#also just to be Completely clear. yes this concept is just to bleed out all the stupid brainthings that i come up with

[chompe-diem]

guys i'm thinking i might do another post of sillydumb things that will never happen soon

[bumblingbabooshka]

Read a fic about Tuvok having a history of self harm. It's a very short fic but it really interested me! So I wanted to doodle some stuff based on it - the first page is my interpretation of a certain summarized scene:

The concept of Tuvok's own self harm effecting T'Pel so viscerally was what got my attention most of all (as you can see) - I can imagine how much guilt that must have put on him and it's another, alien, dimension to struggling with mental health and one that would be interesting in Tuvok's position where he's now for the first time completely disconnected from his family and only has to contend with himself and his own mind. Once again, Vulcan identity is so fascinating!!! I love seeing what people do with it!

Page One: T'Pel bandages Tuvok's wrists in silence. She looks up at the man himself who's also watching the process. "It is done," she says. He does not seem to have heard her. "Tuvok," she prompts. He looks up. Speaking telepathically, he says "Yes. Your 'turn'." with some bitterness. He begins to bandage her wrists as she watches him. "There is no need for guilt," she says. Tuvok states "This is...familiar." We see a younger Tuvok; He is a teenager who appears disheveled and disturbed by the news he is receiving. An unseen individual, perhaps a guardian, says to him: "T'Pel is in the hospital." We see two knives, showing the passage of time. One is a common kitchen knife while the other is a ritual blade - they are both bloody. The guardian's words continue: "Tuvok. I implore you, stop." We see several women without defining facial features. They are both specific and representative - T'Pel and Janeway are clear and represent 'wife & friends' while the other Vulcan figure is perhaps 'family' (she could be Tuvok's mother, daughter, etc). "If not for her sake..." the unseen voice continues. "Then for your own." At that we see Tuvok appearing disturbed once again, however time has advanced. He is now aboard Voyager and lines emanating from him indicate that his bond to those previous figures has just been broken. For who's 'sake' does he have to preserve himself now? We see Tuvok alone in a severely darkened room - there appears to be a cushion in front of him. Is it for meditation or for a blade to sit upon? He appears to be bleeding. The word 'Stop' is in bold, hanging over him. It is unclear whether this is something he is thinking or the true end of his guardian's plea. Page Two has several unconnected Images. One: Tuvok is an incredibly disheveled looking teenager wearing an outfit indicating he is currently residing in the temple he was banished to at that time. He is looking down at his scarred wrist with an impassive yet very tired expression. He looks up, thinking "I feel...calm." An arrow pointing to him informs us that he has just unlocked a bad coping mechanism. Ostensibly as a 'quick fix' to the distress he was feeling at that time. Two: Tuvok is the same age but time has advanced a bit, indicated by his change in clothes. He is bandaging his wrists, looking as disheveled as ever. His 'quick fix' doesn't seem to have improved his health. He repeats mentally that this is the 'last time' - it can be assumed that he is referring to self harming. Three: Tuvok is an ensign under captain Sulu. This is his first stint in Starfleet. He is asked a question by a doctor, indicated by a question mark. "They're very old scars, doctor." Tuvok replies dismissively. Four: Tuvok is the same age but time has advanced a bit. He is lying on his bed in uniform, staring out at nothing in particular. The room is darkened and drenched in shadow. There is the indication of blood. An arrow looming over him states that he has relapsed. Five: A young Kathryn Janeway offers Tuvok a cup of what might be tea. "I'm here for you," she says, with a very concerned expression. Tuvok does not look at her. He sits with his steepled hands in his lap, staring down. He remains expressionless. There is a doodle of a ship identified as the USS Wyoming to orient us in time. Six: Tuvok and T'Pel hold hands and stare into what would be one another's eyes. Their facial features have been wiped clean. Tuvok's face is almost fully encased in an amorphous darkness which stretches across the space between them and leaks out of a hole in the middle of T'Pel's face which is being 'filled' by said darkness. The text above reads "All your rot bleeds into her." The darkness no longer has humanoid shape - there is a small white figure in its midst. It is unclear whether the darkness is emanating from the figure or threatening to swallow them. The text above reads "There isn't a scar on her that wasn't put there by you."

[hasufin]

This bothers me, but I can make sense of it.

Okay, first - yes, it’s pretty clear that rightwing ideology revolves around hurting other people. The people who are anti-abortion, anti-trans, anti-gay, anti-drag... they can’t articulate any real harm they’ve experienced. they have a completely made-up list of grievances which they heard from somewhere else.

And yes, while you may believe the liberal policies aren’t effective, you have to make up completely bonkers conspiracy theories “George Soros is using mind control lasers on the moon!” to come up with anything like a self-consistent narrative which doesn’t have the political left being obviously more compassionate and ethical than the right.

Aaaaaand, yes, as she points out, conservative policies aren’t just hateful, they’re also simply bad. They don’t work. Their economic policies make the vast majority of people poorer. Their healthcare policies make people less healthy. Their criminal policies result in mass incarceration AND make people less safe. They’re not just assholes, they’re incompetent assholes.

So why the hell does anyone vote for them?

First, to many people political party is an ethnicity. I often see people saying “Yes, Trump is a jerk but I’m a republican so what can I do?” That is, they see their political affiliation as immutable, like religion or their favorite sports team. And they’ve become entirely accustomed to their political leadership just not giving a damn what they have to say. (Try engaging with a republican politician as a constituent. No matter what you tell them, you’ll get a form response thanking you for your support of their policies.) Simply put, many republican voters feel locked in, especially because of how polarized the political climate is and how much the other side is demonized.

Second, they really do just hate the Other that much. They are perfectly aware that what they’re doing is meant to cause suffering. And they’re okay - more than just “okay” - with it. They view themselves as being in a culture war, and in war there are casualties. So long as it’s not THEM who’s bleeding, it’s fine. That they haven’t actually been hurt by any of these things just means they’ve managed to keep the war elsewhere.

Third, well, the statistics. The problem with statistics is, you can just not believe them. They won’t look you in the face and say “you’re calling me a liar?” They don’t have gut-wrenching anecdotes. They don’t even have pictures. They’re just numbers. Sure, I grew up in the municipality with the highest murder rate in the USA, but seeing as it only had 100,000 people the total number of murders was pretty low. It’s easy to dismiss. Pictures of poverty in NYC? The guy who tells you all about crime in Philadelphia? The preacher who tells you that San Francisco is full of drug users? They’ll confront you. They’ll insist you agree with them.

And, lastly... most of this stuff just doesn’t matter to most people. Until it does. It’s all a spectator sport. They don’t know any trans people. They’ve never been held at gunpoint. “The economy” is an abstract concept (until they get laid off, and then it’s personal and they’ll blame whoever they’re told to blame). What they “know” is that liberals look down on them, and want to tell them how to do things, and they’re the Bad Guys. So they hate liberals and none of the rest of this stuff matters.

Ultimately, the core problem is... you can’t reason someone out of a stance nthey didn’t reason themselves into.

Red States are broken. Firearm mortality, poverty, education, life expectancy, infant mortality, health care.

Republicans policies are the worst. We have the data.

Blue States do not have these same problems.

[gohyuck]

the purge: society

pairing: firefighter!san x reader

genre: purge au, angst, some fluff

warnings: mentions of violence (especially violence against cops), murder, blood, injury, weapons (guns, knives, metal baseball bats)

word count: 2.4k

note: this was originally meant to be a drabble and it’s still pretty short so i didn’t get to elaborate on the characters but honestly maybe i’ll explore a purge universe with ateez someday because this was fun (i’ve never watched any of the movies though so i’ll have to get on that)

“What the fuck?” 

He hadn’t expected to see anyone left alive on this street.

“Shut up and get down,” You hiss, reaching your good arm up to grab onto the man’s jacket collar before unceremoniously pulling him towards you. He stumbles, falling gracelessly onto you. A scream bubbles up in your throat as he accidentally puts pressure onto your already free-bleeding bicep, but you get ahold of yourself just in time, only letting the quietest of wounded moans escape you. 

“You’re the first person that hasn’t tried to kill me before talking to me all night - oh, shit,” The stranger trails off, swearing when you effectively stop him from speaking further by placing your switchblade right under his skin. It’s only then that he even pauses to take you in: your back is up by the police car door, sure, and your left arm has a massive gash in it, but you’re armed. There’s a pistol laying idly in your lap, kept company by a metal baseball bat. 

Not to mention, the knife at his neck. 

“What the hell are you doing, walking around unarmed and with a first aid kit? Also, how the hell are you unarmed and with just a first aid kit? What the fuck?” You let the questions out in a rapidfire fashion, and he can’t help but clock the slight rasp in your voice. It’s easier to recognize than the pained wheeze you’re trying very, very hard to suppress, but neither escape him. He’s trained to notice the little things, anyways. 

“You need to bandage that shit up,” The man ignores your questions, moving his head just enough to miss your blade but also enough to be able to look you in the eyes. “How long has it been bleeding?”

“That’s none of your business,” You grit out. “Answer my questions or I’ll kill you right here and now.”

“If I answer yours, will you answer mine?” For some reason, he doesn’t seem to be panicking just yet. His gaze is sincere, but it’s too solid to be that of a bona fide idiot. You suck in a breath of air. Threatening him would be so much easier if he didn’t seem like a nice guy. It’s hard enough to live through the night, you don’t need guilt on your hands, and you know you’re going to feel guilty when you kill him. And you will kill him.

You need that first aid kit. You’ll do anything for it.

Anything, starting off with lying. 

“Sure,” You reply, steeling yourself for any sudden movements he might make now that you’re faking amicability. Maybe he’ll believe you to be vulnerable and try for your pistol or your bat, or maybe he’ll be properly cruel and finish off your arm. You don’t want to think about it. He lets out a sigh of relief, and you can’t help but wonder if you’ve actually affected him after all. “Now speak.”

“Not unarmed, there’s a police-issue pistol in my jacket and a tactical knife in my jeans. I’m not totally nuts. First aid kit’s for my buddy, though, I’ll be real, you need it way more than him.” There’s something resembling concern in his expression as his eyes flit between your torn arm and your face, but that barely interests you. You haven’t truly registered anything after ‘police-issue’.

You lean in, pressing the edge of your knife against the skin directly above his adam’s apple. For the first time since you’d cornered him, your mystery purger’s breath hitches. His eyebrows draw together in confusion. It’s no matter. You no longer regret the fact that you’ll have to tear his jugular out yourself. 

“You’re a hog, huh,” You stare him down, any sympathy you might’ve had gone. For a moment, it seems as if he has no concept of what you’re saying. A second passes, though, and his gaze clears. 

“Firefighter,” He responds, though the word is garbled due to him attempting to keep his movements to a minimum. You pull back slightly, very slightly, to let him explain. “I… found a dead cop, jacked his pistol. I’ll show you my ID, if you want.” 

“Let me see it.” You nod your head at him as if giving him permission to live a little longer, though you both know full well that identity theft and identity fabrication are legal, too. Might as well see how much effort he puts into a fake. The man waits until you pull back just a bit more, enough to let him slowly reach his hand into his back pocket before producing a lanyard. 

You grab it out of his grip with your hurt arm, not willing to move your knife too far away from his throat. You simply don’t have a good enough read on - you glance down - San Choi, ACT Firefighter, Employee ID: 018-102-4 to allow yourself any leeway with him. 

His gently smiling face stares up at you from the plastic card, protected only by a clear sleeve connected to a red lanyard. San’s photo has black hair and an undercut, styled so his forehead is on display. A pair of dimples makes a guest appearance, and, overall, he seems like a genuinely sweet guy. The ID looks real, too, so maybe you aren’t totally fucked. 

The San under your knife has bleach blond hair that almost falls over his eyes, though you suppose you can’t blame him for skipping out on the hair product tonight. He seems slightly tanner than his photo, his skin beautiful even now as dust from the aftermath of the explosion starts to settle against it. 

Right. The explosion. 

Recalling the events leading up to you meeting San forces you to remember that you have a gaping, bloody gash in your left arm. You’re honestly lucky to be alive, having ducked and used the car you’re against for cover from flying debris after a building down the block had exploded. You’d just finished driving your knife into a cop’s side - third cop of the night, eighth of your career as a purge cop killer - to make sure that he was dead when you’d heard the bomb go off, and you’d dropped before even thinking about it. Something had hit your arm on the way down, and when the adrenaline had finally left your system, you’d taken note of your blood-soaked sleeve. 

You’d closed the car door after that, sealing your third murder of the night in the vehicle just so you could lean up against the door. It had been 6:31 in the morning then, and you had figured that someone would come by and kill you in the last moments before legality ensued again. You’d assumed that you’d fight, of course you would, but your arm being totally fucked definitely put a damper on your belief in your ability to overcome anyone or anything else. 

Instead of the disgruntled, trigger-happy purger you’d expected to eventually find, though, you’d been found by San Choi. San Choi, who’s currently staring at your wounded arm like it’s grown eyes and can stare back. 

“Come on, let me fix it up,” He pleads, lifting the kit up with the hand that’s farther from you. “You might not trust me, or whatever, but the purge is about to end as it is. I have a paramedic friend, Seonghwa, who’s taught me the basics of -”

“Shut the fuck up.” You tell him, though you’re quickly losing your bite. He obeys regardless. God, your arm really, really fucking hurts. Before pulling your knife back, you check the watch on your wrist. 6:47. Stay alive for 13 more minutes, 780 more seconds. You’ll be fine. You take the shakiest breath you’ve ever taken. 

You pull your knife away from him. 

Nothing happens. 

“I’m going to use an alcohol free wipe and then wrap gauze around your arm, okay? You’ll just have to hold out until we can get you to a working hospital after that,” San speaks as if he’s talking to a child, or a scared animal, and you can’t blame him. He doesn’t seem like a purger, but you technically are one. You wouldn’t put it past yourself to attack on a whim if you were him. He, very slowly and with his hands in your full view at all times, opens the kit and pulls out the requisite materials. 

“Gonna need you to rip your sleeve off above the cut.” He continues, leaning back as you bring your knife up to your clothes and slit the cloth right above your wound. You tear the remainder of the sleeve off your arm before throwing it behind you somewhere. San gently grabs ahold of your elbow - his palm is calloused in a way that tells you he lifts regularly, and you’re sure of this as he discards his jacket and you watch the muscles ripple in his arms under his thin black shirt - and places the wipe against your cut. 

Your reaction is instantaneous: now that you’re completely past the adrenaline stage, the feeling of something, anything against the gash has you reeling to cry out. Before you can even process that you’ve made a sound, a hand presses hard against the back of your head, shoving your mouth against San’s. 

He doesn’t know how else to shut you up. 

His lips are chapped, but the sensation of being kissed so suddenly jars you out of your pain. San attempts to pull back, and you can already feel the apologetic wince he’s about to give you, but he brushes over your wound with the wipe again and your pain doubles back. It’s you that pulls him in this time, pressing your lips to his sloppily but forcefully as if it’ll alleviate the burn in your arm. 

Kissing him only slightly muffles you at best, but you no longer care. The purge isn’t over yet. You could both die at any second. Hell, San could kill you at any second. His hand moves from the back of your head to cup your face as he leans in towards you to deepen the kiss. His lips are chapped, yes, but they’re soft. He tastes like mint and copper: there’s a cut in his lower lip. You don’t mind. 

San pulls away for a moment, but only does so to grab the gauze from the kit. Once he’s wrapped it around your arm once, twice, thrice, he leans back in and your mouth accepts his own eagerly, your other hand coming up to drape over his shoulder. Neither of you know why you’re doing this, kissing a stranger with such fervor as one of you bandages the other up, but you both know that there’s really nothing else to do. 

It’s only after he finishes taping you up that the two of you pull away fully. His eyes are still just as kind as you’d thought them to be at first, though his lips are far more swollen than they’d been mere minutes prior. You admire your handiwork, eyes tracing his features as he admires his own, thumb very, very gently running over your gauze. Both of you raise your heads to smile sheepishly at each other at the exact same time.

Three things happen in rapid succession. 

“Good?” San’s voice is barely above a whisper, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Just as you’re about to speak - 

“San!” A voice, low and hoarse, interrupts you, and you look up to see the barrel of a gun pointed directly at the space between your eyes. You’re frozen in place for a split second before you start reaching for your own pistol. Your fingers brush the grip when - 

The clock strikes seven, and sirens go off all around you, signalling the end of the purge. 

The gun is out of your face. Your hand moves off of your own.

“San,” The owner of the gun pays you no mind, suddenly, his entire focus on San. The gun-owner reaches a hand out, and the firefighter beside you takes it, allowing himself to get pulled up to his feet. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, Yunho, I’m totally good,” San responds, giving the taller man a cat-like grin of reassurance. Yunho’s got a fireman’s helmet on, and you suppose it’s good as protection. He must be a fellow firefighter, then. He’s tall, and though he’d seemed nothing short of severe mere moments ago, he seems softer, kinder now that the purge is over. The transformation is enough to give you whiplash. His right hand is wrapped in bandages, and this catches San’s sight at the same time it catches your own. “What the hell happened to you, though?” 

“That policeman you killed had buddies,” Yunho replies with ease, but you don’t miss San’s wince. Seems like he hadn’t just happened upon that police-issue pistol. You can’t help the small grin that fights to make its way across your face. “They tried to get into the station, we had to fortify ourselves. We’re mostly fine, just that Woo’s lost a finger. He’ll live once he stops whining about it. We were mostly worried about you, honestly, taking fucking forever just to find a first aid kit. Who’s this?”

Yunho moves the topic of conversation over to you so naturally that you barely even realize what has happened before San is reaching a hand out to you to pull you up to a standing position. You grab ahold of your pistol, though you shove the bat off your lap before allowing yourself to be brought up. Without thinking, you practically plaster yourself to San’s side. Now that he’s for sure what he told you he was, and now that you’re no longer in danger of dying, you can’t help but feel inexplicably connected to him even though neither of you know each other. San wraps an arm around your waist naturally, and neither of you miss Yunho’s eyebrow raise. Neither of you acknowledge it, either. 

“This?” San asks rhetorically, turning his head slightly to look at you. He’s smiling again, and you find that you want to see it more often. Maybe you’re experiencing the onset of delirium. You hope not. “This is…” 

“(Name),” You reply, being honest. There’s no need for you to lie. Besides, you owe San answers, right? You stick your uninjured arm out, letting Yunho shake your hand. San’s grip tightens around your waist. 

“I’m (Name).”

[sunflowervolvimp3]

garden (koh!harry)

Warnings: language

Pairing: king of hell!Harry x angel!reader

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: alright so!! this is an au a friend of mine and I thought of a couple years ago!! basically it’s demon!harry and angel!reader but with the added spice of harry being the king of hell!! the premise for this au is that it’ll kind of be an ongoing series/universe, like the hades!harry au!! so that means I’ll be posting a series of one shots and concepts in a non-chronological order, meaning that each one shot takes place in a different time and in a different order!! I’m really excited to write a series like this, in addition to the long stand-alone fics I do, and I really really hope you guys like it!! the last time I did a shorter one shot, it didn’t really get any feedback, and I thought longer stand-alone fics were the way to go, but I do really miss this format!! so. please. if you like it!! reblog it!! let me know you like it!! and let me know what questions you have about this au!! any concept or blurb ideas or thoughts you have!! I’m very excited for it and I hope you guys are too <3 also I originally wrote this au on my marvel blog last year, and have reworked and revamped it, so if it looks familiar, or sounds familiar, I promise I haven’t plagiarized lmao that was me!!

{masterlist}

When Y/N wakes up, the room is dark.

This, Y/N has come to realize, is normal, considering that the chambers she sleeps in have no windows. While this fact would normally have troubled her, she’s made her peace with it.  After all, what is there to see?  The palace, located in the center of hell, is surrounded by the flames of the underworld and the souls of the damned, and while neither of those things are a welcoming sight in the morning, they’re especially unwelcome for an angel such as herself.  It had taken her so long to adjust to the obsidian stone walls around her, the heavy black and red velvet drapes that lined the frame of her bed, and the smell of sulfur that lingered in the air, even after she had placed herbs and flowers to burn in the fireplace and create a sweet smoke in the air.  Truth be told, Y/N still wasn’t completely adjusted to the atmosphere around her, but this, too, doesn’t surprise her.  An angel could never truly adjust to being in hell.

A rustling in the bed next to her pulls Y/N from her thoughts, and she lets her gaze shift to the muscled body nestled in the sheets next to her.  This, she thinks, is another thing she may never get used to, even though it sparks a burning desire deep within her.  While the king of hell may have once frightened you, the sight of him lying next to her brings a feeling of comfort to her, and Y/N allows herself a moment to admire the rarely relaxed state Harry is currently in.  His curls, which are normally carefully styled beneath his crown, are tousled from sleep, falling into his face in an endearing way. His face itself is relaxed, the hard creases from the scowl that’s usually permanently etched into his features all but disappeared.  The demon is normally a fearsome thing to behold, his power at the forefront of every one of his movements, but seeing him like this…these are some of Y/N’s favourite times.

Thinking him still asleep, Y/N carefully pushes his mussed curls back from his face, her fingers tracing down the line of his jaw.  She can feel the stubble that’s unperceivable in the dark, and a soft sigh falls from her lips as she enjoys the rough sensation against her delicate fingers.

“Why are you awake, angel?” Harry’s low voice rumbles deep from his chest, raspy from lack of use.  Although his eyes remain closed, his face half pressed into his pillow, Y/N watches him adjust himself in the bed.

“I don’t know.” She whispers back, laying her head back on her own pillow, her gaze still on his body. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“S’alright.” Harry gives a small sigh, opening his eyes just barely. “I was just resting.  I’m fine.”

Yes, Y/N thinks, that’s another thing she isn’t quite used to.  While her body functions like that of a human, needing sleep every night, breathing oxygen into her lungs, a heart pumping blood through her veins…. Harry doesn’t.  It’s rare he sleeps, and even when he does, it’s never for more than a few hours.  He had explained to Y/N once how his heart beat so slowly when he was created, and how it stopped completely when he reached full maturity.  Although Y/N can see the faint blueish outlines of veins beneath his tattooed skin, she’s not exactly sure what runs through them.  Blood seems too common for a being like him.  And if he was ever to get hurt, Y/N’s quite certain that he wouldn’t bleed like she would.

The sensation of Harry beginning to play with her hair pulls Y/N from her thoughts. “Why are you awake, hm?” He keeps his voice low, his tone gentle.  He’s gotten better at speaking softly for her. “What’s troubling that pretty mind of yours, angel?”

Y/N half shrugs as best she can while laying down. “Nothing.  Just…thinking, I suppose.”

Harry quirks up an eyebrow. “Thinking?  About what?”

The words hesitate at the edge of Y/N’s mouth before spilling out. “How…I don’t really belong here.”

A deep hum echoes from Harry’s chest as his deep green eyes close again. “’F course you belong here, love. Don’t be silly.”

“I don’t belong here.” Y/N repeats the phrase insistently, her eyes glued to the way his jaw tenses as she says it. “I…I’m not from here.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t belong.” Harry counters, eyes opening once again.  They’re darker now, and Y/N can see the stubbornness swirling within them. “I’m the king.  I want you here.  That means you belong.”

Y/N chews on her bottom lip, contemplating the best way to explain herself. “I just…I miss it.” She says finally, her voice small as it slips into the space between them.

Harry’s pink lips pull down into a frown. “Miss what?”

Fingers twisting together, Y/N pauses before answering Harry’s inquiry. “Above.”

“Oh, angel…” Harry sighs again as he shifts his position, pulling her into his marked chest.  His strong hands find her back in the darkness, stroking up and down over her cotton nightgown in a soothing manner. “What’s there to miss?  Angry people rushing around all the time, destroying their own planet?  Destroying themselves along with it?  No, you’re much better off down here, with me.”

“There’s plenty to miss.” Y/N counters, pressing her ear into his chest to be greeted with the familiar sound of silence. “The smell of rain, sunshine, flowers growing, birdsongs…” She sighs as she trails off. “And I like people, you know that.  They may destroy things, but down here…you destroy things too.”

“Only things that need to be.” Harry argues, his fingers continuing his tracings across her back, barely brushing over the two ridges between her shoulder blades where her wings usually sit. “Souls that deserve punishment, or souls that sold themselves to me.  It’s part of the deal, angel.”

“I miss my garden.” Y/N’s voice is barely audible as she grazes her finger over his pentagram necklace. “My rose bushes, my sunflowers…I used to grow berries, too.  Strawberries, blueberries…I would make delicious pies and scones…”

“If you truly desire those things,” Harry murmurs slowly, carefully measuring his words. “Then I can get them for you.  I can send a demon to the surface for the fruits, and all the ingredients you would need to bake.  I’m sure anything you create would taste…” The growing smirk is practically audible in his voice. “Sweet.”

Despite the light warmth that flushes her cheeks, Y/N shakes her head against his chest. “It’s not the same.” She sighs. “I miss the breeze.  I miss the ocean.  I used to run to the edge of the surf to dip my toes in the water…and I loved going to the beach at night.  On clear nights, the moon would reflect on the water like a mirror, two glowing spheres, watching over me…”

“Are you not happy here?” Harry’s voice turns gruffer as he registers the longing in her voice. “You know why going to the surface is dangerous.  The angels—”

“Would try to take me back. I know.  And I don’t want to go back.” Y/N rubs her hand over Harry’s tensed muscles, trying to soothe him back into a relaxed position. “I just miss it. Isn’t there anything you miss? Anything that causes an ache in you, deep in your chest?” She presses her palm over his stilled heart to emphasize her words.

Harry softens at her touch, relaxing back into the sheets once more. “The only absence that could ever make me ache is yours.” He kisses the top of her head, an action so tender that Y/N almost forgets he’s a demon. “Sleep, angel.  Dwelling on these matters will only cause you pain.”

Y/N kisses his collarbones chastely, the curves fitting easily underneath her lips, before settling herself back down and closing her eyes.  Although breathing isn’t necessary for Harry, the familiar action soothes her as she listens to his breaths, the sound acting as her own personal ocean as she drifts to sleep.

…

The bed is cold when Y/N wakes up again the next morning, a sign that Harry has been long gone.  Given his strange sleep schedule, this isn’t unusual. What is unusual, however, is the carefully folded note sitting on his carefully fluffed pillow.  Y/N’s name is on the top of the note, scribbled in Harry’s messy penmanship.  Y/N rubs the sleep from her eyes as she picks up the rough paper, a shiver rolling through her as she brings it to her nose.  Although there’s the now familiar burn of sulphur initially, underneath sits Harry’s musky cologne, and the faint scent of it is enough to drive her mad.

Before she allows herself to get worked up any more, Y/N carefully unfolds the note, finding more of Harry’s writing on the inside.

Breakfast will be outside today, on the palace grounds.

Y/N frowns in confusion as she reads over the words repeatedly, trying to make sense of them. Harry knows that she hates going outside the palace walls, much preferring to spend her time inside the safety of the obsidian stone structure.  Between the anguished sounds of the damned, the burning smell of sulfur, the agonizing heat…Y/N typically avoids the depressing area.  However, Y/N has always had a natural curiosity to her, ever since she was created, and she knows that Harry is aware of that, which is why she finds herself making her way to the palace grounds as soon as she’s dressed. Although the idea of going outside leaves a pit in her stomach, she can’t help but wonder what would bring Harry to want to have breakfast outside.  And, moreover, Y/N trusts Harry.  Despite every one of her natural instincts telling her that a demon is dangerous, and the king of demons is even more so, Harry’s proven to her that he wouldn’t put her in harm’s way.

When Y/N reaches the palace doors, Harry is already waiting there, his arms clasped behind his back. He’s dressed in his usual attire of a suit, but this one is one of Y/N’s favourites.  The black fabric is trimmed with red, and a pattern of intricate red and gold stitches decorates the body of the jacket.  The pants are tailored to match, fitting his legs perfectly enough that they just brush the top of his black heeled boots.  As Y/N’s eyes trail back up, she registers his usual rings on his hands—the silver skull, the ruby, the silver band, the onyx stone—as well as notes that his fingernails have freshly been painted black.  His pentagram necklace, she knows, is carefully tucked under his shirt, hidden away between the black fabric and his tattooed chest.  There’s a slight smile on his lips as he watches her walk towards him, and a satisfied expression glimmers in his dark green eyes.  As he turns his head to the side to regard her, the gold and ruby crown that sits atop his perfectly styled curls catches the low light of the lit sconces around them.

As soon as Y/N is within his reach, Harry extends a ringed hand. “Good morning, angel.” He pulls her close to him, pressing her into his chest. “You look beautiful.”

Although enduring his compliments have become the usual, Y/N still hasn’t quite gotten used to them, and a light blush grows over her cheeks. Despite the embarrassment, Y/N’s glad that his words haven’t triggered the angelic blue light that sometimes radiates from her eyes when she feels something intensely (it had happened once a few weeks ago, and the smug look on Harry’s face had made Y/N swear to herself that she wouldn’t let it happen again). “Thank you, my king.” She holds up the note curiously, gauging the expression on his face. “What’s this?”

“I have a surprise for you.” Harry lowers his voice as he leans down to brush his lips over Y/N’s ear, speaking so only she can hear his throaty words. “And I really think you’ll love it.”

His tone of voice coupled with his breath on her ear makes Y/N shiver involuntarily. “O-okay.”

Judging by the smirk on Harry’s face, Y/N can tell that her reaction hasn’t gone unnoticed. “Come, angel.” Harry tugs lightly on Y/N’s hand as his smirk transforms itself into a more tender grin. “I have something to show you.”

Y/N’s curiosity is what allows her to allow Harry to push the front doors of the palace open and lead her outside.  As expected, the moment Y/N steps into the muggy air of hell, her discomfort starts. Each breath seems to catch in her throat, and the very air around them feels as if it’s clinging to her skin, burrowing deep into her pores to start a slow burn.  A small sound of discomfort escapes Y/N’s throat against her will, catching Harry’s attention immediately.

“You’re alright, angel.” He assures her instantly, squeezing her warm hand with his own icy fingers. “Come.”

Y/N continues to allow herself to be led by Harry, all of her steps falling slightly behind his own. After a few more minutes pass, she’s about to speak again to ask what exactly is so important for her to see, until she senses a change in the air.  The more they walk, the more the burning smell of sulphur disappears from her senses. With relief finally on the horizon, Y/N’s pace finally speed up until she falls into step with Harry, her curiosity growing stronger as her discomfort slips away.

Harry squeezes her hand again, and the simple gesture is almost an encouragement as Y/N’s steps increase again.  She begins to pull him behind her, leading the way on instinct alone.  There’s an excitement in her curiosity and confusion, and Harry can feel it emanating from her as she gets closer and closer to his surprise.  It brings a smile to his face, seeing her like this.  Seeing her alive.  Seeing her bring life to a place meant for the damned.

When Y/N finally sees the source of the sweet smelling air, she stops in her tracks, her hand moving to clutch Harry’s arm in shock as her mouth falls open.  She gasps sharply, so in awe of what’s in front of her that the lack of pain from breathing hell’s hair doesn’t even register in her mind.  Her mind has no space for it.  All that she can think about is Harry behind her and the garden before her.

This is her surprise. A garden.  A real, living, almost seemingly breathing, garden.  At least, Y/N thinks it’s a garden.  The dry earth beneath her spreads into scorched grass that fades into a delightful green hue, so vibrant that Y/N almost thinks that each blade has been painted with the colour.  At the edge of the grass is a large hedge, at least three times as tall as Y/N and double as long.  The darker green leaves that make up the wall of nature are dotted with wildflowers, adding pops of white and yellow every few inches.  In the very center of the hedge is a large wooden door, built out of dark, sturdy wood studded with shining iron bolts.  Although there’s a large wrought-iron knocker in the center of the wood, there’s no handle, and fear of not being able to see inside the magnificent structure seizes Y/N’s body as she turns to look at Harry with questioning and concerned eyes.

Harry seems to read the question in Y/N’s eyes, and the demon steps forward in response. “Here.” He says, taking Y/N’s hand from his arm and pressing it to the door, his own hand cupped over hers protectively.  There’s a cadence to his voice that Y/N’s never heard before, and it takes her a moment to register it as excitement as he continues speaking. “It only opens to your touch.”

Y/N feels a shudder underneath her hand, almost as if the wood has registered that the palm pressed against it is her own.  The force keeping it closed suddenly fades away, and Y/N easily pushes the large door open to reveal the garden inside.  

The crisp and clear scent of fresh air hits Y/N first, almost bowling her over completely.  For the first time in a long time, she’s able to inhale deeply and freely, not worrying about what the air around her may do to her body.  The high hedge wall, along with the trees that create a canopy over the whole garden, seem to act like a barrier, blocking out the smells and sounds of hell. Y/N can smell various flowers and plants all around her, as well as the wonderfully earthy scent of dirt, and as she gazed around the natural enclosure, all she can hear is—

“Birds!” Y/N gasps in amazement as a small mockingbird lands on a tree branch, chirping happily.  Without tearing her gaze away from the small creature, she poses half a question to Harry. “How—?”

Harry, still standing at the edge of the garden after closing the door behind them, knows her question before she even finishes. “I created it for you last night.” He says simply, his green irises glued to her every movement. “After our discussion.”

Y/N turns in a slow circle as she does her best to take in every detail around her.  Birds, she realizes, aren’t the only creatures inside the haven; butterflies fly through the air, moving leisurely from flower to flower, and the chittering of squirrels scrambling up and down the trees mixed with the sounds of all the birds hidden in the leaves.  A rustling in the bushes catches Y/N’s attention, and she manages to catch a glimpse of the cotton tail of a bunny before it hides under the foliage. A small frown tugs on the corner of her lips as she wonders why the bunnies are hiding away—heavenly beings are usually beloved by any living creatures—but like before, Harry guesses her question before she can ask it.

“They, uh, they don’t like me.” He clears his throat halfway through his sentence, his eyes gauging her reaction to his words. “Living creatures aren’t very fond of demons.  Unlike your kind, we don’t smell like sunshine and cotton candy.”

Despite her delight in his gift, Y/N can’t help but roll her eyes a bit at his gentle ribbing. “I don’t smell like sunshine and cotton candy.” She says, reaching out a delicate finger to a butterfly floating near her.  The tiny creature lands on her finger easily, without hesitation, and Y/N notices how Harry doesn’t receive the same treatment from the other butterflies in the air.  In fact, now that she’s paying attention, she quickly realizes that every living being in the garden around them is steering clear of the king.  She can’t quite blame them, she thinks, her eyes flickering over Harry’s closed off posture, dark appearance, and powerful aura.  Everything about him radiates the energy of someone who is dangerous.  And yet, Y/N’s never felt safer in hell than she does in this moment.

At the thought of safety, a new fear crosses her mind “Are they safe here?” Y/N asks in a hushed voice. “The animals?  I don’t want them to get hurt, or…”

“This garden is its own ecosystem.” Harry finally makes his way away from the garden edge, taking Y/N’s hand in a reassuring manner.  The butterfly on her finger flutters away as he gets closer, but Y/N’s attention is once again focused on the feeling of Harry’s cool fingers on her flushed skin. “As long as they stay in here, they’re safe.  I swear it.” Harry says, sincerity clear in his voice.

Y/N’s heart pounds beneath her chest, every once of her senses alight as they bask in the fresh air around her. “Oh, Harry…” Her eyes widen again as she begins to catalogue all the varieties of plants growing around her.  Not only were there flowers galore—fragrant roses of all colours, sunflowers taller than her, fragrant lilies, vibrant tulips, bright daffodils—all of her favourites, she notes—but past a grove of trees is— “Are those berries?”

The dimples that Y/N so rarely sees in Harry’s cheeks appear as he smiles at her excitement. “Yes.” He leads her over, his own excitement growing with every step.  Y/N notices how he walks with care, making sure not to step on any flora with his heeled boots.  It’s strange, seeing the king of hell being so cautious, but she appreciates it nonetheless.

Harry points to the various bushes around them with a painted finger, naming them as he goes. “Strawberries, blueberries…everything you’ve missed.  There’s room for you to plant more, as well.  If you’d like.” He glances at her for a moment, an unreadable look in his deep green eyes before he turns back to the plants. “And I set up a few stone benches throughout the garden, so you can come sit here when you need a break.  There’s one under the willow tree, one by the rose bushes, and one by the—”

“The water.” Y/N whispers, voice barely audible.  If Harry was human, he wouldn’t be able to hear the quiet gasp leave her lips. “Harry…”

When Y/N’s hand slowly slips out of Harry’s to walk to the water feature at the edge of the garden, she feels as though she’s in a trance.  Perhaps it’s the water itself, she thinks, calling out to her to soak her hell-scorched skin within its cooling depths.  Somehow, Harry had managed to make a small waterfall flow down from the top of the hedge into a crystal clear pool, which babbled delightfully with the motion.  Although the pool isn’t large, it’s certainly big enough to swim in, and just the very thought of slipping into the water brings a feeling of relief to Y/N.  Peering over the edge, she can see a few fish swimming around in the crystal clear water, and a new feeling of gratefulness mixes with the previous.

So entranced in the small pond, Y/N doesn’t even realize that Harry has followed behind her, keeping his distance by a few feet so she can admire the water. “Do you like it?” He asks, the excitement in his voice seeping out in exchange for a nervous and unsure tone. “It’s not…done yet.  I just did it quickly, so it—I can still add more, or take out things you don’t like, or—”

“Harry.” Y/N turns to face him with tears in her eyes, a small shake of her head being the only action she’s capable of. “This is…wonderful.  I don’t know how to thank you…”

Harry’s own eyes grow softer as he notices the tears welled in Y/N’s lash line, reflecting the light that seems to emanate from her eyes. “You don’t need to thank me.” He keeps his voice low, as if he’s worried speaking loudly will break whatever it is that’s growing between them. “I…I want you to be happy here.  I want you to feel like…this is your home.”

“I do.” Y/N promises sincerely, taking both of his hands in hers as she speaks.  She kisses his knuckles, her warm lips a contrast against the cold metal and stones of his rings. “Thank you.  I truly mean it.  Thank you.”

A new look passes through Harry’s eyes, more unreadable than anything Y/N’s ever seen before.  His pink lips are just as much a mystery, no expression available on them as he pulls a hand from her grasp in order to cup her cheek.  Despite the callouses on his fingers, and the cool temperature of his skin, Y/N leans into his touch, pressing her cheek into his palm.

“You’re welcome.” Harry’s thumb brushes over Y/N’s cheek bone, and the motion is so delicate and tender that Y/N isn’t quite sure what to make of it. “You’re…you’re so very welcome.”

Although he’s giving a polite response to her thanks, Y/N can’t help but feel like something deeper sits underneath the simple phrase as Harry repeats it.  She’s welcome.  So very welcome.  But welcome where?  In this garden?  Into his life?  Into him? The very thought of a double meaning causes her heart to pound, and by the flicker in Harry’s eyes, she knows he can hear it.

The questions bubble to her lips, but catch themselves on the tip of her tongue as her eyes detect a movement in the corner of gaze.  The breeze around them (Y/N isn’t sure where the breeze is coming from, but she’s grateful for it nonetheless) move something she hadn’t noticed before.  All questions about Harry’s intention fade away as her eyes focus on the sturdy branch of an oak tree, and the carefully woven ropes and wooden seat that hang from it.  She drops his hands, stepping out of his grasp and towards the object of her attention. “Is that—is that a swing?”

A light chuckle rolls from Harry’s lips at the awe in her voice. “Yes.” He says, his amusement clear in the word. “Would you like me to push you?”

The offer is so casual, and yet, it brings a sudden shyness to Y/N’s reply. “Only if the king would like to.”

Harry bows his head, his crown sparkling atop his brown curls as he extends a hand. “It would be my honour, angel.”

Y/N matches his smile as she takes his hand once again.

[gloryofluv]

Outfoxed: A Not So Happy Accident

I was going to create a headcanon for this prompt. However, it sounds waaaaay too much fun not to write as a fic. So, as per usual, Rena decided she was going to make herself known and now demands an introduction to her story.

F!MC x Multi

Rated: Mature

Summary: Rena was evaluating her place. Not among demons, or angels, or even magic. No, she was evaluating her place with herself. How not to be helpless for a human in a Devildom that never seemed to just have one regular day.

So, on her path to such a journey of self-discovery, she entrusted the neighborhood ancient sorcerer. (BTW He hates it when you call him ancient and Rena does to get a rise out of him!) How does one simple thing as evaluating her demon pacts cause this mess?

She's now... well, she's now a demon. Who knows how long? Who even knows why??? Well, this was going to be something her and Solomon work on. On top of all the newness of being a demon and learning that rules definitely don't stay the same despite your species or the temporary state of affairs.

The Incident:

Through the course of time through the Devildom, there was really no other human as reliable as Solomon. The sorcerer may have been an odd one, but he certainly knew magic. The pair were sitting in his room just as it was, every other Saturday.

Today was vital for Rena mostly due to the fact that Solomon was going to do some experiments with her demonic pacts. This was quite a bit of trust she was placing on the sorcerer—a milestone for her.

The woman shifted and scratched her nails through her auburn hair before twirling a lengthy lock around her fingertips while reading. It seemed quite intricate what he wanted to do. Testing the actual property of how attuned her pacts were with her magic.

“It’s all a process, I assure you,” Solomon hummed as he slowly stirred a spoon in the small cauldron.

“Sol, it’s not that I don’t trust you,” she murmured.

“But you don’t,” Solomon sighed. “I promise this won’t hurt you. We can’t get into the actual foundation of ritualistic magic if you don’t understand the capacity for your pacts.”

Rena shifted in her yoga pants and pulled down her green t-shirt before sighing. “No, I get that part. I understand the fundamentals of what the incantation is. I also see that it requires the subject to be completely willing. What happens if I don’t know if I am?”

Solomon twitched his nose as his ashen eyes met her form. “Are you? Rena, this is important. If you have any doubts, we shouldn’t do this. I’ve been instructing you for the entire week on what this experiment will do.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m one-hundred percent consenting to this,” Rena voiced with a single nod.

“You’re not just doing this to appease me, are you?” He questioned and set down the spoon on the table.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Excellent, then there’s no problem,” Solomon smiled and pointed to the chair. “Bring the book; the mixture is ready. Remember, it will help enlighten the passive magic from the pacts. You told the brothers about a possible tingle, correct?”

She scooped up the volume and agreed. “I also let them know that it’s just me tapping into that magic. A check-up.”

“Perfect,” he murmured and grabbed the ladle.

Rena ran her hands over her neck as she sat down. The book was peeled open to the page, and Solomon was scooping the solution into a goblet. Why a goblet? Why couldn’t the sorcerer use an ordinary glass? Magic was always so ancient, and it made the young woman’s lip curl as she observed. Such an old and foreign concept that was endearing after his several years of life.

Solomon tilted his head and offered it to her. “What has you amused?”

“You, Sol. You always amuse me,” she replied before taking the silver to her lips.

It tasted like rancid mugwort with a shot of whiskey. The liquid heated over Rena’s tongue and slid down her throat with a bite she wasn’t prepared for. The coughing that followed the serving of this solution didn’t startle the sorcerer, nor did he invade her space. All Solomon did was offer a glass of water.

Rena gulped it down and released a groan while scrunching her nose. “Why can’t we ever drink a cocktail or an ale? Why does it always taste like something similar to sewage?”

“Well, I never claimed anything I brew tastes wonderful, Rena,” he chuckled and thumbed the pages in front of her. “We should begin immediately.”

She breathed in and rolled her neck. “Okay.”

Solomon took his thumb and spoke the incantation before pressing it to her forehead. The tingling through her fingers and toes was as he described—even the quickening of her heartbeat as it pattered in her chest. However, there was something else that he didn’t note.

A sharp tug at her navel made her feel nauseous and caused the muscles in Rena’s abdomen to twitch. She started to count backward from one-hundred as a way to cope with the discomfort, but the longer she attempted to ignore it, the sharper it became.

She wanted to stop. This didn’t feel right. This wasn’t what he told her. Rena lost her tranquil concentration as Solomon finished the incantation. His finger pulled from her skin right before the woman launched to the ground and stifled a sound that neared agony.

“Rena, what’s wrong,” Solomon huffed as he slid to the floor next to her.

Her mouth and fingertips felt on fire as her breath caught in her throat. “I’m burning,” she cried as tears welled in her eyes.

“What?” he snapped. “Everything was accurate. What do you mean? Rena, tell me what’s hurting!”

She howled and raised to her knees, running her hands over her face. Her whole body felt like it was boiling in a giant vat of oil. “Solomon!” she screamed and saw white race through her eyes.

Just for the record. One does not simply grow extra limbs or oddities in a snap. It’s a horrible process of your magical composition changing, and those oddities in question come from inside to the surface. Horns. A shift in ears. A tail. It all has to grow from somewhere.

Clothing tears, whether that be from the subject or the growths. The skin bleeds from the oddities. The restructuring of one form to another is a difficult and painful process, but once it’s done, the person in question flops to the ground unceremoniously. Rena had this experience first hand and wouldn’t wish it on her most loathsome enemy.

“Fuck,” she hissed through panting and tears.

“Solomon, oh my, what happened?” Simeon’s voice entered the room.

“I, honestly, Simeon, it was. I don’t know how this could have happened!” Solomon’s voice sounded coarse and the furthest away from his usual calm demeanor.

A cool hand touched her bare back. “Rena, are you alright?”

She caught her breath and dug her sharp nails into the wooden floor. “I think, I need water,” she croaked.

Shuffling and then the hand traveled to her shoulder. “Let’s get you sat up, but be careful.”

Be careful? Rena was assisted in sitting and winced. Her eyes felt sensitive to the light in the room. It seemed so dim earlier, but now everything glared with color. “What happened?”

Solomon offered her the glass and scowled. “Rena, this wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t fully comprehend what caused it.”

She brought the glass to her lips, and something tickled her leg, causing her to jump. A matted pillow? Rena reached out and tugged the item, causing a sharp pain to run up her spine. The glass fell from her hand and splashed water everywhere near her.

“What the,” she huffed, and the matted pillow flicked and curled over her lap. “I have a fucking tail!” she cried.

Simeon ducked down, and his brow was tight. “Yes, you do. You also have a new set of sensitive ears, so don’t hurt them quite yet,” he murmured.

She narrowed her eyes and snarled at Solomon. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” he huffed and gestured to her. “I explained everything to the fullest this week. This was supposed to be routine. It wasn’t supposed to turn you into…” he trailed off.

Rena jolted from her seat on the floor and paced over to the mirror he had on the wall. Oh, for the love of fucking demons… “I’m a,” she breathed as her breath became shallow.

“A fox,” Simeon sighed.

“A demon,” Solomon corrected him. “She is a demon.”

Rena wiped the blood from her forehead and scowled. The horns curled sweetly in a small curve around her eyes. The large matted ears. Lifting her sweat-coated hair, she noted her human-like ears were missing. How the hell was she going to explain this to anyone .

“Lucifer, we have a bit of a situation,” Simeon’s voice bounced in the room. “Solomon and I are bringing Rena home immediately, and I suggest you meet us there.”

“This is temporary, right?” Rena asked.

Solomon appeared behind her reflection. “I think so? I have to do some research on how this was even possible.”

Rena grimaced and scrubbed her sensitive eyes. “This is going to be a shitshow.”

“Likely, but let’s just hope Lucifer doesn’t flay me before I find a cure to your new conflict.”

“Hopefully,” Rena grumbled and covered her bra with folded arms. “Can you help me get some clothing? I don’t really want to walk around like this.”

Simeon cleared his throat. “I have a sweater that might cover the tear in your leggings as well as keep you modest, Rena. I’ll be right back, and we’ll leave.”

Solomon turned Rena toward him and took a cool cloth to her face, wiping away the clotted blood. “I will work tirelessly on this, I promise.”

“I know, Sol,” she sighed.

So. She was a demon for however long. What the fuck was that going to be like? How the hell was she going to cope with this new experience? One thing was positive; Lucifer was going to be furious. Great.

[thedeviljudges]

Do you think Yohan always planned to fake his death and join Elijah in Switzerland, or did he originally intend to really die with the rest of the 'villains'? Part of me thinks that would fit with his pre-Gaon conception of himself, as a monster, not deserving of love, not necessarily seeing a role for himself in Elijah's life beyond getting revenge for her/Isaac, and financing an opportunity to help her recovery. Or do you think regardless of that, he'd still never plan to leave her on her own?

i didn't mean to put off this ask for so long. i was busy, but i also wanted to wrap my thoughts around this before i tried answering. not bc i didn't have an answer to begin with but yohan and death is a subject i'd like to approach, but i'm not entirely sure how i'd like to make the analysis of it, and i'm not sure i ever will.

so that leaves me to answer it here in the best way i can because point blank: i do believe yohan intended to die by the end. i do think he had two plans in place since the beginning (dying or not dying and helping elijah), but of course, until that final moment, he wasn't ever going to know the truth. that end scene of him blowing up the court was a 50/50 shot. he had a plan to make it out, but it wasn't a guarantee.

but lets also back up a bit because before we get to that point, i think it's necessary to point out that the reason yohan gets away and does all of the shit that he does is because he knows that he might not make it out alive. it's why he's reckless. it's why he bends the law the way that he does. yohan's actions prove, over and over again, that he does not care for himself. he does not care to live except to protect elijah. there are so many small moments of this. we call yohan unhinged out of fun, but i think there is truth in it because i've mentioned this casually before (and part of my words above in terms of not necessarily knowing how to approach this just yet) is that yohan is almost...... suicidal himself.

he's reckless. he's said that he does not care about the actual law. his goal has always been getting revenge for his brother, especially for his niece who grew up without her parents. yohan never truly cared about the bigger picture until gaon came along. if we leave out gaon and think of the plot as such, yohan would've been able to prevail much quicker, i'd say. he had a plan and was going to follow through with it no matter what, regardless of the ending. and he knew going into it that there was a chance he wouldn't make it out alive.

which is why i think he partially also allowed elijah to blame him for her parent's death because if she hates him, it will be so much easier for her to forget him. she won't mourn him or miss him. she will be able to move on with her life and live it any which way she wants. but because yohan doesn't really understand kids, let alone elijah, what he fails to realize is that elijah doesn't actually hate her uncle. she's looking to get rid of all of the pent up hurt and frustration bc she never had an outlet to let all of that out. yohan fails to see that elijah cares for him and would miss him, to a degree, if he died.

so now, if we think of the plot with gaon, it twists everything on its head bc gaon has no need to be there within yohan's plans. yohan doesn't need gaon to do anything bc everything was already planned from the beginning. if anything, gaon came in and crashed some things, leaving yohan to pick up those pieces and continue pushing forward. biggest case in point, gaon's stubbornness and his arguments against yohan with the law and what he's doing.

see, gaon eventually comes to realize yohan's reasonings for doing what he's doing for his brother, but i feel like gaon thinks that even if that is part of yohan's plan involves revenge, how much does he think yohan is also doing this for the greater good and wanting to fix society? we know that yohan has no intention of that, but does gaon? and so no wonder gaon protests because if he thinks yohan is trying to fix a broken system (plus get revenge all in the same plot), no wonder gaon continues fighting yohan - he's under the belief that yohan is trying to make things better. but he's NOT.

which circles back to the idea that yohan had every intention of either making it out alive or dying. gaon opened his eyes that yes, maybe things could possibly be good. gaon made yohan question a lot of things along the way, especially his own humanness and realizing that he is worth something and not the monster he let himself believe he was, and what others told him he was. that wasn't part of the plan either, which is why it made it so much harder for yohan to go through with bombing the court because yohan's at a conflicting place of finally understanding gaon's hope but knowing that he only ever had revenge as an intent.

yohan's plan is derailed a bit by gaon being hope and introducing concepts yohan has lived without for so long. before then, yohan lived isolated with one clear goal in mind until gaon showed him he had a reason to live. i also said in another post that while gaon stopped yohan because he didn't want to see yohan going down a path he couldn't come back from, it was already too late at that point. yohan had already set his path long before gaon came into the picture and nothing he said or done would've changed that. but it DID given yohan more perspective and more heart, possibly being at peace even more so with dying knowing elijah would have gaon.

but instances within the show - of course, his two fake deaths. him steering gaon and himself off the road on the middle of the highway. him chasing after the minister's son. yohan asking soohyun to save gaon despite him literally bleeding out.

yohan does not care for himself. he does not care whether he lives or dies, as long as his plan is completed. we can talk til we're blue in the face about how yohan was wrong manipulating the law like he did and various other things, but the reason why? is because he did not care. and it wasn't because of him being a sociopath by any means. it was because he numbed his emotions, lied to himself, and used his love for his brother and elijah to propel him to a desired end with the possibility of his death involved. and quite frankly, that speaks volumes about who he is and just how much he actually cares, how much he actually has emotions.

yohan, to love his niece so much he decided to manipulate the law, to serve his own agenda and purposes for an outcome that wouldn't actually give them that much peace, but would at least position the country in a way they could grow and give elijah a life where she wouldn't have to grow up into that kind of destruction. this is why yohan "leaves" gaon behind and why gaon is the hope of the show because in going along with his plans, yohan realized that if gaon wasn't going to follow him through til the end, if he was going to do everything in his power to stop yohan, then the biggest apology yohan could give gaon was the world - the entire judicial system to make things right, to do better. that was yohan's gift to gaon and his apology because yohan had no intention of making it better. but maybe gaon could with him gone.

i've seen a few comments about how if yohan was someone in irl, we'd all steer clear of him, well, there's a lot of characters out there like that, but i wouldn't stay away from him for the reasons everyone typically lists (like the choking and manipulation) because they think he's that way just bc. yohan's actions mimic those of someone who simply doesn't care because they're depressed and not because they're psychotic. there is a DIFFERENCE. like yes, are some of his actions shitty? and his gaon right to mistrust the things he does sometimes, also yes.

but understand that there is a difference in people's behaviors depending on the underlying mental health issues involved. i don't fully believe yohan had any intent to hurt elijah or gaon maliciously. it's part of yohan being oblivious and not recognizing his own actions mixed with the entirety of his plans to be followed through til the very end. we've seen how oblivious yohan can be (the classroom bird story is a classic example; they all thought he was the devil when in reality, this kid only hurt the bird because it was scaring the girl he sat next to. logically, that mean eliminating the threat. he didn't purposefully kill the bird and enjoy it. it was a practical response within his own personal world).

i feel like i'm missing parts of this discussion, which is why i said this was a difficult topic for me to approach just to get all of my thoughts about it out there. and long story short to answer your question: i think yohan intended to die (just like he had a plan in case went to jail, for example). that possibility couldn't have been ruled out. but i think he had the plan to escape with elijah so that she could get better. either way, whatever happened happened, even if he died. elijah would be taken care of regardless.

gaon throws a wrench in his plans just a little bit, makes him realize his emotional capacities but gaon's not enough to stop yohan from seeing his plans out until the very end, even if that means losing gaon, too, because even if gaon has shown yohan that he is worthy of love and family and affection, it is not enough to forgive everything he's done, and he needs to make right what was wrong. yohan's death in that courtroom, if it had happened, wouldn't be the thing everyone needed to forgive him for his actions but it would be a start in eliminating himself as part of the problem.

another thing to keep in mind, is that we know yohan is not a sociopath, even if that's what everyone wanted us to believe. everyone thought he made sunah jump out the window, but what he was actually doing was protecting isaac and his mother's necklace. sunah made the choice all on her own, set up yohan and framed him despite yohan reaching out time and time again. isaac didn't even understand what had happened and focused on the fact that this girl jumped because of yohan without listening to the truth of it. yohan has always been shown to be fiercely loyal to the people he loves. he's never directly done anything bad (at least as a kid) unless he was provoked.

what people need to understand about yohan as a character is INTENTIONS. and i hope i'm making myself clear on this. everyone thinks he's born a devil, but that has never been the case. yohan's actions just come from a place from blind revenge. if he never needed to get revenge in the first place, if isaac was alive and well, would yohan make these same decisions? would he still be this kind of person who needed to use these methods to work around the law? i don't think so.

i think i remember getting an ask awhile back about whether yohan would eventually turn into who he is now had isaac lived because we see him livid and upset during that flashback to one of his earlier court cases (where we find he's ripping the paper with the pen) and whether or not isaac's death just fast forwarded the process. i don't feel like trying to go dig that post out, and i can't remember what i said on it either, but i feel yohan would have his family as a moral compass to keep him in line, and he wouldn't have succumbed to his present-day tactics. i think he could've worked his way up into the system and made real change. i think his heart could've been there all long, but again, was derailed by isaac's death and of course, plans changed.

this was a mouthful, and i hope what i'm saying makes sense because you can probably see what i mean about how difficult it is trying to organize my thoughts about this subject. but i am under the full belief that yohan had every intention of dying at the end or even before that. i think he's a depressed individual who learned to slowly open back up with gaon's help, but gaon is no doctor and no amount of his kindness would help someone that depressed either. it helped, certainly. but yohan saw himself as a monster/devil until the very end, and was more than willing to kill himself to make gaon and elijah's life so much easier. as penance. as justice. as love.

[smolfoxbab]

okay here’s the Narumitsu angst (with a happy ending)

its my blog and i get to choose the hyperfixation to post about

((1,830 words //tw for injury + blood// hope u enjoy!))

Phoenix Wright wasn’t the type of person to make enemies. At least, not on his own. His selfless nature and optimistic personality made him a likable man to be around, even if he was often clumsy and oblivious at times. However, being a defense attorney was a different circumstance, one that brought a certain set of unspoken dangers with it. In proving his client’s innocence, the guilty verdict was placed onto another. While most of these people posed no threat behind the bars of their sentences, there was no guarantee a grudge wouldn’t push them to seek vengeance.

Miles Edgeworth had plenty of experience with this concept already. He was a prosecutor-- The Demon Prosecutor. Among the death threats and various other attempts on his life, he was all too aware of the risks that came with his job. But he had learned to shoulder them, right alongside the other burdens he carried. He also knew that Phoenix didn’t consider these things, didn’t consider his own safety as much as he considered others. Concussed, tazed, nearly drowned and beaten to a pulp in an infamously deadly river... none of it seemed to phase him. He never slowed in his pursuit for protecting others, and that... that concerned Miles more than anything.

“You need to be more careful, Wright,” he had said once in passing after a trial where a guilty offender nearly wrung Phoenix by the neck, the defense attorney standing just a little too close when the verdict was handed down.

“One of these days something... serious, might happen to you, and you won’t be able to just laugh it off.”

Phoenix only flashed him that dopey grin and said, “I’ll be fine, Edgeworth. For an unlucky guy, I’m pretty lucky.”

Miles wanted to believe that, truly. The man seemed to get off easy in dire situations more often than not, so perhaps he had a point behind his foolish reasoning. Even so, his worry lingered. Luck always tended to run out at some point.

---

Then one afternoon, his phone rang. He had already been driving towards Phoenix’s office, having been called over earlier on the premise of having an “important discussion.” He’d left as quickly as he could, but the traffic seemed to determined to keep him from reaching his destination. It was slow, and he seemed to be hitting every red light possible. It was at one of these prolonged red lights, as he sat impatiently tapping the steering wheel, that a familiar tune sounded off in his pocket. Sighing, he slipped his phone out and checked the screen, not too surprised to see Phoenix was the one calling. Forgot to tell him something in the first call, most likely. He hit “answer” and brought the device up to his ear.

“What is it, Wright.”

There was a raspy breath on the other end before Phoenix spoke, his voice just as hoarse.

“M-Miles, I... I-I uh...”

Miles’ brow furrowed, and he found himself straightening in his seat, grip tightening on the phone.

“Wright? Is something wrong?”

There was another breath, followed by a rather nasty sounding cough. There was then a sound that could have been a laugh, if it wasn’t so strained.

“Ah... s-something like that... I w-was trying to call... hhhah... I guess it d-doesn’t mmmatter... a-are you almost... here?”

The light turned green, and Miles pressed on the gas. Harder than he should have, perhaps, but he was uneasy now.

“Yes, I am. What is it, Wright? What happened?”

There was a grunting sound, and the rustle of paper. 

“W-well... fffunny story, ah... there was s-ssomeone at the door and it t-turns out it wasn’t... w-wasn’t you and ahm... shit-”

The hiss was sharp and pained. Miles turned a corner a bit too hastily, nearly catching a street sign as he swung around it. Before he could say anything, Phoenix continued.

“I’m not... I’m nnnot doing too hot, Miles... It’s getting... k-kind of hard to... focus...”

Miles clenched his jaw, trying to hold his composure. He was on the final stretch of road, he just had to get there.

“Stay with me, Wright. Stay on the phone. Do you hear me?”

“Yeah...” came the reply, but the strength in it was fading, “yeah... Miles...?”

“I’m here, Wright.”

He turned into the office parking lot as he said that, haphazardly parking and exiting the car in record time.

“.....what I w-wanted to... tell you... I... I love... you.”

Miles’ breath hitched as he ascended the steps. He would’ve have stopped completely if not for the adrenaline fueling his movement. A lump formed in his throat, which he heavily swallowed as he pressed on. Damn it, why now did he- Damn that man. 

“J-Just hold on, Wright. I’m coming up on the door now. Wright? Wright?”

Silence filled the other end of the line as he approached the door, which sat unlocked and ajar. A red smear stained the door handle, while more splashes led across the floor and deeper inside. Miles only hesitated a moment before flinging the door open, rapidly searching the room for the other man. It didn’t take long.

The defense attorney was slumped against a bookshelf near his desk, various papers and books scattered around him, along with his still lit up phone. He wasn’t moving. Miles sucked in a breath as he practically slid to Phoenix’s side, one hand clasping his shoulder while the other went to check his pulse. Thankfully, he could still feel it, though it was weakening.

“Wright? ...Phoenix, can you hear me?”

He tried to get some kind of response, lightly shaking his shoulder, but got nothing. He shifted his gaze downward, where he couldn’t help but spot the dark stain soaking underneath his jacket. He lifted the blue fabric slightly, trying to get some assessment of the damage. It looked too wide a tear to be a gun wound. A stabbing seemed more likely.

“Damn it. Damn you,” Miles cursed under his breath, shucking his jacket off and moving to put pressure on the wound. He set to call the authorities at the same time, his now-shaking hand nearly dropping the phone entirely. He stared at the unconscious man before him as the phone rang, mumbling to himself before the responder picked up,

“If you die, you fool, I’ll... I’ll bring you back and kill you again myself.”

Emergency services responded quickly, and an ambulance was sent with haste. The police force arrived as well, with the ever-diligent Gumshoe heading the charge. Ever-diligent, and ever-emotional, as the detective seemed to blast through one emotion after the next while Phoenix was being prepped for the drive to the hospital. Miles was given the assurance as he boarded the ambulance himself that, no matter what, the culprit wouldn’t get away with it. In the tense silence of the ride that followed, Miles let that statement repeat in his head- let it hold him together. They wouldn’t get away with this. He would see to it personally... Once he was assured that Phoenix was going to make it out of this alive.

---

Several hours of absolutely nerve-wracking waiting in the hospital lobby followed after, but all well worth it when he was informed that Phoenix was in stable condition. That didn’t stop him from nearly throwing the recovery room door off its hinges upon arrival, however. He needed to see it for himself, confirm with his own eyes that the other was alive. 

A tired smile greeted him from the bed.

“Hey Edgeworth...”

Miles stood in the doorway for a moment, silent and stiff. Then, slowly, he drew in a breath, let his shoulders relax, and stepped inside with the door closing behind him.

“Wright.”

Phoenix winced at the tone of Miles’ voice, like a child about to be lectured by his parent.

“Look, before you get m-”

“You are an absolute moron, Phoenix Wright. I mean really of all the idiotic- Not only do you call me as you’re bleeding out, rather than contact the authorities-”

Phoenix attempted to interject.

“To be fair I was actually trying to call the-”

But Miles didn’t let him finish.

“But then you have the gall to go and declare- to tell me that you- in such a dire circumstance you decide to claim-”

“Miles-”

“Not seconds before I walk in on what could have well been a murder scene- And what would I have done then? Knowing you had said such a thing before I could even have a chance to process it let alone-”

“Miles if... if you don’t feel the same I-”

“Reciprocate.”

Both of them fell silent then. Phoenix, slack-jawed and staring straight at Miles while the prosecutor locked his gaze to the floor, feeling the heat begin to burn in his cheeks. Phoenix blinked rapidly, beginning to flush a bit himself despite his currently paler complexion.

“Y-y-you mean you-”

Edgeworth huffed and turned towards him, closing the distance between himself and the bed before closing the distance between the two of them. It was an impulsive kiss, and not the one either of them imagined would be their first, but it was real. Phoenix was real, and still here, returning the kiss like it was the most natural thing in the world. A wince and a hiss broke the moment though, Phoenix pulling back to sink into the mattress he’d started to push off of. Miles pulled back hastily, rubbing at his arm with an awkward clearing of his throat.

“A-apologies, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no- my fault, really. And look I... I’m sorry for worrying you and... how I said that really wasn’t how I meant to go about it-”

Miles cut him off again before he could start losing himself in his rambling.

“I... I know, Wright. I would be far more concerned if your plan had been to confess to me by having a near death experience.”

Phoenix chuckled nervously and looked elsewhere, giving Miles the chance to take up the seat next to his bedside.

“Yeah that’s... a little far out there... even for me. But Miles, you really...?”

Phoenix looked back with a start as Miles took his hand, his grip cautious but protective. Miles attempted to play it off as if he was exasperated, rather than jumbled mess of feelings he was grappling with. The mess of feelings he had been grappling with for some time.

“Honestly, I would have thought just now made it clear enough, but. If I must say it to convince you. Yes, Phoenix. I... I love you, too.”

There was a pause, far too long yet far too short, before Phoenix smiled. Still tired at the edges, but warm and genuine. 

“Okay then. I’m... I’m really glad to hear it isn’t just... I’m glad.”

Miles couldn’t help but smile faintly himself, gently squeezing the hand in his.

“...As am I. Now... why don’t you tell me how you got into this mess?”

[dark-imagine-robots]

Reveritale AU Dump!!!

((Hehehe, another thanks to my good pal @ask-ufpapyrus​, one of my good pals, who helped out a sort some stuff with this au in decision making AND Offical art pieces retaining to both this au and TOTC Epilogue/Undertale Story!! *clears throat, cracks knuckles.* now let's begin!))

  His memories...

                                      Now, where do we start?... Ah...

  The full names of the Queens of the Underground are names Undyne and Alphys Fantasti. The Sans of this Undertale au, the Queens' prince, is names Uphys Fantasti. He may not be a biological son to the two queens, however he was a gift to them from their lead royal scientist, Gaster. In which the Gaster of this au is named Illuseem.

  Despite the queens being the ones having full custody over Uphys, the queens allowed Illuseem still be present in Uphys' life and have some privileges over his own son. That is why Illuseem was also Uphys' caretaker when the queens are not attending to him.

  Having these privileges would also be the reason for Uphys to fall ill in the Reveritale story, along leading to his demise by the hands of Imago.

  Thanks to Imago's sacrifice to keep Uphys' soul alive, it was retrieved by the new Lead royal scientists that use to be Illuseem's assistants, Napstablook and Napsatton. The queens would be unaware of this retrieval, leading it to be believed that Uphys dusted as Imago died with him in his arms.

  The two ghostly scientists would continue the project if which Illuseem left behind, finding a way to bring back/save dusted/dusting monsters. Uphys' soul would be a part of this project as they were also trying to find a way to bring back the prince's body. Which this inevitably lead to chaos, as they looked tirelessly to find out how to do this ((Tirelessly due to the fact that Uphys' soul was slowly dying once again with Imago's magic fading from the soul's use of it to stay alive)), they found the notes on Skeleton Demons that Illuseem left behind as well. This leading to the two scientists to try and inject the essences from both Underworld and Overworld Skeleton Demons, and some of the essences of determination from the human souls, into monster souls. All tests failed, creating the amalgamates of this au. All tests failed except Uphys' test. Due to Imago's magic, the essences managed to become well absorbed into Uphys' soul. Yet... Uphys didn't come out as the same person he once was.. as the essences made Uphys' new body be an echo flower.

  Due to the essences of Overworld and Underworld Skeleton Demons implemented into Uphys' soul, the traits of both Skeleton Demons would also show during the pacifist run battle against him. These traits being the multiple symbols and bones from Underworld Skeleton Demons, and the show of colors and extreme magic levels from Overworld Skeleton Demons.

  But, just like the original Undertale story, Uphys is simply a young soul still, tainted by the outside essences that made him a different person, yet still preserved the person he still was before his body dusted so long ago.

                      .... Are we... forgetting someone?

  Indeed we are...

  As many of you know already, Skeleton Demons are already dead... and they would reject passing on if they knew it wasn't their time to be gone. Their soul will mend and refuse whenever it is shattered/destroyed by outside sources and people that are not of Skeleton Demon descendents.

  Imago never passed on... but he never came back the same.

  When Imago's soul was shattered, it's factors of keeping bad things away from his soul were extremely weakened, not because it shattered, but because of how and why it shattered. The extreme emotional toll and cruelness of being harmed during his walk and the life of hatred, weakened his soul.. anything could enter and became a part of him.

  Hate became a part of his soul... Hate, rage, and fury... but Hate is the main factor of what corrupted him... his soul.

   Imago's soul mends and refuses, but the Hate changed and kept certain things to Imago's body, since he didn't exactly pass on, he long passed his child youth. As change and unfamiliarity to a Skeleton Demon's body will always be apparent one way or another when they are corrupted, yet... the real change... the real corruption occurred more to Imago's own personality, emotions, magic, psyche...

   Stronger.... yet... pure malice...

   A Genocide run has always stayed avoided, no one wanted to do a Genocide run in this particular au. Neutral routes and Pacifist were always the go to... the reason is unknown as to why no one ever wanted to do the Genocide run of this au... it could be that the Neutral routes are rich in outcomes... maybe the pacifist route is just that satisfying to go through with, even when done over and over... or it could be that no one wanted to see their loveable skeleton be the true evil behind this au, as no one would want nor accept such a thing such a concept... such a frightening thought...

   That is... until one player decided to finally choose the Genocide run after a neutral run. 

   It would play off as any other outcome the Genocide run would provide... but Imago... at the very end.. will be more of a threat and terror before the player/frisk's presence.

   Imago will start off as a friendly, welcoming skeleton, just like any other alternate Papyrus would be. Sure his appearance is a bit.. atrocious... but his lights eyes are wide and adorable! What's wrong with going with a Genocide route? This Papyrus is like any other!!

   .......

   It's a facade.... 

   Imago's behavior will degrade into something more passive aggressive, sociopathic... right after he mentions how proud he is that you managed to kill everyone for him... just to meet him... the player/frisk will be uneasy, unnerved, and regretful of their decisions the more they stayed under Imago's presence. 

   And then...

   He finally asks... "Would you like the best outcome for your last route? I'll be with you through and through! Now and always, here and... forever. What do you say? Let's reset this now hollow shell of a ending, human! You'll have a best friend to follow you, wherever you go! You'll never be... alone. Nyhehe!"

   Choosing yes would be easy on Frisk's soul, he would be so "caring" and "kind" to you. Saying how you made the right choice, he wouldn't fail to be your best friend to the very End.

   But... Frisk doesn't choose yes... they were finally broken into tears, regret, sorrow... but everything they done and the evil they have brought upon themselves. They chose no.

   He notices their tears, their suffering as they chose no.

   He laughs in glee, sadistic joy from their tears and suffering. It was pathetic to him, so entertaining... but the choice they made... it didn't matter.

   He was in control, he is already their Best Friend to the end... it was too late to reject something that will never let go. 

                                                            Reset...

   In hopes to forget that Genocide ever happened, frisk now goes with a pacifist route! Easy enough, and so calming.

   But little things can be noticed... things that weren't there in the past pacifist runs.

   Some additional dialogue can be read out after every boss battle... they don't start off as anything strange... but they get more text heavy the closer you are to the last fight of the run. 

And of course!

   Imago kept his word... he would be there with you... always... 

   Like the original Undertale story, he can be seen in mirrored areas! But... instead of him being you... he is simply behind you the entire time.

   "Despite everything, you're still you. But... you did make a friend along the way."

   This pacifist run will have the same ending like the rest, nothing bad or any MAJOR changes will take place for the end...right?

...

   I would be lying if I said everything would be well in the end, but it would be far more different, oh so far more horrible. 

   Once you have to face Uphys, something changes in this pacifist fight... Uphys is more tense, and he doesn't give you the option to save the others. He can be saved, but only him... once you do, it goes out as any normal Undertale Story goes. He turns back into his original body and speaks to you...

   But he knows something is wrong, but his gaurd is down, he can't right in this form. He offers you/frisk a hug. If anything, frisk would have accepted right away, but that didn't happen...

   Instead... the option to attack appears. Frisk refused to attack, but it wasn't their choice, someone else made that choice. They made frisk attack Uphys.

   The first strike doesn't kill Uphys, but made him fall to his knees, crying, in pain, bleeding, and scared. 

   Frisk is no longer in control, but they cry as well as they don't want to hurt Uphys, not again. Oh... but that wasn't a choice... Him... Imago was in control. Making you kill his own brother. He is enjoying this, enjoyingthe pain and suffering of it all. His own brother was nothing to him, his little show of power, meant nothing to him, their time together.... was nothing but a long faded memory with Hate attached to it.

   He makes frisk make that final blow.

   Uphys' body dusts before frisk, leaving only his soul, which Imago snatches it on the spot. 

   "Such a swell job you did human, nyheheh." He explored as he held the soul up near his own face. "It was quite the show too! This outcome was definitely the best one! Hmm... but it's a shame." He ponders. "I actually won't be needing you anymore!!!" He says enthusiastically before he actually consumes hos own brother's soul. "Ahh, finally complete. You know, all that time of other pacifist routes going over and over, gave me time to grow more and more powerful. Until the perfect time came when you came along to make the first, and last, Genocide route." He makes the Erase button appear before himself and frisk. "After so long of watching everyone make True Resets, I was curious... what if there was a Permanent Reset? Nyhehe, a button that would make sure nothing every comes back and could never be played with again! This.." He points at the Erase button. "This is what I always been wanting to conjure... now that I'm complete, I finally got to summon it!! Nyheheh! .......but of course... it's not yours to use or make go away. It's mine." Black ooze seeps from his jaws, nose, eye sockets, and scars. His eyes become a swirl of his magic colors, crazed and terrifying. "Goodbye, Frisk."

   Thus, Imago pressed the button. And his au has been Erased.

((This lovely piece was made by @ask-ufpapyrus​!!! Again, thank you so much, bud! And thank you guys for reading his dump!))

[pastelpaperplanes]

I’ve gotten more than a few asks on how I view Cybertronian Reproduction, so I figured why not just make a post to clear up any questions!

I headcanon that Cybertronians can be sparked in several different ways!

note: sparkling, bitlet, and new spark all mean the same thing: a baby transformer! Protoform also means the same, but this term is most often used for the process of Cold Construction (which is discussed below!)

Cold Construction

One way would be through the Allspark exclusively, where of course it alone generates the actual spark of a new born Cybertronian, then later transferred into a pre made adult protoform mold.

This method required virtually no Creator coding, as the Allspark took care of that all on its own. Despite these Cybertronians already being full grown once pieced together in their adult protoformed frame, they still require a mentor or at the very least a guardian during their first few years of life. These were often specially appointed sergeants of the Elite guard who take on this task. Overall, this is the method I would call the ‘Cold Construction’ version of TFA.

After the Allspark fell during the war, this method was lost to Cyberton. The rift caused between the newly named Autobot and Decepticon factions switched the production line from Worker frames, Flight frames and War frames, to exclusively Civilian and Service frames after the Autobots seized the Allspark.

When the Decepticons were driven out of Cybertron, the Cold Construction of ‘Decepticon’ Cybertronians came to a complete stop. When the Allspark was missing after they sent it through the Space Bridge, this half of this CC process was lost until further notice (which was ya know, INDEFINITELY bc it broke)

Creator Harvesting

Another method in which a new spark can be made, is through Creator coding and a pre protoformed frame. I’ve decided to call this process ‘Creator Harvesting’ This was the way Cybertronians we’re reproduced post war.

Even though the Allspark was missing, Cybertron still had their Protoform Forge in operation, so protoforms were of no issue in supply, is was only the coding for the actual spark that was needed. (Yes, this does imply that the Decepticons has absolutely NO access to the Forge or this form of reproduction throughout their exile)

Two bots had to come together under the medical supervision of a ‘Harvester’ to take tendrils of Spark Energy and light to provide the building blocks for the creation of an entirely new spark.

This eligibility process is EXPREMELY long and requires a multitude of interviews and testing before two creators can be approved for a Spark Energy donation. The Elite Regime (which includes all factors of government and enforcement ex: The Guard, The Court, The Ninja Corps.) was extremely tight knit and wanted to ensure blood lines stayed ‘Autobot Pure’ for the creation of their future generations.

Any Cybertronian with a single line of Con coding would be immediately turned away.

These potential Creators could volunteer together, or they can be could be completely randomized, note that these potential Creators turn over their consent for a chosen partner once they’ve been approved. Not every bot could wind up be compatible together.

Volunteers for this process in the creation for new soldiers exclusively were highly rewarded, while Creators who begged for this process so they could have their own sparkling had to jump through massive amounts of legal loop holes to even be considered for this opportunity. Not to mention the cost is nearly unattainable unless you have friends in high places.

Protoforms are sacred, Cyberton couldn’t be giving them out to hopeful Creators when soldiers would always be the better option.

Once two Creators are approved, the medical process of harvesting Spark Energy can begin.

Seeing as this is a completely unnatural way of sparking a bitlet, there is a huge window for error where either of the two Creators could suffer a fracture in their spark chamber, or both could accidentally cause one another to go into Spark Overdrive, then into a blackout if the process turns sideways.

High risk, high reward of course. If the Creators are successful, their harvested energy can be used to warp dozens of new sparks.

Again, these Creators are highly respected and paid HANDSOMELY after a successful harvesting. Plus they’re pampered in Cybertron’s most Elite hospital for months after the event.

This is how all Autobot New Sparks came into creation post-war.

Creator Construction (Carrying)

The last method in which a New Spark can be made is through the ‘Creator Construction’ process, or Carrying! After Cold Construction was out of the picture, this left Carrying and Creator Harvesting the only options for the creation of sparklings.

This method had always existed, but was considered taboo until the highly exclusive Creator Harvesting was modified to be accessible to all hopeful Creators. Carrying is the 2nd most natural way a Cybertronian can produce after the Allspark was destroyed.

Sparking a bot is actually fairly difficult to do. Both sparks must be in sync during a merge, and both must have a healthy frame to even begin to contribute a part of their being to create a whole new Cybertronian (this is why Reiki, the daughter of Ratchet and Drift, was a complete ANOMALY)

A bot can become sparked through the act of merging while interfacing, or a merge soon after interfacing. It doesn’t matter which bot was ‘top or bottom’ because the post-overload harmonized sync of the bot’s sparks allows the conception, not whoever donated transfluid in who.

So YES. If there is a merge during or after interfacing, both bots have an equal chance of carrying. But not both at the same time! This is not possible as there is no way a spark could hold that much energy to spark both bots at the same time.

Carrying is a two bot job. With out a Sire to support the Carrier with frequent merges for both the health of their Mate and the New Spark, there’s absolutely no way the New Spark would make it to term.

The Carrier already has to go through the strain of forging the protoform with their own frame, so the Sire holds the job as the provider for the majority of the Spark Energy that the Carrier and New Spark need in order to survive.

As mentioned in a previous post, this job is precious. It allows the Sire to bond with their Sparkling pre Emergence, as well as provide comfort for to their Mate during their long months of carrying.

This job is also not exclusive to the Sire, a third bot may be allowed into the picture if the Sire is unable to provide the sufficient energy for the Carrier and sparkling.

(These frequent merges don’t contribute to the coding of the spark that’s already in existence, only energy, so the third party bot doesn’t run any risk of tampering with the Sire’s coding within the New Spark)

So yes, Carrying is taboo because of how fragile and needy the process is. The Carrier must keep their frame fully fueled and their environment comfortable in order to have a smooth carriage.

This is why new, healthy Decepticons were not often born during the war. Constant fuel shortages as well as extremely stressful and unstable war ridden environments couldn’t properly support a Carrier. Plus, all the forged medics with the adequate training to aid a Carrier through the process were all secured on Cybertron.

Without a proper medic to support a Carrier through the Spark Descent and the Emergence, Carrier could very easily die.

With no guarantee to access to the Forge anytime soon, this was a risk the Decepticons dared not to take. Building up their soldiers to be faster and stronger seemed like a safer option rather than try and increase their forces through Creator Construction.

The most dangerous points in a carriage is the Spark Descent and the Emergence. The Spark Descent is where the new spark descends from the carrier’s spark chamber to the forge, where it joins with the protoform. The new spark tearing away from the Carrier’s spark must happen quickly and cleanly, or the Carrier’s spark chamber could fracture, causing a flare, and instantly smother the new spark. This split second moment happens no more than a week before the Emergence.

Immediately after this, the protoform and forge begins it’s descent towards the Emergence Channel.

New sparks (no matter which coding they hold, Con or Bot) are extremely small and can often be held in the palms of the Creators post emergence. For lack of a better phrase, yeah,, one size fits all!! This of course isn’t always the case, for example, a mini bot or a mini con with a full sized Decepticon could have an issue with this if their lines of coding matched up to produce a sparkling that large.

Emergence doesn’t hold the risk of being dangerous from the size of the sparkling, the only thing that’s dangerous is the chance of the Forge rupturing from stress induced pressure, leading to internal bleeding which could cause fatal energon loss. Tears in the valve could be fatal if not treated properly post Emergence as well.

Again, high risk and high reward. Sparklings born in this manner are cherished and seen as a tremendous feat of strength from the Creators, was well as beautiful physical embodiment of the both love and harmony formed between two Creators.

In summary: there are several ways a Cybertronian can be born: Cold Construction, Creator Harvesting, and Creator Construction(Carrying)

Cold Construction is no longer possible without the Allspark, it was the safest and most common method of creating Cybertronians.

Creator Harvesting was an extremely exclusive process that was used burning the post war era on Cybertron. The Decepticons had no access to this method. Creator Harvesting is now much safer for both Creators due to reforms made after the fail of the Decepticon Uprising, and the fall of the Elite’s Regime.

Creator Construction is the 2nd safest method of conception after Cold Construction (which no longer exists) but still holds a high risk even without he stress inducing war environment. This is how Cybertron will likely build up their future generations with hopefully both Decepticons and Autobots united once again.

[backofthebookshelf]

One of the nice things about the way the TMA fandom has reached full large-fandom levels of toxicity is that I no longer care if people get mad at me for my opinions on characters! So, some Georgie meta.

(Because fandom is and always has been Like That, I do feel the need to clarify here that I love Georgie, she's one of my favorite characters, characters are more interesting because of their flaws, and I have no investment in the idea that women or female characters are inherently better or more emotionally competent than men or male characters. If I talk a lot about her relationship with Jon, it's because Jon is our point of view character and also the person she interacts with the most. Also, this rambles, sorry.)

I've been thinking about the Season 4 Jon Trauma post and how much I liked the way it talked about Georgie, and it's convinced me that if Georgie could feel fear, she's the one who'd be most afraid of Jon out of all of them. She's the one protagonist we have whose only interaction with the powers has been as a direct victim of them. She doesn't know what they feel like from the inside, like Jon and Melanie; she doesn't know what they're like when they're someone you love, like Basira; she doesn't even know what they're like as petty middle management, like Martin and Tim. What she knows is that one time a monster ate her (only) friend and traumatized her so badly she spent a year in a suicidal depression.

And now her ex - and yes, Jon and Georgie have a remarkably comfortable relationship in the beginning of season three, but they're still exes and they broke up for reasons, even if we don't know exactly what they are - has turned up on her doorstep, shaking and possibly bloody, with nowhere else to go and no access to his home. He's clearly lying about what's going on. He repeatedly violates her house rules. And then he tells her that he's turning into one of those same kinds of monsters that traumatized her and ate her friend. It's clearly enough to override any remaining affection she had for him, and by any definition he has now positioned himself as a trigger.

(Through no fault of his own: the only real response he has to Georgie's statement is "I can't believe you didn't tell me." She's the one who assumes that he Knew, somehow, that she also had a statement; she's the one who suggests he had alternatives. Both suggestions are plausible but we don't actually know for certain that either are true.)

But Georgie isn't afraid of Jon because Georgie can't be afraid -at least, according to her. I'm not sure how much I believe this in the grand scheme of things; it seems like an extremely unlikely mechanism for one of the fears to have. It seems much more likely to me that she's just never met anything as terrifying as that encounter was, and her subjective sense of fear has been massively recalibrated. In which case not only meeting but having hosted in your home another monster who self-describes as similar to the one that was so terrifying that literal threats to your life are no longer distressing would...probably ping. But she's conceptualized herself as a person who doesn't feel fear; it's even possible that was part of her recovery, identifying this as a possible benefit of what would otherwise have been a universally terrible, soul-breaking experience. She looked existential terror in the face and survived, and came out of it a person who cannot be afraid of anything left on this earth. That's kind of a superhero origin story, and I can't blame her for it. I think anyone with a mental illness has at least tried to find ways in which their suffering has made them a better, stronger person.

But whether she's suppressing and rationalizing away any fear she feels or she genuinely doesn't feel any of it, she does frequently behave as though her lack of fear gives her a more objective view of the situation than anyone else. I don't believe she actually uses the word "just," but it drips from her every interaction with Jon after Dead Woman Walking. Why doesn't he just stop reading the statements? Why doesn't he just quit? And, in Zombie, I honestly can't interpret her reaction to Jon when he wakes up from his coma as anything other than, Why doesn't he just die? If he hates being this so much, if he really doesn't want to be a monster, why doesn't he just die?

I really would like to think that it goes without saying that this is, at the very least, a massive failure of empathy, but she's so explicit about it and fandom spent so much time basically agreeing with her that apparently it doesn't. Not only is Georgie not afraid of the situation, but (and this is the part that makes me wonder if she's not rationalizing, rather than being supernaturally unable to feel fear) she can't possibly fathom how afraid everyone else is, and she never tries. She persists in treating the whole awful situation, as @findingfeather's post says, like this is a mundane problem with people who are refusing to help themselves, rather than a supernatural trap that has been specifically built to be inescapable.

Now, let me be clear, even if she were talking to, say, a drug addict who nearly killed themselves because they were in denial about how much of a problem they had, her attitude would be unforgivable. But in this case Jon had no choice in whether or not to become addicted to statements; it was done to him in such a way that he didn't notice it was happening until withdrawal was already incapacitating. He also didn't have the option to leave, as Tim's extended vacation made clear. And, on top of all of that, the whole reason he was in a coma in the first place was that he was trying to save the world. (Neither he nor she knows at this point that he was doing nothing of the kind, so that's really not relevant.) And - look, when Jon came to her after the end of season two, he was asking for help. When he rejected the kind of help that she offered it was because he knew it didn't apply to the problems he actually had, but she treats that like it's his problem, which is something like offering a leg splint to a person bleeding out from a gunshot wound and getting offended when they tell you that won't work. He was very clear that what was happening scared him and he didn't know what to do about it, and her only suggestion was "walk away," which he literally could not do, for multiple reasons.

She's lucky Jon has pretty much precisely zero self-worth at this point, because anyone else would have cut her off completely for behaving like a fucking asshole.

I say "she's lucky" because frankly, even though she says that she wants nothing more to do with him, she turns up at least twice in the Institute after that, with the excuse that she's picking up Melanie to take her to therapy. I don't know about you, but I have never once gone to someone's workplace to pick them up and gone snooping around inside, and no matter how fascinatingly weird that workplace is, I definitely can't imagine doing so when I know that workplace also contains a person I have definitely decided I never want to speak to again. She goes into the Archives, for Christ's sake, and she listens outside Jon's office door for long enough to catch a bit of the recording before letting herself in (so it's very clear she knows who's in there).

Now I'm not trying to paint her as a monster here; Georgie would hardly be the first person to have second thoughts about cutting off someone they still care about, or to break that boundary that they set themselves when they realize they do still want to know how that person is doing. But the fact is that she positions herself as having the moral high ground in every single discussion they have and that's just not true. She is not literally a supernatural monster, true, but if season four did anything with the concept of monsters it was breaking down the difference between "supernaturally driven no-longer-human" and "person capable of caring and empathy." (That's a whole different meta, though, one that I will get around to someday.) Not that Jon is any better, in that encounter specifically, at dealing with a complicated and contentious relationship - he deliberately goads her, even if he doesn't use compulsion. But that's the thing, they're both exes who have had a falling out and aren't handling it very well. Neither of them is in the right.

All of which makes me really wonder what her relationship with Melanie is actually like. We don't actually see hardly any of it directly, and of what we do, well, Melanie sounds like she's still high on painkillers, so it's hard to take that as an indication of anything. But given that people (who are not intentionally trying to manipulate those around them) tend to, y'know, be fundamentally the same person in their various relationships, though it may manifest in different ways, we can probably make some guesses.

I have always been bothered by, and I really can't ignore, the fact that they were getting together at the same time that Melanie was doing what Georgie has been demanding of Jon since season three: she did whatever it took to get out. I have to wonder if Georgie knows about the nonconsensual surgery part of Melanie's process of getting out, and if she does, if she understands how vital it was. I certainly wouldn't be surprised, if she does know, that she's managed to compartmentalize it: Jon inflicted this terrible trauma on Melanie, Melanie escaped the entity that took her over. (Subconscious implication: Jon is a monster; Melanie is better than him.) I would be very surprised if Georgie is interested at all in the fine distinctions between entities; she's shown no interest in learning what is actually happening to anyone in this situation beyond "it's bad and they should get out of it." But it's relevant, because by the time Melanie makes the decision to blind herself, she's in a much different position than Jon, enslaved by an entity but not consumed by one. She herself admitted to Jon that she would never have voluntarily escaped from the Slaughter.

And given how difficult Melanie finds it to talk about any of this - you can hear her dragging the words out from behind her teeth in her conversation with Jon in Flesh, truly incredible acting by Lydia Nicholas, my god - if Georgie doesn't want to hear it? I can't imagine Melanie insisting. Yes, Melanie is going to therapy, but let me tell you, I've been going to therapy for twelve years now and I have yet to have several of the important conversations my therapists have insisted I have. That shit is hard. But I can imagine a scenario where, having been told by her therapist (who, remember, doesn't have the first idea what Melanie is actually going through, because Melanie isn't telling her about the supernatural so she has to leave out a lot of really relevant details) that she ought to tell her friend/potential girlfriend/new girlfriend about these things, Melanie attempts to bring it up, Georgie says kind and reassuring things and refuses to let her clarify any of the details, and Melanie gives up in relief, thinking, well, I tried. Super valid all around, but it doesn't mean that Georgie has any clearer picture of what Melanie's traumas actually look like, never mind Jon's. There's no world in which I can imagine Georgie actually internalizing the idea that Melanie loved the Slaughter when it had her, and she would gladly have stayed with it if Jon and Basira hadn't intervened.

In Georgie's eyes, Melanie is being a Good Victim. She was hurt but she was strong; she fought it until she won; now she's going to therapy and setting boundaries and trying to heal. She got away.

(Except, of course, she didn't, because as of The Eye Opens no one has gotten away, because this is the entire world now. We have no idea how this has affected Melanie. Presumably she's out of reach of the Eye, given that Jon can't see her or Georgie (and there's some evidence on the side of Georgie's encounter genuinely having stripped her of fear, if she's also invisible to the Eye), but she spent a long time under the influence of the Slaughter. It had her firmly enough that her attacking Jon was enough to give him his Slaughter scar. If nothing else, Melanie certainly hasn't had her fear removed, and talk about a situation bound to retraumatize someone who had such a visceral revulsion to being trapped that Elias chose it as his mechanism of control over her. Melanie probably doesn't look like a Good Victim any more, and I'd bet her relationship with Georgie is suffering some serious strain because of it.)

We don't know when exactly Melanie and Georgie got together; the last time one of them mentions the other is, I'm pretty sure, when Georgie tells Jon that Melanie is back from India. So we know that Georgie and Melanie were friends; that's good, that's a good foundation for a romantic relationship. At the very least they know each other, they have some idea of what to expect. I'd be surprised if they were dating during that season 3/4 hiatus period, though, or frankly any time before Melanie's surgery, just because Melanie seems much too consumed with rage to have room for any other emotions, and I can't imagine Georgie putting up with that.

What seems way more likely to me is this: Melanie comes back from India, arranges to meet Georgie for drinks. Probably they don't talk about anything serious; possibly they talk about Jon, honestly, since we know Melanie was looking for him and Georgie talked to him about Melanie, but very likely in the same "stuck-up pompous ass" way that Melanie talks about Jon in early seasons. (I bet Melanie's roasts are amazing.) Shortly after that Melanie joins the Magnus Institute and then, very likely, either she never tells Georgie about it and therefore they don't talk much or she does tell Georgie about it and Georgie tells her that place is bad news and she won't have anything to do with it and they don't talk at all, until, whichever way that went, the Unknowing happens and Tim dies and Jon winds up in a coma and everything goes to shit. We know Georgie visits Jon in the hospital; we don't know if Melanie does, but frankly it seems unlikely. If they did cross paths during this time, it was probably very brief and superficial. Then: the surgery, and Melanie's recovery.

I'll be honest, I have a hard time imagining Melanie deciding on her own that she should go to therapy. It's possible Basira suggested it, but it really does sound like a Georgie thing to do. So I picture something like this: from the way Basira talks it sounds like they've all been pretty much living in the Archives for a while, and on top of that everyone in the Archives has just badly violated Melanie's trust, so Melanie pulls up her Facebook DMs and talks to the only other person she has. You were right, she says, this place is terrible, I can't handle it, there's no one here I can trust and I'm so alone. And Georgie, who is generous with help and advice (so long as it's accepted) and (like anyone) weak to being told she was right about something, starts talking to her. We know Georgie's got good boundaries, and we know she doesn't want to hear details about what's going on in the Institute, so I can see her saying, I can talk to you, I would love to talk to you, but not about this. For that you need a therapist.

So Melanie gets a therapist, and the prospect of going out amongst the monsters they know are stalking the Institute without that protective shield of rage (never mind the emotional vulnerability of going to therapy in the first place) makes public transit an unthinkable option, so she asks Georgie to take her, and she does, and she keeps taking her to therapy, which is, as far as we know, the only time Melanie leaves the Archives in season four, until she blinds herself and escapes it completely.

And so they have this relationship that's built up almost entirely around Melanie's trauma - with a foundation of friendship, certainly, so I do think that if they are willing to work through it they could make it a working, healthy relationship, but (and again this isn't stated in canon but is my speculation based on what we know about these characters) it is a romantic relationship that's built around the process of Melanie recovering from multiple traumas. Ones that we know that Georgie a) doesn't know many details about, and b) more importantly, refuses to know any details about. Now, I have no experience with romantic relationships and serious trauma; I might be wildly off base here. But. I know that boundaries are important and I know that trust is also important. And if Georgie is holding similar boundaries with Melanie that she has with Jon (and, as I went into excruciating detail about earlier, she has very solid emotional reasons to protect herself with those boundaries), that's drawing a hard line around what's basically the past two to three years of Melanie's life, and undeniably both the worst and most important things that have ever happened to her. That seems...difficult to manage in the long term.

(This is a bit more of a stretch, more of the germ of a fic idea than an argument I'm prepared to defend, but I also would not be surprised if Georgie told Melanie that she wouldn't date her while she was still working at the Institute. That's a very reasonable boundary, and it's good motivation - and probably healthy motivation, I do like the idea that Melanie had something to reach toward in escaping the Institute, not just the desperate flight from - but it's also something of an ultimatum. Which is not inherently bad, but it is the kind of thing that can fester, given other problems.)

Now it's entirely possible that Georgie isn't that internally consistent. People aren't! (See: Basira's attitude toward Daisy vs her attitude toward Jon in season four.) Maybe she's more flexible about being willing to listen to Melanie, maybe she's starting to understand some of what was happening and how genuinely impossible a situation it really was. But that has to be a struggle for her, too; it's not a perfect, sweet, unconditionally good situation that teaches you that you've been unfair to the point of cruelty to someone you used to care about. And by the time the apocalypse rolls around, Melanie is, if she's lucky, just barely able to say she's healed from the plain physical trauma of blinding, never mind all the other baggage. They've got to be having a rough fucking time of it, at the very least, even if you assume that they're suddenly both the kind of people who will sit still and listen supportively and talk honestly about their own messy and complicated emotions, when neither of them have been that kind of person before.

(Another disclaimer because Fandom Is Like That: This is in no way a condemnation of or argument against fluffy What the Girlfriends fic; fic is for making fluffy things that you want to happen to your faves, or building fluffy content that you desperately need for whatever reason. Gods know there are plenty of unhealthy parts of Jon and Martin's relationship that I ignore in most of my fluffy fic. This is me attempting to work through my thoughts and feelings about the relationship I see in canon in the hopes of actually being able to write some fic about these girls myself someday, because I personally can't write fic until I understand canon, and so much of them happens offscreen because they're not main characters, and they're written with such depth and complexity that you can't just slap a stereotype on them and call it good. Which is awesome! But it means I gotta do the work, and I post it because a) it's work, and this is fandom, and I want validation; and b) I'm hoping other people have insights that might also help me clarify my thinking.)

[medicallyinevitable]

Medically Inevitable

Chapter 15:- Hopeful Happenings

Characters:- Arielle Valentine, Ethan Ramsey, Ines Delarosa, Kyra Santana

Pairing:- Ethan Ramsey x Arielle Valentine

Warnings:- Slight mentions of cancer

Word Count:- 1700+ words :)

General PoV:-

As the sun shines bright in the late morning, Arielle parks her car and heads straight towards Edenbrook’s locker room, a to-go cup in hand from Starbucks instead of Derry Roasters not wanting any chance to bump into Dr. Ramsey, despite knowing that he’s her boss. Making her way to the nurses’ station, she picks up her charts and textbooks and heads toward the cafeteria.

Arielle’s PoV:-

You keep at your textbooks, scouring the pages for anything that could explain Nigel's symptoms, and the tidal wave of self-doubt doesn’t help either. You let out a sigh, "Maybe Dr. Ramsey's right. Maybe I really don't belong here..."

"Mind if I join you?" A cheery voice snaps you back to reality.

You turn around to find Kyra. Dread fills in you as you see her. "Kyra, what are you doing here? Is your cancer back? Is something wrong?", you start asking.

"Woah! Dial down the doom and gloom there, Dr. Sob Emoji. I'm in remission." Kyra beams.

"What?! Oh my god congratulations! I’m so happy for you!" You envelope her in a warm hug which almost melts all your tension away.

"Just had another check-up. Will be coming a lot for those," she catches you up with her remission plan as you two sit. "No offense but I definitely look in better shape than you!"

"Ugh I know. I'm exhausted.” And just like that, all the tension fills your mind as you give her the details. " My shift ended like five hours ago, but instead of going home I am sitting here and reading till my eyes bleed."

"You should probably get that looked at." Kyra's face morphs into something serious but genuine as she continues.

"Look, I don't want to be that cancer survivor… but it did make me realize that life is too short." You give her a sad smile knowing how painful it must have been for her.

"We only get so many chances you know? But maybe you need that lesson more than I do," she continues after pausing for a moment.

"Is it that obvious?" You raise your brows.

"Let's chalk it up to my incredible intuition." Kyra smiles," Anyways there's an amazing ice cream shop nearby. They make an triple chocolate gelato that's literally to die for," she jokes, " You can take my word for that." "Why don't we visit that place? It'll give you a distraction and a much needed break."

You look at her and then your textbooks, not understanding what to do. All you can see is blurry lines. the words and concepts swim around in your very exhausted brain. You close the textbook with a slam after your answer is crystal clear.

"How can I say no to chocolate gelato!", you say dramatically.

"That's more like it!", Kyra beams. The two of you collect your belongings and make your way out as you tell Kyra everything about the dilemma with your latest patient.

"This place is pretty cute.", you say as you look around.

"Try nauseatingly adorable. I want to make it tiny and keep it in my bookshelf," Kyra replies. You laugh.

"You collect tiny shops?" You ask as the two of you made your way to the counter.

"I collect many sickeningly adorable things," she laughs before turning her attention to the boy behind the counter. "I’ll have the large Death by Chocolate please. And my absurdly attractive friend here will have…”, she nods for you to continue.

You roll your eyes at her before placing your order. You take a look at their menu before deciding to have the same one as Kyra as it's the most chocolatey one.

“I'll have the same.", you smile at the server.

The server scoops your gelato into two big cups and slides them across the counter while Kyra rummages through her bag for her wallet.

"I'll pay.“, you say getting your card out.

"No way!", she stops you by swiftly taking your card from you. You whine but to your dismay she doesn’t budge.

"This was my idea. Besides I didn't get out much during recovery. I've got months of dining-out budget to blow."

The next minute she's handing the cash to the server and then guiding you to a booth. As you two take your seats, Kyra hands you your card.

She takes a spoon full of her Death by Chocolate and sighs blissfully.

“Mmmmmm…”

You smile at her antics. "That good?" You ask before taking a bite.

"Orgasmic. I never used to eat junk food before my diagnosis."

She takes another bite and you take your first. You can't help but let out a moan as the chocolatey silkiness melts on your tongue. Kyra smirks and gives you a smug look.

She then continues, "I was super into exercising and calorie counting. I never did anything I wasn't supposed to." She smiles sadly. "And I still got lung cancer. At my twenties!"

"You must have been so strong!", you reply.

"Everyone keeps saying that but-", she pauses, "I don't know. I just went to the doctor to see why I was breathing weird."

She sighs. "Then suddenly I was going for all these tests, and then I had cancer."

She laughs humorlessly. "Life went from jogging and juice every morning to chemo and puking."

You can almost feel the pain as she speaks about her experiences even when you’re aware you’ll never truly understand.

"But I didn't do anything," she says, " Those things had to happen , and I had good insurance, so I did them. And it's not like I had any alternative."

"I think you should give yourself more credit.”, you reach for her hand and squeeze it in a comforting manner.

"You faced death with a smile on your face. I'll always remember you cracking jokes on the way to surgery-", you stop for a second before adding,"You are the strongest person I know Kyra."

Kyra blushes, a little embarrassed. "Well you can laugh or you can cry and I chose to laugh.”, she shrugs with a smile on her face.

"And like I said, I don't want to be that cancer survivor but it does put certain things into perspective."

"That kind of clarity must be nice.", you reply.

"Well yeah, you have to get some kind of consolation price for nearly dying, right?" She then shakes her head.

”But enough about that. If we keep talking about this you'll always see me as a girl who beat cancer."

"I'll never, Kyra." you say truthfully. "That's not how I see you."

"Oh yeah? And how do you exactly see me?" She asks playfully.

"I think you are inspiring."

A blush creeps on her face as she’s caught off guard, but quickly retaliates with a sassy reply. “If you keep giving me compliments then I’ll never let you hear the end of it.”

“We’ll see about that.” You both dissolve into fits of laughter as Kyra fills you up on the hospital gossip...

“What wait?! Seriously?! I can’t believe it!”

“Me either, but you know how gossip is!”, she replies with a shrug.

Just then your phone chimes. You pull it out to see it’s a reminder for your shift.

“Crap, I have 10 minutes till my shift.”

“Oof, you better hurry!”, she replies.

“We should do this again, this was really nice.”, you say as you gather your things.

“We should! Besides there would have to be 12 different things wrong with someone to turn down Gelato!”, she jokes.

“..12 different things wrong….. oh my god, Kyra, you’re a genius!”

You scramble to your feet and quickly throw away your cup.

“I like to think I am but what did I do?”, she asks.

“I’ll explain later!”, you yell.

“Ookay…” You rush back to the hospital, typing out a message on your pager as Kyra sits there in utter confusion.

“Well I guess I could get another scoop of gelato…”

————————————————————

An hour later, you take a deep breath before entering Nigel's room to find Ethan and Ines already inside.

“Well what are you waiting for?”, Dr. Ramsey says. Pushing back all of your invading memories of him, you continue with your explanation.

"I spent the last two days trying to figure out the one thing causing all of Mr.Platt's symptoms.”, you say as you stand beside Nigel's bedside.

"And?", he asks. For a split second, you can see a slight look of hope in his eyes, but it passes as quickly as it came, leaving you to believe it was a mere delusion of yours.

"That's when I realized nothing was causing all of them-" But before you can continue, you’re interrupted by Nigel.

"Are you calling-", he burps, “me a liar?", he asks, rude as always.

You control the urge to roll your eyes. He could've at least let you finish your sentence.

Ignoring him, you continue what you were saying," Mr.Platt has been experiencing tingling and hair loss but also cold sensitivity and some hearing problems." You pause for a second before continuing,"All of which point to hypothyroidism caused by Hashimoto's disease easily treated with levothyroxine."

"Go on." Ethan orders in his usual cold bossy tone.

"I couldn't fit in the constant burping and the chest pain… because it was completely separate." You explain. "I ordered a barium swallow X-ray and detected a hiatal hernia in the esophageal hole through the diaphragm."

"The treatment?", he asks, motioning you to continue.

"I have already booked a laparoscopic surgery to repair it.”, you answer with a touch of pride.

"Good work Dr.Valentine." Ines smiles at you.” You return it with a nod and a tentative smile.

"So ... I'll be cured?" Nigel asks.

"Yes-“, you calm yourself down before you rip him apart and then continue.

"You'll be good as new." you say instead with a forced smile.

"Good... because I don't want to spend a -" he burps, " second more in your hopeless company."

Your blood boils at this point as you bite your lip to control yourself. “The audacity! Ugh, he's a patient, Arielle. You have to be nice to him.”

"Mr. Platt, might suggest viewing this as a new lease on life. Perhaps a life where you don't make everyone around you miserable.”, Ethan's stern voice retorts, shocking you and Ines.

“No way...he did not!”

"Dr. Ramsey!" Ines exclaims with a shocked expression on her face, which you’re quite sure your face resembles.

"I'll report you! I want to talk to your manager," he says more angrily than before.

"Go ahead," Ethan says with a sarcastic smile." Maybe she can't talk to you like this but I sure as hell can."

You look at Nigel who looks like he's about to say something but just then Bryce struts in. He winks at you playfully as he passes you.

"Someone called for a laparoscopic surgery?"

"Oh great, first Barbie and now the damn Ken doll!” You don’t even attempt to hide the disgust on your face as you roll your eyes.

By the time you’ve finished your consultation with Bryce, Ines and Ethan have already left the room. Pleased with yourself, you take a left in the hallway without noticing Ethan standing leaning against the wall.

"Rookie..." His velvety baritone voice calls out, pulling you out of a haze.

Wincing, you stop dead in your tracks as the memories of the previous day replay in your mind. Still embarrassed with your encounter, you turn around but never meet his eyes. You’re sure you look like a kid, standing before him with your feet crossed, one hand fiddling with your hair as you bite your lip.

"So, you figured it out in the end. And you kept things professional.”, he nods, barely visible.

"I guess I just needed a… push.”, you reply in a timid voice laced with embarrassment.

"Maybe you aren’t so hopeless then.", he says.

Unlike yesterday, his voice isn’t filled with disappointment and malice.

So mustering up some courage, you look up to meet his eyes. Relief washes over you as you don’t detect a hint of disappointment in his eyes. He isn’t smiling but something in you tells you he isn’t angry. You don’t realise you’ve been staring into his oh-so blue eyes until his pager beeps, shaking you out of your reverie.

“..Uh- I’ll see you around, Dr. Ramsey.” You can almost swear that you see longing etched into his chiseled features as you lose yourself in his eyes once more.

“Likewise, Valentine.” With that, he turns around and stalks away.

You sigh and lean against the wall, the events since you started your residency swirl around like a hurricane filled with memories.

“What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

******************************************

And this concludes Season 1 of Medically Inevitable!

Authors’ Note:- Hey everyone, hope y’all enjoyed this chapter! As you’ve probably seen before, this is the last chapter of Season 1! Season 2 will be out soon, as soon as we work out the kinks and pump out a few chapters with different moodboards and title themes! Season 2 will be much more eventful, more drama, angst and shocking cliffhangers mixed in with the string of festivities that Thanksgiving and Christmas bring! Stay tuned and check our blogs and Instagram’s (same handle) for more updates! And lastly thank y’all so much for all the support, we are extremely grateful.

Love,

@drariellevalentine & @mysticaurathings

Medically Inevitable Taglist:- @whimsicallywayward15 | @iemcpbchoices | @sizzlingcashherohumanoid | @archveexz | @deepikakkannan | @nishas-paradise | @maurine07 | @archxxronrookie | @adrex04 | @everythingchoices | @rivenni | @annekebbphotography | @mrsethanfreakingramsey | @jamespotterthefirst | @natureblooms24 | @katkart122 | @udishaman | @hopelessromantics4life | @custaroonie | @mvalentine | @queencarb | @lisha1valecha | @ezekielbhandarivalleros | @ejrownsme @the-pale-goddess | @justanotherrookie | @miss-smrxtiee | @missmiimiie | @choicesfics | @romewritingshop | @taniasethi | @keithandlevi-ontheroof | @choicesfan10 | @open-heart-ramseyyy | @crookedkittyperson | @sistatribe | @tsrookie | @starrystarrytrouble | @caseyvalentineramsey | @alina-yol-ramsey | @openheartthot | @gryffindordaughterofathena | @binny1985 | @groovypalacehorselover | @akshara16 | @epiclazershark | @aarisa-frost | @shanzay44 | @jooous | @angela8754 | @red-rookie |

[orsuliya]

Dear General, just talk to your wife!

Let it be said: any male hero who interferes in his partner’s reproductive ability without her permission and/or knowledge is usually immediately cancelled in my eyes. That is certainly the case for any piece of media set in modern times. Fantasy/historical heroes get a bit of leeway depending on the cultural context, although not always. But the thing is, just as there are no blanket excuses, there are also no blanket condemnations. And you know what?

I do have to give Xiao Qi a get-out-of-immediate-cancellation card in this case! But not before examining his motivations and all mitigating circumstances. To be clear, I’m up to episode 37 at the moment.

So prepare yourself for Five Reasons Xiao Qi Is Very Much Not Cancelled (But He Certainly Deserves A Very Stern Talking To And Then Maybe A Hug).

To recap: Xiao Qi was told that Awu’s health is fragile and while she is able to get pregnant, any pregnancy is very risky and a considerable danger to her life. Upon hearing this he is visibly moved; three months later, when Awu comes back from the temple, there is a re-do wedding at the Yuzhang Manor, during which Xiao Qi announces that Wang Xuan is going to be the only woman in his life. At some point – either at the temple or after the wedding – Awu starts taking medicine prescribed by the Imperial Physician. The medicine, as Auntie Xu later discovers, is actually a tonic, which can be used to prevent conception. Eventually, though, after a year or two of continuous use, it will render a woman infertile for life. As of episode 37 (41 if I choose to trust the raws) Awu does not know what is going on.

And now onto the list!

1. The man is probably the most panicked he has ever been in his life and his mental state is not that great at the moment.

The first thing to remember is that this whole ‘let’s make Awu infertile’ decision is not taken in a void. It is not a case of an isolated event; the choice comes at an end of a veritable Trauma Conga Line. The exact timeline is very muddled, but in the last few months (up to a year) Awu has been: kidnapped, rescued, attacked by assasins, forced to deal with a rebelling city and then a siege, sent straight into a murderous conspiracy and then recruited to deal with a coup… and only then she was put in the very centre of a second coup courtesy of Daddy Wang. Which caused her to lose her child and her mother on the same day. And let’s not forget all the broken illusions about her family and her first love. That’s a lot to deal with and she is pure steel with a spine of titanium, there is no doubt as to that. But she is not the only one who’s had a really hard year.

From the kidnapping onwards Xiao Qi has been with Awu on this road; more often that not away from her physically, true, but from the moment he declared her his wife who will share his life and death…? He’s been in 100%. And being the strong, dependable, ride or die guy has taken its toll, one way or another.

It is quite noticeable that with every Big Damn Heroes moment he pulls off he gets more and more affected. The bridge rescue and its aftermath? Cool as a cucumber; the guilt and responsibility is certainly there, no fear though. Breaking of Huizhou siege? He’s proud as hell of her accomplishments, but he really came at the very last moment – she was getting ready to be killed rather than taken hostage. And there is this noticeable undertone of relief there. The Red Wedding? By then he is panicking. Hard. Which he readily admits, so it’s not pure conjecture. This man, who has never been afraid of attacking armies and not really afraid of death either, is scared as f***. Mind you, it’s not like he’s ever had anyone to be really scared for before; his soldiers are a different case altogether. And this time he was late, which makes for a really fertile soil for various ‘what-ifs’ during those two days when Awu is unconscious. He was late despite basically pulling off a miracle and risking entering the capital with only 10 000 troops.

And then and only then Daddy Wang pulls out all the stops. Two days of watching his unconscious wife is nothing compared to what happens then. First she runs into the middle of opposing forces, completely disregarding any danger to herself. For him (and her father, but that is beside the point)! I am sure that Song Huaien relayed her words to Xiao Qi once the dust settled. Then... Princess Jinmin dies and Awu starts bleeding.

After… After he claims responsibility for Princess Jinmin’s death. There is no doubt he is feeling doubly, triply responsible for the miscarriage. He can’t really help his wife. And he is grieving for their child. Not only for Awu’s sake, but for his own too.

It all culminates with the Imperial Physician telling Xiao Qi that there is another battle to be fought, one which Awu will probably enter with minimal hesitation and in which he is not going to be able to pull a Big Damn Heroes rescue. So in that moment he clutches at his heart… And – at least I think that’s the moment - takes a split-second decision: NOT AGAIN. Everything after that? He’s only holding to a chosen course.

2. He is feeling guilty as all hell and is overcompensating hard.

Xiao Qi is the epitome of a hyper-responsible hero. And not in the ‘Woe is me, everything is my fault!’ way that brooding heroes tend to veer to. No empty anguish or dramatic self-flagellation there! He is very matter of fact about both his responsibility and perceived guilt. Soldiers die under his command? He will honour their memory and take care of their families. Awu gets kidnapped by his personal enemy? He will admit his guilt without any excuses and offer recompense. Princess Jinmin becomes a victim of a stand-off that he did not even provoke? He will take the blame and then redeem himself by swearing an oath that he will not fail to protect Awu. And he takes his oaths very, very seriously, otherwise the Ma family would have a Really Big Problem.

All that responsibility comes from both his own character and the force of habit. Nobody ever worries about me, he says. To his soldiers he is the strong, infallible one and so he keeps this facade intact despite knowing it’s a load of bull.

So this hyper-responsible man has unwittingly sent his wife into danger, into battle (!) three times already (kidnapping, rebellion in Huizhou, Zilu’s coup) and was part of the reason she entered the fourth one. And while she has acquitted herself brilliantly every time, she paid a very steep price for saving him/the Empire. In his mind, he owes it to her and to Princess Jinmin for it to never ever happen again. And so he is not going to send her into the battle of childbirth for anything under the sun! The thing is, Awu is brave as hell and would enter it willingly in a blink of an eye. So he is arranging things so that she can never do that in the first place.

3. Xiao Qi is trying to spare Awu from mental and emotional anguish. It’s a pattern and one wildly spiraling out of control.

It’s really, really starting to show that Xiao Qi is used to being regarded as the infallible one, the one who must always find a solution and save as many people as he can. And while it is not a problem in Ningshuo, when he needs to tell Awu the truth about her father (and still he hesitates!), it tends to come through quite strongly in moments of stress and/or danger. Which is understandable, I think. In Ningshuo the stakes are not as high, everybody is safe and they are in the middle of Xiao Qi’s fortress, the very centre of his power. If there is any place he feels safe and at home, it’s right there. The capital is a wholly different kettle of fish; even on his first visit Xiao Qi is – quite reasonably – wary and on guard. For him the capital is behind enemy lines. So he reverts to his Infallible General mindset more and more: he keeps telling Awu things, but not all of them (money) and not always immediately (Hulans asking for a bride). Which is really stupid of him since Awu is in many areas just as smart - if not smarter - than him.

It’s not only the Infallible General mindset, though. In fact, that is the least of the problems there. By this point the panic is really setting in and so is the guilt. There is one more thing, though. Xiao Qi has this tendency towards self-deprecation. He does not wallow in it, but the undercurrent of his perceived social inferiority emerges from time to time, moreso in the capital. And it does factor in his behaviour; I sense that he has this need to keep deserving her. Coupled with devotion, it pushes him into a very touching, but also potentially dangerous single-mindedness.

Saving Daddy Wang by kneeling all night long clearly shows that Xiao Qi will stop at nothing to spare Awu’s heart, life and health. Personal pride? Enmity towards Daddy Wang? Political expedience? Disregarded completely. So what’s a year or two of lying if it means Awu lives? He’s set himself a Goal: protect Awu, just as he promised before Princess Jinmin’s grave. And it’s really been blinding him since.

Notice that he did not tell her about saving Daddy Wang either. She had to find out from His Imperial Spudness! True, it all worked out fine then, but whatever his reasons, he still did not tell her. And yes, I get that his reasons were really noble, but! But it is still a pattern, one that I hope she will break him out of rather sooner than later.

4. He is making a great sacrifice too; hear me out! And he does not leave himself an out.

This is the kind of argument that launches a flaming discussion, so please, be gentle. Anyway, we are not going to speak of whether any man has the right to make unilateral decisions about his wife’s body, that’s neither here nor there in this case, since it does not really enter into consideration in the drama itself.

What is clearly very important in the drama is the idea of family lines. The Wang and Xie families are all about this idea of legacy and bloodlines. Bloodlines are Important: propagating the bloodline is Wang Su’s main duty and both families fight over whose blood will sit on the throne. This clan mentality is clearly a Very Serious Business. Admittedly, Xiao Qi is an outsider to the clan-based society of upper classes. But even though his primary social group consists of his brothers-in-arms, he is very acutely attuned to the idea of family being the most important thing. It shows in many aspects of his life: in the care he gives to his soldiers’ families, in the consideration he gives Awu when she encounters another heartbreaking truth about her relatives and in the way he seems to take for granted that she will not stop caring for Daddy Wang no matter what. Also, he clearly likes kids, the mysterious shadow child gave us this much.

So it is not out of the realm of possibility that he would really like to have a child of his own. And why wouldn’t he? Awu may have trouble bearing him children, but there is nothing stopping him from taking a concubine or a dozen for this very purpose. Any other man in this drama would have (maybe except Zilu…?). And the society would not judge him, especially if the truth about Awu’s condition came out. It really is not a monogamistic society. Moreover, since Daddy Wang is not in the picture any more, nobody can even try to force Xiao Qi to keep to one bed (or poison his concubine…), not with his current position and power.

And what is the very first thing he does after Awu comes home? He declares – in public and with great pomp! - that Awu will be his only woman, thus staking his honor and reputation on all his children being hers. Which with the tonic in play means that there will be no children. It is a decision he takes very deliberately and in direct response to the previous events and the Wangs’ fall from grace. In fact, I wager this whole monogamy clause is a way not only to quell the rumours and stop any scheming families in their tracks, but also to keep things fair as much as it is even possible. Awu will not have children, well, neither will he.  

5. He is setting himself up and preemptively hogging all the guilt and blame.

The short yet very poignant exchange with Pang Gui in episode 37 makes it clear that Xiao Qi knows quite well he is going to be found out sooner or later. Sure, he would rather that Pang Gui kept mum about everything, but in reality he leaves it wholly up to his judgment. Which tells me that Xiao Qi is not willing to ‘kill’ for this secret. In fact, it might suit his plans if it were to come out… though not at the moment. Maybe after the requisite year or two, once Awu is no longer in any danger. Relying on what we know about his character, I think he is wholly prepared for the truth to eventually come out and then to take all the blame. And I mean ALL the blame. As in: Awu will have no reason to blame herself for her fragile health and thus inability to bear children, if it’s actually Xiao Qi’s fault. He will have gotten her infertile, so her actual ability to give birth safely will be immaterial. She will put all her anger on him and not on herself, and anger he can take, it’s her getting quiet that he can’t cope with. And to hell with what it does to their marriage, she will be alive. Is it stupid, stupid thinking? Sure. But quite probable when you’re dealing with a man this hyper-responsible and clearly unused to family dynamics.

And that’s that. Do I think he is being a single-minded fool? Sure. The man is not perfect after all! Does he need to talk to Awu? Of course, but I get where his unwillingness to do just that comes from. Is it going to bite him in the ass really, really hard? Oooooh, is it! But Xiao Qi is not cancelled and if Awu forgives him, then so should we all.

[backseatsiren]

A Dramatic Day

It’s been awhile since I’ve written here! There are a couple of reasons: first, my life has reached brave new heights of busy - I was promoted to Editor in Chief at work a bit over a year ago, and my responsibilities there obviously take a lot of time. I’m also teaching more courses than usual at Berklee (right now, one section of Film and TV and two of Game Design Principles), and, as usual, I’m training grappling on top of it all. Plus, naturally, the ambulance. I’m hitting my tour hours, and proud to do it, and as pumped as ever to be an EMT in this neighborhood.

I’m also... very, very, VERY slowly *actually writing a book* about all of this. I’ve begun interviewing a few fellow EMTs, mainly volunteers, about what it is we do. Because of how insane my schedule is, it’ll be a very long term project, and I can’t put any pressure to finish soon. But, especially through the pandemic, I’ve felt a desire to document and interview and report on the idea of volunteer emergency medical services in New York City, here in Brooklyn and Queens, and I think other folks might be interested in reading a bit about it.

But I’d like to get back into the practice of writing about calls and concepts and experiences. As always, I’ll respect patients and patient privacy, and will never reveal identifying information or anything inappropriate.

Today was a fairly busy day, but it started with a bit of a dramatic call. We were called to an unknown, and flagged down by a bystander. A man called us over and told us that he saw a man lying on the train tracks (a less-used track, not the subway or commuter rail or anything). He said he regularly feeds a colony of feral cats there, and noticed the gentleman lying down the way.

We thanked him and high tailed it over, yelling out to him (the usual “sir are you ok?”). My more experienced (many, many years in EMS, including at a much higher level of certification) partner took a look at him and said “he might be dead” and began looking forward a pulse. He went for more help (another ambulance was arriving and they needed to be directed over, the physical layout of the space was weird), and he instructed me to look for a pulse. I did, and found nothing. My other partner (a newer EMT, just cleared for CC status, who I also love working with), said “he’s cold to the touch.”

It was raining lightly. The tracks were a little slick, and there was some litter. It’s early may, and the grass had that beautiful sheen on it, that it gets in the rain. Weird things, visual and sense memory things, are coming back as I write about it.

He was lying down on his face on the tracks. I checked for a carotid pulse again and felt nothing. I checked his hands - they were closed and held tight. Rigor Mortis. I checked his arms, his coat, his clothing, careful not to mess with anything, but looking for lividity. He was bleeding from his face, and, on inspection, his face was very clearly badly injured, bruised, and bloated. I was wearing an N95, but even so, you could smell that he was deceased.

I told my more experienced partner that when he arrived with the other crew. We inspected the scene - noting a shovel and some other tools. There was a little encampment nearby - possibly where this man lived. Beer and food in a little shelter.

It certainly looked like foul play was possible. I learned a few minutes later (on my next call) that the cops did start an investigation there.

As one of the other EMTs from the other crew noted, it was “like a movie scene.” Something about the rain and the light, the way the blood pooled, the way the ants crawled around in it... was surreal. It may have been my less experienced partner’s first DOA when they were first on the scene (it wasn’t mine, but it was certainly the first *outdoor* DOA where I’ve been first and had to help establish that). It was my first suspected murder scene.

And yes, it was deeply sad. There’s some initial adrenaline, for me, in every call. There would be more on my other calls today. There is a voice in my head that repeats a lot of the basic instructions and goes through scenarios: “ABCs” (a note to always prioritize airway, breathing, and circulation). I think about what happened in any given situation and what I should do for my patient. I look for threats to everyone’s safety. And when I can breathe and get a clearer picture of what’s going on, that’s when I can start to process things a bit.

We covered him with a clean sheet from the ambulance and did all the things we needed to do. We talked about it a little, after the call. But I always need to think about things for a few hours after, which is what I’m doing here, by writing about it a bit.

I’m a deeply, empathetic person. I feel for my patients. The call I’m about to talk about - the very next call - required that of me in a different way. But in this scenario, I want to first do everything right for the person and situation, and next, be as respectful as humanly possible. This poor man died - was very probably killed - and was left outside in the rain. I don’t know much about his life, and very little about his death. The whole scenario is very sad, and very surreal.

Every time I’ve had a dead patient, it’s stuck with me. I don’t think I’ll ever forget my first, a woman who very probably died of a heart attack or in her sleep, and her son found her. He was mourning. He was on top of the body, hugging her, crying “I’m sorry, mommy,” and there’s... I guess there’s nothing on earth like that. Nothing like that kind of pain. People, as a rule, do not expect to see their loved ones deceased, and when we do, we usually have a ceremony for it.

I’m just a bystander to that. I can do nothing to help the deceased person, and very little for a mourning loved one, besides being a respectful, empathetic human presence. For my deceased patient today, all we could do was establish that he was dead and do the proper things to ensure his remains would be taken care of (and his death investigated).

My next call was very different, but it was heavy in a different way. We got a call for, basically, a suicidal young woman. We arrived, with PD, to her door. The officers assessed things to an extent, but she revealed that she had been traumatized by police in the recent past, and didn’t want any police in her home. I talked with her calmly, and was able to relieve the cops and take this one, with my partner.

We listened to her. She had obviously been through some extreme trauma and needed mental health resources. I won’t reveal any details here, but I had to keep assuring her that I had no handcuffs and wasn’t interested in taking her against her will. She was terrified of being taken somewhere she didn’t want to go, and I basically sat calmly with her and talked to her about her options. Just talking. Just listening.

This is a case, like a patient a couple of years ago, where I’m very happy to take my time. I’m a volunteer, man. I’m not grinding through a shift for miserable pay, as most EMTs are - I’m here because I frankly want to be useful in this manner.

And I’m happy to sit with a person going through emotional hell, because this is what I can help with. I’m five years into being an EMT with RVAC. I do this 2-3 shifts per month, so I’ll never be the fastest, best, EMT in NYC. But I can be the most patient EMT, and I can give plenty of extra time to a person.

I’m not a therapist, and I don’t pretend to be. That’s what I told her - first, that I’m not a cop, I don’t have cuffs, I have no interest in taking her if she’s of sound mind and doesn’t want to go. Then, second, that I’m no doctor, and no therapist, and that I want her to have resources if she needs them.

We talked more, and did more vitals, and she decided she wanted to come to a mental health facility. We explained every step of the process to her, and what she could expect, and what to bring.

Do I wish I was an actual therapist who could help this girl right away? Yeah. Do I wish I had the ability to make mental health policy that provides good, effective, supportive therapy to all human beings who need it? Yeah. Do I wish I could do better for her than an ER with psych specialists? Where she could easily get lost in the cracks or simply never connect with what she truly needs? Yeah.

I can only take her to a place where people are at least trained to assess her and offer her further resources. I can only hope they actually can help, and do so.

I had another call where we did a bit of *psychological first aid* not long after that. A dramatic scene! A young woman fainted at work at a store, and several people were surrounding her and holding her at the scene! Folks were holding her hands and crying.

It looked wild at first glance, but our patient was completely ok - we got her out, had medics assess her completely, and brought her to the ER while assuring her parents that things looked ok. Her mother was extremely upset, and we had a bit of a language barrier, but we were able to assure her and let her know things looked ok, that her child had very promising vitals and EKG readings, and we just needed the ER visit to make sure.

The medics helping us out were INCREDIBLE. They offered a full walkthrough for us of what was going on physiologically with her and gave a very helpful tip on scenes like that - give bystanders little jobs (just simple stuff, like holding the door, or looking for something like a towel) to do! It helps (caring, kind, just want to help) folks feel helpful when they get scared, especially in dramatic-looking situations.

A lot of drama today. A lot of learning. I felt really good about taking charge with my psych patient and helping her to feel safe and able to make her own decision. Im glad we were able to help our young fainting patient. And as much as it’s heavy, I’m glad I was at least on scene today for our first call. I know I can do nothing but confirm obvious death, but, I take some heart in the kind bystander who called for him (the gentleman who feeds cats nearby).

At least someone cared enough to try.

I’m forever grateful for my partners, for the folks who have taken the time to teach me (back when I was VERY green and still, to this day, as I am learning every single shift), and for the patients who trust me to do my best for them. 

I noticed today, this month marks five years of doing this, with my volunteer corps. I can only hope I learn more and become a more effective EMT as I go.

[goldenkamuyhunting]

Ramblings and crazy theory time about GK chap 256 “Tokushirou’s number one”

So we get a new chapter in which…

…yeah, Usami gets friendzones but as he’s happy about it and honestly, his relationship with Tsurumi wasn’t what I would call normal.... well, I guess this is all well and good.

So we resume from where we started.

After Usami got shoot by Ogata’s bullet he falls back and right down the stairs while Ogata gets a clip of bullets and recharges his rifle as fast as he can.

However, by the time he can approach the stairs and shoot again Usami has understood he has lost the upper hand and had escaped, leaving a trail of blood behind himself.

Usami’s wound his serious, as he’s bleeding profusely, panting and sweating and looking fatigued. Evidently Ogata has hit a blood vessel.

Knowing this could kill him and that he’s no more in shape to face Ogata, Usami decides he doesn’t have anymore the time to worry about Hyakunosuke (yes, he still calls him just by name, I wonder what kind of relation they used to have before all this mess) and that he has to hurry pass the skins and the info he collected to Tsurumi.

It took him a bullet that almost killed him to rearrange his priorities and understand his petty grudges weren’t so relevant after all.

Meanwhile, outside, Ueji is giving the firefighters hell by tugging the water pump and causing one to risk falling from the stairs. He also has knocked unconscious a firefighter and then begins to climb on their stairs, confusing all the remaining firefighters.

I guess the firefighters are really devoted to save lives so they couldn’t start waving those stairs really hard when he’s high enough and cause him to crash on the ground, possibly where the fire is. Pity.

Back to Usami, he has left the building and has spotted one of the carriages of the firefighters, and, more importantly, the horses attached to it which would grant him a fast escape.

At the same time we see again a scene from chap 255, the one in which Sugimoto tosses Ostrog off a window, remarking than rather than worrying about who gave birth to him he should have worried about what he lived for. This means this scene is happening at the same time as that one but it’s also a veiled remark to Usami who has dismissed Ogata as the mere son of a prostitute and ended up getting shoot by him… though I’ll say more than worrying about what Ogata lived for he should have worried about what Ogata could do.

But whatever, let’s go on.

Sugimoto tosses Ostrog out of the window, Ogata notices him falling and, below him, Usami running away on a horse.

I’m surprised Ushiyama, who was right below that window, didn’t seem to notice Usami because it’s true he was turned toward the building but he should have heard the horse running but whatever, it’s not relevant.

Ogata aims at Usami, saying that if Usami is really concerned about being or not a cheap piece he can discover the truth watching Tsurumi’s expression at his funeral.

Now, Noda does a really clever thing here.

With a clever trick of panels seems to depict Ogata as having a chance to shoot Sugimoto through the window.

Maybe he does. Maybe he does not.

Actually not only it’s unclear if Ogata could see Sugimoto as the inside of the place isn’t exactly well light but Sugimoto has moved away already from the broken window and is near the close window above Usami.

Now… there’s something that puzzles me though and that is how, when Ogata shoot, Usami wasn’t visible anymore, as if he had already turned the corner, something that’s easily noticeable when we place the panel prior to Ogata shooting that was on page 8 and the panel in which Ogata shoots on page 9.

See? Usami has turned the corner and therefore is not visible anymore.

This makes me wonder if it’s possible Ogata’s bullet actually hit him because it went through the broken window and then out of the closed window (the one near which Sugimoto was standing) and, from it, through Usami.

This would mean that the panels showing the windows above Usami and near which Sugimoto is don’t actually aim to draw our attention on Sugimoto, who’s actually leaving the frame but on the window at which Ogata is, visible through it.

This would be an hellishly impressive shoot because Ogata basically hit Usami without even seeing him (or even more impressive if he could actually see him through those two windows), and what’s worse would alert Sugimoto of Ogata’s position there.

I doubt Sugimoto would realize Ogata shoot Usami and not him which probably would send him in another drunken rampage as we shouldn’t forget Sugimoto is drunk.

I’m not sure though, the scene will be probably cleared up in the next chapter.

Anyway Ogata’s bullet hits Usami perfectly. I think it went through his spine as Usami falls from the horse like a broken doll, his legs completely limp.

Luckily for him he falls in Tsurumi’s arms as Tsurumi coincidentally got there right in that moment, allowing Usami to see his beloved first lieutenant for his last few moments.

Meanwhile Ogata, who has no doubts he had hit the mark, has moved away from the window and thanking Usami as he believed killing Usami completed him as a sniper. As he says so he removes the bandages that were covering his face to reveal… not a scar or an empty eye socked but a new right eye. It immediately turns out it’s a glass one though, as it escapes his eye socket.

I guess Hijikata paid for it as Ogata seemed to be bankrupted when he got in Hokkaido. Ogata, still in a great mood, grabs it and will likely place it back.

I guess he wore the bandages as a personal way to tell himself he was an incomplete sniper and now that he feels he’s complete he removed them.

To all whose who wondered yes, it’s possible to remove an eye without leaving a huge scar as it’s easy enough to pop out an eye from its socket. I don’t encourage you to try doing it though.

Back to Usami he hands out the copy he stole to Kadokura and tries to say something to Tsurumi about Kadokura.

I’m not sure if he manages and we just don’t get to hear it or Tsurumi cut him out. We’ll see.

Tsurumi, slipping into the Niigata dialect, praises him (Tsurumi and Usami are both from Niigata). It’s worth to mention that vol 23 changed all the dialogues in the Tsurumi/Usami flashback so that the two of them were always talking in Niigata dialect. This, along with the ironic fact that vol 23 got Usami on its cover, ties this chapter to that flashback and explains the conclusion of their story.

At the praise Usami raises his hand toward Tsurumi, placing his little finger against his mouth. Tsurumi takes it in and bites it off.

It’s the second time Tsurumi bites off a finger, the first being with Wada but, back then he spat it in Wada’s face (is Noda also about to bring back Wada’s death into the plot?).

Now instead he implied he swallowed it (although no swallowing sound onomatopoeia is present) claiming this way the two of them will be together forever and that, like this ‘Tokishige-kun’ will live inside him forever (Tokishige-kun being how Tsurumi used to call him in the flashback) as his number one… friend.

‘Kore de watashitachi ha issho-ra suke. Tokishige-kun wa watashi no naka de ichiban no tomo to shite iki tsudzuken dare.’

これで私たちは一緒らすけ。時重くんは私の中で一番の友として生き続けんだれ

“With this we're together. Tokishige-kun will continue to live in me as my number 1 friend.”

So yeah, Usami has been deeply friendzoned.

Well, actually ‘tomo’ (友) can also mean “companion”, “comrade” and, interesting enough, it seems that the word ‘uruwashiki tomo’ (麗しき友 “beautiful friend”) was speculated to refer to an homosexual relation in the past (though it’s currently not sure) so the word ‘tomo’ could give the impression of being something more than a friend to a Japanese person.

But whatever, I honestly don’t think Tsurumi had romantic feelings for Usami, he’s just using pretty words to put him at ease in his last moments.

Usami relies in the romance of the moment saying it makes him so happy he’s going to cum… because Usami is a man who knows what to do in romantic moments… as he does so he calls Tsurumi just ‘Tokushirou-san’ (篤四郎さん) as he used to do in the flashback.

Tsurumi than takes the pose of the ‘Pietà’ (“Piety”; 1498–1499), a work of Renaissance sculpture by Michelangelo Buonarroti, housed in St. Peter's Basilica, Vatican City (which is beautiful but even more awesome up close, I can confirm as I went to see it and I recommend everyone to do the same), taking for himself the pose of the Virgin Mary while Usami is meant to be Jesus.

Please, let me shudder in horror at the idea… although Tsurumi likes to present himself as the Virgin which is highly ironic considering the whole discussion about immaculate conception taking place in the previous chapters. Is this Noda’s way to say that in a way it’s Tsurumi who gave birth to the Usami we know?

Does Tsurumi genuinely mourn Usami, whom he, after all, knew from when Usami was a child, in a time in which Tsurumi possibly was more emotionally stable?

In short, is Usami more than a cheap piece, as he longed for or Usami is feeding him another of his sweet lies because he has his men around and they’ve to think he cares about them?

Everything is possible as we should remember there’s another little finger Tsurumi took, and that one is the little finger of his wife. He apparently didn’t ate it but kept it with himself and she and little Olga are depicted as the reason why he became the way he is. So if he wanted to be one with someone I would expect him to wish to be one with them.

On another side, Japanese at the time differentiated the relationship they had with their wife with the relationship they could have with their male ‘friends’ so maybe Tsurumi might want to keep both.

I don’t know but I’m honestly skeptical about Tsurumi genuinely caring for Usami and it’s interesting how the last panel shows Tsurumi’s face completely in the dark as he moves close to Usami’s face, which is not smiling anymore. Is Usami dead already or he can still see? We’ll probably discover in the next chapter as Ueji interrupt the scene.

He managed to climb up a tall chimney and is calling everyone’s attention on himself… which would make this the perfect moment to shoot him. Ogata please, if you would? Vasily, you too, do something useful, please.

Anyway the chapter ends here.

Some last words of the pinky eating scene.

In Japanese the pinky is ‘koyubi’ (小指) the “little finger” and it’s a finger with interesting meanings.

The Japanese raises it to mean they’re talking about their girlfriend for example.

You’re probably also familiar with ‘Yubitsume’ (指詰め "finger shortening"), the Japanese ritual to atone for offenses to another, a way to be punished or to show sincere apology and remorse to another, by means of amputating portions of one's own little finger. That’s because the little finger was important in order to keep a good grip on the katana so losing it or part of it was a considerable weakness.

You might have heard also of ‘yubikiri’ (指切り, "finger cut-off"), the Japanese version of pinky swearing, often additionally confirmed with the vow ‘Yubikiri genman, uso tsuitara hari senbon nomasu’ (指切り拳万、嘘ついたら針千本呑ます “Finger cut-off, ten thousand fist-punchings, whoever lies has to swallow a thousand needles.”).

There are also sources that suggest the term pinky swear traces its history back to the early 1600s to mid-1800s. During this time, prostitutes were rumored to cut off their pinkies to give to customers they like. This grand yet bloody gesture signifies that they have developed affections for the customer and are willing to take their lives for them… which would basically compare Usami to a prostitute.

But there’s also a more romantic meaning to the pinky and that’s that how the ‘unmei no akaī ito’ (運命の赤い糸 “red thread of fate”) which is supposed to be an invisible red cord tied around the finger of those that are destined to meet one another in a certain situation as they are “their true love” is meant to be tied to the pinky.

You’ve probably read the notes the scanlators put at the end of the chapter so you are aware already of what ‘Honekami’ (骨噛み “Chewing the bone”) is and how it was practiced in Niigata. Now you also know why Usami might have wanted to encourage Tsurumi to bite away that particular finger and it wasn’t just a coincidental choice... and why being friendzoned might not feel so bad to him.

Well, that’s all for the chapter.

In the next we will probably discover what Ueji has to say, if Ogata really shoot Usami through the window Sugimoto was near to and therefore got his full attention and maybe if Tsurumi really cared for Usami and if Usami managed to deliver Kadokura’s secret… or if Ogata will discover it.

We’ll see.

Anyway with this chapter Usami leaves the cast.

He’s the third relevant character to leave the cast, after Kiroranke and Ienaga.

While he didn’t grow up to be a good person, but he actually went uninged as Ostrog, in a way I’m still sad for the little kid with light in his eyes that didn’t get to grow up as a normal person but got so wrapped up in his crush for Tsurumi he ended up murdering his best friend in jealous rage and then never managed to recover his mental sanity. Usami never managed to let go of his obsession, he only became worse.

It’s sad exactly because it could happen and it ruins a life forever.

[silvereddaye]

Two Babies and the 501st

This is a WIP. I may not do anything else with it, but I’d like to. The concept is what if Luke and Leia as babies somehow time travel back to the Clone Wars in the middle of battle. The clones have to take care of these mysterious babies who are supposedly the children of their general. Hijinks ensue. (PS I haven’t proof read this at all. So there could be a lot of mistakes.)

-- -- -- -- -- 

Anakin walked into the base of the 501st after a successful battle. They hadn’t won the war for this planet yet. That was still quite a ways off. The Separatists had dug in deep. Luckily there weren’t many settlements here. The planet was mostly mining and lumber camps. There weren’t even large factories to process the raw materials. Everything was shipped off the planet as soon as they collected it. But the resource-rich planet was needed on both sides of this war and neither one wanted to let it go to the other. That was why General and Jedi Knight, Anakin Skywalker, was there with his clone troops. He would free this planet. 

Well after a meal, a sonic shower, and some sleep. He didn’t want to look over reports. He didn’t want to send a report to the Jedi Council. He just wanted some rest. His body felt heavy. His Jedi robes were dusty and singed. He stretched as he walked through the base. Clones saluted or nodded hello. He had a good rapport with his men, but they seemed to be staring. Anakin looked himself over. He didn’t have any large bleeding wounds. He still had all of his clothes and his lightsaber. He patted his head. His hair was there. He slowed down his pace. Yes. The clones were staring at him. 

He groaned and altered course. Something was going on or had happened and the rumor mill had already caught hold of it. He didn’t want to wake up several hours later having to deal with the fallout of old gossip or updated plans. He made his way to the command building but stopped as he noticed Captain Rex jogging over to him. 

“General, sir!” Rex said as he came to a stop. “You’re needed in the medics’ hall.” 

“Is something wrong? Is it Ahsoka? Did she--”

“Commander Tano is fine, sir,” Rex said. “But it’s uh . . . Well uh . . . the men on patrol in the east valley they uh . . . You need to come see this for yourself, sir.” 

Anakin nodded and made his way towards the long thin building where the medics had set up. It was odd to see Rex so flustered. He wondered what could have possibly twisted the captain’s tongue up. The closer he got to the medics, the more the clones seemed to be staring at him. A few even whispered to a fellow trooper when they saw him. Oh. There was definitely something up. Something to do with him, but what had he done? He was almost tempted to spin around and demand answers from Rex, who was following directly behind him. But he kept walking.

He entered the medics’ hall. There was a row of thin metal medical beds lining one wall. Beyond that were tables and stations for the medics to work. There was a group of clones crowded around something back there. He could just make out the tips of Ahsoka’s montrals among the crowd. 

“Alright men, what’s the problem?” 

A hush fell among all of them at once. They all turned around to face them. Their eyes were wide. It wasn’t fear or concern, but curiosity? What in the Force was going on? Then he heard it. A cry. A very distinctive cry. A cry that clones did not and could not make. It was not a cry from Ahsoka. It was a cry of a baby. The clones parted as he rushed forward. 

On the table were two babies dressed in off-white onesies. They were both fair-skinned humans. They were the same size and looked very similar. One baby had lighter hair than the other, but that was all Anakin noticed that was different. Everyone was silent and watching him. The only noise was from the lighter-haired baby. 

“Where did these come from?” Anakin asked waving his hand at the babies. 

Humans weren’t the colonizers on this planet. It was mostly Sullustans, Wookies, and a few Tarros. He hadn’t seen any reports of humans on the planet, but that didn’t mean they weren’t any. 

“We found them in a box, sir,” one clone said. “In the east valley. All alone. No one around for miles.” 

Who would leave two babies near an active war zone? 

“There, uh, was a note sir. Addressed to you.” 

“Me?” 

Someone passed him a folded piece of flimsi paper. Written on it in neat handwriting he didn’t recognize was his own name: Anakin Skywalker. He flipped the paper open. The note read: These are your children. Luke and Leia. His eyes snapped back up to the babies. Babies! He absentmindedly put the note on the table as he placed both his hands down flat and leaned over. He looked down at the children.

It was . . . It was impossible!

“This is impossible!” he said as he leaned away. “These aren’t my children! I have never . . . never . . .”

“Never what?” Ahsoka asked with a huge grin. 

Anakin’s cheeks flushed red. 

“It’s impossible,” he repeated. It was! The only person he had ever slept with was Padme! And there was no way these were her children! She wouldn’t have left them in a battlefield! Plus she was never pregnant. 

“We could do a quick DNA test,” a medic offers. 

“Why would we do that?” Anakin asked. “There is no way these are my children!” It was clear no one else believed him. They were are skeptical. Even Ahsoka. “Fine!” he shouted. “Let’s prove they aren’t mine.” 

The results stated that 1.) the babies were siblings and 2.) Anakin Skywalker was their father. Which was still impossible. 

“I don’t . . . How . . . I mean I never have slept with . . . Who . . . “ Anakin rambled as he paced back and forth in the back of the hall. Ahsoka had the girl baby, Leia, in her arms. She was feeding her a bottle. Apparently, whoever had left the babies, had also thought to pack their box with formula and diapers. One of the clones had the other baby. The clone smiled as the baby nodded off. “They’re clones or something,” Anakin muttered. “Or somehow someone got my blood or genes and made some babies in test tubes because there is no way, no way!, these babies came about naturally. That is for sure!” 

“Did you want to hold her?” Ahsoka asked. 

Anakin froze as he looked at his padawan and . . . and . . . daughter? No. No, he wasn’t going to think of these babies like that. They were not his. There had been an error. 

“No,” he said. “I uh . . . Gotta go make a report to the Council.” 

He rushed past the babies without looking at them and out of the hall. It felt like every kriffin’ clone was looking at him. Did they know? They had to know. Juicy gossip travels fast. The officers and troopers in the command room were professional if they knew. No one gave him any long or odd looks. He didn’t pause. He marched straight to the comms room, told the officer on duty to leave, and immediately dialed up the council on the large blue holotable. It didn’t take long for the blue hologram of Obi-Wan to show up. He was thank-the-Force alone. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “How did your attack on--”

“There are babies,” Anakin blurted out. 

Obi-Wan blinked. “Babies?” 

“Two babies. Twins. A patrol found them. They had been abandoned here. There was, uh, a note saying so. The clones brought them here. We can’t keep babies here. I need a transport to lift them out.” 

“Anakin, the Separatists have put up a blockade around that system to prevent any supplies from reaching you and your men. We can’t get a transport in, much less out again.”

He knew that. He totally, completely knew that, but had just forgotten it for a moment. Kriff. 

“What am I going to do?” 

“Where is the closest settlement? You could drop them off there?” 

“What? No! I can’t do that!” 

“Why not? You said it yourself. You can’t keep babies there. They’ll be much safer in a camp. Probably someone will adopt them.” 

His heart was tight. He didn’t want the babies, or well he did want babies. He wanted lots of babies with Padme, but this was a different matter. He didn’t want these babies right now, but he couldn’t stomach just giving them away. They were . . . supposedly his. 

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“Yes,” he said. “Yes. I’ll deal with it.” 

He clicked the call off before another word could be said, because the only “deal with it” Anakin could think of was he was going to keep the babies. With his army. During a war.