#I do love to dissect his psyche thank you so much for giving me the excuse!

[rist-ix]

What is Valtor (tbhtbh) love language?

I wanna say War Crimes And Violence for the shits and giggles, but this has made me think and I do think it’s a little more complex than that. My second answer would have been gift giving — as someone whose entire identity revolves around taking things by force, giving something freely to someone else is the highest gesture of affection imaginable — but even that feels more like a side affect than his actual expressions of love.

I think across all my fics, and Tbhtbh especially, Valtor's love language boils down to Control. In little ways, like in Sparked, where he has this constant desire to be the one who controls Bloom's studies and progress and overall access to information. Or in big and obvious ways in tbhtbh, like literally imprisoning her in a tower and regulating every detail of her day. (Paperwork too of course, Valtor has an obvious ego-boner for being the invisible force behind bloom's throne, of being needed)

You could probably dig really deep into that too, given that his relationship with his mothers consisted of almost nothing BUT control. His experiences with “””love””” are very much shaped by being physically dependent on the whims of his creators. I don’t necessarily mean that in an “that’s the love he experienced so it’s the only way he can express his own” way, because, well, he's not an idiot. He hates them and is very aware that their control only made him more eager to kill them. I mean it more akin to “he is resentful of the idea of being controlled, so now he sees every relationship as an arms race of controlling the other / he wants to compensate for that feeling of powerless then by feeling in control now”. Add to that that he is pretty much invulnerable at this point in tbhtbh, and his only remaining weakness is his emotional dependence on Bloom — which he is aware of. Just like he was aware of his mothers' ability to decimate him on a whim, he knows that Bloom could put him back into that mad state of agony should she die or escape again. A state he has lived in for three years and has no desire to return to. I just love to torment this little freak okay? He's so tormentable!!!

I think most of his other love language vocabularies tie back into his control issues in one way or another. As mentioned before, he likes to give gifts — I could go into an essay of its own about how that ties into his canon schtick and modus operandi, but I’ll stick to tbhtbh here.

He keeps Bloom's clothes and gives them back to her? For one because he knows she likes her clothes and misses the good old days, for the other because it reminds her of how those good old days ended — with him burning down Alfea. T-pose to assert dominance, yadda yadda.

He shows Bloom the garden? Well, that one gift she can’t take with her should she run away again. He controls Domino, the garden is ON Domino, if she wants to enjoy it she is by definition tied to this place and him.

And then there’s the entire rest of it, like the pretty room and the food and the fancy soaps and so on that are in her room. He is quite literally in charge of everything she has access to, and he doesn’t fail to remind her of that.

And, of course, we cannot forget that he loves to hear himself talk, so another way he expresses affection is by saying so. Constantly. He is being objectively cruel to Bloom in everything he does, but he never misses an opportunity to express how much he missed her, admires her, respects her prowess in combat and enjoys her company. Talk is cheap and he is a big fat liar when he feels like it, but in this he is 100% genuine and he knows Bloom knows that.

Great ask, Supreme!!! Sorry for the late answer, I already had like two paragraphs written a month ago, but tumblr deleted it and I got frustrated lol

[starleska]

Have you ever read the Twelve and Toymaker comic? It gives a few more interesting looks into how the Toymaker thinks that aren’t touched on in the novelisation. Most interestingly (and the main focus of the comic) is that the Toymaker is terrified of the universe outside of the Toyroom — which seems to be defined by its walls, in the novelisation the Toymaker puts particular emphasis on the walls with the candy-striped wallpaper lined with dolls — because it has no walls and because he doesn’t (didn’t? He does in the Giggle) have much control of it.

(‘‘The Toyroom is growing old, Doctor. So ancient that it no longer functions, as either prison or playground. The barriers between the Toyroom and the wider universe are growing thin, and it is this that has allowed you to wrest control of the toys, as my power wanes. Soon, there will be no Toyroom and I shall be loose in a wild, unforgiving universe, a cosmos with no walls. I can hardly conceive of such infinite horror.’’)

(‘‘You’ve given a madman access to the entire universe! With that sort of power, think what he’ll do!’’ ‘‘That’s just it, Clara, he doesn’t want the universe. Didn’t you hear him? He’s terrified of it. He can’t bear the thought of losing his control. He needs his safety net.’’)

And that he doesn’t tend to accept help unless he thinks he’s won it.

(‘‘So you’re just giving him the TARDIS?’’ ‘‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m building a new Toyroom!’’ ‘‘Inside the TARDIS!’’ ‘‘Precisely! I had to let him think he’d won. He’d never accept my help otherwise.’’)

And THESE PANELS lives in my head

(‘‘I had to help him, Clara. Can you understand?’’ ‘‘Let me see... a lonely God, drifting through space and time in his magical toy box? Yeah, I think I understand, Doctor, all too well.’’)

The EU tends to give the Toymaker more than his actual TV appearances (mmmm his rambles about being alone in the void and the cold in the novelisation). I need to dissect him and study him in detail so bad

hello love!!! oh my goodness thank you for sending this my way, because i haven't read this comic yet but the sections you've sent me have absolutely broken my heart 💔 what an interesting look into the Toymaker's psyche…it makes perfect sense. when you're a trauma survivor of any kind, especially if you grew up in a traumatic environment, the control you're able to have over that environment (no matter how minimal) is often all that keeps you together…you have to find comfort in that there and whatever small safe space you can carve out for yourself to survive. this has given me a lot to think about, because i wrote the Toymaker with what i think was the canonisation given when he spoke to the Sixth Doctor; that the Toymaker created his Toyroom after a very long time of aimlessly using his powers, when he didn't have a concept of gameplay. there seems to be some contention about whether or not the Toymaker is the creator of the majority of older games in the universe/the concept of games (The Giggle seems to allude to that?), or if he was inspired by other beings who created the games first. i like to think it's a bit of both; that he is the originator of many early games and gameplay rules, but it was the barriers between the voidspace (and his Toyroom) which let in the ideas from other beings 👀 the idea that the Toyroom is the Toymaker's island of safety against a universe which fundamentally doesn't make sense to him is so distressing 😭💖 i think a lot of us who've gone through difficult things can relate to that experience…of having your safe place slowly eroded as circumstances change and you grow older. but it makes sense!!! if he had no one, and the only thing he could cling to were the rules of his games (seemingly the only thing which brings him joy), the inherent chaos of the universe would be terrifying to him. no matter how much he tries to make it so, the universe just isn't a game with rules that can allow him to win: it's random, and brutal. is it any wonder that he has such tantrums when he loses, or when he perceives someone to be cheating? it isn't just that he's upset about losing or bad sportsmanship...it's the literal fabric of his entire worldview being torn apart. oh lord the bit about him not accepting help unless he thinks he's won it…how familiar does that sound to those of us who were traumatised early on? needing to 'earn' things like affection, shelter, food, etc. by working twice as hard, because we feel we don't deserve it inherently...the fact that the Doctor shows the Toymaker such compassion even though the Toymaker is such a dangerous, destructive entity is a real credit to their character. i really appreciate The Giggle replicating that and showing how the Doctor empathises with the Toymaker's terror by offering to play with him...i wish we'd had more time to explore the 'vastness that will never cease'. i don't think that good or bad mean nothing to the Toymaker...i think he's petrified of it. suddenly we understand why he's so boastful about his abilities, like an arrogant child...he's asserting himself against the universe as the only safety he's ever known crumbles. god. my heart hurts - that image of him sitting with the dolls of himself and the Doctor is killing me. i am going to go and read this comic and cry now, thank you so much 😭💖 yes please do!!!! your insight into the Toymaker is fantastic and i'd love to see more character studies of him 😭💖

[pastafossa]

hi pasta :) hope your week is going well so far !!

i dunno if you’ve spoken about this or been asked before (i apologise if you have) but i was just wondering how you always get matt’s characterisation so spot on?? if i didn’t know any better, i’d have thought you wrote the show. i can literally always picture him doing/saying the stuff you write <333

😭😭😭 This is like, an AMAZING compliment oh my god, thank you so much!

As for the question I'm not sure if I've talked about it before but ironically seeing it in my ask box triggered a discussion with sis. Like, I know there are folks who have a different take on Matt than mine. That's valid! So I don't want to be like... 'I did the research and delved and etc etc' because they do too. But eventually me and sis arrived at a conclusion that it's a few combos of things that makes Matt easy for me to click with:

A lot of psych classes in college that ironically I've used more for writing than anything else. This helped me understand some of how Matt's background of abandonment and trauma would potentially affect him and influence his coping techniques and behavior. I like learning psych stuff in general so that all wound up being an influence. I'll always recommend digging into this when working with characters!

I've watched Daredevil over and over and over and over and the more I've rewatched, the more I wind up picking up on new things and analyzing what Matt is thinking or feeling (bless Charlie for giving Matt so many little hints and fidgets and subtle touches of what Matt's internally feeling). This includes interviews, behind the scenes stuff, anything breaking down the why of Matt. I'm familiar with him at this point.

There are certain parts of Matt's character that I relate to incredibly strongly as a disabled person with chronic pain raised in the church, and also as someone who went through a long lonely period of depression where I felt very isolated, and then was afraid when I did finally make friends that they'd leave me. So. There's always an element with Matt that's like, 'ah I get it', this sense of resonation. I feel like that natural click with Matt really helped me when writing him, cause... been there, get the motivation, also dude needs to cry more and let that stress out, trust me.

This sounds weird but me and my sis love to break characters down, rip them apart to examine their insides. We love our favorite characters and talking about all their wholesome or badass elements, but we also gd love and have fun dissecting flaws, fuckups, the shadow self, character trauma, are they the asshole, is EVERYONE the asshole, what does this mean when he did this or that. The whole Pasta clan is immersed in that - Dad was a theatre major so got a lot of practice, Mom's loved lit forever, and we all have this tendency, so I got very comfortable very early with taking characters apart in a really honest way to figure out how and why they tick and what the writer/actor is trying to tell you. And since we've all seen Daredevil, and dad has also read a lot of the earlier comics, we've all more than once metaphorically laid Matt out on the table like a frog and dissected his character. I feel like having someone who's not only willing to talk about these layers with you, but also comfortable enough with you to kinda push back and go 'Or what if he was doing it because of this' or 'Ok yeah you love him but he was actually being the asshole here because *valid reason*' is important. Get you some allies who love to know why characters tick!

So basically lots of reading, really enjoying picking characters apart with fam, and familiarity, all mixed up in a bucket of 'Ooooh poor thing, I've been there and that was not fun. You really need therapy and maybe some antidepressants.'

[kanohivolitakk]

Miserix for the ask game!

This was one I really wanted so thank you so so much for asking it ;A;

First impression

I always liked Miserix. I discovered his charater via browsing on the wiki and reading about him made me interested in him. Since my language doesn't have pronouns I thought he was female for the longest time though lmao.

Impression now

My beloved strawberry dragon ;A;!!!! I love Miserix so much, he's easily one of my favorite characters and by far the most underrated in the series. In my opinion Miserix is one of the most interesting and intriguing characters in the series with by far one of the most compelling character journeys (even if we don't see much of it on-screen). Miserix is a tragedy, someone who was ousted from his position and ended up going mad as a result of his exile and isolation for thousands upon thousands years. He lost everything: his purpose, his identity and people to trust and was left with nothing but rage and vengeance! I find characters who lose themselves in their anger and vengeance such fascinating lost souls and Miserix is no exception! He's one of those characters I love to rotate in my head and dissect from all angles, trying to understand his psyche and mindset. And it's so much fun: Miserix is so fascinating to think about both with how he was in the past and how he is in the present. Not to mention how well Miserix fits thematically to the franchises themes, in particular on it's commentary of duty, identity and authority! He's an interesting character on his own and as a part of a larger world/narrative

In addition of finding Miserix's character so fascinating, I also love him for thow badass he is. And this isn't because of his powers and feats in story: The core of Miserix's badassness (at least for me) is his indimitation factor alone.Every time Miserix is on screen he brings so much tension to the scene he is in by his mere presence, he just has that type of charisma (for lack of a better term). Like Miserix doesn't have to do anything substantial, just by being present and saying somethign (even if it's just one line) is enough to get chills. Helps that he has easily some of the best lines in the series.

But god I love Miserix so so so much. I know that people dislike the Makuta as a species/faction retcon but I think it was worth it just for Miserix's character alone. His character does so much good for the series by introducing a fascinating major player into the series mythos who reflects some of the larger themes and ideas of the series really well!

Also the funny realization that Miserix is really similar to a favorite character of mine from another fandom but said character would hate him because he hates dragons and wants them all dead and...well..Miserix is a dragon so.

Favorite moment

This is hard since I like so many Miserix's scenes but none of them stand out as his absolutely best scene...probably his "official" introduction when The Federation of Fear freed him. It did a great job establishing his character that's also a great example of the intimidation factor I talked about earlier, while also giving him some really badass lines. Also him just telling Roodaka how she shouldn't puppet him is simutaneously funny and badass.

Honorable mention to that scene he arrived to Stelt and threatens a Steltian trader due to him not telling him Teridax's location. Mainly due to it having his best line in the entire series:

“I don’t have time for this. I have places to be, and bodies to break. I want you to send out a message to all your friends, to everyone who sails in and out of this island. Tell them Miserix is back, and when I find him, Teridax is dead!”

Like man, this line is such a perfect example of what I mean when I say Miserix gets the best lines! Its just raw unadulatered badassery and I love it!

Idea for a story

Post-canon/post-reformation where he gets to heal and rehabilate himself. I'm very much of the mind tht Miserix should have a chance at redemption: Yeah sure the guy was an angry vengeful dragon fueled by murderous rage against Teridax but he wasn't really a bad person himself nor did he bad things and thus shouldn't really be punished. I don't really like how some people in the fandom treat him like a rabid animal that needs to be put down when he isn't that far gone. He deserves to live and recover! Which is what I want: him slowly recovering from his trauma and pain, and him finding a community that will support and help him. Also get this dragon therapy or anger mangment at least he needs it so badly!

I'd also like to see a story about how Miserix was like before his exile. Miserix pre-exile self fascinates me to no end and getting to see what kind of person and leader he was before Teri ousted him would be great! Just to learn more about Miserix's values, how he saw his and the brotherhoods purpose in the larger MU and what his relation was to Mata Nui would be so cool! I need character studies on this guy and I need them now!

Unpopular opinion

Miserix is not boring! It annoys me so much when so many people in the fandom dismiss him, calling him a boring and unnecessary filler character that's an example of why the serials focus on superfulous new characters was bad.. when he's not. Yes, the serials have problem of ignoring the already established characters we already know and love, instead focusing on new players or bit characters fans weren't that attached to all because they wanted to focus on the grander world and have larger stakes...but this doesn't mean the new characters the serials revolved around weren't bad, and Miserix certainly wasn't! He is a geniunely compelling character with solid characterization and people ignoring him makes me so sad :C. Especially when they say he's just a violent angry dragon with nothing else going on for him. Sure he is a violent angry dragon, but he wasn't always like that and the story how he became who he is today is geniunely one of the better character stories in the series. Not to mention how he has a bit more going on with him than just angry murder dragon, even if you ignore his past self and focus on the Miserix we see in the story. Killing Teridax is his priority for sure, but there are times when he's able to prioritize on other things and thus doesn't mention his objective. See the scene where he interacts with the Hagah for a prime example.

Another thing that bothers me about peoples takes on Miserix is how people try to categorize Miserix on whether he was a "good" or "bad" person. One of the reasons Miserix is such a fascinating character to me is due to him being one of the few characters in the series that isn't really good or evil but somewhere in between. He was someone who was rigidly loyal to his duty and purpose in the universe, but he was willing to do some shady shit for accomplishing it. And when he became an angry murder dragon he only realy wanted to kill Teridax! He didn't care about hurting anyone else, only hurt them if they came to his way.

Also on a related note, I dislike Greg saying Miserix didn't care for his duty and was just happy of the power it gave him. Miserix is a much more interesting character if he geniunely cares about his job as the guardian of the universe, if he geiunely wants to protect the world and take good care of it to the point he sees it as his entire being rather than if he was as selfish and power hungry as other Makuta and was just content of his positiion of power so didn't try to take over anything.

Favorite relationship

Tbh none of Miserixs relationships are that "developed" in canon as I wish they were (curse for lategame Bionicle prioritizing over plot over character relationships) but I find his relationship with Takadox so fascinating. The little we know is that Miserix hired Takadox to act as a brotherhood spy due to him being "corruptible" and that Takadox most likely cared of Miserix based on how he looked at him when Barraki left that meeting with BoM. And that's just so fascinating. Miserix essentially taking advantage of Takadox is a concrete example of how he did some really fucked up stuff for the greater good. It makes me wonder how much Miserix affected Takadox becoming what we see in the story proper or if he was already a slimeball and Miserix just took advantage of that. Meanwhile Takadox seems to at least somewhat genuinely care about Miserix based on his reaction, which gives an interesting layer to his character. The idea that Takadox, someone who mainly sees others as toys or obstacles, would have had someone he actually loved and cared about is soo compelling to me and for that person to be someone as powerful and menacing as Miserix makes it even better. Their relationship has so much potential and I wish we had gotten to see them interact in canon. Oh well, at least we have fancontent and headcanons to satisfy those needs!

Favorite headcanon

His voice has an incredible vocal range and as such can vary his voice to sound between extremely feminine and masculine. His "regular" speaking voice he defaults to is either androgynous or does that weird thing where he manages to sound both feminine and masculine at once. It's hard to explain what I mean but basically speaking in a way that sounds like two people speaking at once.

[elegiesforshiva]

HI!!!!! firstly, i hope you have been able to sleep a bit better :( if not, i wish you more awesome cookie eating and zelda playing :) - kae pt. 1/?

i just wanted to say that when you sent out that very first ask about how lovely my messages were with all of your super cute emojis (i’m on my computer so it’s a little harder to send emojis haha) and how you would try to reply as soon as possible and just how much they meant- AHH my heart felt so full and my smile widened across my face!! you’re so cute!! i’m so happy they could provide a bit of brightness to your day. i hope they continue to provide you warmth like an infinite bonfire with toasty marshmallows ehehe you don’t ever have to apologize for taking the time you need to respond!!! (apologize appreciated, but totally not needed!!!) thank you for sharing the tidbits about your process with asks like these! i’m like that too where sometimes i just need to read it and let my brain and being sit with it and mull over it before i can properly feel up to hashing out something back. when i was reading your response to my messages and hm how do i say this - it makes me feel like i have lovely company right by my side … but through my screen LOL. i only hope that others continue to give you so much love and check in on you from time to time and continue to read your awesome stuff!!!!!! i really do appreciate from the bottom of my heart how much love you put in your response right back - from dissecting sasuke’s existence as a victim/abuser to into/sakura’s relationship. again, i just think you’re deeply intelligent, kind and in touch with your personal psyche and are able to articulate your perspective very powerfully, and it shows in the way you respond to people on your blog/in comments and through your writing! /I/ am so happy to mention all the awesome things - and there’s so many other things that i haven’t brought up, but truly Ghosts is such a gift because there’s so much to process in it, and every time i sink my teeth in it, i come out with something else entirely. sometimes i feel like i go into zombie mode but instead of saying “brains.. braaaiinnss” i just go “writing… sooo… GOOOODDDD” and i mean this in the best of ways! like it makes me truly speechless and flabbergasted LMAO again i’m SO sorry for being like “i’m so excited that you’re going to continue writing” i was silly and was just looking through the #sasusaku tag and then assumed the most recent one up was the most recent update and i had already sent my ask and was like uh oh i should scroll through the blog thoroughly to see what is ACTUALLY up - GAAAHhHHH. my apologies again about that TvT and UH HUH i mean this in the KINDEST way possible but literally you have NOTHING to thank me for. there is no patience i am giving you - i feel like not expecting anything from writers in terms of updates, etc. and being on their side when a fic might not get completed is the bare minimum and anyone who says otherwise can be sent MY way (where i will put them in fic 101 boot camp and tell them to write and hopefully by the time they’ve been booted all the way through they will realize how much time and work goes into writing for FREE. i am blowing my figurative whistle at them right now and wearing a shirt that says “kae’s fic writing bootcamp”). i could rant about how readers have no sense of empathy and only have a sense of entitlement yadayada but long story short - you’re awesome. don’t let anyone tell you otherwise - they can tell ME

i’m really sorry to hear that things aren’t so hot - and are only hot in a turd on fire kind of way. i really hope that you are able to get an apartment and get that quiet even if not to write, but just to have some peace in the palm of your hands. (as i’m typing this, i feel my heart beating and my fingers tingling as i try to put into words what i want to say - interesting. kinda freaky. kinda magical. i don’t think it’s quite how i wanna word it but this is what i’ve got). i don’t know if you believe in a higher being out there - weirdly enough i don’t either, but i as a random stranger on the internet, do promise to you that you’ll get there. There is a safe space that you belong to that you will be able to come home to, where you can sleep and meet your dreams and wake and have them walk with you. Your hopes for how i'm doing brought another big smile to my face. i’m really lucky in my life.tThere’s a lot of people that i love and i am loved by a lot of people and for the first time ever I’m really aware of that and it’s a really cool feeling. Sending all of my love right back to you - I’m blowing some kisses your way. MUAH MUAH MUAH <3 - kae pt. 10/10

I hope you know this was an absolute blast to read the first time and it’s no less great as I’m rereading. I’m sorry I definitely don’t have the time right now to give as much love as you gave me so long ago. Thank you for sending this, I need you to know I’m feeling AAAAAAALL the hugs through the screen rn, and have been since you first sent this 5 million years ago lmao. Thank you for them!!!!!!!  🥰 🥰 🥰 🥰

I hope you didn’t actually feel too bad or embarrassed, I still love hearing about how much people adore Ghosts!!! It was my absolute heart for so long and I never get tired of hearing how much people like it!!! I am really glad I could give what I did of it...thank you for loving it as much as you have, and for giving me that love directly in my ask box too...💘

Fandom culture is honestly such a ride right now?? It’s changed so much, and I want to stab western consumerism in it’s small nutsac because I know it’s contributed to a lot of the shittier parts that have been manifesting, including the entitlement of readers from fic authors like you mentioned. I really don’t know how younger creatives are keeping up with these pressures. I don’t know how anyone is. 

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH *falls onto my knees and sobs* I forgot how hopeful about my life I was when I last responded to your messages.......pretty sure the crash from those turn of events is what made me wanna dig a hole and never come out of it again. Yeah, the apartment isn’t happening but thank you for the well wishes and all the sweetness though—you’re literally so obscenely kind lmao I love how fun and lighthearted your energy is in these, you’re a darling and I already know anyone who has you in their life is very lucky to. 

Thank you again for all the praises, well wishes, all the love...There was honestly so much positivity in here lmao. It really means a lot to have someone say this to me, it startles me receiving it sometimes. I want you to know I’m giving it all back tenfold!!! I genuinely find a lot of my readers from Ghosts come from a higher level of emotional intuition and processing, probably because of the heavy and dark nature of that fic, but it’s just so cool to see me moving the exact sort of people I instinctively love and admire with my work. I love the arts. I love them endlessly... Sending hugs and kisses kae!!! Sorry for less emojis this round, I’m on desktop too! And also sorry for the long ass wait, I really hope you’re doing amazing these days  💕 💞 💓 💗 💖 🥰 🥰

[coffeewithcutcaffeine]

Nobody move because I am celebrating the entire month. Tiffany and Ethan are back and I am ready to bask in the sheer beauty of these two souls — as well as in your marvellous and magical writing that steals my breath away once more. Witnessing the magnificence that is your storytelling fills my heart with endless joy. 🥺️❤️️

First things first, I will always be utterly in love with how you set each and every one of your scenes — the mood, the feelings it invokes in the reader, the way you use the perfect words to capture the essence of what is unfolding. And this was no different because immersing myself into the hustle and bustle of the chaos that is Edenbrook on Monday morning nearly gave me fifty shades of anxiety skdjsksjfkshd and of course, Dr. Ramsey once again perfectly embodies my spirit animal in these instances!

“Mondays suck!”

Striding across the hustly-bustly pediatric ward, Doctor Ramsey overhears an agitated boy explicitly expressing his annoyance.

This literally has me wheezing on the floor sksksk.

It is the way that you always craft Ethan so masterfully, perfectly grasping the very spirit and core of his character while managing to build on it and expand him in such depth that it makes one's head spin. You truly are one of the writers that understand him like no other, that never see him as just another sexy and hunky love interest but give him the love and care you would to a living and breathing human being (and just the same goes for my beloved Miss Tiffany who is a delight and a goddess). And that is why he feels so real to me, almost to the point you could cross the street and meet him somewhere. He is a tricky character but always remains safe in your hands.

A pang of dejection pierces Ethan all of a sudden when a long-forgotten fragment of the past he buried flashes through his mind. Before its splinters reopen old wounds, he swiftly pushes the unwanted memory back to the unexplored depths of his psyche.

As soon as the elevator door closes behind Ethan, the confined space becomes his temporary resort. He takes a deep breath, rubbing his sunken, aweary eyes to relieve the tension—an aching remnant of the sleepless night. The exhaustion begins to mess with his senses, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary; permanent fatigue has been his steadfast companion for more than a decade of his career as a doctor.

Proof 1,087,095,538,183 why I love and admire your works to the point I would dissect it word for word and write a whole dissertation on it. You explore every nook and crevice of this man. He does not escape your keen eye and your brilliant mind. (Also, these paragraphs make my heart shatter, but I am a glutton for angst and pain and suffering, so my little dark heart thanks you for this. 😌)

“You wouldn’t even know what to do with it.”

“No need to worry, it’s not contagious.”

It's the trademark dry sense of humour for me, and no one does it like Miss Hilde! 🙏❤️️

Ethan acknowledges that he must ignore the tempest raging inside his chest, but he’s unable to focus on anything else other than the energy she exudes, luring him in like a siren’s song.

Another thing that I adore so much about your writing is that you make Ethan sexy in an irresistible, refined way. I have grown quite fed up with the alpha macho types that always make my skin crawl, but your Ethan is just not that nor ever will he be — he is respectful of her even when he often breaks her heart which kind of makes you want to hit him because who would ever hurt such a wonderful woman that Tiffany is?, he never looks at her as if she were a piece of meat but rather as pure magic conjured up in front of his eyes, you can tell he is obsessed with her but not in a possessive way; it is with pure devotion and awe. Even when he lusts for her, it feels so sacred. Long story short, this is a man who will never fail to make my knees buckle. 🥺️

This isn’t the first time the infamous Doctor Terminator is utterly powerless in the face of her—the most intriguing mystery he’s tempted to unravel for some godforsaken, unfathomable reason.

I get it, Ethan. She makes my heart skip a beat, too. ❤️️

As though pulled by a magnet, his feet carry him towards the room while Ethan shuffles through a myriad of excuses plausible enough to start a conversation. A good excuse, however, requires an elaborate background story, supported by a carefully planned follow-up—both of which clearly out of his reach at the moment.

IT'S THE WAY THIS IMPLICITLY SHOWS HE IS LOWKEY NERVOUS AND YES!!! We love a perfectly composed man who loses his shit at the sight of the actual goddess.

The visual representation of me in this moment:

Long onyx locks neatly tamed in a sleek bun reveal the exquisitely sculpted contour of her features, its sharp edges so far removed from the overpowering warmth hiding in her sparkling emeralds and tenacious kindness dripping from the corners of her full mouth.

Seeee?!?! This is what I am talking about; the way his attraction borders — no, transcends — worship. He is mentally sinking to his knees at the sight of her.

Loud, treacherous voice snarls inside his mind like a beast at the gates of his sanity.

Is that all he’s become? A disappointment, a fraud. One of the best diagnosticians of the generation, the esteemed Dr. Ethan Ramsey is consistently failing to do his job. His own mind appalls him—once the most treasured asset, his pride and joy, now compromised, useless, struggling to cut through the veil of his inappropriate longing.

We love it when Ethan Ramsey hits his personal mental multiverse of madness. Make him suffer a little more. 🤭 (Not me showing my love for favourite characters by craving to see them dragged through mud and blood and tears and—)

This isn’t staring, this is a comprehensive risk assessment.

Is that what we call it these days? 😂

The short clack doesn’t make her flinch, though she straightens immediately, a glimmer of surprise shining in her riveting eyes when she looks up at the intruder and deems him worthy of a smile.

"deems him worthy of a smile" — Someone should tattoo this on that fool's forehead so that he remembers how goddamn lucky he is whenever he looks at himself in the mirror.

“Before you drop your sarcastic grenades on me: no, I have not found my true calling elsewhere. I have not been slacking up either. These aren’t even mine, so insulting someone else’s artistic skills would be totally inappropriate.”

It's the sarcasm and intellect for me that makes me lose my wits for good. Ethan Ramsey can you fight. 🤨🤨🤨

“Early Pollock must cost a fortune or two. How come such rare artworks ended up in your possession?”

“You made a pretty solid assumption, Doctor Ramsey, but I have to disappoint you: early Pollock had an affair with surrealism and his style was way more compositional than this.”

*makes screeching noises* I did not expect to see that, but I assess it, I approve it, I fall in love with them even more.

Also, I am always and forever in love with the intellectual level of your writing. Your pieces always scratch the right spots on my brain every single time. You don't just mention they are intelligent — it drips from every single word they utter, from the way how deeply they contemplate the world around them.

Miss Addams and her irreplaceable wit painfully remind him of the golden rule he often pretends doesn’t concern his giant ego: do not speak on the topics your knowledge of is insufficient.

When she outsmarts him >>>>>>> She is so hot for that.

Doctor Addams gasps theatrically and presses her slender fingers to her mouth, lowering her head slightly. “What gave me away?”

She has me blushing!!!

Except he wants this. He needs to feel her.

Even though the mere ghost of an idea may bring his demise, he cannot break free, imprisoned by the torturous vision of her vanilla-scented skin gliding smoothly against his.

I don't even know what to add other than I am making velociraptor sounds. What the heck. The tenderness of the moment, the sheer intimacy, the beauty of how simple and yet meaningful it is. The impact it makes, it literally crushes you under the weight of how moving and beautiful it is. These sentences are my kryptonite, the tsunami that crashes into me.

The sky didn’t tear in half, there was no divine retribution exacted upon a sinner like him, no sign of punishment fit for his appalling misdeed.

No but the sheer poetry of your magnificent writing, the way you weave together such magic with mere words. It's just one sentence, but the heaviness of it on one's heart, the wide spectrum of emotions and inner turmoil this captures... This goes onto my list of the best quotes I have ever stumbled upon in literature. This is everything to me.

“The balance between mockery and flattery is a bit too delicate to be used in a professional environment, don’t you agree, Addams?”

Like he's not doing that all the time. 🥴️ Liar, liar, pants on fire, indeed.

„An attending befriending his intern? I can’t see that happening.”

Ooooh, my darling... If you knew the ways you befriend each other soon skdhskfhskdjf you would not believe your luck, mister.

She mimics the military salute, right hand raised sharply, touching her forehead, fingers and thumb extended and joined, palm facing down. „The colossal pain in your ass reporting for duty, sir.”

No but I love it when she has her silly and playful moments. This woman is such a multi-dimensional, real-like being, I am utterly obsessed with the woman you have created through Tiffany. A girl can only hope to ever reach just a bit of her brilliance. ❤️️

At last, Doctor Terminator’s perpetually grim face blooms with an ear-to-ear smile, so wide and genuine that Tiffany blinks once, twice, most probably questioning whether the exceptionally unusual scene in front of her is real.

Ooooh, after what feels like an eternity, we get to see him smile! 🥰️

“You should smile more. You…” Her plush lips part when she trails off, then sucks in a breath, as if to stop the profanation of their professional relationship jumping on the tip of her tongue from slipping out recklessly.

Hell must have frozen over: his fearless protégée, strong-willed and sharp-tongued at all times, befuddles him with this uncommonly demure armor plate she has put on. The most challenging obstacles and cases fail to break her down, stress and pressure never threaten her admirable strength, and yet there she is—bleeding from her own sword.

This drills a hole in my HEART she can be so soft and precious, I am weeping. 😭❤️️

She freezes, visibly offended, but still intent on avoiding his gaze. “I know. I want to.”

Ramsey, move your ass, I am marrying this woman right now.

Wasting no time, Ethan scoots to the exact place where she stood prior to this moment, soaking up the delicious cloud of fragrance, unable to resist sniffing the air like some sort of disgustingly pathetic creep.

We love to catch this man red-handed. 🤭

Beyond dispute, Ethan Ramsey is not an easy man to defeat. The King of Quiet Desperation wears his broken crown with arrogance, each burnished gem representing his sins, though the ultimate one hasn’t brought him down yet.

He doesn’t have many vices—she is all of them.

How am I supposed to carry on with my life after these words? How am I supposed to simply close this app and move on with my day when I have witnessed the pearly gates of heaven with this masterful prose.

Thank you, my beloved Hilde, for gracing us with this masterpiece — although is there a work of yours that would not be ever worthy of this title? These are the moments when one can feel so blessed to have eyes and the capacity to absorb and bask in the beauty of your writing. And still I think a single word will never do justice to the magic you create through your storytelling. Thank you for an absolute literary feast, for making me forget the world for a while so I could curl into myself and quickly reread this wonder to type up a reaction that will never fully convey the emotions I feel right now. Thank you for giving me the pleasure to once again rediscover my love for great love stories, for making me find a bit of love in my heart for Ethan's character again. Thank you for once again letting us witness the sheer wonder that is Miss Tiffany. Hands down, they will always be one of my most cherished couples.

Hopefully you grace us with a piece of heaven again. Meanwhile, I will be waiting patiently and rereading your exquisite works some more. 🥰️❤️️

Vices & Virtues - Ethan Ramsey x MC

Dr. Ramsey's weaknesses don’t disturb his everyday life often, but when they do, a certain intern happens to always be involved.

Book: Open Heart, Intern Year (between Chapters 5 & 6)

Warnings: language, my rusty writing, a truckload of pining

Rating/Category: Teen+ / fluffy angst

Author’s note: [insert the ‘surprise, bitch’ & 'it's been 84 years' reaction GIFs]

I’m eternally grateful for the very few angels still waiting for new E&T content—this one’s for you 🫶🏻 Hope you’ll find a moment to read my word vomit and enjoy the mess (aka my writing). I appreciate every comment and like more than words can convey!

Edenbrook is indigestible on Mondays. Though Ethan Ramsey doesn’t believe in whatever ‘curse’ the human kind attributed to an absolutely random day, he cannot deny the madness that usually ensues upon the beginning of each week. An inexplicable air of post-weekend malaise does tend to envelop the globe, and Boston is no lucky exception.

“Mondays suck!”

Striding across the hustly-bustly pediatric ward, Doctor Ramsey overhears an agitated boy explicitly expressing his annoyance.

Ethan’s Monday has been a doozy of a day as well, but he’d rather keep his troubles six feet under, preferably in concrete. Nevertheless, a drop of sympathy implores him to stop near the patient’s room and watch the scene unfold at a safe distance.

The child blows a raspberry at the nurse preparing him for a corridor-long wheelchair ride, clearly upset about the surgery he’s being taken to.

A heavy sigh followed by the unmistakable giggle of a certain copper-haired radiologist interrupts Ethan’s first break during today’s demanding shift.

“It’s not Monday, kid. It’s just your life.” Doctor Herbert whispers into Ethan’s ear, a large cup of raspberry tea in her hand. “But at least it��s going to be all rainbows and candy again in three weeks.”

Meanwhile, the situation has escalated quickly: a river of tears streams down the young Monday-hater's cheeks now, his concerned mother shooting pleading looks between her shuddering offspring and the strict nurse trying to efficiently finish the task so she could move on with her hectic schedule.

A pang of dejection pierces Ethan all of a sudden when a long-forgotten fragment of the past he buried flashes through his mind. Before its splinters reopen old wounds, he swiftly pushes the unwanted memory back to the unexplored depths of his psyche.

“I don’t think he’s heard you.”

“Gee, Doctor Ramsey, share some of that cheerful attitude with the rest of us!” Liz nudges his side, almost spilling her hot beverage on his foot. She mouths an apology, but his unimpressed gaze falls elsewhere.

“You wouldn’t even know what to do with it.”

“Thank God your interns still haven’t caught that grumpiness you’re suffering from.”

“No need to worry, it’s not contagious.” He gives a dismissive wave of his hand, partially to announce his departure, then continues the journey to his primary destination: the harmonious sanctuary of his private office.

As soon as the elevator door closes behind Ethan, the confined space becomes his temporary resort. He takes a deep breath, rubbing his sunken, aweary eyes to relieve the tension—an aching remnant of the sleepless night. The exhaustion begins to mess with his senses, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary; permanent fatigue has been his steadfast companion for more than a decade of his career as a doctor.

There’s a crack in that orderly, borderline clinical life of his, as big as a closed fist, and he’s slowly beginning to realize its detrimental consequences.

But none of that matters now.

What matters is that his desperate efforts to bend Naveen’s stubbornness weren’t in vain; there’s still hope—a notion Ethan isn’t exactly on board with, but he puts his trust in science, and beyond any doubt science will point him in the right direction. As long as there’s time, he’ll do whatever it takes to save his mentor, his friend. He’s confident he can do it, he’s capable of diagnosing and curing whichever mysterious illness keeps Naveen captive.

He’s the only one who can do it.

A double shot of deep roasted espresso shall help this cause. Or, at the very least, make his Monday slightly more endurable.

Loud metallic thud followed by a streak of bright fluorescent lighting annunciates the arrival. Empty, windowless corridor welcomes his nostrils with the odious mixture of staleness and antiseptic, typical of the office wing on the sixth floor. He operates on autopilot, mindlessly trudging ahead, marginally consoled by the aura of eerie quietude. Blissfully oblivious to what the so-called Manic Monday has prepared for him next.

All his rational thought and peerless logic evaporate into thin air the second his drowsy gaze zooms in on the old waiting room under renovation currently withheld by the recent budget cuts. Within its hoary walls, a familiar sylphlike figure catches his eye, unwittingly staking her claim to his undivided attention.

Ethan’s dire need of coffee has vanished as well; he’s wide awake now.

Smiling to herself, a sense of pride evident in the alluring dimples carved into her cheeks, Doctor Addams arranges a stack of papers atop a massive couch protected by thin plastic sheet.

Ethan acknowledges that he must ignore the tempest raging inside his chest, but he’s unable to focus on anything else other than the energy she exudes, luring him in like a siren’s song.

This isn’t the first time the infamous Doctor Terminator is utterly powerless in the face of her—the most intriguing mystery he’s tempted to unravel for some godforsaken, unfathomable reason.

Everything he knows about Tiffany Addams has been collateral damage from their close proximity and the isolating nature of their work. Against better judgment, Ethan has stored every single crumb of information thrown at him, like it’s a treasure guarded in the vault of his mind, acquiring new pieces and adding them to this clandestine collection.

With certainty, there’s a new element behind that glass wall, ready to be studied in secret.

As though pulled by a magnet, his feet carry him towards the room while Ethan shuffles through a myriad of excuses plausible enough to start a conversation. A good excuse, however, requires an elaborate background story, supported by a carefully planned follow-up—both of which clearly out of his reach at the moment.

Fully aware of the possible disaster awaiting inside, Ethan steps into the room quietly, leaning against the doorframe with arms crossed over his chest. A sophisticated scent of sultry vanilla wrapped with notes of luminous lavender pervades the space, handily smothering the musty odor of the old hospital furniture stored here for at least a year.

Heedless of his presence, Tiffany remains locked in her own bubble. She’s seated on the couch, browsing through a large leather bag with a lot of noise.

Long onyx locks neatly tamed in a sleek bun reveal the exquisitely sculpted contour of her features, its sharp edges so far removed from the overpowering warmth hiding in her sparkling emeralds and tenacious kindness dripping from the corners of her full mouth.

That stark contrast surely must be a part of her allure, he reckons. Not that there’s any evidence at his disposal—he’s her boss, for fuck’s sake. But the set of cardinal rules applying to the situation doesn’t stop him from looking, nor does it dilute the poison seeping from that singular contaminated thought…

Loud, treacherous voice snarls inside his mind like a beast at the gates of his sanity.

This isn’t staring, this is a comprehensive risk assessment.

Regardless of the pretext, watching her feels almost perverse, but he’s too transfixed to listen to his voice of reason hopelessly trying to redirect him to the path of impeccable propriety.

He can’t look away. Can’t move either. She'll notice him…Eventually.

Is that all he’s become? A disappointment, a fraud. One of the best diagnosticians of the generation, the esteemed Dr. Ethan Ramsey is consistently failing to do his job. His own mind appalls him—once the most treasured asset, his pride and joy, now compromised, useless, struggling to cut through the veil of his inappropriate longing.

Perhaps instead of triggering a spiral of destruction, he should address a more pressing matter: why is there a splotch of purple paint on her cheek?

Better late than never, his focus switches from Tiffany to the negligible surroundings. On her left, spread across the polythene-covered couch, lie a couple of ridiculously abstract drawings, colorful and confusing, each of them made with the skill and precision equal to a six-year-old if he has to guess.

Suddenly, it all clicks.

Along with his tongue.

The short clack doesn’t make her flinch, though she straightens immediately, a glimmer of surprise shining in her riveting eyes when she looks up at the intruder and deems him worthy of a smile. Her lush, rosy lips curl up generously, greeting him with a beam so dazzling his body heats up like bare skin kissed by the blazing midday sun in the middle of summer.

The older doctor doesn’t return the cordial gesture—he has a reputation to uphold and his bruised dignity to save. He quickly takes refuge in the shadow of his perfect decorum, dexterously covering the unjustifiable act of treason committed by his very own carnality.

Tiffany, however, is undeterred in her mission to melt his callous indifference with the disarming sincerity of her vivacious spirit.

“Before you drop your sarcastic grenades on me: no, I have not found my true calling elsewhere. I have not been slacking up either. These aren’t even mine, so insulting someone else’s artistic skills would be totally inappropriate.” Her hand waves over the drawings.

“I wouldn’t dare to insult a respected artist and credit you with their art.” He retorts flatly, then spills the aforementioned sarcasm like the Lord intended. “Early Pollock must cost a fortune or two. How come such rare artworks ended up in your possession?”

His comment inspires a peal of infectious laughter; the powerful melody of Tiffany’s unadulterated amusement conquers the room, all but obliterating the chronic sternness of Ethan’s face.

He cannot help but bask in the glory of this unexpected outcome: he’s the reason behind the glorious, velvety sound; she’s laughing because of him.

“You made a pretty solid assumption, Doctor Ramsey, but I have to disappoint you: early Pollock had an affair with surrealism and his style was way more compositional than this.” She points at the glittery mess splashed in the center of one of the pieces, not so subtly suppressing another wave of laughter.

Miss Addams and her irreplaceable wit painfully remind him of the golden rule he often pretends doesn’t concern his giant ego: do not speak on the topics your knowledge of is insufficient.

Lustrous vivid-green eyes fixed on him and the urgency he’s facing at the moment leave him no choice but to quickly shake off the embarrassment and adapt his reaction accordingly.

Reluctantly, Ethan clings to brutal honesty. “I’m not an art connoisseur, so I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

“Oh, trust me, you would.”

A smudge of amethyst retrieves the diagnostician’s attention for one split second, demanding a seamless change of topic.

“I presume you spent your lunch break on the pediatric ward again, trying to start a new art movement.”

Doctor Addams gasps theatrically and presses her slender fingers to her mouth, lowering her head slightly. “What gave me away?”

Ethan considers revealing the truth through another shot of bluntly delivered sarcasm (something he would have done in any other case), but his body betrays him, subconsciously drawing near Tiffany.

“Apart from the excited chatter on the second floor? Nothing.” He replies, straining to keep his impeccable composure just as she bites into her lower lip tantalizingly in what appears to be keen anticipation.

A few risky steps later she’s at his arm’s length, and he decides to measure that dangerously short distance; akin to an audience member of some ludicrous soap opera, the diagnostician observes his hand move towards the intern’s face in slow motion, as if that bloody limb wasn’t his and the falsely innocent intention swarming inside his incisive, virtuous mind filled him with repulsion.

Except he wants this. He needs to feel her.

Even though the mere ghost of an idea may bring his demise, he cannot break free, imprisoned by the torturous vision of her vanilla-scented skin gliding smoothly against his.

Much to his bewilderment, her breath quickens just as much as his; the evergreen forest in her eyes bursts into flames when their gazes meet, burning his hesitation down.

She wants this too.

Nothing could convince him to refrain from acting on this forbidden desire now, not a single reasonable thought seems to be charged with a cogent argument.

So he lets his thumb brush down her right cheek, down the lick of wet paint smeared across her warm skin, taking most of the dark purple off the silken canvas along the way.

The sky didn’t tear in half, there was no divine retribution exacted upon a sinner like him, no sign of punishment fit for his appalling misdeed.

“Nothing. At. All.”

Nothing but the silky smoothness of her face, rapid rise and fall of her shapely chest, and fiery heat searing through his veins…

Inevitably, the unbearable tension crackling between them dissipates in a flash when Tiffany snorts at the sight of his acrylic-stained thumb, a soundless ‘fuck’ escapes her mouth as she sprints to find a prompt solution for the paintmergency, stripping him of time to ponder on what the living hell just happened.

He takes advantage of the moment, immediately scolding himself, forcing his thoughts to flee from the crime scene concocted by his newly depraved brain.

“Must be your enviable instinct of an outstanding diagnostician then.” Cheeky as ever, she casts a playful eye over Ethan while rummaging through the drawers, summoning him to focus on her.

Within a long minute, she scuttles back to him, stretched arm offering one of the two pieces of paper towel sprayed with hand sanitizer. They use it to rub the paint off their skin. As soon as they’re done, Ethan quips back. Sort of.

“The balance between mockery and flattery is a bit too delicate to be used in a professional environment, don’t you agree, Addams?”

Unintimidated by the tricky question, Tiffany lifts her shoulder in a half shrug. “It all depends on the intelligence of the person you’re speaking with. You’re ultrawealthy in that department, so I assumed you wouldn’t mind some harmless friendly banter.”

“We’re not friends.” The speed with which he retaliates might have just sealed his fate. Deep down, he doesn’t quite believe those words himself, but there are rules to be followed unconditionally, rules that cannot be broken under any circumstances.

Dark, noble brows accentuating the breadth of her radiance crease together in sheer bewilderment. He can almost hear the scoff she’s choking back when she sees right through the cone-shaped hole in the thick wall separating them.

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“We’re getting there.” She nods vigorously, openly mocking his well-meaning mendacity with lips pursed into a thin line and narrowed eyes surveying him diligently.

„An attending befriending his intern? I can’t see that happening.”

A winning grin lights Tiffany’s features up. „It’s already happening, whether you like it or not.”

The more she pushes forward, infuriatingly so, the more he resists, fortifying his helpless defense.

„Would you be kind enough to explain why on Earth would I let it happen?”

“It’s beyond your control.” She shakes her head. „There’s nothing you can do now.”

He frowns at her, takes her fierce expression in, feigning utter disinterest in the mesmerizing spatter of freckles adorning her glowy skin.

Is the intensity of his glare too revealing? Can there be a flash of ardent curiosity swimming in his eyes and acting up against him?

„You’re awfully confident about all the wrong things, Rookie.”

She mimics the military salute, right hand raised sharply, touching her forehead, fingers and thumb extended and joined, palm facing down. „The colossal pain in your ass reporting for duty, sir.”

This display of her goofiness, derived from the smidgeon of irreverence he’s found himself covertly fond of, successfully penetrates his ruptured facade.

At last, Doctor Terminator’s perpetually grim face blooms with an ear-to-ear smile, so wide and genuine that Tiffany blinks once, twice, most probably questioning whether the exceptionally unusual scene in front of her is real.

The way she gapes at his mouth almost drills a hole in him—she’s that awestruck, like a pious believer who stumbled upon irrefutable evidence confirming the foundation of her faith.

“You should smile more. You…” Her plush lips part when she trails off, then sucks in a breath, as if to stop the profanation of their professional relationship jumping on the tip of her tongue from slipping out recklessly.

She wants this too.

“It suits you.”

Ethan’s cheeks erupt with disgraceful heat, resembling an awkward teenager attracting his crush’s attention for the very first time—the feeling almost as mortifying and inexcusable as the unprecedented lack of any snarky response.

As if the worst was yet to come, Tiffany keeps on staring at him with such exhilarating wonder and sureness he doesn’t quite know how to proceed with such abundance of emotion meddling with his stoic approach.

She wants this too.

For a fleeting moment, the abyss of his solitude shrinks significantly, purple paint filling the crack on the illusory contentment with the life he’s chosen, just as her piercing gaze invites him further into the impossible fantasy.

Then, a jolt of sobering guilt runs along his spine in a rude awakening, at the same time when Tiffany realizes the gravity of her daring statement and its perilous implications.

“I, erm…”

“Uhm, my…”

Ethan smashes the uncharacteristic uneasiness descending on them, a benign half-smile and barely perceptible nod encourage her to continue. “Go on.”

Her gaze flickers towards the hall, a tinge of crimson reddening freckled porcelain. “My break is almost over. I should head back to the ER.”

Hell must have frozen over: his fearless protégée, strong-willed and sharp-tongued at all times, befuddles him with this uncommonly demure armor plate she has put on. The most challenging obstacles and cases fail to break her down, stress and pressure never threaten her admirable strength, and yet there she is—bleeding from her own sword.

This supremely fascinating token of hidden vulnerability sheds new light on the beguiling collection of contradictions making her whole.

He examines the younger doctor pacing around the room as she gathers her belongings up, stuffing her capacious bag with them. Half-way, she spins to address him directly and points at her cheek.

“Am I…Still…?”

“No, you’re alright. The paint is gone.”

“Splendid.”

As she goes forward, assembling her patients’ drawings into a neat pile, and—rather intentionally—ignoring Ethan, he readjusts his tie and dives headfirst into the pool of her discomfort.

“Addams?”

“Hm?”

“You don’t have to dedicate such a vast portion of your free time to helping others.”

She freezes, visibly offended, but still intent on avoiding his gaze. “I know. I want to.”

“What I meant...Is that you need to add yourself to the equation, Tiffany.”

“I’m doing just fine, thank you.” She scoffs, the barely noticeable defensive undertone reverberating in her firm answer not entirely convincing for the diagnostics virtuoso.

His evaluation is disrupted by the abominably loud beeping of Tiffany’s pager. Their eyes finally clash for a brief shootout with no winner before she shuts the damn thing up.

“Well then. See you later, Doctor Ramsey.” She blurts out hastily without giving him a second glance and turns round to rush out of the room, but stops in her tracks near the door.

Something sparks inside that brilliant mind of hers, reigniting her boldness. Dense curtain of long lashes flutters at him over her shoulder, inky-black and luxurious akin to the finest lace, the signature magnetic smile dancing on her lips again—this time infused with genuine concern. She inspects his countenance for a still moment, inch by inch, crease by crease, until her head falls to the side like she has just uncovered his biggest secret.

“Consider locking the door in your office and getting some rest.”

“Giving me advice isn’t included in your job description.” He sneers, the unnecessarily harsh huff of his disapproval concealing the alien sentiment spilling inside his chest.

Somehow it’s still not enough to antagonize her.

Her eyes bore into his audaciously; the gentleness gleaming from elusive emerald green, reminiscent of safety, offers shelter he despairingly seeks, but cannot take. “But it’s nice to have someone watching out for you, isn’t it?”

Somehow they might have more in common than one would think.

Careful not to expose the motley collection of feelings stirring his blood, Ethan draws in a long breath and slips his hands into the pockets of pristine white coat, perfecting his posture, with tense body standing even taller, as though to appear completely unaffected by her undeniable appeal, more unrelenting.

He’s been looked at countless times, yes, but this must be the first instance where he feels truly seen.

It is indeed nice.

The attending doesn’t say a word, for he would have to agree with the intern. She smirks triumphantly, accepting the tacit disbelief etched on his face as conclusive proof of her diagnosis.

Instead of claiming victory through verbal manifestation of her sass, Doctor Addams attacks him using a different weapon: a provocative wink. “Just think about it.”

With a graceful twirl indicating goodbye, his Rookie struts out, leaving a dizzying mist of her divine scent behind.

Wasting no time, Ethan scoots to the exact place where she stood prior to this moment, soaking up the delicious cloud of fragrance, unable to resist sniffing the air like some sort of disgustingly pathetic creep.

Thankfully, there are no witnesses to this particularly revolting descent into madness.

No witnesses to the beginning of his fall.

Mind over heart has never sounded more delusional than now, that his hard-won empire of spotless reason stands on the verge of crumbling. But he’s not giving up–he can’t give up. There’s too much at stake.

Beyond dispute, Ethan Ramsey is not an easy man to defeat. The King of Quiet Desperation wears his broken crown with arrogance, each burnished gem representing his sins, though the ultimate one hasn’t brought him down yet.

Having put the mask of nonchalance back on, Doctor Ramsey turns off the lights and stomps into the empty corridor—his hand still carrying the heavenly softness of Tiffany’s skin like a fingerprint, like a sin, shaky fingers curling at the very thought of the contact—then begins a seemingly casual stroll to his office.

He doesn’t have many vices—she is all of them.

_____

A/N2: Hope you enjoyed this bad boy ❤️ Sorry (not sorry) if it's too long and repetitive...I literally can't shut up when it comes to these two fsksjdkfjs Plus it felt really good to find my writing mojo after such a long time!

PS. If there are any typos and/or mistakes...No, there aren't lol I'm fighting COVID at the moment, so my brain's a little foggy. I had this fic sitting in my drafts and decided to just go with the flow while I'm feverish and can't see any faults sjfskfkjf I'll get back to everyone waiting for a reply when I'm more coherent. Stay safe, lovelies!

[wellhellotragic]

These Wounds Won't Seem to Heal 2/3

Summary: It’s not her fault. She’s still new and doesn’t know. He’s not flawless. Not anymore. He’s got scars, ones she’s seen first hand. Ones she helped tend to. His body is covered in them. There’s a thin red line where he took a bottle to the face during his early beat cop days. There’s another angry red mark on his torso from where he was stabbed with a knife in his ribs. The one where he had his hand slammed in a locker as a teenager has long since faded, only the barest hint remaining, only visible in just the right lighting.

There’s two oval scars now too. One in his stomach and one on his chest. Those are from the worst day of her life.But none of those scars compare to the ones he carries on the inside. The self-inflicted cuts he makes to his soul never quite healing over. He blames himself.  It’s not his fault.

There’s a scar on her soul now too. One he left. A piece of her heart forever missing.

Rating: Mature (mostly for language)

A/N: No, you’re not crazy. The chapter count grew a little. My sincerest apologies guys (especially to @searchingwardrobes​.) I have a lot of stuff going on in my personal life that’s taken most of my attention. I really didn’t mean for this next part to be so delayed, and honestly, time has become an illusion at this point and I didn’t even realize that 6 weeks had passed. I was thinking closer to 3, so thank you for staying with me on this little journey, and hope you enjoy.

If AO3 is more your jam...

His jaw is killing him and he’s realized all too late that it was a mistake not taking the ice from Emma. But he couldn’t. He can’t have anything to do with her. He can’t even look at her. It’s just too damn painful in every way fathomable.

Sometimes, his heart aches to be near her, to see her smile and pretend for just a moment that it’s before. That everything is still fine and that they’re going to meet up for drinks later. To imagine that they’ll go back to one of their apartments and put on a movie. That she’ll fall asleep on his shoulder and he’ll move so that they’re spooning each other on the couch. It’s on those days he turns to the bottle.

Other days, the very thought of her sends him into a rage and it’s all he can do not to throw her desk out of the bullpen. He never should have agreed to take the Captain’s position. He should have gone back to the narcotics division, far away from her and the ghost of Liam imprinted into the very fabric of his chair.

He shouldn’t have done a lot of things.

He shouldn’t have gone to the Salty Winch tonight. He knew that it was her birthday, try as hard as he might to forget. And he wasn’t planning on going. But something in his subconscious had him driving there against his own better judgement. He was just going to peer in through the window, just go get a look. To see if she was happy.

And now he’s got a bruise on his face, he’s down a detective, and he’s going to have to call a cab in the morning to take him back to the pub to pick up his car.

He’s also got a text message from Archie telling him he wants to see him tomorrow before lunch.

He goes to bed, but sleep doesn’t come until hours later.

The next morning is a disaster. There’s two empty desks instead of one, paper work is piling up. Everyone is tiptoeing around him and he can see them watching him out of the corner of his eye. He can hear their hushed whispers, and as much as he doesn’t want to have to schlep all the way down to headquarters, he needs the retreat from being the star of his own tragedy.

Archie’s office is on the third floor, and it isn’t lost on him how many offices he has to pass on the way to what should be a private visit. But then again, nothing about his life has been private lately. He knows that everyone still talks about it. For weeks his portrait graced the cover of every newspaper in town, sometimes next to Liam’s departmental photo. The news was there that night to film him being carried to the ambulance on a stretcher. His name was on the tip of everyone’s tongue as the investigation and trial drug on.

His detectives don’t trust him, and he knows it’s a problem, as well that he should care, but most days he just can’t find it within himself to give a damn. He buries it all as deeply within himself as possible, just going through the motions. He’s gotten pretty good at ignoring the ways he feels, most times, but Archie is going to want to drag it all up again, especially after last night.

The office has been redecorated since the last time he was there for his psych evaluation and mandated therapy to determine if he was capable of returning to work. There are more plants in every corner of the room. No doubt the cricket’s way of cheering everyone up while he chirps in their ears. Not that he has anything against Dr. Hopper. The man may very well be the only reason Killian is even still human at this point.

“Killian, thank you for coming. Why don’t you have a seat?” He doesn’t want to, the black leather is worn and cracked in places, pinching the back of his legs even through his thick cotton pants.

The man just watches him, waiting to see if he’ll open up, to make the first move, but Killian’s never been much for spilling his guts. He’s not sure talking would even help at this point. Everything has become so twisted that no emotional epiphanies can untangle his problems anymore.

“So, I think you know why I wanted to see you.”

“Aye.”

“My next appointment called in sick so I have all day to wait for you to say something.

Killian sighs, ready to give in to the inevitable, although he’s not completely sure which part of it Archie wants to get into, and he’s treading water trying to keep as much of his life off limits as possible.

“There’s nothing to say really. One of my detectives was drunk, mouthed off, and hit me. His suspension was well earned. I’m not sure there’s anything more to it.”

Archie watches him for a second, tilting his head as he listens to Killian, and before he even opens his mouth, he knows that the cricket chirping in his ear is about to dissect the evening.

“Killian, I think there’s a lot more to it. Clearly there’s been some resentment and animosity building between the two of you for some time more, or August wouldn’t have brought it up.”

He hates this, the way Dr. Hopper is always trying to poke his way through Killian’s brain, trying to unlock doors with a metaphorical paperclip. A one size fits all therapy tool that with enough finesse can open everything he’s trying to hold back.

“I’ll admit, there’s no love lost between the two of us. We’ve never gotten along, even before. But August has never been one to make smart well thought out choices and last night was just another in a long line of mistakes he’s made.”

“Long line, or tipping point?” This isn’t going to work. He isn’t going to let Archie trip him up. He’s not leaving anymore crumbs to follow. “I know you don’t want to discuss this again, but I can’t help but think all of this stems from your relationship with Emma.”

“I don’t have a relationship with Emma.” He doesn’t mean to spit out the words as harshly as he does, it’s just a gut reaction and it’s too late to play it off. “She’s my subordinate, that’s it.”

“You mean she was your subordinate.”

It pisses him off more than he expects, partly because somehow this man miles away already knows that Emma has transferred when he only found out himself a few hours before, but also because it brings up emotions he doesn’t know how to handle.

“Aye.” All he can do is nod and clinch his jaw, which in turn reminds him of the punch he took last night. He’d give almost anything for some Motrin right now. Better yet, some morphine so he can fall into a sleep where none of this is real.

He’s not really sure what’s happening. He knows he’s in the hospital. He can surmise as much by the beeping machines and the blood pressure cuff that’s about to sever his arm clean off. But his eyes are too heavy to open just now, and he doesn’t remember coming to the hospital. He can’t remember why he’s here.

Until he tries to move, twisting his torso just enough that pain shoots clear up to his eyeballs and he screams out in pain without even realizing it.

There’s a nurse in the room, telling him to relax, and he thinks he hears another voice from the other side of the room, but now his arm is cold and he doesn’t even have time to think before the world goes dark again.

His mouth is dry. He tries to open his lips, but they’ve melding together and his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth. His body feels so weak and heavy, and it’s a struggle to speak, but even with just a slight moan, he feels his hand squeezed and he knows it’s her just by the way she fits with him. The bed shifts and he hears something new in her voice. She’s timid, like maybe if she speaks too loudly he’ll blow away in the wind. And to be honest, at this point, he very well may.

He forces his eyes open, blinking as much as he can to clear his vision. She’s standing at his side in a Boston PD sweatshirt that’s two sizes too big - pilfered from his closet after a night off of bar hopping turned into a movie at his place - and her hair is pulled up in a messy bun. It might very well be any other Saturday morning, except for her face. It’s puffy and red and she’s clearly been crying.

Emma Swan doesn’t cry. Ever.

He should be worried about himself, but in that moment, he can only think of her and how miserable she looks.

But then the blood pressure cuff goes off again, reminding him of where he is, and everything comes rushing back. The fight with Liam, the sound of shots ringing out, Emma begging him not to die. He told her he loved her, and he’s angry with himself for waiting so long. It shouldn’t have been a death bed confession. He shouldn’t have put so much stock in Liam’s approval.

Liam.

Liam.

Liam.

He barely gets his brother’s name out before he sees more tears running down her face, and she’s apologizing over and over again. There’s something about the way she says it, like it’s somehow her fault, like she was the one that fired the fatal shot. The pain returns and so does the morphine.

He wakes again, groggy and weak. His eyes are too heavy to open, but perhaps that’s better. Maybe if he can’t see the world around him, he won’t have to face everything to come. Liam’s always been there, even when everyone left, Liam stayed. He doesn’t know how to continue on in a world without him. He doesn’t know how to do anything now and all he can think about is how it should have been him. How he started the argument, he distracted Liam. How he was the one that raised his voice and alerted the killer to their presence.

He’s in the middle of his downward spiral of self loathing when he hears muffled voices come closer, likely entering his room from the hallway. They speak in hushed whispers as they move around the room, flittering about all around him, lifting his blanket and touching his feet, fumbling with his hand. He still can’t muster the strength to open his eyes, much less his mouth to tell them to leave, so they continue, completely unaware of the way he hears them. Unaware of how they are turning his life upside down.

“Why does this guy look so familiar?”

“Oh, you mean other than the fact that his face is all over the television?”

It’s silent for a bit, and he thinks that maybe they’ve gone finally, but then he hears a tapping noise, like fingers angrily hitting letters on a keyboard.

“It’s really sad actually. Remember Astrid down in the ER?” She waits for the other voice to agree before continuing. “I had lunch with her today and she was telling me how our guy here is cop. Came in with gunshot wounds, along with his brother. They were both in really bad shape. Whale was able to save this one but the brother was too far gone.”

It’s the first time he’s heard the words spoken allowed, and although intrinsically, he knew that Liam was gone, the words are a nail to a coffin.

The voice continues, telling the other one how they were both in shock, having lost so much blood, giving vivid details that tear at him to his very core, but it’s the end of the story that he latches to.

“So there’s nothing they could have done then?”

“I guess we’ll never know. I mean, by the time the ambulance brought him in, he was already gone, but from what Astrid overheard, I guess their back up got there late. One of them ran after the shooter and the other stayed to help and couldn’t save them both.”

“Damn, I can't even imagine. This guy is gonna have some hell of survivor's guilt.”

But it wasn’t guilt that overcame him that night. Instead, it was rage that crept in, filling the hole in his heart.

“So you still blame Emma then?”

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t even look up from the mark of the coffee table in front of him that he’s been starting at for the last few minutes.

“Killian, the mind is a tricky thing. You were still in shock, heavily medicated, and mourning. Is it possible that maybe you somehow misunderstood what the nurses said that night?”

That has his attention, and not in a good way.

“Are you insinuating that I’m a liar?” He leans forward, voice steady, focused on Dr. Hopper and the way he’s now squirming in his chair. “Or do you simply believe that I’m just crazy?”

He’s off the couch, steady quick strides for the door. He’s had enough judgment for the day, and needs to leave before he crams Archie’s notebook down his throat.

“That’s - Killian! That’s not what I meant.”

He’s halfway out the door, but something in the man’s tremble gives him pause.

“I- I just. I spoke to Emma, to August too, after it happened. I just mean that maybe you all have different accounts of what happened that night, and until you sit down and finally clear the air, none of you will be able to heal.”

That has him barking out a laugh. The very idea of either of them being able to make anything right at this point? It’s absurd.

Two weeks pass without much fanfare. August’s desk still sits empty, a magnet for other detective’s paperwork piles, but the seat stays cold. Emma’s desk on the other hand is now occupied by a short stodgy old bald man who seems to be compensating for his hair loss with a long salt and pepper beard that covers half of his face. The man has been nothing but surely since his arrival the week before. He’s managed to piss off most of Killian’s bullpen, and it’s almost laughable how quickly his life has gone totally shits-up on him, but then he remembers that Leroy is going to be August’s partner when he comes back and that’s almost enough to satiate Killian’s frustration.

Almost.

Because August isn’t coming back, at least not to his division. There’s an opening in Narcotics, Killian’s old team, and while is not a transfer Killian would ever normally agree to, it's not a typical assignment. Despite his reservations, he knows August is good as his job and the best fit.

That’s the only reason he finds himself walking back into the Salty Winch at 10:29 on a Tuesday morning. August isn’t there yet, which doesn’t surprise him in the least. The truth is, he doesn’t honestly even know if the man will show at all, never having responded to his message.

It’s odd being back in that building, the incident from a few weeks ago notwithstanding. The derelict bar has always been special to him in a way he can’t explain, like an extension of himself. Liam brought him there after his first collar, saying a celebration was in order, and that one night somehow became a long standing tradition. Looking at the scuff marks near the well, he remembers Ruby’s attempts at clogging in 6 inch stilettos and the pub owner nearly crying at the sight of his ruined wood floors. He remembers Lance throwing up in the peanut bucket at the end of the bartop at his bachelors party.

But taking a seat in the booth in the back right corner, all he can see is her face the night they met.

It’s been a damn good day, and each sip of the rum in his glass dances it’s way down his throat, warming him on the way down. He’s buzzed to be certain, but hasn’t had nearly enough to be drunk, and Will intends to remedy that as soon as possible if the third round he just ordered is any indication.

They’d been after a small time dealer for months, and on the day they finally go to bust the guy, they somehow luck into nabbing one of the largest suppliers in the city by sheer dumb luck. But no one needs to know that. Not when he and Scarlett have just received public commendations from the commissioner himself. Not when he’s wearing his medal on his shirt like a goddamn first place science fair ribbon. Not when his name is being floated around as someone to keep an eye on.

And sure as hell not when the most gorgeous creature he’s ever laid eyes on has just walked into his pub and sat herself four bar stools over. To say that he’s gobsmacked is an understatement. It’s dark, but even in the dim pendant lit room he catches a glimpse of her eyes. They’re emeralds, sparkling as the light from a glass bottle being poured reflects in them.

He’s so infatuated with this woman in her tight red leather dress that he’s apparently missed an entire conversation, only his name on repeat is enough to pull his attention back to his mates.

“Oh bloody hell, I think we lost ‘em boys.”

There’s a heat overcoming his face and he’s not quite sure why. He’s left with many a fine lass from this very bar on other, much less eventful nights. His boys are no strangers to the effect he has on women, but perhaps this time it has something to do with the effect she’s having on him. This enchantress that’s beguiling him.

Perhaps the last shot was a mistake.

After some merciless teasing he’s out of his seat, making his way to the empty spot on the other side of her. He waits for a second, casually watching her send an email from the corner of his eye before making his move yelling out to the bartender.

“Robin, can I get my tab? I need to head across the street and file a complaint.”

She’s startled, her eyes flitting between him, the bartender, and her phone.

“Oh, what for?” Robin walks over with a towel and glass in hand, and a coy grin on his face. This may or may not be the first time he’s used this ruse before.

“Well, this woman here has just stole me beating heart right from my chest.”

She groans and rolls her eyes, and while it may not be the first time he’s used the line, it’s certainly the first time it’s ever not been reciprocated.

“Please tell me that line doesn’t actually work on girls.”

He can’t help but smile despite how epically he’s failed. And while she’s clearly not amiable to going back to his place with him tonight, she doesn’t outright reject his offer to buy her drink, or even a second one after that.

Somehow the two of them move to the booth in the back. He learns that she’s from the 42nd, a vice cop just coming from her last shift. The red leather dress is a departing gift of sorts from her supervisor, by way of a prostitution sting. She’s transferring to his precinct tomorrow and just wanted to come get a feel for the area before her first day.

They talk until the bar closes somehow, and when her cab pulls up, he takes his shot one more time. This time she laughs him off and tells him she’ll see him tomorrow. He gets his own cab, and even though he’s going home alone tonight, he’s still got a shit eating grin on his face when he walks through his apartment door, her laugh echoing through his head like music.

August arrives in true fashion, twenty minutes late, and Killian isn’t sure if the man is just being disrespectful or trying to somehow create an illusion of control over the situation. Either way, he’s not happy, although he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit to himself that he’s happy that the man won’t be around for a while.

Boothe has always rubbed him the wrong way. Even before Emma, August had a way of pissing him off, always shooting off his mouth and trying to one up him. In truth, his annoyance turned to hatred when he learned of how close the man was with Emma. They had inside jokes and secret looks, and Killian always felt like an outsider. Eventually he learned that August was practically Emma’s brother, having been raised together in the foster system, but hearing of how Boothe was the one that introduced Emma to her first love, and man that led her down a path of petty crime, it only solidified in Killian’s mind that August Boothe is an arse of a man with no redeeming qualities.

Which is also the exact thing that he needs right now. The two of them sit in that back booth, discussing the matter at hand. The narcotics division has been trying to catch the supplier of pixie dust, a drug that’s recently made its way to Boston from New York. They have a fairly good idea who the importer is, but they haven’t been able to catch him thanks to a mole in their ranks. One of their own has been tipping off Walsh Nikko and their captain is fairly certain it’s Jefferson.

A man by all rights is mad as a hatter. Killian had only dealt with the man a few times, but undercover work had taken its toll on Jefferson and he returned from a botched assignment with demons in his soul.

Killian explains everything to August. How Captain Humbert needs him to come in as a disgruntled cop, how he needs to break rules and make his distaste of the Boston PD known. That it shouldn’t be difficult given their recent encounter and his suspension.

He knows it’s working when snippets of August’s ranting about his character get back to him.

______________________________

His adrenaline is waning and his stomach turns. He barely makes it away from everyone on scene into a back alley before the remainder of his lunch is spilling out of him. He’s never been so terrified in his life, and nothing is right. Nothing makes sense, and he’s still hurling his guts out. There’s blue and red flashes of light coloring the clouds above them as nearly all of Boston has turned out to the scene.

There’s going to be mountains of paperwork, but that’s tomorrow's problem. Right now, he just needs to get out of there, far away from the flashing photography bulb and the interviews. Away from the smell of blood, the screams he swears are still echoing in the building. He just needs to get away.

He’s not sure how he ends up here. He’s not even sure how he knows that address, but his feet have somehow brought him here and he knows that he can’t keep holding everything in. He can only pack it all down so much before the latches break and everything explodes around him.

Dr. Hopper doesn’t even seem surprised to find him standing outside of his brownstone, just motions for him to come inside. Archie goes to get him a towel, which he tries to refuse. It’s only at the man’s instistance that he realizes that he has blood on his jacket, and that’s his breaking point.

There’s blood on his jacket, and despite scrubbing it for the length of the car ride back to the precinct, he’s standing on the steps to the 56th and it’s still there. He’ll likely have to burn the damn thing. As remissed as he is though to discard his favorite article of clothing, it’s not the jacket that causes him pause.

He’s thought about this moment a lot of the last year. Wondering if she will be happy to see him, if she’ll care at all. There was a distance between them before he left, a chasm of his own doing, and when he told her he was leaving, he couldn’t miss the look in her eyes. A flash of betrayal and distrust, and while she’s the only thing that’s carried him through the last eleven months, he knows the chances of her thinking of him in the same way are lower than he cares to admit.

He’s thought of it so many times, playing it out over and over in his mind. How he’s going to find her and finally confess his feelings. Of how he can’t keep pretending that friendship with her is enough from him, that he wants more. How the random kisses they share are like knives to his heart showing him of what could be but isn’t. He’s played it out so many times, but never was he standing before her in a blood stained jacket.

But now that she’s there and in his arms clinging to him just as strongly as he is her, he couldn’t care less. She’s soft and warm and still smells of cinnamon just as he remembered, and her touch soothes the monsters whispering inside him. He felt broken the whole time he was gone, but she’s mending him.

He finally breaks away, he needs to tell her, he needs to just get the words out, but before he can, Liam is behind him ordering him to the bullpen, and now isn’t the time. It’s not a rushed conversation to have with people yelling his name from another room.

“I, we’ll talk later, ya?”

She nods, and it’s only then that he notices the faint tears that have been freshly wiped away.

They never talk about it though.

Liam takes him out to dinner, just the two of them, and by the time he gets home, the monsters are back, reminding him of all the things he’s done. Of what a villain he is now, and he knows that he’s not good enough for her.

His monsters are back, screaming, drowning out anything good and all he sees is the dark. Archie brings him a glass of rum, telling him after the night he’s had, he deserves it. And they talk. For the first time, Killian lets the walls down and tells Archie about all of it. All of the dastardly deeds he did while undercover. About how everything that has happened since is his fault, it’s because people like him don’t deserve happy endings.

Archie rebukes everything he says, but it does little to ease his conscience. He leaves Hopper’s house feeling slightly lighter though having unburdened himself, and possibly hopeful for the first time in years. But he’s still got a lot of work to do, and he knows it’s going to take time.

His suitcase is packed before it ever even occurs to him to call his commander and tell him that he needs a sabbatical. He expects pushback. Hell, he expects the man to tell him he’s fired, but his commander understands and tells him to take whatever time he needs. That they’ll find a place for him whenever he’s ready.

Liam’s boat is still in the harbor just as he remembers it. She’s been neglected the past two years, his own fault to be certain, and she’ll need some work as well, but she’s sea worthy enough, and he can’t be in Boston anymore. The sails are unfurled and he’s just pushing off when he pulls his phone out of his pocket, making one last call.

She doesn’t answer, he knows she won’t, and perhaps that’s why he’s calling her now, when he knows she’s busy. Instead he leaves a message, telling her that he loves her, that he always has and always will, but that he’s broken. That he needs some time to clear his head if he wants to be a man deserving of her heart.

He’s a bastard and a coward.

And then he’s gone.

[dxsole]

dex where do u get ur ideas, how do u write ur bios. HOW are u so creative and cool!!

😩 BRUH, I'M GONNA CRY 😩

Always accepting,,,lovely, sweet asks

kldgklfdnkl this is very nice and I truly wish I could formulate a better (and much shorter) answer than...whatever this next part is going to be but fkjgjkf thank you so much, I'm really, truly grateful that you??? Think my oc ideas are neat?? And that I'm cool?? :'3

But, uh, to answer the question where do I get my ideas/how I go about writing bios somewhat well, I think I just have to talk about the types of characters I'm drawn to?

I'm sure I've mentioned this on some ooc post ages ago but I sort of have three types of characters that I write:

Characters heavily based on another that I admire

Characters based in ancient mythology

Characters that are loosely based on a general vibe/feeling

An example of the first would be Leslie! Leslie is very closely based on Jimmi Simpson's character in Psych, who is a criminal profiler that helps them with their Yin Yang killer case. He's a little odd, incredibly bright, and has a demeanor about him that I really fell in love with. Now, Leslie doesn't act exactly like Mary but it's really like a starting point— Mary clearly doesn't have many friends in the show. He's obsessed with the Yin Yang killer case even when Yang was caught, determining later that she had a partner the whole time. His drive, his job, it eats away at his life a little. And I liked the idea of taking those bits and trying to analyze it; what sort of life would Mary have had that led to his eccentricities, his career path, and this way of solving crimes? A lot of ocs I have that are based on specific characters are really just me taking a character I already love, dissecting their movements, their motivations, etc. into figuring out how they may have come to this point in their lives!

Hugo and Donny are also both based on their characters in Inglourious Basterds but, instead, living in this modern time, away from conflict. Donny still has his arrogant bravado, humor, and strength but now he's a flirtatious, playboy boxer with a love for comic books. Hugo still has his quiet, solemn demeanor and deadly skills, but he's a rat dad and spends his days knitting. These little details about them that I added just make them feel a little more relatable, in my opinion! Like nothing about Hugo Stiglitz suggests that he would knit...but when I had the outline of Hugo's character in front of me...I knew I wanted to give him some softer traits because I felt there could be something inherently good and sweet within him, like he was chasing normalcy in his life. So he got a pet dumbo rat, all sweet-faced and big-eared. And a knitting hobby. And a love for cozy sweaters. It's just a way to help his inside feelings come out in a very visceral way (especially seeing as my Hugo himself doesn't express himself verbally a lot!).

Now, for mythology ocs...I just really love mythology! Lots of the stories from around the world are so unique and interesting and yet they all have the same sort of goal; all mythology is based on trying to describe the world we live in as well as the human condition. Iona is a great example of this; Keres are meant to be these harpy, hag-like figures that feast upon fallen soldiers. In my mind, I think it's both a nod to the real fact that all manner of vultures and birds would feast upon the dead on battlefields as well a nod to the concept that war can be so ugly. 

A warrior's death is usually seen as so noble and tragic and almost godly to the ancient Greeks and yet there is a specific monster that will attack those same blessed warriors who gave up their lives. When creating Iona as a Ker, I wanted her to be less physically monstrous and more of a bad copy of humanity. Like a lesser god trying to recreate a human but it's just...a little bit off. Her voice is wrong, her eyes are wrong, her innards are wrong— but she is still good. Because the one thing about Keres is that they were labeled as bad but they never actually harmed soldiers...they waited until they died to feast on them. Keres are meant to be the personification of violent death but are not inherently violent themselves. Again, it's just that dissection of the source material to come up with different conclusions that I can then use to develop a bio!

Lastly, I have many ocs that are based on specific vibes that either a person’s face, a movie, a song, etc. gives me that I feel strong enough about to create a whole story out of. I like to bring up Buck for this— now I’ve actually only seen Walton Goggins in Django: Unchained and The Hateful Eight...in one he has a small part where he’s a terrible, terrible human being and in the other he’s just a bit of conniving, loud mouthed, little asshole. Neither are really characters that I used to influence Buck (they’re all assholes but for vastly different reasons!); but seeing Walton Goggins talk and act...I really liked his vibe! I thought he did great in both roles and really thought his face was interesting (I am very particular about faceclaims, I know what I like when I see it!). 

When I saw him I really asked myself “okay, so if he wasn’t an actor and I met him, what would I assume he would be from what I have seen of him so far?” and I immediately thought conman. His name is Walton Goggins...it’s not a typical name. I would initially think it’s made up. His teeth are so white and perfect, it feels like he’s telepathically trying to sell me a time share. The costumes I saw him wear, the taunting, drawling way in which he speaks, the receding hairline and expressive eyes— it all said conman to me. This person lies for a living and has no problem doing it! And thus began the dive into Buck’s bio! I even, after looking more into Walton Goggins, found a photoshoot of him with a bible and found out in a show he was on, he was masquerading as a preacher at some point and I loved that angle! It felt very him! And so that was added to his story as well.

When it comes to actually writing bios for my characters, I mostly just think about how much do I want my fellow rpers to know about this character and how can I explain it in a way that makes sense for them??? Kidd’s bio I adore even if it doesn’t...actually explain a thing about him, really. It gives us the backstory as to what he’s doing, it explains that there’s obvious something strange going on with him, but it also allows me to reveal what exactly that is in threads rather than in the bio. 

However, with Harrison’s bio, he’s not hiding anything. Harrison would want to focus on what other people might have heard about him (ie; that perhaps he’s a little bit of a bore) and use his own bio as a platform to explain why it’s just not true! 

And then we have someone like Remington, who high-jacked his own bio because he would! He’s vain and pushy and he would knock aside his own biographer to start yelling about how cool he is! And as you’ll see with my new oc (he’s dropping later today! :3), his bio is really a snippet of an interview he’s done. It’s how the world sees him and not exactly indicative of who he really is— but as an actor, the big question is; does anyone really know him? Or do they know his roles and what they read on TMZ? I wanted that disconnect from his reality because when you’re actually talking to him in a thread it’s like...meeting a celebrity; he might disappoint you or happily surprise you! Who knows!?

skjdbfkjsd again, thank you so much, you probably weren’t expecting a novel but I do like talking about my silly lil’ process! <333

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I thought about WandaVision

Y'know, it's kind of crazy to think that it's been over a year since we've been given any content involving the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Marvel Studios announced so many great movies, on top of new TV shows that actually impact the story, way back in the summer of 2019. But then 2020 happened. Resulting in everything, and I mean everything, we were promised getting pushed back for another year. So, when it was finally announced that the series WandaVision was, at last, ready to be released, fans were both excited as well as skeptical. Because the first thing that would reintegrate us back into this franchise would be a show about how two Avengers are stuck in a sitcom. It might be new, long-awaited content, but it also doesn't sound all that interesting. Could a story involving two characters who have yet to stand on their own be enough to carry a brand new adventure? Well, for eight whole weeks, fans were given that answer. And personally, I will admit that WandaVision might have been better than anybody could have ever expected...for the most part.

(Final spoiler warning if you haven't seen the show yet)

WHAT I LIKE

It Just Goes: This is easily the best way the series could have started. We are given no context about what is going on. We're just shown that Wanda and Vision are currently stuck in a sitcom, and that's it. By making it a mystery, fans are given this sort of interaction with the series as they find clues and come up with theories about how and why this happened. Sure, some assumptions were more far fetched than others (did people think Mephisto was confirmed just because of one misinterpreted line involving the Devil?), but it still makes the show a ton of fun to watch. Plus, even when we're given answers, it's only tiny pieces of the puzzle. We're always given a chance to figure out the bigger picture, resulting in an image that is, I'll admit, somewhat satisfying to see. Just as long as you ignore the crybabies who get upset that their favorite theories turned out to be wrong.

The Homages are on Point: I also love how straight the cast and crew play with the idea of two superheroes being stuck in a series of sitcoms. Everything they use fits in the era each sitcom takes place in. With things like camerawork, set design, special effects, acting quality, tropes, and even theme songs, everything works as a proper homage than just having two episodes in black and white and the rest in color. Each new sitcom that Wanda and Vision are rebooted in feels so genuine, to the point where they seem like they could be actual shows that could have existed. Seriously, my dad showed me stuff like The Dick Van Dyke Show when I was a kid, so trust me when I say that the very first episode nails the style that it's honoring. Not only is it charming as all forms of hell, but it also works in making these moments when characters break from the spell (get it) all the more jarring and even disturbing at times. Because when you're so keen on watching what seems like a fun and cheesy sitcom, you feel a bit unsettled when a character suddenly acts in a way that's a tad foreboding. Still, it's fun to watch and is easily the central hook for what makes this show work.

The Comedy: The homages also nail the comedy that came from each type of sitcom. The jokes fit with each period, from the cheesy and charming 50s to the cynical and dry 90s and early 2000s. It's another thing the writers play straight with, and I think it works. The only jokes made by most stories like this are just pointing out that these serious characters are stuck in a silly sitcom. Instead, the writers tell jokes that work for the period it's in, and it is all genuinely funny if you're used to those types of goofs and gags. If you didn't laugh, that's because the comedy isn't trying to reach out to you. It's reaching out to the people who actually watched these types of sitcoms. Or, in my case, the type of people who had their parents show them these types of sitcoms. And even then, I still think there are these lines and deliveries that are still funny even if you don't get the joke. For example, there's this brief moment with Vision and a toy baby that got a genuine chuckle out of me for how absurd it was. I wasn't expecting to laugh that much, but on top of the many surprises this show gave, being funny was definitely one of them.

“My husband, and his indestructible forehead”: He...hehe...hehehehahahaHAHAHAHA! AH! HA! HA! HA! 

*Slowly starts sobbing*

>Squeaks<

I see what you did there.

Paul Bettany as “Vision,” “Vision,” and Vision: Can we give Paul Bettany a round of applause for basically playing three different characters, each with their own varying levels of emotions and purposes? Because goodness gracious, this man is a champion! I've seen tons of people praise Elizabeth Olson for her performance as Wanda, and to be fair, she does do a fantastic job...aside from one blatant issue (which I'll get into later). But as great as Olson is, Bettany still deserves some credit. Throughout most of the series, he has this level of comedic-timing that I didn't even know he was capable of, by going ham or just having a dry wit. Seriously, was someone going to tell me that Paul Bettany can be funny, or was I supposed to find that out for myself? On top of being hilarious, Bettany delivers such raw emotion that none of us would have ever expected from this character. That screaming match “Vision” has with Wanda shows the very first time that any version of him has ever been angry, and Bettany does a great job at making that moment as jarring as it needed to be. And that's just from playing one version of the character! I didn't even talk about how he nails the naive yet still wise Vision from the flashback in "Previously On" or the cold and robotic "Vision" from "The Series Finale." Bettany has range, and WandaVision is a great show that proves how. One just needs to have the right amount of vision to see it (HhhhhhhhhhhHA!)

Developing Wanda: But as great as Paul Bettany, and to a lesser extent, Vision, is, Wanda Maximoff is clearly the star of the show here (And yes, I know that it's Wanda who's the character and Elizabeth Olson is the actor, but...I'll get into it!). If WandaVision has taught me anything about these Disney+ shows, it's that we are finally going to get some long-awaited development to characters that are starved from it. And Wanda definitely needed it. Don't get me wrong, Wanda was great in past movies but wasn't that compelling of a character. Here, trust me when I say that the opposite is true. 

We are given a deep dive into not only Wanda's morality but also her psyche. The writers really play around with how scary Wanda can be. As well as questioning if Wanda has the capability of being evil. Because, yeah, what she did was not right. True, our "heroine" was going through some rough s**t, but that doesn't excuse the amount of torture Wanda put the people of Westview through, no matter how unwittingly. Just look at that scene where everyone grills Wanda about what she's doing to them, not only pleading for whatever compromise they can get and even begging for her to kill them instead. That is dark! That is the darkest concept the MCU has ever offered, and the ending of Avengers: Infinity War exists!

But, while it doesn't entirely excuse everything, there is a reason why Wanda did all of this. You see, throughout WandaVision, Wanda goes through the five stages of grief. It all starts with denial as she pretends to live in a sitcom that she created where Vision is alive, and they get to even have kids together. Soon comes anger when she destroys anything and physically harms anyone that tries to bring her back to reality. Next, there's bargaining as Wanda strengthens her hex and expands it to keep outsiders out and keep Vision in. This leads to depression as the weight of all of Wanda's actions finally sinks in, and she's forced to realize the damage she's causing. Until all of it ends with acceptance, as Wanda finally, finally, gets to say goodbye to Vision. Something she never really got when Thanos ripped the mind stone out of Vision's forehead. It's both incredible to watch as it is fascinating. Wanda, through the course of her own little spin-off series, just went from a decent character to one of the most intriguing to dissect in the MCU. And we have this show to thank for it.

The Commercials: These commercials offer three things.

They're more homages to classic television, each product and filming for each one honoring how commercials looked in each era.

They offer more of an insight into Wanda's psyche as we see how each commercial shows bits of her history, regrets, and deepest desires. You see all of the above in the Lagos' paper towel commercial.

There are neat bits of foreshadowing of what's to come, like how Hydra Soak ends by saying it's for "your inner goddess" or how the 90s commercial ends by saying Magic isn't meant for the weak.

With all of that, these commercials are as fun to analyze as they are disturbing as hell.

The Dinner Scene: This was the moment it was clear that WandaVision wasn’t going to just be fun and games. The second that "Mr. Heart" starts screaming at Wanda about why she and Vision came, it becomes clear that the whole wacky scenario our heroes are in isn't as harmless as we all thought. And when "Mrs. Heart" playfully tells her husband to stop it when “Mr. Heart” starts choking, only to desperately scream at Wanda to stop it, audiences begin to piece together that the people of Westview are prisoners--no--victims. As for Wanda? She's the unknowing dictator forcing them to do what she says. And it was this scene that I knew I was going to really enjoy this show.

The Blip Scene: And it was this scene that made WandaVision skyrocket into top-tier MCU territory! As much as I love Spider-Man: Far From Home, I will admit that making a joke with the concept of something like the blip might not have been the best move. But showing the chaos of everyone coming back all at once? On top of showing the confusion that a person would have from being told that a five-second nap was five years? Yeah, that's more in line with what we want.

Returning Characters: Not only was I surprised by the fact that these pretty minor characters in the MCU made a return at all, but I was also shocked to find out they work better in this series than they did in their respective movies. First, there's Monica. Not only is she reintroduced as a brand new hero (with, admittingly, confusing superpowers), but she also works as the anti-Wanda. Both characters had someone they care about dearly die without getting a chance to say goodbye. The difference is that Monica doesn't have the abilities Wanda does and is instead forced to quickly accept that her mom is dead and won't come back. She even admits that she would bring her mom back if she could. But that just makes Monica the perfect person that Wanda needs. A person that understands where she's coming from and tries to convince Wanda to do the right thing, no matter how hard it is. Monica's methods may have been a tad bit sloppy, but she is still ten times more intriguing than that little girl who screwed around with the color scheme on Captain Marvel’s suit.

Then there's Jimmy Woo, who is both funnier here than in Ant-Man and the Wasp, and actually shows signs of being a competent FBI agent. A step up, I might add, from the hilariously incompetent character we saw in his previous appearance.

And also, Darcie is here...and still slightly annoying...but at least she still has a couple funny lines here and there! Which is more than I can say with Thor and Thor: The Dark World.

In my opinion, it's a good move having these characters with pretty small roles in vastly different stories make a return. It shows that they are not limited to their one little corner of the MCU. And that they can branch off into taller tales that suit them perfectly. It's pretty cool, and it makes me wonder what other small characters could make a triumphant return.

Billy and Tommy: These two are...fine. Billy and Tommy give me Zach and Cody vibes sometimes, the kids playing them do a decent job, and they both offer some great emotional moments. The problem is that out of the list of characters that WandaVision introduces and reintroduces, there's not much to talk about with Billy and Tommy. Honestly, the only reason why I briefly mentioned that I like them is that I don't want dozens of people crucifying me for not saying anything about them. I don't hate them, but I don't much care for them either.

Evan Peters as Quicksilver: Although I would have loved it if it was Aaron Taylor-Johnson who made a return, seeing Evan Peters in a good Marvel movie again is more than worth it. He plays a much more fun version of Quicksilver while still nailing the sibling relationship the character has with Wanda. In a way, it's a lot like how Marvel cast J.K. Simmons as J Jonah Jameson at the end of Spider-Man: Far From Home. It's admitting that no one could have played the character better than this one actor and briefly making fans happy in the process. While also not doing something crazy like having it be the exact same Quicksilver from the X-Men movies. Only f**king idiots would believe something like that...

...

...But hypothetically speaking, let's say some people were stupid to believe that. While making an outrageous claim that the writers "lead them on to doing so." In which case, I will say the same thing that one would say when friend-zoning someone: "Nobody led you on to s**t. You were just too busy focusing on what you wanted to see instead of what you needed to see."

Because there was no evidence that it was the same Quicksilver other than the fact that it was the same actor. And, hypothetically speaking, if there were dozens of crybabies who were upset about it not being the same Quicksilver, then I have so much more respect for this character being nothing more than a boner joke. Because you did this to yourselves...hypothetically speaking.

Retconning Wanda’s Powers: ...I'm ok with this. Retcons happen all the time in the comics, as well as in movies and television. It's just a matter of making the retcon believable enough where there are few holes in what you're telling people. As for Wanda apparently having magic this entire time, but the mind stone amplified her powers? I can buy that. Besides, it's an acceptable excuse to make Wanda as powerful as she is in the comics (from what I've been told), so like I said, I'm ok with this.

“I can’t feel you…”: ...That's fine. I didn't need my heart anyway.

“Vision’s” Talk with “Vision”: Forget the horrible CGIed battles. I want more of this!

Now, I put both Visions in quotation marks because while they're both the same character, they're also...not the same. Which is, funnily enough, what this scene is: A philosophical discussion between two versions of the same android about what makes them both/neither the definitive version. One may look the same, and the other may be the same body, but neither "Vision" really is the true Vision. However, the fact that these two stop their fighting so they can have this discussion in the first place helps secure that while different, they are still the same. It's a thought-provoking discussion, and it is ten times more interesting to watch than Wanda and Agatha's CGI fight in the sky. Although it is kind of odd that White-Vision just peaces out the second Hex-Vision gives him a reboot. But hey, that's for the future movies to deal with.

“Thank you for choosing me to be your mom.”: >Deep inhale<...Girl.

Wanda Saying Goodbye to Vision: >DEEPER INHALE< HOOOOOOOOOOO BOY! I did not expect this much emotional turmoil from f**king WANDAVISION!

Joking aside, this is a well-handled scene. It's incredibly emotional to see these two characters say goodbye to each other as their arcs come to a close. "Vision" peacefully leaves knowing who he is in the world, and Wanda can finally start moving on as she gets to say goodbye to her one true love. It's as bittersweet as it is beautiful.

WHAT I DISLIKE

MCU logos flashing in every episode: You know how CinemaSins has this bulls**t excuse about how the MCU opening logo wastes time to get to the good stuff? This is the only instance where that's applicable. Because the opening logo was cool to see again for the first episode, but having it play in every single one after breaks the immersion when trying to binge the series. It's for a couple of seconds, sure, but after a while, it does get pretty annoying.

Elizabeth Olson as Scarlet Witch: Now, to be clear, I have no problems with Elizabeth Olson's acting ability in this series. She juggles being funny, heartbreaking, and threatening so well that I am likely to laugh and cry with her as I am to s**t my pants while in her presence. Elizabeth Olson does a great job with this character. The problem? Well, in the comics, Wanda Maximoff is Roma, and Elizabeth Olson...isn't. This means that WandaVision, and the MCU as a whole, has a bad case of white-washing.

I could go on about the issues this brings, but I am not as educated about this subject, and all I know is just stuff that seems like common sense. For instance, I believe it is more than reasonable to hire an actor of a specific race or ethnicity for a character who is of a that same race or ethnicity. But that is as far as my knowledge and personal stance goes, and to expand on it would be too much of a risk because I have no right to criticize the representation of something I am not a part of. So instead, I'm going to point you to @earnestdesire‘s blog and Jessica Reidy’s article on the subject. They do a great job at discussing the issues with Olson’s Wanda and pointing to the issues the MCU has in representing Wanda and Pietro's representation in the comics. And they do it in a far better way than I ever could have. So check them out to truly see why, despite doing a great job, Elizabeth Olson should not be the person donning the suit.

It Was Agatha All Along: AND I STILL F**KING HATE THAT!

I know, I know, I am in the minority on this one. And I still don't understand why! To me, Agatha has all of the problems that Hans has in Frozen. Sure, there are hints if you pay more attention during a few select scenes that are slightly questionable. Like how she refers to Wanda as "the star of the show" or coincidentally shows up with a dog house for Sparky. However, much like how Frozen didn't need a villain like Hans, WandaVision didn't need a comic book villain like Agatha. The story was perfectly passable as a personal conflict involving Wanda's grief where the only obstacle was the director of S.W.O.R.D. and his agents. There is nothing Agatha adds to that.

"But she helps Wanda find out what happens!" Yeah, but Monica could have done the same thing by actually breaking through to Wanda and calmly asking what happened. From then on, they could have worked things out together by having Wanda retrace events that transpired through the information that Monica knows as well.

"But Agatha helps Wanda realize what she's doing is wrong!" So could Vision! He could have shown up, did that mind-meld thing to the townspeople, and Wanda would finally learn what she was doing was wrong through the person she trusts the most.

"But Agatha helps Wanda learn that she's the Scarlet Witch!" Ok...but did that need to happen in this series? Because when you think about it, when the central conflict is all about exploring Wanda's grief, throwing in this narrative about becoming the Scarlet Witch has little to do with anything. Meaning that if you cut it from the story, little would change other than cutting a CGI battle that everyone agrees is the worst part of the series.

The most Agatha adds to the story is a secondary conflict that could easily be cut, and the overall quality would stay the same, if not better. And that is a problem. Agatha needs to add to the central conflict in a way that no other character could have. Like, give her a reason to be involved in Wanda’s life that goes beyond feeding off her magic and leading Wanda to her destiny. Because as is, even if you argue that Agatha is a good twist villain, she's a villain that really didn't need to be here.

Director Haywood: But as much as I don't like Agatha, I think we can all agree that Director Haywood is the worst villain in the MCU. Because one issue that Haywood has is a lack of motivation. For instance, why does he try so hard to write off Wanda as this supervillain? It was never explained, and for something so bizarre and crucial to his character, I feel like it needed to be. It would be passable if he was motivated out of fear and ignorance, but Haywood goes so far as to misedit security footage to prove his point. And I don't get why.

Is he sexist?

Did Wanda not show up at his kid's birthday party?

Did he secretly want to use Vision as a sexbot and didn't want Wanda to get between them?

I don't know, and I'll never know.

Plus, on top of having no motivation, Haywood is just forgettable. Agatha may piss me off to no end, but at least I'll remember her. I honestly forgot Haywood's name half the time, and I'm willing to bet that you did too. Case in point, his name isn't even Haywood. It's Hayward. And in the off chance that you didn't even know about that misspelling just proves my point about how forgettable Hayward is. While it's one thing to be hated, it's another to be forgotten. Because that just means that you left so little impact that you aren't even worth getting upset about.

------

And that is what I thought about WandaVision. If I had to base this off my usual score, I'd have to give the show the same 7/10 that everyone else gave it. Because there's a lot that I love, but the stuff that I hate is so problematic that it takes the WandaVision down on a couple of notches. It's still a fantastic series with a solid story, a great message, incredible acting, and phenomenal character development. It's just that not everyone is going to be willing to tune in as much as you might think.

[littlemisswolfie]

Hope That You Fall In Love (And It Hurts So Bad)

Part II>

Somehow I never posted this here oops--

I’ve always loved @umisabaku ‘s Designation: Miracle fic series on Ao3, and I love to see a half-Canadian protagonist in anime because no one ever thinks being half-Canadian is cool, so I love Sk8: The Infinity, and I figured, hey! Why not combine them! And this happened.

TW for  mentions of child experimentation and torture, a scene where it is heavily implied Nanako trades sexual favors in exchange for custody of Langa, a few scenes where Langa has nightmares, a brief moment of Langa having a panic attack, non-graphic descriptions of Oliver developing liver cancer, discussions of death and funeral arrangements, a non-graphic scene of Oliver dying, and the beginnings of Langa's depression.

Ao3

Hasegawa Nanako didn’t quite know what she was getting into when she got contracted by a private company straight out of nursing school. She was young and trusting and desperate for money after her parents died and left her with their debts, and the recruiter from Teiko Industries handed her a quote that was three times the average pay for nurses, so she took the job. She signed the stacks of NDAs, went through with the extensive background checks and drug tests, and underwent a psych evaluation before she even stepped foot into the lab that would change her entire life.

She wants to quit as soon as she figures out what was really going on. Human experimentation, torture, training children to be assassins… the whole thing makes her skin crawl. But, again, she really needs the money. No other job she could get right out of school would pay enough to chip away at her parents’ debt and pay for her apartment and car and food. So, with a heavy heart, she shows up for her shift five nights a week, and she’s assigned to the hospital ward that cared for Generation Infinity.

They’re the youngest generation so far. Eight years younger than Generation Miracle, which, Nanako learns from a particularly chatty coworker, was the most successful Generation by far. “They’re almost all Successes,” the other nurse says, cheery, like they’re talking about some sports game or a litter of kittens instead of living, breathing children. “They just had to scrap O394, but the others are all still promising. Well, maybe not B452, but still. That’s six out of fourteen! Imagine that.”

Nanako doesn’t want to imagine that. The thought makes her stomach churn. The casual talk of killing children…

“Maybe Infinity will be even better!” the coworker chatters on. “If our Orange Three can actually fly… think they’d give us a raise?”

*

The Project she sees most often during her shift is GI-B423.

Nanako knows there isn’t much hope for him. He’s only two years old, but he’s barely developed even the slightest invisibility. He doesn’t even display any Latent Overflow, which was supposed to be inherent in every Project. The scientists still make him wear the shock bracelets (horrible things, Nanako wanted to rip them off of him with her bare hands) and still send him to that torture chamber they stole from Orwell, but he’s already a Failure in their eyes.

To Nanako, he’s a baby. He’s tall for his age, with curious eyes and an unfillable stomach and a wonderful smile when she could wrench one out of him. He winds up in the hospital ward so often because of his reckless behavior. He tries to copy everything the other Projects do, particularly GI-O376’s jumping and GI-B531’s speed, and even when he doesn’t hurt himself trying something stupid, his heart rate elevates and he gets shocked.

“You should be more careful,” she says to him one night as she patches up a scratch he got when he scraped  his arm on the wall of his cell trying to touch the ceiling. “I’d hate to see them hurt you for being reckless.”

Those eyes, too smart for a toddler, stare into her soul. “You’re worried about me?”

“Yes.” There’s no use denying it. Even if she didn’t care too much about this child who will probably be killed by the time he’s ten years old, it would be cruel to deny caring for a boy this young. And maybe she’s selfish, for feeling like this about GI-B423 and not the other children, but the scientists care about them plenty. They are Successes.

GI-B423 will never be a Success. So she has to care about him, because no one else will.

*

Nanako quickly comes to realize she’s one of the only people in Teiko that thinks of the Projects as human. This lets her see things no one else does.

So, a few years after she starts working, she notices GM-B425 is planning something.

She’s sure he’s fooling the others. The scientists and doctors and contractors think of these children as weapons, unfeeling, unthinking save for their direct orders. The Miracle Projects are generally allowed free reign of the facility as long as they stay out of the private offices and labs, so Nanako will take her time at the vending machines to watch them, and she notices the way GM-B452 watches everyone else. He’s the closest thing to a Success a Black will ever be, Nanako has heard, but he’s still going to be scrapped soon.

Nanako knows what desperation looks like.

She makes a choice.

*

“Let me get this straight,” says Honda-san, the director of Generation Infinity. He’s an older man, probably pushing sixty, with graying black hair and dark, mean eyes. He’s watched her with a predatory gaze from the first time they met when she first started. Nanako’s always known she’s a pretty woman, one of the few things her mother gave her, so it wasn’t like she was unused to attention from old, greasy men. “You want to resign, and instead of a severance package, you want to take GI-B423 with you?”

“Yes, sir.” Nanako’s wearing her best dress (and if it’s cut just low enough to be flattering, well, that’s just a bonus) and she did her make-up and she is being as polite as she can possibly be. “I’ve made more than enough money here to pay off my parents’ debts, and I was never cut out for work like this in the first place, so I see no reason to continue in my current position when you could hire someone more suited for the role.” She’s been saving since the day she started working. She never eats out, she doesn’t go out drinking, and she takes five minute showers. She’s debt-free, with savings to spare.

“And GI-B423?” Honda-san leans forward on his hands, his wrinkled brow furrowing further. “What use could he have to you?”

Nanako inhales and brings a hand to her stomach. “I’ll never be able to have children,” she says, the truth burning her throat. “I had to get a hysterectomy due to my endometriosis. I’ve come to care for GI-B423 as my own child, and you know as well as I do that he’ll never be a Success. If anything, he’s more noticeable than the other members of his Generation. Why spend the resources continuing to believe he’ll develop the abilities you would need him to? Why dissect him as if anything about him could better future Projects?” The words sting, tasting sour in her mouth. She hates saying these things about GI-B423, but it’s what she needs to do. “If you can get him on my family register, that’s all I ask. We’ll leave the country, and you’ll never hear from us again.”

Honda-san makes a considering noise, and, after a moment, he places his hand on her bare knee. His wedding band glints in the overhead light. “I might be persuaded.”

Nanako tries to smile.

*

Later that night, as Nanako is slipping her dress back up over her shoulders in the room of the love hotel Honda-san rented for the evening, Honda-san says, “What name did you want for him?”

“Langa,” Nanako says. “His name is Hasegawa Langa.”

*

Langa is confused, at first. “Where are we going?” he asks Nanako when she loads him and his meager belongings into her car. He’s never been out on a mission, so this is probably the first time he’s ever seen a car. “Does R0132 know where I am? He’ll get mad if I’m not at training.” He rubs at his wrists, finally free of those awful shock bracelets, like he can’t believe they’re gone.

“I don’t work here anymore,” she tells him. “I quit. Do you know what adoption means? It means I’m going to take care of you from now on.”

“So… I don’t live here?”

“No. And you’ll never have to do training again, or wear your shock bracelets, or go to Room 101. You can eat as much as you want. And you have a name.”

“A name?”

“Yes. Your name is Hasegawa Langa. You’re my son, now, and I’m your mother, and that means I’ll love you and take care of you for the rest of your life.”

Langa blinks. Then, he says, “Okay,” and he lets her buckle him in.

*

Two days later, they’re on a plane to Canada.

*

A month after that, nestled in their new apartment in Squamish, Nanako holds Langa in her lap and they watch, together, as Generation Miracle escapes from Teiko.

“Will they come for us, Mom?” Langa asks.

She squeezes him around the middle, perhaps a little too tight. “No, honey. As long as we keep our secret a secret, we’ll be fine.”

 Nanako hopes she’s right.

*

The military never ends up knocking on their door, and Nanako thanks God for small mercies. She and Langa are doing everything they can to blend in, like normal immigrants. Nanako’s working at a nursing home, and Langa is enrolled at the local Catholic school, and they both attend Mass on Sundays and Wednesdays. Nanako makes friends with the other women in the apartment building and she tells them all that Langa’s father got her pregnant and walked out on her, so that’s why he’s not in the picture, and Langa dutifully goes along with the sentiment when asked. Langa isn’t making a lot of friends, and that would worry Nanako, but mostly she’s glad that it means there’s no danger of Langa accidentally telling a kindergartener with no filter about his time at Teiko.

He still gets nightmares, sometimes. Nanako never saw the inside of Room 101, and she wishes Langa never had, either. She never let him see the press images of how the JSDF found Teiko when they went hunting for the scientists, because that would only make the fear worse. Hell, she woke up in the middle of the night sometimes, catapulted out of a dream of fire and screaming, bloody children, guilty that she couldn’t save the rest of them, guilty that she only loved Langa and not the others, and she’ll never make Langa feel that, too. He has enough on his shoulders as it is.

Then, for Langa’s first Christmas outside of Teiko’s walls, Nanako uses up all the PTO she’s saved and they take a trip to a ski lodge, and there they meet Oliver Campbell.

*

Oliver, as it turns out, also lives in Squamish, as he tells Nanako one night over boozy hot chocolate after Langa has been put to bed. “I’m a firefighter,” he says, “though, when I was younger, I wanted to be a pro snowboarder.”

“I could never,” Nanako laughs. “That’s a little too dangerous for me.” Then, because the alcohol makes speaking secrets easier, she says, “Langa would probably love it, though. He’s always been an adrenaline junkie.”

Oliver looks surprised. “He seems like such a quiet kid.”

“Oh, you should’ve seen him when he was—when we still lived in Japan. Scrapes and broken bones everywhere.”

“Well, then, he’s lucky he had such an amazing mother to patch him up.”

Heat floods Nanako’s cheeks. “What good would my nursing license do if I couldn’t even take care of my own kid?”

“And… Langa’s father?”

“Not in the picture. It’s just the two of us.” Please don’t ask anymore, she begs. There’s something about Oliver that makes her want to be completely honest, and that could end very, very poorly.

“Ah,” he says, instead, “I’m sorry about that. Wherever he is, he’s really missing out.”

Nanako thinks of Honda-san, of his leer and his sweaty hands and his potbelly dragging against her back, and says, “We’re better off without him, trust me.”

*

The next day, Oliver starts teaching Langa how to snowboard. Just like Nanako thought, he takes to it like a fish to water, and even when he falls, the snow cushions his landing, so he just laughs and jumps right back up to try again. She watches from the sidelines and smiles, feeling warm, because this is what Langa deserves. He deserves to be a normal kid.

*

“When are you guys going home?” Oliver asks over dinner one night, a few days into their stay at the ski lodge. They’re having breakfast for dinner, a phenomenon Langa was very pleased to learn about, and Nanako ordered him three helpings of Eggs Benedict.

Langa is too busy shovelling peameal bacon into his mouth like he’s never eaten in his life to answer, so Nanako says, “Boxing Day. We don’t have any family in the area, so we’re just doing Christmas here.”

Oliver leans back in his chair. “That reminds me! Why did you guys move here, anyway? If you don’t have family here, I mean.”

Langa only barely doesn’t tense up, and Nanako promises to give him extra dessert for his restraint. “We needed a fresh start,” Nanako says. “I got pregnant with him while I was still in nursing school, and by the time I graduated, my parents had both died, and I got saddled with their debts. We stayed in Japan long enough to pay the debts off and save enough money to move, and we just… left. Where we went didn’t matter much, honestly, as long as it wasn’t Japan.”

“Your English is pretty good,” Oliver notes. He genuinely just sounds curious. “Both of you, actually. If I didn’t know you were immigrants, I would think English was Langa’s first language.”

Langa swallows a huge mouthful of English muffin and egg and says, “I know French, too! And some other languages.”

Nanako takes back her internal promise of extra dessert as Oliver’s eyebrows migrate up towards his hairline. “That’s very impressive,” he says. “Where’d you learn all those?”

Langa shrugs. “Around.”

“We learn English all throughout school, in Japan,” Nanako cuts in. “When I knew we were going to move abroad, I taught Langa, too. And he started teaching himself French when we decided on Canada. He’s a quick study when it comes to languages.” Oliver still looks a little unsure, so she rushes to change the subject. “When are you leaving the lodge, Oliver?”

“I’m checking out of my room on Christmas Eve. My parents always throw a big Christmas party at their cabin in Princeton every year, with all the aunts and uncles and cousins. It’s a riot, especially when we play Pass the Ace.”

“Pass the Ace?” Langa asks. “What’s that?”

A playful glint enters Oliver’s eye. “Oh, Langa, my boy, do you have any loonies on you?”

*

The three of them spend the next few days together. Langa wakes Nanako up as soon as the sun rises and they go downstairs to meet up with Oliver, who spends the rest of the morning teaching Langa how to snowboard. Then they go to the bunny slopes to toboggan, and at night, they eat dinner together, and Oliver and Nanako stay up long after Langa goes to bed to drink and talk.

Nanako’s surprised at how easy it feels to be around Oliver. Even before she started working at Teiko, her dating life wasn’t exactly active. Sure, she’d hooked up with a few guys in college, and she had a boyfriend in high school, but there was never a connection, not like this.

“Here,” he says, the night of the 23rd, “let me give you my number.”

“Really?” Nanako asks, even though she’s already pulling her phone out of her pocket.

Oliver gives her a confused look. “Yeah? I mean, unless you didn’t want to meet up back in Squamish—”

“No, I do!” Nanako rushes to correct. “I do. It’s just… I mean, with Langa…”

“Hey.” Oliver reaches across the table to take one of her hands. “Langa’s a great kid. Any guy who got scared away by him isn’t worth the time of day. I like you, and I like Langa, and I would love nothing more than to get to know the both of you better, if you would allow it.”

Nanako flushes again. She likes this feeling, like someone is looking at her and seeing her and still liking it. She knows she shouldn’t, that Langa’s secret could be in jeopardy if she gets too close to the wrong guy, but she can’t help it. “I think I will,” she says. “Langa would probably never forgive me if I took his snowboarding teacher from him.”

And Oliver laughs, and it’s one of the most beautiful sounds she’s ever heard, right under Langa calling her “Mom.”

*

She and Oliver start officially dating not too long after Christmas. He’ll come to the nursing home with Tim Hortons when she’s working twelves, and he picks Langa up from school and helps him with his homework, and he invites the two of them over for dinner at least twice a week because he knows Nanako is often too busy to cook. When it comes time to celebrate Langa’s birthday, Oliver buys him a brand new snowboard, and Langa throws his arms around his neck and chants “thank you”s into his hair.

He brings them to his parents’ cabin for Victoria Day, and his family is just as kind as him. His nieces and nephews do their best to include Langa in their games, but they don’t push when she shies away and hangs out by the buffet table instead, and his mother, Barbara, hugs Nanako like she’s an old friend rather than a stranger.

“Hey, Langa, wanna swim?” Oliver’s dad, Ray, asks, gesturing to the small pond nearby. Some of the other kids are already splashing around in it, and it is getting warm, so it’s no wonder he’s suggesting it.

Nanako tenses, but Langa just shakes his head. “I don’t swim very often,” he says in that serious way of his, and she releases the breath she was holding. She’s never taken him swimming since she adopted him, because she can’t be certain no one will see the GI-B423 brand on his upper thigh. He doesn’t have many scars, other than the faint ones around his wrists he usually wears long-sleeved shirts to bulky bracelets to cover up, but that one in particular would be very hard to explain away.

Oliver gives her a curious look, but she just shrugs like she’s seen other parents do when their kids are acting weird, and he gives her that lopsided smile and everything is okay again.

*

A month later, Nanako terminates the lease on her and Langa’s apartment, and they move their things into the small house Oliver owns. Langa’s a little confused about why Nanako says he can’t sleep with her as often as he used to now that they’re living with Oliver, but he doesn’t complain. After her, Oliver is his favorite person in the whole world.

*

They go to the ski lodge again for Christmas, and Langa barely stays off the slopes the whole time. He’s only seven now, but he snowboards better than people three times his age and with a decade more experience.

“He’s a prodigy,” Oliver says, watching him jump a worryingly high way into the air. “He could go pro.”

Nanako hopes he doesn’t. She doesn’t want him to attract too much attention to himself. “Maybe,” she says. “But he’s a little too spacey for that, I think.” Oliver laughs and puts an arm around her waist, letting her melt into his side. “Maybe.”

*

That Christmas, surrounded by the Campbell clan, Oliver gets down on one knee and asks Nanako to be his wife. Nanako can see Langa over Oliver’s shoulder, bobbing his head up and down like a bobblehead, and she lets out a wet laugh and says “yes.”

*

It’s a quiet wedding, at the cabin in Princeton, with just Oliver’s family and some of Nanako’s friends from work. They include Langa in all of their wedding photos, and he hugs Oliver and calls him “Dad” and Oliver almost cries.

This is it, Nanako decides. This is all she needs. Her husband and their son and the life they’ve made for themselves.

As long as no one finds out about Teiko.

*

Langa’s been very good about keeping it all a secret. He never talks about Teiko, or his Generation, or the powers that should have developed but never did. He doesn’t take his bracelets off around anyone, even Oliver, and when he has his nightmares, he quietly wakes Nanako up so she can slip out of bed and comfort him until he falls back to sleep.

Things aren’t perfect, but they work.

Until Generation Miracle is put back into the spotlight.

*

Nanako studiously never brings up the Miracles. Sometimes people will ask if she has an opinion on them, and she always says no. If a news segment is playing and talking about them, she’ll change the channel or turn the TV off. It’s been harder to ignore all the media attention lately, since Teiko’s more insidious designs are suddenly being brought to light. She’s not sure who is suddenly talking, or why, but she’s more than happy to bury her head in the sand and pretend it doesn’t concern her.

Until one day, when she gets home from work, and sees Oliver and Langa sitting on the couch and watching as a teenage boy with light blue hair and a calm fury Nanako only ever saw in one person says, “All we have ever wanted to do is be free.”

Nanako lunges for the remote to change the channel. Oliver squawks in surprise, but she kneels in front of Langa, who’s sitting rigid, like a stone, and takes his hands and says, “Are you okay, sweetie?”

He nods robotically, and she winces. He’s retreating. That’s not good. “Hey, baby, breathe for me, okay? In for four, hold for five, out for six. Just like we used to.”

Langa sets about his breathing exercises, and Oliver stands up, looking more concerned than she’s ever seen him look. “What’s going on? He got all quiet as soon as that news segment started.”

“Oliver, it’s a long story—”

“If my son is having a—a panic attack, or something, I think I deserve to know why!”

This is what she’s always dreaded. She has to come up with something. If she brushes him off, he’s just going to keep digging, but if she says something too complicated, she won’t remember what she said later and it will bite her in the ass. I shouldn’t have gotten him involved, she thinks, mournfully, already picturing the divorce proceedings and custody battle and Langa missing the only father he’s ever known. I knew it was too risky.

“GI-B423.” Langa gasps, and Nanako whips her head up towards him.

“Langa—” she starts, panic rising in her chest, at the same time Oliver says, “What?”

“My designation,” Langa says, he’s still clearly upset. “GI-B423. The twenty-third Black Four Project in Generation Infinity. Failed experiment. GI-B423…” He continues muttering, clearly back in that awful place, and Nanako throws her arms around him.

“Shh, baby,” she coos, rocking him back and forth, feeling him tremble against her. “That’s not you anymore, remember? You’re Hasegawa Langa. You’re eight years old, you’re in year three, and you live with your mom and dad in Squamish, British Columbia.”

She repeats this mantra a few times, drowning out Langa’s, until he stops trembling so much. His little hands grip her scrub top like she’s a liferaft in the middle of the ocean. She’s no stranger to this feeling; most of his nightmares result in a similar embrace. Her neck is damp from his tears and snot, but she keeps on rocking him, letting him cry himself out until he falls asleep.

Throughout it all, Oliver watches, silent.

*

Nanako carries Langa to bed and tucks him in for an impromptu nap, and braces herself for the awful conversation she knows she has to have.

Oliver is still sitting on the couch, silent, staring at the wall behind the TV. “Well,” he says, before Nanako has a chance to say anything, “a few things make more sense now.”

“Oliver…”

He looks at her, meeting her worried gaze, and sighs, opening his arms. She falls into his embrace readily, collapsing against his side. In his arms, she feels safe, like nothing can touch her here. “Tell me your story,” he says, playing with her wedding band, and she does.

*

Nanako won’t say things are perfect after Oliver learns Langa’s secret, but they’re certainly easier.  

Now, when Langa has his nightmares, he can crawl into bed in between his parents and not have to worry about revealing anything he shouldn’t. Oliver’s always been better at calming him down, too, so having his help in soothing Langa’s nightmares is a huge deal. Nanako doesn’t have to be on the lookout for evil scientists or government agents all on her own anymore, now that Oliver is also keeping an eye out.

The three of them sit on the couch together to watch the coverage of the Special Diet, and when the Miracles are declared not dangerous, Nanako almost cries.

Maybe they can finally be free.

*

And so, the years pass.

Things are never perfect. They wouldn’t have been perfect if Langa wasn’t a genetically engineered child designed to be an assassin, but even then, things are a normal amount of imperfection. Langa still has trouble connecting with kids his own age, but not in a weird way, just a kid way. Nanako and Oliver have their odd disagreements, though they never go to bed angry. Oliver goes out drinking with his coworkers from the fire station more often than Nanako would like, but he never drives drunk and never gets angry or abusive, so she doesn’t try to make him stop. They get enough money to buy a larger house just outside of Squamish, and Nanako starts up a garden in the backyard in the spring and summer. In the winter, they spend more and more time on the mountain as Langa falls more in love with snowboarding.

And he does love snowboarding. He’s always pushing himself to go faster, jump higher, do more. Nanako is nervous that he might want to go pro, but he never brings the possibility up. He just wants to snowboard with his dad. He doesn’t care about the money or the glory or anything else. As long as he has his board and the snow and Oliver, he’s happy.

And then Oliver gets his diagnosis.

*

It starts small. He’s less hungry than he used to be, “But your food is as delicious as it’s always been!” he says with a flirty wink. The fifteen-year-old Langa rolls his eyes.

Then, he starts losing weight. He was always fit, with not a lot of fat on him, so when he starts losing weight, Nanako gets concerned. “You’re not trying to diet or anything, right?” she asks, staring at his narrower chest.

He shakes his head. “I’m probably just getting old, honey. We didn’t get to go on the slopes much this winter. I’ll start jogging to get my muscle mass back up, if that’ll make you happy.”

Langa goes on these runs with him. He’s always been an active kid, since Teiko was training them to be super soldiers, so he always has too much energy. The extra activity is good for him.

Oliver, on the other hand, doesn’t benefit as much from their daily jogs. He keeps losing weight, and every once in a while, he complains of abdominal pain. “No, Nanako, I’m not going to the doctor,” he says when she gives him a worried look. “It’s probably nothing.”

Then, on Canada Day, Nanako is woken up when Oliver bolts out of bed to be violently sick in their ensuite bathroom and notices his skin is jaundiced, and the next day she packs up him and Langa and they all go to the hospital together.

*

Liver cancer.

Stage 4.

Treatment options.

Life expectancy.

Langa shuts down.

*

Oliver deteriorates quickly after that.

He’s in the hospital more often than not, and when he’s admitted two weeks before Thanksgiving, everyone knows it’s for the last time. Nanako and Langa are there as often as they can be, sitting with him and holding his hand and desperately trying to pretend he’s not about to leave him forever. The nurses even buy Langa a cake when the three of them all collectively forget his sixteenth birthday.

When Langa is at school or sleeping in the waiting room, Nanako and Oliver go over his will. He’s leaving everything to Nanako, of course, but he says she should let his cousins come and take a look at family photos after she decides what she wants to keep. He also writes a letter for Langa, but doesn’t let Nanako read it. “It’s for him,” he says. “He should be the first one to read it.

“I don’t want a funeral,” he tells her, voice weak. “Don’t spend your money on that. Don’t make Langa go through that. Cremate me and bury me next to my grandparents, and go out to lunch after.”

“Okay,” she says.

“I wish this wasn’t happening.” For the first time since he got his diagnosis, Oliver starts to cry. “I don’t want to leave you and Langa. I want to see him grow up and fall in love. I want to see your hair turn gray.”

“I want that, too,” she says. She grips his hand tightly and lets her own tears roll down her cheeks. “How am I going to do this without you?”

He tries to crack one of his crooked grins. “You’re a smart lady. You’ll figure it out.”

*

A few nights later, Nanako and Langa are woken in the middle of the night, and they rush to the hospital. They get there in time for each of them to hold one of Oliver’s hands as he takes his last breath.

*

Like Oliver wanted, he’s cremated and buried in Princeton, next to his grandparents in the Campbell family plot. His parents take them out for lunch at a Swiss Chalet, and Langa barely eats. He has the letter Oliver wrote him clenched in his fist. He hasn’t read it yet; the envelope is still sealed.

Nanako won’t push. He’ll read it when he’s ready.

*

They go up the mountain that winter.

Langa stands at the top of the slope and stares down it. He does this for twenty minutes, and walks back to the lodge.

*

“We can’t stay here,” Nanako tells Barbara a few weeks after Christmas. “It’s—it’s killing Langa, being  here without Oliver. He’s not eating, he’s barely sleeping…” She chokes back a sob, and melts into the warm embrace her mother-in-law offers her.

“You’ll always be family,” Barbara assures her. “Do what you need to do. We’ll always be here if you need us.”

*

“I’m thinking we should move back to Japan,” Nanako says to Langa later that night. She doesn’t really want to go back to Japan, but Teiko is gone. For good, now that the Miracles thwarted their attempt to build a new one near Hawaii not long after the Special Diet. There’s no reason not to go there, when that’s where they came from and the country in the world most comfortable with mutant children.

Langa, still blank, says, “Okay,” and then nothing else for the rest of the night.

*

They sell the house, find an apartment in Okinawa, say goodbye to the Campbells, and get on a plane to the country they fled almost ten years ago.

I hope I’m doing the right thing, Oliver.

[ask-marcus-cally-and-ari]

Only Human

Chapter 10: Downtime

Authors note: Apologies for the long delay. Schoolwork has been burying us and stress from Covid-19 has been at an all time high.

Within three days, Marcus’s mood had significantly improved. With two new allies by his side, he felt markedly more secure in his surroundings, although he still occasionally looked above him from time to time out of instinct. 

He was in the back of Spyper’s van with Ari and Cally, quietly playing a game of Uno amongst themselves. 

Looking up at Intelligent, he said, "Yo, big guy. You look like you wanna ask us something." 

“I do, actually,” Intelligent said, setting aside his book. “You three seem really close. How long have you known each other for?” 

"Six years and 348 days," Cally answered, setting down her cards. 

"Technically, longer," Marcus added, "But we officially met during the summer." 

6 Years and 348 Days Ago… 

The rec center was alive with activity during the summer. It made sense that three random 10 year olds would be here. Marcus, Cally, and Ari were all there, going about their business. Marcus was busy taking boxing classes, Ari was attending choir lessons, and Cally intently watched a lecture on computer programming. 

The classes all ended early that day, leaving the three kids not knowing where to go. So they all ended up in an empty tennis court, sitting and waiting for their parents. 

To kill time, Ari fatefully began chatting with Marcus.

“Hi. My name’s Ari,” He greeted, waving to Marcus. “What’s your name?”

“Marcus. Aren’t you that short kid who sits in the front of the class?” 

“Yeah, that’s me. You’re the kid who’s taking boxing lessons, right?” 

“The one with anger problems,” Cally chimed in from the corner, reading a book. “Yeah, that’s him.” 

Marcus threw a candy wrapper at her. 

“Hey, be nice!” Ari frowned at Cally.

“It’s true, isn’t it? No point saying anything that isn’t true for the sake of one’s feelings.” 

“You sound really mean.” 

"I heard that once you get smart enough you stop having emotions," Marcus shrugged. 

"That's a lie," Cally hissed. "I just don't see the value in being dishonest." 

Marcus rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and the fact that I called you a loser that one time has nothing to do with it." 

"I just refuted your theory on my lack of emotions. I can hold a grudge." 

“How do you even know he has anger issues? Because he boxes?” Ari asked. 

"My mom is the school secretary. She has me do a lot of the paperwork so she can go out. Some of that paperwork got Marcus to see the school therapist." 

“Why does the secretary have a 10 year old doing her work? Isn’t that against the rules or something?”

"Not if the principal doesn't find out." 

“So you’re being mean to Marcus even though you’re the one breaking the rules?” 

“Look. Ari, right? If the people who fed and sheltered you and could kick you out if they felt so inclined and barely gave a crap about you told you to do something, would you do it?” 

“Isn’t it against the law to kick a kid out of the house?” 

“Probably. Wouldn’t stop my parents.” 

“You sound like you have issues. Maybe you should see the school therapist.” 

“I don’t want to get landed in foster care. Too much of a risk to my psyche.” 

“And being treated like sh_t by your parents isn’t?” Marcus asked. 

Ari and Cally stared at Marcus. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Cally asked. 

“Yes, actually.” 

Ari whined. “Isn’t cussing bad?” 

“Eh. Some people don’t like it, and my parents don’t let me swear when we’re in restaurants and things like that.” 

“Wouldn’t the community rec center count as a place you shouldn’t swear?” Cally asked dryly. 

“I guess, but there aren’t any adults around.” 

Cally deadpanned. Ari pouted. 

Leaning back, the intelligent kid pulled out some gum. “Want some?” 

“What flavor is it?” 

“Spearmint.” 

“Eh, sure.” 

“I love mint!” Ari beamed. 

“Not my favorite, but I’ll take it over 5gum,” Marcus added. 

“Ugh. 5gum.” 

“What’s wrong with 5gum?” Ari inquired, popping a piece of gum into their mouth.

“Tastes like trash,” Marcus groused. 

“It’s an insult to gum.” Cally sat. “The least horrible flavor is mint.” 

“And even then, this spearmint gum beats it by a mile,” Marcus added. “I don’t see how anyone can enjoy 5gum. It’s like eating plastic.”

“Better than nothing.” 

“I’ve never had 5gum before, but I’ll take you on your word,” Ari said. 

Present 

“So, yeah. That was fun.” 

“So you three started out arguing with each other, and now you three are basically inseparable,” Intelligent remarked, leaning back in his seat. “A lot must have happened in those six years.” 

“Yeah. For one thing, we became study partners. I had to tie Cally to a chair to keep her from doing all the work for us.” 

“I was not that bad, Marcus.” 

Ari winced. “Well...” 

3 Years Ago… 

“Cally, this is a GROUP project! That means we ALL have to work on this!” Marcus shouted, taking the papers away from Cally. 

“You guys did a lot of the research. And you know I’m a better writer than you,” Cally reasoned, reaching for the papers again. 

“Yeah, right! You were the one hogging all the research, and you’re the one who’s been doing all the writing so far! I know you’re a good writer, but you can’t just hog the entire project!” Marcus protested, holding the papers out of Cally’s reach. “Just about the only thing you haven’t tried to do yourself are the visual aids!”

"Ari can do those." 

“Exactly! That’s the only thing Ari’s been able to do with you hogging everything else!” 

“I just want us to get a good grade!” 

“And we will get a good grade! But ya gotta let us help, too!” 

Cally sighed, sitting back down. “Alright, alright.” 

“Thank you. Now let's get on with this,” Marcus said, dividing the papers equally between himself, Cally, and Ari.

Present 

"Okay, maybe I was a little too overbearing. But my grade was on the line!" 

“Cally, calm down. We got a perfect A on that assignment,” Marcus assured. 

“I know,” Cally granted. “And then you almost got suspended three months later.” 

Marcus scowled and grumbled to himself, folding his arms at the memory. 

“I still think punching that guy in the face was overkill,” whined Ari. 

“It was not!” Marcus protested.

Cally raised an eyebrow. 

2 Years and 9 Months Ago… 

“Violence was unnecessary,” Cally pointed out as she wrapped up Marcus’s hand. 

“Then that kid shouldn’t have ran off with my notebook!” Marcus snapped, wincing as Cally tightened the bandages around his hand. 

“You could have taken it back. Most everyone is scared of you anyway, given how your fight with Albert ended.” 

“That kid wouldn’t give me it back, even after I asked!” 

“And you decided to punch him in the face instead of just snatching it,” Cally added. 

“Both of those are mean,” complained Ari. 

“It was MY notebook!” 

“Still,” Cally frowned. “Your temper could get you hurt.” 

Marcus grumbled something, hissing as Cally started patching up another scratch. 

“Please stop moving.” 

“But it hurts!” 

“And?” Cally deadpanned. 

“Cally,” Ari pouted. 

“I know. Sorry, Marcus. I’m just worried, you know? I don’t want your temper getting you hurt one day.” 

“I know, I know. But I’ve got it covered, alright? I’ll be fine. I can handle it,” Marcus assured. He grunted and rolled his shoulders once Cally was done bandaging his wounds. “F_ck, I’m gonna be sore in the morning…” 

“Yeah, you are,” Cally sighed. “And try not to swear in front of Ari. You know he hates it.” 

“Sorry Ar, force of habit,” Marcus apologized. 

Ari hugged Marcus. “It’s okay.” 

Present

“And now here we are. Honestly, I wish all our problems were that I was a control freak over grades and Marcus punched people out.” 

Marcus nodded. “Preach.” 

“But they aren’t. Superbeings want to rip our guts out because we apparently can stop a world-ending event,” Cally sighed. 

Marcus folded his arms and thought for a moment. “What are we even supposed to do to stop it, anyways? Is there a superweapon we have to stop? Do we have to go to space and bring down a spaceship or something?” 

“I dunno.” 

“Hmmm...Hey, big guy! Do you know?”

“Sorry, I have no idea what the others are planning. Me and Spyper have barely heard anything about this whole situation,” Intelligent sighed.

“Well, what have you heard?” Ari asked earnestly.

Intelligent paused for a moment and closed his book. “I don’t know if it’ll help much, but I have heard that the Freaks found something they could use to turn everyone on the planet into Freaks. What that thing is, where it’s being kept, or if it can be destroyed, I don’t know.” 

"Sh@t. Anyone you know who may know something?" 

Spyper glanced to the back of his van. “We do know someone who may know. She works for HECU.” 

"I count four who fit that description," Cally said, eyes taking on a pink tint. 

Spyper paused. “Is Rudra included in that count?” 

"Yes. So is the scientist everyone is scared of for some reason." 

“Oh. Yeah, that would be Anita.” 

"What's her deal?" 

Ari shifted. “Is she evil?” 

“Well...I wouldn’t say she’s evil, but she is crazy,” Spyper shrugged. 

“How crazy?” 

“She builds weapons of mass destruction for fun.” 

“And wants to dissect us for ‘science.’” 

“Hmm… don’t like that,” Marcus winced. 

“Don’t worry, she’s not as evil as Brutal and his pals.” 

“That’s good,” Ari nodded. 

“But enough about that. We need information. And to get to safety. Spyper?” Intelligent turned to his buddy, who grinned and started his van.

[theholycovenantrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, MIMZ! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF RAPHAEL.

Admin Rosey: I never really thought that Raphael’s application would be so f u n to read. Macabre? Absolutely. Impassioned? Of course. But hilarious to the point where I was giggling? Definitely unexpected but that is what made this so enjoyable and it is ultimately why this application received a r e s o u n d i n g yes from each of us. There was a perspective that I always envisioned for Raphael but was never able to articulate it myself until you laid it out, word by word, with this application, Mimz. Raphael is such a multi-faceted and character that holds so much potential, and the way that you wove it into every aspect of the application made this so fun to read. Thank you so much for taking the time to produce such a wonderful application! Your faceclaim change to Kendrick Sampson has been approved. Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias 

mimz

Age

21

Personal Pronouns

she/her

Activity Level

i’ll typically check the dash every day, and i try not to keep replies stewing for longer than a couple of days! that said i can be a little slow, especially around exam seasons.

Timezone

pst

Triggers

REMOVED

How did you find the group?

miss minnie bleubeard’s blog

IN CHARACTER

Character

raphael, with a fc change to kendrick sampson

What drew you to this character? 

short answer: divine amorality sexy HAHAHAHA

long answer: there was something i read a little while ago about some of the best surgeons being able to dehumanize their patients to a rather frightening degree. there’s a level of abstraction that you need in order to not let your empathy get in the way of the practice of medicine; ultimately, a body is a body is a body, right? and then there’s the moral quandary of healing - it is a doctor’s duty to heal, but what does that actually mean? to what extent is a doctor’s duty to relieve suffering? to obstinately prolong life? if the body heals but the mind still ails, is a person healed? what i’m getting at, here, is that in some ways the healer is the most dangerous character of all. 

when i read raphael’s bio, there was a quote in that article from a surgeon named david cheever that came to mind: “as a result of anaesthetics, the surgeon ‘need not hurry; he need not sympathise; he need not worry; he can calmly dissect, as on a dead body.’” to me, raphael is an explosion and expansion of this concept. raphael is, quite literally, a medical ethicist’s worst nightmare, and to me, that’s absolutely fascinating. without sympathy, what separates a healer from an educated control freak with a god complex? with raphael, we can extend this concept to its furthest extreme. raphael isn’t even human - how could he even begin to sympathize with an experience so foreign to him? why would he worry about something trivial as human suffering when it essentially exists as a theoretical concept to him? divine beings have no reason to play by human rules, and as a creature raised by god’s side raphael was so far removed from the concept of human suffering that it’s sort of a no-brainer that he developed a sick fascination with it, like a child who managed to con their parent into buying a grand theft auto game and is obsessed with running over pedestrians because the stakes never quite feel real. it’s a perspective i’d absolutely love to explore in a group rp setting because the nature of rp means that it’s kind of...completely unsustainable? like as writers we’re shoving these characters together, which means that raphael will have to be exposed to mortals. there’s room for a lot of character development there, and it seems like something extremely interesting to explore.

BUT HERE’S THE THING⁠—and this is where the character gets really fun, in my opinion. i’ve talked a fair bit about god complexes already, but when applied to raphael an interesting question is raised: how much is a complex, and how much of it is actually being divine? what really made me want to get my grubby little hands on the reins of raphael’s story was seeing the disconnect between the way his connections are written from raphael’s perspective versus the other character’s perspective. it’s a fun little hubristic shade that makes him an unreliable narrator and infinitely more interesting than a simple morality thought experiment. i think it’s easy to see raphael as this super cool, all-powerful master manipulator (i think that’s a pretty accurate take on his self-image, in fact), but he’s not the only player in this game. for every pawn he’s trying to move, there is someone else trying to use him in a similar way, and i don’t know that he truly understands the ramifications of that. see, i think it’s easy to reduce raphael to the points i discuss in the previous paragraphs because that’s what he wants you to think of him. but this is a world of gods and superpowers and magical political intrigue and game of thrones doesn’t exist so nobody can tell him that he’s on the path to becoming a cersei lannister (admittedly i haven’t watched got so this reference might not be right but i feel like it’s right so uh. yeah!). maybe i just like to see arrogant men getting knocked down a peg? this might be a projection of that. i dunno. i just know that there are quite a few mind games and mental gymnastics to untangle with raphael and that’s fun. he’s fun.

also. i would like to once again reiterate: divine amorality sexy. it’s not good, to be clear, and i don’t condone it, but i’m just saying.

What future plots do you have in mind for the character?

WHEN  THE  CITY  CRUMBLES  AROUND  YOU  AND  YOU  HOLD  ITS VESTIGES  IN  YOUR  HANDS,  WHOM  DO  YOU  BLAME?

i think Raphael’s big character arc revolves around a simple question: how far are you willing to go to achieve what you want? 

ostensibly, it’s an easy answer: very far. but when your desire is antithetical to your very purpose, when chasing it puts you at odds with the thing you’ve worked to build, do the goalposts move?

(the correct answer is that raphael did not build caelum. he simply destroyed god.)

let’s say, hypothetically, that raphael gets what he wants. the world is thrown into war and chaos and destruction, yadda yadda, raphael gets his blood and his suffering, great. he’s lived through this before (a couple times, actually), so you think he’d realize by now—eventually, the dust will settle. people will tire of suffering. and where will that leave raphael? how many times will you remake the world to watch it burn? can you ever be fulfilled chasing a temporary high? 

(the correct answer is no, but raphael is an immortal being. more importantly, he is a patient one. he will wait a million days for rome to be built, if only to witness the single day in which it will burn.)

i think raphael needs to reckon with these questions. i think he’s lived far too long with his mentality unquestioned and that has made him both insufferable and a major threat to society. this is a long and pretentious way to say that raphael honestly kind of needs a hobby whatever the thc-verse equivalent of therapy is, but i think any sort of positive character development is contingent upon a recontextualization of suffering and chaos and raphael’s masks.

of course, this isn’t to say that introspection will only lead to positive character development. perhaps a raphael who looks deeper into his psyche will come to understand that his desires outweigh his role; perhaps such thoughts will push raphael over the edge of propriety and into something more outwardly despicable. no matter what, though, i think that the direction of raphael’s character development will be largely shaped on how he decides to prioritize his⁠ roles and goals. 

FOR  WHOM  DO  THESE  HANDS  HEAL?

let’s discuss the archangels, shall we? despite it all, raphael genuinely loves his brothers. i would argue, even, that raphael believes that his scheming is in service to the other archangels; he’s not blind to the way complacency has softened the angels. at this point, the only true threat to the angels is themselves—if michael wants to to unlock a state of sanctifying grace, it will happen at the hand of one of his kin. 

i spoke earlier about raphael’s goals ultimately being futile. this is largely because they are diametrically opposed to michael and gabriel’s goals, and while raphael knows this intellectually, i don’t think he’s quite thought about what the long-term implications of that conflict entails. he’s so caught up in the conflict between michael and gabriel that he’s neglected to consider how he factors into the dynamic. could he be the common ground that brings michael and gabriel together? could he be the final straw that breaks them apart? he is excited for the fighting, the fallout; but has he stopped to consider what the long-reaching effects of such a rift may be?

raphael is breaking his family apart because he loves them. will that be enough, when he is sent to pick up the pieces? whose side will he fall on, if he is to pick a side at all? 

DID  PYGMALION  FALL  IN  LOVE  WITH  THE  BEAUTY  OF  HIS  CREATION,  OR  THE  BEAUTY  HE  CREATED?

i said this in the previous section but i’d like to reiterate it: i think a big reason raphael is Like That is because the stakes have never quite felt real to him. raphael’s a pot stirrer, but he’s not a creature of action. to this, i say give him real stakes. to be honest, i don’t know exactly what that entails, because i could see a number of ways in which tangible pressure manifests itself for raphael. perhaps his meddling with michael and gabriel steps too far, and his brothers  perhaps the angels become suspicious of his maneuvering, in which the spider is drawn into his own web of intrigue. maybe we apply positive pressure, where the ails of the world require a healer and raphael is tapped to higher purpose⁠—and higher power. maybe raphael will find himself tempted by the very demons he holds in contempt. 

the point is that raphael has largely been a character who acts through others. even now, we see this through his grooming of romilda, with his subtle manipulation of michael and gabriel. i want him to become a more active character, either by his own volition or by his hand being forced. 

similarly, i’m extremely interested in seeing how raphael navigates the political elements of this verse. i expect it stings a bit to be the only archangel not given a position of leadership; perhaps he holds lingering resentment toward zadkiel for being given a role raphael had expected to receive. does he subtly undermine zadkiel’s leadership? i want to watch him play up tensions with the vices, to hide a vicious war-hawk perspective under the guise of a concerned healer. i want him to smile in abaddon and samael’s faces and plot their suffering in his mind. i want to see the snake slither in the grass, to return to his original form as a spider spinning a web of intrigue across his court. yes, i want a more active raphael, but i think the political drama is ripe for development, as well.

WHEN  I  SPIT  UP  MY  SINS  AND  BEG  FOR  REPENTANCE,  WHAT  WILL COME  UP?

this one’s a long shot, but i could maybe...see...raphael……..falling. i can guarantee you that the idea has never even crossed raphael’s mind, and that he would literally rather be smited than be cast out of caelum, but i can see it. i think he might be happier, actually; if he fell, he could really lean into the chaos and suffering thing without any compunction.

of course, this is something infinitely easier said than done. were raphael to be cast out of caelum, he would have nowhere to go. infernum would never take him⁠—he’s made far too many enemies among their ranks. he could wander the holy land, but he’s far too proud to bind himself to its existing social systems. (he wouldn’t be able to look gabriel in the eye.)

raphael would have absolutely nothing. 

but he would also be free.

that’s right, i think that a horsemen-style liberation arc would be an absolute banger for raphael. again, i don’t think it’s feasible unless a very specific set of circumstances happen, but just imagine a raphael with nothing to lose, free to go absolutely apeshit. his only prerogative is to make sure you have a bad day. he is free to sow whatever chaos, whatever suffering he so wishes across the land. WHEW.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character?

yes, but i don’t see him going down easily.

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation

entomological curiosity, in short. consider: why did god leave the apple in the garden of eden? why do humans keep animals in glass cases? why do children burn ants with magnifying glasses?

raphael wants to observe the world. a good healer must understand his patients at a fundamental level, and such truths are only revealed when the subject is broken down to its basest parts. you see, raphael was weaned on temperance and virtue; there is a lush decadence to emotional extremes that he finds most fascinating. they are debased. they are crass. they are wantonly sentimental, in a garishly beautiful way.

but this is not all. he wants to stave off boredom, and these are the tools he has to play with. for all of his machinations, raphael is a simple being. raphael has no grand ambitions, no lofty ideals, and that is what makes him so dangerous. he wants to be amused. he wants to be stimulated. he wants to observe a world in which things happen.

ostensibly, this is not as selfish a motivation as it may seem. as a healer, raphael knows something that many do not: serenity cannot exist in perpetuity. it is impossible for the world to remain unchanged⁠—even if the change is not evident, it is happening. an eternal peace is all but a stagnation of the kingdom; the only thing stagnation breeds is degradation. the angels are weakening because they are not being challenged. michael and the virtues may be doing extensive research to find an alternate explanation, but raphael knows this to be the truth. 

of course, the irony underlying the selfless explanation of raphael’s motivations reveals the truth of the matter: it is a farce. perhaps it is a lie that raphael has even convinced himself he believes, but it is farcical nonetheless. raphael claims he wants to invoke change because stagnation is dangerous, but riddle me this⁠—if this is true, why has raphael never changed? centuries upon centuries have passed, and the world has changed around him, but raphael himself has remained largely unchanged. he is the orchestrator of change, not its agent nor its subject, and that is just the way he would like things to stay.

Character Traits

CHARISMATIC - there’s a reason very few have cottoned on to raphael’s true nature, and it’s not (just) his pretty face and magical girl-esque aura. there’s something effortlessly captivating about raphael, a pace to his cadence that has you hanging on to his every word, a lightness to his smile that makes you want to coax it out whenever and however you can. everything about raphael puts people at ease, except for his eyes, which tend to put people on edge if he’s not careful. he’s not gregarious or the outgoing sort of charismatic by any means, but he does manage to exude an overwhelming charisma.

PATIENT - it’s important to remember that before raphael turned on god, he waited for him. raphael performed healings for centuries and never raised a hand against his father in that time. think of all the angels that fell, that rebelled; raphael was not among them. no, raphael played the dutiful son, allowing his resentment to fester and boil deep underneath his skin, but never to surface. for centuries he served loyally, biding his time. remember: lucifer fell. raphael did not. which one killed god? as i mentioned in the plot section, raphael will wait a million days for rome to be built to witness the single day it burns. prolonged suffering is perhaps the most beautiful of all. fortitude goes hand-and-hand with patience.

INTELLIGENT - in a few ways. raphael is well-studied, with extensive knowledge of biology and chemistry and history and politics. raphael is emotionally intelligent; he hides his true nature behind a veneer constructed to meet expectations. he may not be as talented as gabriel in this regard, but it is a skillful construction nonetheless.

MANIPULATIVE - i mean. yeah.

ARROGANT - he thinks he’s smarter than god???????????????? tbf god was a bit of a headass in this universe but we’ve all read enough tragedies to know where this kind of hubris ends up going.

CRUEL - there’s a bit to unpack here. i’d argue that there are two types of cruelty: malicious cruelty and callous cruelty. raphael is certainly capable of both, but i think he embodies the latter. with certain notable exceptions, raphael’s cruelty is rarely personal; it is a thoughtless sort of cruelty, the type inflicted upon beings considered expendable. raphael is selfish and petty and powerful, and these traits coalesce into a casual cruelty. 

In-Character Para Sample cw: light gore

Look at how they look at him. God’s good little lambs, lined up all in a row, passive and pliant and patiently awaiting benediction. Patiently waiting for Raphael. 

Raphael hates them.

No. This is false. It is difficult for Raphael to muster up stronger feelings toward mortals than a vague sort of amusement, the sort of affinity one might have for a particularly stupid kit when it does something surprisingly clever. In this regard, he understands that he differs from his kin. Gabriel, in particular, has developed a particular fondness for the mortals. Why anyone would wish to strip mortals of their most fascinating behavior⁠—to the point of openly defying their Father⁠—is beyond Raphael. He has given up on trying to reason with his brother on the matter. 

The first supplicant is beckoned forward. They pray to the Lord and Raphael touches their forehead with one palm, cups their chin with the other. His fingers splay carelessly around a throat all but bared to him and the ceremony is so mechanical Raphael allows his thoughts to wander⁠. 

How easy it would be to tighten his grip. How beautiful it would be, to watch the lamb’s naive adoration flash into fear, to watch fear darken into betrayal and resentment and the most beautiful emotion of all: despair. He can feel the pulse at his fingertips. It would quicken in a stress response, he knows. It would quicken, then it would pound, and then maybe it would stop.  It all falls to Raphael’s whim. In this moment, Raphael holds their life in his hands. They have all but laid on his sword for the promise of absolution and when they look up at Raphael with their dumb, trusting eyes he can see the sparkling tracks where tears once fell, down the hollow of a cheek into the pool of a collarbone. He finds himself overcome with the desire to trace the fall with his tongue. “Give me your pain,” he murmurs. Let me taste it. Let me understand. 

He takes it. He does not taste it. He does not understand.

He releases the mortal. Those beautiful tear tracks are already fading. “The Lord be with you,” he says, and perhaps he even means it. His Father’s gaze burns into his back, even from a world away. He’d laugh at the irony, were he free to. Is this the weight you so desire? he wants to ask the devotee. No, Raphael knows the truth: God’s love is a shackle. God’s love is a leash and it is holding Raphael back from his fullest potential.

“And also with you,” the lamb responds. Their head is bowed obediently in prayer and they shuffle away, appropriately awed. The next supplicant is beckoned forward.

The light of Raphael’s presence obfuscates the darkness in his eyes.

— 

Later, much later, Raphael finds himself studying his hands. He flexes them, balls them into fists, stretches his fingers as far as they will spread. 

How easy it would be to tighten his grip.

The hand is at once an individual unit and a summation of individual parts. The hand contains twenty-seven bones and thirty-four muscles connected by over a hundred ligaments and tendons. Wrists connect to metacarpals, which connect to carpals, which taper off into delicate phalanges. Individually, each of these parts are largely useless; were Raphael to take a scalpel and drag it through a tendon, across the joints, the strings would be cut and the puppetry would cease to dance. You would be left with a small pile of carpals and metacarpals and phalanges, loose strings of muscle and tendon. At times, it is difficult to fathom how such mundane component parts are the instruments of extraordinary acts.

Raphael flexes his hand, watches bone shift under skin. If he remembers correctly, mortals have an idiom about knowing your hands, or something along those lines. He will not pretend to be familiar with mortal culture. Did you know that, wings aside, mortals and angels all have the same bone structure? 

Of course you did. It is common knowledge that God made all beings in His image, or so the story goes. 

This is an easy answer, but one with interesting implications. Let us extrapolate. If mortals and angels are essentially biological mirrors, and each are made in the image of God, does that mean that God will bleed like His creations? Slide a scalpel across God’s knuckles—will His puppets cease to dance?

Raphael could find out. It would take only a single blade, sliced through a single tendon. 

Now, Raphael is not so arrogant to believe himself the blade. He would not even consider himself the hand. Such a role requires a particular kind of conviction—

( —and that sort of conviction is made manifest in bitter disillusionment⁠—the sort inflicted upon Michael. How easy it would be to find himself in his brother’s ear, whispering of their Father’s capriciousness and the unnecessary cruelty that resulted for the poor, poor humans— )

( —and that sort of conviction is made manifest in righteous anger⁠—the sort inflicted upon Gabriel. How easy it would be to find himself in his brother’s ear, whispering of their Father’s neglect and the unnecessary cruelty that resulted for the poor, poor humans— )

( —and that sort of conviction is made manifest in a whetted hunger⁠—the sort God gifted to each of His angels. Hunger breeds hunters and heaven is full— )

—that Raphael simply cannot embody. Rage has never been his forte. 

Consider, however, that the hand is controlled by nerve impulses. A spark is all the hand needs to transform from a collection of bone to an agent of action. Yes. He clenches his fists. Here are the bones, the veins, the tendons, the muscle. Angels and mortals all share the same bone structure.

Does God?

Extras

pinterest.

raphael has classically beautiful wings. i’m talking TEXTBOOK cherubic angel wings, with the sweeping white feathers and all. raphael kind of hates them, though he takes a great deal of pride in them.

raphael doesn’t have a signature weapon. he’s proficient with blades, yes, and fights with a surgeon’s precision, not the strongest nor the fastest but eerily efficient in his blows. but he is a healer—at the end of the day, his empty hands are all he needs. (his empty hands are what you should fear.)

raphael hates the heretics pro forma but. but. he cannot deny a certain...fondness for them. the heretics exhibited such dedication to a futile cause; they believed their suffering to be something noble. it’s a laughable notion, certainly, but a sentiment so distinctly human it’s almost charming. should they wish to return, to throw themselves on the knife over and over and over, well. raphael shall not complain. he shall smile beatifically, perhaps abate their suffering, even⁠—and watch them do it again. 

in a modern au, raphael is a reality tv producer. ok actually he’s probably a surgeon but i think he’d make a very good reality tv producer. alternately, there is a universe out there where raph fixated on like...baking, or k-pop, instead of suffering. those are good timelines, i think. maybe not the k-pop stan timeline.

raphael is the living embodiment of that dwight schrute “we need a new plague” meme.

[pynkhues]

fortheloveoftagalog replied to your post “I just read the new TV Insider interview with Bans and Krebs and I...”

@pynkhues thanks for this post...what strikes me and I think a big part of the Fandom is the work taken to redeem Dean when we still have very little POV for Rio. Its sad that the fans have to be using snippets of Brio to try to understand the underlying meaning of the actions when there are so many creative things the writers could do...you guys do it all the time in your writing and these are professionals. While their aim may not be to do what the fans want the success of the show rests with fans. I know as a shipper from a previous show that got canceled because of poor writing and development. This season was very poorly done and I believe Bans and Kerbs( i may have gotten his name wrong) will need to go back to the drawing board. The whole issue of marketing Brio is also terribly deceptive on their part because I do believe the plan was to make fans side with Beth and the girls with trying to kill Rio because he ordered the hit on Lucy not realizing that him doing this inspite of her innocence was the best thing to do for the business that ultimately involves the girls we are all cheering for. Fans love Rio because of how Manny plays him which is not one dimensional...he plays him like how thugs really are...human just probably mostly bad but capable of good and love and in his case respect and a code. Why redeem Dean and not give Rio a POV?

You’re welcome, and thanks for commenting! :-)

SO. There are a few things to unpack in your reply. 

I’ll start with the simplest - the writers don’t have any say in the marketing of the show. It is frustrating that the promos feature Brio so heavily when the story itself doesn’t, but that’s an NBC thing, and it’s based on what the network knows picks up traction, not a Good Girls creative team thing. So you can’t blame them for the way the show is promoted (hell, never forget that the NBC marketing team called Annie Amy in a press release! I will never not be furious at the disrespect, haha). If there’s anyone to blame for Brio-focused promos, it’s all of us, for being so obsessed, haha.

I also strongly disagree that this season was very poorly done. It’s cool if you didn’t like it, and there are definitely things I didn’t like about it too, and places I felt the scripts needed further development, and sure, places where I personally would’ve made different creative decisions, but on the whole, I actually found the overall writing strong, the angle compelling (albeit sometimes frustrating), and most of the payoffs pretty satisfying. 

I also....hmmm. I don’t really know how to articulate this, haha. But look, as somebody who writes professionally and works for a successful, internationally-touring theatre company? I can guarantee you whose side the audience is on is very rarely at the forefront of any writer’s’ mind. 

Stories aren’t about sides or teams. 

They’re stories. 

And stories are usually designed to pose questions, to explore moral lapses, to better understand psyches. Stories – in my experience – like to splay people out and dissect them, not champion them or cheerlead. 

This show has never been a superficial, ra-ra-sisterhood story that tells us Beth, Annie and Ruby are perfect gals just doing what they have to. In fact, it’s the opposite. It’s positioned them, since the very first episode, as three deeply flawed women who are broken by their respective circumstances who want to survive and thrive for their children. We’re not supposed to agree with all their choices, but we should understand them (and the spaces where we don’t are reflective of the flaw in the writing, not the character making the choice in the first place). 

As for Rio, yeah. I get it. I agree in a lot of ways. I do think Rio’s role should’ve been fleshed out more in s3 (not heaps or anything, but a bit, yes), and I think the show teased opportunities for it – particularly through Turner and Rhea, and then pivoted away at the last minute whether through cold feet or narrative confusion or thematic frustration or wanting to keep the mystery alive, I’m not sure! But the last minute dip-out definitely happened! 

I do actually understand the hesitation of pulling attention too far away from the girls though. The thing is, Rio has functioned as a narrative island which I talked a lot about in this post, and the reality is that building out his world would require a drastic narrative expansion, a deep financial investment in terms of the production itself (something we can get away with in fic because, y’know, we’re creating for free), and a pull away from the story that the show is trying to tell.

I know, I know, we’ve seen storyworld expansions with both Dean and Stan this season, but both those expansions fed directly back into the girls’ stories – from Stan and Ruby’s push-pull to the heist, to Dean almost (definitely) cheating and Beth buying Four Star Pools and Spas, but I mean... 

Haven’t we seen storyworld expansion with Rio this season too? It might not have been what everyone wanted, but we got to know his bar really well, got to meet his ex, got to know his boy better, and his tastes and habits a little more. 

That’s actually pretty massive for a show that introduces minimal details about it’s main characters (I mean - - I dare you - - try to tell me five three things each about Beth and Annie, and Ruby’s respective parents).This show thrives as a plot and pace driven show, not a character study, and the result is we don’t know as much as we want about the characters unfortunately. Which is a bit of a shame! Because man! This show has some wonderful characters. 

[decayinginred]

Have any headcannons about Ruben and Laura before the fire? Or if the fire never happened at all?

God, it’s been so long since I got a TEW ask. I’ve plenty of headcanons about the two of them (my most problematic ship lol). Here’s what I have from before the fire:

Despite being far too old to be considered a playmate for her younger brother, Laura always made time for him. Although Ruben’s version of “play” tended to be dissecting animals, she still showed interest in what he was doing. 

At nighttime, Laura would always tell Ruben horror stories to put him to sleep. Although this tended to turn into a debate on how “logical” some of her monster stories were. Laura would always laugh. Her favourite was a woman turned into a grotesque spider-like creature who bathed in the blood of those who wronged her...

Ruben adored his sister. Considering she was the only person he spent time with, he developed a somewhat innocent crush on her. Nothing at all like the incestuous love/lust he has for her in his later years, manifested from his obsession over her death and his psyche cracking further. 

The dubious crush is completely one-sided, however.

Laura gives the best hugs.

Both siblings are polar opposites to one another. Laura is a social butterfly who is artistic and adores fantasy. Ruben despises the company of others who are not his sister, scientific and methodical to the core. 

Despite their glaring differences, each delight in the other’s interests and skills.

Laura practised ballet in her youth. Grew out of it in her teens, much to her mother’s dismay. She’ll sometimes rope Ruben into dancing with her. Even though he complies begrudgingly, he enjoys every moment.

Ruben learned how to draw from Laura - he once asked her to help him draw an accurate diagram for the human brain.

Both speak fluent Spanish, French, and Latin.

Laura is fiercely protective of her little brother. When their father berates/punishes his, she’ll always defend him - even if it gets her into trouble as well. She’ll secretly plead with their mother to convince Ernesto to change his mind. It rarely ever did.

Ruben always got jealous when Laura’s suitors came to the house. She found it cute and laughed. 

She promised him that no matter what happens to both of them in life - marriage, moving away - they would always have each other.

Ruben likes giving Laura sunflowers - their bright and beautiful, just like her.

Laura’s favourite flowers are roses. She doesn’t have the heart to tell him, and insists that sunflowers are her treasure. Not entirely a lie. 

That’s all that I can think of off the top of my head. Probably have a few more floating around but it’s so late rn. I miss them so much. :’(

Thank you for letting me indulge in my love headcanons about them.

[dust2dust34]

Just wanted to say thanks for being optimistic and excited about the prison arc! Lots of people in the fandom are being so negative about it and saying how boring it is.... I’m like, are they watching the same show?? The prison stuff is more interesting than what’s going on in Star City (besides Felicity taking charge) to me. Probably because Diaz is such a snooze that I feel like Oliver is really the only one in deep shit right now. Plus seeing him kick ass by himself is beyond refreshing!

Heck. YES.

Like, this guy isn’t fucking around:

Chills. Actual chills, my friends.

I agree about the prison stuff being more interesting than what’s happening in Star City. Save for everything Felicity Smoak (aka Queen of Being Done With Everyone’s Shit), I am 1000% more fascinated by Oliver’s arc in prison. I think a lot of people aren’t enjoying how separated he is from everyone, especially Felicity. A lot of the show is the characters and their interactions with each other, and the show is doing something wildly different by isolating their main character completely. 

The thing for me is that I really love Oliver Queen. He pisses me off so much, how he’s written gets under my skin, what they do with him makes me rage, but at the end of the day,

I love Oliver Queen. 

I am here for his journey as much as I’m here for the relationships he has with everyone, including Felicity. I think that’s a huge part of why I’m loving his arc so far in Season 7. That, and holy shit it’s so dark and vicious and violent and painful and angry and depressing and basically all the fun things characters get tortured with. Like, this is my jam, anon. I AM HERE FOR THIS VIOLENT SHIT. There’s a reason why I love shows like Daredevil and The Punisher, the shows that dig in super deep and dissect a character. I feel like we’re getting a bit of that with Oliver and this prison arc. In addition, as much as I want to know how all of this will play out with the outside forces (getting out of prison, Diaz, getting back to his family, facing the fact he’s been outed as GA, etc.), I’m so fascinated by what all of this is doing to his psyche. We know a lot of the horrible stuff this man has been through, what he has had to overcome, the enemies he’s had to beat, the sacrifices he’s had to make, as well as the lessons he’s learned along the way, the people he’s accepted into his life, the connections he’s made. This arc is stripping a lot of that away and we’re seeing a different Oliver Queen, one that’s always been buried in there, but one that hasn’t had the opportunity to come out, not since the very beginning of the show. Really, since his time in the Bratva, when he literally skinned a man for practice. This is a man willing to do anything, no matter the cost, to get back to his family, and that begs the question: what would this “new” version of Oliver do if he was pushed to the ultimate extreme? Oliver in Season 1 would have had no problem killing everyone in the prison, but he’s grown so much... but that doesn’t change that that old Oliver is still in there, and I think that’s part of the lesson, that you can grow and change, but it doesn’t erase those parts of you, no matter what you do. We’ve already seen him having to make some incredibly hard decisions, having to do things he never would had this occurred anywhere else, and he’s already so dark as a result of it. This is the literal opposite of the man we’ve seen over the last few seasons and that gets to the amazing core of what I love about Oliver so much: 

He has so much light, as much as he has so much dark - he’s the ultimate balance, which is what makes him the ultimate hero.

I’ve always blabbered on about Oliver being on a pendulum throughout the seasons - he started out in the dark and for the first three he swung towards the light, and then we see him swinging back towards the dark (Seasons 4-5), but this swing is shorter, just as his swing back to the light (Season 6) is a bit shorter and then back to the dark (Season 7). He’s slowly but surely finding the balance between all the parts of himself. He can’t deny any of it, because it’s part of who he is, and right now we’re getting to see the truly vicious and terrifying side, that part that really makes him the formidable vigilante Green Arrow.

Ugh I LOVE IT SO MUCH. GIVE ME MORE OF THIS VIOLENT VIOLENCE:

(gifs)

Another great thing is that he can’t hide behind the Green Arrow anymore - this is Oliver Queen, just like he’s still Oliver Queen when he puts the hood on, as much as he’s still the Green Arrow when the hood is off. It’s the beginning of him correlating that within himself since his identity has been revealed. So good. So delicious. SO YUMMY. 

Anyway, heck yes, anon, I’m glad I’m not alone! I’m loving this arc so much!

(And right about him kicking ass? The most annoying in some of the previous seasons was how bad at fighting he is, and he’s so not?! Season 4 was a damn joke, but then here he is, labeled as extremely lethal, because he is, and it’s about time the show recognized that consistently, and it looks like we are.)

[kbrown78]

Top 5 Wednesday

https://www.goodreads.com/group/show/118368-top-5-wednesday

Topic: Books Featuring Mental Health

This was a very difficult topic to discuss. Not only is it a sensitive topic because of how many people can struggle with their mental health but also because it's a topic that I think should be talked about but I'm not exactly qualified to do that. I also wasn't sure to what extent mental health needed to be featured, if it needed to be the focus of the story or if it just needed to be present. All of my entries feature protagonists that I think has mental health issues, and I will try my best to dissect the problems the protagonist must deal with and how this impacts the character and the story.  

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath: This one makes the top of the list for a few reasons. It is a book that entirely revolves around the protagonist, Esther, dealing with her depression, and it's also the one I can talk about best because depression is something I deal with myself. This is a book that really resonates with me and I think does a good job at capturing what it feels like to have depression. It's this heavy emptiness that weighs down on you and leaves you in an immobile state. No motivation to do anything because it's pointless. Having your whole life set before you only for it to be ripped away. Comparing yourself to others and coming to the conclusion you'll always be second best. Being overwhelmed by life itself and being unsure of what to do. These are all things that I've experience myself and do usually trigger my depression. I like this book because it understood me, but it also shows the effect that the lack of a care of mental health can have negative effects on people. Many professionals are dismissive because the character is a woman, but their only solution seems to be to subject her to electric shock therapy treatments, which just sounded terrifying and doesn't work because they aren't addressing the cause of the problem. By the end of the book, the protagonist doesn't seem to have improved at all, she's just become better at hiding her issues because that's the only way the rest of society will accept her. Granted she does seem to slightly improve by doing things she wasn't able to do before. There's also a connection between Esther's depression and the pressure to be a married and a mother, and while I can't connect to that part but it does make for good discussion material. Undoubtedly my interpretations of this novel are colored by my own personal experience, but it is a poignant novel about depression and conforming to society ideals.    

2. The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins:  It may be a little surprising that this book is on this list, but when it popped in my head I realized that it really fit. While the primary focus of this book is on the revolution, it also takes time to analyze and satirize many things about our current culture (something the movies forget to do entirely), including how damaging war is to a persons psyche. Katniss suffers from PTSD, even before the Hunger Games has actually started. She has nightmares about her Dad being blown up and because of this death had to grow up very quickly to ensure that her family didn't starve to death because her mother was in catatonic state. As a result she comes off as very cold, trusting very few people, and seems to be desensitized to the injustices of her world and only cares if it affects her family, but she's also very resilient and a capable survivor. Both during and after the Hunger Games, Katniss's PTSD only gets worse as the world around her becomes more unstable and now she must watch those she cares about actually get killed. It reaches a breaking point in the third book where the majority of the story has a very dazed, depressing tone because Katniss has basically checked out of life, suffers frequent episodes of depression, and keeps herself on morphine. She's even seeing a therapist, because it's that bad. Let's not forget that she's just a teenager being thrust into a war that she didn't want to be a part of, which is guaranteed to screw up any kid. The trauma is so severe that even years after the war, when Katniss has kids, she still suffers from nightmares. Her recovery is an active process that takes years, but Katniss does little thing to remind herself that there is good in the world, like making the memorial book. Plus she has a good husband who understands what she's been through. War and trauma are serious things that have long reaching consequences and takes effort to recover from, and the way that The Hunger Games series demonstrates this is part of the reason it's become something of a modern classic.  

3. Love Letters to the Dead by Ava Dellaira: Much like the entry above,  this one is also about overcoming trauma. Unlike The Hunger Games though, it's on a much more personal level and the story focuses more on the trauma and grief and even guilt that the protagonist, Laurel, has suffered. The source of her suffering stems from her relationship with her older sister, who has recently perished. Laurel idolized her older sister, so much so that she tries to emulate her at the start of the book and it comes off as cringe worthy. This idolization was unhealthy and unrealistic but also didn't give the complete picture. Laurel's relationship with her sister both before and after her death was, complicated to say the least, and this has a strong impact on who Laurel is, but Laurel eventually comes to terms with the fact that both she and her sister are flawed and that isn't a bad thing. Also smothering your suffering doesn't make it better, or go away, and it's good to get help from people you know and trust. This book is similar to Perks of Being a Wallflower but I picked this one because it has a more positive and hopeful ending with recovering from trauma, which I felt Perks of Being a Wallflower lacked.          

4. Eliza and Her Monsters by Francesca Zappia: The protagonist in this book, Eliza, appears to suffer from social anxiety. As a result she struggles with relationships in the real world but seems to do well with internet relationships. After a new boy arrives at her school and starts to open up more to him. So there are thing I like about this one and there are things I don't like about this one. I don't like the fact that it was this new boy who's obviously going to be the love interest and only him that Eliza opens up to because it makes her growth feel more artificial. I like that the online friendships were treated as genuine ones because that's something that is both topical and can be a good way for people with social anxiety to interact. I don't feel that Eliza really grew as a person. Yes she starts going to therapy which I think could be helpful, but she still doesn't open up even to her own family and this is after her brothers confronted their parents about the big mistake they made and how it's going to negatively impact Eliza's online experience, which does lead into the other thing I liked about this book. Eliza can be selfish at times. She's put herself in bubble so that her entire world revolves around her, which is a very human thing to do, but even when the people she is closest with are clearly struggling all she wants to focus on is her own issues. This happened several times throughout the narrative, and  I appreciate for being there because it highlights the fact that the world doesn't revolve around you and part of being a better person is striking that balance between caring for yourself and caring for others close to you. Unfortunately this still made Eliza an unlikable character because she never realizes that she's at fault. This is definitely a decent book for talking about social anxiety or internet culture, but I can't say it's great because of the protagonist and romance.    

5. Ceremony by Leslie Marmon Silko: I actually forgot about this one because it was a required reading that I did in college, but it was actually one of two reads I enjoyed that semester. Like most of the other entries on this list, the protagonist suffers from PTSD during a time when PTSD wasn't really a thing (he's a recently returned WWII veteran). He's also half Caucasian and half Native American, which has made him an outsider his entire life, even among his own family. This was a beautifully written novel that also focuses on recovery, but in a very spiritual way where the protagonist learns to be accepting of himself and cutting out the toxic aspects of his life, like violence.

Thank You Everyone

Keep Calm and Keep Reading