.” There is no evidence any of this is going on, mind you, it’s more that Hollywood is trying to be more inclusive with their productions after being called out about their problematic ass, very White-washed, sensibilities. F*cking Green Book is a fantastic example of that sh*t. Seriously, how is wanting an Asian director, who may not get that opportunity otherwise, to direct an Asian vehicle like Shang-Chi, any different than a casting call for a very specific look that happens to be very specifically melanated? Why isn’t that racist but the other, is?

I say all of that because these f*ckers are SAVAGING the Eternals trailer. One of the dude’s i follow specifically called it “Dull, boring, and irrelevant.” From a trailer. A less than five minute trailer and this dude was able to crib all of that negativity from it. Five minutes of interspersed glimpses of characters, designs, and the overall world, without context or focus, and it’s the worst thing ever for including a bunch of Brown toned people. It’s like cinematic vomit and this dude decided that the entire, two hour or more run time, is trash from less than five minutes of garbled nonsense. Like, dude, wat. There’s no way we can know how good or bad this film is going to be. There’s no way to know the tone or themes or whatever else, by literally only seeing less than five percent of a film. Are you kidding me? Obviously, this snap judgment is being fueled by some other facet of bias and considering this is one of those “Single White Males” i was just talking about, i have a pretty good understanding of what that bias is.

Marvel’s Eternals looks to be a microcosm of what the MCU is trying to do in Phase Four. We’ve already seen a bit of with the release of WandVision and, more poignant to this essay, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. Marvel is leaning heavy into the strength of their diversity because the world is mad diverse. Eternals reflects that with their casting choices. Hell, everything I'm hearing, and the fact that an Asian women is directing this thing, has lead me to believe that Gemma Chan’s Sersi is the lead character. Guess who isn’t taking point? The classic “Straight White Male”, Ikaris, who is being played by leading man potential, Richard Madden. These cats on all of these blogs are seeing people who look like them, being replaced with people who look like the rest of us, and they’re losing their entire sh*t about it. The Eternals is a cast full of color. the aforementioned Gemma Chan is the focus, of course, but Salma Hayek, Bryan Tyree Henry, Kumail Nanjiani, Lauren Ridloff, Don Lee, Gil Birmingham, and Haaz Sleiman, all make an appearance in supporting roles. That’s an entire f*cking rainbow of representation right there, one that those who lack color probably find “Dull, boring, and irrelevant.”

Hell, Eternals might suck. It might be a rare miss, like Captain Marvel. Or it might be one of the greats like the first Iron Man. We don’t know. It’s not out yet so positioning yourself so antagonistically, after a single trailer, says more about your perceptions than it does your objectivity. And that’s fine. People are going to be dicks. There’s always going to be assholes who refuse to acknowledge my right to live as a Black person. My right to be seen. My right to be free. But those objections don’t stop the march of progress, bud. Ms. Marvel, Kamala Khan, is getting a show. I’m not a fan but i understand the importance of the character. Teenage, Pakistani, Muslim, and Female, getting to headline her own Disney+ Series? F*cking awesome! The Falcon and the Winter Soldier leaning HEAVY into a Tuskegee Experiments subplot with Isaiah Bradley? Teach these motherf*ckers some things! She-Hulk coming through with her cousin, Professor Hulk as a supporting character, after being an integral part of the Infinity Saga, himself? Do it for the fam! Ironheart tapped to take the mantle from Tony and Shuri in talks to becoming the next Black Panther? F*cking Black girl magic, sprinkled all of over the MCU like someone just slapped Tinkerbell’s ass? Go for it! I love all of these colors getting an opportunity to pop but let me check something right quick...

Have the “Straight White Males” been erased from the franchise? No, of course not. Cumquat’s Doc Strange is definitely going to take a leadership role going forward while Chris Pratt is still going to shimmy about as Star-Lord. Hemsworth is probably going to play Thor until Marvel forces him out and Evans might be in talks to reprise as Cap in future titles. And that’s not counting the fact that John Krasinski is almost certainly going to be Mr. Fantastic or that there is an entire swath of characters that have yet to be cast in the the anne-X-ed portion of the Marvel universe. It took until Phase Three for Marvel to drop Black Panther, the first MCU fronted by a person of color, and Captain Marvel, the first MCU film starring a woman. The entire franchise up to that point, was all “Straight White Male.” ll of them. Every entry. Of course, there was diversity presented in those films, definitely not complaining about that. The MCU has been really good about that stuff, making sure to add color to every one of their flicks, expanding upon those roles as the world opened up, so it’s wild to me that those same characters are finally getting top billing and so many motherf*ckers are up at arms about it. Is Anthony Mackie taking up the Shield really that terrible? I mean, his costume is, but that’s not the same. Besides, you motherf*ckers still have Pete, arguably the most successful character on the entire Marvel Roster! Spider-Man is probably the only hero that can give Batman a run for his money at the Box Office and they’re both, technically, “Straight White Males.”

Let people breathe, man. Let the diversity shine through. Let everyone play with the toys, not just you selfish man-children. If the movies are bad, you’ll have a point. Hell, I'll stand beside you and picket, myself, at that point. But we don’t know yet. We don’t know if these are poor choices and snap judgments make you look like an ass. Especially when you take Feige’s track record into account. Dude knows what he’s doing. Let him work. He’s got one hell of an act to follow and i, personally, am all in a tizzy with anticipation at how he’ll pull it off. Immediately shooting down the content before you’ve even had the opportunity to take it in, makes me think you’re just a bigot and that’s gross. Like, you probably have a problem with Splash Mountain being re-branded because The Song of the South is objectively racist. Never mind Magical Negro, Uncle Remus, or racist caricature, Brer Rabbit, there is an actual Tar Baby as a principal factor of that film’s plot. That sh*t is offensive and should be revisited in the context of the modern world. Just like the MCU is doing with Phase Four.

[five-rivers]

In the House of Hours

Based on a prompt by @currentlylurking! Well, two prompts, technically.  You know how it goes.

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In the House of Hours

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In the first hour, he was introduced to his masters. They had made him. He existed by their grace. He was to obey them, always.

They showed him his tasks, his tools, his home.

He was never to leave, except to solve a paradox. He was never to interfere with the timeline, except by their orders, or to prevent it from crumbling. He was to guard the prison below.

The staff could become a scythe. The mirrors could see through time. The medallions on the shelf, medallions that they wore, under their robes (he could tell, thought he didn't know how), exempted others from his ability to manipulate time, and allowed them passage through the mirrors.

His home was a tower, full of ticking.

They did not answer his questions. They did not tell him his name. They left before the hour was out.

He didn't like his masters very much.

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In the second hour, he discovered trying to stop his body from changing made him sick.

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In the third hour, he found a mirror that was just a mirror, and discovered his reflection. He examined himself. Clockwork insides, looping ghostly tail, blue skin, red eyes, a face that kept flicking through ages, always older or younger than when he had last looked. He liked his clothing. It was purple. The words that came to him, he knew, but he did not know where they came from. He didn't know he knew them until they passed his mind.

Everything was new. He was new.

He had a scar over one of his eyes.

Why did something as new as him have a scar?

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In the fourth hour, he discovered that trying to look back at his own timeline made him sick.

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In the fifth hour, he found the library. He read the dictionaries and encyclopedias, then moved on to the other books. He greedily kept all the words to himself. He knew things, now. More than his masters told him.

He couldn't help but notice, there were no stories in his library, and there were large empty spots on his shelves, free even of the lightest coating of dust. His encyclopedias had mentioned stories.

He wondered where they were.

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In the sixth hour, he felt himself pulled to his mirrors. There was a paradox. A knot in reality.

This was his first task. What he had been made for. The thrill that went through him was immense, indescribable.

He worked the knot apart with gloved hands, his tail lashing back and forth. He knew how best to unwind the strings of time, what tools to use, how long each step should take.

It was so odd, to have been created with that knowledge, but it all felt so right. Like he had done it a thousand times before.

When he was done, he sank to the floor of the mirror room, drained. He almost wanted another paradox to happen, even though that would be bad for the timeline.

A dreamy smile came to his lips as he shifted from old to young. The timeline. It was his job to keep it safe. To keep it healthy. He already loved it, sitting here. It was more than worth enduring masters who didn't even give him a name.

Didn't even give him their names, come to think of it.

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In the seventh hour, there was a knock on the door. He drifted towards it, curious. His masters had left through that door. Had they come back? Perhaps they had forgotten something.

Such as his name.

He played with the door handles, unsure if he should open them. His masters had said not to leave. Opening the doors didn't count, did it?

He pulled on the handles, frowned, and then pushed.

His masters weren't there. Instead, a small... boy. Yes, a boy. A small boy floated there. A ghost. His white hair was in disarray, and tears streaked his face. He held a thick, glowing book to his chest.

"Clockwork?" the child asked, his voice wavering.

"What about it?" he asked, endeavoring to be polite despite his confusion. Strange though this child may have been, he was still the first person he had met other than his masters. He was curious.

Perhaps the child was asking about- "My appearance? Or the tower?"

The child's lips wavered. His eyes went shiny, the green light in them glinting off tears gathering at their lower lids. Then his small round face crumpled, and he burst into tears, whole body trembling.

This was evidently the wrong thing to say.

He froze, uncertain how to handle this. Futures lay before him, but he couldn't interpret them. There were too many.

There had been no books on how to handle children, ghost or otherwise, in his library, a horrific oversight if he was expected to deal with this kind of a situation on his first day of existence. He made a note to correct that on his first opportunity.

He almost reached out, some deep instinct reacting to the child's distress, but stopped, remembering the admonition not to leave without permission.

"Would you like to come in?" he asked instead. His first guest. It could be worse.

At the invitation, the child practically flung himself at him, and clung to him with one arm, the other still wrapped around the book, sobbing.

"Clockwork," he said, "I'm so, so sorry."

"Ah," was the only response he could come up with. He attempted to gently pry the child off. He had no idea how much force children could endure without breaking. In fact, he wasn't sure how much force an adult ghost could endure without breaking. Or, perhaps more to the point, how much force he could apply. It hadn't come up yet.

"Clockwork is-" said the child, speaking into his robe and doubtless getting all kinds of slime on it. "Clockwork is your name. The Observants didn't tell you?"

"Who?" The name was rather fitting. A bit childish, perhaps, but fitting. He was made of clockwork, after all.

The child shuddered and looked up, eyes burning. "They didn't tell you?"

"Other than my makers, you are the first being I have met," he said. "I do not know what 'they' you are referring to. Furthermore, I do not know who you are, and cannot imagine how you know me, as I have not existed for fewer than seven hours."

"That's not true," insisted the child, voice wavering but somehow also furious. "That's a lie."

He was growing somewhat annoyed, now. Who was this child, to barge into his home, cry on him, and then call him a liar?

Before he could begin to take the child to task, he thrust out the book he was holding, pushing it into his chest so that it rubbed against the clock case in it. Reflexively, he took it.

"This," said the child. "This has everything you need to know. At least," the child wilted. "That's what you said before." He choked back a sob. "This is all my fault, and I hope- I hope you'll forgive me, when you're done reading it. I- I should go." He backed away, then turned and fled, zooming into the distance.

Clockwork watched him go. He seemed rather fast for such a small ghost.

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In the eighth hour, he read the book.

He read the book.

He read the book.

He read the book.

He read the book.

He read the book.

,,,

Daniel has been pestering me about my history, lately. He seems to be under the impression that I am concealing some sort of tale of adventure that he wants to 'unlock.' That I did 'daring deeds' in my 'youth.' I have attempted to explain to Daniel that I never had a youth, but he is, as ever, impervious to reason.

,,,

I have resorted to telling Daniel that knowledge of my past is dangerous. However, as I could not reveal the nature of the danger without triggering it, Daniel did not believe me, and only became more determined to find out my 'dark and tragic backstory.' My backstory, as it were, is neither dark nor tragic, and, in any case, is none of his business.

I told him this.

We have had something of a falling out. I can only hope that this is not the end of our relationship. My sight is often inaccurate when it comes to Daniel.

,,,

Daniel has relented. Perhaps I should not be so surprised. Like any ghost, he can grab on to an idea and refuse to release it, but he has always been attentive to the needs of others. It is one of his most admirable qualities.

But all this talk of history has given me the urge to refresh my memories. I shall visit the old books tomorrow.

,,,

Daniel knows.

Curse my carelessness and his curiosity, but he knows. I should not have left this book exposed on my desk when he is known to visit at all hours.

He has sworn not to tell. I can only hope it will be enough. But it was not enough for those who came before me, and none of us have ever known why.

,,,

They know.

Daniel and his friends have devised a rather clever plan on my behalf, one that I would not have considered on my own. Perhaps I am too resigned to my fate, too eager to submit, the weight of those who have come before me and failed pressing down on my shoulders. Perhaps I should have hope.

,,,

It didn't work. Rather, it did, in all particulars but the one I failed to foresee. They have taken Daniel. They will kill him, if I do not come.

,,,

Daniel, I have put this book where you might find it, so that you will bring it to the version of the Master of Time that comes after me. Consider it a final request on my part.

Be reassured that this is inevitable. I have, after all, never escaped being reset to my initial state once the Observants have set their mind on it. I do not blame you. I could never blame you. Over our acquaintance, I have come to value you as my closest friend. Even, as a son.

I cannot say the same for my 'blank' version. I did not react well to this revelation in the past, although, presumably, you will get this book to him in a period of time shorter than a hundred years. Still, I advise you not to linger.

With all the love an automaton such as myself can express, I wish you well, Daniel.

-Clockwork, Master of Time

,,,

Clockwork tilted his head back and screamed, because he knew exactly what had been taken from him and why.

He read the book again.

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In the ninth hour, he looked for the other books, the books his... former self had mentioned, the ones he had learned from. He practically tore the tower (Long Now. The tower had a name. Long Now.) to shreds in his need.

They weren't there.

He went to his mirrors, looking for them through time. They were hidden in far away places. Out of the tower, out of his reach.

Unless he broke the rules.

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In the tenth hour, he broke the rules. He gathered up the books and more. He found a letter, on fresh, white paper.

,,,

To my later self,

Now that you have read the records of our past incarnations, you have perhaps noticed a disturbing trend. When another learns of my history, I am wiped clean, made into a blank slate. But the one who learned vanishes entirely, without fail, no more than a week after my memories are removed.

I know what this means for Daniel. You do, too.

Whatever animosity you bear him, I beg you, do not let them destroy him.

-Clockwork, Master of Time

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In the eleventh hour, he searched for the boy, Daniel, through the time windows. He did not experience the animosity his former self seemed to expect, but neither did he feel the obvious affection he had had for the young ghost.

This frustrated him. No, it angered him. It infuriated him.

How dare his 'masters' steal his history and then pretend to have made him? How dare they steal his connections, his relationships to others, his name?

He remembered fewer than eleven hours, and he had been so lonely. He hadn't even realized it until he read the books. He was still lonely.

The mirrors seemed to stare at him, like the eyes of his masters, mocking him for being unable to find his past self's child.

There.

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As the twelfth hour struck, he reached through the mirror, and pulled the child into his arms.

The child struggled, at first, understandably. Clockwork hadn't given him any warning, and he had been in a rather brutal fight. Twenty against one was not a fair fight by any stretch of the imagination, and, while Clockwork's knowledge concerning children was limited, he had absorbed the fact that children were generally weaker than their adult counterparts and also that the general sentiment was that children should be protected.

As soon as Daniel noticed that it was Clockwork holding him, he went limp, large green eyes blinking up at him, as though dazed. Perhaps, he truly was dazed. He was injured in a number of locations, the most apparent being a thickly weeping gash over his left eye.

"Clockwork?" he asked, voice thin.

Clockwork felt faintly ill. The boy's opponents had been his masters. They would know what Clockwork had done. They would be coming. Would they make him forget, again?

"Clockwork?" repeated the boy, shaking his arm. "Are you okay?"

Clockwork stopped time.

No one had asked him that, before. His masters certainly hadn't, when they had woken him.

He shuddered, holding the child close, and made a decision. This child had belonged to his previous self, as far as he understood such things. As he was, in most ways, the same entity as his previous self, or at least his heir, that meant this child belonged to him.

His child.

No, he would not let his masters take Daniel. He would not let them destroy him, the only thing he could truly say was his.

But his masters could move through time, just as he could. They would be here soon, to take and punish. The loss of these last several hours would not be great, compared to the others he had suffered. He would find the books again, eventually. But the loss of Daniel?

That was untenable. Daniel had to be preserved.

He opened the door that led to the prison nestled in the roots of Long Now, and flew straight down the stairwell, eschewing the stairs. There were monsters kept down here. Horrors frozen in time, turned into vapor, and sealed in the foot-deep, hands-breadth-wide honeycomb cells in the walls, never to be released. Things that were simply wrong. Their crimes were listed on neat little cards outside their individual cells.

Core buzzing, Clockwork pressed Daniel's hand to the mouth of an empty cell, activating it. As the temporally-frozen child was absorbed, the opening automatically sealed itself.

There. Safe.

With trembling hands, Clockwork filled out a card with an explanation of Daniel's crime. Defying the High Council of Observants. If the patterns in his old journals held true, he would eventually grow to despise the Observants. Even if it took a year, ten years, a hundred, a thousand, one day he would question his 'makers.' One day he would become curious enough to open a prison labeled like this.

He wrote something entirely different on the back of the card before he affixed it to the front of Daniel's prison.

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In the thirteenth hour, the Observants came, carrying Clockwork's key.

As they pushed it into the hole in his back, they told him how they always knew when someone discovered his weakness. Eventually, inevitably, that person would try to steal it, and the Observants kept a very close eye on the future of the key to prevent such an event.

Two months from now, Daniel would have tried to steal the key.

He would have given it to him.

They couldn't have that.

Like always, Clockwork forgot.

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In the first hour, he was introduced to his masters. They had made him. He existed by their grace. He was to obey them, always.

They showed him his tasks, his tools, his home.

He was never to leave, except to solve a paradox. He was never to interfere with the timeline, except by their orders, or to prevent it from crumbling. He was to guard the prison below.

The staff could become a scythe. The mirrors could see through time. The medallions on the shelf, medallions that they wore, under their robes (he could tell, thought he didn't know how), exempted others from his ability to manipulate time, and allowed them passage through the mirrors.

His home was a tower, full of ticking.

They did not answer his questions. They did not tell him his name. They left before the hour was out.

He didn't like his masters very much.

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In the nine hundred and two thousand, two hundred and ninety ninth hour, Clockwork ached. He had ached for a long time, though for what, he did not know. The ache echoed in the hollow spaces inside his chest, and sometimes he wondered if the ache was, in fact, a longing. A yearning. He had seen it in others.

But what would a creature like him long for?

He had a home, a purpose, time for leisure, all the luxuries he could dream up. Shouldn't that be enough?

Well. Freedom would be nice. Not having to obey the Observants, carry out their version of the timeline... that would be good. There were just so many better versions of future history, so many more elegant solutions to problems. Wars he could have stopped. Happy endings he could have facilitated.

Wouldn't it be better, to maximize happiness in the timeline? Or at least to maximize freedom of choice?

He thought about all the tragedies he could have avoided simply by solving a paradox or world-ending disaster in a different way than the Observants had insisted on.

Sometimes, he hated the Observants.

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In the nine hundred and two thousand, eight hundred and seventy first hour, he idly looked through the Infinite Realms with one of his viewing mirrors. He had time, he always had time, and he was bored.

The Infinite Realms were, by their nature, infinite, with infinite variety. Even Clockwork had not seen, and could never see, all of them. There were an uncountable number of wonders out among the ectoplasmic mists.

But Clockwork was feeling melancholy, so he was looking at more mundane sights, closer to home, flying the perspective of the mirror across flying islands and through caves, pretending he was the one making the flight.

He spiraled through a cave and- Wait a moment. He pulled the perspective back. There was a neat little library tucked into the corner of the cave. He zoomed in, curious, then he startled, so hard his chest clock missed a tick. That was a hard thing to do. He was over a hundred years old.

The books had his symbol on them.

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In the nine hundred and three thousand and twelfth hour, he finally gathered up the courage to break the rules, leave Long Now, and go look at the books. In all this time, he had never set foot outside his tower.

The journey was exhilarating. Partially because of how swiftly he was going. He didn't foresee the Observants visiting, but he couldn't always see them clearly. But as for the rest...

There was just something different about doing this in person, in feeling the ectoplasm on his face, in being able to turn his head and see, well, not everything, but it felt like more than he could see through his mirrors.

He found the cave quickly enough, as well he should. He had used his mirrors to map out the very route he had taken dozens, if not hundreds, of times before actually taking the dive and going. Or, now that he was here, should he say coming?

He was almost giddy.

Some of that faded when he laid eyes on the books again. Why would there be books out here with his symbol on them? It felt ominous.

He read the books.

He read the books.

He read them again...

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In the nine hundred and three thousand, seven hundred and seventh hour, Clockwork went down to the prison. After reading the most recent of the journals, and then, of course, recording his own and adding it to the collection, he had decided to oppose the Observants.

True, he didn't dare do so openly. He didn't want to be erased, but he had some leeway to make things more difficult for them. He could make some of those decisions, those alterations to the timeline, that they had warned him off of. Perhaps he could even, at first, pretend that they were mistakes.

But, first things first. If he was going to defy the Observants, it would be useful to speak to someone who had done so before, and so successfully that the Observants felt the need to imprison them here.

He wondered, what would they be like? A warrior, perhaps? A politician? A scholar?

Would they even want to help him? He understood that so much time spent in the honeycomb prisons could be... difficult.

Or would they be evil? Would they fight him? In his time, he had imprisoned more than one utterly foul villain down below.

Rarely did he wish so fervently to be able to look at his own personal timeline.

But he had to take the risk. If he understood that last journal correctly, the Observants had destroyed his son. His surrogate son, to be sure, but still. For ghosts, that was good enough. At least, Clockwork could find no sign of Daniel in the time after his 'reset.'

He'd never had a chance to fulfill his immediate predecessor's final request.

Clockwork imagined what it would be like, to have a child. To have family. He had seen humans and ghosts with such things, such people. They weren't always happy, but Clockwork couldn't help but wonder if having one would have filled the constant ache inside him.

But there was no more time for musing on what could have been. He was in front of the prison, looking down at the label that said, Defying the High Council of Observants.

He reached out and deactivated the seal.

Vapor poured out, and slowly, sluggishly, began to form into a ghost. A rather small, slender ghost. Its- His head barely came up to Clockwork's shoulders.

This child had defied the Observants?

Almost as soon as the last bit of vapor condensed, the ghost collapsed. Clockwork caught him before he hit the floor, and he squirmed in his arms, twisting to latch onto Clockwork's robes. He made small mumbling noises, too confused and slurred to count as speech.

Behind him, the label card fluttered to the floor, and, for the first time, Clockwork noticed that there was writing on the other side. He summoned it to him with a touch of telekinesis.

The reverse side of the card read Daniel, son of Clockwork.

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In the nine hundred and three thousand, seven hundred and eighth hour, Clockwork carried the smaller ghost up the stairs. He, Daniel, was obviously in a bit of shock after being in the cell for so long. Not having a body, among the other effects of the prison, could remove a ghost's sense of time and self, and wear away at things like motor control and the ability to speak.

At least, that's what his past selves had recounted. He had never had the opportunity or reason to release a prisoner before.

He tried to put the little ghost down, but Daniel was insistent on staying attached, burying his head in the crook of Clockwork's neck. Finally, however, he dozed off and became human. Which was something he did.

Well. When he woke up, he could tell Clockwork how he had found himself in Long Now's prison.

.

As of the nine hundred and three thousand, seven hundred and sixtieth hour, Daniel had yet to do anything of the sort.

What he did do was look up at Clockwork with large, trusting eyes, cuddle, eat, sleep, and make soft, indistinct almost-speech noises. It filled the aching emptiness inside Clockwork, but also made him worried. Had the time in the prison broken Daniel in some way?

But how could Clockwork fix him?

The best Clockwork could do was provide for Daniel's needs and hold him, letting his core hum him to sleep.

.

In the nine hundred and three thousand, seven hundred and ninety fifth hour, Clockwork became convinced Daniel was shrinking. Becoming softer, slightly more rounded.

Younger?

He was right.

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In the nine hundred and three thousand, eight hundred and tenth hour, Clockwork stopped dithering and made plans to take him to a doctor.

Daniel had had interactions with the Far Frozen before. Positive interactions. For that matter, they still worshiped him. Literally. Even if they did think he had been ended.

Better, they had Daniel's old medical files. If anyone could tell what was wrong, they could.

He bundled Daniel up in heavy, insulating clothing, unsure how his human body would handle the cold, and wrapped him in his cloak. Danny giggled and mumbled the whole time and, as soon as Clockwork finished, promptly fell asleep.

Clockwork, rather daringly, chose to travel to the Far Frozen via mirror. It was faster, that way.

Rather than first registering the cold, Clockwork was struck by how brilliantly, blindingly white the Far Frozen was. The view through the mirror hadn't done it justice.

Nor had it done justice to how large the yetis were. Or the size of their warriors' spears.

"Who are you?" demanded one of them, while others scurried around. "Why have come here?"

"It is my understanding that your tribe prides itself on its medical knowledge," said Clockwork.

"You're here for treatment?" asked the yeti, warily.

"Not for myself," said Clockwork, revealing Daniel's bundled form.

The yeti gasped. "Great One!"

.

In the nine hundred and three thousand, eight hundred and eleventh hour, Clockwork learned about jealousy. He had never truly been jealous before, but now... Now he could say with certainty that he was, and he hated it.

He hated more that Daniel was favoring Frostbite with that trusting, open look of his. He hated that Frostbite remembered Daniel, and he, Clockwork, only had written recollections.

Daniel was his, not Frostbite's.

But he forced himself to watch the examination and Daniel's interactions with the other ghost dispassionately. This was about finding out what was wrong with Daniel and healing him, not Clockwork's petty and, frankly, shameful feelings.

Frostbite gave Daniel a lollipop and tucked a thick blanket around his shoulders before walking over to Clockwork.

"Do you know what happened to him?" asked Frostbite.

"Not precisely," said Clockwork. "I found him in a vapor prison."

Frostbite grumbled, almost growled, deep in his chest. "That would explain certain things. To be trapped without a body for so long..." Frostbite shook his head. "His currently state is something of a defense mechanism. To protect his mind, both the human and ghostly sides of it, he turned off everything but base instincts. Some of it has started to recover, but certain aspects of it are being rewritten, as he adapts to his new situation."

"Rewritten?" asked Clockwork, hiding his anxiety. If Daniel could not remember, Clockwork could not ask him what had happened. If Daniel did not remember, he would be cursed in the same way as Clockwork. "Why? For what reason?"

Frostbite fixed Clockwork with a yellow stare. "He has bonded with you," said Frostbite. "Accepted you as a parent. He is instinctively altering himself to better fit that role. Some of those alterations are disrupting or recycling dormant structures in his core, which in turn affects his human brain."

"Ah," said Clockwork. "Is there any way to," he made a small, abortive gesture, "let him be himself again? Wake up those structures, those memories? Before more are destroyed."

"Yes," said Frostbite. "But it may be kinder to let him forget."

"What do you mean?" asked Clockwork, irritated. He knew what forgetting was like. It wasn't kind.

"He has been gone for a long time," said Frostbite. "His human family and friends..." he sighed. "Humans do not live that long, and he was very attached to them. They will be dead by now, and I have not heard of them becoming ghosts."

Clockwork worried at his gloves. Yes, that matched with what he had read in his predecessor's journal. He had taken a look at the fates of the residents of Amity Park after Daniel's disappearance. They had not been universally pleasant. The city itself had been abandoned shortly after, except for attempts to close the Fenton Portal and prevent ghosts from escaping into nearby areas.

"It should be his decision, whether to remember or forget," said Clockwork. "He needs all the relevant information, and all his wits. Should he wish to forget afterwards, I will take him to the Lethe." He wasn't being selfish with this. He wouldn't even ask Daniel about his former self before asking after his decision.

Frostbite nodded. "Let's get to it, then."

.

Daniel woke again in the nine hundred and three thousand, eight hundred and twenty second hour.

Clockwork had been working himself into a sort of numb panic when it happened, worrying about whether or not the the Observants would try to visit him in Long Now and find him gone, worrying about when Daniel would wake, worrying about what Daniel would know, and how to break the news that his family was dead to him.

But seeing Daniel's eyes fluttering open eased some of those worries.

"Clockwork?" he mumbled, reaching for the edge of Clockwork's cloak.

"I am here, Daniel," said Clockwork, taking his hand.

"What happened?" asked Daniel, his words slurring slightly.

"I am afraid I do not remember," said Clockwork.

Daniel's features twisted in distress. "They made you forget again?" he asked, the last word a whine. "That's not fair."

"What do you remember, Daniel?"

"I remember- I remember you pulling me away from the Observants," he said. "Through the mirror, I mean. They were going to kill me, they said. Because I knew about your key, and I was going to try to steal it, they said." He shuddered. "I was losing. They really were going to do it."

"I pulled you through?"

"Mhm," said Daniel. "I was surprised, because I thought you'd be mad at me, after I gave you the book. The journal, I mean. Because you forgot everything, and it was my fault." Daniel's eyes glittered with water.

"I don't blame you," said Clockwork. "You got the book to me?"

"Yeah," said Daniel.

This suggested that there was a short-lived version of himself between the author of the last journal and his own first memory. One who hadn't a chance to write a record of himself, one who had saved Daniel from the Observants, and sealed him into the honeycomb prison.

"And after that?"

"Mm. After that... It was like being in the Fenton Thermos, I guess? It was all fuzzy. Fuzzier. And the inside was different, I think. I don't know. I couldn't get out. And then I was with you? But it was like a dream."

"You were with me," said Clockwork.

"Oh, that's good," said Daniel. "Was I in the thermos? Is that how you hid me from the Observants?"

"You were in a similar object," said Clockwork. "Daniel, I must warn you, because the Observants removed my memory of hiding you, you were in it for quite some time."

"Days?" asked Daniel, eyebrows knitting in concern. "I guess I'll have to come up with a really good excuse for Mom and Dad. Unless you can send me back through time? Or maybe not, if the Observants are still looking for me."

"It was significantly longer than that," said Clockwork.

"Weeks?"

Clockwork shook his head. Daniel struggled to prop himself in a sitting position on the bed.

"Months?" he whispered.

"Daniel, it has been over one hundred and three years."

The boy gasped and fell back. Clockwork could hear the steady rhythm of his heart and core jumble momentarily."

"One hundred and three?" he asked, voice almost inaudible, even to Clockwork. "They're all dead, aren't they? Everyone I knew."

"With the exception of Plasmius, I am afraid so."

"Of course that fruitloop would survive. I-" Daniel choked back a sob.

Clockwork, uncertainly, patted Daniel's shoulder. Daniel rolled over onto Clockwork's arm and cried into it. "Can you send me back?" he asked. "Please?"

"The Observants would find you," said Clockwork, "and you aren't from that time anymore. You would have to wear a time medallion constantly."

"I could phase it into myself," said Daniel, pulling himself up Clockwork's arm. "That's what Dan did. I won't become Dan, will I?" Daniel's eyes were wide and wild. "You have to send me back. I don't want to become Dan."

"You won't," soothed Clockwork, pulling Daniel into his lap. He only knew of Dan through the journal. He couldn't see a ghost like that in any future. He began to rub circles into Daniel's back, just above his core. "Don't worry, I'll make sure of it." He tried to send out comforting pulses with his core. He had read extensively on the subject of ghost children since he had found Daniel, but that didn't mean he had any experience, or confidence, with them as of yet.

"Will you send me back?" asked Daniel, weakly.

"I can't," said Clockwork. "But if you want, I can help you forget. There is a river-"

"I don't want to forget," said Daniel.

That was that.

.

In the nine hundred and three thousand, eight hundred and fifty eighth hour, they went home.

Before they left, Frostbite stopped Clockwork. "The Great One will keep changing," he said.

"I thought you fixed that," said Clockwork, watching as the small boy raised his hands to the sky to catch snowflakes.

"There was nothing to fix," said Frostbite. "The changes are natural. A child's ability to adapt is beneficial. The only issue was that they were blindly destroying inactive parts of himself." He paused. "He may come to forget his past, naturally. He may experience further changes to his appearance, personality, or powers. Take care of him."

"I intend to," said Clockwork.

.

In the nine hundred and fifteen thousand, two hundred and third hour, Daniel finally stabilized.

In either form, he looked about ten, slender, gentle, and quiet. His eyes were, perhaps, a touch larger than a human would find natural, and his canines came to sharp, sweet points. He wore robes like Clockwork's, now, purple as a human, and silver and black as a ghost.

He told jokes frequently, but quietly, and could hide so well that even Clockwork couldn't find him, even when looking through time. When Clockwork worked on paradoxes, he stood by the table and watched, quietly, always knowing which tool to hand Clockwork, often before Clockwork even realized he would need it. He loved to read the astronomy books in the library. He loved training his many powers with Clockwork.

He was different from the Daniel the journal had described and yet, somehow, exactly the same.

Clockwork loved him so much. If the Observants ever found out about him-

But they didn't. Daniel hid every time the Observants even came close to Long Now. And that was fine.

.

In the nine hundred and ninety nine thousand, eight hundred and first hour, someone else found out about the key.

The Observants saw this.

.

In the one millionth hour, the Observants came for Clockwork, bearing his key.

They did not see Daniel, lying in wait for them.

Very soon they did not see anything at all.

(After all, Daniel had once defeated Pariah Dark in single combat.)

.

Clockwork picked his key up from the ground and walked to Daniel, putting an arm around his small, trembling shoulders.

"I'm sorry about making a mess," said Daniel, prodding a slowly-melting glob of ecotplasm with one bare foot.

"Don't worry," said Clockwork, turning the key over in his fingers, marveling at what it felt like to finally be free. "We'll clean it up in no time at all."

.

.

.

This was supposed to end either with Clockwork's memory getting wiped again, or with new Clockwork finding Danny, but my brain wouldn't let me stop. I'm sorry. Hope my gimmick here didn't bother anyone too much.