#safety and energy and risk management

[northstarehs]

Protect your workers from the Risk of manual handling injuries at work

[misscammiedawn]

Time Loops and Dissociation

CW: suicidal ideation, glitchy unreality, overt depictions of self-harm, parental abandonment

This essay contains full game spoilers for In Stars and Time.

You wake up to your alarm at the same time every day. The same view greets you from your window. Same sheets. Same outfits in your closet to get dressed in. Same choice of drinks in your kitchen to put in the same choice of cups. Same 24 hours but a different day. What better way to capture the existential horror of disconnecting from the world than to simply take away the words "but a different day" and make it the same 24 hours.

Time Loop fiction likes to capture the monotony of being caught in a rut. For some stories, like Groundhog Day, the rut could be that of not working on one’s self and accepting the eternal trappings of a never ending moment and not seeking change. For others, like Palm Springs, it is the conflict within a romantic relationship between one partner wishing to grow and find new experience while another wishes to remain in the safety of the known. Others still, like All You Need Is Kill, the conflict is a matter of maintaining one's optimism and drive in a hopeless fight against an antagonistic force that will crush their spirit upon the weight of eternity.

The constants in this genre are the forces of change and stagnation. Exit can be accomplished via self-improvement, it can be accomplished by having the bravery to risk leaving safety, it can be accomplished by killing every last time looping alien until you’re the only one left. But the allegories are always there. Tomorrow can only be attained by growing beyond Today. Change doesn’t happen in a day and as those stuck in a time loop know… a day can be an impossibly long time. And what does a person do during that impossibly long time? Repeating the same acts over and over again, where people become predictable and all the complexity of life has been stripped down until there’s nothing but cold empty and predictable monotony? You dissociate.

Dissociating is the experience of detaching from reality. Dissociation encompasses the feeling of daydreaming or being intensely focused, as well as the distressing experience of being disconnected from reality. In this state, consciousness, identity, memory, and perception are no longer naturally integrated. Dissociation often occurs as a result of stress or trauma, and it may be indicative of a dissociative disorder or other mental health condition.(*)

Every time loop story inevitably includes a segment where the pain of going around and around becomes simply too much to handle and the audience must witness the protagonist's mental health decline in real time. It is the moment in the story when they no longer feel able to connect with other humans, when they disconnect and just succumb to the weight of the eternity that they are trapped within. For most the idea of being stuck in a rut is a horrific thing. People are a social species. We seek connection and we seek change. We actively want to grow. But this is not true for everyone. Some are so scared and scarred by the world that they dare not ruin the safety that they have managed to find. Narrowing one's world down to avoid conflict and danger is a common feature in Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, particularly in those with a tendency to freeze in the face of their emotional triggers.

The flight-freeze type avoids potential relationship-retraumatization with an obsessivecompulsive/dissociative “two-step.” Step one is working to complete exhaustion. Step two is collapsing into extreme “veging out”, and waiting until [their] energy reaccumulates enough to relaunch into step one. The price for this type of no-longer-necessary safety is a severely narrowed existence. - (Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving - Pete Walker)

And that is the heart of any time loop. Safety at the price of a narrow existence.

-

For this essay I want to talk about a piece of media that masterfully manages the time loop dilemma while managing to depict a remarkably strong representation of Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Today I want to talk about In Stars and Time. Because if I'm gonna highlight a time loop story for my essays on dissociative disorders then I'm going to do the one which has a "Press X to dissociate" mechanic.

In Stars and Time is an RPG Maker game in the stylings of Earthbound and Final Fantasy. The star of the play game is Siffrin (he/they), a silly little one who tells light-hearted puns and has their tongue stuck out in a :3 cat face smile.

As the thief type of the party he leads the group through dungeons to deactivate traps and find keys he can sometimes be bad at his job. They have managed to help the team get to the final dungeon and take on The King who has managed to freeze most of the nation of Vaugarde in time. Their adventuring friends are Mirabelle (she/her), the housemaiden; Isabeau (he/him), the fighter; Odile (she/her), the researcher; and Bonnie (they/them), the kid. Siffrin finds themselves trapped within a time loop. Reliving the same 2 day period as the party make their approach to The King and must defeat him to release Vaugarde from being eternally frozen in time. The game speaks frankly and kindly on many topics beyond mental health and trauma. Among the many rare and beautiful things it organically depicts it has an asexual and an aromantic discussing society's pressure to enter relationships and perform intimate acts, a trans masc discussing the destructive and yet necessary process of transitioning and two expats discussing how difficult it is to integrate their cultural roots (or lack thereof) with the values and expectations of the dominant culture of their new environment. Keep that last one in your back pocket for now. It'll be important for later. This is the last chance to check the game out unspoiled and so if anything I have said intrigues enough then please buy the game (Steam - Switch - Playstation 4 - Playstation 5 - GOG - Itch.io) and enjoy it. The game is about 20 hours at a casual pace (WR speedrun is 2.5 hours) and it has much in the way of hidden conversations and content that can help a person stick around and dig deep to find all the content in the game (but watch out). Go with my blessing and check DoesTheDogDie for content warnings if needed. For those who have played or want to read on into spoiler territory, then please forgive my long-windedness. I've too much time on my hands and have not cultivated the skills or talent to present this as a video for passive enjoyment. Let's begin. The game is split into 6 acts so in the interests of not bombarding with information. Shall we follow suit?

Act 1 - The Stage

The curtain rises and the play begins. Act 1 makes up the first loop from Siffrin's perspective. If not for the time loops then this would be a very short adventure. Siffrin wakes up from a nap in a field as they will every single loop from now on. They are in the final town before the enemy stronghold, one final day to rest and gather their strength and resolve to save the country. The group's leader, Mirabelle, has decided to have a sleepover. One final day, one final dungeon, one final fight... and then it's all over. The world will finally be saved. It'll all be over... Siffrin spends the day speaking to their friends, making a wish on the local Favor Tree to spend time with an ally after the adventure and then it's on to the adventure. Isabeau has something he wants to tell Siffrin but decides it can wait until they have saved the world. Entering the house and moving through the first few rooms all seems to be going well. The party of friends beat their first few enemies and Siffrin is sent to check for traps in a corridor leading into the main areas of the house. He checks and checks and checks and doesn't find anything so...

The trap is activated by feeling safe.

For clarity I wish to say much of the analysis and discussion is our personal read of the plot. Before writing this essay we reached out to insertdisc5 to ask about how they approached depicting mental illness in the game and they responded that it was not a matter of research as she was worried about checking off boxes rather than depicting authentic experience. Which makes it all the more impressive that the game was able to depict so many aspects of Complex PTSD so seamlessly. From Walker's book the primary symptoms of CPTSD are:

Emotional Flashbacks Tyrannical Inner &/or Outer Critic Toxic Shame Self-Abandonment Social anxiety Abject feelings of loneliness and abandonment Fragile Self-esteem Attachment disorder Developmental Arrests Relationship difficulties Radical mood vacillations Dissociation via distracting activities or mental processes Hair-triggered fight/flight response Oversensitivity to stressful situations Suicidal Ideation

Over the course of the game Siffrin displays many, if not all of these. One of the core conflicts of the game is Siffrin's feelings of loneliness and abandonment as well as their inner critic and toxic shame.

Another common trait of those with C-PTSD not referenced in the above list is a sensitive startle reflex. It is mentioned in the same book at a later point, however:

A startle response is the sudden full body-flinching that survivors experience at loud noises or unanticipated physical contact. This is usually a somatic flashback to previous abuses.

I bring this all up now because Siffrin's first death. The cause of the first loop. HIS FIRST FAILURE. Was because he let his guard down. He felt safe for even a moment. This is not a reading or something which can be brought up for debate. On floor two of the house there is a book that explains the traps and speaks of the boulder that landed on Siffrin's head earlier:

Throughout the entire adventure Siffrin will have the toxic and universe validated belief that if they ever drop their guard, even for a single moment they may die. This belief will only get worse as they progress, unfortunately. For those with Complex PTSD they walk through life in a state of hyper-vigilance. Never quite feeling safe. Siffrin died the moment he let his guard down. [Dawn here. This is turning out to be the longest Media, Myself and I article by a wide margin. For the sake of not destroying everyone's timelines I'll put the rest of the game under a readmore. I would so very much love it if you did click on, though.]

Act 2 - The Performance

The curtain rises and the play begins. Again. Much of Act 2 is spent trying to get to The King and defeat him. Mistakes such as forgetting a key on an earlier floor or taking a wrong path will cause Siffrin to need to loop back. All the while inwardly berating themselves for their carelessness, knowing that in a world without the time loops they would have been trapped and unable to challenge The King at all. We are also introduced to Loop, a star who watches over Siffrin during his journey. Loop is in the time loop with Siffrin and can follow his progress, offer advice and comment on everything. Loop is a little disaffected and likes to play things silly and coy and can be a little mean at times. But they say they're here to help Siffrin. As the adventuring friends climb to the final boss we get to see Siffrin's rapport with the party. Siffrin likes to stay on the sidelines and listen in to other people having animated conversation. Everyone is nervous to touch him having universally come to an understanding that Siffrin does not like to be touched. They make fun of Siffrin's poor memory (another common trait of those with dissociative disorders that we will talk about more in time) and they treat one another warmly. However during a bit of banter in a snack break...

(source: ISAT Script Project) Note that Siffrin internalizes the comment "we're not friends." instantly. From this point of the game until a latter moment all times that Siffrin's monologue refers to his party the word "friends" is replaced with "allies". They are so sensitive to abandonment and rejection that the they simply accept Odile's words, not even aimed at Siffrin themselves and internalizes them deep enough that the HUD of the game itself changes to accommodate this belief. It was mentioned at the start that Siffrin is a silly traveler who enjoys puns and makes light of most situations. In battles the game uses a Rock, Paper, Scissors weapon triangle and all of Siffrin's attack names are puns. In the profile menu he sticks his tongue out. His battle image is a playfully confident smirk.

During the game we always have access to Siffrin's inner monologue and can tell how they interpret the world around them but they seldom ever voice their opinions. This allows us to see how often they are convincingly laughing on the outside while hurting on the inside. Siffrin, unable and unwilling to approach their shame and self-loathing and terrified of becoming a burden to their friends allies will deflect whenever he sense that they are hurting.

A person (or dissociative part) may avoid being aware of inner experiences such as feelings or thoughts that might evoke shame. Thus, he or she is not aware of the experience of shame, typically does not acknowledge the negative experience of self, engages in denial, and attempts to distract self and others away from the painful feeling. For example, a person who felt ashamed in therapy might start making jokes or flippantly comment that the session is boring or useless, or he or she might try to change the subject entirely or even switch to another part that has a different agenda. The experience becomes neutral or positive; shame may be disowned or denied, or overridden with joy or excitement in distracting activities (joking around, talking about something else). There is little to no awareness of shame or one’s shameful actions, faults, or characteristics. The motivation is to minimize the conscious experience of shame or to prove that one does not feel shame. - (Coping With Trauma Related Dissociation - Suzette Boon, Kathy Steele, Onno van der Hart)

The other key thing we have come to learn about how others perceive Siffrin is their memory issues. Memory issues are a constant part of dissociative disorders with a lack of childhood memories being a key feature in Complex Dissociative Disorders such as Depersonalization/Derealization Disorder and Dissociative Identity Disorder. If I am being honest about my motivations for writing this essay, while playing it I keyed in on the lack of memories early and assumed it to be an allegory for such trauma. Even made a Tumblr post stating this. On the top floor of the house of change in a secret room and only during Act 2 there is a bit of dialogue where Siffrin speaks about their childhood.

This was the moment we knew we needed to write about this game. What is missing from the text above is that when Siffrin stammers on their words there is a time loop effect. The first one in the game that is activated by something other than a death or the natural end of the loop. Siffrin edits out this conversation so that not even he can remember it.

Amnesia goes far beyond normal forgetfulness. It involves serious memory problems that are not caused by illness or extreme fatigue, by alcohol or other mind-altering substances, or normal forgetting. Amnesia falls on a continuum. People with a dissociative disorder may recall some aspects of an event but not other essential parts of it. In some cases all memory for certain events is unavailable for conscious recall. Some people with a dissociative disorder describe their memory as being like “Swiss cheese holes,” “foggy,” or “full of black holes.” They may suspect that something happened, or may have even been told by others that something happened to them, but have no personal recollection of events and often feel afraid to think about them. People may have amnesia for longer periods of time during which normal life events took place, for example, a person may report being unable to remember anything from the fifth grade, or from ages 9–12. - (Coping With Trauma Related Dissociation - Suzette Boon, Kathy Steele, Onno van der Hart)

Instinctive use of time travel to edit out parts of a conversation that a perspective character does not wish to accept or confront is a fantastic allegory for how dissociative symptoms manifest. When a person or dissociative part stumbles too close to a severe trauma trigger. To speak from personal experience it is a moment where in a conversation a question comes up and the answer feels wrong in your mouth. Like you just lied. But you know you didn't intend to lie... so of course you interrogate the piece of information and the wall of confusion that hits can make a person feel truly powerless. Like you're not even certain of what you are saying anymore and a mixture of shame and fear flood in and tell you to stop talking, stop lying, stop exaggerating, stop speaking, stop, stop, STOP. Poor Siffrin shouldn't have their memory made fun of. But... his friends allies don't know. Do they? How could they? Siffrin doesn't speak up and when he does it tends to be a showy performance of being light hearted and silly so no one can see how hurt he is. Because if he does try to be honest... well. You saw what happened when they tried to open up. Through hard work and persistence the allies loop enough times to gain the knowledge and strength to win against The King. The King's first attack will force the allies to see a vision of the future and without a special magic shield will kill them in a single strike. Siffrin stays determined and prepares his allies. Helps them become stronger. Helps them win. The world is saved. Everyone in Vaugarde is released from the time freezing spell... But something's wrong... Siffrin is given a chance to talk to everyone as they all happily speak about what they'll do now that the country is saved but no matter what happens. Isabeau attempts to confess the thing that he wished to tell Siffrin if they won but is interrupted before he can get the words out, much to Siffrin's annoyance. The world is safe. All is well. It shall return to normal soon enough... only thing to do is speak with the head housemaiden and accept the praise and thanks for all the hard effort in saving Vaugarde... Then world starts to fall apart and... The second act comes to an abrupt close.

Act 3 - Family and Culture

The curtain rises and the play begins continues. The loop begins with Siffrin back at the start, even though the day was saved. Simply killing The King must not be enough. There must be a reason that the loops are continuing, even after Vaugarde is saved. The only way to understand is to find out more about why The King is able to freeze the country in time and if it has anything to do with why Siffrin can loop back. Speaking with Loop, Siffrin recognizes that as long as there are ideas and leads to explore then giving up is not going to happen. Loop seems reluctant to encourage Siffrin to continue, in fact Loop seems doesn't appear surprised by the time loop continuing at all. Loop is an interesting character and deserves an article unto themselves. We should focus on Siffrin right now.

Their first order of business is to attempt the Golden End exit route. It worked for Bill Murray, why not in this situation? Simply work out a way to make everyone have a perfect loop. Saving the world isn't enough. Siffrin can solve everyone's problems. Here we learn that Bonnie, the kid, harbors a deep well of shame for allowing Siffrin to be blinded in an eye while protecting them earlier in the adventure, before the loops. Siffrin, true to their dissociative nature, did not even remember the event. Siffrin also spends quality time with the adults in the party. Always hoping Isabeau would be brave enough to confess this loop. On this journey up the house of change the team are closer and more caring. No one makes fun of Siffrin for bumping into the counter. Siffrin discovers that the other party members have noticed his breathing exercises. Very helpful for those with dissociative disorders, by the way. They ground the body and allow one to ease somatic symptoms by soothing the nervous system and preventing activated sensations worsening symptoms. As they get closer to The King the warm and familial banter continues with Odile using the word 'friend' out loud. A guarded Siffrin allows themselves to confront Odile on saying that they were not friends (something she did not even say this "Golden" loop) and through an awkward but kind conversation she confesses she, a Too Old For This lady cannot feel comfortable calling a group of people with a pre-teen "friends" but she can perhaps call them "Family" The menu updates. Siffrin's Allies are now Sif's Family Members. This remains true in all the menus no matter what happens in any loop. But in this moment, there is a golden ending. There is joy. Though Isabeau is unwilling to discuss his confession when Sif is feeling vulnerable. They need to have a Feely-Feels talk. Sif hates the idea of a Feely-Feels talk. Yet, even still... In this moment Sif is loved.

Many people with Complex PTSD have attachment wounds from their family of origin. The concept of a found family is common among survivors, particularly in those who choose to go Non-Contact with the family of origin. Others, like Sif, have lost their family to tragedy and simply have no roots to return to. The role of a chosen family is vital in the healing journey. Survivors can become aggressively attached to those who they view as chosen family and are often activated by the concept of another loss. The wounds of losing one family enough to have massive impact on how the survivor handles relationships going forward. It is why unstable relationships is listed as a symptom of CPTSD and why there is such a big overlap of CPTSD and BPD diagnosis.

There’s no way around the fact that on the journey to finding your chosen family, you will get hurt. People you thought would be there for you will abandon you, people will decide they no longer have the emotional capacity to hold space for you, and… people who made promises to be by your side will betray those promises. That’s not anyone’s fault. It’s just life. Not everyone belongs on our journeys, but… when you find the right people, don’t let go of them. Nurture the relationships, reciprocate the support, and above all, respect the myriad of ways that people can and will show up for you. - (The Role of ‘Chosen Family' in Trauma Recovery - Monika Sudakov)

Sif is desperately attached to the Family Members that they travel with. In many ways the only reason they can endure the time loops is to protect them. Any time there is a prompt which threatens these relationships Sif's monologue insists that they will not abandon the script that ensures their safety and happiness. Yet despite all this power of love and Family, the loops continue. Which is fine. Golden Ending was a long shot anyway. Clearly it has to be related to The King and it's power to stop time. It seems to know the mysterious art of Time Craft. Talking to The King will help. The answers are still attainable and now Sif has a Family. To get the information required to learn about Time Craft and The King one must interact with as many books and items in the house of change as possible. In doing so we learn more about Sif and their history. By this point in the story the concept of croissants has come up a number of times for the party. In the opening town Sif has the option of buying one from a bakery and gives an uncharacteristic scowl. When they are spotted in the house Sif tends to duck out of conversations, not caring to listen to people talk about the pastry he loathes so desperately. He jokes about it and obfuscates but Sif hates croissants. With a burning passion. There is literally a food that can kill him in the game (he is allergic to pineapple and can die on a banana plantain peel) but his ire always turns towards croissants. Croissants are an emotional trigger for Sif. They harbored such a deep hatred of croissants that when, in Act 4, he is pressured to tell everyone what he wished for at the start of the game he says that they wished for croissants to disappear forever. Sif's reactivated trauma is related to croissants. Up until now he had been living his life blissfully unaware of his dissociated experiences and yet a croissant cracked the amnesia barriers that kept him safe and now each time he sees them they cannot help but be reminded of "The Incident". By examining the Silver coin in their inventory a number of times one can see "The Incident", a moment that happened days before the plot began which informs Sif's entire emotional state throughout the game...

(source: ISAT Script Project) Note the time skip at the tail end of that sequence. Sif was thinking too heavily about the trauma again and skipped time to avoid thinking about it. Dissociative barriers. He literally cannot think about it. The universe won't let him. Sif's home isn't there anymore. In the canon of the game where reality can be rewritten on the whim of a wish, the country that Sif comes from was wiped off of the map and all knowledge and memory of it has been erased, even from those who lived there. Sif's trauma is that he lost his home. His family. Everything and everyone that he ever knew. Through traveling with his family members he has gained a slither of the emotion, comfort, connection and safety that he lost and in being reminded of all that he lost so close to the end of their journey he was reminded he can and will lose it all again and the thought is too terrifying to process. This is the core conflict in Sif's heart for the entire game. The more they interact with memories of the destruction of his homeland the more keenly aware he becomes of the fact that the quest will end and his family will go their separate ways and abandon him. They have no home to return to when this is all done. CPTSD is not currently recognized by the DSM-5. An official diagnostic description can only be found within the ICD-11. On the ICD-11 page for Complex-PTSD there is a specific segment for "Culture Related Features" that reads:

Cultural variation exists in the expression of symptoms of Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. For example, somatic or dissociative symptoms may be more prominent in certain groups attributable to cultural interpretations of the psychological, physiological, and spiritual etiology of these symptoms and of high levels of arousal.

Given the severe, prolonged, or recurrent nature of the traumatic events that precipitate Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, collective suffering and the destruction of social bonds, networks and communities may present as a focal concern or as important related features of the disorder.

For migrant communities, especially refugees or asylum seekers, Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder may be exacerbated by acculturative stressors and the social environment in the host country. - (ICD-11 for Mortality and Morbidity Statistics)

We do not learn much of Sif's culture of origin but we know that they were in tune with The Universe, that they had spiritual aspects that allowed them to use Wish Craft and follow when fate leads. Act 3 is an info gathering quest on The King's motivations and we discover that King and Sif both hail from the same country and have lost all their social bonds, networks and communities and cannot even recreate the specifics of their culture. It has literally been erased. No culprit is ever named for this atrocity but from Act 3 onwards Sif mourns this lack of roots and via the power of the magic that prevents anyone from remembering the country they cannot mention this tragedy to anyone. Though Odile is able to infer it. Odile is also an immigrant to Vaugarde, her mother was from Vaugarde and her father from Ka Bue. Her mother abandoned her and Odile's quest in Vaugarde is to find parts of her history within the foreign land and fill in the parts of her soul that she feels are incomplete from the lack of her mother's presence and history in her life. In Act 3 the two bond over it as part of Odile's "friendquest", in Act 4 and beyond Sif's inner monologue seethes with bitterness and envy for Odile having connections. The initial connection of them both being foreigners in an accepting land caves to the pain of loss that consumes Siffrin whole.

(source: ISAT Script Project) What's worse is that some of the things that the family members joke at Sif about for being too forgetful to know the words "Kiln" "Pottery Wheel" or "Stuffed Animal" (though they do remember on some loops) become less about silly forgetful Sif letting incidental information slide out of their dissociative mind. It becomes making fun of a person speaking a second language and not having complete mastery over it. By Act 5 Sif has no patience for the playful jabs because they happen every single loop and they hurt. Minimizing is a lot harder in a time loop. Every small moment of tiny pain repeats again and again. Every time Sif bumps their hip on a counter the party laugh at him. Well... except for the time he screamed at them for it... or the time he collapsed into a defeated pile on the floor on the verge of tears. Heaven help me if bumping into a counter hasn't been the last straw to break my facade when the weight is too much to carry. Poor Sif... As Sif learns more about Time Craft and the country that both he and The King come from, Sif starts to gain an understanding of The King's motivations. After losing one country he couldn't bear to risk losing another home. Vaugarde was so kind to him and took him in and he wants it to remain perfect and safe forever. Frozen in time like a photograph. Now that Sif has come to recognize how important his Family Members are to him, they understand. To have people you love and consider Family is so important and the idea of losing that is simply unspeakable. It is a fate worse than the time loops. By now Sif has done the Golden Ending a time or two...

He understands why The King would do this. The final loop of Act 3 allows Sif to attempt to convince The King not to fight. The pair have attempted to bond over their roots, they have tried to force The Universe to allow them to speak the name of their nation (but it refused to be said) and now Sif wants to try and use understanding. The King agrees. He stops the fight. Asks Sif to come to his side and... Then he freezes the Family Members in time. He understands now that Sif is using Wish Craft to fight him and he cannot win on traditional terms so he decides to carve it into Sif's memory, a reminder of what happens if he continues defying The King's will. He picks up poor little pre-teen BonBon... and FORCES SIFFRIN TO WATCH AS HE CRU-

Act 4 - Shame Spiral

The curtain rises. The play begins continues. And Sif is not okay. They witnessed the game break the well established rule that the kid was not able to be hurt. Even in runs where you lose to The King Bonnie always gets away. The Family will always go out of their way to ensure The Kid survives. It's happened so many times by now one doesn't even think to question it... And the player had to watch. There is no avoiding that event. Sif will lower their guard to speak with The King and offer compassion and trust to someone they thought of as a kindred spirit and no sooner had they laid down their arms for a moment they were punished for it. Brutally. It's the rock again. Feel safe, even for a moment, and it comes crashing down to crush with full weight... only this time it's not the Sif taking the hit. Sif can take all the hits in the world. It was BONNIE. Someone else was crushed because Sif trusted. From this moment on Sif's intrusive thoughts become louder and meaner. Look above at the conversation with Odile about her roots and notice the changes between Act 3's inner monologue and Act 4's. By this point in the story Sif is losing track of how many loops they have gone through. Unless you keep your Memory of Self equipped you will find that any time you loop forwards or backwards the loop counter will jump up by leaps. Sif is so numb to the cycle by now that they're just dissociating through iterations of the time loop. Other times he 'blacks out' bits of time include sleeping at the clocktower. We learn that he never ever sleeps at the tower. He just blacks out and comes to at the house ready for the next run. All Sif can remember is what the player sees. But stuff does happen besides that which we see. It's not just the amount of time that Sif has been in the loops that is causing this degradation of mental health, though. It's the continuous activation taking a toll. When a person is continiously hyperaroused they become disaffected, chronically dissociated and begin experiencing somatic symptoms. Headache, stomach ache, exhaustion with no ability to sleep, hunger without ability to eat. At this point of the story Sif is constantly hungry and is not sleeping at all. The primary cause for this is the attachment trauma being continuously triggered. Where in early acts it was a matter of worry over losing his new family while being reminded constantly of losing his old one, now he is reminded of allowing his family to die because of his actions. The shame spiral claims him and his emotions become wild, even if he is not able to express them outwardly. This level of emotional sensitivity is a primary symptom of Borderline Personality Disorder. The similarities between CPTSD and BPD are enough that much of the discussion around the potential for including CPTSD in the next revision of the DSM centers around whether it should replace or be combined with BPD. The Foundation for CPTSD writes on the topic:

At one-time, complex post-traumatic stress disorder was proposed as an alternate form of borderline personality disorder because of the shared link to severe childhood trauma. The jury is still out to recognize CPTSD as a diagnosis in the DSM, but it is believed that the symptoms and causes of BPD and CPTSD overlap substantially, but it is not warranted to replace one diagnosis with the other or conceptualize CPTSD as a subtype of BPD. Borderline personality disorder and complex post-traumatic stress disorder are commonly found together, with between 25% and 60% of people living with BPD also having CPTSD. Complex post-traumatic stress disorder is listed in the 11th edition of the International Classification of Diseases (ICD-11), and this has spurred research differentiating the two disorders. Evidence suggests that CPTSD and BPD may represent a continuum of the stress response, and both seem to have a component of dissociation involved. The most significant difference between the two diagnoses is when they form. CPTSD typically forms in early childhood, while BPD forms during early adolescence. Having both CPTSD and BPD makes life difficult, to say the least. - (CPTSD Foundation)

BPD is a personality disorder categorized by attachment wounds. Part of the diagnostic criteria includes "Frantic efforts to avoid abandonment, whether it is accurate or not, by family and friends" It is safe to say Sif feels this way about their family. They lost their entire home, their history, their family of origin. They cannot conceive of losing the family that they have gained. The concept is simply too painful for them to consider and so emotional and dissociative barriers force away anything which could potentially bring the topic of losing them to mind. Heaven knows we can understand the impulse... But since being directly responsible for failing the promise they made to protect Bonnie this is no longer a matter of fear of the unknown, it is shame in having failed to keep a promise to protect. This shame grows and cripples Sif's emotional regulation, leaving them prone to volatile outbursts of their repressed rage. Either forcing it inwards on the self or outwards on others.

When you feel chronic shame, you believe that no amount of punishment or corrective actions would be sufficient, and you are unable to forgive yourself or have any empathy for the terrible suffering shame brings to you. It is as though chronically ashamed people have received a life sentence of shame with no hope of parole, even when they are unsure of exactly why they are bad. In fact, some people will say there is no particular reason they are bad and unworthy: The mere fact that they exist and take up space on the earth is shameful enough. They believe they are not worthy of living and do not deserve anything good. In such cases, shame is an emotion of hiding: The last thing an ashamed person wants is to be open, vulnerable, and seen by others. Thus, it is an emotion that often is not addressed sufficiently in therapy, even though it is a major impediment to healing. - (Coping With Trauma Related Dissociation - Suzette Boon, Kathy Steele, Onno van der Hart)

Act 4 is about learning the origins of the Wish Craft that rewrites the universe and allows for Sif to use Time Craft. We learn that any time they are upset they will instinctively rewrite history to prevent the things that they fear from coming to pass. This includes moments when their anger gets away from them and they lash out at their family. Some optional scenes include forcing Isabeau into a kiss or screaming at Odile when she knows too much and tries to help Siffrin. Any time these outbursts happen time rewinds and only Siffrin is left with the knowledge that they happen, deepening the growing well of shame. All the while Sif feels more hollow in the interactions he has with his Family. In forcing them to be their best selves via the "Friendquest" events every loop he starts feeling like he is manipulating them. Where he felt loved the first few times he now accuses himself of forcing them to love him.

To the degree that our caretakers attack or abandon us for showing vulnerability, to that degree do we later avoid the authentic self-expression that is fundamental to intimacy. The outer critic forms to remind us that everyone else is surely as dangerous as our original caretakers. Subliminal memories of being scorned for seeking our parents’ support then short-circuit our inclinations to share our troubles and ask for help. Even worse, retaliation fantasies can plague us for hours and days on the occasions when we do show our vulnerabilities. I once experienced this after being very honest and vulnerable in a job interview with a committee of eight. Over the next three insomnia-plagued nights, my outer critic ran non-stop films featuring my interviewers’ contempt about everything I had said, and disgust about all that I had left out. Even after they subsequently and enthusiastically hired me, the outer critic plagued me with “imposter syndrome” fantasies of eventually being exposed as incompetent in the new job. - (Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving - Pete Walker)

It doesn't matter. Sif tries everything. Learns all the things that they can learn. Explores all the hidden areas of the house of change. Nothing matters. It's hopeless.

And with each loop The King's attack shows Sif a vision of the future. What do they see? Endless looping or... does Sif see the future beyond the loops? After the party return to their various homes? Act 4 ends with The Head Housemaiden, the only one who could have potentially held answers telling Sif outright that there was no escape... Before the loop begins anew.

Act 5 - Curtains

[Hello there. It's me, Dawn. I'm pausing the essay and dropping the cute little play structure to reiterate the Content Warnings from the start of the post. During Act 5 there are options to commit self-harm that a player may stumble across unintentionally. During previous acts one has to work exceptionally hard and against the game and characters within it to unlock a means of self-harm and it is unambiguously seen as a bad thing. In Act 5 there are no external forces to comment on Siffrin's actions.] The curtain rises. No point in wasting time. Get the actors. Make them strong. Beat the king. Do it right this time. Unfortunately our star has lost all of the mental fortitude they had. They were so strong for so long but there is only so much a person can take before they let the anger win. It is all too common for people with significant trauma to harbor resentment and anger in their soul. It sometimes remains repressed under layers of emotion numbing dissociation, it sometimes turns inwards into self-destructive acts and viewpoints and it sometimes turns outwards into explosive acts of physical or emotional violence. But it's there... lurking within the injustice of all the pain a person has felt.

When you have experienced a trauma, anger often becomes the central emotion that you feel. Angry thoughts about revenge may consume you. According to Enright and Fitzgibbons (2000), your anger is more destructive if you focus it on another person or people; it is intense, even in the short term; it leads to a learned pattern of annoyance, irritation, or frustration with others who are not the source of your anger; it is extremely passive; it is extremely hostile; or it is developmentally appropriate for someone much younger than your actual age (e.g., you act like a two-year-old and have a temper tantrum). - (The PTSD Workbook Mary Beth Williams)

and so... with the 5th act of our play about to begin, the star wakes in a familiar meadow for what may be the hundredth time... and they simply cannot take it anymore.

The actor on stage has reached Rock Bottom and likely unlocked the skill Rock Bottom to go with it, though they are beyond the silly puns now. Rock, Paper, Scissors, Breathe or Heal. Just get to The King. Just kill it. One. Last. Time. The GIF above starts with the line "YOU WANT YOUR FAMILY BACK!!! NOT THE FICTIONAL CHARACTERS THAT HAVE TAKEN THEIR PLACE!!!" Up until now we have only spoken about dissociation in terms of zoning out or blocking out memory. I now want to talk about Derealization and Depersonalization. DPDR has been a subject of other Media, Myself and I essays, most notably our discussion on Night in the Woods. To be brief about it for this essay Depersonalization is a detatchment from one's sense of self and Derealization is a detatchment from reality. Our star has become so disillusioned with the endless looping that they no longer view their surroundings as real. The people in their life are just actors in a play that they are directing. Everyone says their lines. Even the star must say their lines. But there's still some stage direction. Some purpose that our hero must fulfill. They know that there is a chance if they can just kill the king without Mirabelle landing the final shot. Then. Maybe... In their disaffected state and unable to convincingly perform their lines in the play, our star manages to upset everyone else on stage causing them to doubt if it would be safe and productive to continue traveling with such a horrible disgusting unreliable stupid person. This causes the final act to be a solo performance. One final walk through the house without friends allies family actors to help. At the clocktower the other actors talk about our star and are uncertain if they can trust them any longer. Our star reacts by rejecting them entirely and going it alone. There is a concept in BPD called Splitting in which a person devalues or exaggerates the value of an individual in their compromised emotional state. It can cost a person relationships if they act out of these temporary emotions. At the start of Act 5 the actor manages to scream at the kid for getting in danger, calls the fighter a coward and mocks the researcher for her mother abandoning her. The individual, so desperate to shield their wounded heart, pushes the people they love away because their proximity is too close to their open wounds and they push away to maintain space. This is particularly true in those who struggle to create healthy emotional boundaries. This game is such a god damned call out at times. As the actor climbs the house everything is broken. The universe itself is trying to maintain the reality of two wishes that it needs to make a reality. "Save Vaugarde" and the one the main character wished for in Act 1. Do you remember what it was? The Universe cannot allow Siffrin to remain with their Family Members if they run off alone and reject them. The Universe simply cannot accomodate such a reality. Everything is falling apart. What proceeds is the ISAT equivalent of a Genocide Run in Undertale. Everything is broken and wrong. Rooms are breaking the collision boundaries of a video game, textures are cut wrong, doors lead to the wrong location, time is looping without rhyme or reason. And the menu is blunt. You cannot change your equipment, now stuck with Memory of Emptiness with the description (Nothing comes to mind, hahahahaha!) Some rooms contain hallucinations that make our star feel more abandoned and empty and mournful of their situation. In rooms where they would normally receive a modicum of physical comfort brushing against the other actors there is nothing now.

(Aaaaaaah…) (You rub your arms once, twice, thrice.) (Your throat tightens) (You feel like you're floating in your own body.) (If only someone would touch you to make sure you're real! Someone, anyone!)

This is an example of extreme depersonalization. Also the garden has a table with 4 healthy plants and 1 dying plant to the side. Our star notices it and it acts as a visual indicator of the barriers between the director and their actors. Some of the other rooms on the Act 5 climb depict overt self-harm...

It can be understood as a substitute action for more adaptive coping that attempts to deal with a variety of overwhelming problems, many involving too much feeling (for example, loneliness, abandonment, panic, inner conflicts, traumatic memories) or too little feeling (numbness, depersonalization, emptiness, feeling dead). Self-harm is thus often related to the need for regulation skills, that is, finding ways to modulate and tolerate unbearable inner experiences, such as painful emotions, or traumatic memories (Gratz & Walsh, 2009; Miller, 1994). Some people harm themselves in secret and carefully hide the inflicted wounds from others. Other people harm their bodies in places that are visible to people around them. (Coping With Trauma Related Dissociation - Suzette Boon, Kathy Steele, Onno van der Hart)

The shame only increases upon doing these optional (but distressingly unprovoked) actions. Honestly, if I had one criticism of the game and its depiction of mental health it is that there is no way to know that looking at the cupboard with the eye patch conversation would cause a self-destructive action. As someone with extreme sensitivity to depictions of suicide and self-harm I felt that having no agency or warning over that (I had no reason to assume this would happen. Any other form of self-harm requires selecting a menu option. This one jumps out at a player unexpected) was... unfair. It is noted in monologue that breathing exercises no longer work by this point of the narrative and due to not being at the clocktower our star is proceeding with no food and no sleep. Their already bottomed out mental and emotional state is in sore need of external intervention. Something the actor both desires and rejects in equal measure. Upon finding and fighting The King our hero is frozen in time and locked in a dream. Placed face to face with their worst fears and worries of how their actors Family would perceive them.

(source: ISAT Script Project)

After the screen stops being blurry and the player wipes the wet spots off of their Nintendo Switch. The fear of being perceived. The fear of being seen as manipulative. Being seen as insincere. Being seen as lazy or too afraid to change. Callous. Aimless. Manipulative. So many survivors have these negative scripts and inner critics. Caught in their cycles. Their own little loops. But there's still hope. Family. The chance to be vulnerable. The game concludes with Sif's Family saving him from The King. But even though The King's spell is broken and the people of Vaugarde are unfrozen the sky has a giant red crack in it. Sif's wish is still tearing the world apart. Realizing that when the quest is over everyone will go home Sif has their temper tantrum, becoming the final boss in which every move is a choice to either lash out at the party or lash out at themselves. A boss mechanic version of the final embers of a violent extinction burst. That is to say a person who does not have control over their ability to maintain a sustained behavior will lash out and attempt to assert control in order to prevent losing the conditioned routine.

An extinction burst is characterized by a temporary increase in the frequency, intensity, or duration of behavior being extinguished through operant conditioning. This phenomenon occurs when the reinforcement for a previously learned behavior is removed, leading to an initial escalation of the behavior before it decreases and eventually ceases. While not all instances of extinction involve such bursts, they are observed in some cases, particularly during the treatment of problematic behaviors. Extinction bursts can complicate the treatment of behavioral disorders, as they may temporarily increase undesired behaviors like aggression or self-injury, making it challenging to assess the effectiveness of interventions. (*)

In this case Sif is lashing out because he has no way of preventing his Family from going back to their lives. It's a destructive and unhealthy mechanism. The fight ends with everyone refusing to let Sif run away or hide anymore. He is forced to admit that his wish was to stay with everyone. That he didn't want the family to go away. He opens himself up to the vulnerability of being seen of being understood and yes, even potentially rejected. The Family agree to travel together at least long enough to get Bonnie back to their sister. But there are no guarantees what happens beyond there. There is love. There is acceptance. There is honesty. There are no more time loops. Maybe now, finally... there can be change. Growth. Tomorrow.

In time loop fiction everything eventually loses meaning. There are no permanent consequences, no external pressures, nothing inherent to strive for, no meaning but what the protagonist(s) give themselves. The option to just accept things and remain is always there as Andy Samberg's character in Palm Springs does. The option to never stop trying to escape is there for those like Keiji in All You Need Is Kill.

The brilliance of In Stars and Time is that there are two wishes that are influencing the universe. The wish of the people to save Vaugarde from being frozen in time and Siffrin's wish to remain with his family. Change and Stagnation. That's what it always comes down to in these time loop stories and the conflict in this game is that those two forces are playing against one another. The only outcome was to give up on one or the other. As we'll learn in Act 6 there is no reality where Siffrin gets to stay with all 4 party members. They will have to separate at some point. Accepting change is accepting that things can and will and do end and life will go on and you have to be okay with it. Many of our essays have focused on representation that includes a healing journey from Ange Ushiromiya accepting the circumstances of her tragic past to Elliot Alderson's 4 season long representation of trauma therapy for dissociative clients. I think the thing I love about In Stars and Time is that it's the long and arduous process of a chronically traumatized individual asking for help. It's the first step on the healing journey. Acceptance. Siffrin spent the entire game in denial and rejection, making jokes and pushing things aside. Our long and hard journey was just getting to the point where they were able to recognize and admit it. And I really hope that Sif and their family members will be okay. I wished on my leaf for Sif to see Ka Bue with Odile. I hope they get to go. But as insertdisc5 says when asking any questions about what happens next "it's your turn" -

Stars that was a long one. Thank you for sticking with me if you read the whole thing. We like to write these essays as a matter of helping our study on dissociation (we, ourselves, are a DID patient and reading and comprehending this material is essential to our recovery and treatment) and providing a little insight to bits of media that are positive examples of what we go through. If you enjoyed always feel free to leave an ask or leave some silly tags. I never care if I get a flop post as writing is its own reward but the encouragement is good for my ego <3

Special thanks to @insertdisc5 for answering when I reached out for comment on the writing of this essay. The reply was helpful and encouraged us to take our time and write this with extra care. (In Stars and Time can be found on Steam, Itch, GOG, Nintendo Store and Playstation Store. The Prologue Game can be found on Steam and the Start Again comic on insertdisc5’s website) Media, Myself and I is a series of Tumblr Essays for positive depictions of dissociative disorders. Other essays include: A History of Murder Alters Discworld and Plurality Incidental, intentional and accidental representation Gender, Dissociation and Clinical Stigma in The Third Person Recontextualized Memories in Umineko Derealization in Night in the Woods and Metal Gear Solid The Dangers of Hypnotic Personality Play in Penlight System Origins in The Incredible Hulk Relationships with Systems in The Incredible Hulk The Healing Journey in Mr. Robot

...wait... what happened to Act 6?

I did say Loop deserved their own essay, didn't I?

[darklordofthesimp]

Anything VII (König x Reader)

The 7th instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - 7 - Part 8

Like the characters? Read their fics below!

Sunshine Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary:  A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: I’ve already got the next chapter mapped out hee hee

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Unrequited Pining || Tension

Warning: Graphic Language

You’d barely slept, how could you?

Though you supposed that you should have been used to broken rest, this time it wasn’t for the usual reasons. There were no nightmares that clawed at your mind, no anger that made you sweat- but, there was paranoia. 

There was crippling anxiety that had you wanting to hide beneath the covers, there was fear that gripped you by the throat. The sensation of being stunned was overwhelming, your thoughts were scattered and your world was tipped upside down.

Everything that you believed, everything that you had come to terms with, it was all a lie. 

You risked a glance at the clock, groaning as you realised that you’d have to get up. It was a mission, more so than usual. Dragging your sorry ass from the safety of your sheets was proving difficult, but the knowledge that you’d have to go train with König made it all the more impossible. 

You took a deep breath in as you pulled your top over your head. It was different now, the lines were blurred and König might not be the enemy that you imagined him to be. If there was anyone that was going to help you unravel this with the same urgency that you felt, it was going to be him. 

He’d do anything to prove himself, anything to stay as a sniper.

He wanted to keep the life he’d stolen from you. 

Your stomach turned at the thought, the words weren’t sitting as right as they used to. The anger that occupied your chest with relentless heat has begun to cool as of late. If König was truly misinformed, it would mean that he really was just trying to do his job. 

It meant that he was paying the consequences for someone else's misdeeds. 

It meant that he was also a victim. 

A chill ran down your spine and the fire in your chest reignited. Maybe he was a victim, but he sure as fuck didn’t look like one- he didn’t look like you. 

You groaned as you stepped through your broken doorway, the reminder of how unhinged König could truly be was unwelcome as always. You thought that the Austrian kicking the door down would terrify you, it told you that you were never safe no matter where you locked yourself up. Instead, the fact that he’d done it to ensure your safety confused you. 

You mulled over it as you walked towards the gym, mindlessly stepping one foot in front of the other. 

A couple of minutes spent trying to decipher how you felt towards König felt like hours, any small bead of energy expended suddenly blew out to exhaustion. The man was an enigma who left you stranded in your own thoughts, flailing to find land.

“Good morning, Birdy.” 

You forced yourself not to flinch away from König’s voice as you stood deathly still in the doorway. The man offered you a small wave from inside the gym, his arm stretched over his head as he loosened his muscles. 

You didn’t want to gawk at him, honestly. It was just kind of hard not to. 

He was larger than life, something that would never fail to amaze you. The sheer size of him was one thing, but his presence took up the rest of the space in the room. The breath in your lungs dissipated into nothing as you took in his visage. 

“Good morning, König,” you managed to say softly. 

You both froze for a moment, the gentle return of his greeting had caught the pair of you off guard. You supposed that there had been a shift between the two of you over the past few weeks. 

But the way you felt about the man before you gave you whiplash.

Torn between hatred, fear, familiarity and comfort, you wished you could just chalk him down to a psychotic beast that wished you harm. 

But he wasn’t and he didn’t. 

The path your mind had begun to wander reminded you of the revelation you’d come to. 

König cleared his throat, slowly standing upright as if he didn’t want to shatter the fragile friendliness between you both. Finally, you stepped into the room, one heavy foot after the other and your heart in your throat. You wanted to break the silence between you before that unnamed tension could grow, feeding on the quiet and everything that went unsaid. 

“What did you have planned today?” You questioned with a raised brow, “anything torturous and terrifying?” 

The Austrian snorted softly through his nose, crossing his arms over his chest. The slight smirk that pulled his lips upward had your breath catching in your throat. He cast his eyes downward before flicking that jade gaze back up to meet yours.  

“Isn’t everything I do “torturous” and “terrifying” according to you?” König said, the playful tone was obvious but tentative.

You took a deep breath. He wasn’t diminishing the incident, he was finding some semblance of humour between the both of you. You swallowed the small drops of rage that threatened to open the floodgates. 

“No,” you said, pushing your hands into the pockets of your hoodie. “That’s just you, I meant the training this time.” 

You watched the shift in König’s features, the way his shoulders relaxed and his eyes softened. The olive branch had been extended, received and the see-saw of emotions between you had finally tipped to fall on the opposite end. 

“Well,” König offered a small smile, “I promise that the training today will not be as scary as I am.” 

You tried to ignore the genuine relief that flooded through your chest, tried to maintain the easy-going air that had settled in the space between you. Despite your best efforts, anxiety threaded itself across your throat as you stepped closer to the looming figure before you. 

König slowly uncrossed his arms, sensing the shift in your attitude. It seemed like he always knew, even when you said nothing and your face didn’t change, he knew. Sometimes it irked you, but at times like these when he could read you and adjust, you appreciated it. 

“I promise,” he reiterated, that jade gaze as soft as ever. 

You took in a shaky breath, then released. “Okay.”

“Okay?” König repeated, taking a step toward you. 

“Okay.” 

And right there and then was the first time you’d seen him smile. 

It was brief, barely a flash of his teeth as he quickly regained control of himself, but it was enough. You knew that you’d never be able to dispel that image from your mind, you knew that you’d be thinking about it as you went through the never ending cycle of wondering whether you hated him or not. 

You knew that you’d want to see it again. 

A shiver ran along the length of your spine and an unfamiliar heat spread across your neck. You cleared your throat in an attempt to clear your thoughts. It might have been unsuccessful in that regard but it did get König to step into action.

“Right,” he said with a sigh, scanning the space around him. “The sooner we get started the sooner you can escape the torture.” 

Now it was your turn to snort as you took your sneakers off. “If only it were that easy.” 

König rolled his eyes, approaching you with slow and lazy steps that had your heart racing. You straightened up, letting him move closer until he was barely a breath away. The moment that you had both shared in the kitchen raced across your mind, the scene beginning to look dangerously similar- hopefully Graves wouldn’t appear around the corner to trigger your fight or flight reflex this time.  

“Can I help you?” You managed to choke out, dropping your gaze from his. 

“Uh, no.” There was mirth in his voice. The man took a step backward, his hands raised with his palms facing outward. “Are you not ready?” 

You tried to not look at the size of his fingers, you tried not to remember how they felt wrapped around your throat. 

“Ready?” You stammered. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact, frozen as you stared at those fucking hands. They’d done so much damage, so much. 

You tried not to remember. 

Saint had always told you to replace a negative interaction with a positive interaction whenever you’d begun to spiral. When you remembered how hard his eyes had been when you'd been on that roof, you tried to remember how soft they were when he spoke to you now. 

Your mind fell back to the moment in the kitchen. 

“I’m ready.” You nodded, taking in a deep breath as he moved in close again. The scent of him flooded your senses, the faint recollection of his deodorant, something sweet and woodsy. 

Those hands slowly lowered and you watched as they fell to rest on your forearms. 

You remembered them holding you down, pinning you to the concrete as the weight of him pressed into your stomach. But, you also remembered those same fingers holding you ever so softly as he inspected you for burns. 

You let loose a soft breath, forcing your gaze upward. He was already watching your face, his eyes scanning your features for any sign of serious distress. 

“Well,” König murmured, his words tasting of the caramel latte he’d been sipping on earlier. “You going to take me down or not, kleine vogel?” 

You raised a brow, “you don’t need to cuss me out, I’m getting there.” 

The man frowned for a short moment, mouth opening and closing as he fought to find the appropriate response. “I did not swear at you?” 

The sentence was more of a question than a statement and while he was stuck in his confusion, you saw opportunity. 

You swung your hands around the grip that he had on your forearms, digging your fingers into his skin instead. You dragged him towards you with a sudden jerk that took every ounce of strength that you had. 

For a moment, you were worried that the giant wouldn’t budge. However, his whole body fell forward as you dropped onto your back with him above you. Both your feet came up to rest on his pelvic bone, bracing as the entirety of his weight fell onto your legs. The momentum was your best friend with this movement, pulling his hands to your chest as you kicked him over your head. 

The sound of 300 pounds hitting the ground hard behind you had your heart soaring. Adrenaline was pumping through your system, propelling you to your feet as you spun to mount your victim. 

König’s face was contorted, teeth bared as he gritted them hard. His hands were above his shoulders, fists clenched and you could tell that you’d stunned him. 

Satisfaction flooded your being. 

You scrambled up the length of his body, pressing your weight onto him as you clenched your knees hard onto either side of his hips. Your hands came down to push against his wrists, pinning his body as best as you could. 

The silence between you both was only broken by the sounds of panting. König’s chest heaved beneath, shallow and quick breaths as his eyes slowly fluttered open to glare up at you. 

“That was rude,” he groaned. “Smart. But rude.” 

“Yeah, well,” you replied with a shrug, taking a moment to try and wet the dryness in your throat. “Fights are often unfair.” 

König’s eyes narrowed for a moment before conceding your point. “Yes. Yes, they are.” 

You’d seen the signs too late, the way his lips quirked upward before he ripped his hands from yours. You’d felt his fingers grip your waist but you were unable to react before the world tipped from beneath you. The floor met your back hard enough to banish the air from your chest and your body froze as you were spun right back into the disadvantage. 

A gasp ripped from your throat, eyes wide as you stared at the man now above you. His hair fell across his forehead, resting atop his lashes as he watched you through a hooded gaze. Neither of you said a word and you didn’t bother trying to fight him off. König made a show of slowly moving to grip your biceps, your fingers scrabbling uselessly against his forearms as he pressed you into the ground.

His body was tucked between your thighs, spreading your legs far enough apart that they were rendered useless from beneath him. You swallowed hard, struggling to catch your breath. 

“Very unfair,” he confirmed with a husky murmur. 

“It’s always unfair with you,” you rasped, your fingers gripping his skin tightly. “Always, König.”

König’s face fell, any trace of satisfaction turning into something akin to sorrow. He cast his gaze aside. 

“Perhaps,” he said. “ But, perhaps if you were prepared it wouldn’t have been so unfair.” 

You watched him carefully. 

“Wrong place, wrong time.” You whispered. 

König met your gaze again, observing you for a long moment before offering a hesitant nod. “Yes.” 

Maybe, this was your chance. This was the opportunity to talk to him about what you suspected, to hear his side of the story entirely. Maybe, if you could sift through the discrepancies between your stories and what his chain-of-command had told him, you could both unravel the mystery. 

Either someone was trying to kill you and used him as the weapon to do so or something bigger was at play. 

Maybe, both? 

“Speaking of,” you began shakily, your fingers nervously tapping against his skin. There was no real way to gently ease into the topic, you’d just have to drop the bomb. “Do you think that maybe the whole incident was a little too… convenient?” 

König fell completely still, his eyes baring into yours. 

You supposed that maybe you could have been a little more tactful. 

You swallowed nervously when his chest didn’t move to breathe, he was as still as a sniper watching for their target. He reminded you of a snake lying in wait, preparing to strike out at any given moment. Suddenly, you didn’t feel so confident that he was the one that you should have spoken to about it. 

The man said nothing and you’d begun to realise that he didn’t plan to. 

“I just mean that,” you scrambled for words, anxiety clawing at your throat when he only stared. “I just mean that maybe it wasn’t just an accident or a miscommunication, maybe they were using you as a way to get what they want.” 

König’s face didn’t change when he spoke. “And what would that be?” 

You hated how perfectly still he was. 

“To take me out.” You could barely spit out the sentence.

The mans grip tightened against your arms and the small amount of trust that you’d built between each other teetered on the edge of a proverbial cliff. Adrenaline dumped into your system when he took in a deep breath, clenching his jaw. His eyes never left yours, holding you captive not just physically but mentally. You were scrambling for air. 

“I think that you are overthinking,” he finally said, relaxing his grip and releasing the tension from his lungs. 

Your heart dropped. 

Overthinking? 

Why wouldn’t he want to investigate this further? It would exonerate him, it would relieve him of the guilt, it would make him innocent. 

“What?” You rasped, blinking as though it would clear your confusion. “How can you say that?” 

“Easily,” König said, sitting up. His demeanour was suddenly so cold. He let go of your arms, shooting you one last look before he attempted to stand up. “You’ve been through a traumatic event. Overthinking is normal.” 

Desperation clawed at your chest. Before you could stop yourself, you reached upward to snatch his hands. König’s fingers interlocked with yours and his eyes widened when you pulled him back toward you. Your hands were trapped between his and the floor once more, his face only a breath away. 

But you couldn’t even think about the proximity and, for once, you didn’t even care. 

How could he just dismiss you like that? 

How could he just try to leave without even hearing you out? 

“König,” you whispered pleadingly. “Please, just listen.” 

The man shook his head immediately, trying to pull his hands from your grip. You held on as tight as you can manage, his name falling from your lips over and over as you begged him to stay. You needed him to hear it, you needed him to help you. 

“Let go, Birdy,” his voice was firmer than you’d heard in months, the sound of it a shock to your system. How the tables had turned, this time you were not the one trying to escape. Regardless, you disobeyed, only tightening your hold on him. 

“Just tell me what happened, maybe we can work it out,” the words sounded desperate, even to you. You sounded like a lover pleading for a second chance to make the relationship work. You sounded like you were holding to your last tether of sanity. You sounded crazy. 

König’s face was hard when he tugged back again. “We already know what happened, Birdy.” 

“Listen to me-” 

“Let it go, Birdy.” 

“But if you just-” 

“Enough!” 

You recoiled, flinching as he yanked his hands from yours, breaking your grip as easily as tearing a cobweb. König’s fingers wrapped around your biceps, pushing you back against the floor, restraining you from getting a steady hold on him.

The man leaned down, jade eyes alight with something you’d never seen. He burned, the thunderous expression painted across his features warned you that his blood was simmering beneath his skin. 

“Enough,” König seethed, his voice dangerously quiet. 

Fear trickled down your spine. 

Your heart dropped. 

As you watched the Austrian soldier lean over you with a ferocity that rivalled that godforsaken night, you realised that in your desperation you had been so stupid. So, so, so fucking stupid. 

König wasn’t going to help you. 

König was in on it.

[imaginesmai]

Promises to keep - Azriel

You've been happy for too long here is your daily dosis of angst. Part two already written and will be posted in a few days!

Plot: while you are held in a rotten cell, Azriel asks you to promise him something you can't. Because no matter how much he wishes it wasn't true, there was little you wouldn't do for your mate.

Warnings: blood and violence. Kind of graphic.

Azriel had stopped counting the days, the hours stuck on that cell. He had given up around the second week, when he realized losing mental strength over the time wasn’t worthy. Now, the only time keeping him partly sane was the constant drip of water from the corner of the room. When the thoughts were too overwhelming, when the pain wouldn’t let him breath, he focused on the steady drip and tried to drift away.

The cell was cold, almost icy. The clothes he had been wearing when they took him weren’t warm enough – and yet he had given away his jacket, claiming he was fine as he tried to control the chills that rocked his body. It now laid over your body, tucked close to his chest.

It had taken him two days to convince you to take it, and only when you shivered so hard it wouldn’t let any of you sleep, you did.

“Don’t take it off” he begged you when they took him away. “Keep yourself safe”

It had worked so far, because Azriel put enough of a fuss when they approached you that they decided to punish him instead. Other times, it didn’t work, and the jacket came back stained with your blood when they threw you back in.

He felt the first tear of many roll down his cheek, matching the drip of the corner. He tried to keep his body still, not to let you know that he was breaking down again.

But as always, you turned in his arms and caught the tear with the tip of your raw finger. Azriel looked down to your bruised face, that hadn’t healed yet, and his throat constricted around a cry. The soft touch against his own bruises and cuts felt underserving.

“Hey” you whispered, breaking the sinister silence of the cell. Straightening against his hold, you turned so you could face him and held back the groan of pain. “We agreed there would be no tears”

“I know”

It was a silly promise, one neither of you had kept so far.

“I’m okay” you tried to convince him, but your voice was tired, and he knew. “Don’t waste your energy worrying. I’m fine”

“Y/N”

His voice was broken, just like his body. He had always been the strong one, the person who held his ground against torture and pain, who inflicted torture and pain. But with you there, with the life of his mate in the line, he crumbled like a paper boat against the water. Azriel had managed to keep it together for the first two weeks – by the time he stopped counting the time, he had broken down in the night.

If your captors would tell you what they wanted, if they made demands, Azriel knew it would be over for him the moment they put a hand on you. But they hadn’t so far – and that was the worst part. Not knowing what they wanted or why they took you, not being able to consider if the information they wanted was dangerous enough to risk your safeties. He knew he would give them anything by that point.

“They will be coming for us” you repeated like a mantra, over and over again.

Azriel didn’t doubt Rhysand and Cassian were shaking the word to find you, he just doubted they would be able to.

“I need you to promise to never do that again” he started, thinking about the previous hours. “Never, Y/N”

“You know I can’t, baby” the corner of your mouth lifted sadly. “You would have done the same”

“It doesn’t matter. You can’t –“ he choked out, the urge of making you understand seeping through his words and body.

“Can’t protect you like you protect me? That’s what you want me to promise?” you cut him off. “To promise you to stay still while they drag you away once more, with those terrible promises?”

“Yes” he hissed, feeling anger, guilt and many other feelings he couldn’t talk about in his chest. “I can handle it. You being hurt? That I can’t do. And they know they can get anything out of me with it. So next time they barge in, please Y/N, please, just… don’t”

“I could ask you the same thing. Would you promise me that, hm?”

That morning, or what Azriel could guess was morning based on the meals they brought, the masked fae had opened the cell before you woke up. Azriel had brushed the sleep fast when he saw them, asking the same questions he had repeated many times before. Who were they, what did they want, where were you, why did they take you. He made demands too, repeated so many times he had learned them by heart. To let you go, to keep him so he could be useful, to have a blanket and more food.

Only silence followed them, and the realization of what they were about to do.

His inner demons, the crumbling fear of his past, had stilled him enough time for you to wake up and come to the same realization. A tall woman carried oil and matches, and a sickening smile on her face. Another fae laughed behind her, deep and masculine, when he saw his face. Before Azriel could finish processing what was happening, you copied his actions from the past. Jumped on the woman who carried the oil, assuring Azriel wouldn’t be the one taken that day.

And no matter how much he had screamed his throat raw, how many fingers he had broken trying to break through the bars, he couldn’t stop it. He would damn those seconds of panic and tightness the rest of his life.

For any answer, Azriel gripped softly your elbow, careful of not moving your burnt hand. The pink skin was raw, the first blisters breaking through.

“I would have preferred them to burn me alive” he confessed, staring at your hands.

“This is not your fault. Any of it”

“Feels a lot like it is” he scoffed, not lifting his eyes. “You need to promise me that. I can’t – if they, if it happens again…”

“Baby, look at me” you begged him, but he didn’t concede. “Az”

Nicknames rolled down your tongue easily, like they had always done. Something about you calling him baby warmed his heart each and every time, the way his name tasted so good on your lips. Azriel squeezed his eyes shut tightly, his face contouring in sorrow. They had broken his leg, pierced his wings, beaten him senseless. Still, the sight of your burnt hands, knowing the similarities with his own, was what broke him.

“I’m sorry” he cried out, shoulders shaking with sobs. “I’m so sorry”

You didn’t answer, only fell against his chest and let him hug you.

The flames licking up your skin hours ago didn’t feel half as bad as hearing Azriel sob. You contained down your own tears, days of torment seeming endless. You were scared, too, mostly for Azriel. Because, since you both had woken up in that cell, he had taken every possible beating and lashing so that they wouldn’t touch you. And you noticed, smelt, the blood on him when he was brought back. Feared the day he wouldn’t wake up.

The faebane in the food you were fed kept the shadows away, but some of his power was still available and circled your ankles. The panic and guilt he felt was palpable through the watered bond, and in the way he pressed against your bruises without noticing.

“We will make it out” you promised him that, or tried to. “They will come. I know”

He only cried in response. Azriel, your tough, brave mate who tortured people for a living, broke in a dark cell that night. He sobbed until his throat was raw and couldn’t mutter any more apologies, cradled your burned hands as if they pained him more than you. He let his broken wings cover you both until you could pretend you were back in Velaris, in your wide bed, hiding from the world.

Dinner was pushed through the bars and you didn’t miss how Azriel held you tighter, even if he knew they wouldn’t come back until the next day.

“Please” he begged once more. “Please, don’t do that again”

The moment you had seen the oil, had guessed their intentions, you were done for. You would have gladly let them burn your whole arms if that meant they would leave Azriel alone. It had hurt, and you didn’t want to think about it, but Azriel was barely hanging by a thread and you would do anything to keep that thread hanging.

When, a few hours later, the cell opened again, you both turned your heads to meet the only male who talked out of your captors. He was tall, ridiculously tall, thin and with long arms that hung loosely. He wasn’t threatening at all, at least he didn’t seem like it. But you intuitively cowered against his presence, and Azriel intuitively hugged you closer.

His onyx eyes were deep pools of nothing, of wisdom and age that had you doubting Rhysand or Cassian would find you. They moved between Azriel and you, earning a growl from the earnest. If he could, you knew he would get up and fight him. Would try, like many other times, to fight his way out. But there was a reason why he had begged you to stay put, why they had the chance to take you.

Azriel’s left shoulder was broken, his arm only twitching and covered in blood. His wings had been ripped to shreds and were healing too slowly. And his legs, sprawled on the ground, had been twisted and sprained too many times.

“You’re losing your charm” he commented, his lip curling in disgust at the sight of Azriel. “I was tempted to think you would be dead by now. One of you”

“Why don’t you come closer and try to kill me yourself?” Azriel hissed, his good arm curled possessively around your waist.

“Oh, I wouldn’t. My friends are doing a mighty job at that”

“And who are your friends?”

It was a common question. When the male had first appeared in the cell, Azriel had bombarded him with questions that had been ignored. But that day, the male looked between you and Azriel, and tilted his head.

“Let’s trade answers, shadowsinger. I will answer your questions as long as you answer mine” he rocked slightly on his feet, the only indication he was curious. “Where does that power come from? What makes you worthy of wielding it?”

“Mine first. Who are you?”

Azriel had been conscious for a long time, considering the things he had gone through. Normally, he lasted conscious enough for you to try and clean his wounds and for him to promise that he was fine. Then, maybe giving his body a day to rest had accelerated his healing process. Still, you felt his attention rapt and alert as the male considered answering or not.

It felt wrong. He could easily pry the answers out of him. Azriel himself had sworn to answer and give anything when you were in their hands. And still, he only pursed his lips.

“I hope you are smart enough to understand that I cannot give you my true name” he smiled apologetically, as if he was truly capable of feeling anything. “But to answer your question, I could say I am someone interested in your powers. Where does it come from?”

“If you want me to talk, you better give me a real answer” Azriel cut back. “You’ve burned my mate’s hands. Beaten her, cut her. Why”

“Because it is funny what love can make out of powerful people” the male looked at you without dropping his smile. “You are powerful enough to kill any of those fae. To break down this place and destroy it from the inside out. But knowing your mate is here too? Love can undermine so much power. May I?”

Azriel’s grunt of pain almost developed in a scream of pain when he stepped on his broken knee. Blood seeped on the ground and bones creaked under his weight. Still, Azriel only threw his head back and bit down his agony, not willing to move away and expose you any further.

The edge of his boot pressed farther on his wound. Proof of how badly hurt Azriel was, was the lack of movement of his foot. His leg had been so brutalized that he couldn’t even move it to step away from danger.

Your heart rose to your throat and you broke another promise you had made to Azriel the first time you woke up in that cell. Don’t show them. Promise me you won’t show them. Let them think I’m the strong one, I’m the one they can’t break. Promise me, darling.

When Azriel lost his breath and his chest stilled from pain, you couldn’t control the sudden urge of power that broke through the room. Without moving from his grasp, that was now painful against your waist, you filled that room with light and threw the man off your mate.

His back hit the wall with a sickening crunch, and if he had been human just like his smell suggested, he would have died. But he didn’t.

He only looked at you with bloody tears on his eyes and dark stains on his ears.

“Oh my! Oh, how wonderful!” the male chuckled. Laughed. His chest trembled with joy as his broken body stared at you from the other side of the room.

You realized that he had been talking about you. About your power, that you had thought was well hidden. You didn’t bother stopping to think how pointless the torments Azriel had endured for its sake had been then, knowing that thought would haunt you back.  

Not using your burned hands for support, you raised by Azriel’s side. The faebane wasn’t enough to keep it hidden, since it wasn’t from this world. It only dulled your senses and dimmed the mate bond. But now that it had been set free, your power roared at you to let it go. To wrack that place to ashes and kill them all.

You stopped yourself when you got on your feet. Azriel, still out of breath, gripped your calf and looked up at you with terror. He knew what they had done to your parents, what they did to your kind. Why you were the only one left, and how precious you were to them. All of that paled in comparison of you being his mate.

You could havoc that place, but your power was destructive enough to risk his life. And that made the light of the room dim.

“You’re – you’re wonderful. I had heard rumors, but this! Look at this!” the man kept talking, but you could only look at Azriel. He begged you silently to run, to use that opportunity to flee. “We’re going to be amazing friends, my darling. The best of friends!”

“Sir?”

Standing next to the open door, three pair of eyes stared at you. Your tormenters looked between the remains of light at the tips of your burnt fingers and their fallen master, who wouldn’t stop smiling. Panic rose like bile when you realized what you had done. What he had done to make you do it.

You had only agreed to Azriel sacrificing himself because you knew if they discovered your powers and how much you cared about him, it would be worse. The sudden burst of power had left you dizzy, yet you were aware enough to notice that the male was healing way too fast. Way too powerful for a normal fae.

He pointed at you with a bloody smile, the onyx on his eyes not leaving any white left.

“Seize her”

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Let me know if you want me to do an Azriel taglist!

[lostwarllock]

Incoherent screeching off in the distance—

below the cut is my rambling list of comparisons between sokeefe and merthur in an attempt to explain my otherworldly love for both ships to myself

Tag list:

@thatrandomlemononyourcounter1

@aspenaspenaspenaspenaspen

@cosmxc-ars3hol3

Sokeefe and merthur

Foster and Merlin:

—very powerful, have stronger abilities than those like them

—born into a destiny/role (that places an unbelievably heavy burden on their shoulders and impacts every choice they make) that correlates with their abilities

—do not/did not know their biological father

—have at least two father figures

—almost die on a daily basis

—sometimes choose to be selfish, when it comes to the one they care about, even though it may oppose their beliefs of their role

—struggle with authority figures

—tendency to suddenly run out of the room without explaining anything to anyone

—confide in their soulmate in an attempt to convince their soulmate to confide in them

—have a mentor that doesn’t really help, just presents impossible decisions that put their lives at risk but fulfill their role

—a best friend that kissed them

—in love with a blonde (lots of banter all around, but has many serious moments and conversations)

—would literally do ANYTHING for their blonde

—black cat energy

—no matter how much planning and precautions they take, or using their abilities, someone close to them manages to get hurt or die

—adopted by someone very protective, but who eventually understands that some dangers are necessary for their destiny

—at some point temporarily lost their powers

—basically immortal since they live indefinitely

—go into dangerous situations because “they have to” and it’s up to them to solve everything

—know how to keep a secret for over a decade

—the sibling of someone they are close to is evil

—fell in horse poop

—ridden a magical flying creature

—eyes that are recognizable

—in serious need of a good night’s sleep

—came from relatively poor places and moved to basically a castle

—had to leave their previous home due to their abilities

—has caused a few explosions

—known by a special name that corresponds to their powers and destiny

—left a mother back home

—generally a tired/serious/lighthearted personality but also have the incredible ability to be the sassiest being on earth and not care what an authority figure would think

—have a group of friends who try so hard to die with them/for them

—so so loving and loyal that it hurts them

—gold in their eyes

—dress pretty plain

—were treated as different/an outcast in their original home

—has committed all the felonies

—their best friend is treated poorly because of their status

—very good at escaping/sneaking around, but NOT at lying

—are the reason that a very rare magical creature could be born

—constantly worked to the bone

—have like a brown haired person but it ended up not working out

—traumatic things have happened by bodies of water

—get endlessly bullied/teased by their blonde soulmate

—never ending worry for the safety of their soulmate

—have the uncanny ability to reassure their blonde that they aren’t a horrible person through the power of their pep talks

—take any chance to disapprove of the blonde’s parent

—forehead touch their blonde soulmate after a earth-shattering moment that has been built up to for the whole series

—drink poison/something that could kill them with their blonde in the general vicinity

—started out pretty happy and young, to a point years later where they make more depressing, dangerous choices due to their rapidly decreasing amount of hope in the world

—is incredibly devastated that their blonde has to go through an inevitable, painful experience as part of their destiny, and does everything to stop it, but fails

—they wait for them to wake up

Keefe and Arthur:

—blonde (and beautiful blue eyes)

—has worn a crown on their head and sat in a throne because of their parent

—parent raises them to play a certain role, though continually states they are not ready for it, and they must learn to make the hard decisions in order to be truly prepared

—incredibly self-sacrificing and has to play the hero because somehow they think everything is their fault and it’s their responsibility to fix it, even if it was the fault of their parent

—under the false impression that they are needed to protect their soulmate who is actually doing all the protecting

—their parent went through some sort of treatment in order to have them

—their parent has murdered a few times at least

—grew up with very little love and affection from their tyrannical/oppressive parent, but it was to “make them strong” and prepare them for their role

—their father, specifically, has a cold, stony exterior but claims he loves them in a convoluted way no one could understand

—confide in their soulmate and show their true worries and fears that they would never tell anyone else

—their natural beauty makes everyone fall in love with them

—trained in order to defeat their enemies

—their father married someone akin to a troll

—had a sibling figure who turned out evil

—very emotionally aware/deep but only reveal it at certain times, so they cover it up with a confident, teasing appearance

—also almost die on a daily basis, usually in the company of their soulmate

—believes their soulmate is incredibly brave, maybe even the bravest person they’ve ever met

—will go against their parent because they know what it right

—think their soulmate is mysterious and hiding something

—show their affection for their soulmate through touch and meaningful looks

—their soulmate is very protective of them but they don’t think it’s necessary

—thought their parent was dead, but woohoo, they came back to haunt you (one literally, the other figuratively)

—they find so much joy in making the life of their soulmate miserable

—grew up with luxurious circumstances, very rich

—pretty unaware of the details of their destiny, but couldn’t care less

—tendency to make rash, reckless decisions but sometimes their soulmate talks them out of it

—loves the idea of running away

—is sunshine incarnate with an undertone of depression

—still cares about parent even though they are a horrible person (shows their undying loyalty and innocence)

—their uncanny empathy lets them know when their soulmate hasn’t smiled in the past three days, but they couldn’t notice that someone close to them was working for the enemy for a LONG time

—been drugged by/because of parent

—always knows when something is wrong with the soulmate and tries to comfort them, even when they don’t know the whole story

—always the first to defend their soulmate from accusations or talk them out of a situation

—have a blonde mother who they never truly knew

—can sometimes be so stupid, but other times they’re the smartest person in the room

—tease their soulmate about liking other people, even when that person is definitely not anyone to worry about

—no issue challenging their father

—whenever they try to sneak away or do something on their own, their soulmate is already there

—would actually die for their soulmate infinite times over, even if it’s not explicitly stated, and always attempt to take the blow for them

—their soulmate stayed with them all the while they were going through their inevitable, painful destiny that forever changed them

—got stabbed/slashed in the gut

—been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust (over and over)

—very open-minded (relative to those around them) and most would disagree with their beliefs that you should be with the one you love and not someone based on stupid rules set by tradition and authority

—has been carried by their soulmate because they were hurt

—comment on how their soulmate is worried all the time

—the last thing they see as they succumb to their destiny is their soulmate holding them in a sense as they say “stay with me”

[oliversrarebooks]

Apparently I went ahead and just wrote "villain being drugged and taken care of by hero doctors" because why not.

Masterlist

TW: injury, concussion, drugging, abuse

Oh, he'd really fucked up this time. Already so weary, at the end of his rope, he failed to notice the energy blast coming from the youngest member of the hero team, the one who struggled to keep her powers under control. He knew how badly he'd fucked up when his back hit the wall, pain exploding from every muscle, especially the parts of his back where his boss had already punished him. His head impacted the concrete with a sickening crack that made him see stars.

Villain sank helplessly to the sidewalk, his body refusing to obey his commands. Through his blurred vision, he could see the painfully bright costumes of the hero team, and he tried to struggle to his feet. He couldn't fail here. It simply wasn't an option. Failure meant risking the wrath of his boss, or worse, being captured and at the mercy of the heroes.

Pain radiated from his knee as he tried to stand. It was broken, maybe. Even more urgently, every tiny movement of his head caused a wave of dizziness, the world tilting and spinning in a nauseating blur. He searched for the word. Concussed, he was concussed. Shit. This was bad.

"Oh god oh god oh god." That was the high pitched voice of the young hero. "Oh god, are you okay? I didn't mean to hit that hard -- oh no oh no --"

Villain tried to answer, but his tongue was thick in his mouth.

"Step aside."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt him that bad --"

"It's okay, Youngest. Step aside and let me take a look."

Villain would know that voice anytime, anywhere, the smooth and confident voice of his nemesis, the city's most beloved superhero. Powerful, upstanding, and disgustingly rules-abiding. Villain hated him. Hated that he had so much power and had the luxury of helping people with it.

"Villain, speak to me," said Nemesis. "Stay awake. Talk to me. How bad is it?"

Nemesis' face swam into view before Villain's eyes. Fuck, this was really bad. He tried hard to focus. He had to slip away, couldn't let himself be captured. Boss would be furious. He'd hurt Villain so much worse than he'd already been hurt.

"Let me go," Villain managed, but it sounded weak and pathetic.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Villain. You're severely injured. I'm going to get you medical attention."

Villain tried to shake his head no, but all it did was make him twice as dizzy. He felt on the verge of passing out.

"Stay awake, Villain, please, keep those eyes open. Can you see my fingers? How many fingers am I holding up?"

The fingers were nothing more than an indistinct blur. Villain couldn't answer. All he could think of was his boss's unquenchable rage when he learned Villain had fucked up so badly. He could feel it now, power suppressants strapped to each of his limbs, the way the smooth metallic floor of the lair felt against his face as his boss mercilessly beat him for his failures.

"Get up, Villain," said the cruel voice of his boss, as he delivered a sharp kick to Villain's ribs. "Get the fuck up. I don't pay you to cower on the floor." 

"I -- I can't --"

"Yes, you can, Villain. You can keep your eyes open," said a much gentler voice. "You can stay awake for me, please, stay awake. The medic is almost here."

It sounded nice. The voice was familiar. He felt himself nodding. A medic. That sounded good. 

"That's good, Villain. Stay awake. Just a little more." 

A strong hand squeezed his, warm and comforting. Everything hurt except for that. He tried to squeeze back.

"Yes, that's good. I'm here. You're gonna be okay, Villain, we're gonna keep you safe."

Safe. What the fuck was safe? When had he ever been safe? Safety was for people like -- like -- His sluggish mind placed the voice and face. Nemesis. Fuck. He instinctively backed away. 

"No, no, it's okay! Just try to relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

"No -- no --" If the punishment Villain's boss doled out was bad, he couldn't imagine what Nemesis might do to him. He'd been a thorn in Nemesis's side for years.

"The medic's here, Villain. Just try to stay calm. I've got you."

Before he could protest further, Villain felt arms picking him up and laying him down on a gurney. His struggle against them was fruitless, his limbs weak and uncoordinated.

"Should we strap him down?" said a voice.

"I think you'd better. He doesn't seem to be all there. And even if he was..."

"Please --" said Villain, too quiet for anyone to even hear, as he felt pressure against his chest and legs, holding him down. 

"The concussion seems to be very serious, and there are multiple fractures at a minimum, not to mention the possibility of organ damage and internal bleeding," said a serious voice. "We'll have to administer painkillers and sedatives, and prepare an OR for emergency surgery."

"No!" Villain called out, a surge of adrenaline giving him the strength to fight. "You can't -- you can't capture me -- don't drug me -- let me go!"

Nemesis' firm hands pinned Villain's shoulders to the gurney. "You're going to hurt yourself, Villain. We're getting you medical attention. We're not going to hurt you, I swear it."

Incoherent nightmares filled Villain's foggy mind. "Yes, you are! Yes, you --"

His voice was suddenly muffled by a black rubber mask, and he gulped down a chemical-smelling, drug-laden breath before he realized it. He fell back against the gurney, his head much woozier and dizzier than it had been even a moment before.

"Just try to relax, Villain," said Nemesis. "It's just going to ease your pain and make you drowsy, okay?"

Villain shook his head in a vain attempt to get the mask off his face, but Nemesis' hand was holding it firm. Incapacitating him. Placing Villain at the mercy of the man who must hate him more than anyone. And his struggles were useless, the mask not budging an inch. 

Exhausted by his attempts, Villain stopped struggling for a moment and allowed Nemesis's face to come into focus. He didn't look angry. He looked... sad? Villain blinked, and he realized that his eyelids were so heavy. The sedative was kicking in. He was utterly helpless. And he should be terrified of that, but his fear was starting to feel foggy and far away, almost as if he was watching himself from a distance.

"That's good, Villain, you're doing okay. Just keep breathing," said Nemesis.

He sounded so... reassuring. Villain wondered briefly if that was how he sounded when he rescued civilians. Sometimes, on particularly bad nights, he wondered how that would feel. Being an innocent civilian safe in Nemesis' arms, as opposed to a villain fighting tooth and nail just to survive.

"You can shut your eyes now," said Nemesis. "You can go to sleep if you're tired. It's okay. You're safe."

Villain wanted to laugh. He never got to sleep just because he was tired. He was so, so tired, all of the time. And he was so impossibly, incredibly tired now. His knee hurt, his back hurt, his head felt like it was being jackhammered. His heavy eyes wanted so badly to close and stay shut. He just wanted to sleep. But he was in danger, wasn't he? He couldn't sleep here. Boss would kill him. He couldn't... sleep...

"...stronger sedative to put him under..." a voice was saying. 

There was the unmistakable feeling of a cold needle in the crook of his elbow. Villain wanted to fight it, stop it from happening, but all he could do was blink his heavy eyelids. "Don't..." he muttered. "Please don't... please..."

"Ssh, Villain, it's okay, I swear," said Nemesis. "I swear no one here is going to hurt you. You're just going to go to sleep, okay? The drugs are going to make you feel really warm and nice and then you'll go to sleep, and nothing bad is going to happen. I promise."

That strong hand squeezed his again. Villain felt so safe, so comforted, and he was so sleepy now, so sleepy and relaxed. The world was just a fading blur beyond his half-closed eyelids. He couldn't feel the pain as much any more. All he wanted to do was sleep. He never got to just sleep. Sleep would make him feel so much better.

"It's okay to sleep," said the reassuring blur. "I'll be right here."

Villain remembered the reason he couldn't go to sleep. "Boss...?" he said weakly. "Boss is gonna..."

"He's not here right now, Villain. I'm here. And I'll protect you while you sleep. No one is going to hurt you."

This had to be a dream. A beautiful dream where he got to sleep and someone was going to protect him from his boss. But he never got nice dreams like that.

"Is it..." His mind was so hazy. He couldn't think of what he was trying to say. "I'm..."

"You're going to sleep, now, Villain. You need to rest. Go to sleep. Shut your eyes. Rest."

"Mmm." He was too tired to argue. It felt so, so good to close his eyes. He could feel his pain fading as he relaxed onto the gurney.

"...surgery... gonna have to..."

"...can't just let him..."

"...right thing to do."

That was the last thing he heard before the sedatives pulled him down into a dreamless sleep.

Masterlist

[honeycreammilkshake]

Reading your anons and your answers I think the problem with those fans is that they only accept a character if it's involved with satoru.

Like, apparently you are not allowed to like Sukuna anymore nor like both yuji and sukuna, but you were only allowed to like AND analyze Sukuna when he was fighting Satoru loool

I'm sorry but Sukuna is more than that, sukuna doesn't need THAT fight to be a character in his own, Sukuna also kept analyzing and having cool moments with other characters, just because your favorite character was dead doesn't mean other things stopped existing. This is one of those cases where fans keep thinking the manga is about some secondary character

hi, anon. thank you so much for this ask. i'm going to follow this up by making an unnecessarily long and ranty post nobody's going to bother to read, but i felt the overwhelming need to go in-depth for this anyways. apologies for the length of this.

to start off, i'm going to point out something that will probably get me a lot of hate or at least criticism from gojo fanatics, but i think it should be said for all those out there who keep twisting jkk to fit their own problematic concept of morals.

so we all know sukuna is the big bad of jjk. he's the main antagonist, the evil cannibal monster, a god of chaos and apathy and murder. i'm not here to argue against this, though. it's been clear from the beginning sukuna is a true villain in all of his actions and beliefs. however, we really need to look at the contexts behind how he became such a monster and consider if he's actually the most "evil" sorcerer/curse in the jujutsu world or not.

i'm going to address the underlying problem with the pro-gojo/anti-sukuna fans who twist the story to suit their own views first.

so gojo was born with a tremendous amount of power, so much that he's been branded the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of the modern age. he literally shifted the flow of cursed energy and from the start was set apart from others. it's truly terrifying how much power he has...

so it's a good thing he's a real sweet and caring guy, right?

if only.

gojo is irredeemably self-absorbed, unhealthily egotistical, obsessed with his own abilities, demeaning and insulting to others, brutal to his students and dismissive of their safety, and more than willing to commit mass murder.

when fighting with jogo, for example, he doesn't seem bothered at all by the massacre of innocent people during their battle, and is even willing to sacrifice bystanders all in the name of winning.

he's displayed this same kind of general apathy for the lives of others in his past as well.

in his past arc, it was geto who saved gojo from becoming an actual villain and instead managed to set gojo on the path of becoming the slightly less evil antihero he is today. however, after riko's death, the experience turned both of them on each other as they settled on opposite sides of "good vs evil."

without geto there to guide him, though, gojo would have easily lost his way and turned evil .... so where was a person like that for sukuna?

the jujutsu world is extremely heartless and obsessed with strength. the jujutsu higher-ups were willing to kill yuuji - an innocent teenager who just happened to become dangerously involved with the world of curses and the host of sukuna - as well as risk the health and safety of countless others, sorcerers and normal people alike. the whole jujutsu world is full of corruption and cold, cruel people.

but this is just in the modern world - during the golden age of jujutsu, in the heian era, conditions were even harsher and crueler than they are now. during this time, existence for regular people in japan was demanding, quality of life was very low, and so many died of sickness and starvation. the amount of curses that arose from all this suffering was immense and required the extreme powers of sorcerers to balance it out.

this is the context of sukuna's birth. he came into this world as a child of a starving mother and he himself would have starved if he didn't consume his twin in the womb.

during his conversation with kashimo, who asks if sukuna was born with that much power or if he gained it throughout his life, sukuna himself seems to not know. all he can say is... he was an unwanted wretch.

societal demands and religious fights back then would have led to an overwhelming stigma and dehumanization of anything that people feared or didn't understand... which probably means that sukuna, who was able to be born from the act of eating his own unborn twin, was seen as monstrous from the day of his birth on. and if he was indeed born with such strength and a body merged with that of his twin's, or at least the compacity to become that, he was also most likely villainized for his nature as well.

where gojo was more embraced and highly coveted by the jujutsu world, the world sukuna was born into most likely shunned him and led him to adapt the kind of mindset he has now.

sukuna sees strength as the only means of survival, rising above the cruelty shown to him to become the cruelest himself. this philosophy, which a lot of people at this time believed in - especially in the jujutsu world - shows us that sukuna probably saw his own really option to endure was to become a monster. those at the top are above all the weak feelings and suffering of the ones beneath, after all, or so he believes.

and it seems like so many of the strongest sorcerers still believe in that concept as well. both yorozu and gojo thought they could reach sukuna by challenging him, but in the end... only yuuji ever connected with the king of curses.

(yes i will fit sukuita in here... even if you don't ship them romantically, it's an undeniable fact that their relationship is much more complex than it seems and that yuuji does in fact care for the very monster he's supposed to destroy.)

when sukuna's dying in chapter 268, yuuji makes it clear that he's willing to serve the kind of caring, understanding role in sukuna's life that was most likely never given to him.

instead of dehumanizing sukuna, yuuji actually accepts that sukuna turned out to be the monster he is and says it was all a matter of chance how they became like this.

this a level of empathy, intimacy, and compassion that someone like gojo (and pretty much the vast majority of jjk characters) could never show. sukuna himself seems at a loss for words for this unbelievably caring treatment from yuuji - he's even surprised enough to use the brat's full name.

and i dislike that fans are starting to twist this interaction between them to make it fit their own views of sukuna and gojo.

look, i like gojo objectively. he's a fine enough character and serves an important role in jjk. i'm not against him or his fans, and i certainly don't want to hurt or make light of other people's feelings towards him. however, i do want to point something out that some fans should really know better. so many antis are against us sukuita shippers and/or sukuna fans and their main argument, over and over again, is how evil and monstrous sukuna is and that gojo is obviously better in every way. they claim that because gojo is on the side of good, it means sukuna is the worst in terms of morals (when villains like kenjaku are arguably just as terrible if not more so but dismissed so easily) we are delusional or wrong for sympathizing with sukuna.

so i would like to say to these people... please stop using these pallid, baseless arguments against us sukuna lovers because they're just so inaccurate and keep misunderstanding the whole story. it's more than okay to have your own headcanons and depictions of a fictional character, whether they're sukuna or gojo or any of the others - but do not force that depiction on others and do not force your interpretation of the source material on us just to appease your own opinions.

please be more respectful to others, please keep your own dislikes to yourself instead of lashing out at other fans you could instead just avoid, and please stop being so mean to gege. whether or not he makes gojo return should not be a reason to spread such hate about him. it's disrespectful towards both him and all writers who work so hard to make the content you treat so harshly.

thank you.

[captainnameless]

Any thoughts on little lando, Oscar and Max hanging out? Would it be soft and full of snuggles or just pure chaos for poor Dan.

🐨🧡

ooooooh, there’s so many ways this could go lol. there’s a scenario where Daniel’s certain he breaks the record of most time outs dished out in a day but i’m feeling soft so here are some soft thoughts:

Daniel’s only slightly worried he’s bit off more than he can chew when he’s got all three boys in the car, feeling severely outnumbered but still confident. They’re fed, and clothed in appropriate outfits and for the moment well behaved.

Taking them to indoor padel turned out to be an amazing choice, the boys had a blast and are rewarded with a drive thru lunch for good behavior and are, most importantly, entirely worn out by the time they get home again which means getting the three of them down for a nap goes better than Daniel could have wished for.

He’s not ashamed of the baby monitor that he had installed and keeps checking, the three of them in the same room unsupervised too much of a safety risk, but as planned the boys are worn out enough for a long nap.

Max wakes up first, which surprises Daniel slightly, he would have put his money on Oscar, but the camera alerts him of movement and he watches Max stumble out of the room, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Hi, buddy.” Daniel smiles when Max appears in the doorway, putting his laptop away and opening his arms, enough of an invite for Max to come over and bury himself into Daniel’s chest with a whispered. “Hi, Daddy.”

Max is a cuddly guy most of the time, but Daniel especially adores the soft post nap cuddles, with Max all soft and warm from bed, noodle-y body flopped onto Daniel.

Eventually Max’ll complain about being hungry and their cuddle time is ended as Daniel has to get up and make him a snack. It turns into 2 snacks when Oscar appears slightly disheveled, hair sticking out and both giraffes tugged under his arms and held tightly against his chest.

“Hey bubs,” Daniel hums, pressing a kiss to Oscar’s head as he walks by to put Max’s cubed up fruits down for him, and a cup of lemonade. “Good nap?”

Daniel can see the flush of pink rising to Oscar’s cheeks, deepening the pink that was already there from the nap as his eyes dart from Max to Daniel, still getting used to the dynamic.

“You’re ok.” Daniel soothes under his breath, moving back over to wrap Oscar up in a hug and allow him to hide away in his chest for a bit. They sway until Oscar reappears, is awarded with another kiss and his own fruit bowl.

Lando’s only slightly disgruntled when he wakes up last, a little upset about it and grumbling about missing out. Daniel soothes the frown with a good cuddle and the reminder that the day is far from over.

Post nap and snack the boys’ energy has been renewed and Daniel’s house is turned upside down but they mostly manage to avert any fights. Lando’s entirely too excited about two of his favorites being together and is bouncing through their games.

It’s nice to see Lando so excited but Daniel’s keeping an especially close eye on Oscar who seems to be getting a little overwhelmed with everything that’s going on.

“Osc,” He calls out when he can see the youngest start to struggle a bit. “Come here for a sec.”

“You’re not in trouble.” Daniel says when Oscar’s pushed himself up and has made his way over, a slightly worried look on his face. “Come sit with Danny, hm?”

He pats the space next to him and waits for Oscar to sit down, wraps an arm around his shoulder and smiles when Oscar fits himself into his side.

“Figured you could use a little break.” Daniel says softly, scratching his hand into Oscar’s messy hair. “You ok?”

Oscar sighs, relaxes into Daniel and nods. “‘m ok, Danny.”

Daniel uses his one free hand to type emails, the other occupied holding Oscar and only a short while later, Oscar stirs, thumb dropping from his mouth as he tries to slide off the couch, looking back at Daniel questioningly.

“Go, bud.” Daniel nods, patting Oscar’s hip and watching him scurry off to join the other two.

He snaps a picture of the three of them, messages the group chat with a

“Not to brag but I’m pretty good at this.”

[meyousing]

𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨, 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮 [𝟐]

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: chrollo + prompt 27 “you know that I’ll find you. I always find you.” + reincarnation(& or soulmate) au

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you’re able to find a place to rest before you continue your journey home, but you can only make it so far when your soulmate has so many methods at his hands to keep tabs on you.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: this is PART 2 [final part] of a soulmate au where mates have a nen tattoo of the other's portrait on their hand. sfw, manipulation, some violence, implied side character death. 

return to 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 here!

You’d managed to run for half a day, adrenaline taking you as far away as you were capable. When the sun had started to set that same night, your energy began to diminish along with the sunlight, and your legs simply couldn’t carry you anymore, not even in a walk or trudge. Thankfully, you’d made it far out enough from the previous wasteland, that there was somewhat of a city surrounding you now. A city, with more people around, and less of an odour plaguing the air. 

Despite the security you felt from having more people surrounding you, you were very worried about taking a break. You had none of your possessions, so paying for the safety that four walls of a motel room could provide was impossible, short of begging and pleading for one with the receptionist. But you weren’t certain of where exactly you were, your paranoia made it so that you still felt like you were in close proximity to your initial drop off– still in close proximity to Chrollo, who must have been hunting you down this entire time. That thought also had you worried about finding a place to rest outside; the risk of being entirely exposed and out in the open scaring you out of it immediately. It was out of the question. 

“Please, I’ll find a way to pay it back later. It’ll just be one night, I’ll even take a room that hasn't been cleaned yet! I’ll take anything that you have, please…” you begged the receptionist with interlocked hands, your head bowing down in desperation. He only groaned.

“Listen, I don’t want to keep repeating myself. I can’t let you have a room without an upfront payment, that’s how it works here. You’re gonna have to pay here, or go somewhere else. Those are gonna be your only options around here.” 

Rage boiled within you, nails digging into your skin as you glared back up at the man. 

“There has to be something else I can do instead of an upfront, I don’t have any money to pay with right now!” To prove your point, you reached into your pockets and pulled them right out in a dramatic display to show him just how empty they were.

 As you did, a handful of coins flew out and onto the floor. 

The receptionist raised his eyebrows at you. Surely now he must have thought you were a complete idiot who just exposed your plan to swindle him. You blinked off your shock at this discovery, laughing nervously as you bent down to pick the coins up and place the right amount onto the counter; shocked once more to see that you still had some money left over after the room was paid for. 

You were still in your work uniform. To save yourself some time while doing laundry; any money that you got from tips were immediately taken out of your pockets and kept in your purse, which was back at your apartment right now. This money was not in your pocket before… but, whatever higher being placed it there for you would be getting plenty of praise and thanks later on as you fell asleep in a cheap and warm motel bed for the night. 

The room had two single beds, and the water here was lukewarm at best, but you had never been more thankful to have a somewhat heated shower in your entire life, than you were right now. It could have been freezing cold for all you cared, you were just incredibly grateful to be able to fully wash off the parting gift of grime and filth that Meteor City left on you. 

As you hummed a tune and worked the fragrant motel shampoo through your roots, you knew that while this moment of peace was delightful–you couldn’t relax just yet. Tonight was a privilege, you didn’t know if inns or rest stops would be as easy to come by, like this one had been, as your journey home continued. Not to mention the lucky coins appearing in your pocket, would you have to pick up a part time job somewhere to afford transport fees later on? After such an exhausting day, you wanted to at least try and relax, to avoid thinking about stressful matters such as this before the actual treachery of your trip ensued. 

Instead, you chose to live in this moment as immersively as possible. You relished in the feeling of weight being lifted off of your scalp as the shampoo scrubbed out the debris, appreciating the relief that it brought. Then you prepared your conditioner slowly, taking your sweet time as you worked it through your ends. You wished this could last forever, if forever meant confining you to this bathroom in exchange for Chrollo never being able to track or find you. Though all good things must come to an end, so when your hands began to prune like raisins and the air became a bit constricted from the steam, you turned the water off and wrapped yourself up in a bunch of towels. You shivered from the further drop in temperature as you stepped onto the bathmat, remaining there for quite some time until your trembling ceased, keeping your eyes shut and letting the towels warm and comfort you until you were effectively air dried. 

Unfortunately, there was no second miracle of the night with new clothes magically being provided to you, so you had the option of either changing back into your work uniform, or hoping your towel would stay wrapped as you got under the sheets. You decided on the latter, as going back into your outfit would have rendered your memorable shower meaningless.

You unravelled the towel that had wound your hair up, dropping it on the floor and using the dryer that hung from the wall until your hair was more damp than soaked. Usually you’d be more cautious of sleeping with wet hair at all, and would dry it completely. Your mother, friends, coworkers, always warned you of how harmful it could be to let even the slightest dampness remain overnight, but in your current situation, you were just happy to know you’d be sleeping with a pillow under your head in the first place. 

Turning the bathroom light off after you were finished, you wrapped another towel around your shoulders for some extra warmth while the other stayed around you, tied at your chest. You tried to fight off a yawn to no avail as you shuffled over to one of the beds, your exhaustion obvious as sleep became imminent. Your arms felt like jelly as you untucked the comforter and sheet, sliding under them and instantly finding a comfortable position to fall asleep in. Frailty from everything that your body had just been put through allowed you to rest for the night, succumbing to a slumber the very moment your eyes closed. 

Waking up the next day was strange. Being supported by a mattress was lovely, and your reintroduction to consciousness allowed you a few seconds of blissful forgetfulness as you slowly came to. As far as you knew, you had just woken up from your morning nap after work and were ready to get some tasks done for the day. But as you writhed in a stretch, everything came back. No, all of what had just happened was not just a bad dream. 

You didn’t know what time it was either, which only disoriented you further. You had no phone to check, and no watch or clock in the room anywhere to show you. The idea of leaving this bed could have made you cry, but you knew that you couldn’t stay in one place for too long in these circumstances. You begrudgingly sat up, rubbing your eyes and hunching over as you mustered the strength to throw your legs over the side of the bed to stand up. As you did, you noted that the towels you wore stayed on through the night, an indication of how solid you must have slept. 

Walking over to where you had thrown your uniform the night before, you stared it down while fearing the idea of putting it back on–the junkyard scent that still lingered on the material served as a reminder of where you had just escaped from. With no other choice, you slowly changed into it, wishing that wearing a towel dress in public was socially acceptable to save you from that reminder. 

Thinking about parting with the clean towels had you wondering if you could sneak one out with you as you set off. You’d definitely have to deal with that pesky receptionist asking what you were doing with it, since you had to go see him anyway. Not only to return your room key, but also to ask what time it was. As much as you wanted to procrastinate on this interaction after the way your last one went, you knew that too much time was passing and you had to get moving. Keeping one of the towels folded in your arm, you left your room, embracing the soft breeze of the somewhat fresh air as it cooled your face and blew your hair. 

Inhaling softly, you opened the door to reception and cringed at what was coming next; probably a huge eye roll and no show of thanks as you returned your key. The door shut behind you, and what you hadn’t expected was for the receptionist to be standing there facing you, already staring with his hands folded behind him and a wide grin on his lips. Since you were still annoyed with his lack of empathy the night before, you hadn’t planned to go into this too kindly, but the intensity of his smile had you mirroring him subconsciously. 

“Here’s the key,” you stated, dropping it on the desk and waiting for his response. He only blinked–with one eye at a time–which unnerved you greatly. Was this some kind of sarcastic retaliation to show that he was still annoyed with you from yesterday? Whether he was being petty or not, you didn’t want to waste more time here than you already had. “Could I ask what time it is?”

“It’s time to go back home” he whispered, voice quiet and syllables muffled under his breath. You mistook this as some kind of inn-culture joke. Like, obviously you’d be going home after staying in a motel! 

You chuckled, a bit fakely to appease him, while waiting for him to actually tell you the time. But when he continued to stare and not say a word, your smile started to fall and your brief laugh tapered off into silence. Okay…you get it, he’s bothered by you. Asking for the time would be your last question for him, then you could leave and part ways for good. Why was he dragging this out? 

You were about to repeat yourself, saying Can you just tell me? When his next move caught you off guard. You flinched back as his face fell expressionless and he collapsed forward, straight for his desk– he had gone unconscious. Rushing over, you leaned atop the desk’s edge to see him; how his arms had stopped him from falling to the floor entirely and surrounded his head, but his legs contorted beneath him, they looked broken. From such a slight fall? The sight was frightening, and you were about to back away to look for help, when you noticed something that you hadn't seen initially. There was something sticking out of the back of his neck…was that… an antenna? 

“I heard how impolite he was to you last night. Chivalry truly is dead in today’s day and age, isn’t it?” 

That voice was all too familiar, and it certainly didn’t come from the receptionist. You snapped back to stand up straight and try to turn around, but you did not expect your back to collide with someone’s chest. His hands found your hips, effectively stilling you before they slid along your waist, meeting to clasp over your abdomen. You looked down, recognizing and hating how Chrollo’s hands were ingrained in your memory from the countless times you’d held and caressed them before. 

Rather than experience dread and paralysis upon your first meeting like you would have expected (sure, you’d love to lie and say that you wouldn’t ever get caught, you never expected a first meeting. But you knew this would happen, didn’t you?) you only felt defeat. His chin pressed into your shoulder and you cowered, the gentle exhale from his nose tickling your cheekbone. 

“Why did you run?”

Of course he didn’t seem mad at you. All he ever had for you was patience and understanding. This almost made you feel worse, like you were a rebel acting out against a caretaker who wasn’t mad at you, just disappointed. You didn’t know how to answer him, but thankfully he continued before you could. 

 “I knew that you would try to, It’s a natural reaction to have in a situation such as this. I just want to know why…did I do something wrong?”

Was he being serious right now?!

“I paid for your rent…I made food for you, no expenses paid on your part. I did this all without complaint, because I wanted to. How else do you think you were able to afford a room here?” 

So… it was him who put the coins in your pocket? You had him to thank for a restful night after, causing you so much grief to begin with.

“As my soulmate, you deserve the finest. So what is it?” He spun you around in his grasp, embracing you face to face. He was looking right into your eyes, though his appearance caught you off guard; his usual head cloth was lacking, revealing some type of cross tattoo, and his hair was styled back rather than down. He’d never appeared to you this way before–it made you nervous, it had you squirming away but he only squeezed you closer, fingertips caressing you as he held on. 

You were at a loss for words, heart thumping too loudly in your ears for you to even hear your own thoughts. His eyes seemed so sad, like he was on the verge of tears.

“Did you think that after doing all of that, I would just let my soulmate go?” his eyes hardened then, tone dropping a few decibels as if it were only meant for both of you to hear. Nobody else was around to save you, anyway, yet it still sent a chill down your spine. 

You shook your head, not knowing what else to say. Your throat felt like it was full of thorns as you swallowed, eyes welling with hot tears as the reality of this situation dawned on you. 

He didn’t say anything else, only gazing at you for a moment longer before placing a hand on the back of your head to pull you into him fully, pressing it into his chest while his other arm was secure around your waist. You trembled softly, like a mouse caught in a trap, being loomed upon impendingly by its predator. That wasn’t too far off from the truth, was it? Chrollo had a way of hunting you this entire time, even letting you have some time to yourself before making it known that he could have taken you back whenever he saw fit. If only he had given you some more time. 

“Did this teach you a lesson, about how it’s useless to try and run?” He whispered the last part right next to your ear, lips tickling your skin as he nipped at the lobe softly, pulling away with it in his teeth until it couldn’t follow anymore, and nuzzled his cheek into yours. 

The closeness and intimacy of what he was doing, mixed with the implications behind everything he said, had you flustered and panicking. You whimpered as you tried to wriggle away from his grasp, and astonishingly, he let you out. Your body flew back into the reception desk from the force in your movements, you winced from the sharp surface digging into your spine. You braced yourself and tried to find stable footing as the tears that streamed down your cheeks began to impair your vision. Chrollo remained in his place, watching you with sympathy written across his features, moving his hands to rest in his coat pockets.

“If I let you go right now, let you run as far as you liked, or even paid for your transportation; you know what would happen, don’t you?” His head teetered to one side, giving him a flair of condescendence that made you feel utterly stupid. You shut your eyes, unable to keep looking at such an expression and absorbing such an aura that only made you feel so, so bad about yourself. He was surely convinced that he was entirely justified in every aspect of this situation, completely civil in how he was handling everything. He spoke again, and this time his voice was a step closer, making you tense and screw your eyes shut even tighter.

 “Tell me what would happen.” 

You shook your head, the only verbal response you offered being a choked out sob. You raised a shaky hand to wipe your tears away, blinking your eyes open in an attempt to clear them, to gain some form of solidity in this. 

It was when Chrollo’s hand romantically lifted towards your face that an idea came to you. Ever the amorous, the poet that he was, surely if you had expressed your perspective to him in some kind of fairy-tale-esque device, he would be more understanding of you. Of why he was not in the right here, and how what he did was not the only realistic solution. 

You stopped him, daring to press your palm to his, fingers quivering as you held him there. You sniffled before looking up, your voice breaking as you chose your next words slowly and methodically. 

“If you truly love me the way you claim to, as my soulmate…you should let me go.”

As you tried to gauge a reaction from his unchanging expression, anxiety filled your nerves. You tried to drive the point home by forcing your fingers to intertwine, clutching his hand in a (false) show of affection. 

After a moment, one where he looked contemplative, he finally smiled at you. You returned his smile, thinking that your words struck something within him and that he would agree with you. Then his fingers curled around your knuckles and his hand squeezed yours with such bone-crushing strength, you cried out and brought up your other to pry yourself out of his grip.

“Your soul is bound to mine, nothing could ever keep us apart.”

He leaned in, his nose inches from yours as he pushed your hand down and pinned it against the desk, the force in the movement making it vibrate and jolt the rest of your body. 

“Even if I did let you run free, Y/N, you know that I’d find you. I will always find you.”

© meyousing 2023. do not share/export my work on to any other platforms. do not translate my work. 

[kp777]

By JON QUEALLY

Common Dreams

Sep 09, 2023

"The Corps' covering for the pipeline company's outrageous safety record and the reviewer's serious conflict of interest have now resulted in a failed effort," said Standing Rock Sioux Tribe Chairwoman Janet Alkire. "They need to start over with adult supervision."

Standing Rock Sioux Tribe Chairwoman Janet Alkire is leading a fresh demand that the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers throw out an ongoing environmental review process of the controversial Dakota Access Pipeline and start again from scratch alongside a superseding call for the pipeline to be shuttered completely.

Following Friday's release of a revised Environmental Impact Statement (EIS), ordered by a federal court, the tribe said the document reveals the entire process has been a failure and that the pipeline—currently operating across their land without consent in what they consider an "illegal" manner by the Energy Transfer company—should be shut down once and for all.

"We're furious that the Army Corps has addressed none of our major concerns during the review process," Chairwoman Alkire said in a statement.

"The pipeline is an imminent threat to the Missouri River, sensitive habitat, and sacred burial sites along the riverbank," she continued. "The oil company's emergency response plans are inadequate, its safety track record is horrendous, and there's been a stunning lack of transparency with Standing Rock throughout the environmental review process, including inaccurate characterizations of tribal consultation."

The Army Corps did not make any recommendations or indicate preferences among the alternatives presented in the new EIS report, which included keeping it in operation, possible rerouting, removing the pipeline by excavation, or abandoning it in place. The Corps said its final recommendations will accompany a final report once the review process is complete, but the Standing Rock Sioux said the process has been seriously flawed.

The tribe said the draft EIS fails to "account for the existence of criminal charges and a host of fines and serious citations" from regulators faced by Energy Transfer. Alkire accused the Corps of "doing all it can to ignore the company’s poor safety record and the high risk" of the pipeline. According to the statement by the tribe:

the entirety of the environmental review process hasn't been taken seriously and is compromised because the Corps selected a company with a clear conflict of interest to prepare the just-released draft EIS. Environmental Resources Management — which also produced a sparkling environmental review for the Keystone XL pipeline, later shelved due to environmental concerns — is a member of the American Petroleum Institute. That organization previously filed a legal brief in support of DAPL in Standing Rock’s suit against the Army Corps. Moreover, Environmental Resources Management has contracted with at least five separate companies with an ownership interest in DAPL.

The release of the EIS triggers a 45-day public comment period and the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe is now requesting public support in opposition of the project.

"The Corps' covering for the pipeline company's outrageous safety record and the reviewer's serious conflict of interest have now resulted in a failed effort," said Alkire of the current process. "They need to start over with adult supervision."

Amy Mall, senior advocate at NRDC, said her group stands "in solidarity with the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe in opposing this dirty and dangerous pipeline that harms the climate and threatens the primary water source for the Tribe."

"The Army Corps must consider all of the risks of this pipeline, make all significant environmental information available without redactions, and honor the Tribe’s treaty rights," Mall added. "We call on the Corps to shut it down."

Our work is licensed under Creative Commons (CC BY-NC-ND 3.0). Feel free to republish and share widely.

JON QUEALLY Jon Queally is managing editor of Common Dreams. Full Bio >

[almightyhamslice]

Zolphius redesign! I reckon he was the first case created, and he was sculpted prior to the discovery that Givanium makes creatures grow insanely large. So, assuming he'd stay the same size, the scientists created a 3 ft long snake character out of clay (and fitted his mask before injecting the givanium into him). So, after the Givanium was administered, he quickly destroyed his containment cell & was hastily dumped into the deep chasm of the resort, lest he destroy any important structures.

However, Givanium does have some pretty strong staying power, and a long fall wasn't going to kill Zolphius. He lives in the resort's chasm but is able to move around within it by climbing the walls (though, he must move slowly and gently or else he risks causing a cave in). Zolphius is very placid and nonviolent by nature, often being too tired and sluggish to fight. It takes a lot of energy to move his body after all! And he'd rather spend that energy looking around and helping people.

I think he has a bit of human DNA in his system, he is blind and he can't understand or speak English, but he is able to speak a bit of Spanish. He wasn't taken care of by most of the scientists after he broke containment and fell to the void, but he probably had one individual caretaker who spoke to him kindly. They must have been where he learned Spanish from?

His colossal size and permanent presence beneath steep dropoffs and dangerous pits in the resort have given him a second chance to be of use to management; they present him as a sort of "safety net" in case anyone passes the protective railings of the resort and falls off the edge! As he has soft and malleable skin and usually hovers close to the edges, he is usually able to catch people in his hollowed out eyes or mouth. He is able to detect where the most people are based on their breathing patterns, which is also how he knows where to move if one were to fall. Though, if he does catch you, you should wash off the moment you're able to get back to solid ground. He is perpetually stained, and it will rub off on you.

He is painted on walls near particularly dangerous areas as a warning to kids, his name shortened to "Mr. Z" for easier recognition and pronunciation. He is pretty much never associated with or acknowledged by any of the other mascots, though Stinger Flynn and Banban think positively of him. Flynn and Zolphius can't directly communicate, but Flynn has been trying to worm his way into Zolphius' mind to understand what he's saying.

He's generally trusted not to kill or eat people; he will not eat anything he can feel breathing. He is very hungry though. The Banban's Resort staff fed him trash.

[kottkrig]

To Embrace The Shadow: Repentance

The Shadow Mother sees things from a different perspective.

World of Warcraft | Original Characters

Light Angst | Found Family

In the Void, time had no meaning. Lucretia didn’t know how long she was stuck in it when every minute had her fighting to stay tethered to reality. She was a mind without a body, a consciousness desperately trying to stay awake. The ambush had disintegrated her form, forcing her back into the darkest of planes and trapping her there. She plunged so deep that she couldn’t witness the outcome above, and it was by the skin of her teeth that she managed to hook herself from falling any deeper. That man’s face was the last thing she saw before holy flames erupted in her core, and his gunshot was the last sound that echoed in her head. A regular bullet was pathetic against a living shadow, but those pistols had been blessed by a man who believed that what he did was righteous. He praised the Light as she burned in front of the people who she had promised to protect.

But the Shadow Mother would not have her calling cut short by a false redeemer. Lucretia was a stubborn old crone, spitefully refusing to die, and her days weren’t numbered until she counted them herself.

When she was stable enough to reach Tyr’s Fall, and she could see the lake from a different plane, she found it empty. Reverberating silence, taunted by whispers from the abyss. Lucretia had no idea how the ambush had ended, or if his minions were dealt with–or worse, if any of her people died–but she felt no biting Light there. This forest tipped in favor of the Void, and while she wasn’t yet strong enough to leave, she could recover where the veil between realms was thinner.

A few nights of meditation passed by, and she eventually caught visitors at the lake. They couldn’t see her, and she couldn’t risk being spotted when she was vulnerable, even when the people she saw were fellow Forsaken. If she returned prematurely, she made herself an easy target, and if murderous zealots were still a threat, they could destroy her for good. They were not the only ones who would love to see her dead. The first visitors were scouts coming to check the forest, later bringing along Dark Clerics to drain what Light still bled into their hallowed soil. Lucretia recognized their voices, but they weren’t credible enough to detect her when she didn’t have a body. She couldn’t even speak in her current condition. She chose to watch and wait for the right moment. More time passed, and less people came to the lake as it was restored. In a way, they helped Lucretia as well, as she could amass enough energy to construct a minor form. It wasn’t the one she made familiar to the dead and feared by the living; the Shadow Mother’s visage was too grand, still too risky for her to mantle. Instead, she chose to be a raven. Small and unassuming, as well as one of her favored animals.

The few who came in the coming nights were exclusively people from the cult. The forest could be used for its magical properties, especially the lake, and cultists sometimes visited to soak in liquid Shadow. Lucretia knew them all, and some she would even trust with her safety. She considered taking a dip herself, but it meant that she would have to cross the veil. As a raven, she might blend in, but it was still a risk that she wasn't keen on taking. She was not expecting three special people to make an appearance. In her relief to see her students safe and sound, she wanted to listen in, and felt no fear flying closer. It dawned upon her that one of them could still peer into the Void, as he froze when he faced her. While she could not be certain that leaving was safe, having them arrive to where she fell played on her emotions. She might not see them again anytime soon, and she wanted to help them, let them know that she wasn't gone. She took the risk. The second she unveiled herself to them, reality crashed over her like a tidal wave, and forced her to escape. It was a foolish move. She immediately felt tired when entering the mortal plane, but what's done is done. If she went back in when she was this frail, she might lose her form and fall much deeper. It would take even longer to recover, and she had to see what happened in her absence. However, her entrance would likely rustle the entire village and turn stares towards her, so when she flew back to Deathknell, she continued to hide and watch her people. Sister Zala readily came looking for her. The girl was impulsive and quick to anger, but if she really wanted something, her will was strong. An elf’s eyes could easily catch a raven among the trees, and it was just a matter of when she would. Lucretia hoped that she could hide long enough to recover a little bit more; it might allow her to safely move, as well as to see if her disciple would be tenacious. When she finally was discovered, Lucretia was forced to conceal her identity. She suspected that Zala already knew, but the situation had to be weighed first. Seeing the new burn scar on her cheek made Lucretia’s phantom heart sink, but the scar also proved that Zala had pulled through another hardship. Maintaining a safe distance, Lucretia let the elf continue to challenge her struggles with the Forgotten Shadow’s second tenet. The time eventually came, and Zala’s tears shifted from frustration to out of joy when they could communicate again. Her guile had them passing through the village with ease, and Lucretia was further heartened when Lafayette and Cletus were added to the reunion. She was worried for them and was glad to see them enduring. Staying with them, she was blessed to also see them growing. As their mentor, she had become complacent. They all knew that she surpassed them by far, and she was a strict teacher when the Forgotten Shadow was no easy religion to follow. Her high expectations led her to believe that she would be guiding them for a long, long time. Their dependency on her had her taking care of things she deemed too ambitious for them.

Her arrogance was what lowered her guard and led her to failing them. In the room they obtained, which was hardly built for four people, Lucretia was humbled by depending on her students. Lafayette, Zala and Cletus set aside the hard competition of the Shadow, where the strong lords over the weak, and took the incentive to help her. She tried objecting to them expending their energy on her, as she knew that she could recover on her own with time. In fact, she would accept being stuck in this state for months if it meant that she could witness her disciples blossoming together. But they were in charge here, not her.

Winter had claimed the land and kept people indoors. Lucretia stayed put and obliged with the trio's efforts to supply her with magic. She watched over Lafayette's attempts to rebuild his vision. He couldn’t completely restore it and was left nearsighted, with a sensitivity to brightness, but it was his own magic and he didn’t need anyone else to see. He wouldn’t let her, and she wouldn’t force it. Just watching him return to his beloved books warmed her spirit.

When Zala fetched them tools they needed–rare reagents from unfamiliar places–she returned exhausted and disheveled. Lucretia was always hesitant to let such an impatient and often aggressive character go too far beyond personally surveyed objectives, but she had to trust her student now. She could at least help Zala with planning and encourage her to be cautious when she walked in the Shadow. The ranger found enough success in her hunt, and her bruises were a reminder that while difficult to follow, Tenacity was the tenet made just for these situations. As long as she was smart about it. Cletus was the one that Lucretia saw the least, and the man she had to trust the most. His loyalty to her was flattering, but it was usually for egocentric reasons. He had a tendency to hog the spotlight and wasn't always good at hiding his satisfaction from surpassing lesser acolytes. Before, his drive for power led him to speaking over the other two, and he would likely have gloated in obtaining this authority, but something had shifted in Lucretia’s absence. While she was out of commission, Cletus was the one to cover for them. This time, he listened to the others–not just her–and made sure that they got what they needed.

As the new year progressed, they bestowed her with so much healing that she could use her full voice. The long winter nights propelled her recovery forward, and one promising eve, she stood between them and positively radiated with magic.

So much energy was exuding from this little raven that it would have to be put in a body that was better equipped to handle it.

“I believe that it's time.” Lucretia’s spectral voice rang with conviction.

“The other Dark Clerics are going to hound you for avoiding the mountain of paperwork on your desk,” Cletus said, “but we are thrilled to witness your transformation.”

“And here I was starting to get attached to this form. What a pity.”

They smiled. Making jokes was exceptionally rare for her.

Everyone stepped back when she took flight, and her wings reached far and wide as Shadow coiled around them. Her frame was swallowed by darkness and exploded in growth. Its twisting was gloriously gruesome; feathers made way for ceremonial cloth, the beak split into a skeletal grin, and her eyes expanded like black holes from the Great Dark Beyond.

When the miter of a master Dark Cleric speared the air and they saw the deathly face of their teacher, the three acolytes basked in their accomplishment. The oldest stepped forward.

“Welcome back, Mother.”

[spooky-circuits]

can we get clay and viva reaction to the whole kids appeared at the putt putt course

Viva starts talking about how excited she is that Poppy is finally safe here with her and how all her friends will be safe too now that they’re here. In her excitement she doesn’t notice the looks they give each other behind Poppy.

Clay is surprised his baby brother managed to find him with just a group of teenagers he’s as impressed as he is concerned. They tell him about how excited their families will be to know more trolls survived and he realizes that “Oh they aren’t random orphans these kids have a home to go home too.” He knows Viva won’t want to let them risk going home. Especially now that Poppy is in the picture. He understands how she feels all too well now that Branch is here in front of him for the first time since the fight and getting separated in the escape. He doesn’t regret going with Viva that night but there are days where he can’t help but think about the family he’s lost.

Clay doesn’t stop Viva when she tells the snack pack they aren’t leaving and feels guilty when Branch gives him that look of betrayal when he doesn’t speak up.

Viva is scared of loosing her sister and would hate if these kids got eaten just because they want to play action hero. She has to be the responsible one even when these kids look scared of her when she tells them they can’t leave the safety of the golf course. She knows they’ll understand once they see how safe it is here.

Branch says something to Clay from behind the door of the room the kids have been put into. “You know you aren’t going to be able to keep us here right? I don’t know if you noticed but my friends are really good at sneaking out.” Clay still feels guilty but Viva had made some good points Branch just needed to see how great this place was. “Come on Branch I know it doesn’t seem great but you’ll like it here!” The room is quiet behind him. “Branch?… Bitty B?” He opens the door to find a hole in the floor. “Wow he wasn’t kidding about their escape skills… Oh Shit!”

Viva is heartbroken that her sister would just leave she had really thought Poppy would understand but she hadn’t and her sister was gone all over again. Worse than that Clay was grabbing supplies like he was planning to leave too. “Clay what are you doing?” Her voice sounds so small Clay can’t remember the last time he heard her sound like that. She was usually so full of life and energy he hates that he made her sound like that. “I have to go after them Viva. I know you’re scared but I won’t be able to rest until I know Branch is okay. You understand that don’t you.” And she does understand. She hates that she doesn’t have the courage to go out and find Poppy. “I’ll bring Poppy back for you too. So you can stay here and look after everyone.” She hates how he’s making excuses for her but she can’t bring herself to disagree. “Just… just be safe. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you too.” Clay smiles at her. “Did you forget who put all the fire exits in Viv? Safety is my middle name!” She smiles but her face goes serious again quickly. “I mean it Clay I don’t want to loose any more people.” He smiles at her with sad eyes. “I know… Don’t worry I’ll bring them back soon.”

The snack pack was already a good distance from the golf course before they feel comfortable slowing down and Guy goes “I’m sorry your siblings ended up being uh…” he doesn’t want to say anything hurtful since Poppy was clearly torn up about having to leave Viva. Branch just looks at him like “Uh yeah thanks Guy.” Creek speaks up “At least 1 out of 3 secret siblings turned out alright.” It’s poorly timed but it manages to actually get a laugh out of everyone with how absurd their day has been. Branch especially can’t stop laughing. “Oh that’s horrible Creek why would you even say that!”

[kagedbird]

Cicero Loves You, Listener! TESSDE AU - Dark Brotherhood route

~ [First] ~ [Next] ~ [Prev] ~

Something had gone wrong while we were up on the cliff.

I hadn’t been able to put my finger on it. It felt like we were being watched. I was certain the others could feel it to, with the way Inigo’s tail whipped up a storm, ears flicked back tightly against his skull; Lucien nervously kept checking over his shoulder, waiting for something to pop out; Kaidan scanning the horizon line repeatedly for anyone in the close vicinity or far distance.

I couldn’t hold back my own shivers of discomfort as we slowed our pace, feeling very much like we were being corralled to something.

We were not too far from Falkreath, in Reachmen territory. Normally, according to my boys, this usually spelt disaster. But I’d managed to make friends with many of the tribes in the area, and they’d given us clear passage by warning others that we weren’t to be harmed.

They really enjoyed my hurdy gurdy songs I’d shared the first time.

Due to this safety net, however, I knew it wasn’t them stalking us like prey. Shepherded closer and closer to the edge of a cliffside, my hands felt clammy while holding the grip of Kaidan’s bow, and I felt as taut as the bowstring along my entire body.

I just wished something would happen, so we could get it over with all ready!

Suspense was my most despised form of horror. Not knowing when the other shoe would drop raised my anxiety levels too high; pulse skyrocketing in my veins. Sahloknir and Mirmulnir could hardly contain Nahagliiv with the amount of turmoil coiling through me, try as I might to douse it with vague hope.

My heart was palpitating and squeezing too tightly. My mouth felt like cotton had taken over to live on my tongue, and I felt sweat trickle down the base of my arms. I was sure to have an anxiety attack before long if this kept up.

Inigo whipped around, bow drawn, a snarl on his face as we all turned to see what had caught his attention.

But there was nothing in the area behind us.

I whipped my head back around— equal parts sure it had been a diversion, as well as thinking I had heard something this time— only to find nothing yet again. Sequestered between two boulders that hugged the edge of the cliff precariously, we all waited, as still as our breathing, for anything to happen.

…And waited.

…

…And waited still.

Despite nothing happening, none of us were willing to look away and untense to let our guards drop. We’d been through too much for that. We knew better— even Lucien, who I could tell was struggling to keep still.

I swallowed thickly again, trying to hear anything beyond the beating of my blood in my ears. We were on our way back to Whiterun, and all I wanted to do was to fall into Bren’s arms and rest with my family. I wanted to go home and cook for them and not think about being the Dragonborn for five minutes. Not have to think about the Gods that pestered me endlessly about saving the world.

I wanted a break. Not to break.

Kaidan shuffled in place, the sound of his gloves creaking from his grip sounding like blaring sirens in the stillness. Lucien’s breathing was tight, fire alight along his fingers and palms. And though no longer drawn fully to conserve energy, Inigo was still poised and at the ready to shoot anything that remotely popped up out of the blue.

I could feel my magicka swirling just under the surface of my skin, aching to be let out and released, but I couldn’t. Not yet. I couldn’t draw eyes to us just because of this tension. It would only give whatever was out there a hidden third party to kill us all the easier.

I was growing weary with every passing minute though. Why wait this long? Why drag it out? Were they even there anymore?

The temptation to call out grew more and more, but I could hear my sister berating me for outing myself to an enemy and risking my team. So I continued biting my tongue and kept my eyes peeled—

There. A shadow had moved behind the boulder on the right, I had seen it. I silently nudged Inigo and Kaidan, as they were closest to me, and nodded towards that boulder. They nodded back, eyes sharp, as I slowly moved to Lucien’s side to warn him as well.

What I hadn’t anticipated was the sudden and sharp whistle from a fired arrow racing towards me, catching me in the shoulder in mere moments.

All hell broke loose. Kaidan and Inigo immediately went on the hunt, shouting out war cries as they raced after the perceived threat, while Lucien caught me as I fell into his arms. I stumbled, knees hitting the dirt and small rocks painfully; my hand reaching up to the arrow that was surely sunk into my muscle.

Another whistle, I couldn’t think, I just shoved Lucien down, watching as the next arrow shuddered into the dirt behind us.

“RUN!” I screamed past the stranglehold on my throat, getting up as fast as I possibly could and dragged Lucien up with me.

“Where?!” He yelped back, stumbling upright and hurried off as I pushed him.

“Anywhere! Serpentine! Just run!” I croaked. Anxiety was clawing at my insides— I couldn’t think.

Another arrow just barely missed Lucien’s foot as he dodged left, leaving him yelping again. I turned to the direction the arrows were firing from, but saw nothing but open spaces.

Wait—

Along the ground of the cliffside, there were specific pocket markings, as if the dirt had been turned over. Risking the spare moments between an archer’s reload time, I could see that the motions continued in a semi-circle from one boulder to the other.

Exactly covering the section only I remained standing on.

My pupils were dilated as time slowed down. In his haste, Lucien’s feet ripped up the dirt from behind him, loose as it was, sending trickles of it throughout the air.

Another arrow just missed him, sending him skating further beyond the line.

A trap.

I went to run— I needed to get out of here— but another arrow stopped me in my tracks as it pierced my thigh. I screamed in pain, falling forward into the dirt, and felt it shudder under the force of my weight.

I howled in agony as I broke the arrow in my thigh, digging the arrowhead further into my skin; barely seeing past the blinding white pain of Lucien attempting to run back to me. He was stopped by dozens of arrows flying his way, keeping him trapped. Kaidan and Inigo were nowhere to be seen from my position. I couldn’t hear much past the tinnitus ringing in my head.

I was being targeted. By what? Or whom?

It didn’t matter. I needed to—!

The ground shook horrifically, just as predicted, and I turned my head to see the dirt collapsing behind me over the edge. I grabbed fistfuls of grass and dirt, desperately clawing my way across as best I could.

Lucien was braving through the storm of arrows, diving headfirst along the ground to reach out to me—

My fingertips grazed his—

He gasped in pain as his body retracted from being shot in the side again and again; eyes peering widely into my own.

And I let out a terrified scream as my body plummeted down, down, down below.

[tarot-by-e11e]

Hi dear, thankyou so much for opening this game it means a lot. And i really appreciate your time, energy and efforts!!

Okay so now I'm Jasmine, capricorn-sun, Virgo moon and taurus rising.

Answers to your questions;

Your Go-to Self-Empowering song

Tbh my way of motivation is so let myself realise and feel things that kind of like strikes this inner passion and dedication out. (Sorry for adding so many songs but i love these especially)

->"What does your dream life look like?"

Well for me my dream life looks like being able to do something big, like I wanna have my own name so that I can use that as an inspiration for others, i can Help people both financially and mentally, wanna go in a carreer that satisfies me both mentally and financially, i wanna change things just like do something different, i wanna have my own family with kids and a husband, i really want to be a mom tbh, wanna travel the world and be satisfied with mentally and fincially, being able to do charity and just complete my true purpose here. Like do something that people can look upto, help people in anyway I can and also live the life i truly desire. Have my own everything especially a House. There's a lot i could say but for now I'll just add the main things.

thankyou so much for doing the reading for me, i really appreciate you a lot. This is my first time participating so I hope my energy is good to you. 🫶🏻🤍✨🧿

Hi Jasmine,

Thank you so much for participating in my new ask game~

Your empowering playlist is so iconic! Definitely the motivating kind of songs~

You have such amazing and beautiful dreams!! I hope and wish you can achieve all of them!

The cards I pulled for you regarding the Encouragement of your Future Self are:

Strength, 10 of Wands, 4 of Swords

These are the things your Future Self wants to tell you:

“The reason you’re dreaming big because you know you have what it takes to achieve those goals in this lifetime. Knowing this, you’ll need to built your inner strength and confidence. You inherently know you can do it, so don’t give up.”

“You can’t control where you’re from however you have the power to choose to stay stuck or move out of the environment you’ve clearly outgrown from. Knowing this, you’ll know how and when to make bold moves and take calculated risks.

Learning how to manage your finances early on is a great way to have some financial safety net. So don’t give in to peer pressure by buying something you don’t need or want. You know how to reallocate your funds responsibly. Always remember, I’m proud by how much effort you put in to ensure we live the lives we enjoy in the future. Don’t give up, for the both of us.”

“Burn out is real yet it is avoidable, if you create a sustainable lifestyle that creates a healthy foundation for you and benefits you in the long run. Take outs are easy and affordable, but 10 years later, hospital bills might become too much for us to bear. So please prioritize sustainability over a quick buck?”

“Overtime is overrated. Don’t let yourself be stuck as a corporate slave. Find a way to make money work for you. Don’t rely on only one income. You know this, yet you struggle to believe that you are capable of this. Newsflash, you will find a way to live a healthier and more financially secure lifestyle. You need only to learn how to curate your life to your design.”

“Going on a vacation isn’t the end of the world. It doesn’t mean you’re lazy. You can’t keep overworking yourself to the point of fatigue and exhaustion. Hospital gowns don’t look cute on you. So do everything to learn to view rest as a vital necessity.

Your well-being and sanity are nonnegotiable precious commodities. Don’t waste them on things/activities that won’t make your life better in the long haul. It’s great that you’re hardworking and diligent. However, there’s a fine line between being of service and people-pleasing. You know you deserve respect and just monetary compensation. So act like it. If a higher-up doesn't see your value, leave. Your respect, time, and energy shouldn’t be wasted on those who don’t deserve it.”

This is all I can read for you.

Do let me know how this resonates with you.

(This reading is for entertainment purposes only)

[everlastiingiimmortals]

it's uncommon for baiheng to be so grievously injured in combat, as she's usually more cautious and capable of avoiding more painful strikes. however, today has been unkind to the foxian, and she now rests somewhat comfortably in her close friend's arms as they vacate the battlefield. victory came at the cost of her safety for a brief moment, and she now paid the price in full. the terror of nearly witnessing jing yuan get hurt even worse than herself, though, still grips her without mercy, and she's just glad she was able to knock him out of harm's way in time to spare him from the impact. her ears remain flattened against her skull as she hides against his arm. the initial reassurance of her being ' fine ' melts away as she trembles, desperately attempting to ground such reality into her own mind— she's okay. he's okay, too. the searing pain and the bloodied bandages that now wrap around her abdomen be damned, she made sure they were both alive, at the very least; that's all that truly matters to her. ( from @cloudskiff. <3 )

Unprompted. Always accepting! | cloudskiff

The stench of blood drowns out any other sensation as Jing Yuan staggers up the hill, grass slick and soaked with red and black gore alike. Once it hits the ground, blood spilled is blood spilled, regardless of the difference in origin, and regardless of whomever it once belonged to it makes the soil soft and slippery; his boots sink into the saturated dirt with every step and leave him struggling to maintain his balance.

Baiheng is not the only one injured; this battle was a particularly hard one, and Jing Yuan doesn't dare to look behind them to see the comrades they have to leave behind. Some are lucky, and can still be identified.

Many others are less so.

He hadn't seen the intervention until after he'd gotten thrown onto the ground; the claws intended to disembowel him tore through his leg instead... and Baiheng. He'd had no time to think, only act: a quick swing of his glaive, a twist, and then -- crunch -- the severed head of the borisin warrior was pierced clean through the skull, cleaving its brain in half to prevent, Arbiter forbid, any possible revival made by the borisin's neck stitching itself back together.

The fact that they were lucky to both still be alive is a sobering one. It's a further miracle that Baiheng's injuries hadn't been worse than they are. Thanks to her lineage, the bleeding had already begun to slow by the time the medics got to the field-- but the same couldn't be said of Jing Yuan's leg. He'd insisted that she be treated first, and that he be the one to carry her back. It was his fault she'd gotten hurt, after all. None of his subordinates dared to argue.

"Yingxing's gonna lose it when he sees the state we're in," he gasps, but the attempt at a joke is feeble at best, his voice wavering as much as Baiheng trembles in his arms. The sight of the blood that mats her hair, cakes her singed and tangled fur, and stains her clothes and bandages, brings the acrid taste of bile to the back of his throat, choking him in tandem with the scent of copper filling his nose. The next step forces his leg to buckle; it takes all his remaining energy to not collapse then and there and risk harming Baiheng further.

"Lieutenant--"

"I'll manage," he bites out, fixing his gaze firmly on the tent slowly coming into view just beyond the crest of the hill. Sticky, wet, crimson warmth seeps down his leg anew and darkens his already red trousers as black as the borisin blood clinging to the rest of his frame. The pain dulled by battle floods into his body without warning as the adrenaline drains away, taking the Lupitoxin antivenom with it. Agony lances up his leg with every step and he begins to tremble as violently as Baiheng, suffocating on the fear that roils around him, spurred by the mist of black that still drenches the field. He'd almost died. Baiheng had almost died. So many of their comrades had died. It could have been her. It could have been him. It could have--

"--J-just hang in there," his throat closes in on itself, forcing the words out in nothing but a hoarse whisper. Is he reassuring her, or himself? "We-- we're almost there. We'll be.. we'll be s-safe. I've got you, jie."

I've got you. I won't let you get hurt because of me again.