#and i can very easily point to it as something that is causing me duress

[janeway-lover]

hey you know how sometimes your parents have a dumb rule and you KNOW it's a dumb rule but it still kinda leaves you fucked up?

yeah that sucks ass and i really hate it right now

[trashcatsnark]

I've been toying with an AU where Johnny gets to return to his body AND V survives, but the relic still wrecked their body and they're still dying, so they join the Aldecaldos to look for the cure (essetially the star ending + Johnny). Johnny kinda had to become the caretaker for V, since they're too weak to do a lot themselves. He feels like he's fucking up constantly, but he's doing his best; he can't cook, but he always buys V their favorite flavor of instant ramen, for example. Or does something like "you should sleep V, you look like shit. You don't feel like it? Too bad, because I'm lying down right next to you and I'm not leaving untill I hear you snoring (which you do btw)". In reality he loves to listen to their heartbeat and breathing, and now that he has his own, he hopes that V finds it as comforting and soothing as the other way around. He devoted himself to getting V the help they need and V themselves back when he was an engram, and he intends to keep this promise of guardianship in whatever form necessary, be it snapping someone's neck to protect them or making them some ramen and nagging them to eat it.

Awwwwwwww, I adore that please give me! (V better end up okay in that AU or I’ll riot) 

Spoilers for Cyberpunk 2077 Endings In My Response 

I downright adore the idea of Johnny at some point having to take care of V. I really want with my own V for it to follow Temperance ending at first with V letting him take their body. And then Johnny very adamantly saying No, fuck it I can’t let this go, I will rip V out of cyberspace if only to wring their neck and tell them what an idiot they are for sacrificing their life for mine. 

So, he works with all of the everybody to get them back, get him a body because V refuses to leave cyberspace unless they’re both saved, And they find a fix. 

But what I’m getting to is similarly to your AU is I imagine, all of this will take a huge toll on V’s body and the recovery process will be a long one. Days, weeks, where V barely leaves bed cause they’re still too weak. There body has been under so much duress while his was under cryogenic stabilization. His body accepted him back easily, with no trouble, and V has to be pumped with medication to make their body not reject their very presence in it, intensively for the first couple months and then after enough progress they can go down on it. And Johnny takes up the role of playing caretaker, because he can’t after all of this just watch V suffer and do nothing about it. 

And Johnny, feels immense guilt, as he would in the AU as he does with any kind of suffering V endures because of the chip, because of Mikoshi, because of him. Not only does he blame himself, but there’s a sense fo survivors guilt in each scenario, because while V isn’t gone. They suffer while he’s fine and that just isn’t right; why should he be the one doing great and okay while V is actively hurting, when they did nothing wrong, they don’t deserve this. 

I also, agree wholeheartedly with your view of him as a caretaker and planned as much with it in mine, because Johnny is so fucking clumsy with it. Because he’s never had to be the responsible person is any situation. Depending on the person, anytime someone he knew sick came to him he’d either tell them not to be a pussy or offer to lay with them as a thinly veiled excuse to touch them and see if he could still get laid. (Alt wasn’t particular amused by that and yelled at him and Rogue saw it coming a mile away and told him to kick rocks)  

He feels so out of his element, he knows he wants to, needs to do this for V. But he’s overthinking everything and feels like he’s fucking up every second. He knows their favorite foods, favorite ramen, favorite dessert, favorite everything and he tries to get them for him. Because he, like you said, cannot fucking cook. He can’t make anything, boy burns water. And a part of him is second guessing even giving them their favorites, cause, ramen isn’t great for recovery is it? He can’t give them shitty buck-a-slice pizza when they’re still healing right? That’s bad...right? He doesn’t even know how to be healthy, how is he suppose to help keep V healthy? He might even try to outsource cooking to one of the Aldecaldos if they’re with the nomads or Mama Welles if they’re in the city (he considered for a second asking River to make jambalaya for them, but immediately decided no) but even that makes him feel bad, because then is he really the one taking care of them, but should he be that selfish, to prioritize his own ego in caring for them over them getting the best care? He can’t clean their living area worth shit; their tent or apartment space is messier than usual. If in the city, Kerry offers to pay for a maid service and Johnny refuses, because god damn it he shouldn’t be this incompetent. He has to take care of Nibbles for V a lot of the time and he’s never taken care of a cat before; he doesn’t know how to clean a litter box. He sometimes has to help V shower or bathe when its really bad and finds himself worrying about if he should be doing that, if they think he’s just being a pervert, if he should ask someone else (then remembers that someone else would see them naked and he doesn’t like that too much either and is that selfish?) He honestly has so much worry and anxiety when it comes to V. And while I think he’s always had a hidden level of self hatred and disgust with himself; the anxiety and doubtfulness is definitely a bit..new to him. He was always confident, assured, and determined; he hated himself, knew he was an asshole, but he was an asshole who’d get shit done or die trying, sacrifice every relationship he had for his goals and refused to think about the consequences because it was worth it. Now, he’s freaking out internally about whether or not he can make spaghetti for his favorite merc. 

Meanwhile V is just like, Johnny let me sleep on your chest as you hum samurai songs and I’ll be happy. 

V: Look, I made Johnny a better person!

Kerry: You fucked up a perfectly good rockerboy is what you did, he’s got anxiety!

[adammilligan]

so i’m about to go on a long rant about psychology because i was reading about the effects of loneliness on children + the effects of isolation on people, and i think this is something that can easily connect back to adam.

ADAM: You see, it was me and it was my mom. That's it. She worked the graveyard shift at the hospital. I cooked my own dinners. I put myself to bed.

based on the fact that adam uses the words “i put myself to bed” i think we can assume that he’d been doing it himself since he was a child, because teenagers normally are the ones to put themselves to bed but a parent is typically the one to put a child to bed. since kate was constantly working the graveyard shift, you essentially have a little kid that’s extremely used to a dark, empty house (think about kids and, let’s say, the kind of nightmares they experience—if adam had suffered nightmares, there would only be himself to turn to at night for comfort), which is where the loneliness factor kicks in—children with parents that are generally absent (whether the absence is caused by a need to work or by just not being involved in the child’s life) have a tendency to grow up more anxious and stressed, as well as being more likely to indulge in imaginary friends and suffer feelings of alienation (additionally, children living in absent houses have also been noted to be more likely to engage in unhealthy activity (drugs, drinking, etc), but this is largely the result of the influence from their peers. good friend group = better habits, bad friend group = worse habits. given that adam’s grades didn’t suffer + he became an eagle scout + he was pre-med biology at university, it’s pretty safe to place him in the “good friend group” pile). my point is, adam was very used to being on his own. he was most likely able to better cherish the time spent with his mother than most kids his age when she wasn’t working because he knew what loneliness felt like and it probably made him more receptive to people in general—i.e. having a greater degree of empathy, kindness, etc., especially since i’m sure kate encouraged these traits in him. she was probably the one who put aside money for and encouraged him to join the boy scouts in the first place; to promote more social interaction, maybe? 

now, to go on to adam’s time in the cage: i’m wondering if adam’s exposure to loneliness from the time he was little might’ve worked to his advantage in the early years, before he and michael struck up a friendship with each other. this advantage would only last so long, since i’m assuming he was residing in near-complete isolation versus when he was on earth and could look forward to going to school and seeing his mother when he got home, and near-complete isolation quickly leaves detrimental effects on the human mind, including hypersensitivity to external stimuli, hallucinations, panic attacks, paranoia, loss of impulse control, memory deficiencies and more. i’m assuming that it’s impossible to sleep in the cage, too, seeing as it’s outside of the scape of what is perceived as “normal” by the human body and probably exists in a dimension where things are constantly at a standstill (does that make sense? think like how vessels don’t age when angels are inside of them, i think that describes it better). so his temporary advantage isn’t there for long, because it’s a prison that he literally couldn’t escape from. the symptoms above probably drove him to near-insanity and if i had to make a guess i think that he probably would’ve been the one to first reach out to michael in a desperate attempt for any sort of companionship as a result of the lack of impulse control that develops over time (obviously, archangels don’t experience things the same way humans do, but given that lucifer was scared of being trapped again + gabriel’s behavior after being freed from asmodeus i think it’s pretty safe to assume that similar symptoms do develop in them, which is probably what led michael to accept adam’s offer of a tentative friendship).

it’s a bit hard to imagine if you’ve never experienced any sort of solitary confinement before, but when adam says that they were all they had, they were literally all they had. it was sticking together and learning to be friends with someone from a wildly different species or dealing with a constant overflow of paranoia and hallucinations and hysteria from themselves. what’s even more up in the air is the amount of damage inflicted on their mentalities before they turned to each other for help. they could've both broken, at least somewhat, and then rebuilt themselves from the ground up. they grew and learned from each other, something evident in the quiet, angry way adam stared at lilith like he'd never done to anyone before and the way that michael was relatively calmer, more grounded, and less likely to lash out.

i know it's more...i don't know, fun to people, i guess? to believe that michael was the sole reason that adam turned out alright, because he protected him, or whatever. but the truth is that they both protected each other, in their own ways. even if michael "protected" adam from hell, even if he altered the perception of time in adam's mind or whatever theories i've seen get passed around (mostly to try and paint adam out to be someone who "had it easier" which is just rooted in the sentiment of people trying to paint the winchesters in a better light), there is no denying the fact that confinement is confinement and will ultimately have severe effects on those who are social creatures. there is no "protection" from the reality that one has been abandoned and left to rot in a box for seemingly eternity. there is no "protection" from the fact that there was no one down there but themselves and lucifer, who probably doesn't even count because adam was never once mentioned by him during any chance he had to gloat. really, the only thing that michael could protect adam from down there was lucifer. the rest was up to them. given the fact that their relationship has been shown to be one where they consider each other as equals, it's very hard to believe that michael was the only one doing any sort of "protecting" especially since if that were the case, michael never would've been so open to listening to adam's words in the bunker⁠—adam would've been treated as less of a friend and more of a pet, which isn't the case. if michael was protecting adam from lucifer, then adam was protecting michael from fear and distress and mental instability. they didn't just have one or the other, they had each other.

i'm sort of just rambling on at this point (if you made it this far, congrats! lmao), but i think one of the points i'm trying to make is that adam was already accustomed to loneliness (at least a little bit) and dealing with that loneliness long before he went in the cage, ever since he was a kid, which might just be one of the reasons he came out of it as okay as he did. he might've taken little techniques he used to make himself calm down when he was a kid and altered them to fit the cage, using them as well as he could and for as long as he could before it proved to be too much. given that adam grew up fairly independent, it must've taken quite a bit of time before he reached out to michael (whether that be from pride or stubbornness, who knows). he adapted to the shitty environment he was in and, eventually, he made the best of it. the amount of changes that must've been made to his body (constantly dealing with the pressure of a foreign, unearthly place + having a giant battery inhabiting his body) and his mind (having been under an enormous amount of stress and anxiety and probably depression from being confined) must be absolutely unreal. but he made it out. he proved himself to be of the ability to adapt and change, even under extreme duress (in the archaic meaning of the word, lol).

it's just super interesting to think about, in my opinion, and adam is a super cool character, especially when being able to survive like that and still being able come out of it with a goddamn heart of gold.

[paramounticebound]

“plots please” - for any of our pairings??

⤏ send me “plots please” … || @titanlights || accepting, but slow af.

-cracks knuckles- Here we gooo!

Note: I included a few for Jay in this even though I do know they are at their own blog now.

Kanya 1:  Alrighty, this is based in my default Star Wars verse. Khan is tired of the First Order because they want to wrangle him into their cause. He’s not down, not even a little, but then he finds out that they’re on to his goal: to find the Infinite Engine (which, in short, can grow resources out of energy. In theory, given enough time, it could create entire planets, star systems, galaxies). There are so many way they could use it, but more importantly, it would make his goals impossible. So they’re after him and he hides out on Wobani. Despite wanting to lay low, he either gets dragged into something or his rage clouds his judgement, but either way he ends up aiding Kanya’s colony—be it with a trade deal (with FO dealings where he isn’t recognized/is disguised) or straight up joins in a battle to defend the colony. The more time Kanya and Khan spend together, the more they begin to foster a connection. Khan could also help her, post FO defeat, to find the voice calling her (bonus points if that leads to the Infinite Engine somehow too).

Kanya 2: (based on the dynamics meme I sent you ages ago: one muse is supposed to hurt/kill the other but falls for them instead [so combine this with enemies to lovers]) Based on my second Star Wars verse, or “First Order sympathetic” Khan is sent to take out the Mandalorian Kanya because she’s causing trouble. Something goes wrong, possibly a forced to work together situation, or Khan realizes that the FO is going to dispose of him and his frozen compatriots despite their promises otherwise. Khan hates the FO anyway, but they had offered resources he couldn’t refuse. He’s really in a bind— if he doesn’t do this, there are very dire consequences-- it’s less about his own life, but his brethren are in danger. So this could start out really rocky but it could end up happier. Or really sad. Maybe there aren’t any happy endings, but no matter what, he doesn’t end go through with the assassination attempt.

Jia: Going a bit off of the found family dynamic from the aforementioned meme. As we know, both Jia and Khan have similar upbringings with HYDRA. Perhaps they bonded under duress, maybe it starts as a rivalry, but they both aren’t fans of their situation. Unlike Jia, however, Khan isn’t able to get out as easily. He does break out but is of course hunted. Either by chance or intentionally, he finds Jia again (bonus angst points if they were close before she got out, like siblings essentially, and there’s some misplaced tension and blame that he didn’t).

Jia (continued): Alternatively, they didn’t know each other beforehand, but meet after they’re both out. Perhaps Jia is employed to investigate Khan and they find out their similar upbringing that way. Bonus: Creeping through your wishlist tag and I recall seeing a post about Jia wanting her partner to dress up in lolita fashion with her. Even though he wouldn’t be a romantic partner, I’m cackling at the idea of Khan doing it for her or for an undercover thing or something and hating it the entire time.

Jay 1: I’m still all for the bodyguard plot. In Khan’s modern verses, he could definitely be a for-hire protector. Especially if it’s early on in the modern 3 verse, before he rises the ranks. Edit: This could definitely work for the plots you posted as well, with a road trip to a safe house!

Jay 2: I saw in your wishlist tag you wanted some royalty au’s for Jay. There are two in particular from here: “The Guardian - Muse A is a princex and heir to the throne and Muse B is the commander of their guards. Muse A needs to leave for a long trip and Muse B needs to keep them safe during the journey. The problem is, they discover a plot against Muse A’s life. Will they manage to keep them safe?” Okay but princex Jay and guard Khan and evil mage Elias??? 

and (Jay 2 continued): “The Siege - The country is at war and the capitol is under siege. Muse A is the last living royal descent, Muse B is their faithful soldier. Muse B needs to get Muse A out of the city and back to their regrouping troops so they can take the country back.” Same as above pretty much, I just want protector!Khan and to possibly have him punch Elias in the face whoops

Jay 3: For a fantasy-inspired plot, I toss álfr!Khan at Jay. He’s usually hanging around others that have lost a loved one and said loved one needs to get a message across, though he can also be motivated to help those who have been through a lot of trauma.

Jay 4: This is a tiny thing, but Jay and Khan could definitely be antagonistic in the Star Wars universe. Just going from Jay’s SW verse title, I’m assuming they’re a Mando. So I’m thinking maybe Khan is trying to lay low from the First Order in his default verse, winds up wherever Jay is, and just causes havoc either because he can or because there’s something they have that he could use, etc.

Jay (bonus): Unrelated to Khan, but I have an OC on my multi (@deficd) named Hilda, who is also disabled. She is based in the Vikings/historical era, but I’ve been wanting to create other verses for her, so if you’re ever interested in writing with her, let me know!

Elias: This really just ties into Jay, but I can really only see them interacting as rivals/enemies when Khan is in the position of being Jay’s bodyguard. So if we assume that, then anything... stand-offs, foiling plans, all of the above.

Persephone 1: Okay, this is straight up from your wishlist tag as well. “ok but an immortal couple who break up and get back together every thirty years or so, and they’re messy as fuck, like every couple decades they break up and swear that they’ll never speak for the rest of eternity, until inevitably one tracks the other down and shows up like “okay, i’ve elected to forgive you, we’re together again” and the other is like “BUT WHO SAYS I FORGIVE YOU FOR THE AL CAPONE INCIDENT” and then they’re arguing/making out and meanwhile the rest of the immortal community just groans and rolls their eyes because jesus christ, this again, they have been doing this since the holy roman empire.” Okay but I do have two verse for Khan wherein he’s basically immortal: as an álfr, cast from Alfheim and doomed to wander the earth, and Cthulhu mythos/cult leader Khan. The latter can be tweaked so he’s less about his cult now that he recognizes the existence of other deities (i.e. Persephone) but retains his gifted immortality. 

Persephone 2: Either following the events of Star Trek: Into Darkness or omitting it entirely, Khan is on the run from Starfleet and badly injured. He manages to hide out on earth, and meets Persephone, who heals him. I can’t imagine she would be okay with his actions (if he had, indeed, crashed a whole ass starship into a building) but can sympathize with his pain. Or, if he’d only escaped without the carnage, it’d be easier to feel for him. 

Straight outta your wishlist: “—muse a is a fallen angel exiled from heaven for falling in love with their human. they wake up outside a club with their memory wiped and the wings ripped from their back. the club run is by muse b, and is actually a sanctuary for other supernatural creatures in need. muse a stays to heal, and gets wrapped in muse b’s world—both of them having to deal with the things they’re running away from.” I don’t know which of your muses you’d feel could fit into this, but I’m open to any of them. Even better, this doesn’t have to be a shippy thing, both of our muses could just help each other heal from their trauma-- or make everything worse. 

Straight outta your wishlist 2: Okay but this plot is fire and again, I don’t know which muse you’d chose for it, but I’m all for it!

[theregoesmylurkerstatus]

Essek meta: the monster post

(Beware, long post incoming)

I’ve been sitting on my thoughts on Essek for days, and pretty much all my asks have been on the subject. I decided that instead of answering them all, I’d do my best to gather all my thoughts and reasoning into one post.

At this stage, there’s no solid evidence for or against Essek’s goals and morals being opposed to the Mighty Nein’s. Circumstantial evidence, yes. He’s been very accomodating, but not necessarily suspiciously so. There have been small hints that maybe he’d rather do things the Mighty Nein’s way, not the Bright Queen’s.

And I will say this: prior to this episode, even good insight checks apparently revealed nothing alarming about Essek or his motives. They didn’t entirely absolve him of suspicion, but neither did they create more.

In fact, the main cause for concern this episode was that Essek’s behaviour seems to have changed. Nott says he was acting “funky,” which implies she was using her previous experience with him as a basis for comparison. She goes on to equivocate with “we haven’t seen him in a while...”

However (and this is going to be a bit controversial), I think people are being a bit wilfully blind in regards to Essek. Many, many metas pointing out that Essek may just be at the end of his rope, tired, and wanting someone to rely on (while hoping that he can do so on the Mighty Nein).

They’re all good, solid theories, and I hope that they’re true! But but in the end there are factors I’ve notice that make me reluctant to buy into it wholesale.

Nott asked Caleb to scry on Adeen, not Essek. If she was concerned about Essek in general, wouldn’t she ask to check in on him? Sure, you can say “Essek is a powerful wizard, he’s probably protected,” but you could say the same of a max security prisoner who’s being actively watched over. Caleb literally only turned the idea down because of that. Hell, even Nott knew that! She starts with, “would it be a terrible idea...” when she pitches scrying on Adeen. And yet, she suggested it anyway.

Nott must have thought there would be something to gain by looking at Adeen, which means this isn’t just about Essek’s demeanor. It’s about his relationship to Adeen specifically. She says, “Something about the way that he was behaving when we were at that prison was funny to me.”

It’s not just Essek being overworked or tired in general. It’s Essek on this specific matter. And no matter how drunk or silly Nott can be, she’s not stupid. She’s fucking smart. She was the second smartest member of the party until Beau got the circlet. Nott rarely brings up genuine, serious concerns, and she treated this with nervous gravity.

Obviously the players can misinterpret what they get from whispers, but I don’t think Matt leaves it so open to interpretation that Nott could notice things that point to simple (if extreme) stress and misinterpret it as Essek being shady.

Consider this, too: in the conversation leading up to Fjord’s “interrogation” of Adeen, Essek insists multiple times that they used various means to force the truth from Adeen, and that while Adeen initially insisted he had no idea what was going on (as any traitor would), “we managed to excise the truth, and the Taskhand has, ah, given his hand, if you will.”

And yet as soon as Fjord goes in there, Adeen displays confusion, distress, and readily admits that he has no idea what’s going on while confessing he does think he did things (that he also insists he would never do). How the hell would Essek & Co have missed that?

I suppose you could say that Adeen may have been answering pointed questions during interrogation, and they would have ignored any “I don’t know” type answers, but still. It’s a pretty big fucking thing to miss.

Essek didn’t immediately go to the Bright Queen with the information on Adeen, but he clearly intended to speak with her soon, and only put it off to see the Mighty Nein first. When the Nein propose that all of them go to see the Bright Queen together, Essek is enthusiastic, and prompts for them to go immediately, only waiting when the Nein express an interest in Adeen. He is again the one to prompt a meeting with the Bright Queen after returning from checking Adeen for a mark.

So, in my eyes, his decision to go to meet the Nein briefly before seeing the Bright Queen was not a reflection of his hesitancy to implicate or even condemn Adeen to the Bright Queen, but rather came from the knowledge that the Nein would have important and relevant information. As he said, he didn’t want to give information to the Bright Queen “piecemeal.” He’d rather wait and give her a full report. Waiting to see what the Nein had to offer fits in perfectly with that attitude.

Essek is very, very good at being non-defensive, rational, reasonable, and even agreeable. He listens to the Nein when they start theorising about Adeen possibly being under magical influence. He agrees to the points they make. He readily entertains their notions... without pushing any of them any further, and without putting forward HIS thoughts on the matter.

I don’t believe he was reluctant to throw Adeen under the bus. He didn’t bring up the mind control theory to the Bright Queen at all. Jester literally says, “I thought Essek would...” before launching into her “Adeen may not be guilty” pitch.

Nott’s insight was instigated on Essek’s return from checking Adeen for a mark,  though she clearly got insight as to his behaviour earlier in the prison as well. That may imply that Essek was not completely honest about his search of Adeen for evidence of mind control. 

Clearly, the mind control theory isn’t one Essek was personally enthused about.

Possibly relevantly, an anon pointed out:

Rewatching the scene, anon is right. Yes, technically Adeen is banging his head against the wall, but he doesn't knock himself out. He “exhales” and starts snoring. And remember, Matt ruled that a creature willingly banging their own head against something wasn’t enough to fall unconscious. So... Adeen fell asleep? In the middle of a distressed, high emotion downward spiral? With Essek, a highly adept wizard, waiting and watching in the shadows? Hm. Could be innocent. It’s perfectly understandable that someone who’s been through as much mental, emotional, and physical duress as Adeen has would be exhausted. But in light of everything else I’m trying to unpack here, I though it was worth noting.

All of the suspicion of Essek is wrapped up with Adeen, and other relevant factors point to him not especially wanting Adeen to be absolved of guilt. This could mean many things: he’s the traitor, he has it out for Adeen specifically, he’s hiding some information he discovered relevant to Adeen, he just wants the search for the traitor to be over with. Who knows? But I certainly don’t believe Nott was simply observing high stress from his job.

In the end, the real evidence against Essek's guilt, to any degree, is his personality. Critters like him. The Nein like him. He’s been a helpful ally who everyone seems to fall head over heels for without Essek trying for that kind of reception (see Matt’s confusion at him being instantly labeled “hot boi”). People are eager to look to his personality, his current position, and give him sympathetic internal reasoning that is pure supposition.

Again, it’s good supposition! They’re good theories! But I don’t think you can discount or sweep under the rug the causes for concern so easily.

To be quite frank, we still have no solid evidence against Essek being the/a traitor, while we HAVE been given cause to doubt his complete innocence. The fandom bias towards him especially makes me a bit reluctant to accept the lenient answer straight off the bat. 

I think that there’s something more going on with him. I’m also not convinced he’s a traitor, especially not long term. There’s simply not enough for me to go off of in making up my mind. But I felt it was necessary to point out that the concern about Essek in this instance has real merit, and I wasn’t really seeing that brought up and discussed. 

So... here you go, I guess?

[simplyshelbs16xoxo]

Baby Fever

Takes place three glorious years after the iconic ILY scene. Sherlock Holmes, now married to Molly, contracts baby fever after a day of watching Rosie. He then leaves 'subtle' hints to catch his wife's attention, but it just comes off as strange behaviour. 

FFN | Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?

@sherlolly-ily-fest

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“Now a new study in the psychological journal, Emotion, claims that “baby fever”—that sudden, visceral, and almost irresistible urge to have a baby—not only exists, but it can be found in both men and women.”

-Diane Mapes, NBC News, August 2011

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Three years. It had been three blissful—sometimes frustrating—years since the Sherrinford incident. Sherlock Holmes had married Molly Hooper two and a half years ago, and he still marveled at the fact she was his wife. He often wondered how he managed to not muck everything up. Lately, though, he felt as if something was missing, but he couldn’t quite place what it was. It wasn’t until a lazy Sunday afternoon that he figured it out. It was a rare day when Molly had the day off and he had no (interesting) cases. John had asked if they’d watch Rosie for a bit, which they happily agreed to. It had been a while since they were able to spend time with her together rather than separately.

“Unca Wock!” Rosie wriggled to be free from John’s hold. When he didn’t release her immediately, she glared at him. “Daddy, put me down.”

Sherlock was clearly holding back his laughter, an amused smile gracing his face. As soon as her feet touched the ground, Rosie ran toward him with her arms open, and he knelt on the ground to receive one of her hugs that she loved to give so much. She got that from Molly, he mused, realising just how much impact they all had on her upbringing. Speaking of Molly, she had appeared from within the bathroom after having taken a shower. She was in an old faded tee shirt and a pair of worn jeans, and left down her hair, which was curling from the dampness.

Rosie’s attention turned toward her godmother, whose face lit up at the sight of her. “Aunt Mowwy!”

“My darling Rosie!” Molly exclaimed, meeting her goddaughter halfway for a hug. “You get bigger every time I see you!”

“I’m a big girl!” Rosie proclaimed proudly.

Molly laughed sweetly, the sound music to Sherlock’s ears.

John observed his friend, realising that the wheels were turning in his mind. The detective looked puzzled as he watched his wife interact with their goddaughter. Then suddenly, everything clicked, his face softening from the epiphany. It was easy for John to figure out what was happening, as this was a very human reaction to the scene before them. Sherlock Holmes wanted to have a child of his own with Molly.

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Sherlock wanted children…badly. He hadn’t a clue how he contracted baby fever. Thoughts of starting a family with Molly plagued him ever since the day they watched Rosie. That was two weeks ago. Everything had been going spectacularly well between them. Sure, they had a few bumps and bruises that the Sherrinford incident caused, but it was nothing they couldn’t overcome.

He had thought of several ways to bring up the topic to his wife, but each time he tried, nothing came out. Did Molly even want children? She certainly never indicated it. Today, he decided, he would tell her, no holding back.

“Hello Molly,” Sherlock greeted her cheerfully as he entered the morgue. She had just finished an autopsy. Her eyes lit up when she heard his voice.

“Hello to you too! You’re suspiciously chipper today,” she remarked whilst she dried her hands. Upon turning around to face him, she noticed the small bouquet of vibrant blue cornflowers in his hand. “Are those for me?”

“These?” Sherlock asked. “No, I just carry them around for aroma therapy…but if you want them…” He held out the flowers to her. He wondered if she would notice the significance; cornflowers signified fertility.

She laughed, taking the offered bouquet. There wasn’t a vase nearby, so she cut the stems at an angle, and slipped them inside a clean graduated cylinder. “Are you on a case?”

“No, I just, um—well, I suppose you could call it that,” Sherlock stammered. The words were not coming easily. “I wanted to…talk to you, actually.”

Molly looked at him curiously. “What about?”

This was it. All he’d have to do is tell her; it was that simple. “Well, I was wondering how—“ Uh oh. The words were lost on him. “How you’re doing on that essay…for that supposed prestigious medical journal?” Oh God, this was bad.

Molly laid a hand on his arm in concern. “Sherlock, I finished that last month. It was in this month’s issue. Are you feeling okay?” He looked a bit woozy. She knew that wasn’t what he was going to ask, but whatever it was, he was obviously nervous about it. He’d ask when he was properly ready, she decided. “Maybe you should go have a lie down.”

Sherlock silently agreed, hopping up on the freshly clean autopsy table. A sigh escaped Molly’s lips. She’d have to clean that again once he got up. His little eccentricities made her adore him all the more. If having to disinfect the autopsy table again was the price for her husband’s strange behaviours, it was one she was willing to pay.  

.

.

“Sherlock,” John spoke firmly, “why don’t you just tell her, mate?”

He sighed. “Don’t you think I’ve tried to?” He ran a hand through his curls in frustration. “Every time I try to tell her, nothing comes out. I become speechless.”

John puzzled at this. “So you’re, what? Just gonna keep making a spectacle of yourself?”

Sherlock thought for a moment. “Quite possibly, yes.” An idea dawned on him. “Our anniversary’s coming up.”

“Sherlock, your wedding anniversary isn’t until September,” John pointed out. “It’s only January.”

“Exactly,” Sherlock remarked. “In three days, it will be the anniversary of when I told Molly I loved her and vice versa.”

“But that was under duress!” John argued.

“It doesn’t mean I meant it any less,” Sherlock retorted. “Instead of telling her, I’ll just show her.”

John shook his head in dismay. Molly was going to have her hands full.

.

.

Molly Holmes was beginning to worry about her husband. Each week since his visit in the morgue, she had come home to find some interesting items lying about the flat. Just last week, she had caught Sherlock reading through a collection of brand new Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys novels. The week before that, she had found a couple of baby toys.

“It’s for a case,” he had told her.

Now, however, it was their three year anniversary since the phone call, and she wondered what she would discover. If nothing, then the night was sure to be another unforgettable one. On the nights they made love, Sherlock was exceptionally even more passionate than usual, which was sometimes overwhelming for Molly, but in the best way. She could practically feel the aches at the thought of it. Was he trying to make up for something he felt he did wrong? He had been acting stranger than usual—if only she could pinpoint when it began.

 Upon entering the flat, Molly’s eyes landed upon a bag on the desk. She only had a moment to peek inside before Sherlock appeared before her. “Sherlock, why is there lingerie in here?”

His face blanched. Okay, he had to tell her. The words came out perfectly in his head.

“Well, you see, Molly, I’m only preparing you for the next step in our relationship. What I mean to say is, Molly, darling, I want us to have a baby.”

Simple, right? Sherlock opened his mouth, but the words he had planned did not come out. “I’m having an affair.”

Molly snorted in amusement. “No, you’re not.” If there was one thing she knew for a fact, it was that Sherlock Holmes was not the adulterous type.

Sherlock shrugged. “It was worth a try.”

“What is going with you, Sherlock?” she asked, her voice soft. It wasn’t until she listed the incidents that it hit her. “The children’s books, the baby toys, and the”—Molly lifted the scrap of cloth from within the bag—“maternity lingerie?”

“And the flowers that signified fertility,” he added.

Molly raised an eyebrow at him. Her face softened as she put it all together. “Sherlock.” She took his hand in hers. “What were you going to ask me that day in the morgue? Tell me.”

Sherlock took a deep breath. “I was wondering how you felt about having children,” he finally admitted. “Ever since that Sunday with you and Rosie, I’ve been wanting—no—needing a baby of our own. A family of our own.”

               Molly bit at her lip as she smiled. “Oh, you silly man,” she laughed. “Of course, I want a family with you…I just didn’t think it was something you wanted.”

               Sherlock pulled her close, his lips pressing fervently against hers. “This is what I want,” he murmured in between kisses. “I want you—I need—“

               She never found out what he needed, guiding him backwards toward their bedroom. Molly could hardly wait until no barrier existed between them. Regardless of how long they’d been together, they never tired of one another. Clothes were quickly shed, love was made so gently, yet fiercely. There was most likely no chance with the first real try, but oh, it would be fun to try again. And again. And again.

               Hours later, a clatter awoke Molly from her slumber. Sherlock mumbled to not worry about it, but she planned to investigate. She threw on his blue dressing gown. It sounded as if it came from the upstairs bedroom. Molly climbed the stairs cautiously, and upon reaching the door, quietly turned the knob.

               She gasped at the sight. In a pile in the middle of the room were parts of a crib. Sherlock had tried to put it together, but something must have been missing since it fell into a heap. “I love you,” she whispered, her heart soaring.

               Sherlock wrapped his arms around her from behind, startling her at first. “I love you too, Molly.” He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, lingering there as he spoke again. “Happy Anniversary.”

.

.

Three Months Later

               Sherlock Holmes walked into the morgue, ready to attend the autopsy that Molly was performing on the newest interesting murder victim. His lips automatically turned up into a smile, ready to greet her. “Molly, I may have a theory about—“ Sherlock staggered back. “You’re not Molly.”

               “Oh, no, sorry,” the assistant pathologist—Dave? Daniel?—replied. “She didn’t come in today; called in sick. Shouldn’t you have known that though? Being her husband and all.”

               “I’ve been out all morning.” Sherlock handed him a card. “Text me if you find anything worthwhile.” He left the morgue, making his way through the hospital corridors when Greg stopped him.

               “Sherlock, aren’t you staying for the autopsy?” he asked.

               “Molly’s not here—called in sick. I’m heading home to see if she’s alright,” Sherlock explained. “I’ll come back if there’s anything worth coming back for.”

.

.

               Molly stared at the two pink lines on the pregnancy test. After a rather rough round of morning sickness, she called in sick for the day, still not feeling one hundred percent well. She was absolutely over the moon, though! And Sherlock—he would be ecstatic over the news! Molly couldn’t wait to tell him. She had considered leaving hints, but remembered how well that went when Sherlock tried to give her hints.

               When her husband finally came through the door, he looked concerned when he spotted her on the sofa. “Molly, are you alright? What are your symptoms? How severe is it? Have you—“

               “Sherlock, I’m fine,” Molly smiled sweetly. He tended to go overboard whenever she was sick, and though it was smothering at times, she loved it. “Come here, my love.”

               He walked over, sitting down beside her, taking her hands in his. “What is it, Molly?”

               She said nothing, but instead, guided one of his hands to her belly. “I’m pregnant, Sherlock.” His face morphed from one of concern to one of utter joy.

               “You’re—“

               She nodded.

               “We’re—“

               “Yes,” she reassured him.

               His lips claimed hers in such sweet devotion, his hands cradling her waist gently. He dipped her backwards slowly as their kisses grew fervent. Sherlock eventually trailed his lips along her jaw and down her neck, burying his face in the crook of it, the scent of her cherry vanilla shampoo overwhelming his senses. “Molly,” he breathed out. “Oh, Molly. I love you.”

               “And I love you, Sherlock,” she told him softly, her fingers buried in his curls. “Always.”

[battlestar-royco]

let’s talk about tropes

here’s a little (little?!) post on tropes, as promised!

some tropes i hate and why i hate them

love triangles: this one’s pretty simple and obvious. love triangles are unrealistic and toxic. they romanticize emotional cheating, and they cause nasty ship wars in fandoms, especially when two of the points in the triangle are women. often, the “losing” point of the triangle is a one-dimensional throwaway character who either gets killed off or accepts their fate and steps back for the “winner” to take over. this dynamic can get especially problematic when the “loser” is a woc and the “winner” is white, when the “loser” is an lgbtq+ character, and/or when the “loser” has no purpose other than to create drama for two other fleshed out characters. the character often ends up being hated for bad writing and “getting in the way” of the endgame ship. yikes. the only valid resolution to love triangles, imo, is a polyamorous relationship!!!

girl hate: it’s rare to see nice friendships and romances between women, and often this trope is used to drive an unnecessary wedge between two female characters who would have otherwise been great friends. i don’t mind when two women/girls are in conflict with one another for an interesting reason, but i absolutely hate when the conflict is based on something stereotypical and boring. the “girl hate” conflict is always based on something misogynistic, unrealistic, and/or stupid--like a man, looks, sexual practices, or a contrived competition. this is especially gross when the men in the story act as the voices of reason in the conflict, patronizing the women and teaching them how to be nice and use logic.

“strong female characters”: many writers mistake “strong” characters for characters who employ violence, sassiness, and masculine attributes to get what they want. I’m so over it. all I want is nuanced representation of women that doesn’t reduce them to a love interest or a sex object who looks down on other women. strength comes in many forms, and everyone defines it and identifies with it differently.

miscommunication: this has to be one of the laziest forms of prolonging drama, when two characters are fighting because of something that could easily be solved if they were locked in a room together for five minutes.

incest/incest-adjacent romances: this should go without saying, but we’re for some god-awful reason going through a period where incestuous relationships/fake-outs (ie, you’re in love with him? too bad he’s your brother. oh wait, it’s revealed that he’s not!/you two are blood related but you either never met or you went through a period of separation, so that means you can fall in love) are heavily romanticized or used to create extra drama, and it’s just unnecessary and not cute. i think authors use this to add some sort of edge or uniqueness to their writing, but it’s just so toxic and a complete turn-off for me.

aesthetic oppression: (term inspired by and similar to “aesthetic conflict,” thanks kat) when an author throws in some sort of oppression that is experienced by people in real life, but they either don’t address the oppression thoroughly or they only use it to add some sort of edge to their story and further a character’s romance, death, redemption arc, etc. for example, the homophobia in GOT season 6, which reduced loras to a walking stereotype of a gay man before he was subjugated by the church sept and blown up, and the patriarchy in ACOTAR that only exists to show how feminist rhysand is.

boys/men fighting, having tantrums, or expressing themselves through violence: it’s fine for male characters to fight every once in a while, but i just hate that this seems to be exclusively employed with male characters and it is used as a solution or reaction to problems when realistically, men are much more nuanced. men cry. they might be alone or in front of others. they might cry into their pillow or on a friend’s shoulder. fictional men add violence and anger to their sadness because the authors don’t want to emasculate them, but that’s a stupid goal and crying doesn’t affect someone’s gender. smashing your belongings when you are upset is unhealthy and potentially dangerous, and so is physically fighting others over trivial or patriarchal issues (ie a woman) when conversation could be/is probably much more compelling and effective. it’s important to show men that anger isn’t always the first emotion to feel under duress and that they don’t have to express their feelings by punching walls or throwing their belongings across the room. (also?! practically? YOU’RE RUINING YOUR OWN FUCKING STUFF AND/OR YOUR ROOMMATE/FRIEND/PARTNER’S STUFF, YOU ASSHOLE.)

sexy immortals: immortality can be used in clever and entertaining ways, but i feel like a lot of the immortals i’ve been seeing lately run in the same vein as the twilight vampires, which is to say: unearthly beautiful (aka conventionally attractive), overly sexy (aka stalking a love interest for the sake of “attraction”), apparently 16-25 years old (aka accessible to grown women who read/write ya).

uninvolved parents or non-existent guardian figures: sometimes young characters don’t have parents and that’s fine; some of my favorite books are about characters with one parent or no parents. but i still feel like we’re coming out of a period where it was very popular to kill off the parents (especially moms) at the beginning or before the story starts. i really want to see more exploration of characters with parents, or at least see the characters without parents make significant relationships with adults or react appropriately to the loss of their parents.

one-off character deaths: when a character enters one chapter or episode of a book/show just to immediately die for cheap emotional manipulation. this character is also sooooo often a marginalized person, and it’s super predictable and tired. try harder, author/screenwriter!

some tropes i love and why i love them

special snowflake/chosen one: I can’t explain it. I know it’s so cliche and one of the most hated ones out there, but I love when this trope is done right. I’m not a big fan of the chosen ones who have a special destiny, especially if the mc is a white boy, because that’s been done a million times before. but I’m a sucker for that one character who comes upon an unexpected special ability/object/creature or connection to a force of good/evil/nature and has to contend with that. They’ve been Chosen and they’re completely unprepared, and it’s gonna change their life trajectory and relationships and maybe even political climate.

woobies!!!: I feel like this trope is so underrated and it’s one of my favorites of all time. I absolutely love rooting for that one character who’s too good for any of the shit they’ve been through and Deserves Better^TM, but they manage to survive and grow against all odds.

found family: i love that authors are expanding the concept of family and unconventional narratives about love. the found family trope is so charming and relatable to many readers, and it’s great to see seemingly contrary characters come together to find a loving home together that isn’t necessarily romantic.

soft characters: it’s rare (though increasingly less rare, fortunately) to find soft boys, aka male characters who are compassionate, funny, kind, pensive, and/or quiet instead of brash, loud, violent, and angry. i know so many boys and men who fall all along the spectrum of masculinity, and it would be great to see more characters who represent that, especially because male characters are typically forced to express their masculinity in one way. i also absolutely love seeing women being equally as soft and kind--with the exception of ASOIAF!sansa, i feel like this kind of character has been cast aside for the sassy, rebellious, empowered^TM female character who isn’t like other girls and wields a bunch of weapons. i’d really like to see more female characters whose strengths come from empathy, intelligence, and emotion.

unique relationships within a friend group/ensemble: this one is marginally related to my love of found families. not only do i really like tight, strong friend groups, but i also like when each of the friends within that group has a different and compelling dynamic (hostile, romantic, friendly, tragic, whatever may have you) that can carry a scene or an arc. unique relationships between all the characters in an ensemble adds so much dimensionality to a story.

complex guardian figures: this mostly applies to ya, but i think it can also be said for many adult books and tv shows. adult characters often get flattened or sidelined for romance or action plots when in reality almost everyone has parent/guardian relationships, and these relationships are the source of so much complexity. that complexity may mean love, found family, anger, patronization, manipulation, and more, and all these things will be expressed differently based on the characters in question. for example, look at the difference between eleven and hopper from stranger things and harry and dumbledore from harry potter. hopper and dumbledore are so different and each of them carry darkness and baggage that comes out on the kids for better and worse. bonus points if the guardian is a woman, because these types of relationships between girls and women are relatively rare to the ones between boys and men.

anti-heroes/anti-villains: i think this is another one that goes without explaining. we’re all the hero of our own story, after all. if an author can successfully convince me to root for a character who i know is wrong but believes they’re in the right, or for a character who does the wrong things for the right reasons, there’s a good chance that i think very highly of that author.

stoic, bitter, angry characters: if there’s one character in the ensemble who has any of these traits, there’s a good chance they’ll be my favorite, especially if that character is a woman. usually this character’s journey is about what makes them vulnerable and how they become close with the most unlikely companions or form a special relationship with a foil character. it makes the audience feel like we’re being let in on a secret, specifically about that character.

and that’s about it! my inbox is always open to talk more in depth about any of these and more, so let me know. thanks so much for 700, you all are great :D

[veridium]

20, 34, 45 :)

Anything for you, my binch! Thank you for asking. 

20 and 34 are already answered here and here. 

45. What’s the worst date you’ve ever been on?

Haha! Oh my goodness, I don’t think I keep track enough of them to have a definite worst one. I have to think about it...

Probably the one where I went out with a woman who was very nice, but was very clearly enamored with me to the point where I kinda felt like a pretty, perfect object (it wasn’t cruelly intended). During our date she was so nervous she was chain-smoking where we were sitting -- which was the terrace of a coffee shop. A man interrupted us to say I was beautiful, and then later came up to us to ask me if I was in school, only to say that men didn’t like sophisticated women, but “nice” women, or something. 

You know, while I’m a whole-ass lesbian, on a date with another lesbian. A lesbian date. Can’t make this shit up.

Anyways, the man ended up leaving and causing no further duress, thank goodness. The rest of the night went well, we walked around the German Village area and I tried my best to inject some whimsy into the dynamic but there was just no chemistry on my end. She was kind, it just wasn’t going to work out. I told her soon after the date that I could only be friends but she kept pressing me to go out and asking me sort of intrusive questions about my life, so I had to cut her off in the end. It was sad, but I’m someone who is very easily turned off by fawning, prying, and so on. And she was very clearly wanting something more which confused me, because I was like, did you just go on the same date I went on? It sucks when there’s a spark for someone that isn’t reciprocated. I’ve definitely been on the other side of that and it’s not fun. But still. 

This all might strike some people as vain, but, I have no qualms about saying I’m a really amazing person with a lot of accomplishments, skills, and shit going on, and sometimes when I meet/date people it’s like, all they can focus on or want to focus on, which can feel flattering at first. But that wears off very quickly. 

The tea was good, though. 

[eerythingisshaka]

Will the Bell Ring?  Pt. 5

[Erik Killmonger x Black OC]

Word Count 5.3k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

The speed in which Kimara peeled out of the parking lot of the Korean BBQ place gave any witness whiplash as she channeled her anger through the accelerator.  Kimara cursed out the air and any driver in her way as she rode around the streets of midtown.  It’s a damn miracle no cops were around to pull her over or they would’ve caught some serious heat from her their damn self.  Not long after running her fifth yellow light turning red, Kimara began to feel her tears well over profusely.  Her whole body shook as the sobs came more powerfully and she couldn’t control the car properly anymore.  

Pulling over, Kimara puts her car in park as she lays onto the wheel causing it to honk one time before she unloads her emotions completely.  This isn’t what she expected, which is an outcome that is actually more common throughout this fertility process than she’d care to look back on.  She’s exhausted with all the waiting and trying and disappointment, Kimara just wants an answer or some quick fix that’ll give her what she needs.

*knock knock*

Kimara jumps at the sharp sound on her passenger side window, breathing out with relief once she recognizes the kind face.

“T’Challa!  What are you doing here?”  She sniffles as he opens the door to sit inside looking at her with pity.

“It’s not so taboo to be here shopping around as it is to sit in a car and cry.” He quips.

Kimara chuckles gruffly before getting caught with a hiccup from her weeping.  “I don’t do this all the time, I swear.”

T’Challa studies your face appearing suspicious.  “Are you…”

She stares at him trying to catch on until she rolls her eyes.  “Not every emotional moment with a woman is attributable to hormones man, damn!  I’m not pregnant, not on my period.  I’m just dealing with fuckboy bullshit.”

T’Challa melts in his seat with embarrassment.  Just two minutes with her and he’s already regretting making his presence known.  “How are things with Erik?”

“Terrible.”  Kimara mutters.

“Elaborate.”

She wipes her face, crossing her arms.  “You know he can be such a damn idiot sometimes.”

“Specifically?”  T’Challa draws out.

Kimara tuts at him, throwing up her hands.  “I thought you didn’t want details on our shit.  TMI and whatever.”

“I want details on what is going on with you.  Good or bad.”  T’Challa says softly, waiting patiently for her response.  

Kimara drops her attitude, playing with her nails anxiously.  “I had a doctor’s appointment today with Erik.  Nothing’s wrong with him.”

“That is good, right?”  

She lays back on the headrest, looking out the window.  “It is, health is always good.  Just...what else could it be now?  I thought that would give me my answer.”

“Does Erik know you are here?”

Kimara shakes her head.  “I left him at a Korean spot.  He was picking up his car anyway but I was tired of him too.”

“Did you like that place?”  T’Challa voice rises an octave in anticipation.

She nods, smirking.  “It was very nice.  Erik told me you picked it.”  Kimara looks over at T’Challa.  “Thank you for having good taste.”

T’Challa smiles softly.  “It is not something one can learn, I told you.”

Kimara tuts at him before looking away wordlessly.

“But why are you crying alone from your husband?”

“I don’t know.  I’m regretting what I said, or at least how I said it.  But Erik started off blaming the doctor and not taking the positive notes she gave us.  The whole appointment it was like he was stewing, ready for a fight or something.  I don’t know what came over him then but he flipped out.”

“That may be his way of accepting the news himself.  He is probably just as over the process as you are.”  T’Challa says.

“I know, I know.  But it’s like...what does he know?  How can he come in here blaming anybody for this when he’s barely wanted to follow instructions on how to better our chances.  He flip flops so much, then there’s work.  I’ve seen him act like this before.  When he wants something, he goes for it.  But this?  He’s in a whole other world. And I’m this close to done, I cant take his childish behavior anymore.”

“Have you told him?”

“No, this just happened.”

“I mean from before.  Your shame: did you tell him?”

Kimara goes quiet.  That said everything.

“Kimara-”

“I know!  I should.  But this isn’t the time.  Not when we’re rocky like this.”

T’Challa grows impatient with her.  “It has to be now!  You are not over that time in life and if he does not know you are harboring, your emotional duress appears out of the blue.  He will feel attacked.”

“Well he should!  I gave up a huge part of me for him and I don’t know if he could do the same.  He hasn’t proven that yet!”  

T’Challa grabs Kimara’s hand.  “Give him a little credit for what he’s been through.  Look.  Until you talk with him this is all speculative.”

“Well I have a right.”

“Do not be stubborn.  Remember this situation before?  I knew where Erik was, but you were not ready to let go of your anger to let clarity come through.  You must seek him out on this, be truthful.  If you do not, I cannot see this ending well, Bast forbid.”

Kimara holds his hand tightly before resting in his shoulder.  “I remember...I get that.  I don’t wanna leave him like that.  He doesn’t deserve that if he doesn’t know.  I’ll...trust the process.”

T’challa nods.  “That sounds familiar.  So you were listening to me.  You are a special woman, I just hate to see you go through this without all of the facts being known on his side.  The only way I can comfort you is because I know everything.  Whether I like it or not.”

They chuckle a moment as they held it together quietly, grazing their knuckles in small circles with their thumbs.  Kimara remember a lot about those times when Erik recovered from his combat brainwashing, how much coaxing it took T’Challa to see him through a new lens.  T’Challa never let Kimara down.  His word is always his truth and she appreciated that.  She didn’t give it a serious thought until just now.

T’Challa kisses the top of her head with a small peck, making her look up at him with a faint smile.  His eyes draw her into the features of his face, different from Erik’s but just as handsome.  She felt a dip in the pit of her stomach as her eyes fell over the bow of his top lip-

*brrrring!  brrrrring!*

Kimara’s phone breaks the trance as she nearly hops out of herself to stop the maddening noise.

“Hey Erik?  Yeah, I’m just over by the shops on 48th?  I needed some...I know…..It’s ok, really.  We’ll talk when I get home, don’t worry.  I’ll be there soon.  Love you too.”

She hangs up, growing timid.  “Sooo if you’re good I’m gonna head home.  Talk to this boy about stuff.”

T’Challa has his elbow on the passenger window, balling his fist up but with a calm expression.  His face reads a multitude of words just hanging from the cliff of his mind but his jaw is too tight to speak them.

“T’Challa?”

He nods, snapping out of his mind to give a tight smile.  “Of course.  Drive safely.”

--

Erik’s been working with his team at Boeing for a few weeks now trying to get some ideas off the ground.  He prides himself on being a superstar of the company, earning them easily millions and it’s all lightwork for his IQ.  But they were turning more commercial driven, and that doesn’t vibe with him.  And now that he works with Bryan, being the son of his boss, his wings are nubs at this point.

“Listen.  We have competition out there that are able to carry more passengers on longer flights.  We gotta keep up or we will be left in the dust!”  Edward exclaims.

Erik rubs his eyes as he leans back in the conference room chair.  “I’m not going rounds with you over this.  That’s the last thing we need to be focusing on right now.”

“Profits?  Profitability is never last Erik, it scares me how often I have to remind you of that.”

“Hey guys?”  Bryan says.

Erik tunes him out.  “When profit hunting cuts into innovation, TRUE innovation, that betters the product in the long run and sets an example for others in the industry, we fail!  And in your case we already are!  The Russians landed on the moon first bruh!”

“Guys!”  Bryan interjects.

Edward holds up a finger.  “One second son.  Listen here, I’ve been in this business for 30 years now, you think-”

“I think your father shoulda taught you better than this, yeah.”  Erik quips.

“GUYS!  I have a fucking idea, can you stop to hear it?”

Erik and Edward fume, looking at one another before going back to their respective corners.

“Sure son, and please speak with common sense.”  Edward says rolling his eyes as he sips some bourbon.

“How about we just knock out on engine on each side of the aircraft, so that gives room for the extra passenger space to be added?”

Erik’s face screws up “BOY THAT’S THE DUMBEST-”

Edward stops Erik.  “Hang on.  There are no wrong answers here.  Keep talking, what do you mean by that?”

Erik is incredulous.  “There are literally very wrong answers that can be given when discussing the composition of an aircraft!”

Bryan clears his throat.  “Well, of course we have to map out the logistics of it all.  But that’s the difference between us and our competitors.  They have constructed their aircrafts to be able to accommodate the extra passenger space by having the bodymore elevated from the ground.  The only thing blocking ours is the extra engines.”

“There are so many things wrong with what you just said, it’s hilarious honestly.  But you have a good time figuring it out.”  Erik gets up to leave.

“Oh actually, if you have space in your schedule, we need you to help with this one.  I really wanna get the ball rolling on this so we can be prepared to roll out by next spring at the latest.”

“Why the fuck would I work on something that ain’t my damn idea?  Your boy said it, let him handle it.  I don’t need no credit for this.”

Edward scoffs.  “That’s fine.  You can do the work and get none of the credit.  How’s that?”

“What?”

He pats Erik’s shoulder.  “We have a father son golf tournament we wanna get some practice in for anyhow.  Erik, I trust you.  You’re my most senior person in this department, and at your age, that is incredible.  I’d love to see you running this place one day, but to do that, you have-”

“I don’t like sports, I don’t do teams, and the only player I am has nothing to do with this company.”

Edward smiles amused at Erik’s tenacity.  “That is good!  I love that enthusiasm.  So I need something, anything crossing my office floor by month’s end or you know, we’ll talk.”

“That’s some bullshit, you know it.”

“Oh, don’t worry.  I did get you some help to soften the blow.  They should be waiting in your office.”

Erik rolls his eyes.  If he has to see one more white person giving him orders, he was gonna make the 5 o’clock news in no time.  He makes his way down the hall and around the corner to trudge his way to his office, checking his pockets for his phone.  He sees a text from Kimara and starts to open it as he walks in.

“Well how you, handsome?”

Erik’s feet make tracks on the tiles as he screeches to a halt.  Looking up he starts to turn warm, eyes widening as he catches a glimpse of a familiar figure.  

“My, my.  I guess you do recognize me.  I’m a lot different outside my work clothes.”  She says, rubbing the back of her neck as she clutches her leather satchel.  She does look a lot different than their first encounter, but the curves can’t hide under her tailor navy blazer with gold piping along the collar and sides, with matching pencil skirt to boot.  The only thing that didn’t change is the heels, that had to be flirting with workplace dress code etiquette for height.

Erik tucks his phone in his pocket.  “Uh, you, uh…Chanel, right?”

She rolls her eyes, fighting an embarrassed smile.  “Whatever I told you that night was a lie.  I never tell dudes I barely know my real name.  It’s Alaina.”

Erik walks across the way offering a hand.  “You didn’t seem too bothered with me being a stranger though.”

She shakes his hand firmly, still smiling slyly.  “Well, that was then.  And I was off the clock.  I can’t be held responsible for what happens after hours.”

“Mhm, if I wasn’t with my boy, you would’ve given me some trouble.  That wasn’t a meat market ma’am, I wasn’t lookin to cut either.”

She raises her hands.  “Hey, I get it.  Especially now.  You have my word I will behave myself.  God blockedt it!”

Erik takes a seat behind his desk as Alaina sits in the chair across from him.  “So you are the secret weapon to getting this bullshit idea off the ground, huh?”

Alaina shrugs.  “I’m here to get a paycheck and possibly a promotion.  I’m here on contract, I gotta make my moves while I can.”

“Ok, that’s cool.  It’s funny how he got all the Black folks working this together for him, but I won’t get into that today.”

She rubs her forehead.  “Please, refrain.  I don’t need a lecture on corporate politics from Brother Erik today.”

Erik chuckles, impressed with her wittiness.  Chanel, or Alaina, was more than just a fat ass in some FashionNova, but a brain on top to boot.  

“You right  Listen, Edward got you here close to my clock out time, so I was gonna go to my bar spot up the street, let off some steam.”

“The Magnolia?  Ooh, I love their martinis at happy hour!”

“And it just started too.”  Erik pulls out his keys and gets up to leave.  “So that’s where I’m headed.  We can pick this up tomorrow, if you not up for martinis.”

“When am I not up for a martini, is the real question.  One drink can’t hurt, I’ll treat you.  And don’t worry about what I said earlier.  I’ll be on my best behavior after hours too.”

--

Kimara comes home to the house dark and empty yet again.  Erik has been taking a lot of time to work after hours and it’s been killing her vibe lately.  When she comes home from the studio, she’d love to see her man welcome her home, but he hasn’t been available.

Phone calls from the fertility specialist urging her to start considering IVF as an option is stressing her out.  Erik isn’t getting the calls, nor is he there when they come.  The most he can give is a hurried, ‘oh what’d they say?  What you wanna do then?  Look I gotta go!’

Kimara was not keen on even thinking about trying to get fertility treatments yet.  One day she invited Lia over, a friend she’s gained from her recent sessions at the studio.  

Over a bottle of wine and junk food, Kimara opened up about her situation as of lately.  It’s hard to avoid as a topic since it’s been consuming her all this time.  

“Sheesh, it’s been that long?”  She exclaims taking a strong sip of her glass.

Kimara nods emphatically.  “I wish I was lying but yeah.  We are closing in on a year pretty soon, and I’m not getting any younger, so I may have to look into this pretty soon.  It’s not like we are having a whole lot of sex these days anyway.  He’s at work constantly.”

“Girl, fix that ASAP!  Nothing makes me more jaded than not busting one every so often.”

“No one said I wasn’t busting, I would like to have my man in on it too, every once in a while.  I need a new charge cord for my shit now!”

Lia guffaws.  “So who’s ignoring who though in this situation?  I know he can’t resist our fine ass.”

Kimara scratches her head.  “Well…”

“Oh!  Now we don’t have much to say!”

“I mean!  He comes in late as hell.  I’m in my bonnet, got on my mask, knee deep in Blue Bell watching my shows when he comes in.  By the time I’m in bed and he takes a shower, he tries to get handsy.  But I don’t wanna just be devoured and tossed aside, I want some damn communication!”

“Well at least you know he wants it still.”

“Yeah yeah, but when I call him on the bullshit he turns his ass back over real quick.  He won’t talk to me and I’m getting so damn tired of trying.”

Lia looks at her phone.  “Shit, I gotta go girl.  The sitter won’t hesitate to charge me extra for being late.  But girl, just take some deep breaths.”

Kimara does.  “Will air give me a baby and my hot and horny relationship back?”

“No but it’ll give some blood flow to that crowded ass brain of yours so you don't get to talking foolish.”

Kimara hugs her and walks her out the door when she sees some headlights pull into the driveway.  Lia looks back.

“Be nice, but stand your ground.”  She winks before walking on, waving wildly at Erik’s car.  He waves back nonchalantly as he walks in after you.

“Who was that?”   Erik asks.

“A friend from the studio.  Just keeping me company.”  You say, discarding you glasses.

Erik tosses his keys on the counter, taking his shoes off.  

“You want something to eat?”  You ask at the kitchen sink.

“Nah, you good.  I already ate.”

“This late?  So work came with dinner today?”

“You could say that.”  Erik sas in a monotone as he takes his jacket off.

Kimara stans there tapping her foot impatiently.  “Well, what do you say?”

“...you forgot to clean the dishes again?”

“Erik!”

He laughs.  “I’m just kidding!  Damn, how’s your day?  Love you.  Thanks for everything.  I’m takin a shower.”He kisses a fuming Kimara quickly sensing his job being done.

Erik heads upstairs to the master bathroom as she loads the dishwasher, which has become like a part time job for her.  Erik used to try and pull doing the ‘traditional’ household tasks mess on her.  But Kimara snapped him up quick with some facts, ultimatums, and peppered threats to get her point across that that was not how things would go down.  But he’s fallen off the wagon this month.  Kimara sets the washer on and rinses her hands with fury before bounding up stairs.  She hears the water running and open the door.  Erik’s silhouette is frosted and murky behind the foggy glass of the shower door.  The scent of his body wash fills her nostrils, lighting up her senses.  Kimara loves the soap he uses and can’t resist when he’s cleaned up to get him dirty all over again.  But like she told Lia, she hasn’t been in the mood as of late he didn’t earn that ass yet.  

Kimara sits on the toilet lid.  “Erik, what’s been going on?”

Erik opens the door a crack and peeks his head out, sudsy bubbles speckle his skin as he grins.  “Yo, what’s it look like I’m doin?  You tryna join me?”

She shakes her head.  “I wanna know where my husband has been spending his time.”  

Erik’s smile fades as he closes the door again talking over the water.  “I haven’t done nothing but work.  And trust me, I don’t like it no more than you.”

Kimara makes face of frustration.  “So what changed?  This isn’t normal for you still.”

“I mean...there’s nothing to talk about now, but I got this project on my head that had a strict deadline and me and this partner have just been…..you know, hammering it out.”

Kimara sighs.  “It’s not the same not having you here.  I don’t like it, it’s not fair to me.”

Erik shuts off the shower, getting out with his body glistening wet and clean, grabbing a towel across the way to dry off.  “I ain’t no fan either, but I’m tryna do some big things here that will hopefully make some history and that takes a lotta time and energy.”

“So does a relationship!  I been having dinner by myself, sleeping by myself.  I get calls from the doctor asking for us when there is no US to consider.”

Erik peaks from behind the towel on his face. “Hey hey!  We still us, don’t trip!  Like I said, I-”

“BUSY!  Sure Erik, whatever fits your conscience.  This project better have a break time, cuz WE have things to do too, remember?  So you and your boy, whoever your project partner is are gonna have to work something out.”

Erik wraps his towel around his waist before kneeling in front of Kimara.  “I know you think I forgot but I haven’t.”

Kimara’s eyes shift from him.  “What?”

Erik smirks.  “Now you gonna hurt my feelings if you forgot.  Tomorrow…..our anniversary?”

Kimara tears well up instantly.  Of course she thought he had forgotten.  He hasn’t said a damn thing leading up to today, what else would she think.

“I don’t want you crying on the happiest day of my life, you hear me?  We in that year three, third times the charm right?”

Kimara really starts to ugly cry now.  “Why you makin me cry if you don’t want me too?”

Erik kisses her hands.  “You are my life.  My one, my baby.   One thing we learned together no matter how far I go, we come back together as one, you know?”

Kimara sniffles, leaning her forehead against Erik’s thinking over their years together.  That statement didn’t always ring true to her, but in a small way he has been right.

“No decision I make goes without thinking of you, our family.  I got us reservations tomorrow, and tickets to that comic you love on the Boulevard.  We got the whole day to do what we wanna do, don’t trip.”

“Don’t scare me like this.”  Kimara says with an exhausted tone.  “Even for surprises, don’t.”

Erik’s eyes met hers.  “Nothing is keeping me from you.  Tomorrow let’s make that appointment with the doctor too.  I’m feeling pretty lucky right now, we are gonna get our shot.”

“You feelin lucky to get lucky?”  Kimara says stifling a laugh.

Erik pulls her closer to him by her hips.  “No lottery better in the world.”

They kissed sweetly at first, feeling a familiar urge that makes her legs tighten up.  Kimara pulls away first.  “I thought about something you said though before, about a different doctor.  My friend knows a fertility specialist that may be worth looking into, maybe we can them next.”

Erik nods, looking lost in her face, running his thumb along her cheek.  “Sure, I’m up for whatever.”

“Also, while you been busy, I’ve been looking at spots for a vacation.  I’m; narrowing it down to the DR, PR, Turks and Caicos, or Belize.”

Erik buries his face in her chest, kissing the softness of her skin.  “I trust your judgement.”

Kimara defends herself against his ticklish lips.  “But I want your opinion too!  And since things been going good with T’Challa and his lady, they should join us officially.  We can have dinner with them next week to get acquainted and start talking about it.”

“Ok!  You gonna help me cook?”

Erik scoffs.  “Who said that?  We cookin now?  Why don’t we do like them damn Koreans and just say bring your meat and here’s the stove. Ge to it!”

She rolls her eyes.  “I’m am so sick and damn tired of that smart mouth of yours.”

He cocks an eyebrow, giving your thighs a squeeze.  “It knows what to do when you need it to.”

“Oh?”

They smile into each others mouth as their lips come together in an embrace.  Kimara’s hands play in Erik’s locs, carefully rubbing his scalp as he moans under the sensation.  Her knees rub around him causing his towel to fall.  

Erik picks her up, kissing at her neck with neediness.  “I know you not tryna fuck on this toilet?”

Kimara sighs erotically rolling her head back to take in his mouth.  “Like I give a shit where I get it right now…”

Eight Years Ago

Kimara sits in the studio after hours, playing around with the keys on a keyboard.  The day was done but she had plans to meet with someone so she was just biding her time.  In the distance she could hear the bells jingle on the front door of the studio as someone walks in.  She checks her phone for an ‘on the way’ text but there is none, and curses herself for forgetting to lock the door.  

She slowly comes out from the back room.  “Uh, sorry but we’re clo-”

The jean jacket he loves, little locs bound atop his head, and a pair of broad shoulders hunched looking through framed photos of musicians spanning decades in a display case told Kimara all she needed to know for identification.  Her heart lurches into her throat, cutting off her breath to produce sound as Erik slowly turns to look at her.

“Wassup?”  He says with a casual grin.  

“H-hey.  How did you-”

“Find you?”  She shakes his head looking back at the photos.  “It ain’t that hard to figure out.  Not as hard as getting to Wakanda to see me I guess.”

Kimara folds her arms walking slowly towards him.  “Erik, I couldn’t go all the way over there.  For what?  Your cousin told me you were safe, and frankly that’s all I was worried about.”

He nods, turning to face you with his hands in his pockets.  You take a deep breath looking him over.  Still as big as ever, and looking good to have gone through and done all T’Challa told her happened in Wakanda.  And in a small way his eyes seemed different and familiar, not like the night he left.  But like the friend she once knew.

“I’m glad he filled you in on that.  Yeah, it took a lotta counselling with my demons, but...I figured out what I needed to let go and change for the better.”

“Good.  I’m glad, really.”  Silence comes between the both of them.  Him just standing there looking at Kimara made her feel shy all of a sudden.  She thought about this day often: what she would say or do if she caught him out here after all he put her through on her own.  But now that spirit just isn’t in her.  She felt stagnate, like her whole system shut down and is preparing for a reboot.

“How have you been?”  He asks, scratching his beard humbly as his eyes drop a second from her face.  “You look nice by the way.”

Kimara shrugs.  “I haven’t been up to much recently.  I teach music to school kids and...since you found me here maybe you heard I do backup for artists sometimes.”

Erik shakes his head.  “Nah, I hadn’t heard that actually.  Congratulations!  You deserve that, your talent is outta this world, Mara.”

She gives him a weak smile.  “And we’re closed now,so I mean if you want to meet up another time, I gotta-”

“Did you miss me?”  Erik asks.

Kimara stammers.  “Uh…”

Erik leans on the case hanging his head low.  “I know I shouldn’t have come by your place that night.  I don’t know what has gotten into me but I promise you I hadn’t planned for any of it.”

“I know that now.  You came to me confused and left me just as such.  I thought you were staying with me.”

“I know, and I was.  I just wasn’t ready-”

“To be a man? To be grown enough to take responsibility head on?”

Erik shrugs looking slightly bewildered.  “Possibly, I don’t know!  I didn’t want to hurt you and leave you without me seeing you one more time but that night made it even harder for me to want to go.”

“Then why did you?  Why did my body become your test of ‘should I stay or should I go?’  You were planning to leave regardless, you just said!  So why weren’t you upfront with me?!”

“Because I love you and didn’t want you to get hurt!”

“But you hurt me Erik!  You did!  You came over feeling big and bold, I softened you up but a minute before you peaced out on me.  Like that shit didn’t matter?  Like that’s even something we did before.”

Erik’s eye hang low.  “I didn’t mean for the first to be the last.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the sex Erik.  I was just another in a line of females you wouldn’t look twice at.  You ain’t my first to do that, I don’t give a shit.  But if you weren’t interested in being my man, you could’ve at least been my friend and thought for one second how leaving to do a homicide suicide mission with who knows and where and leaving me high and dry!  I was a MESS!  I was inconsolable, Erik we practically grew up together and you just that easily forgot what all that shit meant?”

Erik shakes his head emphatically, walking slowly over to her with outstretched hands.  “Mara I’m sorry.”

Kimara gulps for air between sobs, feeling herself go weak.  “No!  Don’t do that.  I’m sick of you.”

Erik wipes his face eyes turning red, looking sorrowful.   “I been sick of my damn self.”

Kimara grabs Erik by the collar of his jacket.  “I’m so sick of you bringing this tye of shit outta me.  I was over you, I swear I was.”

Erik’s arms wrap around Kimara tightly as she burrows her face into his chest.  They shake with emotion together, swaying side to side and letting go on one another.  Kimara hugs Erik as tightly as she can, feeling rubbing his back, caressing his head to make sure he isn’t a dream.  But it’s real.  Erik’s hads travel the length of your back before finding either side of your face to pull your gaze to his.

“I won’t put that pressure on you again.  I’m not leaving your side either.  I don’t even care if you got a nigga, I got your back when he fuck up.”

Kimara makes a noise that’s a combo of a sob and a laugh while holding the back of his hands in his.  “You still a damn fool.”

When Erik’s eyes meet Kimara’s, there’s an energy that kept accelerating, building between the two of them.  It was tortuous, almost irritating how lonely her lips felt when she looked at his, and Erik definitely felt the same.  

God’s hand seemed to keep twirling around their heads, bringing them closer bit by bit until their mouths met.  Kimara’s body felt like a whole piece again once connected with his.  She had found a peaceful existence without him but she had no clue she missed him so much until he was right in front of him.  

When they parted for air Kimara rested her forehead on his chin.  “Erik, I can’t just jump into this.  I’m still not there.”

Erik pats her head gently.  “Mara, I ain’t worried bout that.  You here, I’m here.  I don’t need nothing else.  Imma work on my situation, get myself stable.  And you just live your life like you was.  Just this time you can call me.  For whatever.”

Kimara hugs Erik tightly, breathing him in when she feels a vibration in her back pocket.  

“Sorry, hang on.”  Kimara reaches for it, looking to see T’Challa’s name flashing as an incoming call.  She declines it, texting him back to cancel their night together.

Part 6

Masterlist

Ragtag

@chaneajoyyy @sarcastic-sunshines @muse-of-mbaku@dameshaemonique  @fonville-designs@destinio1@bakarisangel@wakanda-inspired@klaine15689 @savageiz@nickidub718@yoyolovesbucky @alexundefined @forbeautyandlife@bakarisangel

[starcunning]

21. Crunch

Your other sister and my other soul

For @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast’s FFXIVWrite 2019. [Title] [AO3 mirror]

Even the canopy of the Greatwood could not entirely shield its denizens from the seething sky that shone above. Shafts of light pierced the trees, falling uncaring upon Slitherbough. It seemed brighter still for the darkness from which X’shasi had just emerged. A funeral, of sorts—one of the very few that X’shasi had been allowed to attend, in this violent life she led. Y’shtola would not be long put off from her task, but there were things to be seen to first.

Minfilia’s eyes were turned skyward, a gentler light dappling her cheeks. She should be playing somewhere, X’shasi thought. Then again, by the time Shasi had seen her fourteenth summer herself, the time for play had been behind her.

Still, Shasi had heard more than a little and a bit about the cell—comfortable, but a cell nevertheless—where Minfilia had lived for a decade, never enjoying the simple pleasures of leaves crunching underfoot or delighting in the way a rain puddle reflected the world above in ghostly echo. She should have been carefree; a happy child, and she never really had.

But there were no carefree children on the First. Amh Araeng had taught her that harsh lesson.

“Minfilia,” she said softly. Those eyes—the selfsame blue as Shasi’s own, though far more radiant—turned toward her. “What is it?” she said. “Can I help?” “I’d like a word before we join the others, if you have a moment.” “Of course,” Minfilia said, and Shasi had to restrain herself from the impulse to offer her her hand. Instead they found a quiet niche, its shade softened somewhat by the light of blue candles, and Shasi perched upon a seat, tapping her fingers nervously against the lip. “You’re not her,” Shasi said softly. “Thancred knows that, as do the others.” “I wonder if you do,” Shasi said. “Am I not doing a good job?” Minfilia wondered, her brow wrinkled and lip trembling. “I can train harder—I won’t get hurt next time—” “You are a child,” Shasi said softly. “I was older than you are now before I became an adventurer, and it was later still that anyone thought to call me a hero. Even the woman they want you to be was only a girl at fourteen.” “But there isn’t time to wait,” Minfilia said. “I know I was only ever a poor substitute for you, but I—” “You’re not!” Shasi said, with a force that surprised even herself. She could see the wide-eyed shock on the girl’s face, and she sighed. “You’re not.” It came out more gently the second time. “Forgive me,” Shasi said. Her eyes closed a moment. “I was in your position once,” she admitted. “The first time I met one of the heroes of Carteneau, he got the impression I resented him. And perhaps I did. Certainly I felt like the world might have preferred him to me. I was not wearing my inherited mantle well then.” She opened her eyes. “I am not his shadow, and you are not mine.”

“What would you have me be, then?” Minfilia asked, lifting a hand to tuck back a lock of golden hair. “It isn’t my decision to make,” Shasi said softly. “It would be so much easier if I could just … be her,” Minfilia said. “I wish she were here instead of me, and Thancred does, too.” “He doesn’t—” “He does! There’s no sense in lying. You’re not very good at it, and I have the advantage in sniffing you out. You wish she were here, too.” “All else being equal, yes,” Shasi admitted. “If I could have her here, I would, at least for his sake. But not at the cost of another. She feels the same way.” “How can you know that?” “The Echo does more than render us immune to the corruption of sin eaters and false gods,” Shasi said softly. “It allows us to see the past, and the secrets that lie in the hearts of men. Among other things, it would seem.” “Then you know what he will not tell me.” “He wants to, I think,” Shasi said softly, “but has not the words. That is the way of things, sometimes. Who could say if I would fare better, were I to come across someone in this place that I loved as he loved her?” “What was she to him?” Minfilia asked. “He has told me of her deeds, but …”

Shasi sighed, and watched the way the candles rippled a moment. “She was a girl of ten when her father died,” Shasi said. “I was there, though I knew it not. There was a parade, and one of the beasts meant for the coliseum got loose. Her father was among the casualties, and Thancred blamed himself—perhaps blames himself still; it would not surprise me—for failing to fell the beast before it killed him. He was … sixteen, perhaps, barely a man himself in most parts of our world. It was another bard, F’lhammin, who assumed the role of mother. Thancred, I think, was more an elder brother to her, and her staunchest supporter.” “I’ve never had a brother,” Minfilia said. “Me either,” Shasi admitted. “When I was young I thought I had, and I hated my mother for taking me away from them, but as it turns out perhaps I have always been an only child, and I understand the reasons why she left. Besides, I suppose his role has changed now.” “It does not rest easily with him.”

Shasi looked at the way Minfilia folded her hands in her lap, and some foreign pain surged in her chest. She bit it back, allowed it no outlet; let it cycle through her until it commingled with the abyss that dwelt in her heart—black and red; love and pain.

“Why wouldn’t he just leave me with Urianger?” Minfilia asked, a note of pleading in her voice. “He could just send me the ammunition, or … or something; I know he wanted me ready for the war upon the sin eaters, but he doesn’t want me and I can’t help him.” Those words lanced through Shasi as though physical things; it was a difference of kind and not degree, she could see at once, but the hurt was the same. Perhaps the answer was, too. “He would never forgive himself,” Shasi said softly. “Should anything befall you that he could have forestalled by his presence … much like the goobue at the parade, he would take that burden of responsibility unto himself. Still, better him than you; he is a man grown, in the end.” “What cause has he for such guilt?” “None, so far as I know,” Shasi said. “He is given to such self-recrimination, but there are few people I consider to be as good a person as Thancred, and … most of them are here.” “Have you ever told him so?” Minfilia asked. “I … have not the words,” Shasi said softly. “Nor do I think he would believe me, even were I sure it was my place to speak them.”

Minfilia only looked at her for a long while, and Shasi turned her head rather than face those crystal-blue eyes.

“You must love him very much, to know him so well,” Minfilia said. “Perhaps I did once,” Shasi murmured, and lapsed into silence a moment. She cleared her throat. “So now you know what drives him,” she said. “As best I can tell it to you.” “And what drives you?” Minfilia wondered. “How did you become such a hero?” “I never wanted to be—” Shasi began, and could not help but think of Ardbert. “… to be a Warrior of Light, much less of Darkness. I wanted to help people; to protect the weak and work for the common good, but … until I met Thancred, I never thought I would do great things. Just good ones, where I could. And now …” “And now?”

Shasi leveled her gaze at the girl’s once more. “I don’t know how to speak to you about this,” Shasi said. “I want to protect you, as the child you ought to be allowed to be, but … I wish also to do you the dignity of addressing you as a peer.” “I have little innocence left to spare,” Minfilia said. “Few do here, I’m finding.” Shasi sighed. “The truth is, I barely want this life. Were it given to me to do it all over again … I would, but not because this was my ambition or my desire. There is a part of me—more real than you can know—that wishes to run away from all this. And much of me resents being here.” “But Urianger’s vision—” “Is but one of many futures, or there would be no point to our actions here. Were fate so undeniable, we would not fight so fiercely. I yet believe there would have been another way. We would have known enough to thwart the catalyst of their calamity. Someone … an ally … was working toward that purpose already, ere the Exarch ever called us hence. That sin I will not forgive so easily,” Shasi said, quiet but vehement. “What sin?” “He robbed me,” Shasi said, “not only of those whom I fought so hard to protect, but of my choice. That is unforgivable to me,” Shasi said, “as it would be unforgivable to me should the Minfilia of the Source take your body from you perforce. As it would be to me were you to join this war under duress.” “I don’t understand,” Minfilia said softly. “It is a choice I make, over and over,” Shasi said, “to be their Warrior of Light. Perhaps I could have refused the Exarch, and bid him find another Warrior of Darkness … but I see now who that burden would have fallen to, and I cannot permit that. It must be me, for the same reasons as ever.” “Because you choose it?” Minfilia said. “Because if I choose it,” Shasi said, “no one else has to. Least of all you.”

[lovelyjasmari]

Kingdom Hearts OC Week 2019 ~ Day 3

@khoc-week

Kalai’s has many people she’s close to but her closest friends are Kairi and Ienzo, having known them ever since she was a child. She is also very close to her youngest sister Adelen. As far as lovers go, Kalai has two. She’s in a very happy poly relationship with Lauriam and Elrena! They all met while still in the Organization and while Marluxia immediately goes out of his way to become close to her, Larxene is more reluctant. But by the time they arrive at Castle Oblivion, they are all clear partners in crime and their bond only increases during their time with the Thirteen Seekers of Darkness. I’ve kind of taken to calling them the “Treacherous Trio” in my mind. XD

Enemy wise, Kalai’s main enemy is Master Xehanort, obviously, but that is more of a default because of the situations she finds herself in. On a more personal level though, her enemies are Xemnas, and Young Xehanort. She despises Xemnas because of his deceit of herself and the other members of the first Organization and she blames him for when Marluxia and Larxene perish in Castle Oblivion. Young Xehanort she hates because he was the one who forced her back into the Organization after re-completion. And nearly the second after she reawakens, he goes out of his way to antagonize and “break” her as a way of amusing himself before the final battle since he's apparently very bored. Their rivalry is extremely fierce. 

For today’s prompt, I’m going to share a bit from Kalai’s second installment that deals with her time in the Organization and her first meeting with Marluxia. At this point, she has already met Larxene and their first meeting is less than ideal. Though intrigued by The Graceful Assassin, she has decided to keep her distance. Let’s just say...that doesn’t go exactly to plan.

~~~

The long white hallways, decorated throughout with the Nobody emblem, seemed to stretch on forever; much larger than that of another castle that she had once resided in her other life. She had been thinking often lately about her past life, in the first few days of her new existence everything had been more or less a blur to her.

But now after nearly a week of residing in this strange new place with a strange new name, small fragments of her memories had begun to return to her. Images of the magnificent castle and the glittering fountains of her home that seemed to come out of a fairy tale, the five kind men who were her caretakers, and also…

Alixka stopped at a set of large glass doors that from outside she could see led to an immense greenhouse. This was a was a new discovery of the castle for her and she could not help her desire to explore. As she slowly pushed open the doors she was immediately taken in by the familiar scent of a greenhouse bursting with life; she remembered, yes, she had loved the flowers that grew in the gardens around her previous home. And her next home before coming to this strange place, Traverse Town, had a vast garden as well where she learned more about her botanical skills as well as her skills with magic. The memories caused a strange burning sensation to flicker in her chest that she could not understand. She wasn’t supposed to have a heart, what was this feeling?

She forced herself to move forward in order to distract herself, she recognized many of the plants as ingredients used to make things like potions and elixirs but others were new to her. In particular there were several rose bushes in every color imaginable as well as a large tree of cherry blossoms in full bloom. Toward the end, a glass roof looked out to give a view of the eternal night sky with a clear view of the golden heart shaped moon that would, hopefully, one day be the salvation of her and those around her. The only other room in the castle that had such a clear view of Kingdom Hearts was the Addled Impasse and Alixka knew by now that she was never to go there without explicit permission from Siax. But gazing up at it gave her a strange sense of solace that she felt she could keep.

That is, so long as no one knew she was here.

Just as the thought passed her mind she heard the glass doors open and soft footsteps coming her way, she panicked.There was no time to make a stealthy escape, and she was not yet used to summoning the Dark Corridors to move from one place to the other.

“Who’s there?”

Alixka quickly hid behind the trunk of the large cherry blossom tree, crouching down and covered by some conveniently placed bushes. Now what did Zexion say to me about the corridors? She thought frantically. The footsteps were becoming louder.

“I know someone else is here. Reveal yourself to me!”

Right! He told me not to think about it. That they would come to my call as naturally as blinking an eye.

It didn’t seem like the most informative advice at that moment though as she shut her eyes constantly but every time she opened them, there she was in the same place as before.

“Very well, have it your way then.”

She heard the door open and close again.

Cautiously, she peeked from behind the tree to see that no one was there. A few tense seconds passed and she realized also that the footsteps had stopped.

"I’ve stayed long enough." She smiled to herself in great relief. "Maybe now I can focus on leaving but not under duress."

Eyes closed once more, she stood up and turned to leave, extending her hand to summon a corridor that would return her to her room. But as she did so she felt something grab hold of her hand tightly, her eyes snapped open to find a live vine wrapped around her wrist and in a second another vine slipped around the other, keeping her from escaping.

“Wha...huh? What the…”

Alixka gasped as she looked up at the graceful pink haired man, gazing at her struggling form with a devilish look in his blue eyes and a smirk on his pale pink lips.

“Well well, I’m certain I’ve never seen a flower like you before.”

“Uh...I...I’m sorry...I…”

She couldn’t finish her sentence because the next thing she knew he was standing right next to her, she tried to turn away from him but he took her chin into his hand to face her. Those wicked blue eyes flashed with amusement.

“Our newest member. The Maiden of Tempests. You’re quite a lovely one aren’t you?”

He was so close to her that she could feel his warm breath ghost over her skin softly. She swallowed hard, unsure whether she disliked the contact or not.

“I take it you were enjoying my garden?”

Her violet eyes involuntarily locked with his and she could feel the heat rise in her face, Alixka did not know much about Marluxia, except that he seemed to be always hanging around the sharp tongued Larxene and she had made no effort to hide her disdain of her despite no longer being the only girl in the Organization. 

If that wasn’t enough for Alixka to know to keep her distance, she had seen him from time to time in the training room sparring with other members and she had formed the idea that he could easily be one of the more powerful members of the Organization. He wielded his pink and green scythe with such a lethal style that she could see why he was considered “The Graceful Assassin”.

But now with Marluxia so close to her, she could not help but feel intrigued in spite of her nervousness. He didn’t sound angry or annoyed so much as playfully curious. She bit her lip, refusing to let her guard down.

“Forgive me for trespassing. Saix instructed me to learn my way around the castle and…”

Marluxia removed his hand from her chin and took a lock of her long dark hair into his hand, letting the strands slide through his fingers as easily as water. He smirked again.

“You couldn’t help but be taken in by so many beautiful flowers could you?”

Alixka hesitated, she hadn’t realized at first that the vines had disappeared and her hands were free. She remained silent, she could escape at any moment if she wanted. Slowly she took a small and cautious step back from her pink haired captor, biting her lip again when she felt Marluxia place his hands on her shoulders.

“You think I’m admonishing you, but I’m not.” He tilted his head and gave her a slightly kinder look. “I’m just curious is all, what drew you to this place?”

“You...you’re right.” She replied softly. “All the plants here are beautiful, and this place has such a fine view of Kingdom Hearts…but…” Turning her face away. “...I swear I won’t come back if you don’t want me too.”

There was a long pause before another smirk covered his face.

“Oh no, it’s fine with me if you wish to come here from time to time. It’s nice to have another within our ranks that has the same appreciation for botany as myself.”

A small smile crept up on Alixka’s face, along with another strange warmth in her stomach she was not used to. She nodded and backed away to leave.

“Leaving so soon, Rosebud?” Marluxia folded his arms and glanced at her curiously. Once again she felt the heat rise in her face.

“Th...there is so much more of the castle I haven’t seen yet. I...best be on my way.” She said quickly as she FINALLY managed so summon a Dark Corridor, disappearing in the fading black and purple one moment and finding herself in her room in another. Zexion was right, somehow she wasn’t even thinking of it, now if only she could learn to control it.

She sat on her bed, wondering to herself why she found herself drawn to Marluxia all of a sudden despite logic telling herself she should avoid him. She couldn’t understand it, but hopefully it probably wouldn't matter much soon; tomorrow she would be assigned her first mission and she had a feeling that she would likely be paired with Zexion or maybe even Lexaeus considering those were the two members she had managed to quickly form a bond with. Alixka was certain that she likely would not see Marluxia again for some time, particularly with Larxene seemingly always attached to him.

~~~

Early the following morning Alixka went, on instruction, to The Grey Area where she would be assigned to her first mission. Saix was not there when she arrived so she took a seat on one of the couches. Three or four other members were sitting silently but she noticed at once the pink haired Nobody glancing at her from across the room with a small smirk on his face. Almost as though he knew something she didn’t. She turned away as she saw Saix enter the room. Alixka rose from her seat respectfully.

 “Alixka.” Saix said, “You will be paired with Marluxia for your first mission today.”

[danddymaro]

A Dance Just for Two | Pt. 1

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader // Bucky Barnes x Reader

“A woman who cuts her hair is about to change her life.”

― Coco Chanel

Yes I edited it. I fixed it so I can finally pick back up on it, and I finally came up with a name.

Word count :  5314

Summary: She’s been in the same cycle for what has been too long, and it gets to a point it's unbearable. 

Fair warning: Drama. Lots of it.

- Bucky here is a lot less reserved than what I've made him be previously. He’s become more comfortable, especially with everyone around him, and not as well...sad and troubled to be blunt // So no angsty Buck.

- I just came up with the title. Thought it was sweet.

Pt. 1 : Just You

The smiling blonde seemed to enjoy her new hairdo, going as far as to touch the shorter (h/c) strands, all while smiling. 

With his fingers already weaved through her hair, he then ran his hand down the short length, soon feeling the soft texture against his skin as it ran through the mass of (h/c), stopping only when he hit little snags that were easily undone by his kind fingers.

Cue the blush on her part, for the start of a game that always went full circle, 

‘You compliment me, and I blush. I compliment you and you smile….' She thought while standing motionlessly, letting him have his way with her, enjoying as he practically petted her.

 '- You compliment me again, and we're back to square one.’ She thought with an unenthusiastic sigh that came out soft and blue.

 It was a tortuous, vicious game they played, but nonetheless, it brought her joy. 

There was an unmistakable, lovely, fluttering to her heart every single time he said something flattering to her, or even looked her way for that matter. 

She could smile for days after being with him for just a few minutes; eating up every scrap of affection he dropped for her, whether he’d intended it or not. 

All in all, he was like a sweet, familiar drug, and she was an addicted fool, always craving more of him, helplessly crawling back whenever she found herself scorned, right after deciding she'd let go for good.

‘I’ve tried to draw back,’ She thought to herself, finding each and every attempt futile, because she was always drawn back.

The blush that he caused would stain on her face like grass marks on a pair of white pants, displayed out for the world to see the embarrassing, little color that gave her away.

It was prominent, and yet, he never made a fuss about it, not caring about the blooming dusk of warmth spread out over her face. That, or he just never noticed, never connecting the dots to realize that the reason behind every one of her bashful twitches was due to him.

‘He’d have to be blind to never see it…’ (f/n) thought with a half-assed feeling of annoyance, wondering if he was really that clueless when it came to something so stupidly transparent to the world.

She was teased by just about everyone else, and yet, he remained unaware.

‘ - Well,' She started, ' he can be just a bit oblivious sometimes,’ she argued, 'And I guess it's not his fault,' She added taking into account that it only made him more beloved.

The trait, though annoying at times, was just one of his sweet points.

  She then shook her head with exasperation, her upset a product of both his behavior, as well as hers, because in the end, she did it to herself.

 ‘ It's hopeless…’ she added while staring up at his handsome face, all in a love-struck state, because there was no other way she could look at him anymore.

The lovely, little feeling of soft-winged creatures tickling the insides of her stomach walls was there, accompanied by the presence of longing, the soft ache residing within her bosom, caused by the very being that easily threw her up into a sweet high, and brought her down just as quick.

Feeling her gaze fall on him, and much more, last, he looked down at her with a look of concern, “ Are you alright (f/n)? “ he asked her with worry, noticing the troubled look on her face, regarding it as rather blue and down.

At the sound of his voice, she came back to earth, brought back from all her mindless musing. 

“Oh... Yeah," She started, speaking airily at first as she slowly found the right words.

  " I've had a few things on my mind lately,” she admitted, telling him a vague truth, not wanting to reveal the true reason for her inner musings. 

How could she admit to him he was on her mind?

How could she tell him, that half of the time she was quiet, she was running over lines that were perfect enough to capture everything she felt to finally let him understand all the things he made her feel.

How could she simply downright admit that she’d been waiting for him to just notice her?

With a lock of her (h/c) colored hair in between her fingertips, she gazed at the chopped strands to focus on something other than his lovely eyes, avoiding them best she could, all in spite of the draw she felt to travel back to them.

It was an act done out of desperation because she knew that if she kept looking at him, and much more focused on just him, she'd be fidgeting too much.

 She was desperately attempting to suppress the undeniable joy within her rapidly palpitating heart as he gazed at her, 

‘He worries about me so much...’ she thought to herself, feeling special by having stolen his sweet blue gaze for just that instant.

 ‘He’s so sweet...Always concerned about everyone else,’ she then added, loving the selfless trait, earnestly admiring it.

Seeing her still gazing at the straight ends of her freshly cut hair, he spoke with growing amusement, “ Not regretting it already, are you?” he asked her, having witnessed how fickle women could be with their hair, and just about anything that constituted as fashion. 

Times had changed, and yet the behavior went back and was even older than he was, all to a point he'd been witness of it while observing his own mother.

Lightly shaking her head,(f/n) chuckled, “Not yet,” she responded truthfully. 

” - But give me a day or two, though,” she added, shooting him a cheeky grin, easily earning a soft chuckle.

“Alright, but I do have to ask...You’ve been growing it out for a while,” he started, “ why the sudden decision?“ he asked with interest, seeing it all as sudden.

“That..." She murmured, chuckling wearily. " Well, I just thought that maybe a new look was in order,” she added while speaking just as softly, trying to hide the giddy smile playing at her nude lips.

‘I really did it for you…’ she inwardly mused, though, not willing to say so openly.

The true reason behind the change wasn't as spontaneous as he'd believed, and much more hadn't been one she executed with ease.

She stood in before the wide mirror, staring deeply into the reflection with scrutinizing eyes, contemplating on just what would draw his attention. 

She needed something that would change the game, effectively baiting him to her rather than having her silently pinning for him.

- For one, she could always try and be sexier.

It was what came to mind first, and what was always suggested for a woman during her time of duress.

It was well known that A sexy woman had the world at her hand, and she didn't need to look any farther than the redhead on her team to verify that.

“Sexier...” (f/n) said with thoughtfulness. “Me, sexy,” She added softly, the idea sounding absurd the more she contemplated it.

Her right hand's fingers played with the zipper holder of her suit, hesitating over whether or not she should dare to draw it any lower. She always just left it at her collar bone, never thinking twice about it, because all in all, it was just a uniform she wore, one she was fine with.

She never had considered making a change to the little silver piece’s usual ending destination until then.

‘But...’ She inwardly spoke, ‘Maybe just dropping it down will do the trick,’ She reasoned.

The zipper traveled down in a slow, creeping manner that soon revealed a teasing peek of her chest that left her doubtful as the little piece landed far lower than it would ever have gone while out on the field.

she stared at herself for a prolonged minute before she eased a few strands of (h/c) colored hair behind her ear before she cocked her head to the side, marveling at the sight with a soft, melodic hum.

her two hands then slid over her chest, pushing up the cushioning of her chest in the process before she let gravity work it’s usual magic.

“I don’t know...” She huffed while her left hand’s three longest fingers moved, soon curling into the collar before gliding them up a down the edge of the material, working the pads of her digits over the tiny, metal teeth.

It took her a moment to rethink it before she shook her head, openly expressing herself with a halfhearted smile that was graced by a touch of exasperation.

She then pulled up the zipper, gliding it up and stopping 3 inches below her collar, 

 “I guess this is more reasonable for me,” she muttered, pouting as she noticed how little of a difference the small change made.

“Well, there goes that option,” she muttered in a deadpanned tone.

 She then slumped, her head falling down in defeat to a paint that her chin grazed her chest.

 She had begun to believe the entire plan was hopeless until she noticed the color (h/c) come into vision. 

The bangs dangling between her furrowed brows made her swallow hard, the woman knowing there was one other possibility she hadn't considered, or rather, had tried to keep out of mind.

- Her hair.

Steve had mentioned once that he found short hair to be cute, and it played at the back of her mind, teasing her as an option.

“cute,” she said out loud, meditating over the idea.

 “I think I could be cute,” she said thoughtfully, pulling at the drawer to her left, blindly fishing for a silver little tool she hadn’t used in a good while. 

For months now she had decided she wouldn't even touch the sharp pair, putting it far back in the deepest crevasses of her mind with the hopes she wouldn’t be tempted to mess with the progress of her hair’s growth.

‘ ...But would he really like it?’ she thought with consideration, gnawing at her bottom lip, doubting that a haircut was enough to stun him. 

'Would a simple haircut magically make him fall in love?' She idly wondered, knowing that the chances were slim to none.

She focused hard on the clear reflection, imagining a cute, little cut styled on her instead of the grown-out appearance of her (straight/wavy/curly) hair.

“I’m sure… I’m sure he will,” she said before heaving, nodding her head anxiously, trying to convince the woman that stared back at her.

 “ He’d notice for sure,” she said holding the slim, chromed scissors within a shaky hand.

All in spite of her final decision, she could feel her body quiver, and she thought about how stupid it may have seemed from an outsider’s perspective, because at the end of the day, it was just hair, and eventually, it would grow back. 

She wasn't a vain person but was well aware that a horrible haircut could ruin her appearance in its entirety.

It could bring her confidence down to an all time low, and she was certain that while in her current state, she didn’t need to be humbled any more than she already was.

‘Oh, come on!’ she thought to herself, closing her eyes and picking the first strands of hair in between the length of her index and middle fingers. 

With a quick snip, she let the first pieces fall, “It’s done,” she told herself, “ no backing out now,” she said with a low chuckle, giving the more spineless part of her no choice to turn back. 

“Now...” she murmured while carefully Splitting her hair in two large chunks.

  Afterward, she picked up the left portion, staring down at it as it lay in her hand, giving it one last, silent farewell. 

However, in spite of her determination to pull through, as she neared the open scissors towards the chunk of hair, she recoiled, chickening out. 

Her grip on the portion of hair then tightened in rebuttal, tugging at it with frustration whilst a wild surge of will suddenly hit her.

A low rumble vibrated in the back of her throat as she pressed her teeth together tightly, nearly dusting the two rows with the angered force,

‘Just do it!’ She inwardly cried as she pressed the opened sharp end of the clippers so tightly against her hair it dug into the corner, wedging itself into the small crack.

 By then all she had to do was apply a little pressure to close the trimmer in order to go through with it, but even with that knowledge, she remained stiff, stuck frozen. 

She continued to glare at her reflection on the dresser mirror, pursing her lips together into a hard etched, focused frown.

 ‘You have to learn to take risks,’ an inner voice nagged her, repeating advice she’d heard constantly over the course of her life. 

‘This isn’t just about the hair, and you know it!’ She started, by then realizing that it was more about the leaps she didn’t take. 

‘If I can start off with this,’ She continued, ‘If I can start off with this then I won’t be stuck waiting for him to come to me!’ She encouraged herself, wanting change in more ways than just appearance wise.

“3...2...-”

Her door suddenly slammed open, making her jump while she drew in a large, obnoxious breath, silencing her countdown before it died down to zero. 

At that same moment, the sound of a quick snip bounced in her left ear, making her blood run cold, her entire body frozen rigid straight.

She could feel her blood freeze, her pumping heart halted at the chilling echo.

Bucky stood at the doorway, smiling big, his face practically beaming as he addressed her, “Hey doll read-” He Started, but his words died down as he stared at the frozen woman. 

Her hand was still stuck mid-air, her eyes wide and large, the two large globes refusing to blink even while she trailed the wetting (e/c) colored eyes over to him.

They stared at each other for a few long seconds before she made the first move.

With stiff motions, she placed her hands at her sides, shifting uncomfortably, not knowing what to do with herself. Unwillingly, a little croak escaped her, the sound similar to a creaky door being slowly opened.

His watchful eyes led him down to the utensils that were on the floor, and that had landed directly by her right foot. 

Scattered over the floor were (h/c) strands, making his left brow rise in question, 

“So…" He started, dragging out the word as he continued to look over the scene, "what you up to?” he asked her while languidly stepping closer. 

At the question, she hung her head in humiliation and defeat,

 “Something stupid,” she muttered, instantly regretting her decision as she eyed the large clump of hair on the floor.

‘Oh my god...’ she inwardly cried, realizing how much of it had been snipped.

“It looks bad, right?” she asked him shakily, lifting her head up to face him again, by that point giving him a good look at her blunder. 

A lopsided straight cut went through the left portion of her head, the shortest cut strands being a good inch below her chin, going much shorter than she had ever planned. 

 He grimaced, his face saying everything she needed to know. 

 At his lack of verbal response, she brought her hands up to her face, cupping over her mouth as she released a scream that became muffled.

“What am I going to do ?!” she huffed, gawking at the reflection before her, her fingers on both hands hastily running through the longer strands of hair on the other side of her head in a manner that tugged at them, bringing forth little stings to her scalp. 

"what should I do, What should I do,?!" She whisper-yelled.

 Her head inclined back and she closed her eyes trying to think, mentally berating herself for being such an idiot. 

She wished she could go back in time, far before she had even had the idea to begin with.

“Why did I even think this was a good idea...” she muttered, wanting her reflection to mystically go back to what it had been a few moments ago.

“I’m such an idiot... what do I do now!” she added.

Wordlessly bending down, the dark-haired male picked up the fallen scissors, shaking his head in disapproval as he joggled off the (h/c) strands that had stuck to it and were still wedged within the little space where the blades met.

Her (e/c) colored eyes then followed him as he reached for the black comb, holding it in his empty hand before he approached her, all while silent.

He gave her a quick once over before executing a brief nod, putting down the scissors over the flat surface of the dresser before one of his hands flattened down her hair, lightly petting it while the other ran the comb over its length to make sure it had all been straight down evenly.

"It should be damp," He informed her, moving to grab one of the bottles she had on display, sprinkling her hair with the water before actually getting to work.

”Do...Do you know what you're doing?” She Said softly, not wanting to cut it any shorter.

He clicked his tongue at her, “These gorgeous locks aren't just genetics,” He said saucily, using his left hand to flip his hair back, the action rousing a lukewarm small smile from her. 

She began to smile, albeit a halfhearted one at his comment.

“(f/n)...You trust me, don’t you?” he asked her and, she nodded in response, wasting no time to answer him. 

“100%,” she told him.

She soon saw him at work, fixing her blunder with careful, movements as the man took his time. 

Throughout the entire moment, his face was set into full focus, and occasionally his lower lip sank in beneath his teeth as he tried to level out the (h/c) colored hair.

“You could have gone to a salon,” he told her, finding the silence to be somewhat overbearing, especially while knowing she was just looking at him with her pretty (e/c) eyes, attentive to every movement he made. 

 “ I know,” she muttered, “ But they were all closed right now,” she explained. 

“-It’s the middle of the night,” he said flatly, “ So, I’m not too surprised, “ he added sarcastically.

“Honestly (f/n),” he sighed lowly, soon finishing up with a quick , little slip.

Placing his hands over her shoulders he then smiled, “There,” he said with triumph, placing his chin over her head, looking over her to also gaze at the mirror.

“Pretty good right?” he asked her, hoping she liked the end result, because he’d given it his all.

It wasn't all too different from what he usually did for himself to level down the strands to a reasonable length, and it was a lot easier to work with her because he could actually see the back of her head while he worked.

So, all in all, it was his best work, and he only hoped that she was happy with it.

“You really did it...” she breathed, lifting her hands up to lay over his fingers, all while lifting up her shoulders in the process to the point that the back of his hands smooshed against her cheeks. 

“I can’t believe you actually did it!” she beamed, brimming with joy before she pushed herself forward from him, preforming a quick spin that lead to her latching onto him.

“You really are the best!” she exclaimed.

Surprised at the coddle, he snickered, “I know,” he said shrugging, playing off the effects of her gratefulness that came in the form of a sweet cuddle. 

He then clicked his tongue, “...Can’t imagine where you’d be without me,” he added, something she didn't have a rebuttal for, because she had no idea.

 “Now that that's settled,” he started, going back to what had made him look for her to begin with, “ You and me, “ he said pointing between the two, “ Movie night, my pick this time,” he told her.

“I've already got everything set up,” he said lifting his thumb up, “So put on your best Pj’s and we can get this started,” he urged her, not leaving without a yes.  

“Is it actually going to have color this time?” she asked him teasingly, though actually curious.

 “As a matter a fact, they do,” he clarified. “Lots of it," he swore to her. 

"...It's mostly kid-friendly stuff,” he informed her with a bit of embarrassment. 

“ So, you know... the happy, little stuff. It takes my mind off of... well everything else,” he added with a lowered down voice that held a touch of awkwardness.

“-You know me,” he said softly, hoping she wouldn't mind too much.

 Bucky had taken a liking to animated films that included happy little endings, which was generally speaking, the cute stuff. 

He had been somewhat sheepish about the admittance at first, knowing that it seemed strange for a man like him to be into such silly things. Even she was surprised, however, when he explained to her how much more enjoyable those films were to him, she quickly understood his reasoning. 

Having taken part in war, coupled with the remembrance of his former persona as the Winter Soldier made the more action-packed, explosives and gun-crazy productions rather dull to him. 

It was nothing new. 

He had lived through the majority of it, and didn’t care to sit through more of it.

“So sugar doll, care to join me?” he asked her, holding out his hand for her to take.

‘Can it be, just us tonight?’ He wondered. 

“Will there be (favorite candy)’s involved ?” she questioned him skeptically, her hand hovering above his, teasing him with the near contact, going as far as to wiggle her fingers abpve his open palm 

“Ahh, of course,” He responded back in a ‘duh’ manner. “Do you even have to ask?” he added. 

At his act of offense, she put up both her hands before her, “Oh, ok!” she said while shaking them, laughing at his reaction. 

"Okay," She repeated, “Let me just take a quick rinse, and I’ll be out,” she told him. 

Nodding he made his way out of her room, 

“I’ll be waiting,” he informed her, smiling all the while.

Steve continued to gaze down at the young woman as they walked, marveling at the sight of her, finding her new look to be a good fit, one that perfectly accented all of her lovely facial features.

“ Well, whatever the case may be, you look beautiful,” he commented sincerely.

Her cheeks felt the familiar warmth not leaving, and prolonging its stay at his innocent statement, and yet again, he was oblivious to the way a simple comment so sweet made her feel.

He always complimented her without so much as batting an eyelash, the words flowing out easily, like A second nature to him and it drove her completely mad.

 Because while she was practically heating up and steaming like a little, red tea kettle, he remained unaware.

- Unaware of the sky-high reaches her heart would elevate to when he fed her those small compliments and gentle affections. 

- Unaware of just how much of her heart he had occupied.

Did he not know how easily he could capture a girl’s heart? 

Could he not see how weak she’d become by just a simple look of his?

She wondered if maybe, just maybe by a slim chance, he actually found her to be truly beautiful. 

- Beautiful in the manner a man found a woman to be attractive and not like a friend who uses the word to describe someone who could easily be his silly little sister.

‘What do you really think of me Steve?’ she wondered helplessly.

She really hoped she wasn't just a silly little sister to him.

‘But how could I even know...?’ She wondered. ‘I can’t just ask him,’ she thought dejectedly.

She performed a silent heave, assuming she was just thinking too much about everything. 

She supposed it was just second nature for him to be kind, and to be simply astonishing in that manner. 

Perhaps he never meant any harm by his actions.

“Thanks..” she mumbled gracefully, trying not to let her heart crawl up her throat.

“I was hoping you'd think so…” she added ever so subtly, almost too quietly.

‘ I was hoping you'd like it...Moreover, I was hoping you'd notice…’

Chuckling, he placed an arm behind her, his hand landing on the arm furthest from him before bringing her in for a side squeeze. 

“Care about my opinion much?” he asked teasingly, having heard her little confession.

Laughing shakily, she drew from him, rolling her eyes. “Y- Yeah right!” she sputtered out. “I just didn't want to deal with you messing with me if it came out bad!” she said while huffing.

“You’re a real bully, You know that?” She then added.

“Me, a bully?” he asked her with a look of surprise, being just a bit too dramatic for her to believe he was honestly taken back by her comment.

'No…' She mused, quickly understanding that he just wanted to bicker and play along.

“Yes, You!” She responded, poking at his chest, “ You’re always picking on me,” she accused him. 

“Doesn’t sound like me,” he disagreed, dismissing her allegation before once again falling into a calm quiet.

With eyes downcast, and a tiny smile playing at her lips, she walked beside him, fully content at just being near him.

Moments like those, with just them two alone, made her heart feel joy.

It made her feel nearly complete, even if it was just for the moment.

“Oh, so how was your day ?” she asked suddenly, wanting a real conversation, because anything other than her flustering interested her more.

She wanted something other than just silence and stupid pondering that only lead to her overthinking.

He looked to his side, soon glancing at her again, quickly taking notice of the spark of interest that resided within her brightened eyes.

Secretly, he admired the way they twinkled and shinned, the man enticed by the sweet glow.

Whenever he looked towards them, he found them sparked an enchanting melt of both kindness and warmth that could not be feigned.

He offered her a gentle smile as he chatted about his day, opening up about even the smallest detail, and it made her feel special to know he shared those thoughts with her, all to a point that she felt like she'd been there with him.

As their friendship blossomed, she became aware of his feelings, staring from his dreams, to aspirations, and eventually even his fears that he’d kept tucked away.

Everything that made the man behind the shield was no secret to her and it made her fall more in love with him.

Things like a simple stroll became something magical if it were just the two of them, but lately, she had begun to realize that there was a slow rift between them.

Sometimes he was silent, caught in deep thought - which was alright.

  He had his moments, and she did too, but lately, within these moments, a different look would come over him.

  It was one that was something foreign to her, but she knew it was something that haunted him, to a point he seemed distant.

“ You ok?” You asked concerned, noticing how he’d drifted off into silence.

He blinked a couple of times in silent thought, before he responded with a slightly puzzled smile, 

“Don't worry I'm fine, “ he said chuckling, trying to calm her worries. 

“I don't know what got over me, maybe I need to take a break from all the assignments I've had lately. “ he said with a boyish chuckle that seemed sweet and coltish.

“You work hard…" She said with certainty, " You know, no one would think less of you if you took a personal day,” she said sincerely.

“I guess so,” he agreed. “I'll make sure to take one soon.” He decided, watching her face melt into relief that was short-lived.

“You mean it this time?” she asked him, giving him a flat look, pursing her lips to show her doubt. 

He had said the same before but never gone through, so she had reason to not believe him.

“Don’t give me that look,” he told her, lifting up his right hand to his heart, “ I swear, “ he promised her, and she would have placed more attention on him, had the sight above him not mesmerized her.

The sun had fallen an hour ago, leaving the sky to be painted with a rich indigo, small diamond-like twinkling stars decorating the airspace, all coming out to give an appearance.

“Wow, there are so many stars out tonight,” she said breathlessly, watching them gleam. 

Craning his neck, he also looked up, his eye softening at the beauty,

“Would you look at that...” he muttered, both soon stopping to take a look at the nature’s art.

She felt his hand brush hers, sending a little spark to run up her arm that gave her a soft chill. 

Her (e/c) strayed down to his hand as it carelessly brushed hers.

It was just the two of them, out together on a lovely night, and it was all set up right.

Maybe now would be the moment for her to confess, right?

She prepared herself for her confession, crossing her digits for good measure. 

“Steve?” she said softly, trying to catch his attention, but had spoken much to quietly as a result of her hesitancy.

‘I can’t keep doing this...’ she thought to herself, not wanting to keep at just watching him any longer, knowing she had to take the strive forward. 

She licked her drying lips, opening them to speak again, but the sudden burst of adrenaline suddenly dispersed as she watched his eyes glitter underneath the moonlight, making the stars’ gleam from above go outclassed.

' Why do you do this to me ?’ she asked him, knowing he wouldn't answer her back. ‘Why do you make me feel so weak...?’

Inwardly, she groaned at her cowardice. 

She then took a light breath through her nostrils before a tickle within it made her nose twitch. 

It was not long before she released a small, dry sneeze that interrupted their quiet moment. 

His attention came back to her, and with the same beautiful crystal eyes, he looked down at her. 

With a placid smile, he watched the troubled woman huff, rubbing her hands together to get warm.

“Maybe we should go inside, “ he suggested while eyeing the pink color of her cheeks, mistaking it for an effect of the winter breeze. 

“It’s getting pretty cold out, Wouldn’t want you to get sick,” he said taking a hold of the hand closest to him before taking a fast pace back to the Avenger's facility.

 He tugged her along the entire trial while all the while, she stared at the hand gripping hers with a tiny speck of hope worming its way through to her.

‘How could I have not fallen in love with you?’ she wondered with a loving smile, her gaze set on just him, feeling his warmth melt over hers.

How could her heart betray her and lead her the wrong way? 

How could her body react so wildly at someone not meant to be?

‘It has to be you, Steve...’

Pt. 2: Marshmallows 

[trinuviel]

Winterfell’s Daughter. On Sansa Stark (part 7)

I’ve previously written a series of metas on Sansa Stark’s narrative arc during season 1 of Game of Thrones (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6). In this post I’m taking a look at her story in season 2. Sansa Stark is one of my favorite characters and in this respect season 2 is hard to watch because so much mental, physical and sexual abuse is heaped upon the poor girl. Yet despite her hardships, Sansa also shows that she’s both courageous, compassionate and kind. She shows us that she is strong - a strength that is mental rather than physical since she is not trained to fight like her sister. Sansa’s resilience lies in the strength of character.

Sansa refuses to be broken by the malice of the Lannisters. She fights back in her own way. Her resistance is a passive one but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t a form of resistance. She doesn’t physically or verbally attack her captors. Instead she deploys her courtesy as an armour and she also employs a subtle and snarky wit as well as a strategic form of flattery to manipulate Joffrey. Those who are clever can see through her ploys yet cannot really reproach her since her statements seem flattering on the surface. She shows the audience that she is more clever than people initially assume.

COURAGEOUS AND KIND

Season 2 of Game of Thrones opens with a tourney in King’s Landing in honour of King Joffrey’s nameday. However, this tourney is a far cry from the chivalric pageantry that characterized the Hand’s Tourney in the previous season. In fact, Joffrey’s nameday tourney looks more like gladitorial combat, an exhibition of lethal bloodsport for the king’s amusement. Joffrey revels in the fact that people are killed for his personal entertainment - people getting injured and killed is amusing to him. Indeed, any kind of abuse is amusing to him but he particularly enjoys causing Sansa pain, whether it is physical or emotional pain.

After a particularly lethal fight where a man dies, Joffrey goads Sansa for a response to the violence. Here we see Sansa tonelessly “parroting” Joffrey’s words back at him – a subtle form of passive resistance. She outwardly complies but refuses to express any kind of emotion. From Joffrey’s face it is clear that he finds Sansa’s icy politesse frustrating. He wants to revel in her fear but she doesn’t allows herself to show any feelings and neither does she talk back at him, which would give him an opportunity to have her punished.

However, things come to a head when on of the contestants, Ser Dontos, arrives late and drunk. Joffrey pounces on the opportunity to have another person abused for his personal entertainment by having his Kingsguard force wine down Donto’s throat. Sansa’s reaction is immediate and purely instinctive as she blurts out “You can’t!”. 

This kind of instinctual outburst is dangerous for her. The last time she impulsively contradicted Joffrey, she earned herself a beating. Joffrey reacts angrily to her outburst – as he doesn’t like to be told no.

Joffrey: What did you say? Did you say I can’t?

She quickly realizes her danger and tries to salvage the situation.

Sansa: I only meant it would be bad luck to kill a man on your nameday.

Joffrey: What kind of stupid peasant’s superstition…

Sandor Clegane: The girl is right. What a man sows on his nameday, he reaps all year.

Sansa’s attempt to appease Joffrey may not be particularly inventive and you could argue that it is only the Hound’s intervention that saves her from a beating. However, she does manage to stop the abuse of Dontos.

Joffrey: Take him away. I’ll have him killed tomorrow, the fool.

Sansa: He is a fool! You’re so clever to see it. He’ll make a much better fool than a knight. He doesn’t deserve the mercy of a quick death.

This is the most important part of this entire scene. At this point, Sansa has managed to save her own skin (with some help from the Hound). Most people would have kept silent (as does the rest of the courtiers). Yet Sansa does not avert her eyes or keep silent. Indeed, keeping silent would probably have been the less risky option for her at this point.

Instead, Sansa decides to try saving the life of Ser Dontos. She notices Joffrey calling Dontos a fool and she then proceeds to plant the notion in Joffrey’s head that making a knight a fool is a much more humiliating punishment than death. This is an impressive piece of quick thinking and subtle manipulation. Sansa strokes Joffrey’s ego and gets her way. She saves a life – and she does so at a certain risk to her own person because she could easily earned herself a beating if Joffrey had reacted aversely to her suggestion. Sansa is actually very brave here. Many people confuse bravery with fearlessness but that is not the case! You can only be truly brave when you’re doing something despite your fear! Sansa is sticking her neck out for a stranger, knowing full well that her intervention may backfire, which could end up with her getting hurt once again. Yet she still intervenes on behalf of Dontos.

Sansa is brave here and she is compassionate, which is a testament to her fundamentally kind nature – even in adversity.

Tyrion arrives. He extends his condolences to Sansa on the death of her father. We get a profile shot of Joffrey and Sansa; she opens her mouth in order to answer Tyrion. However, before Sansa gets to speak, Joffrey reacts badly once again and throws a strop.

Joffrey: Her loss? Her father was a confessed traitor.

Tyrion: But still her father. Surely, having so recently lost your own beloved father, you can sympathize.

Joffrey turns to Sansa to gauge her reaction to Tyrion’s words. She sits with her shoulders slightly hunched, which indicates her fear. Her response will most definitely influence her treatment by Joffrey so she calibrates her answer carefully.

Sansa: My father was a traitor. My mother and brother are traitors, too. I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey.

This particular line becomes a sort of litany for her during her time in King’s Landing, always delivered in a toneless voice. Anyone with half a brain can see that she is being disingenuous but Joffrey is both stupid and vicious. I would argue that this kind of performance constitutes a form of passive resistance on Sansa’s part. She knows she cannot speak her mind openly. It will only earn her a beating. However, whilst she is outwardly complying, her wooden “performance” makes it clear that she isn’t honest.  She is speaking under duress and anyone with a modicum of intelligence can see that. She makes a performance out of the duress she’s under and this is part of how she authors her resistance with the very means that she has at her disposal.

SCAPEGOAT

Sadly, Sansa is not always able to save herself from physical abuse. However, that doesn’t mean that she’s weak or stupid. Sometimes she is just helpless in a certain situation, like when Joffrey decides to use her as a scapegoat for Robb Stark’s military victories.

The crossbow scene in ep04 is just such a situation. Sansa’s brother Robb has won yet another victory over the Lannisters and Joffrey decides to vent his anger on his helpless hostage. Once again, Joffrey’s sadistic nature is on full display, only this time it is not disguised by a socially acceptable scenario such as the nameday tourney in ep01. 

The scenes begins with low-angle close-up of Joffrey aiming the crossbow directly at the camera. In cinema and television, the camera acts as the eye of the audience so in this shot we, the audience, are directly confronted with Joffrey’s threat of violence. We are, so to speak, on the receiving end of Joffrey’s malice here.

However, this shot is followed by a point-of-view shot from Joffrey’s position, showing the audience what he’s looking at: a blurry outline that quickly is resolved into the figure of a kneeling Sansa Stark. These two shots sets the stage for the following confrontation.

These kind of shots create a POV structure where the audience is invited to inhabit both positions. It is a bit unnerving in this particular instance since we are not only invited to step into Sansa’s shoes with the first, establishing shot but also into Joffrey’s shoes with the second POV shot. However, the first shot establishes the primary POV: that of Sansa Stark - under the threat of lethal violence and it most certainly her POV that we are expected to empathize with (especially since Joffrey is such a sadistic piece of shit).

Enraged by the Lannister losses on the battlefield, Joffrey has created a mockery of a “trial”, complete with Lancel Lannister spouting an absurd accusation of sorcery and cannibalism on the part of the Northern army. All of this is accompanied by the horrified gasps of the surrounding courtiers.

Joffrey: You are here to answer for your brother’s lastest treasons.

[...]

Joffrey: Ser Lancel, tell her of this outrage.

Lancel Lannister: Using some vile sorcery, your brother fell on Stafford Lannister with an army of wolves. Thousands of good men were butchered. After the slaughter, the Northmen feasted on the flesh of the slain.

Then Joffrey quite literally threatens to kill Sansa as a “message” to Robb Stark. Fortunately, Cersei still has some influence over him so instead he decides to “punish” Sansa by having his Kingsguard beat her up.

Joffrey: Killing you would send your brother a message. But my mother insists on keeping you alive. Stand. So we’ll have to send your brother a message some other way. 

Joffrey: Meryn. Leave her face. I like her pretty.

This is where things get really nasty. Sansa is literally being beaten up by a grown man wearing armour. She is punched in the stomach by a man wearing steel gauntlets and then beaten with the flat of a sword! Even that is not enough since Joffrey orders her stripped in public.

Joffrey: If you want Robb Stark to hear us, we’re going to have to speak louder.

This scene makes me recall a conversation between Eddard Stark and Jaime Lannister in season 1 where Jaime tells Ned that 500 hundred people stood silently by and watched Rickard and Brandon Stark die on the orders of King Aerys II. The present situation is not nearly as dire but the circumstances are rather similar: an audience stands silently by whilst a king has one of his knights abuse a teenage girl. Lancel Lannister can’t even bring himself to face the abuse that he himself has played a part in, as you can see in the picture below.

I’m also reminded of another scene from season 1 where Sansa raises the subject of the deaths of her grandfather and uncle to Septa Mordane, who doesn’t want to discuss such “unpleasant” subjects with her young charge.

Septa M: They were killed on the orders of King Aerys, commonly known as the Mad King.

Now another innocent Stark is tortured on the orders of a mad king in the very place where her close relatives were killed on the orders of a mad king. The spectre of Mad King Aerys is indeed invoked in this scene when Tyrion remonstrates with Joffrey.

Joffrey: You can’t talk to me like that. The king can do as he likes!

Tyrion: The Mad King did as he liked. Has your Uncle Jaime ever told you what happened to him?

Sansa is very fortunate that Tyrion intervened when he did because Ser Meryn Trant was about to use his sword on her again and it looks as though he was about to do her serious harm.

Many people often fail to realize exactly how dangerous Sansa’s situation really is in King’s Landing. Joffrey is both vicious and stupid. He detests Sansa and he is dangerously unpredictable. He could very easily have her killed in a fit of rage before anyone would be able to intervene. At present, he still listens to his mother on this particular subject but he might not continue to do so because he has such a volatile temper. Furthermore, a situation like this could very quickly spiral completely out of hand and Sansa might get seriously hurt or even killed. 

Neither should we minimize the severity if the physical abuse that Sansa suffers here. A grown man is beating up a teenage girl and he’s not pulling his punches. The book makes this abundantly clear:

Boros slammed a fist into Sansa's belly, driving the air out of her. When she doubled over, the knight grabbed her hair and drew his sword, and for one hideous instant she was certain he meant to open her throat. As he laid the flat of the blade across her thighs, she thought her legs might break from the force of the blow. Sansa screamed. Tears welled in her eyes. It will be over soon. She soon lost count of the blows. (ACoK, Sansa III)

When Tyrion escorts Sansa out of the throne room, she is both terrified and very likely in a lot of pain. Yet she schools her countenance so that she reveals neither pain nor fear. It might not be much but it IS a small act of passive resistance. They might abuse her body but she won’t let them kill her soul.

She uses her ladylike manners as her armour. Standing tall, she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin and leaves the place of her abuse and humiliation with all the grace and dignity of a queen. She cannot stop her abusers but neither can they deprive her of her dignity.

Joffrey absolutely hates that about her - he enjoys her pain and he wants to revel in her fear. Tyrion, on the other hand, seems rather impressed with her.

To be continued...

(GIFs not mine)

[the-firebird69]

Nuada Arianna they want you to sit there and repeat what's happening to me to me it's not sympathy anymore it's annoying as hell truthfully he's going to a prisoner me and you're saying they're doing this to you and they're doing that to you I said did I not give this report this morning that they're doing this and that to me or like 5 seconds ago I want to know what you're doing about it you can put in a basic way it's not revealing but for crying out loud I know it's happening to me I just reported it seconds ago it's actually.

Zues Hera

You don't need to hear this yes we do a lot of people are going around repeating what's happening to him and saying we see them doing this you see them doing that and we hear Thor and he says it and he's taking action and he tells him what he's doing he's just not telling everybody and we don't want to tell everybody so go up to him and you start harassing him and saying this is happening to this is happening to you and you don't do anything and sometimes Hera doesn't but she can't help it but she's not the offender some people around to keep doing it and doing it if our kind then mostly these people. It's a form of psychological torture that their administering onto our son over and over and over now he is under a mass amount of duress and pressure and he's trying to run this entire plan in war from here where all these people are bothering him every day with so many things that's ridiculous right now he's got a stomach problem a tummy ache gas he's trying to flush it out and people are bothering him so I'm telling you he needs healing and he doesn't need to sit there with Pepto 9 million times a day people are not helping him people are making his life harder we want to know why if it's our people but what he says is it's most likely these people who are feeding me things with sugar in it and onions and combining it and too many bananas and too much banana sugar and bananas tend to get black pretty quick and that they know that and that they've done it on purpose and that they like to bother me and threaten me and they think that it's going to help them with this very important maneuver where all of their ships are coming back to Earth and they're going to sit there and in fight over which ships land where and take over Earth first and then the solar system which is the proper way to do it and they knew it was and they were just doing that out there to force themselves to do this so we're tired of hearing it from him no this is the first time he said it but it is happening right now and he's very important to us and he pointed out a very important point is there infighting is covered and Thor said it tonight the 50% of them are gone their ships they still have 50% and they can effectively shield the Earth and we're screwed meaning we're in deep deep trouble we need tons of cover we need tons of ammo and we need it now so he's assigning me to go get rebel ships from them and have them take every damn s*** they have from your area in Europe I'm saying it to Uriel and to Poseidon and all of Asia to do the same and to Apollo and Thor I want you to review this and thank God for Arianna she is a fighter meaning not just a warrior but she's a mother and I want people to recognize that you don't have to be strictest warrior hold to the code of ancient blade welders because she's doing it out of love and she's not doing it out of being this ancient warrior is what it sounds like and I approve that I am an ancient warrior but for God's sakes I was asking for mercy and he turns around and says this is what we're going to do because it sounds right to him and he's done it before

Arrianna

And we agree we are ancient warriors but she was coming off as a mother and inside him is an instinct that kicked on in and he said this is what we're going to do and we're going to go to everybody and we're going to say we can sit here for a moment and listen to the thoughts and problems of our friends and it won't hurt us it's only going to help us and we're not going to turn people off and shut them out no matter how harsh situation is it's not a time to do that it's a time to help people and let them in and that's what he did when he was not feeling good and everyone's picking on him and she came along and as your mother to him like Hera does every day every few minutes. And it's not like we can understand what's going on here but she's the greatest to me my wife in there are things in life that I would never give up and she's one of them she's going to help us now

Nuada

And I'm on it and I'm ordering people to do it because they're just sitting there and they're going to take it like a man and think they're going to take over the towers and that's not going to fly I'm going to implement what we're doing here and incriminate him and because we hate them it's a great idea what I'm saying right now and I'm going to put forward that in the program

Arrianna

The foreigners have done this for years and some of them are these Norwegian dick heads who just sit there smiling and laughing at him because they're making fun of his way and what he does and calling him a jerk and a dick and all these other things thinking he'll lose no matter what so now we're going to take their stuff and I'm going to incriminate them and resisting because if they sit around and don't do anything they're going to sit there and get taken over and ruled over and they don't really rightly care that's what they're really saying and we do so they're going to fight or they're going to die who's going to make damn sure that they're the ones who look guilty and we have ways of grabbing their bodies and making them do stuff no matter what they say nobody can tell the empire is out to lunch besides they can't even scan to see it anyways so we're going to do this so we're going to take their ships we're going to organize a huge Force and start to go in and take over what we're going to ordering and he said this that they're going to invite and they're going to take over us and we're screwed just like you said to someone else beforehand to me so I don't ever and everyone in the original room and we're going to go over this again he's getting very abused there's something going on we're missing it we're not doing something and they know it and she's loyalist retards like his dad can't stand his dad does not want him back you're loyal to these pieces of crap you can easily take over and you could win and you could defeat my people possibly back then and you won't and these people pay with loyalty by putting you in the grave because there's a xenocidal in him and her and her all they want to do is kill other races and all of them and sitting here and you put this huge facade up for him and all the foreigners will die we actually do work and these idiots will have their way and they don't do any work and they just end up eating each other it's despicable he listened and he learned and said what can I do I said you're the son of all these races they'll listen to me and I'm not even their kind imagine so he did and he went to town and he figured out something that they love him as a son and they see him helping and they could not believe it that he was so strong and came out and said things to people that was really out of the norm not really often guard but it worked there's a very smart man and the quality of life in the living standard with them is much higher which means they're much dangerous more dangerous and that acts as much better and they don't harm people as much they just roll over you because they have skill and ability and the max rule over people by telling them what to do right now we have an opportunity to malign people who have been maligning us and berating us from right next to us causing us harm with a smile and is difficult at times to tell who they are this will expose them like we need and Ariana is Right and she is right and to put it forward and he's right to say it's her this is an amazing day and time and he's actually discovering these things too about ships and things like that that it will have a massive effect but I've seen it before he knows it works but I know it works in practice I'm putting it forward now

Thor Freya

Good luck telling the difference you bonehead Max you can't even tell who You Are or corky and you just piles and piles of a****** everything out of your mouth is jerk this jerk that this is going to be fun putting you down

[kudalyn]

I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT. Oh poor Atem my heart was already bleeding for the little bugger. I'm an absolute sap for self-doubting, self-bashing Atem for some reason. And THIS IS ME TOTALLY ASKING FOR MORE. How do Yugi and Atem become lovers? I bet Atem does some more self-angst stuff when he wakes up right? And how do they meet Jou and Ryou? What do they do make a living? What's their cover? So can Atem transform into multiple things or just Zorc-esque? Wahhhh so many questions.

Thank you for your patience!! I don’t always have the energy to answer messages right away so sorry this is late >w

A bit more chatlog copypaste and other stuff:

Atem and Yugi’s romance takes some time to fully bloom. They’ve had a mutual attraction for a long time, but many things (atem’s bad self-esteem and yugi’s hesitance) get in the way of it, and the stress of having to be on the lam doesn’t give much room for that to grow

a mutual deep respect and endless loyalty to each other, yes, but romance not so much. Plus Atem learning he’s a walking magic bomb and Yugi having to work double time in keeping the both of them cloaked while Atem’s untrained magical signature is a giant ass beacon of HEY COME GET ME doesn’t help atem’s self-image. 

They end up fleeing the country, moving to a more sparce and less magic-focused country that’s more of a neutral ground than anything, so it’s a bit safer for them to hide out in. They spend a lot of time, some months at least constantly on the move till they find a nondescript town deep in the middle of the neutral country and settle down in an abandoned shack in the surrounding forest. (they clean it up surprisingly well)

atem feels utterly disgraced and distraught that this happened and that yugi's putting himself in danger for him, and many times tries to convince yugi to go back and plead insanity or something. yugi refuses, saying he'll never leave atem alone again when he needs him so badly.

so atem does his best to learn quickly from yugi, but on-the-run teaching isn’t the most thorough way, though Atem does learn best being shown and when under duress/challenge. Its difficult because yugi's not experienced with teaching and atem's magic works differently than his. students usually get teachers that are more experienced with their specific type of magic for ease of teaching.

atem is a fast learner though, and stubborn as fuck, and learns well enough to be able to control his magic enough it's not a danger.  though it has different skills and uses than yugi's does. it gets to the point that it's dangerous for either of them to be seen as they are, and while yugi gets skilled at disguise magic, it's not in atem's skillset and disguising for two is very draining.

So, in a fit of crazyness (as yugi called it) and late night reading, atem gets a brilliant(?) idea. he tells yugi to make him his familiar

familiars are usually made between a non-human magical entity and a humanoid, and demons fall under that non-human entity category

and atem is a demon conduit. he thinks its brilliant! familiar owners can change their familiars form at will, familiars can hide in their owner's shadows, and the owners can forcefully command the familiar in dire situations. if atem ever loses it again (something he’s terrified of doing though while he has had some close calls he hasn’t had any relapses in his training) yugi can just tell him to stop! yugi thinks he's mad - familiar contracts are not only very binding, they've never been recorded happening between two humanoids, let alone a conduit, and demon familiar contracts are tricky and can backfire.

atem insists, he'd never set any contract lines that would hurt yugi, he's loyal as fuck, and he admits that if capable he'd willingly spend the rest of his life serving yugi. not exactly a declaration of love, but yugi understands what more or less what he means

yugi's overwhelmed, tells atem he needs to think on it. atem thinks he's fucked up in more ways than one, and they have a day or two of awkwardness but yugi eventually concedes, saying that while it is very clever, it is also very dangerous. but he wants atem to be safe, and he too wants to spend his life with atem - he just didn't see it ever happening like this. something atem gets depressed over momentarily before yugi snaps him out of it and says he will never regret making his decision to save atem

they make the contract, magical circle and all, and while the magic goes a bit dodgy for a bit, it ends up working out - but with the unrealized side effect of the two of them being able to speak/see each others thoughts via soul link

atem as an awakened demon conduit had always been hyper attuned to human's emotions and feelings, being able to smell and feel them himself, but this was a whole new step. and yugi not being alone in his head was very jarring

it puts a lot of stress on them, along with learning how the contract works - if yugi asks atem to do something, if he doesn't word it carefully it comes out as a command Atem is compelled to do forcefully

like 'atem, shut up' becomes literal even if it was meant jokingly.

he learns to use nicknames more often, but atem does enjoy the nickname yugi gave him as a kid so he doesn't mind, and he knows the command could be useful in a pinch (or bad for him if yugi is in danger and forces atem to leave, but he makes yugi swear he'd never do something like that - atem knows he's probably fibbing but its the best he can do)

another thing is atem learning to live in yugi's shadow if need be, but he hardly uses it, yugi usually transforms atem into a dark dark red cat with some gold stripes, so atem can sit on his shoulder as he goes out and about so yugi only has to disguise himself, and its easier to hide one person in a crowd instead of two

also in times like that the mental link comes in very handy, but it still takes time for them to learn how to block each other off from the others minds for privacy or other stuff. they eventually get comfortable enough being pretty open with their thoughts, but that takes a while.

-----

I’ve thought a bit on it and it’s a bit hard to decide, but I think what’ll happen is that while Anzu will be someone Yugi used to be friends with back at their old village and left behind sadly, Jou and Ryou will be two villagers living in the new town. they end up becoming friends, but friends with ‘not-Yugi’ or the disguise Yugi puts up when he goes to town. They know there’d be less of a chance of them being recognized in a different country, specially just Yugi on his own, but they don’t wanna risk it. 

I think eventually yugi and atem will reveal themselves when jou and ryou prove loyal friends, but it’d be some time before they do that. For the longest time, jou and ryou just think yugi’s this eccentric magic collector who talks far too much to his cat.

Yugi and atem will make some living doing small magic practices, ending up being mostly an apothecary than anything else because it’s simple and unobtrusive and living in the forest gives them lots of supplies. also people in this neutral country trust natural remedies a bit more than straight up magic, though yugi uses it while making any potions or poultices to make them more effective. Atem with his great memory and quick thinking ends up being a walking library, (not literally) devouring any book he comes across and collecting an even larger mental catalog than Yugi does. he swears his reading is just a past-time but yugi knows better. 

they do sometimes like small bounties or clearing out any dangerous magical critters from the surrounding area but they do it quietly and under disguise to keep things safe. 

One of Atem’s new skills turns out to be shape-shifting of some amount (separate from the shape-shifting that comes with his familiar status under Yugi)

Mainly he has to retain some sort of bipedal form, but he can add and retract wings, a tail, horns, scales and claws and other such details. He avoids anything hulking and monstrous like what Zorc forced him into in his awakening, choosing to always keep his human face and general form. His shapeshifting prerequisites are horns, claws, and some form of tail no matter how hard he tries to keep the tail from growing. That’s when his nub tail makes its most usual appearance, the shortest he can get away with (yugi loves it)

He can do some digitgrade-ness, or specific amplification like giant yaoi hand claws and stuff for offence if need be. he can’t like breathe fire or anything easily cause it requires more amplification to his body than he likes (his face/throat/chest) but if need be he’ll use it. The wings he’s never super fond of because he doesnt quite like the feel of multiple limbs he has to keep track of and coordinate, but Yugi convinces him to at least learn how to use them in case they ever need to use them. He’s glad that he can go without them. 

In any of his altered forms his speed and strength is greatly intensified, as are his senses. the more he allows himself to shift away from human the more intense his demonic urges are (aggression, hunger for magical power, general nasty emotions and urges) so he sticks to as human as possible at all times. When he’s loafing around at home with Yugi he’s rarely in any altered form unless he’s feeling in a particularly good mood (self-confident) and he allows himself to be more open. 

Also: Atem has a heck of a time trying to control his vices. His main one is gambling, though he manages to get his minor drinking problem under control with yugi’s help. Gambling is something that he just can’t seem to get rid of, but Yugi helps by setting safer stakes and bets for him to get his high off of, plus Yugi himself enjoys a good game and is a good opponent for Atem always.

So, I think this is the most of what I have so far for this au. I’d love to write it up one day, but it’ll have to wait ;v;

thank u for ur love!! feel free to ask me more stuff if you’re still curious, gives me more excuses to do worldbuilding. o/

[cheshiregrimmjow]

Read until the end, it will make sense...

The Color of Redemption, A Story of Hope as told by a former Nazi

My name is Karl Loeffler. I was raised in the German countryside, the only child of a Protestant pastor named Wagner and his wife, Liesel. From the time I was young, I dreamed of escaping rural life and becoming a city boy. I craved the excitement of Berlin, and I was determined that when I was old enough, I would make it there, somehow.

In my early teenage years, I began reading literature and listening to radio broadcasts from an enigmatic man who was gaining popularity all across my country.  A boy in my village introduced me to the patriotic message that this man brought, promising a better, brighter, and purer future for my country.  I was enraptured, as so many other youth were, by his passionate orations and compelling words.  So, at 19 years old, I joined the ranks of Hitler’s Youth.  

My parents were vehemently opposed to my choice.  They held very traditional views and refused to understand the obvious truth that people are not all equal. They even showed sympathy to the Jewish plague that was infesting our nation.  I broke all ties with them, and instead poured my heart and soul and energy into my new family.  

The war that was brewing for years finally erupted, and I joined the ranks of the military.  Early on, I distinguished myself as having a talent for extracting information, so I was quickly assigned as an interrogator. At a turning point in my career, I proved my unswerving loyalty when I turned in my own father, who I knew to be harboring Jews, to the Gestapo. After that, I was granted the position of chief interrogator at a high security prison in East Germany.  

One year later, a man arrived at that prison who would forever change my life.  His name was Raymond King – as British a Brit as could ever be found.  He was a pilot who had been shot down while delivering intelligence to his command. The letters with the precious information had been burned, but we had reason to believe that he had seen the contents before destroying them.  

Right away, I knew this was a man who would not give up his information easily.  Conventional means of interrogation would not work on him. I could tell from the defiant look in his eyes that no amount of physical duress would compel him to give up what he knew.  I probed him a bit with some psychological techniques, but without much luck.  There was something about him that intrigued me. His flinty eyes held a steady strength in them that I couldn’t help but admire. I decided to try an approach that I had never before employed.  I determined that I would befriend this man.

As with all good relationships, one must give in order to receive.  I found myself telling Raymond things about myself, many things.  They were all true, for he was clever enough to see through a deception.  In time, his animosity toward me lessened, and eventually we began to discourse more as equals than as enemies.  He knew that I was working him, but I was determined to play the long game out with him, and win him over.  

He shared with me his own history – how he had been orphaned as a young boy and raised in and out of group homes growing up.  He had finally been taken in by the Church, and was given a good education when it became apparent he was something of a prodigy, despite having sporadic schooling as a boy.  He was drafted out of college and joined the Royal Air Force at 17 years old - their youngest pilot.  I couldn’t help but be a little impressed by his story – though I suspected some of it had been embellished.  

Raymond began to delve deeper into my own story, asking me questions about my faith growing up, and why I had chosen Hitler instead of God.  I tried to make him understand the wisdom behind what we were trying to accomplish, that communism was the only good future for the world – but I am not a gifted speaker, and for all his intelligence, he had the stubbornness of a mule.

The first time he tried to escape, I caught him and turned him in.  He was beaten and left in the cooler for seven days.  It didn’t deter him in the least.  He kept trying to get away and he kept failing, and I found myself looking the other way when I knew he was attempting another run for the fence.

I don’t know when it happened – it crept up on me so slowly – but at some point I ceased to become an enemy playing the part of a friend to gain knowledge, and simply became his friend. Soon after, I received word that my father had been executed in a concentration camp not fifty miles from where I was assigned.  The news split my soul to the bone.  For the first time, I truly questioned the cost of my ideals.  I was responsible for his death; I might as well have pulled the trigger myself.  

I found myself confiding not in my Nazi comrades, but in Raymond.  His initial response at learning my part in the deed was anger, for which I could not blame him.  But he did not stop talking to me.  On the contrary, he spoke to me more and more often, speaking of forgiveness and redemption. At first, I did not think that I needed redemption.  Yes, I had something very wrong, but I had done it for a good cause.  But the more I tried to justify it to myself, the more I realized I was on a slippery slope straight to hell and I had only myself to blame for it.

Time passed and I became increasingly torn and agitated.  I felt as much a prisoner as Raymond truly was.  I was imprisoned by my choices.  I was imprisoned by my sins.  I was imprisoned by my guilt.  I could not escape the torment that gnawed at my soul day and night.  I could no longer perform my duties as I had before.  My superiors began to watch me closely, and I could sense that I was no longer considered an ally to my own kind.  And through it all, Raymond was there, calling me back to the faith of my childhood and caring for me as a person, despite my sins and the fact that we were still enemies.

One frigid December morning in 1944, I told Raymond that I wanted to escape with him to Britain.  I can still remember the look on his face. He wasn’t surprised in the least – it was as if he had been expecting this for some time.  It took several months of preparations, but eventually our opportunity presented itself and we escaped the prison.  We managed to sneak out of Germany via France, where Raymond was reunited with his countryman.  For my decision to defect from the Nazis, and for aiding in Raymond’s escape, I was granted citizenship in Britain.  Due to the injuries sustained when he was shot down, Raymond was medically discharged from the RAF, and I found myself in a new country and a new home.

I wish I could say that it was a happily ever after from there on – but that was not the case.  As a German, I was treated with disdain and distrust by many.  Very few knew I had been a Nazi, but it made little difference.  Beyond that, I was eaten up with guilt and self-loathing for the actions that I committed in the name of Hitler’s ambitions.  Let alone the fact that I was responsible for my father’s death, the information that I had extracted from many people (German and foreign alike) had led to the deaths of countless Jews and any of those who harbored them.  Military intelligence that I had ferreted out had led to the deaths of many more.  I was a murderer.  I was a bigot.  By my own hand I had executed prisoners and by my work had gotten many more killed.  The darkest part in my life was not when I was in the midst of my greatest sins, but after, when I understood the full weight and consequences of my actions.

But through it all, Raymond King never left my side.  He opened his home and his heart to me.  He stayed by my side and defended me before all who scorned me, even at the cost of his own reputation.  He unashamedly held me in the night when my nightmares woke us both from slumber.  He comforted me when I discovered that my mother had passed away, before I could find her and tell her how sorry I was. He reminded me of the faith my father had taught me. Jesus had died for my sins – even my sins – and forgiveness and redemption lay at His feet.  I repented.  I accepted that God could forgive me.  I even accepted that Raymond could forgive me.  And last of all, with the help of my truest friend whom I loved more than myself, I finally forgave Karl Loeffler.

I’ll never forget the words that Ray spoke to me that one morning as we shared a boring British breakfast in our little London flat.  

“Nothing will ever change what you’ve done, Karl.  Nothing will ever make up for it. You deserve to die for what you’ve done.”

And as I contemplated where he could possibly be going with this positive and inspirational speech, he continued.

“Living.  That’s harder than dying.  It’s braver.  Facing each day and deciding that instead of brushing off who you were or ignoring what you did, you acknowledge it.  You accept who you were and you decide who you will be today, and the next day, and the next.”

I just stared at him for a while.  His words struck a chord with me and I never forgot them.  Ray helped teach me many things over the years – like how to exchange my bitterness for compassion to all people, my pride and supremacy for humility, and my brokenness for hope. Jesus saved me, but Ray pointed the way to Him with his patience and kindness.  Ray showed me that the only way to live life to the fullest was to save what you love instead of fighting what you hate. 

Redemption is dark, muddy, and messy.  It’s red with the blood of those who paid its price in your stead.  It’s gray, when the darkness of your past begins to lift from your soul like a stain.  It’s the brightest, purest white, when you find that salvation doesn’t come through punishment, but through abundant life lived for the love of all people. 

*             *             *

The story above is a work of fiction.  Karl and Ray are fictional characters, though some of their experiences are based on the lives of actual historical figures.  I want to pose the readers who stuck with my story to the end a question:

At the end of the story, did you find yourself feeling a) satisfied and glad that Karl was able to find forgiveness and love with Ray or b) angry that Karl did not die the irredeemable bastard that he was?

If the latter, please feel free to disregard the rest of this post and I apologize for wasting your time.  If the former, you may now better understand the part of the Star Wars fandom who approves of the relationship between Rey and Kylo Ren/Ben Solo.  My story was meant to pattern itself after the progression of the Star Wars sequel trilogy.  Obviously, we do not know how the third movie will end, but many of us hope it will end similarly to the third act of my story. Those who ship Reylo do so because we are looking forward to that third act, not stopping at the first or second.  

In the first act of my story, Karl and Ray are enemies.  Karl interrogates Ray using several methods to try and discover what he knows.  While they are on opposite sides, and Karl is employing interrogation techniques that would be labeled as “abuse” in a domestic setting, Karl also has a begrudging respect for his prisoner.  The Force Awakens.

In the second act, Karl finds himself beginning to genuinely like Ray.  Though he thwarts Ray’s initial attempts at escape, he eventually finds himself looking the other way.  Finally, Karl’s attitude truly begins to change and he dares to believe that he can change.  Ray, likewise, begins to realize that Karl is a person in need of forgiveness. The Last Jedi.

In the third act, Karl makes the decision to join Ray.  This is what we hope to see in Episode IX.  We want to see Ben escape the prison of the First Order and return to the light, just as Karl did.  But we also acknowledge that this will not be easy to portray in one movie and it will take time to achieve.  

My story has an epilogue. Karl escapes with Ray and they make it to Britain in the third act.  But that is not the end.  It is only the beginning of Karl’s journey. He had to completely cast off the hate and the lies that had governed his life as a Nazi. He had to change his thinking and his heart.  He had to understand how evil he had been - to accept forgiveness and to eventually forgive himself for the lives he had ruined.  Only then could he begin to move forward, loving others instead of hating them.  Forgiveness and healing takes time, and we know that time is the greatest threat to us ever getting a “happy ending” for Ben Solo…because, quite frankly, it’s far easier to just kill him off, as Lucas did with Vader.

I could have ended it with Karl sacrificing himself for Ray to get behind enemy lines to the safety of his fellow countrymen.  And that would be an acceptable, if not rather tragic ending to their tale.  It wouldn’t be much of a kid’s story and most people would walk away feeling rather depressed.  Is that how Episode IX will end?  I surely hope not.  It would be an okay ending.  But Star Wars is traditionally a story of hope and redemption.  

I surely hope that Han and Luke and Leia, our beloved characters of old, will not have died in vain, only to see the last Skywalker die a young man (as a hero or a villain). Nor would we want to see Rey forced to survive without her other half, the man who taught her that no one is ever truly gone and hope can be found in the unlikeliest of people.  Whether they should end up as friends or lovers is up to you, and the answer is not necessary for it to be a beautiful story (which is why I left Karl and Ray’s relationship ambiguous).  But I hope you can all understand why we want an ending where they both live.  

Here’s to hoping Disney will do the brave thing, instead of the easy thing.  Cheers.