#but then there's also the 'your body is fundamentally broken' of it all so

[rainix13]

Don't Forget

Doubt by Twentyone Pilots

masterlist

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

words: 4,2k

description: after Y/N gets rescued from Hydra she's not really herself but Natasha's determined to bring her back -

Genre: idk you tell me?? ._. hurt/comfort ig??

Warnings: legal age difference (Nat= 32, R = 22) split personality?, not proofread

I'm not overly happy with everything but overall it's okay i guess (also It's 3am idk what I'm saying anymore, any corrections probably in the next few days)

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡⋆｡°✩｡⋆｡✮ ⋆ ˚｡⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You didn't know what was happening but you were sure something was.

There was a shift in the air. A tension lingering between the people around you. Something was off.

A red pop up on a monitor you could barely see blinking constantly but you couldn't read what it said.

You tried to hear the guards whisper but they were too far away. But even their usual composed, ice cold appearance seemed to crack a little. At least the three that seemed to be in their mind.

The fourth was a mystery to you. He barely moved all day, you never saw him even blink just once.

If such a thing was possible he didn't even hold any body language.

Scientists were packing a ton of stuff up.

Vials, some empty, some still filled.

Two of three monitors.

Tools, syringes, notes, official paperwork.

The door opened for a short moment. The blaring of people shouting, shots being fired, more people running around, a faint explosion filled the whole room for the mere two seconds, then it fell shut again.

Two more agents entered the room shouting some things you couldn't understand but next thing the whole scientist team got escorted through the backdoor.

Ok, so at least your instincts still work. Still you felt off. As if you were there but more as a watcher than on actual control of yourself. That feeling was new. It only came up a few minutes ago but you couldn't shake it. Something definitely was fundamentally off. Maybe-

You didn't get to finish that thought when suddenly the door got broken down. Three people stormed in, followed by a whole bunch of agents.

This time the door wasn't closed again and the blaring of a battle filled the room, accompanied with the smell of smoke and a cloud of dust.

Your eye caught a wave of red and your heart jumped. You didn't exactly know why. But it felt familiar. It felt right. You felt slipping deeper in the part of your mind that was only able to watch. Observe something but not work through it. The presence that formed normality for your time being here kept you from understanding.

One of the agents tore the straps open, which until now, you didn't even realize held you in place. Why were you strapped in a chair again?

It oddly looked like one of those dentist chairs...

"Don't just stand there, do something bitch!" He spoke with a hard accent.

Do something...? What exactly should you...do? Why would you fight these people? Who even are they? Being trapped between what seemed to be two independent minds you didn't know how to function.

And for a while you just stood there, in the middle of the room. Everything still felt like a movie, chaos all around you, agents coughing, some dying slower than others, new agents rushing in. And in the middle of it all? You.

That was until someone pulled on your arm, in the direction of the back door the scientist fled through.

Without realizing how you freed yourself, fighting the agent off.

"Let go of me", you hiss. "Y/N!!" the voice felt familiar but you couldn't put a face to it. Nonetheless it switched something inside you. You pushed the guy and he stayed still on the ground.

Another hand grabbed your arm and on instinct - even tho not sure from which side of your mind - you fought them off but this time it was harder.

You got countered more often, hits were harder to land. You kept fighting them, trying to escape their grip until suddenly everything went black.

Back at the compound Nick Fury was waiting for everyone to bring the youngest avenger back. And he wouldn't admit it openly but when they rolled out a stretcher some tension fell off him. It meant that at least you were alive.

"What happened?", he asked, not a single trace of emotions in his voice.

When Natasha didn't answer right away Steve did.

"We're not sure. She didn't seem quite like herself."

The Shield director raised an eyebrow "and that means?"

"It means she fought me when we tried to get her out. We had to hit her unconscious", Natasha snapped.

"But she fought them too. She's still there." Steve tried to soothe her but only received a more desperate than annoyed.

To add to Steve's resignation Fury chimed in "She's been there three weeks and we have no idea who of us she's gonna try and kill and who not."

"What are you trying to say?" Clint asked defensively.

"None of you will visit her until we're sure she's back." Without any further explanation he gave a sign to the two medics that stood at the stretcher to follow him with you.

For the Avengers? No other choice but to watch after you. They just stood there in silence, no one quite sure what to do with themselves.

The past three weeks were relentless work, trying to trace every detail that might give away your position. Now you were found. And they weren't even allowed near you anymore.

Tony stepped out of his suit and carefully put an arm around Nat's shoulder, pulling her into a side-hug.

With you and Natasha some tension always was in the air. Flirty but neither of you acted on it for a long time. You weren't dating for long but it made you happy. You, just living in your perfect little world, until it got ripped apart when they caught you.

Tony was the one who got you to join the team. Convinced you, welcomed you, comforted you when things got hard. He became a safe constant and over the course of four years he became a father figure to you.

With a deep sigh, again Steve broke the silence "When even Tony doesn't have some sarcastic remark or a joke to ease the tension..."

No trace of humor in his voice, not a glint of joy, just stating a fact.

Maria Hill stepped outside, clearly not happy, after what was probably a disagreement with her boss.

"There's nothing I can do for you. Go get some sleep, you all need it."

Short and to the point. Like everything that's been said.

Nonetheless she was right. Nobody has slept much, especially not Tony and Natasha so now that everything seemed to be done this was the only logical consequence and with that everyone slowly made their way to their room.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡⋆｡°✩

The next few days went in a blur for Natasha. She tried to stick to her old routine. Getting up, going on a run, breakfast, training, lunch. That's how far her routine went. After that she just didn't know what to do. Wherever she went something reminded her of you. She tried to convince Fury to change his mind about seeing you.

What she hated most was how everyone looked at her. How everyone seemed to see through her. As if her walls were made out of glass. As if they could see how worked up she was even though she made a point in acting normal. In giving the training courses she usually does, being as harsh and demanding as she always is. In the way she walked through the hallways, cold, calculated. Purposely avoiding the wing she wasn't allowed in right now.

Still they looked. As if they could see everything.

As if they could see how she still barely could sleep, how she couldn't look at anything without thinking of you, how every time she passes Fury in the hallway a passive anger boils up.

As if they could see how much she cares. How much she misses you.

As if they could see how scared she was to lose you forever.

The private area for just the avengers wasn't any more comfortable. Everyone tried to have normal days. Doing the things they usually do. But still everyone noticed the tension that didn't seem to fade.

The unknowing of how you are, the awareness of your missing laughter and your own sarcastic remarks. Everyone notices Natasha's bad mood and how she's being more reserved around them. Even Steve misses Tony's biting and teasing comments and while he throws one every once in a while, it just doesn't feel the same without someone who counters him just as sharply.

Right now Natasha was laying awake once again. Another evening. She excused herself from watching some movie and went to bed, so now she was staring at her ceiling. It was only 9 pm.

But laying there and having her thoughts running in circles wasn't an option tonight. With a sigh she put her sweatshirt over her sleep-shirt and made her way to the medical wing, avoiding the busy hallways.

The first thing she saw were mostly empty beds. The second was Dr. Cho.

"Where's Y/N?", Natasha asked. Her voice didn't hint at the emotional chaos in her head but it didn't need to. Dr. Cho was well aware of the flirting going on between you and even was rather surprised when she found out that the two of you weren't already dating for longer.

"Y/N is currently being held in cell 1.4 in this wing" Jarvis responded before the doctor could.

"Director's orders", was all she added clearly being uncomfortable with the situation.

"How is she?" Natasha's voice dropped to a dangerous level. She was furious and it brimmed just beneath the surface but she chose to prioritize you over Fury's bad decision making.

"She's doing ok so far. Vitals are stable but her mind isn't. Sometimes she speaks with us as herself but then suddenly she doesn't recognize us. We gave her some things that should help her gain stability and fight of who or whatever they implanted in her brain but it's going rough. Up until now she's the most stable when I or Agent Phil Coulson are around, he leaves only when he has to."

The redhead let out a humorless laugh.

"And did any of you think that maybe someone she's closer with might help her?"

Of course you were close with Phil. But she and her teammates were the people you spent every day with after all.

To her annoyance Dr. Cho shook her head.

"That's still out of question. Director's orders...again."

With a scoff Natasha left. Director's orders.

There was a point reached where she was done with her director's orders. Point reached.

And without another thought Natasha stood in front of the door that led to cells 1.3-1.6, guarded by two agents when the doors just opened and Coulson's stepped out.

"Natasha?"

"Phil."

"I guess it was only a matter of time until you show up here" the older agent sighed.

"I need to see her, Phil" It was a statement. Nothing more. No emotion, no arguments, just a statement.

"Why? You know the Director's orders."

God if she had to hear those words one more time she might go insane.

"I need to see her alive." Now this was beginning to sound like the negotiations of a kidnapping.

"She is alive, Natasha. You know that. Why do you think you can just walk in there if you have clear orders not to?" He wasn't backing down easily.

And the answer to that question laid on Natasha's tongue. It was simple. But she didn't want to say it out loud. But maybe she needed to sacrifice that at least towards Phil, if she wanted a real chance of convincing him to let her in.

"Go." The redhead orders the two agents watching the door. After a short nod of approval from Phil they did.

"Why?" Phil asked again now.

Natasha thought for a second before answering "They say she's unstable-" her voice broke off, eyes glued to the door.

And for a moment Phil got caught off guard. In all years of working with Natasha he'd only ever seen her facade crack a handful of times.

He sighed. "She's fighting, Natasha. Every minute. She's tired, barely sleeps but she's getting better. Slowly. Helen finished all possible tests and thinks we have now the right medication to help her as much as we can."

"I want to see her."

"Do you?", Phil finally met her eyes, "or do you want to know if she sees you? If she recognizes you?"

"Phil, please", Natasha pleaded. And at last he gave in. He stepped aside, opening the door. "Just be careful. You can see when she remembers you but the conversations don't last long. She's fighting."

With a nod Natasha walked past him and only stopped a second before the door could fall shut. "Thank you."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡⋆｡°✩

Carefully Natasha walked up to the only occupied glass cell and there you sat. Back towards her, crouched down in a corner. Your hands were behind your head, legs pulled up to your chest and she could see you picking your nails to a point where almost all were bloody and damaged.

Natasha's chest tightened and she barely kept herself from gasping audibly. You looked so small, so lost. Every few seconds your whole body flinched, causing you to shift just so slightly.

"Y/N...", the redhead whispered. She didn't know what to expect, she didn't even know what else to say.

But the moment your name left her mouth you completely stilled as if you were waiting for something. Natasha took that as a sign to try again.

"Y/N?"

You breath caught in your throat and you raised your head, your eyes finally leaving the ground beneath your legs.

And after what felt like eternity your eyes finally met hers. Looking up at her, your greyish green met her clear emerald eyes. "N-natasha?"

"Heyy", the older woman still whispered and got knelt down to be at your level. Her hand pressed against the glass as if she could touch you through it. Anything to feel closer to you.

"How are you keeping up? You remember me? And the team?" Maybe it was selfish to ask that but she already knew how you were doing aside from that and she didn't want to remind you.

But that seemed to only partially succeed as you subconsciously shifted a bit to the side, bringing only very few more centimeters of space between you and the glass, you and Natasha.

"I-I'm afraid I can't tell you that" your voice was shaky, hands trembling just enough for Natasha to notice. "I'm just not sure", you added shamefully.

"It's okay, don't worry about that", Natasha tried to soothe you.

Quiet whispers come up in the back of your mind. 'natasha, natasha, you need to forget her, natasha'

Those thoughts come and go, the voices never stop forever but right now you tried to focus on her. Because for once she seemed to be actually there. Not just a voice that will belong to no one once you open your eyes. Now, she was there, in person. And maybe you could remember her. You need to. You have a feeling that she's important to remember.

"I remember some things. Names, memories come and go like guests. But only fragments, not enough to create the whole picture"

'you will forget her, natasha-'

"Anything I can do to help you?"

"No...when I saw you a few memories swept into my mind, all together with your name...I don't think you can do much more" You sigh, the voices in the back of your head growing stronger. You know you need to fight them. That's what Hydra anchored in your brain and you need it gone. But the louder the voices get, the more you feel your control slipping.

'Black Widow, need to kill'

The endless cycle of the last few days and even though you're starting to be in control of your mind and yourself longer and longer, you start to grow tired. You just want it to finally end. But they grow louder and louder and you already know that you'll crash eventually.

Natasha noticed the sudden change as well. Your hands started trembling again, your breath became shorter.

'Betrayal, Forget, The End, Natasha'

"I could come in. Let you take my hands or braid my hair. You do that sometimes. Maybe it would-", she starts, wanting to calm you down but you interrupted her

"Natasha, no!" Your voice was low, dangerous and your eyes suddenly held something darker. You tried to keep up with yourself, tried to shut down the voices but with every second it got harder to dominate over Hydra's part of your mind.

"I'm not afraid of you", the redhead tried again. She already got up, walking to the numpad that unlocked your cell.

"BUT I AM!" You cried out. The voices grew louder and all you could do was grasping on the very last bit of being there. Like an almost invisible string that kept you in touch.

'Forget Black Widow, Betrayal, Kill, End'

You jumped up backing away from her.

Voices overlapped, so loud you couldn't bear it.

Someone was talking to you, you couldn't even tell the difference if it was the real Natasha or just another voice.

'Forget, Betrayal, Kill, End'

Natasha watched you pacing, your breath was ragged, hands in your hair. Your whole body was shaking and it broke Natasha's heart.

"Y/N please, listen to me. I'm here", tears filled her eyes. It physically hurt her to see you like that. So torn apart.

Your head was pounding against the palm of your hands, heart racing. You didn't even know where you were anymore and only felt slipping. Slipping away into the darkness. Where you could only watch yourself, screaming at your body without getting a reaction.

"Y/N, please...",

"STOP IT" your hand clashes into the glass wall.

Your eyes met the person who said something. Red hair, green eyes.

'Don't just stand there, do something'

Something seemed familiar.

You need to kill her. She's not supposed to be here.

'Don't just stand there, do something'

No, you don't want to kill her.

"Y/N..."

'Don't just stand there, do something'

And then everything went black.

Natasha could only watch as your body hit the ground with a loud thud. You didn't move, just laid in the middle of the cell.

The conversations never last long. That's what Coulson told her. She should've been prepared.

She needs to get out.

With that she left, the image of you losing the battle in your mind, collapsing, laying on the ground. All of it was burned in her brain.

She left the room, tried to sleep, went on her morning run. All she could think about was you. Everything she saw was a replay of the night. The fear in your eyes just before you lost, your scratched fingers. Nothing would make it go away.

Her own fear of you losing against Hydra's work, fear of you forgetting about her, about yourself, the fear of losing you entirely gnawed at her relentlessly.

And all she could do was watch herself. Force herself to go through her day and come back at night. She needed to see you again. The real you. And she would do anything to achieve that.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡⋆｡°✩

When she entered the room you were still asleep on the small bed in your cell.

As quiet as possible she unlocked the door and stepped inside, sitting down on the floor, right next to your head.

Groaning you opened your eyes. You don't even remember falling asleep after your last talk with Phil.

When you saw a familiar face next to you suddenly you were wide awake.

"Why are you in here??" Immediately you scooted to the other end of the bed, as far away from Natasha as possible.

The panic in your voice was unmistakable.

But this time Natasha didn't give in, this time she went after you, moving on your bed until she sat right in front of you.

"Hey, hey listen to me, okay? Just breathe, deep breaths", she took a deep breath in, clearly wanting you to follow her. And you did.

You repeated this a couple more times until you calmed down a bit. You gaze dropped down to see your hands in Natasha's and give it a gentle squeeze. An unspoken thanks.

"There she is. There's my favorite girl", Natasha says with a smile playing around here lips.

"I'm your favorite?" You asked, a careful smile playing around your lips as well. You knew the answer. Right now you did.

"Always been that way" she replied with a cheeky smile and you let out a small chuckle.

After a short pause the redhead added "I've missed you"

You didn't miss the vulnerability hidden behind those words. You didn't miss how she avoided your gaze for a second.

You just lean on her shoulder. "I've missed you too...but you can't be here Nat", you sighed.

"But I wanna be here. I'm not afraid of you"

"But I am, Nat." You argue softly, your eyes already filling up with tears.

Before she can interrupt you, you continue.

"You-you don't understand I-", Natasha squeezes your hands softly, encouraging you to continue.

"I- I'm scared of hurting you. When I'm not in control of...me the other part wants to kill you. I just don't know if I'll be able to hold back if I lose that control again."

Your tears start falling but you don't even care anymore.

"Every time I see my reflection in the glass I see what they did. I can practically see myself slipping away into that...space and I can't control it. And that scares me shitless. I'm laying here, staring at the ceiling and I don't know anything. I keep remembering more everyday but then at some point I spiral down in that fear and-and then I lose it again and that thing is back in control"

Now Natasha was actually speechless. She hates to see you so broken, so scared. So she just hugged you, choosing silence until you broke it once again.

"The uncertainty just kills me. The uncertainty of maybe I'll forget everything again. The uncertainty of when I might crash again or rather when it'll stop. Helen said it today should've been the last day but I just don't know. I'm afraid I'll forget you..."

Gently she reaches up to your face, tilting it so you have to look at her. "You won't forget me. You can doubt yourself all you want but I won't. Tony won't. He's upstairs, waiting for you to come back. Everyone is. And look at you. At us. You recognized me immediately when you saw me. You became more stable, right? That's what Helen told me this afternoon"

You nod carefully, letting her continue. "Maybe you just need to see the rest again. To ground you. Please. Come back to us"

You look at her hesitantly "What happens when I'm not me again?" You wanted to believe her that everything will turn out fine. But you don't want to hurt your family. Especially Nat.

"Please Y/N, trust yourself. And if you don't trust yourself, then trust me. I know we can manage this. You're not alone. And if you slip, I can protect us. Even if you can't stop yourself, you know that I can stop you."

Her eyes held nothing but honesty. Pure faith in you, full on trust.

"You guys are no good without me anyway, right?" you joke. Your voice was still hoarse from crying.

"Damn right, we aren't"

✮ ⋆ ˚｡⋆｡°✩

You didn't move back to normality instantly. But small steps are progress nonetheless.

So the next morning you went upstairs with Natasha for breakfast.

"You okay?" she asked, your hand in hers as she stood right in front of you.

You took a deep breath and nodded. "I am."

Just before she moved away you caught her wrist again "Tasha?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. I love you"

She chuckled pulling you in by your waist. "Of course. I love you too, princess"

You stood on tiptoes, giving her a quick kiss before pulling her gently towards the door.

It was early enough that no one would be around, Steve out on his run, the rest still asleep.

You didn't meet anyone except for Phil but it was a start. Familiarity. The feeling of another thing that could keep you grounded.

Next thing was dinner in the evening. Still unusual late but Tony ran into you.

He full on walked in on you and Natasha having pizza and for a second he just watched you. You, sitting there like teenagers having late-night pizza on a gaming night.

The moment you noticed him he full on launched on you, pulling you in the biggest dad-hug you ever received. "I missed you, kiddo"

And all you could do was cry and laugh, burying your face in his shoulder "I'm no kid, old man"

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡⋆｡°✩｡⋆｡✮ ⋆ ˚｡⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

[shhhsecretsideblog]

Denial

Co-written with the gorgeously talented @gravid-transluna Thanks so much for picking up this RP starter, so happy we’re collaborating and writing fics. I’m having a blast! 💜 [fpreg, 7.7k words, birth denial, clothing birth, public birth]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alex had a million and one things to do in the office before she went on maternity leave. The day was disappearing fast and she’d barely sat down; with back to back meetings, numerous phone calls, it was non-stop. It seemed her body wasn’t too keen on being pushed so hard this late in her pregnancy, if the constant braxton hicks were anything to go by, but she powered through assuring herself that she’d be resting soon. Just get through today.

The Exec waddles into the lift, heading to a meeting room a few floors below. The doors were just about to close before a young employee jumped in lightly after her. They stood in relative silence facing the exit, until the sudden screech of metal clanged all around them. The floor shook, jolting suddenly, and the lift was brought to an abrupt halt.

Alex’s curled hair swung around her face as she glanced at the tiny screen which usually displayed the floor level - it was now flashing a warning error image. “Eugh, is the lift broken?” Alex gruffed, annoyed.

“Looks like it.” The anxious looking subordinate replied, clearly worried and apprehensive at the thought of being trapped in here. “H-Have you got your phone with you?”

“Damn. No, it’s on my desk. You?” Alex asks, frustrated her pregnancy brain had struck again, making her forget something as fundamental as her phone. Seeing the other woman’s expression Alex quickly realised neither of them had a phone.

Thankfully the lights stayed on, but the metal box quickly started feeling too small. Another cramp rolls across Alex’s large, full-term, belly and she can’t help but grimace.

“Oof…mmmnghh….” A moan slipped out under her breath, she rubbed the side of her twinging bump as the other hand automatically reached to the wall of the elevator for stability. “Hooohooo… not now…” Alex whispered.

The other woman looked at her nervously.

Colleen had two fears: contained spaces and her boss, Alex. Unfortunately for her, she was trapped in with both of them today. Alex’s pregnant belly straining the buttons of her work blouse did nothing to diminish her fearsome personality; if anything motherhood had only made her more intimidating, still a commanding presence in a roomful of men even with a swollen, overdue baby belly hanging off her frame.

Worse, her boss seemed a little more than uncomfortable in this situation. She’d seen her bite receptionists’ heads off her a wrong coffee order, but still, seeing Alex wince and rub her belly, which seemed to have dropped even lower this week, she felt compelled to hesitantly ask, “Ma’am, is everything alright? I’m sure they’ll realize we’re in here eventually.”

Alex gave Colleen a quizzical look, but on seeing where her colleague's gaze was, she realised she was rubbing the right side of her large pregnant stomach. She stopped, letting her arm fall limp at her side.

“I’m fine,” Alex replied curtly. “I just don’t have time for this today.” She sighed and looked around the cramped space, what she was looking for she didn’t know, but there must be someway to get someone’s attention and get them out of there.

She knew she was cutting it fine; both by how late she was going on maternity leave but also with how much she was trying to cram in to her last day. Her feet were aching in her 3inch heels having been on her feet for most of the day, in meetings and presentations and walking around the office trying to make sure everyone in her team was well equipped to continue things during her absence. She was heading down to the third floor for her next meeting with the team leaders, that was if the lift hadn’t so inconveniently broken down.

“So you don’t have your phone on you or any method of communication at all?” Alex griped, asking her mousy employee yet again. Hoping the woman would miraculously have a way of contacting the security team or something.

The baby in her womb seemed just as uncomfortable as Alex in this small space, shifting and kicking harshly against her taught and stretched skin. His head was sitting so low in her pelvis it felt like her hips were being pulled apart. She’d be happy when this pregnancy was over, she was done playing host, she wanted her body back. Though she continued to dress in her staple pencil skirt, blouse and heels, pregnancy be damned.

Alex began to pace around the room, finding herself needing to move, shifting the aching from her hips. Another braxton hicks decided to add to her problems, she huffed under her breath and faced away from the doors into the corner, blowing out a silent exhale through the twisting pain.

Colleen could tell by the way that Alex’s gaze flicked over her that she probably only recognized her face by sight and not by name. She seemed impatient, which wasn’t unusual for such a busy, ambitious, work-minded woman, but there was something else in her impatience, an almost shifting restlessness that seemed to match the restless movements in her packed womb. The fabric of her blouse was almost see-through, stretched so thinly around her massive swell, and Colleen could observe visible ripples against the tight skin of her belly. She winced. Colleen wasn’t at an age where she had seriously considered children, but her respect for her boss had grown immensely, seeing her waddle around the office in her pencil skirt and blouse, seemingly as efficacious as ever.

Alex’s restlessness became even more pronounced when she turned away from Colleen, as though hiding her big belly and whatever was going on inside it.

“I don’t have my phone,” Colleen said helplessly, hoping it wouldn’t result in a chewing out. “I left it in my handbag on my chair.”

Alex let out a disgruntled sigh, half from annoyance at her staff’s serious lack of organisation - who goes anywhere without their phone anyway? - but also from the way in which this false contraction was starting to bite.

The practice pains had been a consistent thorn in her side all day and it was really starting to get on her nerves. She’d successfully managed to grin and bear it through this morning's presentation to the board but by lunchtime they were starting to take her breath away. Still, Alex carried on. There was just too much to do and not enough time. It was why she was working right up to her due date, not that she told the company that. They’d have forced her out weeks ago if they knew she’d technically passed her due day on Tuesday.

When the pains passed, Alex spun around and walked determinedly towards Colleen who appeared to brace herself for something. She always got a warped joy when they did that. Leaning past her employee, Alex began pressing buttons on the lift and found the emergency call button. “Let’s try this shall we.” Alex smirked at the hesitant Colleen. Unfortunately the emergency button did absolutely nothing at all.

“Umm,” Colleen scratched awkwardly at her neck, trying to disguise her growing panic. She didn’t like the idea of being trapped, but more so she knew as things continued to go wrong her boss’s mood would continue to sour, and didn’t want to remotely be in her vicinity when it did.

She tried not to look at the immense belly taking up most of her field of vision, though it was hard not to glance at it, especially when making eye contact with Alex was such a terrifying experience.

“We could shout for help?” Colleen suggested. “Maybe someone will hear us from whichever floor we’re on.”

“Eugh… if you want to shout then go ahead.” Alex dismissed, and continued back to her pacing around the small space.

They stayed in awkward silence, the only sounds were the clack-clack of Alex’s heels on the metal floor as she did loops around her section of the lift. She had one hand on her back, knuckles pushing into the base of her spine as it ached and spasmed. She’d managed to breathe her way through a few more of the annoying cramps but they were soon joined by a serious increase in pressure.

One particularly forceful twinge made her gasp and stop her pacing, one hand flying to the wall to lean against as the tightening got stronger and stronger and stronger. She couldn’t stop the low hum she made in her throat as the cramp continued its assault.

Colleen didn’t dare to open her mouth to shout, knowing she’d probably receive a dirty look and a complaint about a headache for her troubles. Instead she watched as her boss paced, again noting her restlessness and the hand bracing her curved, strained back as well as the hand constantly circling and resting on the broad shelf of her belly, as though to soothe the baby inside. This time, though, she noticed Alex’s walk, the way she waddled as though encumbered not only by the weight of her huge bump, but a pressure of sorts between her legs.

She more than suspected Braxton Hicks at this point, but her worst suspicions were confirmed when her boss finally leaned against the wall as though unable to support her own weight or trying to escape a deep pressure from her womb. She hummed, lowing as though she’d momentarily forgotten Colleen was there, absorbed with sensations from her pregnant body.

“Ma’am, are you okay?!” She stepped closer, hands spread like she didn’t know what to do with them. “You’re having a contraction, right. Oh god. Oh, this is so bad.”

Alex waved a hand away at the approaching colleague, keeping her at arm's length. “Don’t be ridiculous. Hoooo…. It’s nothing, it’s just a c-cramp that’s all… mnghhh…”

Her hand drifted lower and brushed along the underside of her stomach needing to try and find some way to ease the ache that was gnawing through her belly. She could feel her knees start to wobble and she breathed steadily, her weight supported by the wall, until it passed.

“See, it’s gone now. I’m fine.” Alex stated confidentially, her work facade firmly replaced. “Someone better get us out of here soon, I’m gonna bloody fire that security officer.” Alex muttered aloud.

She wanted to resume her pacing, her hips needed the constant movement, but her feet were far beyond protesting the high heels - they were downright screaming at her. Too exhausted to keep up every one of her professional fronts, Alex resigned herself to the comfort of bare feet and uncharacteristically kicked off her shoes.

Colleen nodded furiously at Alex’s dismissal of the pains. “Right! Of course, just a cramp. I shouldn’t have assumed anything.”

The young employee didn’t know much about pregnancy and birth, but she’d seen enough media about it to know that Alex closely resembled that of a woman in labor: the characteristically low, dropped belly, the consistent cramps, the restlessness. But…. that’d be impossible, right? There was no way she’d had the misfortune to be trapped in a lift with her boss of all people, and especially not an Alex in labor. That was not an encounter Colleen particularly wanted to be around.

She reassured herself. Even if those cramps coursing through Alex’s obviously overdue belly were labor pains, labor could take days, right? They couldn’t be stuck in here for more than thirty minutes, someone would absolutely notice Alex’s absence if not Colleen’s. She was too important to the company. Then, Colleen could get back to her emails and Alex could be sped off to the hospital or wherever she preferred to drop that kid.

These hopes wavered when Alex kicked off her shoes, pacing in her stockings. Colleen’s eyes widened. This was a ridiculously unprofessional move for Alex, she knew that for sure.

Without her black patent heels Alex shifted anxiously on flat swollen feet around the confined space, gradually feeling the temperature rise and the air thicken. There was no circulation in the small box, no air conditioning or fresh air coming through any gaps or vents. She could feel sweat start to dampen the back of her neck, her curled hair sticking to the tacky skin. She ran her fingers through her hair, arms stretching up and belly sticking out, picking up the ringlets from the back of her head and lifting them off her neck allowing some air to cool her overheated skin.

The Exec huffed an exhausted sigh. “How long do you reckon we’ve been in here?” Alex asked breathlessly to her subordinate.

She had given up on pacing and resorted to standing at the back of the lift and next to the metal railing that ran across the width of the back wall. Her hips swayed side to side, she breathed slow and deep, and occasionally would place a subtle hand on the railing for support.

The persistent braxton hicks were grating, chipping away at her resolve. It was probably just the confinement and heat, being stuck inside this metal box, but it felt like the intensity of the cramps were getting worse. She caught herself moaning under her breath when they struck, she tried to swallow the noise but it was never quick enough to remain totally silent. She wasn’t in the mood to field questions or concern from Colleen so she had to get those moans under control. Unfortunately for Alex, when the next contraction appeared it came on so suddenly she didn’t have time to prepare. The pain lanced across her stomach and Alex doubled over gasping, hands flying out and gripping the railing tight, an unusual groan rumbled from her throat.

Having watched her superior endure what were undeniably contractions at this point, Colleen’s concern had only multiplied. If she hadn’t been certain when Alex kicked off her heels (swollen, aching feet weren’t exactly uncommon in pregnancy, right?) or when sweat began to bead on her forehead in contrast to her usual inclement coolness (well, it is hot in here with no air conditioner, and she must be dying carrying around all that belly in such cramped quarters), there was not a doubt in Colleen’s mind when Alex clutched at the railing and moaned, low in her throat. It sounded so unlike Alex’s clipped, sharp tone. Almost animalistic, like something natural, a sudden instinct to vocalise as her belly contracted.

“Er—ma’am?” Colleen kept her distance, eyeing Alex’s heaving swell. “Are the, um, cramps getting stronger? They seem—well, they seem like they’re closer together too. Almost like—”

She didn’t dare say the word. Alex, she knew, didn’t like contradictions to what she said.

Instead she answered her boss’s previous question. “It’s probably been, oh I don’t know, maybe an hour or so?”

At the other woman’s panicked questions Alex managed to grit through her teeth a dismissive “… I’m fine!… mnghhh!” Alex tried to straighten up, to preserve appearances, and found she couldn’t - not while her muscles were still seizing. Instead another groan slipped from her mouth before she could clamp it shut.

“I-I think- they might be more than just cramps…” Alex panted as the worse seemed to fade away. “I think these m-might be… hoooo practice labour pains.” The Exec admitted hesitantly to her employee, removing one hand from the railing to circle around the heavy weight of her hanging bump.

She had a reputation to maintain, appearances to uphold, and Alex didn’t want to show any kind of weakness to anyone with an employee ID card. But as the waves continued she was forced to admit to her one companion she was indeed suffering from Braxton Hicks contractions. But that was fine, Colleen was only one person and after today she would be going on maternity leave and wouldn’t have to see anyone for months.

But this baby better quit practising for the main event soon. The false pains were aggressive and forceful, the weight of the baby’s head pressing so hard against her pelvis it felt like it was about to drop out any second. She hoped by the time they were rescued the baby and her body would have settled down. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

“They better get us out of here soon…” Alex breathed heavily and quietly. Then realising her company added “I’ve got a meeting at 4pm with the CEO.”

Colleen tried to keep her face neutral, even as her boss doubled over groaning, her belly tight around her middle. Alex’s thighs were wide in her pencil skirt and Colleen could tell by their restless shifting and the slight bending of Alex’s knees that she was feeling the urge to spread them even more, not quite a squat yet but unable to stand with any poise anymore. Inwardly, though, her thoughts were racing. Braxton Hicks weren’t powerful like this, were they? After all, if they had forced a woman like Alex into a panting dishevelled mess, they must be pretty strong.

‘Should I tell her it sounds like she’s having contractions?’ Colleen deliberated. By the minute, she could tell Alex was progressing into her labour. Even as she struggled to maintain her image her body was getting her ready for birth, and Colleen knew that even her boss’s willpower wouldn’t halt such a natural, primal process. Then again, if Alex wanted to be in denial, it wouldn’t make much of a difference. They still had to wait in this lift until rescuers showed up—Colleen might as well not lose her job on top of it.

Instead, she nodded again. “Yes, ma’am. Of course, practise pains. I’m sure they’ll subside before long. They’re supposed to be quite irregular.”

“Exactly… hoooo… I just need to ride them out. It’s fine. Hoooo…” Alex’s usually assertive voice sounded somewhat unsure. She didn’t like it.

Both hands returning to the railing, facing the wall, Alex found her weight shifting from hip to hip. Her stance was wide - when did that happen?- and her blouse was damp with sweat. The boss was grateful there was not a mirror in this lift, dreading to think what she looked like.

The false pains didn’t seem to be fading anymore, staying at a constant ache in her womb with agonising peaks shooting across her back and down her thighs. She prided herself on her ability to handle any challenge, but for the first time in her life she doubted her willpower to make it through. If this was practice labour she did not want to experience the real thing. Perhaps she should organise a c-section when she gets out of here.

The pressure in her pelvis was getting almost unbearable, and combined with the false contractions that continued to strike, she felt herself losing control of her autonomy. Her body was shifting and moving of its own accord and ghastly noises were coming from her mouth. Her hips were on fire, a weight pressing and splitting them apart. She bent over gripping the railing, flat back and hips shifting backwards. Her legs tried to stand further apart but were stopped by the tight fitting pencil skirt around her thighs. The groan that left her mouth was unrecognisable, like she was possessed. As the pressure built and built, she could feel an urgency sinking lower and lower. Before she knew it the sounds from her mouth had deepened, her heavy breathing ending with an animalistic grunt.

Colleen continued to observe as Alex made noises that she couldn’t even reconcile with the aloof, in-control Alex that she knew. Wide-eyed, she couldn’t stop staring as the laboring woman paced the tiny space. Her grunts, the way she hissed through her teeth, with every sound she appeared closer and closer to giving birth. Her waddle was pronounced, almost bowlegged as though there was a deep weight between her legs, forcing them apart and pulling her closer to a grounded position. ‘Holy shit,’ Colleen thought. ‘She’s about to drop her baby!’ She didn’t know a thing about midwifery or delivering a child. Much less delivering for a mother who refused to even admit she was in labor.

Colleen tried to track Alex’s contractions in her mind as they ramped up in both frequency and intensity, but found it hard without a watch or a way to tell time. Eventually she gave up, reassuring herself that the next stage of labor wasn’t yet upon them, and that unless Alex broke her waters the baby would remain inside her womb until they could call some paramedics. Still, she didn’t like the fact that Alex appeared to be losing her calm, composed self. Drenched in sweat, grunting and groaning through contractions, her body was obviously telling her it was time, and Colleen wondered if she’d even let her help if it came down to her pushing her kid out into her pantyhose or exposing her heavily pregnant self to a random colleague.

Alex’s grip on the railing tightened as she felt her legs start to tremble. Pressing her forehead against the cool metal wall, she released a shaky exhale. She couldn’t think… hell she could barely stand. Every part of her entire being was consumed and overwhelmed by the pressure and pain between her legs.

In some buried corner of her mind an instinct was telling her to get lower to the ground, to remove her skirt and tights, to open up her legs and hips. Alex fought against the idea, she’d already lost enough dignity trapped in this lift with some entry-level employee, she was not going to make it any worse. But when the next contraction struck, any fighting spirit she had seemed to evaporate.

“Ohhhh god!!!! Mnnnghhhh!” She groaned, long and deep, rocking herself forwards and backwards and clinging on to the only thing keeping her on two legs. “The pressure….. hoooooo…. There’s so much -mngh!- pressure!!! Mnngghhhhh!!!”

Her body sank back deep into her hips, knees dipping slightly in her tight pencil skirt and belly hanging to the ground, her backside swaying in the centre of the confined space. She could feel her muscles squeezing with the force of contraction, trying to do something. The baby dropped even lower and smashed through her cervix. She felt so full, the mass in her pelvis so heavy, and her body screamed at her to bear down.

“No…..” Alex cried aloud against nature's call. “No… don’t…” but her instincts took over and suddenly the mother-to-be was pushing.

“Ma’am!” Colleen cried, startled by such a stark display of utter abandonment from her boss. Her waters hadn’t yet broken. She couldn’t be pushing, could she?! Yet Alex was squat-standing and clutching the railing, the backs of her thighs trembling with an immense groaning effort. It sounded more forceful than just enduring the pains in her belly. It sounded as though Alex was actively doing something, putting in a hard, straining effort. Working with her body without a thought in her mind except birthing her baby. Between her spread thighs, Colleen could see the underside of her stomach, hanging low, uterus clenching her belly into a hard, tight ball. The way she bent her knees periodically, grunting uncontrollably each time… it was as though she was trying to force something low and heavy through her bottom. Everything about Alex seemed heavy, gravid.

She groaned again, and Colleen gasped, “Ma’am, are you pushing?! You can’t push, not yet!”

Tentatively, she placed her palm against Alex’s swaying lower back, curving with the weight of her belly. She began to rub and massage the tense muscles, not knowing what else she could do to help. The way Alex seemed consumed with birthing, Colleen didn’t think she even noticed her.

“Unnhhh- I’m not pushing! I’m not- ohhhhhhh- I’m not in labour damn it!!!” Alex’s staccato breaths carried her continued denial of what was happening to her body.

She gasped, breath holding in her lungs, and her body pushed again without instruction. Alex ignored the faint relief that was gained with the push, the satisfaction of the productive contraction, the moving of the baby as it neared its exit. But then the urgency faded, the contraction eventually dimmed, and Alex could think again. She had control again.

It was then she noticed the hands that were rubbing her lower back. Startled Alex abruptly stood upright and glared at the presumptuous woman beside her. “What on earth are you doing?” Alex sniped, waving an arm and shooing her away.

The nervous employee recoiled back and Alex shifted around the space again, both hands holding the large belly about to burst out the sweat-dampened blouse. “I am not in labour.” Alex repeated firmly, forcing the confidence as if willing it to be true. “I am not having this baby, and I don’t need your help.”

Colleen barely managed not to gape. Here Alex was, belly gleaming with sweat under her soaked blouse, contractions ramming her incessantly, curly hair damp and mussed in the heat of the lift. Her cheeks were splotchy and red with exertion and her chest was heaving, from the release of the contraction or from the force of her obvious pushing, Colleen couldn’t tell. All she did know was that her boss was actively bearing down, that much was clear. She would have thought anyone else was joking, but she didn’t think Alex had a sense of humor. She had to be in denial, Colleen concluded. To squat down and push like an animal like that, then brush off help like it was nothing—if nothing else, Alex certainly had willpower.

Of course, modesty and willpower goes out the window when you have a baby coming out of you, and from the noises and pushing grunts Alex had been making, it couldn’t be long now.

“I-I’m sorry,” Colleen stuttered. “Those…. practice cramps seemed so intense. You seemed like—well, like you were—“

Under Alex’s exhausted glare, Colleen faltered and trailed off.

“Uhh, I told you… I am not in labour- hoooo- I am fine!” Alex swallowed a moan before it slipped out her mouth. “When are they gonna bloody get us -mnnnnh!- outta here!” Standing by the lift doors Alex stared at the vertical line where the two sides of the sliding panels met, glaring at it willing them to open.

The weight of the baby’s head had started to press against her opening, Alex’s legs forced even wider apart with the sensitivity. Buried under layers of denial and facade, the unconscious sense of urgency had been joined by desperation and it was making its way to the surface.

Her fingers pulled at her blouse, freeing the thin satin from her skirt and letting it drape down from the significant curve of her belly. The pressure between her legs was beginning to return, Alex could feel it coming. Her arms lifted, hands palming the lift doors, and before she knew it she was banging on the metal to try and get the attention of someone outside this tin can.

The banging didn’t last long before Alex was stopped by the sheer force of the next contraction. Her fingers slowly slid down the lift door as her body crumpled in half over her tight, rock-solid belly. Double over she braced herself against the lift door, thighs widening and knees buckling in a semi-squat, and her body bore down with everything it had. Whether she wanted to or not every muscle was tense and squeezing, pushing the large round shape down down and out of her body. A rumbled grunt echoed from her lungs as she strained and pushed and contracted, and the heaviness between her legs started to burn.

Colleen was hyperventilating, barely able to register her own thoughts over the din of Alex’s furious pushing, grunts and groans erupting from her throat without pause or respite. The baby had to be coming soon, with how forcefully and urgently Alex was bearing down. Colleen’s mind swirled. As Alex pushed she took up the mantle of alerting any outsider to their situation, cupping her hands to her mouth and shouting over Alex’s uncontained moans.

“Help! Help us! We’re trapped in the lift and there’s a pregnant woman in here! She needs help, FAST!”

Alex’s voice rose to a deep bellow, trembling as though she was fighting an exhaustive battle against the baby inside her, bending her knees and opening her hips as wide as they could go in an attempt to drive it down and out. As her voice took on a higher, strained quality, Colleen began to suspect that something astonishing was taking place under her pencil skirt, that with all the pushing she’d been doing, the baby couldn’t possibly be very far from its only way out of her.

“Alex,” Colleen cried desperately. “What should I do?! I don’t know what to do!”

“You- mngh- don’t need to do anything cos mngh- I am not having this baby!” Alex grunted out, palms flat on the metal door, legs bent and wide beneath her skirt. “I am not in labour- hooo- I am not in labour…”

The exec panted the mantra over and over, fighting against her body’s urges to bear down. This baby was not being born in an elevator. She just had to breathe through the pains and she would be in the comfort and safety of a hospital soon, having a c-section damnit. That is what would be happening, not whatever the hell this woman was panicking about. Alex was in control, she always was in control, and the birth of her baby would be no different. She pushed herself off the doors and tried to move, to breathe through it, but the second she turned around her body doubled over and she gripped the railing to keep herself on two legs.

And then the burning got worse - the weight pressing lower, stretching apart her lips. The instinctual need to bear down was no longer a strong suggestion but a screaming demand. Alex was barely aware of her body’s actions anymore, she just wanted it all to stop. All she could do was gasp for air in between the bursts while her body forced the baby lower and lower - the head spreading her most intimate part around its giant surface. I will not have my baby here I will not have my baby here she chanted with every uncontrollable push.

Her thighs pulled the skirt as wide as it would go trying to make room, her whole body weight thrown forward as she leant over gripping the railing, arms locked and knees bent. But her hips weren’t wide enough, her body was too restricted by clothes, yet Alex was frozen to the spot as she grunted and roared with every wave. Soon the growling noise from deep in her throat turned into a pained whimper when the baby’s head pushed right through and fully crowned into her thong and stockings.

Colleen watched in horror as fluid suddenly spurted from between Alex’s thighs, soaking the floor of the elevator, filling the contained space with a musky, almost fertile scent. Alex shivered, lifting onto her toes as she gripped the railing. She looked as though her entire body was being pulled downward with the force of her descending baby. Her stockings were drenched—Colleen could scarcely believe the amount of fluid Alex’s body had let out, and it was still dripping and leaking from inside her skirt. She felt nauseous looking at the spreading puddle beneath Alex’s feet, and thought to herself, no doubt about it, there’s her waters. The release didn’t diminish Alex’s groaning efforts, though; if anything, the sudden breaking seemed to only renew her utter need to birth, nothing impeding or delaying its progress any more.

Except, of course—

Colleen gasped. “Ma’am—Alex—your skirt!”

Alex’s thighs trembled and quivered, spread so far that Colleen could see the hem of her skirt cutting into the flesh of her legs. She was trying to instinctively widen them, Colleen realized. She needed more space, even with them spread so far already, and Colleen could barely imagine the sheer size of the baby coming out of her boss. Then she didn’t have to imagine. As she watched, Alex’s skirt began to tent out slightly, tight against her backside as she doubled over, back flat. Whenever Alex grunted loudly, bending her legs and clutching the railing, the bulge in her skirt grew. That’s the head, Colleen thought, her own head spinning. My god, it’s enormous. It was a miracle they hadn’t been found yet from the noises Alex was making, letting loose guttural groans and roars that echoed in the enclosed space. Her entire face was twisted with effort, teeth clenched and eyes squeezed shut. All her strength was going into giving birth to her massive baby, but still, it didn’t seem to be enough, not with her skirt keeping her legs too narrow, her hips too closed. Alex’s skirt lifted and tented more and more, until it seemed to reach a peak. Alex’s voice slipped into a whimper and Colleen blinked, never having thought she’d hear Alex make such a vulnerable, sensitive sound. Then, Alex dropped into another hard push. The tent in the fabric stayed put.

“Your skirt,” Colleen said again, and hurriedly bent to pinch Alex’s skirt up. “Your skirt’s—“

From this angle she could finally see the crown, and drew in a breath. Her boss’s most intimate region was stretched and distended beyond recognition, lips taut around the huge head making its way out of her from behind her thong. The narrow strip of black fabric just contained the head’s huge circumference, cupping it tightly, barely allowing any more space for it to progress. Without room, Alex was stuck with a full crown between her legs, unable to push it out into her stockings.

With her boss barely able to speak anymore, Colleen made an executive decision. “I’m sorry, but we have to get this skirt off. Your baby’s coming, Alex. I can see the head! It’s coming out of you, and you need to let it, okay?! Come on, please listen to me.”

“No….unghhhh!” Alex mewled “I’m not having this baby… not here- ohhhhhhhh!”

The Exec had completely lost all semblance of control; doubled over, hanging onto the railing, legs wide and dipped as much as they could go. Alex couldn’t move. She hissed through her teeth, panting as her labia stretched thin, the baby sitting between her folds. But the baby couldn’t come now! It just can’t. She was at work for fucks sake! And worse, she was trapped in the lift. Real labour takes hours, days, there was no way she was pushing a baby out right now…

Her body argued against her thoughts as everything tightened and contracted once more. Gasping for air Alex tried to fight the muscles bearing down against the ridiculously large mass in her vagina, but panting through the pain didn’t do anything to stop the automatic pushing. Primal and animalistic noises left her mouth as her body pushed, her deep lowing reverberated off the walls.

Grunting at the end of each push, Alex tensed and strained, the instinct desperate to expel the child from her womb. But it wasn’t moving, slipping only the tiniest millimetre into her underwear. Heart racing Alex felt panicked - fighting hard against this birth and yet simultaneously trapped as the baby was stuck, held in by her tight stockings.

“Oh god!!!! Get it out- get it OUT!!!” She cried.

It was all too much; the burning, the fullness, the weight, the pressure. Alex collapsed under it all. She let go of the railing, legs shaking, and she clawed at the hem of her skirt trying to pull it higher, to give her hips more room. It was so tight, and her legs were so wide, her nails scraped across the surface of her stocking covered thighs as she gripped and pulled the black fabric of her skirt up towards her hips. But another wave crested and with it she was consumed by the need to bear down once more. Abandoning her skirt she held fast to the metal railing, her knees buckling trying to pull her down into a squat, but the pencil skirt creaked as the fabric stretched to its limits and she could only dip down slightly and push the baby against the strained clothing.

“I-it’s stuck!” Colleen stuttered. “The head is—” she raised her voice, tried to get through to Alex, but could barely even hear her own words over the almost-inhuman noises escaping from Alex’s throat as she fought desperately against the elastic of her thong, caught between the need to birth and the unyielding fabric of her stockings and the black fabric containing the massive head tightly in her vagina, shoving forward with powerful muscles as it wedged back inside her with just as much force.

She couldn’t open her legs any wider, Colleen saw. They shook violently as she threw back her head and let loose another deafening moan. From Alex’s furious face it was obvious that Colleen didn’t even register as a presence anymore, that the only thing in the world that Alex was thinking about in this moment was the head lodged between her tensed, opened lips.

Only when Alex started screaming that she needed it OUT, right now, was Colleen galvanised into action. She lowered from her crouch until she was kneeling between Alex’s legs. For a brief second, Colleen was in awe of the sight before her; the woman she’d known as a fearsome presence, a powerful executive, had been reduced to a groaning, sobbing mess, birthing into her skirt. Yet, this was her transformation into motherhood, and there was something powerful in that too.

“Alex,” Colleen said. “Alex, you have to stop pushing. I need to get your skirt down.”

She doubted Alex even heard her, but nonetheless she grappled with the clasp of Alex’s pencil skirt. The waistband was held taut by Alex’s widened legs as she tried to allow the baby to pass through, and Colleen was unable to undo the clasp.

“Shi-it,” she licked her teeth and then grabbed both ends of the waistband, pulling hard. The clasp tore off, and immediately the skirt loosened and sagged around Alex’s hips.

“Oohhhhhh… get-it-off-GET-IT-OFF!!” Alex yelled, feeling the tightness of the skirt loosen around her middle.

She had to push, she had to get this baby out now - location and present company be damned - the torturous stretching and excruciating pain had to stop. And Alex knew there was only way in which it would.

Her employee, whateverhernameis, was pulling the skirt over her widened hips and Alex squirmed and shifted with the fullness and desperation to bear down. When the skirt hit the floor Alex immediately stepped out of it and dropped down fully into a deep squat, roaring with the effort of another push. The woman was behind her, she thinks, but she barely notices… Alex’s arms stretch upwards, hands still gripping the railing, her body hanging off the support and almost swinging in her squat.

Her underwear and stockings were still covering her lower body but the freedom of being able to fully open her legs meant the baby could move further out. Alex pulled in a deep breath and bore down with everything she had. Silent in her efforts as all her focus went inward.

Part of her wanted to feel, to know how much of the baby was born and how much there was left to go, but she daren’t release her vice-like grip for fear of collapsing and losing her pushing position. She gasped, her throat scratched and raw, and clamped her teeth together and growled another push. The baby was coming, she could feel it slipping out and this time it wasn’t retreating. Harder and harder she leant into the push and finally the head popped out into her stockings. Alex sobbed with relief and collapsed back into her member of staff.

Colleen cried out in surprise as Alex fell back into her arms, leaning her entire body weight into them as though she had used up all of her strength, drained from pushing the huge head through her overstressed opening, and beneath her more fluid flooded the floor of the lift from the sudden release. Colleen gingerly caught her by the armpits, and Alex’s knees jackknifed apart, jutting upward as she lowered her bottom and hips beneath her, the head dangling between the apex of her thighs. She moaned, breathless, closing her eyes. Tear trails marked their way down her cheeks. Damp and shivering, with a baby hanging out of her, Alex was totally vulnerable to Colleen, hardly seeming to even notice her exposure or dependence on her.

Colleen couldn’t help but smile down at her superior as she swayed and panted in her arms. An hour ago, Colleen might have received a harsh glance for even brushing her fingers as she handed her a coffee. Now, she was holding her up while she prepared to push her baby into the world.

“Go on,” Colleen urged. “Feel the head. It’s out now. You’re almost there.”

“What? Hoooo… it-it’s out… the head?” Alex could barely catch her breath to form words, her full breasts heaving up and down on her belly as she gasped for air.

Somehow the mother-to-be was still upright in her squat but no longer holding the rail, somewhere in her mind she knew the other woman was quite literally holding her up to birth but Alex couldn’t bring herself to pay it any mind. Her only focus was her child emerging between her legs. With a trembling hand she placed a hand downwards and felt, through the sheer stockings, her baby’s head.

“Oh my god… hoooo… I’m having the baby…”

Through all the denial Alex’s brain struggled to compute what was happening. She had fought against it so fiercely, so vehemently, and yet very clearly beneath her fingertips was a baby’s head.

“My-my tights… I’m still wearing my tights?! Oh no… the baby…the tights are over his head… have to get them off!” Alex shifted awkwardly, unsteady in her movements but seemingly desperate to free her emerging child from the confines of her stockings.

“Hoooo…. Ohhhh no….” Alex suddenly whimpered. “Ohhhhhhh I n-need to p-push again…. No… need-tights-off…Don’t push… mnnghhhh…”

“Hold on,” Colleen muttered, working out the logistics of removing Alex’s stockings with her squatting and crowning a baby into them. She heard Alex’s hushed voice, articulating her primal urge to bear down once again.

“Just a moment,” Colleen said, crouching lower while supporting Alex’s labouring body, wrapping her thumbs around Alex’s waistline.

She was close enough to smell the subtle aroma of Alex’s deodorant and the natural odors of birth on her, and see the sweat beaded on her neck. She saw every one of Alex’s muscles tense, her tendons standing clear. Alex moaned, already in the forceful grips of another contraction. Her moan tightened and deepened, and Colleen had listened through enough of her contractions to know that she’d begun to push against her will.

“Alex! No pushing, just hold on a few more seconds,” Colleen said, frantically tugging the stockings down her waist and glutes. Unfortunately, Alex didn’t seem to have any more seconds in her.

“Ohhhh GOD,” she bellowed. “Oh, I’m PUSHINGGGG!” She bore down relentlessly, and Colleen saw the head give a surge against the tight fabric.

Colleen cursed again. Between the baby being squeezed into the stretching fabric and Alex’s parted thighs and widespread knees, there was no way Colleen could even slide the stockings past her crotch. Which meant she couldn’t access Alex’s underwear either. The tent grew and shoved down toward the floor impossibly as Alex sank into her push.

Hopefully, she won’t be too mad about this, Colleen thought, then she seized fistfuls of fabric and tore, ripping a seam large enough for the head. Then she looped her finger around the thong and quickly pulled it to the side.

‘Okay! Okay, I think it’s free!” Colleen announced.

“Ohhhh fuck!!!! It’s coming outtt!!!” Alex cried, gasping a desperate breath in between her body’s involuntary pushing and she felt the burning ring return.

A deep and gravelled roar rattled her throat as the shoulders stretched her sore and sensitive lips. Her baby… it was coming out… in the elevator at work! She couldn’t quite believe what was happening. Gripping her knees she fully leant into the contraction, using every bit of it as her hips sank towards the floor and her muscles pushed.

Suddenly she yelped and jolted in Colleen’s arms as one shoulder slipped free and Alex quickly and instinctively let go of her knees to put both hands between her spread thighs. The baby’s head and neck were in her uncertain hands and she grunted, low and long, desperately calling on every ounce of strength she had left to get the infant out.

With a roar-turned-wail Alex cried out as the baby slipped from her body and shot into her waiting hands.

Up. She had to bring him up, had to hold him. In a fraction of a heartbeat Alex had pulled the baby from between her legs and held the slippery newborn against her chest.

“Y-you’re h-here… oh baby… you’re here…” Alex sobbed, wiping the blood and fluids from his face. It was scrunched and red, eyes not yet open, his body curled up tight. Then his fists pushed against her breast, legs kicking and discovering new sensations, and the little bundle let out a high-pitch cry as he opened his eyes.

Colleen let Alex slip from her arms to the elevator floor, cupping her baby gently in her arms and murmuring softly. She rocked slightly, and even in the enclosed space it seemed to Colleen as though Alex was in her own world, far away from anyone or anything else. She backed away, allowing Alex her moment to meet the child she’d worked so hard to carry and birth. She didn’t think she’d be able to see Alex as she had before, the untouchable executive. Instead, she’d witnessed Alex’s most intimate, vulnerable moment, even helped her through it. She smiled to herself and Alex cooed, her face close to the baby at her breast.

The quiet peace of the lift was disrupted by a banging on the metal ceiling.

“Hey—! Is someone in here? And, is that a baby crying?!”

Colleen met eyes with Alex, and laughed weakly. “I don’t suppose this qualifies for a promotion, does it?”

[violentlilies]

You know how my HC is that during the Imperium secundus arc Konrad’s mental state is deteriorating to the point that his physicality is falling apart. Not just in terms of him appearance but also in terms of containing his warp spirit.

The veil between the warp-being he is and his physicality grew so thin that sometimes he doesn’t look fully “human” anymore, but people can see his true form, or at least his true form bleeding into his human one. Think of it like he’s glitching. His being is falling apart. The warp-form bleeding out of his body, it’s shell deprecating.

When Guilliman’s mom is facing him she sees a “being of smoke and shadow”. He’s described as “smoke and shadow” on multiple accounts - it seems to be his true warp form.

If you want a visual reference look up Gandalf vs sauron from the hobbit, sauron is also an entity who can take human form but in a weakened state appears in his spirit form of smoke and shadow.

Imagine it like seeing a demon thru their human disguise. Something’s off.

40k fans mistake warp forms for physical monsters. Corax isn’t a “raven monster”, he’s also an apparition of smoke and shadow that can take physical shape. This process is flawed in Curze as he falls apart so he can’t fully take a purely human shape all the time anymore. It’s inconsistent, sometimes more or less warp, but it’s there. The best way I can describe it is “his human shell is leaky”

Curze in his last arc is like a robot that still works and walks around but it’s leaking oil, it’s screws are loosened, parts rusted, internal workings misfiring, some cables broken, pieces falling off, voice system glitching, the computer running out of battery and misfiring from water damage

Walking around while trying to hold your internal organs from falling out because your skin keeps breaking and rotting apart.

His physical body is breaking apart on every level, including fundamental.

Imagine being poor Tarasha cowering in the corner, and seeing a giant apparition walk towards you that has a human shape but surrounded by smoke and shadow, the human shape seeming more like a skin or mask then a real body, being able to see the being wearing it, trying to hold it from falling off, moving oddly, sounding odd, otherworldly, you can feel the endless darkness and evil emanating off it like a black hole - 

There’s this deep realization that you’re not talking to the face you see, this isn’t a human being, these are powers beyond you, this is evil and malice beyond you.

It’s like in terminator when the terminator’s human skin suit is melting / breaking off in places - that’s the vibe I’m thinking, but instead of a metal robot it’s a dark warp spirit

I can imagine to other primarchs it isn’t that big of a deal to notice it but to a human… seeing a healthy normal primarch is already overwhelming and terrifying, add on top of that seeing a healthy Konrad is even scarier because of his features but seeing Konrad as “clearly a warp demon in a skinsuit” must be the scariest thing imaginable

[burningcheese-merchant]

Can you do a Yan! Burning Spice x Golden Cheese one-shot?

It's okay if you don't want to.

I was going to save this for a later date (and also direct you to my fics on AO3, there's plenty of Yandere Spice in those lol)... BUT SINCE DEVSISTERS DECIDED TO JUST GO AHEAD AND DUMP SOME QUALITY MATERIAL INTO MY LAP, I'LL TAKE THE COSMIC HINT AND DO IT TODAY! This one's for you, Anon! You can thank that extremely suspicious trailer for this!

"Mine Forever More" - BurningCheese Short Story #5

WARNING: This is one-sided BurningCheese/GoldenSpice, with Obsessive, Possessive, Yandere-esque Burning Spice. This is not like the other wholesome shorts with the budding romance and cute bickering, Burning Spice is a sick and dangerous man in this one. I politely demand that only adults read this one, please and thank you.

Cold... Why is it cold...? Cold and damp... Where...?

Both light and shadow flickered and danced across Golden Cheese's vision as she struggled to remain conscious. She was... being carried. Someone had peeled her off of the ground, plucked her from the blood-soaked dirt in which she lay beaten and broken, and cradled her in their arms as they ventured away from the cliff and off... somewhere. Somewhere... dark. Dark and cold and damp. A far cry from what she'd come to understand this strange place to be.

Someone... No. She knew who it was. She recognized the strong chest her head was being held against. The thick, powerful, tattooed arms enveloping her body, holding her close to his own. Though she couldn't see his face, she nevertheless sensed his fiery eyes staring down at her. Devouring her. Swallowing her whole.

"You disappoint me, little thief," Burning Spice told her. He spoke quietly, with chilling calm; his words were meant for her and no one else. "I expected better from you."

She did not respond. She wouldn't, even if she could. Even if that wretched taste of iron didn't fill her mouth so completely and the skin and flesh of her back weren't on fire.

"I waited for this. For you. For such a long time... You are not weak. You know this, and so do I. Destiny finally arrives for us both... and you choose to turn it away. You devastate me, little thief. Truly."

There was less vitriol in his voice than she imagined there would be. From screaming bloody murder right into her face as she dangled from a cliff, to... murmuring to her with such... disappointment, for lack of a better term. Sadness, even, if she dared to read into it any further. Perhaps she'd underestimated his... investment in their duel, after all.

"You're lucky..." he told her. "You are very lucky I care for you. You were wise to have stolen my heart as well as my Soul Jam all those eons ago. I would have drawn and quartered you otherwise."

"Care... for me?" Her voice came as a pained rasp, rising from an aching throat and forcing itself through bloodied lips. "Stolen... your... what...?"

"Of course I do," Burning Spice said - so simply, as if it was a fundamental truth of the world. "Would I have dedicated so much of myself to you if I did not? To hunting you? To our battle? Do you think you would be here now, safe in my arms as I carry you to your shelter, if I did not care for you?"

"Shelter...?"

At the cost of a worsened migraine, Golden Cheese opened her eyes wider and focused, scanning her surroundings the best she could. Torches hanging on the walls - the only true sources of light, as far as she could tell. A long, dark corridor. Walls of cool, jagged rock, all dyed deep blues and purples and reds. Dark. Cold. Damp.

A cave... No. Worse. A dungeon.

"Of course," Burning Spice said again. "It wouldn't do to leave you by the cliff, now would it?"

"But-" She coughed harshly. Little droplets of blood splattered onto Burning Spice's chest. She felt him tense instantly, his grip on her tightening. He held her up higher, bringer her head closer to his face... and she felt him lean down and... nuzzle his face into her hair...?

"Hush," he murmured. "We're almost there."

She did not hush. "Why..." Another harsh cough. Another tight, instinctive squeeze that accidentally (or was it?) agitated her aching wounds. Something wet and surprisingly soft pressing into her forehead. A gesture she knew of, one meant to be comforting... but how could he give this to her? Why?

"W-why... why didn't you kill me?" she finally managed to get out. "I don't... understand... Not... like you."

"'Not like you'? You claim to know me so well, pretty bird? I'm flattered." She could hear the teasing smile he wore as he spoke. It made her head ache more. "But if that was true, then you would know why I didn't kill you."

She shook her head weakly. He chuckled.

"What would I get out of killing my beloved?" he told her. "You are the woman I've been waiting for. It was you and your image that kept me alive and sane in that prison. That unspoken promise of a great duel, a struggle for power between me and my other half... I am sorely disappointed in your embarrassing loss, my little thief, but not even that is enough to make me want to kill you."

Beloved? Other half? What in the world?

"No... I simply want you, little thief. I wanted our battle. I wanted your eventual defeat. I wanted my Soul Jam... but I want you, too. Desperately."

He was smiling at her. Grinning. Sharp teeth glinting in the torchlight. A starving predator, ogling his captured prey.

"I hunger for you, Golden Cheese," he whispered to her. "I craved you from the moment I laid my eyes upon this pretty face of yours. I waited ages for this moment... for the day we could be together at last." He brought a hand to her pretty face, caressing her cheek with startling gentleness. "And you look so beautiful," he purred. "So stunning, even like this... I can see why they called you 'Your Radiance'."

The words 'Your Radiance' made her suddenly jerk up, eyes wide. "M-my treasures," she stuttered. "My kingdom, my- my p-people- I- I must-"

"Ah ah." The loving hand on her cheek quickly morphed into a punishing one, reaching up and yanking hard on her hair, earning Burning Spice a wince and a soft cry of pain. "No more of that," he growled. "No more of them. No more of your so-called treasures. They're gone. Crumbled to dust. It's time you make peace with that, little bird."

"N-no," she said, turning her head just enough to be able to shoot him a weak glare. "Nonsense. They... they're here. They're mine. I... I'll never let you..."

She paused. Suddenly, her eyes widened again. "Smoked Cheese," she said, her face now frantic. "W-where is he? What did you do- mmph!"

Now that hand was clasped over her mouth, silencing her. Squeezing her face, digging its sharp nails into her cheeks.

"Be quiet," Burning Spice hissed at her. "Your precious little pet is following along behind us, chained up by the spice warriors."

He saw her gaze soften. Felt her shoulders sag, if only the slightest bit. She was relieved.

He hated it.

"Why do you still cling to your little possessions?" he asked. "To these worthless creatures? Those hero friends of yours, where are they now? Where were they, when I took your wings from you? Where were they when your precious kingdom fell? Hm?"

She couldn't answer; not with that large hand still covering her mouth. But the pain and sorrow that briefly flashed in her eyes was answer enough for him.

"I am here," he told her. "I have always been here. Through our Soul Jam in the past, and now standing beside you in the present. In the aftermath of your near-death. Is Smoked Cheese cradling you in his arms while you can't stand on your own? Is Smoked Cheese graciously taking you into his house and home? Is Smoked Cheese willing to look past this act of grand larceny and keep you by his side, for he's come to value you just as much as what you stole from him?"

The visceral hatred that dripped from Smoked Cheese's name made her wince. She tried to lift her head again, aiming to peek over Burning Spice's shoulder and at her old friend - but that hand forced her head back down the moment she did so.

"I will make you see," Burning Spice said. "You're a clever woman. You will understand eventually. None of this matters. None of it! My way is the only way that's fair. That's interesting! You will see it, when I raze this miserable world to the ground."

He stopped walking. He finally pulled his hand away, letting her suck in a breath. The air tasted slightly less stale in this spot. A pale light shone in the corner of her eye- from a hole in the ceiling far above, she eventually saw.

This one beam of light, trapped behind thick, iron bars.

Burning Spice stepped aside and allowed the soldiers behind him to take his place before the cell door. It was open with the swift insertion of a key; the loud, shrill screech that came as it scraped along the ground rang in her ears. She saw Smoked Cheese - hurt, but still alive - being ushered into the cell and forced to the ground wordlessly. His eyes were downcast, his mouth set in a deep, tired frown.

"You look displeased," Burning Spice cooed. "I'm well aware of your high standards, greedy bird, but this nest will have to do for now."

She shot another glare at him. Stronger than the last. Had the sight of her friend invigorated her?

"Don't fret, though," he continued. The corners of his lips curled into a sultry, sinister smile. "It won't always be this way."

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. What he said next nearly stopped her heart.

"When you recover," he whispered, "I'll bring you to my bed."

So hard and frantic was the roar of her pulse in her ears that she hardly even registered when Burning Spice commanded the soldiers to leave. They did so with a bow; and as they disappeared into the shadows, Burning Spice stepped into the cell and knelt down, holding Golden Cheese in his lap.

"Look at me. Hear my words."

Against her better judgment, she did just that.

"When I'm done with you," he said, "I will wipe everything you ever held dear off the face of the earth."

At this, she tensed up (how enticing to his senses it was, to feel her muscles clench in his grasp). She gave him the harshest look she could muster - and he let her do so, offering a look of smug endearment in return.

"You... will not crush MY treasures," she spat out.

He chuckled. "We'll see about that." Then he leaned down and crushed their lips together.

Burning Spice heard a sharp gasp off somewhere beside him; he looked up and saw Smoked Cheese watching them, his eyes wide and mouth agape. Frozen in place, powerless to save his beloved queen. With or without the chains binding him.

Good.

The corners of Burning Spice's mouth once again curled into a dark smile, and he stared right back at the hooded prisoner as he deepened his and Golden Cheese's kiss. The only resistance she offered came in the form of nails digging into his arm and a gasp as he lapped up the blood on her lips and forced his tongue past them, into her warm, sweet mouth. She tasted delicious. Just as he always knew she would.

When he eventually pulled back, a thin rope of bloody saliva still tethered his tongue to hers. How he hated seeing it break when he put enough distance between them... but it was alright. There will be more opportunities. They had so much lost time to make up for, after all.

"Consider that my payment for allowing this worm to live," he said to her, gesturing dismissively at Smoked Cheese. "And know that I will keep tally of every single day that he continues to do so, and celebrate when he no longer does."

At last, he laid her onto the ground. Slowly. Gently. His final act of mercy on her. On his beaten, broken, beloved Soul Jam thief.

"Sleep well, birdie," he said as he rose to his feet. With a quick heel-turn, he was out of the cell and slamming the door shut. Back to the darkness he returned, out of sight of them both.

"Your Majesty!" Smoked Cheese called to her frantically, finally regaining some of his dignity and willpower and rushing towards her. He knelt down beside her, trembling hands hovering just above her shoulders. "Your Majesty, speak to me!"

She did not. She was beginning to struggle to even parse his words. Exhaustion was taking hold of her at long last.

"What was that?! Why- why did he do that to you?! What nonsense is all of this?!"

She used the last of her strength to grasp at her headdress - at her Soul Jam. Gone. The headdress felt dull and cold. The socket was long empty. When had Burning Spice taken it? How could she have not noticed?

"Your Majesty, you must stay awake. We need to plan our escape. The Beast has gotten hold of the Soul Jam, we must take it back immediately!"

The room looked foggy. Smoked Cheese's features blurred. The light shining down on them began to dim.

"Your Majesty? Your Majesty! Golden Cheese!"

The pain and exhaustion became too much, and Golden Cheese's eyes closed, her mind giving way to dizzying blackness.

--------------------

Burning Spice threatened to kill Golden Cheese in front of him if Smoked Cheese made the slightest noise while they journeyed to the prison cell. He was bluffing, of course; he'd never allow his precious golden thief to die. But Smoked Cheese didn't know that. Nor did he need to.

[nottobehornyonthemain]

Ok, it’s actually very simple.

Will is the protagonist, but he is not the hero.

Jack Crawford is the hero and he is fundamentally good.

Jack Crawford’s enemy is Hannibal Lecter, but he doesn’t know that because he thinks his enemy is the Chesapeake Ripper.

Hannibal is not always the Chesapeake Ripper, but no one else is allowed to be, because to take someone else’s place is Rude.

Bedelia DuMauier is not Rude by Hannibal’s standards, so she believes herself safe, and she is until she takes Will Graham’s place, then she joins Randell Tier and Francis Dolerhyde, in making Will Graham feel as though he is not Unique, then she is fair game to be hunted.

Hunting is different from fishing because the concepts of Stalk vs Lure.

Garrett Jacob Hobbs is a Stalk, and Will kills him as such despite the fact that Will is actually a Lure, but so is Abigail. Will is god, but not Jesus, except for when he’s Abigail. Hannibal is the Devil except for when he’s god.

Alana and Abigail both make deals with the Devil, which they know will eventually lead to their deaths, but Alana isn’t divine, she is always human, so Hannibal looks more human when she’s with him, but Will looks less human when she’s with him because she accentuates where he fails.

Will is a dog, but he isn’t a dog at all, he’s a wolf.

Margot is a horse but she isn’t allowed to run free until she’s a human, but she is not divine, nor is she good or evil, which is why Alana gets close enough to break her curse.

Mason is a pig amongst pigs, and is not even fit to be eaten, unless it is by something as vulgar as himself.

Gideon stole someone else’s identity, so he was forced to watch and partake in the systematic deconstruction of everything that made him himself.

Hannibal is the Wendigo, because the Wendigo is his true nature, but he is not the Stag, however sometimes the Stag is the Wendigo, because the Stag is a representation of the relationship of two people and Hannibal is never really Will, even when he’s pretending to be, but sometimes Will is Hannibal, and sometimes they’ve become too conjoined to tell apart.

Miriam Lass is Jack’s greatest failure, because she was an innocent he threw into the jaws of a monster, and she came back forever broken, but then Jack’s greatest failure was Bella, who was not a failure at all, just someone he couldn’t save, which to him is the same, although her loss is without spectacle or bloodshed, and then Jack’s greatest failure was Will, first in not believing him, and then in ignoring all evidence in order to believe in him out of guilt, but not trust.

Fredrick Chilton strips away the dignity and autonomy of others, so he gains the gift of an identity he tried to pawn off, and the destruction of his own body while he survives to bear the next indignity.

Freddie Lounds speaks truth, but she also lies, and is often believed.

Hannibal lies and is believed, but he also speaks truth and is not.

Will lies through not telling the truth, the deepest truths he speaks are ignored until it’s too late even though he is expected to know all truths.

Molly is no one and nothing, until Will, and then she is alone in a world of monsters.

Hannibal desires attention, and to be admired for being clever. Will has the ability, but he doesn’t have the initial desire because Hannibal does not interest him.

Will does not have a desire to be understood, but he does desire to be seen as unique.

Chiyoh has mastered the balancing act. She can kill, but does not overkill, has been manipulated, but not blinded, understands, but does not overstep into claiming to know, she can see violence as love, but she understands the abnormality of that, so she survives and gets to walk away without a scratch on her.

To love is to accept death, whatever form that takes, your partner’s, your own, those your parent has caused, or the ones you have caused.

It makes perfect sense that the most absolute form of love is to cause death by your partner’s side, and wish for both of your deaths in return.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Is it just me, or does miraculous seemingly exist in this weird in-between where it's trying to be a standard superhero story and a deconstruction of superhero stories at the same time?

I don't know. All your trappings for a classic Superman run are there: goofy costumes, secret identities, villainous monologues, stories about friendship and teamwork and saving the city from knights and mimes and all other sorts...

But then it's like, randomly, it'll decide to pull elements from Watchmen or Worm instead. Chat Blanc and Recreation stand out as especially egregious on this front. A broken world destroyed by a monstrous hero? Ladybug standing back as the villain wins, keeping his secret to protect the fragile new order? These are famous plot beats from stories where morality goes to die, and I just can't fathom why they're showing up in a kids cartoon, of all places.

It's not just you. Miraculous has a lot of really weird elements for a standard superhero show, but before we get into that, let's quickly define what we mean by deconstruction for the folks who don't know that term (source):

"Deconstruction" literally means "to take something apart". When applied to tropes or other aspects of fiction, deconstruction means to take apart a trope in a way that exposes its inherent contradictions, often by exploring the difference between how the trope appears in this one work and how it compares to other relevant tropes or ideas both in fiction and real life. ...Note that while deconstructions often end up darker, edgier, sadder, and more cynical than the normal version, there is no reason they have to be. While the deconstruction process can reveal things we weren't thinking about for a reason — a major contributing factor in why it tends to be depressing — deconstructions are free to exist anywhere on the sliding scale of idealism versus cynicism.

As an example, Disney's Frozen deconstructions the idea of romantic love being the most powerful thing by having True Love's Kiss be a platonic kiss between sisters and not a romantic kiss between the leading lady and her love interest even though Ana still gets a love interest that she barely knows, but let's not get into that here. Just know that I don't like Frozen. I'm only using it as an example because it's obnoxiously popular and aimed at kids which is important because it shows us that you can have good deconstruction in media aimed at families and children. The message that your sister's love is just as powerful as your boyfriend's is a good one for kids to internalize. It's also one that you can understand without knowing the genre. Frozen might be funnier and more satisfying for those of us who know the classic fairytale standard of True Love's Kiss, but you don't need to know that standard to enjoy the film and walk away feeling like it had a good message.

This is Miraculous' problem.

Miraculous is not playing with genre conventions in a way that lets you enjoy the story even if you don't know the genre conventions. It is doing dark and edgy deconstruction that requires you to know the classic way things play out so that you might want to see something different. In Frozen, True Love still wins, it just takes a different form. In Miraculous, True Love fails.

Is it more realistic for an abused teenage boy to be overwhelmed and lose all hope because of the reveal that his abusive father is the supervillain and his mother's body is hiding in the basement? Yes. Is it a better message for kids who relate to Adrien?

No. Seeing Adrien give into despair is not empowering to the people who relate to him.

That's why I don't like Chat Blanc and Ephemeral and the season five final. They may be realistic, but episodic superhero shows for five-year-olds aren't the place for that kind of genre-desconstructuon-based realism. Kids shows are fundamentally incompatible with this type of deconstruction because this type of deconstructions only work if the audience understands the tropes and other genre conventions that the story is playing with. The first hero media you watch should not be a deconstruction of the genre that dismisses the idea of love and friendship conquering all. Little kids don't have the framework to get what's going on. They're not looking at Chat Blanc and viewing this as some interesting and realistic take on the standard genre conventions. They just see Adrien killing Marinette and what's the lesson of that?

Even from a deconstruction point of view these episodes were dumb because the story isn't saying something interesting about victims of abuse and the support they need since the story doesn't go on to give Adrien support. As I've mentioned before, if Chat Blanc's moral was ultimately that Adrien needed to know the truth before the final fight, then I could see it having value even though I think that's too complex for the target audience. That's not the moral, though. The moral is apparently that Adrien needs to be coddled and kept in the dark which I am never going to agree with.

[marymary-diva17]

Broken mask

Jake x reader x neytiri

The exo mask is a fundamental devices that was needed by all the humans, who were on pandora. As human couldn't breath the air on pandora, as told before and one without a mask it could end horrible. One wrong mistake could result in have a hard time breathing and tragic faith in the end, if the mask was not given in time. So what happens when the incident befallen someone.

Y/n " ......." you are walking in the human base hallways towards the door, it had been some time since you and other humans had set up camp here.

norm ' good morning y/n heading off to see the kids and your spouse"

y/n " yes I would use my avatar body but that was no go for max, as him and his team are still setting up the links"

norm " yeah it sucks now most of who use our avatar bodies are stuck as humans"

women " the metekayian not seem like big fans human right now thanks to the RDA, being their greedy and cruel selves as well"

man " I have to agree even as well we can't blame them for how they feel about us, it had taken some time for few forest clans to trust us after battle"

y/n " yes but if we do our best and not cause any trouble we will be good, and maybe in time they will trust to be around us"

norm " y/n is right we use need to wait and see we have also have enough mask and oxygen packs to last, for a long time so no need to worry"

y/n " yes but still be careful everyone on break or the mask ripped off we are in trouble, even when the oxygen pack messed with as well would be bad"

women 2 " got it but we of have the new devices that we all carry, that will help us breath if anything happens"

norm " but it sucks that it only last for short while not long enough"

man 2 " we can make ones that last longer later on"

y/n " we have done well we will discover more solutions later on as we have gone, like we have done in the past" everyone had nodded their heads, once that was over you soon left the base and started heading towards the village.

????? " mama" you had looked up to see tuk standing around, with some kids you had know from the clan along with some reef kids as well.

y/n " hey baby girl"

tuk " you are here"

reef girl " she your mama but I thought your mama is navi like you"

tuk " oh she is but she a dream walker she my mama as human and navi"

reef kids " ohh"

y/n " what tuk says is true I'm human still but have an avatar body as well, that makes me navi like you all"

reef boy " so tuk has two moms and dad"

y/n " yes she does and the same is for her siblings as well mostly, so what were you kids doing anyways"

tuk " we are going for a swim mama over there and there, are some sea otters that we want to see as well"

y/n " well you say in eye of the village tuk tuk and that goes for all of you kids"

tuk " yes mama"

kids ' yes y/n"

y/n " you are free to go now have fun" the kids soon cheered and ran off together leaving you standing there smiling at the whole situation. You soon started walking once again hoping to to run into your older kids and spouses as well.

????? " here caught this"

????? " you sykwang you tossed it to far" When someone came dashing by you along and soon jumped into the water, after doing a spin. It had taken you not the long to see it was lo'ak as you look at him, wonder where he had came from anyways.

lo'ak " come on lets go get it ... oh hey mama"

y/n " hello my son so what are you and other kids playing"

lo'ak " well you see we are trying to see which ones of us has the best moves, sorry about that mama I didn't mean to come out of anywhere like that"

y/n " it okay"

kiri " hey mama"

y/n " hello my daughter it good to see you where is your other brother and cousin"

neteyam "we are here mama"

spider " hey aunt y/n"

y/n " hello kids so how the game going"

kiri " it will going well it seems like our team is in the lead"

lo'ak " forest navi for the win"

aonung " this game is very fun"

tsireya " yes I have to agree and we can alos play it in the water as well"

rotxo " good morning y/n"

y/n " good morning childern I happy to see you are getting along well, like the younger kids"

neteyam " we had the day off our yes dad and mom are not here at the moment, as they went with tonowari and ronal to see the other clans leaders"

y/n " oh well I see them later on today"

lo'ak " will you be heading back to the base right away"

y/n " no I will not I will spending some time out here relaxing and collect data as well"

spider " cool will my dad being around as well"

y/n " he will be out soon when he can"

spider " I understand"

aonung " hey let go back to the game I want to see what other moves you forest kids can do"

y/n " have fun kids but please stay in sight of the village and safe"

kids " yes ma'am" the group had soon taken off leave you alone on the sandy beach, as you are collect some data and enjoying some relaxation as well.

tuk " mama we need help"

y/n " what the matter tuk tuk"

tuk " well there was some rocks we had been standing on when a wave had crashed against us, sending us falling down we got scarps on us"

y/n " oh yes I can see that"

little reed girl " that healers seem to be very busy and our parents, are not around right now"

tuk " don't worry my mama can help us right mama"

y/n " yes I can come over here and I will help you all" you had spray on that that had helped heal, injuries on the kids or help healed them half away. There had bene some homemade bandage places on the kids as well to heal with the healing.

reef boy " how did you do that"

y/n " well this spary here has healing herbs that are suitable for everyone, but you still need to be careful as the cuts will hurt if they do go visit ronal"

reef girl 2 " okay you are an wonderful healer"

tuk " my mama is a healer she used to heal many of clan members"

forest girl " yes y/n is a good healer she has helped us feel better, when we had been sick due to a flower"

forest boy " she has even received praise from moat as well"

reef boy 2 " thank you"

y/n " your welcome and please tell your parents of what had happened today, so they can make sure you all are okay later on today" the kids had nodded their heads and soon took off, still enjoying the wonderful day.

sometime later

y/n " maybe I should make some lunch for me and the kids..."

????/ " human women" you had heard someone yelling gaining your attention, as you saw a women walking towards you and she was mad.

female navi " I'm speaking to you"

y/n ' umm hello there"

female navi " you decide to harm my sister son you demon women"

y/n " wait no you misunderstand the situation"

y/n " no please let talk about this"

male navi " this is the women the child talked about" a male navi soon showed up with his spear, and he was mad as well.

male navi " I will make you pay for your actions against the boy and all the other clan children, you and the rest of your kind are a bad omen on us all" the man had swings his spear at you making you run away, from him as she was chasing you. He had tossed his spear as she glazed your arm and leg, making you fall down in pain.

y/n " ahhh" there is so much pain rushing throat your body as you look at the pair, the man had grabbed his spear and swag it again hitting your arm as you tried to protect yourself. There had been some damaged you had gotten as well.

male navi " this is for the sake of my family and clan....." the man had soon been tackled to the ground, you had looked up to see your sons and spider.

neteyam " how dare you attack my mom"

kiri " mama" kiri and tisreya had come to your side as you try getting up, as aonung and rotox went to the boys.

tsireya " what have you done attacking her like that"

male navi " she caused harm to my son"

tuk " no mama didn't do anything she was being nice and helping us"

y/n " my mask ... I cant..."

spider ' he mask it broken she losing oxygen"

kiri " no no"

y/n " my pockets there is a spare one .... I ....."

kiri " I found it"

lo'ak " mama it going to be okay we are here" kiri and tsireya had removed the mask slowly then placing a new one on your face.

spider" she still in endanger we need to get her back to base, she baldy hurt and that speared cause enough damage"

neteyam " I will carry her on my back mama can you hear us"

mama " yes ... I ...can"

lo'ak " we are getting your help right away spider run ahead and tell your dad and uncle max... tuk go get grandma and tell her" tuk had nodded her head and ran off right away with the other kids.

spider " yes" spider had ran off as the kids helped neteyam place you on his back. The sully kids had ran off with you including tsireya who came as well to be helpful.

male navi " she she most ...."

aonung " enough you will not to anything else you have done, enough today along with your mate my father will learn about this"

norm " kids get her inside quickly" neteyam and lo'ak had gotten you to the door entrance as spider, and norm had taken you from their arms and placed you gurney.

max " we need to get her in the medical room now"

lo'ak " we are coming"

norm " no you kids wait out here please I will come with updates"

kiri " mama"

women " it will be okay kids we are going to help your mama" the door had locked and close, as the kids watch you being rolled away from them. Tuk and mo'at had came after hearing the news, mo'at stand with the children to watch them and comfort them as well. Neteyam had called Jake and neytiri about what had befallen you today, and panic had set in for the whole family and clan.

Neytiri " children" neytiri had landed her ikran and got off right away, as she ran toward the base worried about your safety.

neteyam " she been in there for hour mom"

Jake " kids we are here"

tuk " dada mama was hurt my very mean guy just for helping"

Jake " we are here now baby girl"

tonowari " what has happened here please explain kids"

aonung " one of our warriors and his mate had started yelling at y/n, blaming and saying she hurt a boy when she didn't ... he then attacked her"

neytiri " where is she I will make him and his mate pay"

tsu'tey " neytiri not yet"

mo'at " my daughter your kids need you right now"

neytiri " okay"

ronal " son can you and any others point this couple out"

aonung " yes we can"

ronal " we will speak with the couple and the boy coming from your word, he would be their nephew so we will call his parents as well"

tonoari " I think his parents were the warrior that came with us on visit today"

ronal " Jake and Neytiri we will speak with this pair and make them, any for their actions against your mate"

norm " hey everyone"

Jake " norm how is she"

norm " she is stable now the kids got here on time and she will need time to recover, from her injuries we are lucky that spar didn't do anymore damage then it has done"

neytiri " thank you great mother thank you"

Jake " may we see her with the kids they have been awful worried"

norm " yes you all can"

tonowari " we will leave your family to be with y/n we will deal with, the others"

Jake " thank you" the sully family had went into other part of the base to see you laying in a bed.

y/n " hey"

tuk " mama" tuk soon hugged you happy to see that you are okay and no longer in pain.

tuk " mama I'm sorry if we didn't say anything ...."

y/n " there nothing for you and the other kids to say sorry about my loves, I'm fine now no need to worry"

kiri " we are happy to see that you are doing okay mama we thought, we lost you when the mask had broken"

y/n " I'm not going anywhere my loves"

neytiri " ma y/n we are happy to see that you are safe but that couple will have to pay for their actions"

y/n " I had a feeling that might happened"

Jake " please don't scary us like that ever again"

y/n " I promises"

lo'ak " we are sorry for attacking the man mama we know, we made a promise to not cause trouble"

neteyam " yes mama we are sorry"

Jake " son none of you did anything wrong you had been protecting your mama, and that makes me proud"

neytiri " we are going to be here for you during your time of healing, but we will make sure no one see messing with you as well" you had smiled and nodded your head, the family had spent a few more hours with you there and camped outside that night. The couple had been brought to tonowari and ronal, along with their nephew and the boys parents. Where tension had been raised as the couple had been scolded by both sides for their horrible behaviors, they had been order to stay away from you until further notice and being punished as well. The boys parents had apologized for the couple actions to you and the family, they had been forgive by you as they were not to blame for what happed that day.It will take you days to recover and soon enough you will be good, and back outside with the family having a good life on pandora.

[thecoffinsys]

Slay the Princess is the perfect demonstration of trauma, dissociation, and systemhood.

I NEED MORE PEOPLE TO TALK ABOUT THIS. And it's NOT just for the reasons you may think. Yes, it is due to the multitude of voices, but that isn't all there is to systemhood. Slay the Princess dives into almost every fundamental stage of grief, trauma, stress, and body sensations regarding traumatic events that we as a collective have ever experienced. Stay with me.

SYSTEMHOOD

Not only does Slay the Princess display systemhood through the multitude of voices, inability to come to a conclusion on outerbody decisions, and having different methods of how to survive specific situations— it also displays systemhood through loss of time, depersonalization, loss of identity and sense of self, alters having abilities over the body that others do not, looping the same trauma over and over again, and rapidly splitting due to traumatic experiences — even down to not being believed by family members when you tell them something horrible happened to you.

The entire idea of jumping from one alternative world to the next after dying or making the incorrect choice perfectly displays a repetition of the same traumatic memory over and over again, the mind trying to logistically think of what could have been done differently as a means of coping with what really happened. When you fail to save the world in one reality, your mind restarts the entire scenario again, trying to find a better option to the mistake you've already made.

The Stranger rout perfect displays depersonalization, dissociation, loss of self and identity, and confusion regarding time. The second you step down a staircase, you completely and utterly forget yourself in the mundane action. Forgetting who you are, where you are, what your purpose truly is - and sinking deep within your own mind, until suddenly you're right where you are meant to be and have no memory of how you got there. It's so perfect in how it shows the confusion and distress.

This game is about becoming. whole. Gaining. A sense. Of self. And purpose. Gaining more perspectives, more understandings of what it means to be a person. (Oh my god I'm screaming)

In The Nightmare, the voice of the Paranoid displays perfectly symptoms of not only paranoia regarding trauma, but symptoms of OCD due to trauma. He has an ability that no other alter has, which is to keep their organs running by participating in his own compulsion. Which really displays how some alters have abilities that other do not, because to be a system, you must be fragmented. Several shards of glass attempting, to the best of their ability, to be a functional mirror- but never having the exact strength. And different shards will hold different capabilities than those who are smaller, weaker, and carry smaller and/or more specific burdens. Paranoid is a very big shard, I think.

Following that — mirrors are a huge motif of the game. Not only do you continuously see them in every rout, but you end each rout by finally looking at yourself and seeing you for you. And the more perspectives you gain, the less "you" you truly feel. You become tired, withered. But it is all in the efforts to "become whole". To make this being of perception finally understand what it means to be more than just broken worlds creating branching understandings.

In A Moment of Clarity, dozens of voices begin to cloud our understanding due to the very traumatic thing we experienced in the last world. A rapid split because of trauma! We become more broken; "losing ourselves". Now there are even more conflicting thoughts, feelings, and opinions regarding how we should go about surviving- and it displays our further descent from our sense of self. Which is ironic given the name of the ending!

And finally (but most definitely not finally, I could keep going on and on but no one would want to read all of that), The Narrator never believing you when you tell him you've been here before, have experienced horrors that he could never imagine, and have been through countless nightmares. But not only does he not believe you, he will also ridicule your idea, and go on to say "you failed because you didn't listen to me" or "you damned another world because of what you did". Puts the blame on us, once again. It's the same thing a lot of systems do experience in the real world. You try to reach out, you try to explain to someone you trust that something horrible happened to you, but you're met with disbelief and shamed for your own trauma. Made to feel like the guilty one when you are in fact the victim- the survivor. That one stood out to me very personally.

. . .

I really want to go on but this is already a billion paragraphs and I worry no one will even get this far. But this game means a lot to us as a system and as someone who experiences things very similar to what is displayed in the game on a daily basis. Slay the Princess might be one of our all time favorite games as of right now, especially considering the guy who traumatized us for 200 episodes straight is the main guy voicing the entire thing- that also helps with sentiment-

Uhhhh thank you for reading if you made it this far :]

[f0point5]

MAD MAX FIGHT SCENE WHEN?? I have never needed a written piece more than right now

I also reserve the right to imagine Emilia throwing a shoe at someone in this scenario. Idk why i just feel like it could happen. She is not happy about it

MAD MAX FIGHT SCENE NOW!!!

Tell me why this went four different ways before I came to this version. The alternate version took place in a club and had Emilia spraying champagne at a bunch of people but fundamentally it didn’t work as a written piece because you can’t hear what anyone’s saying in a club for shit 😂 No shoe throwing but I hope you like it anyway 😂

Me writing action scenes is like something out of that book After it’s so bad I’m sorry but I hope you got where I’m going 😂

✨set after the Monaco Grand Prix 2018✨

I don’t regret it one bit, ‘cause he had it coming

Another Monaco GP, another yacht party. You’re not even sure whose yacht it is but you don’t care. During GP weekend, drivers can pretty much walk onto whatever boat they want. You, Max, Clara, and Laurent had wandered onto the biggest boat with people having a party and set about forgetting Max’s nightmare weekend. The party is chaotic, you’re not sure how long whoever is in charge of the marina will let the noise and overcrowding go on, but you’re enjoying the high, four shots down with Max on the upper deck, lazily moving to the music emanating from the DJ playing his set downstairs.

“Where’s Laurent?” Max asks, practically shouting in your ear. He’s tipsy, which he deserves to be, his arm slung over your shoulder as he looks around, jerking your body as he turns. He’s out way too late, you can tell by how his t-shirt is clinging to him, and the fluffy top of his hair has completely broken free of the gel hold. He looks positively feral. You don’t hate it.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, pushing up onto your tiptoes so you don’t have to shout. “Probably fucking Clara in a bathroom somewhere,”

Max chuckles at that, taking a sip of his Red Bull. He offers it to you but you shake your head.

“I thought you were supposed to be supporting me,” he jokes as you avoid the can.

“Not by rotting my insides,” you tell him, squirming in his hold as he bops to the Dua Lipa remix he’ll pretend he’s never heard before. He manoeuvres you in front of him as if you don’t even have feet, wrapping his arm around your stomach so that you’re still trapped, but comfortable.

“Je bent niet leuk, schatje,” he says into your ear. The air on your neck makes you shiver against him, and he must think you’re cold because he holds you tighter.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you tell him, which makes him smirk. “And I’m not your baby,”

“Ja, maar-“

“Max!”

You twist in Max’s hold when a guy you don’t recognise appears from somewhere in the crowd. Max lets go of you to greet him, and without being entirely engulfed by 80kgs of Red Bull and audacity, you realise you’re parched. You tell Max you’ll be right back and scoot out of reach before he can say anything. You creep through the crowd and then downstairs to where the drinks are without twisting your ankle, which, given how drunk you felt back upstairs, sort of surprises you.

There’s several ice buckets lining the edge of the deck and you peruse the options. You’ve certainly had enough to drink but one more vodka couldn’t hurt. You glance over at the cans of Red Bull and make a note to take one with you as you pick a glass off the table.

“Do you come with the bottles?”

Well, that’s a choice of opening line, talking to a girl like she’s a phone charm.

You turn to see what, not whom, actually felt comfortable saying that out loud and there he was. The epitome of a guy who would say that. He’s older than you, maybe mid to late 20s, all tan and tight jeans, dark hair cut in a fade, gold watch that could be seen from space and those Louboutin loafers. His cologne smells like Dubai.

You look him up and down very slowly and deliberately. “Not if you’re buying them,” you say, turning back to the ice bucket.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” his voice is closer now, almost in your ear. You turn only slightly and find his face already next to yours. ”Come have a drink over here,” he nods over to a seating area where a few guys sit with girls that look too young to be there.

You know the type - down on a girls trip for the weekend with only party outfits in their bags, they’d likely hung around the marina until the pack of jackals had brought them here to ply them with alcohol they didn’t have to pay for. You’re half offended that this guy thought you’d be anywhere near that easy.

“I’ve got enough, thanks.” You say, firmer this time, as you give up on the vodka and just grab one of the many bottles of champagne in the ice bucket. When you turn to leave, you practically collide with the hunk of meat now towering over you.

“Who do I have to speak to to get you to come have a drink with me?” He asks, as if that’s meant to be sexy.

You roll your eyes. “Your hairdresser.”

“Come on, just one drink. I’ll make it worth your while,” he says, his eyes glancing down. You follow his gaze, already steeling yourself for some vulgar gesture, but he pulls out the edge of his wallet from his jeans.

You roll your eyes again. “I’m not pay for play. Now leave me alone.”

You step around him this time, starting to make your way back towards the stairs when this experiment in protein shake consumption blocks your way. You almost trip trying not to crash into him, not that he would have minded if the way he leans into you Is any indication.

“Look, I’m not some nobody, baby, I’ve got real fucking money. I’m what all you pretty girls come out here in your skimpy dresses for,” he says, the noxious smell of chemicals and tequila almost making your eyes water. What makes you feel sick is the way he uses his height advantage to look down your dress. “So have a drink with me. It’ll be fun, I promise,”

Only now does he employ an actual smile, the kind that you’d never want to be in a room alone with. Suddenly, you don’t feel like making any more jokes, you just want to get as far away from this guy as possible. Turning on your heels, you figure you’ll double back around the deck, but a hand tight on your wrist stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t walk away from me,” the words are growled, and you feel your pulse spike. Now you’re scared, but showing it will get you nowhere.

“Get off me,” you snap, trying to shake the giant cretin off you without causing a scene. He doesn’t let go and you’re just about to bottle him over the head when you hear Max’s voice.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Max strides towards you, looking as angry as you’ve ever seen him. He must have been watching from up by the railings of the top deck.

“Oh, here we go,” the guy grumbles, rolling his eyes as he looks at Max. You take the opportunity to wrench your arm free of him. “Don’t worry, bro. You can have her back when I’m finished with her,”

“You arrogant piece of shit,” you snarl at the guy, almost taking a step towards him before thinking better of it.

“Watch your mouth,” he snaps back, pointing a finger at you. “Your ass isn’t that nice,”

“The fuck did you just say?” Max yells over the music. He guides you behind him effortlessly and you don’t argue, though you do keep hold of his arm.

“You heard me, you prick,” the douchebag says, flashing Max a cocky grin. That won’t go down well.

You pull on Max’s arm. You can tell from the set of his shoulders that this is getting out of hand.

“Max, leave it,” you tell him, pulling him again, and this time he listens, sighing and shaking his head. He knows he has to let it go.

“Jesus,” the arrogant pig sneers, and you cringe. “Has this bitch got a magic pussy or something?”

You don’t even have a chance against Max’s reaction speed. He’s moving before your eyes can even follow, shoving the guy backwards so quickly that the drunkard stumbles slightly, but not as much as you thought he would.

“Shut the fuck up,” Max growls at him.

Dickhead doesn’t take this well, shoving Max back. You’re too scared to get in the middle now. People are starting to stare, a couple of them even have their phones out.

“Max,” it’s more of a plea than anything. “Stop it,”

You know Max isn’t going to just drop it. He doesn’t know how to walk away from a fight, it’s just that normally his fighting involves being protected by a ton of carbon fibre, not that he thinks he needs it.

“You don’t want to mess with me, man,” the guy shouts, looking over Max’s shoulder to glare at you. “Certainly not over some dirty yacht slut,”

Once again, you’re no match for Max’s reaction speed. You don’t see his arm move. You’re barely able to process his fist connecting with the guy’s face. You just see Dickhead fly backwards clutching his jaw as he tumbles to the ground.

“Max!” You scream, but this time he totally ignores you.

“Fucking pussy,” he yells, at the same volume but now that the music has been turned down so that everyone can pay attention to the spectacle, it feels like the whole marina can hear him.

He steps towards the disoriented drunkard on the floor and this time you manage to catch up with him, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him backwards.

“Max, come on,”

He’s fighting it a little, and you press your nails into his skin as you fight harder, dragging him away from where Douchebag’s friends have swarmed around him trying to help. You know they’re looking in your direction but you ignore them and you’re hoping Max does, too.

He turns to look at you and it’s like barely recognises you, his face is flushed and his pupils are dilated and you don’t entirely recognise him either. It knocks the wind out of you, and for just a second you swear everything stops, even your heartbeat.

“You’re okay?” Max asks you, through frenzied breathing.

Your mouth is dry but you speak anyway. “I’m fine.” You don’t know if you’re lying. “Let’s just go,”

You don’t give him time to argue, and it seems he’s calmed down enough to realise now is a good time to cut your losses, because he follows you without complaint.

You don’t let go of him until you’re on the concrete pathway up towards the stairs that have street access. More accurately, that’s when you become aware that you’re still holding onto him. When two toasted revellers try to walk between you but can’t, and shout something at you in Spanish for walking too slow. You let go of Max but he still doesn’t say anything. You keep stealing glances at him as you walk. His shoulders are still tight, his jaw is clenched. His hands are clenched into fists at his side. He still looks livid. That’s why you’re nervous, that’s why you can’t catch your breath, that’s why it’s hard to look away from him. You’re worried about him.

“Well, that was stupid,” you say with a sigh, once you’re sure your words won’t come out as some kind of breathy invocation of a worse kind of chaos than anything you’ve already been involved in tonight.

“That guy was stupid,” Max shoots back, grinding his teeth.

“You could have got hurt, Max,” you tell him, shoving him in the arm. He rolls his eyes. Of course. When taking your own life in your hands is what you get paid for there’s not much you can afford to be scared of. “What would have happened if you’d broke your hand? Your dad would actually kill me,”

“My dad would have done the same thing I did,” Max counters, and you can tell by the several expressions that cross his face in quick succession that he doesn’t quite know how to feel about that.

“Your dad is an idiot,” you remind him. He doesn’t argue. “And so are you,”

He scoffs. “So I was just supposed to let him talk to you like that? Touch you like that?” It’s not really a question, more a general statement of unadulterated disgust and you can’t really blame him. “Fuck that. I’m not going to just-“

He cuts himself off, his jaw ticking again. Neither of you have ever spoken about it, but you know men behaving like sentient sewage is a sore subject for both of you. Maybe, you think, you shouldn’t make him feel bad for standing up for you. You’d never needed anyone to stand up for you, and you still didn’t, but the fact that Max always did means more to you than you know how to articulate.

You lean over and kiss him on the cheek, catching more of the corner of his mouth than you intended, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stops walking and looks at you, the left side of his lips twitching.

“You kiss idiots?” Max asks, tongue darting out to lick at his bottom lip.

“Exclusively,” you shrug, “judging by my dating history,”

That makes him laugh, a proper one, with that bark he does when he’s surprised how funny he finds something. All traces of the menace from the boat filter out of his body, and something in the back of your head tells you it was just in time.

“Hey,” a loud, obnoxious, and lovable voice rings out behind you. You turn around and see Laurent walking towards you with a well satisfied Clara on his back, holding a large bottle of pilfered champagne. “Where the fuck have you two been?”

[serpentface]

What does medical theory look like in Wardi areas? There's a concept of diseases caused by dabi, but what about other causes? And what does becoming a doctor or healer look like?

Dagi are specifically evil spirits that are explanatory for ailments with clear or presumed external cause, and that are known to spread (either through the body or between people). They are thus considered the source of most infections and contagious diseases. They are sort of a proto-proto germ theory in that they are conceptualized as being tiny and/or invisible and entering the body through wounds and orifices, though this is conceptualized more along the lines of miasma theory (they are usually spread in the form of Bad Air). They're a pretty small part of the medical model as a whole, being a direct Cause of the disease but not what Enables it.

The broader medical model revolves around these core concepts:

-Blood is the living spirit. Every person has two souls, with living spirit being the one that animates and maintains the body. A body's healthy function is dependent upon blood flow being normal and uninhibited, and the blood not being polluted.

-All matter in the world is composed of a mix of essential properties of Sea (female/cold/wet/malleable) and Sky (male/hot/dry/transformative). In medical contexts, these essences are usually referred to as Hot or Cold as proper nouns. This does not usually refer to literal temperature, and rather describes an object's presumed interactive qualities.

-All non-human/animal matter in the world is also God's body and carries the flow of God's living spirit, with each discrete form of matter being imbued with an Essence that is a fundamental nature that defines its being. In the context of medicine, Essences are influenced by their Hot/Cold properties, and are the mechanism for medicinal effects ascribed to any given object. This is rooted in Wardi animism, and the concept of Essence is basically interchangeable with the notion that all natural objects have an interactive Spirit. The explicitness of this element and how much this Spirit is ascribed internal agency/personhood is more variable.

-The body/living spirit is metaphysically vulnerable to spiritual pollution. Forms of spiritual pollution first weaken the living spirit, thus becoming an avenue for ailments to develop. Curses can similarly weaken the body, as can attachment/inhabitation by evil spirits. An already weakened body is more vulnerable to this sort of outside harm by dagi/other evil spirits/curses, so the effects can be compounded.

-The totality of your wellbeing is dependent upon your connection to God, maintained on an individual day to day level by prayer and offerings, and by avoiding spiritual pollution. God's body and living spirit, while great on scales beyond imagining, is still a body, still susceptible to its natural flows being blocked or severed. Proper orthopraxy maintains your connection, which is the ultimate foundation for a good life, good fortune, and good health.

-The worldview in general doesn't distinguish a 'mundane' dimension from a 'spiritual' dimension. Most things are spiritual and mundane at the same time. Everyday ablution is cleansing yourself of spiritual pollution and it's also just washing your hands because they have dirt on them. There is no fundamental difference between physical health and spiritual health, even wholly physical injuries (ie a broken arm) affect the living spirit, even wholly spiritual injuries (ie a curse) affect the physical body.

---

So pretty much every possible ailment can be interpreted through this model. Contagious flu is dagi entering the body through orifices and spreading into the blood, causing the blood to become polluted and obstructing its proper flow, thus resulting in the flu's physical effects. Infection is dagi entering the body through wounds, obstructing the blood from healing the wound and causing inflammation and rot. A migraine is an excess of blood flow to the head that becomes too Hot, potentially caused by blockage of blood flow in other parts of the body. Erectile dysfunction might be because the testes or penis are too Cold and/or have obstructed blood flow and/or have localized polluted blood and/or you could be cursed, buddy. Intestinal parasites are small bugs that get inside your body and feed on blood (yeah), causing blockages and disruption of bloodflow to the affected parts and harming your health.

The medical system is built upon this model and attempts to address every dimension of these concerns.

At the most abstract end of things, heartbeat drums are used in healing contexts as a matter of belief they can influence the flow of living spirit. In almost all cases, this is supplemental, encouraging the blood to move in the necessary capacity while more direct treatments go to work. IE- your wounds have been cleaned and you've been given medicine, the healing is already in process but further encouraged via the healer drumming the medicine through your body. Their use is most critical in life-or-death circumstances- a midwife overseeing a childbirth will have an assistant to drum throughout as a matter of keeping both parties alive and strengthening their blood flow.

'Medicine' refers to any objects that encourage health or healing via their direct interaction with the physical body. Medicines that are Consumed or topically applied usually intend to be active treatments, medicines that are Worn usually intend to be preventative.

Every discrete object is believed to have a Hot or Cold property, and a more nuanced Essence. The former describes how it interacts with other matter on a fundamental level, the latter ascribes its actual effects. Everything that exists Could potentially be medicinal and the grand totality of Wardi medicinal knowledge includes plants, minerals, and animal parts, though the majority of common medicine is based around herbalism. This medicine system is built on centuries of accumulated knowledge and some more historically recent scholarly investigation. Some of it is ultimately Vibes Based (astoundingly, antlers/horns and animal penises/testes tend to be ascribed positive effects for virility and male fertility), some is actively damaging (lead is sometimes consumed medicinally), but a lot of the most central medicines have Become central for having very strong correlation with positive results.

For example, wounds are usually cleaned with vinegar (the acetic acid of which has actual antimicrobial functions). Some contraceptives definitely Reduce the chance of pregnancy via properties that actually block the cervix, reduce sperm motility, make vaginal PH more hostile to sperm, or contain spermicidal chemicals (ie inserting bandage soaked in a ground mix of olive oil, honey, and acacia- the latter is spermicidal, the liquids reduce motility, and blocking the cervix via a barrier is just intuitive). Honey and garlic figure heavily into a lot of medicines in general, largely due to their actual antimicrobial properties. Cumin is already central to the diet, and is the preeminent treatment for internal parasites (and has some positive effect). Etc.

Ailments are also in part addressed by general dietary changes. Everything you eat has Hot or Cold properties as well as more nuanced individual Essences, so your everyday diet can address some dimensions of health and be a supplement for more directed medical treatment.

Bloodletting is a response to more severe or resistant ailments, usually when the cause is regarded as polluted blood in a specific body part and/or evil spirits in the body. It attempts to treat ailments by removing polluted blood at the sources of pollution, allowing the body's natural defenses to replace it with clean blood. Bloodletting is not performed willy-nilly and is generally not the first resort- this is your living spirit, the soul that animates your body, and you should only intentionally shed it with great purpose.

Given the lack of distinction between physical and spiritual health, all these forms of medicine are supplemented with everyday religious practice. Your connection with God is also a source of maintaining your health, and most priesthoods can assist you with more complex physical-spiritual matters via blessings and sacrifices in your name.

---

DOCTORS:

There are two main bodies of physicians who receive formal educations and work as physicians. Both of them are connected to the priesthood of Ganmache (largely due to that priesthood having become heavily interwoven with educational institutions in general) and receive their basic education from them, as spiritual knowledge is considered a fundamental necessity for medical care. These are the Hittlatlamii and Nacouy.

Hittlatlamii are predominantly midwives, but are also general physicians specializing in women's care. This role is Technically open regardless of gender, but male Hittlatlamii are uncommon and often subject to mockery as having failed at being Nacouy or possibly being some kind of pervert. The order is mostly composed of women and akoshos, and they are uniquely condoned to remain unmarried and given significant freedom of movement due to the necessities of their work. Most of their patients are women who may not necessarily leave the home as much as men, so Hittlatlami often have to travel to their patient's homes and may sometimes live there temporarily. Most Hittlatlamii are members of the commoner class, and usually inherit the position from a relative via recommendation (who will often become their mentor).

They are formally educated in the priesthood of Ganmache's schools from the age of ~7-10 to 15, and work in a close mentor-mentee relationship with a senior Hittlatlamii until the age of 30. In this process, they will have learned to read and write, have access to a broad base of recorded medical knowledge, and will have had extensive hands-on experience as physicians and midwives. Their specialty is women's health re: fertility and pregnancy and 'female anatomy', but they are also equipped to treat non-gendered common ailments and will sometimes attend to men as needed. They are also a cult to Anmir-Ganmache (God as the hearth/domestic sphere)- their work itself is a matter of this devotion, and they are considered equipped to provide blessings and attend to domestic spiritual issues (though are not full priests and thus not permitted to perform sacrifices).

Nacouy are the other group, with the word 'nacouy' being functionally translatable as just 'physician'. This role is exclusive to men. Most are commoners, but being a Nacouy is a fairly common 'youngest son of 6 brothers in a noble family that doesn't really have anything else to do' career path. They are general purpose doctors who will have been extensively educated, and will know/have access to the breadth of recorded medical knowledge. They are educated in the priesthood of Ganmache's schools from ~7-10 into their early 20s, and from there will work with a mentor until the latter dies or retires. They usually receive patients as visitors instead of coming to their homes (unless the patient is bed-bound or any travel would otherwise harm them), with full Nacouy usually sending their mentees to handle the majority of house calls. Highly esteemed nacouy are sometimes hired to become permanent doctors for royal families.

They are considered the backbone of medical practice and knowledge in Imperial Wardin, working life-long as healers while also extensively recording their knowledge and findings in the process. They are expected to be highly literate and good writers, though usually hire servant scribes as assistants for this matter. After retirement (usually around 50) they generally spend the remainders of their lives as teachers in their former schools.

There are plenty of people in this society who work as healers without being a member of these orders. These are mostly people living in small villages who work as doctors for their community, usually having inherited this position from their parents. They are very unlikely to have a formal education or to be literate in written Wardi, but will have learned a broad variety of medical lore via oral transmission and cooperation with other healers. This role tends to double as a local spiritual authority in places that are distant from priestly centers, as spiritual knowledge is a requirement for being a good healer.

[boredflautist]

quotes that keep me alive

"all the people are fake, they're made out of metal. But I like you, and that is not fake" -young royals

"I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world." -song of achilles

"No one ever says goodbye unless they want to see you again." -turtles all the way down

"I want to be with you. If we have to keep it a secret then... So be it, if thats the only way... But no more secrets between us. I love you" -young royals

"Why does the word 'love' from you hurt me so damn much?" -Only Friends

"I've always thought Ray was my 25th hour, my extra hour. But the truth is, everyone has the same 24 hours in a day. And within Ray's 24 hours, I'm not part of it. I'm not that special." -Only Friends

"If I'm gone, I won't be anyone's burden anymore, right?" -Only Friends

"You were wearing corduroy, acting like a poster boy" -poster boy by Lyn Lapid

"I would recognize you in total darkness, were you mute and I deaf. I would recognize you in another lifetime entirely, in different bodies, different times. And I would love you in all of this, until the very last star in the sky burnt out into oblivion" -song of achilles

"Tell me every terrible thing that you ever did, and let me love you anyway" -edgar allan poe

"The closer I get to you, the worse it gets. The thought of not being with you... I can't breathe. I'm haunted by the kiss that you should never have given me. My heart is beating, hoping that that kiss will not become a scar. You are in my very soul, tormenting me... What can I do? I will do anything that you ask." -anakin skywalker

"If changin' my clothes would make you like me more, if changing my hair would make you care, then I'd grab the kitchen scissors and cut myself to slivers" -jigsaw by conan gray

"'Sorry' doesn't make up for everything you did to me." -heartstopper

"You were my brother Anakin. I loved you." -revenge of the sith

"The truth is what I make it. I could set the world on fire, and call it rain." -red queen

" But isn't it also that on some fundamental level we find it difficult to understand that other people are human beings in the same way that we are? We idolize them as gods or dismiss them as animals." -paper towns

"And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like 'I love you'" -somethin' stupid by frank sinatra

"Tell me it isn't true. Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me I'm blind. Tell me you love me. " -shatter me

"I do want to be your friend. I want to be the friend you fall hopelessly in love with. The one you take into your arms and into your bed and into the private world you keep trapped in your head. I want to be that kind of friend." -shatter me

"The truth is a painful reminder of why I prefer to live among the lies" -shatter me

"'Don't ask me questions you already know the answers to. Twice I've laid myself bare for you and all it's gotten me was a bullet wound and a broken heart. Don't torture me,' He says, meeting my eyes again. 'It's a cruel thing to do, even to someone like me.'" -shatter me

"Everything's a game, Avery Grambs. The only thing we get to decide in this life is if we play to win." -inheritance games

"The world was collapsing, and the only thing that really mattered to me was that she was alive." -the last olympian "You think I didn't fight the same fight? I halfway convinced myself that as long as Avery was just a riddle or a puzzle, as long as I was just playing, I'd be fine. Well, joke's on me, because somewhere along the way, I stopped playing." -the Hawthorne legacy

"When you're ready, if you're ever ready, if it's going to be me - just flip that disk. Heads, I kiss you." His voice broke slightly. "Tails, you kiss me. And either way, it means something." -the Hawthorne legacy

"Hell is empty, and all the devils are here" -william shakespeare

"But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all" -10 things I hate about you

"It's just like the novels, side characters end up alone" -footnote by conan gray

"You made us past tense," I said, my voice cracking, "not me." -betting on you

"Because when they write the history of my life, I want it to include you" -red white and royal blue

"My life is the crown, and yours is just politics, and I will not trade one prison for another" -red white and royal blue

"Or maybe it was when I realized the bruises on your neck were fingerprints and wanted to kill them all over again just so I could do it slowly. Maybe it was the first time I recklessly kissed you or when I realized I'm fucked because I can't stop thinking about doing more than just kissing you. Does it even matter when, as long as it changed between us?" -fourth wing

"Oh darling all of the cities lights, never shined as bright as your eyes" -car's outside by james arthur

"I would rather lose this entire war than live without you, and if that means I have to prove myself over and over again, then I'll do it. You gave me your heart and I'm keeping it." -iron flame

"Because pain in the body quiets the pain in your head. It feels good - like a kill switch for your brain" -kill switch

"Then take your punishment like the pathetic creature that you are" -cruel prince

"Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It's disgusting, and I can't stop." -cruel prince

"If you're the sickness, I suppose you can't also be the cure." -the wicked king

"I hate you. I hate you so much that sometimes I can't think of anything else." -the wicked king

"Yes, my sweet villain, my darling god. I will be as sober as a stone carving, just as soon as I can." -the wicked king

"She is my wife," Cardan says, his voice carrying over the crowd. "The rightful High Queen of Elfhame. And most definitely not in exile." -the queen of nothing

"By you, I am forever undone." -the queen of nothing

"Come home and shout at me. Come home and fight with me. Come home and break my heart, if you just. Just come home." -the queen of nothing

"I wasted all those yesterdays and am completely out of tomorrows" -they both die at the end

"For what it's worth, I doubt I will ever like anyone else in the world as much as I like you." -book lovers

"I'd never thought about my favorite color before. It never seemed important. Not until I looked into a pair of ocean-blue eyes and realized that perhaps drowning was a beautiful thing" -powerless

<3

if you've made it to the end good god please get some sleep

[cavegirlpoems]

So, the scourge of Fantasy Races in Black Death Rising

I dislike the way most gygaxian fantasy basically just has 'elf' and 'dwarf' and 'orc' and so on as different ethnicities, that it then gives statistical modifiers to. "Oh, this race of people are strong and tall and prone to violence because of their genetics, and these ones are genetically beautiful and wise". It all gets a bit skull-callipers-ey to my mind.

On the other hand, I had written a setting with ghosts and demons running around, and I wanted them to be playable. How to handle this?

Firstly, I ditched the word 'race' entirely. All human ethnicities are mechanically identical, as are all ethnicities of other types of being. Instead, I'm using nature. Why?

The point is that a character's nature reflects their current state of being, and this can change. For many characters, it probably will at some point, when they die and return as undead.

Your nature doesn't give you stat adjustments or cultural abilities, or anything like that. You get a dice of Hit Points, which will be a d6 almost all the time; beings whose health is frailer get a d4, those whose health is more rugged get a d8. Then you get a couple of perks or flaws that reflect the basic type of being you are.

So, we have four rough sorts of Nature. Humans (and variations on humanity), spiritual entities that were never human (mimics & petty demons), artificial beings (homunculi & grotesques), and the various sorts of undead.

Mortal humans are our baseline that everything else deviates from. They get more equipment (since they're part of society in a way the others aren't), and that's basically it. Then, the variations on humanity aren't inhereted traits, they're about your life circumstances. You get Purified Ones, humans raised by witch cults in a state of ritual purity, effectively artificial saints. You get Lycanthropes, humans infested by wild magical forces that make them terrifying to animals and struggle to fit into polite society. And you get ghouls, humans whose births were touched by the plague, who become asymptomatic plague carriers, and tend to become vampires when they die.

Then for spiritual beings, you have two types. Both are fundamentally fallen angels, the difference is where they fell to. Petty Demons ended up in Hell; they suffer more heavily from the effects of sin, struggle to interact with holy things, but can draw on Hellfire for strength in combat. Mimics, on the other hand, found themselves in the mortal world, where they promptly hid among mortals; they can shapeshift, but are easily influenced by whatever role they're playing.

Artificial beings are similar, it's just a matter of who made them. Some are made by mortal magicians; these are homunculi, who can't heal just by resting but whose artificial bodies are easily restored by a doctor. Then Grotesques are the strange results of Wormwood's falling to earth; spontaneously-generated oddities that are immune to the ill-effects of Wormwood or other toxins, but who carry Wormwood's attention, causing magic to go awry around them and having a generally unsettling aura.

Then, finally, there's the undead. These are some other type of being (often human, but plenty of the time other types too), who died and came back. All undead are immune to a bunch of stuff like sickness and drowning, but also can't recover from injury like the living, accumulating more wounds over time. The state you were in when you died determines what you come back as. If your body and soul are both pretty intact, you come back as a revenant. If your soul is intact but your body is too broken to animate, you come back as a ghost, animating a false body of dust and ash. On the flip-side, if you died with an intact body but a dangerously shredded soul, you come back as a Waif; a spiritually empty husk animated by residual memories. Then, lastly, if you die affected by the Plague, you always have the chance to come back as a Vampire, and find yourself driven to feed on the blood of the living like a zombie but retain your sentience.

The key thing is that a character can shift between these different types of being. The obvious one is becoming undead, but other means exist. The Cult of Babylon brew dyscrasias that can transform the drinker into a spiritual Mimic, for example. Similarly, the heralds of Wormwood can transform you into a Grotesque through exposure. And there are a whole selection of magic items that let you shift your nature; a wolf-pelt that lets the wearer become a lycanthrope, or a set of false teeth that make their user become a ghoul.

This helps create the right mix of origins among player characters; a blend of regular humans, rather weird humans, spiritual oddities, and the risen dead.

[litmot-archived]

Sacred Scars

Isaac Rhoades x Reader

You see Isaac's scars.

“I never thought we’d get it done this fast,” Isaac said, closing the folder and with it the case you two had solved together in no time, setting a new personal record. 

“I told you I’m getting good,” you teased, smirking at him as he rolled his eyes in false annoyance. 

You had gotten good. 

Your attention to detail often made him pause in awe when you pointed out something seemingly insignificantly small that would lead to unraveling the entire cluster of names, places, and events making up the case.   

He loved working together with you. Not only did it allow him to spend even more time in your company, but you worked together so efficiently — as if you had been doing it all your lives, as if you understood each other's behavior and thinking on such a fundamental level — that it made every case fly by in the blink of an eye. For the first time in a long while, Isaac felt truly alive when he sat behind his desk. 

You nudged his shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts. “I also had an excellent teacher,” you said, shooting him a smile that turned genuine as you stared into his eyes. 

He looked so happy. You had never seen Isaac practically radiate with silent contentment. 

The overwhelming love and gratitude you saw in his expression made you avert your gaze, feeling like you were peeking into the very depths of his soul. You never wanted to pry, and although he had revealed his heart to you piece by broken piece, you knew expressing vulnerability was still hard for him. 

You cleared your throat, risking a glance at him. Isaac had a content smile, looking at the empty cup of tea in his hands as if it had given him the gift of happiness. “Do you want to call it an early night?” you asked, reaching out to ruffle his black hair and lighten the intensity of the moment shared between you. 

He gave you a disapproving look, but could not keep the smile off his face as he leaned into the touch. “That would probably be best,” he said, taking your hand and moving it to his lips. “We have a meeting tomorrow at noon, after all.”

“Right,” you said, carefully freeing your hand to hook two fingers under his chin and tilt his head up. He craned his neck, closing the gap before you had the chance to take him off guard. “Right,” you said again as he broke the kiss, smirking mischievously at you. “I’m going to make some chamomile tea before bed. Do you want some?”

“No, thank you,” Isaac replied, standing from his office chair. He raised his arms above his head, twisting his upper body from side to side in a long overdue stretch. “I’ll get ready for bed. Join me when you’re done?”

“Do you want a massage?” you asked, observing the furrow in his brows and the tight clench of his yaw as he rolled his shoulders. They seemed particularly tense.

“No need,” Isaac said quickly, dissolving your concern with a gentle smile. “Don’t be long.”

If anyone had predicted this future for you, standing in the kitchen, making yourself a cup of soothing chamomile tea while the man you loved was getting ready for sleep upstairs in an enormous and gorgeous house — and being happy, so utterly, soul-crushingly happy that you felt like your heart would burst — you would have called them a sick liar, descending into despair at being taunted with a life you so wanted but which you could never have. 

So much had changed in the time you had known Isaac. Some days you felt hardly deserving of all he had done for you. 

You pushed open the door to the bedroom with your shoulder, cradling the cup of steaming tea in your hands. “You realize if we hadn’t met, I would be—” You cut yourself off at the image before you. 

Isaac sat on the bed, his exposed back to you as he rummaged through the drawer of his nightstand for a shirt. You could see his shoulders tense when he heard your voice, hastily pulling out his shirt and throwing it on. 

It was too late. You had already seen the myriad of scars littering the skin of his back. 

“Pickle! I—” Isaac exclaimed, turning to face you. “I— uh—” He trailed off, unsure where to begin. You had never seen his scars, and he had never told you about them. Your expression was one of mild shock, still frozen in the doorway as you tried to settle on what to say. He swallowed, averting his gaze and sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

You approached him hesitatingly, sitting down beside him. You reached over, placing the tea on the nightstand before fully turning to face Isaac, holding your hands out for him to take. He obliged without hesitation. 

“Who did this to you?” you whispered, your heart breaking at the pain he must have suffered. 

Isaac chuckled sadly, shaking his head. “That’s hard to say,” he answered, thumbs rubbing circles into the back of your hands to distract himself. “It was not one single person. It’s the— the collateral damage to this line of work, I could say. Sometimes cases don’t go as planned.”

You stayed silent. There was a heavy feeling in your chest at the reminder that Isaac, too, had a past. He had suffered like you had, facing the brunt of the heavy legacy he carried. You wished you could have been there for him sooner. The idea that he had to patch himself up in this grand, empty house after one of his cases had taken an unexpected turn left a bitter taste on your tongue.

“Can you show me?” you asked quietly. 

Isaac’s jaw clenched. “Not tonight,” he said. “I don’t like thinking about it. Another time, maybe. I don’t feel up to it tonight.”

You nodded, squeezing his hands comfortingly. The past felt like something heavy for you, too. On some nights it came easy talking about it, on others it sat in your throat, stealing your breath as you tried croaking out the words. 

“That’s alright,” you said. “Would you like a sip of tea?”

“No, thank you,” he whispered, picking up the cup and handing it to you before encircling your waist with his arms and leaning his head on your shoulder. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest from how he was snuggled up against your side. “I only need you right now to chase away the shadows of the past.”

The moment felt painfully personal. It was a sacred thing, to be cradled gently and never spoken of outside the secure walls of your shared bedroom and its bulletproof glass that allowed you a peek into the night. 

Sometimes even the night of shadow needed a little light.

[casscainmainly]

Thoughts on Talia and Cass? I've always seen them as equal opposites, some sort of broken mirror. Two girls who were so loved by their fathers and can never really forgive them for it. The way David was the reason Cass has blood on her hands, the way Ra's pushed Talia till she broke but still threw away the gun. Batman as Cass' redemption and Batman as the reason Talia can never truly be selfish and ask Bruce to stay.

What are your thoughts on them both as the resident Cass expert :)

I feel like none of my thoughts will be as beautifully articulated as yours 😭. I'm definitely nowhere near well-read on Talia, but Cass & Talia are definitely characters who have parallels!!! Especially with the father angle, though of course their relationships to their fathers are fundamentally different - Cass opposes David Cain's killing philosophy with every inch of her body and mind, while Talia disagrees with Ra's but not with the fundamental principles of environmentalism. Bruce is also something they both share, and it is so interesting that Cass enshrines her anti-killing stance in Batman's symbol, whereas Talia's first appearance has her killing someone to protect him.

But idk as I said I'm not super familiar with Talia, all of this might be wrong so feel free to correct me 😭. But I do see the connections between them, they are both awesome characters!!

[weebsinstash]

(bnha/mha spoilers) i've still got attachments to the characters and still think of certain concepts and stuff for them and all that but like, are any of you feeling like BNHA is just going the exact same route as Naruto did where they spent the entire series talking about how cool heroes/ninjas are, then started discussing "but wait, not everything is as it seems! There's evil afoot, and not just any evil, SOCIALLY SYSTEMIC evil!" and then just completely shelved those discussions so the Hero could punch the Bad Guy in the face and then the series ends with everything being fundamentally exactly the same if not in some ways objectively worse

Like im sorry but looking at things thematically, if you told me Endeavor got off completely scott-free and his family still talks to him and he never even went to prison and still gets to keep his job as hero, but Shigaraki who was failed by society and literally poached and groomed as a child to become a villain while still forming bonds with his found family of other abused people and minorities is just KILLED AND DIES SMILING, I would say something like "oh is Horikoshi trying to make satirical commentary on how the broken corrupt system will fight like hell to uphold itself and this is actually metaphorical?" but nah it's just legitimately presented as a good thing and a good outcome

Genuinely? The way the series is ending is making me agree with Overhaul. If you think of Heroes and Quirks as a service or product, then tools can be invented to serve those same purposes. The way that Quirks developed in the universe of MHA is that they became used almost exclusively for combat based purposes, and to even use your quirk, which is also a part of your body or identity, you need special permissions and a license which I bet you costs money to apply for, so now you have the government regulating integral parts of people's identities, and also Quirks that change people's appearances are discriminated against and there aren't really any laws protecting against that

In a way, Overhaul was and still is entirely justified for thinking Quirks should be disposed of because the series is literally ending showing that Quirks are just being used to uphold government and corporate interests rather than actually do what's right? Quirks are literally increasing the severity with which humans can harm each other to the point it completely overshadows the good? Oh yeah I'm really glad we have a hero with super speed to help stop robberies, meanwhile the government has like a secret agent who is creating like nuke strikes on foreign countries, like... the good that Heroes can do? Can be easily done by humanity with tools

Like the way BNHA is ending is in my opinion, extremely dark? Deku was kind of just a clueless foot soldier upholding the dark government of his country and now All Might has no powers, Deku is gonna be Quirkless again, and everything is exactly the same? You could argue the only "win" that's coming out of the ending is that AFO is dead, but like.... someone with AFOs exact same powers could just be born again? Except maybe this time he can be, like, a government employee or a cop or something to really fit in with the core themes of the series :)

[sam-keeper]

Halloween Film: Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978)

I always loved the ending of the 1956 Invasion of the Body Snatchers, the classic sci fi film about replicant humans being grown from strange alien plant pods and taking over society. Well, I loved what was the ending, before the nervous studio tacked on a prologue and epilogue giving the film an optimistic (and contrived) conclusion. You know, where the main character runs out onto the road, desperately trying to halt oncoming traffic, to get anyone to listen as he cries, into the night, and finally directly into the camera at the audience, "They're here! You're next! YOU'RE NEXT!" For all the film's been interpreted as expressing red scare paranoia about communist infiltration (and even that's contested--others see it as a cry against McCarthyite witch hunts), the sheer manic shrieking energy of that finale lodged itself in my brain ever since I watched the film as a teenager. It was fearful, but it also was relatable, almost a kind of perverse power fantasy. Imagine, just imagine, screaming out from every theater screen and tv set: don't you see what's happening all around you? Look away from the screen if you like--they're already here!

The 1978 remake is actually a weird kind of precursor to our new phenomenon of the rebootquel: a short ways into the film, the main character of the original (literally--it's Kevin McCarthy, the original's star) slams into the car of our protagonists, ranting that blood curdling monologue. In this version, however, the pod people swiftly dispatch him off screen, and we get a creepy shot of a crowd of them standing silently, dispassionately, over his bloody broken body. That sums up the film's sense, contra the original, that it will already be too late by the time anyone notices anything wrong.

What a creepy film this is. It's astonishingly shot, full of striking images and brilliant camera work. Like, if you want reflections and shadows and distorted views of characters to feel fresh again, like they're more than hackneyed metaphor but really, viscerally unsettling, this is the film for you. There's a pervasive sense throughout that the worst has already happened, the world already gone strange when you turned your back. Instead of zombified mania and violence, there's a flatness to everything, a cool impassivity. The cast enhances this impassive flatness through contrast: it's a film full of brilliant weirdos as heroes. Scope Jeff Goldblum in this, for example, as a self absorbed neurotic owner of a mud bath house, and Veronica Cartwright as his Star Child wife. Even the relatively well adjusted main couple has their oddities: early in the film Brooke Adams as Elizabeth has a moment where she does this, fuckin, crazy thing with her eyes to make her friend Matthew laugh that's genuinely very funny and unsettling, and it immediately lends her character so much off beat humanity. These are people who have dedicated their lives to the department of health and they've got the zealotry that comes from being genuinely a bit of a weirdo for both bureaucracy and science. Indeed, Elizabeth's husband gets replaced early in the film by a pod she brings home to study out of pure curiosity about the world.

Elizabeth, soon after realizing there is something fundamentally wrong and alien about her husband, remarks to Michael that San Francisco feels suddenly strange to her, like an alien environment full of alien people. I feel this sometimes in Seattle. Oh, everywhere, but pronouncedly here, interacting with boomer or gen xer artists in my area who casually talk about the homeless like they're subhuman, with people on the street who will freely monologue about who we need to cleanse from the city, with our repulsive mayor and city council who verifiably think I and queers like me are disgusting. You get to thinking, or at least I do, that surely people don't have that much cruelty in their heart, and then you run up against the flat casual way a stranger will condemn a fellow human to oblivion, simply for the crime of being an unpleasant reminder of poverty. Every supposed red line gets crossed--local leaders pump money into already bloated police budgets, people shed their masks, politicians race to be the most xenophobic and border-paranoid, and the state department and media shovel dirt on the fire of each exploded Gazan hospital or butchered aid convoy. Am I supposed to feel secure in this tough new environment? All I hear is the panicked cry: YOU'RE IN DANGER! YOU'RE NEXT!

Donald Sutherland's character Matthew has a belief in institutions that's at once charming and completely exasperating. He's a health inspector who clearly cares deeply about doing his job and doing it well, and so is almost totally unequipped to respond when every social system transforms into a weapon to hunt and replace him. The number of times this man calls the police, often seemingly out of civic duty!! Meanwhile Leonard Nimoy plays a psychiatrist who manipulates and shepherds the cast. He's a pod person, of course, but it's totally unclear whether he was one the whole time or became one late in the film. The suggestion seems to be that it doesn't matter: his role as a professional is to smooth over social ruptures and keep the state of things running as stress free as possible, so he seamlessly adopts his role in the new dispassionate world order. I can't stop thinking, too, about a scene where Matthew and Elizabeth are caught out pretending to be pod people because they react with terrified revulsion to a homeless man who's accidentally been grotesquely fused with his pet dog. The pod people, of course, do not react to this sight, but go about their business. All that seems to have changed in pod person world is that the whole machinery of society carries on without emotion or meaning. The horror is that instead of ending, the world just keeps going.

Sarah and I discovered after watching that there's two other takes on The Body Snatchers, one in the 90s and one late in the Bush era 2000s. I guess that means we're about due for a new generational interpretation of the story. It's not quite like clockwork; maybe it's more like a seasonal bloom. Every 10-20 years, someone feels a compulsion to run to the cinemas and shout, to anyone who will listen, that they're already here, the pod people have already taken over while we were sleeping. And maybe they already have.

Check out more short reviews on my Patreon