#how those knocks have a deeper psychological meaning to them

[bxdbunni]

Knock knock?

Whose there ?

Mom ? Dad?

Are you really running to leave this place so soon? No can leave you alone here.

It’s a digital paradise.

He’s been running ever since his legs could carry him. He had never been happy, surrounded by white faces who told him this was his new home and his life. He was given everything, but something felt like it was missing. Always missing.

A part of himself he would never know, miles away from those who were like him.

They never had time for him. If he wanted toys, food, they didn’t hesitate but a hug? To be tucked into bed? Told bedtime stories? Mom was too busy and dad spent too many nights at the office.

Knock knock…

He hears those voices, they creep in the back of his mind like deathly long fingers scraping against the walls of his bedroom. He had long since become friends with the monsters under his bed. Years of neglect had made him a monster of his own.

Knock knock

Graduating didn’t feel like an achievement. His parents didn’t seem proud, it was expected of him to succeed. Night after night coming to an empty house. Knock knock? Who’s there? No one.

What was a life that felt empty? A home with lights barely on, with no laughter or voices to keep him from sinking into the worm hole of his mind. It was maddening.

Nothing can drown out the noise

No matter what you destroy

No matter who you become

No matter what you avoid

There was nothing for him in the face of reality. Those pesky emotions had become a sick and twisted game of a whack a mole. His hammer tight in his grip, ready to slam it down the second emotions he had buried deep even dared to rise to the surface. He’d slam that hammer down over and over again, desperate and angry to see it becoming harder and harder to hit. Harder to keep down.

By the end of it the only thing left of it is the handle torn from its head from how hard and fiercely he’d hit each one.

It was that knocking in his head. A door he didn’t want to open. A door he had been standing front of for years, knocks from the other side. He’d hesitated turning that knob, scared to see what was waiting on the other side. He was never looking for the exit.

Knock knock

KNOCK KNOCK

KNOCK KNOCK

Who cares.

[kingofbodyrolls]

Coming Home (m) | PJM (teaser)

It has been posted! 💜

| series masterlist | main masterlist | part one →

Okay. So I said that I’ve be writing again (been like ten years 🫣). Now I actually have something finished! 🎉I don’t know what happened! I planned to write like 5K words to get back into writing and then boom 40K+ 😆I like the story, but I’m unsure of the theme, but I want to post it anyway, just to celebrate that I finished something. I’ve split it into two chapters, so it’s a two shot with an epilogue. I’m currently editing it and putting my finishing touches on it, so I wanted to post a teaser for fun. So here’s two different snippets from ‘Coming Home’.

Pairing: Jimin x reader (female)

Genre/AU: Best friends to lovers!au, detective!jimin, slice of life, healing after trauma.

Rating: mature/explicit/R18

Summary

When your best friend, Park Jimin, who you’ve had a crush on since forever, suggests you stay at his house to heal and find yourself again after a series of traumatizing events had haunted you for years, you don’t hesitate to accept. Within those walls, a safe haven is woven, where wounds can heal and memories find release. As he nurtures your shattered spirit, an unexpected intimacy unfurls, leaving the fragile barrier between friendship and deeper emotions in question - can you keep your feelings hidden?

Word count (for whole series): approx. 43,5K

Warnings

Dark themes: mention of past abuse and sexual assault (r*pe), trauma, stalking, fighting, trust issues, insecurities, slightly thriller vibes. Other warnings include: angst, fluff, explicit smut (multiple scenes), kissing, cuddling, unprotected sex (better wrap it but, but if you wanna know, she’s on the pill), penetrative sex, oral sex (f and m receiving), slice of lice, healing after trauma (including therapy sessions), guns and blood (only in the beginning and end, and it’s very minor), BIG feelings, protective Jimin, previous character death (a parent), Jimin being soft and loving, self defense, humor.

Disclaimer about warnings

I know nothing about sexual or physical abuse (I only know psychological because I experienced that, not in a sexual context though). This story is fiction, I do not mean to say that this is how one would go through their emotions or handle this situation. This is a delicate and fragile subject, so proceed with caution. I also know nothing about police work or the work in emergency/hospitals.

Snippet 1

The empty streets seem to stretch endlessly, dim streetlights casting flickering shadows that dance around you. An eerie feeling tightens in your chest - what if he had followed you? Exhaustion gnaws at your limbs as you continue to run, legs turning to jelly beneath you. In the distance, a familiar fence and yard comes into view, you feel a twinge of hope surrounding your heart. You quicken your pace, stumbling forward, almost there. The front door is within reach, and relief wash over you. You slam your body against the door, desperate for refuge. Pain sears through your shoulder, but you hardly notice. Knocking feverishly, you hope someone, anyone, will answer in this dark hour. But the silence that follows only heightens the fear bubbling within you. The wind whispers, carrying with it haunting whispers that seem to echo your own terror.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

His eyes snap open, frustration already creeping into his mind. What in the world is going on outside this time? Those blasted drunk teenagers just never seem to learn, do they? Groaning, he begrudgingly leaves the comfort of his bed, fatigue tugging at every step he takes down the hall to the front door. Should he open it and scold them? Or maybe he should just yell from inside? 

“Go home and sleep it off!” he yells, clenching his jaw with irritation. Just as he turns to retreat to his bed, the knocking grows louder and more insistent. He can’t ignore it any longer, and what’s worse, he hears someone crying amidst the chaos. Mortified by the possibility that someone might be hurt, he gives in and opens the door. But what greets him, he had not expected at all. You.

Snippet 2

His pink plush lips, bitten and swollen, kissing you hungrily. His tongue asks permission to enter your mouth, as he rolls his clothed erection against your core. You feel the arousal building so damn fast, you can’t keep up. You tilt your head back, hitting the wall as you let out a frustrated sigh. The room suddenly feels twice as hot as it did before and you are desperate to cool down. In a hurried motion, you lift your hips and pull down both your leggings and pink lace panties. Finally feeling like the temperature is bearable, you open your legs with your pussy on full display. Hissing and panting, your right hand crawls down between your thighs and when you eventually reach your clit, you moan deliriously.

[8hsaturn]

hiii is this format okay? id like to request a synastry reading between my boyfriend and i!

thank you so much in advance

When it comes to synastry I like to focus on the most important planets/houses for each person, and then how those interact.

So in your case (partner A), your most important placements would be Sun conjunct Lilith in the 10th house, Moon conjunct Venus in Aries, and Mars on the ascendant opposite Jupiter. Not to say that your other placements aren’t as important, but these might stand out the most in this synastry reading.

As for your boyfriend (partner B), his sun is conjunct Mercury at the exact degree in the 10th house, as well as loosely conjunct Venus and Saturn in the 9th, and his libra moon is on the ascendant.

At first glance, we notice that both of you have a strong solar influence on the 10th house, so you could find it easy to capture people’s attention when it comes to matters related to the theme of your MC sign. For you, that could entail anything from entrepreneurship to activism, even athleticism. While for your boyfriend with his cancer MC, it could be psychology, working with children, or real estate.

That being said, A could’ve been charmed by B’s caregiving nature and openness to others while still remaining fairly private. On the other side, B could’ve admired A’s assertiveness and confrontational nature. Both of you share strong core values which could lead to you either clashing or complementing each other, depending on whether your values converged or not.

The 10th house tells us a lot about public image, but the ascendant is important to understand how we come across to others as well as how we perceive them and the world.

For A, your Mars is on the ascendant, further enhancing your Aries influence, and this very aspect -MC ruler in the 1st house- is present in B’s chart as well, making their lunar cancer influence stronger too. BTW, recurrent or similar aspects in charts tend to indicate a fated relationship in many spiritual beliefs, as both people could’ve met in previous lifetimes.

A has their Mars opposite Jupiter, this can indicate a very charming personality that’s very energetic & ambitious and can intimidate others because of the raw nature through which A communicates. Nevertheless, A’s Mars falls into B’s 4th house, so that fiery nature could feel familiar and even comforting. They might appreciate your ability to knock down whoever you want with collected ease (Aquarius Mars). And while you have a lot of Aries influence in the 10th house, the fact it's ruled by a Saturnian sign makes you far more levelheaded and calculated, which could’ve pushed B’s inquisitive cancer instinct to dig deeper.

Here’s the best part: Synastry overlays! While we’ve mentioned A’s Mars overlaying B’s 4th house hence the sense of being “at home” with A no matter what they’re doing. Other synastry overlays would be:

MC - AKA the most prominent angle for both- square each other, this means that while you might have similar goals and values, the way you go about getting things done can be different. (A can be more confrontational, and emotionally detached while B can be more passive but “petty”), depending on how well you two communicate and compromise, this could either be good for maintaining a lively relationship or simply a recipe for petty fights.

Your neptunes conjunct each other in A’s 7th house and B’s 4th house, both angular houses. This could make both of you sort of idealize each other or excuse your wrongdoings, which could lead to an acute feeling of disappointment whenever your partner messes up, especially if the mistake is lying or deceiving. Just keep in mind that your partner isn’t perfect and that their mistakes don’t define you or them unless it’s a persistent pattern with no attempts at making things better. That aside, you might have some sort of “telepathic link” where you can instinctively know and understand each other’s needs. 

Uranus conjunct each other in A’s 8th house and B’s 5th house could mean that your relationship could’ve started in a pretty unconventional so that it stands out from the rest. For A, it could be one where they learned to be more accepting of their insecurities and eccentricities. Both of you are independent and unique people with your own ambitions in life which balances out the Neptune influence. A could introduce B to new ways to enjoy their time together and could be a breath of fresh air in their life.

A’s Venus and Moon on B’s descendant is such a good placement. It indicates the presence of an instant strong pull towards each other, especially to B. B sees A as their ideal partner both physically and emotionally, they’re the exact type of person they see themselves committing to and could even see themselves getting married. Assuming B is your boyfriend, the descendant embodies what his ideal partner is, and bringing Venus energy to the descendant entails you’re his ideal of femininity. Since it’s in Aries however, that ideal could be one where he prefers a more unique, eccentric, and go-getter sort of person and that would be you. Furthermore, you want to create a harmonious relationship, and while there are definitely compromises and adjustments to be made, don’t sacrifice too much just to maintain peace. 

Moons opposite each other is another very interesting placement, while harsh aspects tend to gather a notorious reputation in astro communities, they are actually the source of growth and liveliness in relationships and are necessary to balance out trines and conjunctions. With this aspect, A and B might each see different sides of a situation and thus can have different ways to deal with it. When they communicate well, they manage to see the wider picture and have interesting insights. You are as similar as you are different and feel as if you complete each other, which can push you to always want to learn more about your partner.

Venus square Venus, both of you have Venus in each other’s 9th houses: A has a cancer Venus while B has an Aries Venus. There´s a lot of doom talk about how it's an aspect that entails romantic disagreements or nothing going right and that's absolutely wrong. I personally have this synastry aspect with my closest friends and if anything, they're my most understanding and long-lasting friendships. When both people are communicative, transparent, and mature, this aspect translates into two people who share the same rhythm (due to the same modality) in relationships and thus you don't need to worry about being too rushed or too slow. you could have different priorities in love, A might prefer banter and teasing instead of traditional romantic advances while B is more affectionate and delicate in their expression, so as long as you understand each other's boundaries and needs, this aspect can end up leading you to grow and mature from your relationship! You might also enjoy discussing the big questions of life together and anything that expands your minds, and could also both enjoy traveling and meeting new people who are different for you.

[arrowpusher]

Book Review #4: Everything is Fucked, A Book About Hope (by Mark Manson)

For a long time, I had wanted to read The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck, but it's always checked out at the library. I read the author's other book which also has good reviews.

I've heard of the concept of "caring too much". It sounds narcissistic, but I feel like my perfectionist mindset makes me OCD and uselessly stress over the tiniest details. I thought this would be a good read for myself.

I read ~3/4. It was the only entertainment I brought while waiting all day for a concert, but still, I got bored and couldn't really bring myself to finish it. While some parts were interesting, most of it either felt like it was rambling or got too philosophical.

The basic premise of the book is that, realistically speaking, problems are inevitable.

"Hope doesn't care about the problems that have already been solved. Hope cares only about the problems that still need to be solved. Because the better the world gets, the more we have to lose."

"You blame yourself for failing to live up to your God Value, regardless of how ill-advised that God Value is. You can see this same cycle of desperation play out in all sorts of other areas. Fitness and diet plans, political activism, self-help seminars… the message is always the same: the more you do it, the more you're told you need to do it to finally experience the satisfaction you've been promised. Yet that satisfaction never comes."

"Human pain is like a game of Whac-A-Mole. Every time you knock down one kind of pain, another one pops up. And the faster you whack them, the faster they come back."

It delves into why and how we feel hope.

"To build and maintain hope, we need three things: a sense of control, a belief in the value of something, and a community. 'Control' means we feel as though we're in control of our own life, that can affect our fate. 'Values' means we find something important enough to work toward, something better that's worth striving for. And 'community' means we are part of a group that values the same things we do and is working on achieving those things."

"Here's the funny thing about value hierarchies: when they change, you don't actually lose anything… That's because 'fun' is the product of our value hierarchies. When we stop valuing something, it ceases to be fun or interesting to us. Therefore, there is no sense of loss, no sense of missing out when we stop doing it it. On the contrary, we look back and wonder how we ever so much time caring about such a silly, trivial thing, why we wasted so much energy on issues and causes that didn't matter. These pangs of regret or embarrassment are good; they signify growth. They are the product of our achieving our hopes."

"Experiences generate emotions. Emotions generate values. Values generate narratives of meaning. And people who share similar narratives of meaning come together."

It also explores feelings from a psychological angle.

"Some people's Thinking Brains have ignored their Feeling Brains for so long that it takes them a while to learn how to listen again."

"This whole 'teach your Thinking Brain to decipher and cooperate with your Feeling Brain instead of judging him and thinking he's an evil piece of shit' is the basis for CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy and ACT (acceptance and commitment therapy)."

"Equalization is present in every experience because the drive to equalize is emotion itself. Sadness is a feeling of powerlessness to make up for a perceived loss. Anger is the desire to equalize through force and aggression. Happiness is feeling liberated from pain, while guilt is the feeling that you deserve some pain that never arrived."

More specifically, it analyzes how your upbringing affects your outlook on life.

"Our identities snowball through our lives, accumulating more and more values and meaning as they tumble along... The longer we've held a value, the deeper inside the snowball it is and the more fundamental it is to how we see ourselves and how we see the world. Like interest on a bank loan, our values compound compound over time, growing stronger and coloring future experiences. It's not just the bullying from when you were in grade school that fucks you up. It's the bullying plus all the self-loathing and narcissism you brought to decades worth of future relationships, causing them all to fail, that adds up over time."

"...the longer we've held onto these narratives, the less aware we are that we have them... Despite being arbitrary and completely made up, they seem not only natural but inevitable."

"The only way to change our values is to have experiences contrary to our values. And any attempt to break free from these values through new or contrary experiences will inevitably be met with pain and discomfort. It's why it is impossible to become someone new without first grieving the loss of who you used to be."

"Ideologies, because they're constantly challenged, changed, proven, and then disprove, offer scant psychological stability upon which to build one's hope."

It goes further into different stages in life, how experiences are processed, and how that leads to frustration or satisfaction. It's simplified in a diagram: Child -> pleasure. Adolescent -> principles -> pleasure. Adult -> principles

Children who are abused or coddled often end up stuck in their childhood value system. "Instead of predictable failures, his experience is just random and cruel… Therefore, no lesson is learned. No higher values are produced. No development takes place. The child never learns to control his own behavior and develops coping mechanisms to deal with the incessant pain." "People get stuck in the adolescent stage of values for similar reasons that they get stuck with childish values: trauma and/or neglect… A person who has been bullied in his younger years will move through the world with an assumed understanding that no one will ever like or respect him unconditionally, that all affection must be hard-won through a series of practiced conversation and canned actions."

"Adolescents need to be shown that bargaining is a never-ending treadmill, that the only things in life of real value and meaning are achieved without conditions, without transactions.

"Making the leap of faith into a virtuous adulthood requires not just an ability to endure pain, but also the courage to abandon hope, to let go of the desire for things always to be better or more pleasant or a ton of fun. Your Thinking Brain will tell you that this is illogical, that your assumptions must inevitably be wrong in some way. Yet, you do it anyway. Your Feeling Brain will procrastinate and freak out about the pain of brutal honesty, the vulnerability that comes with loving someone, the fear that comes from humility. Yet, you do it anyway."

And this random witty quote that I have mentally bookmarked in case I ever need a catchy snappy comeback phrase.

"I think your mind is so open your brain fell out." --Carl Sagan

I think the biggest takeaway was the concept of amor fati (This is also the name of an Epik High song; now I'm curious to look more into the lyrics).

Amor fati is "love of one's fate". "Amor fati... meant the unconditional acceptance of all life and experience: the highs and the lows, the meaning and the meaninglessness. It meant loving one's pain, embracing one's suffering. It meant closing the separation between one's desires and reality not striving for more desires, but by simply desiring reality."

"Hope for nothing... Hope for this. Hope for the infinite opportunity and oppression present in every single moment. Hope for the suffering that comes with freedom. For the pain that comes from happiness. For the wisdom that comes from ignorance. For the power that comes from surrender. And then act despite it.

"To act without hope. To not hope for better. To be better."

My critique in a nutshell: this book laments existential crises while unfortunately tripping the reader into them.

[lizbotw]

no offense but atsumu’s kind of known as the life ruiner on campus. not because he’s necessarily mean or out to get anyone (although he does like to swipe up on your snapchat stories and talk shit about your dirty mirror), but because he’s just really an idiot.

the campus courtyard is a place of many happenings, covered in cold stone slabs and stone benches under fraying trees with a glimmering expanse of green in the center (very popular for picnics). it’s the spot where you first met atsumu as a freshman when he knocked you over trying to learn how to skateboard and it’s where you sit with him now on one of those infamous stone benches for your daily catch-up-slash-gossip-spilling session.

“was i not supposed to tell her about the pickles?”

“of course you were. it’s really important she knows what she’s getting herself into. good on you, ‘sumu!” you say with the sweetest smile you can muster. you’re both sitting crossed legged in the shade, backpacks cradled in your laps. to your left, a member of some fundraising club is handing out yellow flyers with bold red letters up top and clip art of trees on either side. to your right, a group of friends heads down the path to the library complaining about their upcoming psychology exam.

atsumu is either oblivious to the sarcasm twisting in ugly rivets through your words or simply chooses to believe he’s just hearing things, because he actually smiles when you say that and brightens up.

for fuck’s sake—you break the news to him, dropping the act. “no, you were not supposed to tell her sometimes you eat pickles and ice cream when you’re drunk! what’s wrong with you?”

atsumu deflates.

“i thought you said sharing secrets was good.”

“not that kind!”

he tries to argue, opens his mouth, pauses, closes it, opens it again, and then purses his lips and stares out across the quad in resignation. “next time be more specific,” he huffs.

you actually feel a little bad for him. he’s got it all—star athlete on the volleyball team, top of his classes, well-liked, knows all the best party spots, charismatic, funny at times (you begrudgingly admit), and—a realization you’ve decided you have to accept eventually—attractive. (like, really attractive. you called him hot to his face once but obviously that was a joke. haha.)

it makes no sense that atsumu’s single, especially considering he’s actively trying to change that. consequently, he’s never gotten past second base in any serious relationship he’s tried to pursue—it’s always silly little things like this with the pickles that fuck everything up. then again, you don’t blame anyone who decides they’re dealbreakers because as atsumu’s best friend for ever and ever and ever (according to your friendship bracelets from claire’s), you too are quite frankly horrified at half the things he does.

atsumu is known as a life ruiner because everyone loves him, everyone wants him, but it just never ends well—his heartbreaker status is entirely accidental but it’s there nonetheless. socially, he flourishes. romantically, he’s a mess.

you’re starting to think the only reason he has a serious reputation as a player is because everyone he’s been with is too embarrassed to say why things really ended between them. props to him for being so terrible, you guess.

judging by the amount of students pouring out of the applied sciences building in the distance, a bio 102 lecture just ended and it’s nearly 2 P.M. wonderful. prime time to go pick up some chicks during rush hour at the dining hall.

you uncross your legs and stand from the bench, slinging your bag over your shoulder. atsumu watches you with all the dejection of a man who has had to face the reality of how embarrassing something he did was. that’ll probably keep him up at night for a while.

you pat his head good naturedly because you think it’ll help. “get up. i’m going to get you a date if it’s the last thing i do.” time to go play cupid. you start off across the courtyard, weaving in and out of the mass of students, and deciding to cut across the grass as a shortcut. you don’t check if he’s right behind you but you don’t have to.

atsumu rises, half-zipped backpack in tow, and follows you, mimicking your footsteps. he bites back a laugh when he sees you nearly trip over a stack of novels someone placed next to them on the grass, and smiles when you start profusely apologizing to the bespectacled kid, gathering up the books that had toppled over and restacking them neatly—that’s just like you.

when you stand from your crouched position, you see him watching you and stiffen out of embarrassment for a moment—then you wave him over and start back stomping off deeper into campus so you don’t have to face him about your clumsiness.

atsumu jogs to catch up with you and shoves you with his shoulder when he reaches up, playfully chastising you for leaving him like that. you’re laughing, beaming, talking the rest of the way there like always and he finds your mood contagious as you exchange quips.

atsumu wonders when he should tell you you’re the real reason he can never properly date anyone.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #167

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re making the single horniest character in FGO (in every sense of the word), Heaven’s Hole, a.k.a. Kiara Sessyoin. One half enlightened saint, 99% insatiable demon, all NSFW. Kiara’s an Open-Hand Monk to give off that aura of purity she loves so much, but she’s also a Great Old One Warlock to finally answer the question, “Can you really be a warlock if your patron is yourself?” (The answer is yes)

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: Cheer for your empress! Wooooo!

Race and Background

Kiara may be human, but she’s been infused with the spirit of an otherworldly horror. That’s a Kalashtar, baby! This gives her +2 Wisdom and +1 Charisma, as well as some other mentally themed goodies. Your Dual Mind gives you advantage on all wisdom saves, and your religious training gives you the Mental Discipline to resist psychic damage. You can Mind Link to creatures within 10 times your level in feet, speaking to them telepathically for up to an hour or until you end the effect or link with another creature. Finally, you’re Severed from Dreams, meaning you’re immune to spells involving your dreams. Sleep still works, Dream doesn’t. God I wish that was me, it would make youtube so much less annoying.

As a Devilish Bodhisattva, you’re kind of a Sage, giving you proficiency with the Arcana and History skills.

Ability Scores

First things first, you’ve got to be so hot you can make people masturbate to death. That’s non-negotiable. I’ll leave the exact mechanics of that to your imagination, but it’s probably based on Charisma. Aside from manipulating people, you’re also just as good at reading people, and that’s Wisdom. You fight in a habit and  do it all without dying, so your Dexterity isn’t that bad either. Unfortunately this leaves your Intelligence a little lower than we’d like. You’re a hacker nun, but we needed other stuff more. Your Constitution isn’t that great, you’re so eager for pleasure you don’t last that long. Finally, dump Strength. You’ve got a demon god to do all the lifting for you, who needs muscles?

Class Levels

1. Monk 1: Starting off as a monk gives you Unarmored Defense, which is really useful for that “not dying” thing you like to do. You also get Martial Arts, letting you use your dexterity for your unarmed attacks. You can also attack as a bonus action after attacking with your action, and your unarmed attacks deal 1d4 damage, and they grow as you level up.

You get proficiency with Strength and Dexterity Saves, as well as Insight for your psychological training, and Religion for the whole nun/buddhist thing. You have a lot going on as a character, to be honest.

2. Monk 2: Second level monks get Ki Points they can spend to attack twice, dash, disengage, or dodge as a bonus action. You also get Unarmored Movement to speed things up a bit, and you get even faster as you level up.

3. Monk 3: Third level monks can summon a bit of demon pillar to Deflect Missiles, slowing down incoming ranged weapons and possibly even shooting them back as a reaction. (Obviously the demon thing isn’t all monks, but hush.) You also set down the Way of the Open Hand, learning the Open Hand Technique in the process. When you hit a creature with a flurry of blows attack (the two attacks as a bonus action thing), you can: force a dexterity save to knock the enemy prone; force a strength save to push it away; or remove its ability to react for the round. I’m not sure how you touching a person makes them fall to their knees or get distracted, get your mind out of the gutter.

4. Monk 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Dexterity so you can actually hit people with your fists. You can also Slow Fall to reduce falling damage, presumably by swinging around on a demon pillar like some kind of spider woman, and you get Quickened Healing, letting you spend a ki point as an action to heal thy burgers. Despite your looks, you’re pretty tanky with all that healing.

5. Monk 5: Your Extra Attack does exactly what it sounds like, attacking twice in a single action. You can turn any of your attacks into Stunning Strikes, forcing a constitution save against getting stunned for a round. Ironically this is just leading into the explosive climax, where you beat the hell out of them. Where did you think I was going with that?

6. Monk 6: Sixth level monks get a little magical thanks to their Ki-Empowered Strikes so now your unarmed attacks ignore nonmagical damage resistances. You also gain a Wholeness of Body to heal yourself as an action. Unlike quickened healing, this baby heals you for 3 times your monk level once per long rest.

7. Warlock 1: Making your hands a little magical is nice, but we want to make stuff a lot of magical, and for that we’ll need to make some questionable deals. That’s where the Great Old One comes in, giving you Pact Magic you can cast with your Charisma and an Awakened Mind. It’s more telepathy. Not a huge boon, but now you can talk to two people at once, neat!

As far as spells go, Chill Touch lets you make creepy hands (kind of your thing), and Eldritch Blast gives you some generic magic projectiles. Charm Person makes you a bit more charming, and Protection from Evil and Good will help cut through those pesky rulers more easily by just straight up ignoring their god.

8. Warlock 2: Second level warlocks get Eldritch Invocations, to customize your soul pact a bit. Beguiling Influence makes you proficient with Deception and Persuasion to help cover up the whole demon pillar thing, and Thief of Five Fates lets you cast Bane with a spell slot once per long rest, further weakening your enemies.

You can also cast Arms of Hadar to launch more arms all around you for an AoE attack.

9. Warlock 3: Kiara’s definitely a weird one when it comes to her pact boon. Books have kind of fallen out of fashion by 2030, she doesn’t use weapons, and she really doesn’t care for a sidekick. That leaves her with the Pact of the Talisman to make her a little bit better than everyone else, letting the wearer add 1d4 to a failed ability check Proficiency times per long rest.

She can also cast second level spells now, like Enthrall! She’s the only person in the world according to herself, and now she is to you too! Just fail that wisdom save and you’ll have disadvantage on perception checks to notice anyone else!

10. Warlock 4: Use this ASI to bump up your Charisma for stronger warlock spells. You also get the On/Off cantrip from a super old UA to become a bit of a hacker, magically turning on or off an electronic device within range. You can also Detect Thoughts to be one hell of a therapist, being able to read the mind of a nearby creature as an action while the spell lasts. You can read surface thoughts over and over again, or you can probe deeper into the mind of a creature you’ve already read, forcing a wisdom save against the intrusion. Also, creatures are aware you’re reading their mind, and they can force a contested intelligence check to end the spell while they’re being read.

11. Warlock 5: Your first 3rd level spell is Hypnotic Pattern, to help dominate the minds of crowds all at once. You can also Mire the Mind to cast Slow once per long rest with a spell slot. Up to six creatures make a wisdom save, or they have their speed and AC reduced, take a penalty to dexterity saves, and can’t use reactions. On their turns, they can make either an action or bonus action, not both. It also can’t make more than one attack per turn. Finally, spellcasters affected by the spell have a 50% chance of taking 2 turns to cast a 1 action spell. Another wisdom save at the end of each turn can end the effect.

12. Warlock 6: All those hands and mind tricks coalesce into an Entropic Ward this level, letting you spend your reaction to impose disadvantage on an incoming attack. If it misses, you get advantage on your next attack against that creature. You can use this once per short rest.

You can also slip into your Heaven’s Hole persona by donning a Spirit Shroud, dealing more damage within a short area around you, preventing healing from enemies you hit with attacks, and slowing them down even further.

13. Monk 7: Bouncing back into monk gives you the Stillness of Mind to end effects messing with your thoughts as an action. The only person around here doing any charming today is you, thank you very much. You’d also be correct in saying the only person around here period is you, but I digress.

Your Evasion boosts your dexterity saves, so your failures are as good as other people’s successes, and your successes avoid damage entirely.

14. Monk 8: Use this ASI to bump up your Wisdom to become more observant, and get stronger techniques and a higher AC.

15. Monk 9: Ninth level monks get an Unarmored Movement Improvement, helping you run straight up walls and over water, as long as you end the turn on solid ground. Admittedly that’s not very in-character, but you’ve got tentacles growing outta ya, I’m sure you can justify it somehow.

16. Monk 10: Tenth level monks have a Purity of Body that makes you immune to poisons and disease.

17. Monk 11: Your final level of monk grants you a Tranquility that makes you harder to hit, effectively giving you the effect of a Sanctuary spell starting and ending on your long rests, though the spell ends early if you directly attack or cast a spell at an enemy. While active, creatures trying to attack you directly have to make a wisdom save. If they fail, they have to choose a new target or waste their action. The DC is 8 + your wisdom modifier + your proficiency bonus.

18. Warlock 7: Seventh level monks get fourth level spells, like Evard’s Black Tentacles. A 20′ square becomes a mass of tentacles (or demon god pillars), forcing a dexterity save against taking bludgeoning damage and get restrained. They can use their action to try and escape the tentacles, otherwise they don’t get a save on their next turn to avoid damage.

You can also use your Gaze of Two Minds to see and hear though a willing humanoid, like, say, your enthralled servants. Great for espionage, or just being a creep in general.

19. Warlock 8: Use your last ASI to max out your Charisma for super strong spells and the most sex appeal you can squeeze into a single servant.

You can also cast Summon Aberration now to give Zepar a bit of breathing room outside of your body. Honestly the poor guy deserves a break.

20. Warlock 9: Ninth level warlocks get fifth level spells, and Dominate Person lets you completely take over a creature’s mind. They have a wisdom save to avoid it, and they can make another every time they take damage, but if you’re forcing them into a really one sided fight, like say, against an agent of the counter force, that’ll be a one hit kill, so you don’t have to worry too much.

You also get one last invocation, and the Grasp of Hadar turns your eldritch blasts into even more hands, so once per turn you can pull a creature hit by the blast 10 feet closer to you. Bet they thought they were real smug waiting on the other side of your tentacle pit, huh?

Pros:

With an AC of 16, tons of mobility, and a wisdom save between you and even getting hit in the first place, you can be tough to attack, giving you a weird sort of tankiness to avoid conflict altogether.

You’re also good at manipulating people, with charms, mind reading, and just good persuasion scores making it easy for you to turn the tide of a conversation in your favor. Also if you’re having trouble with an enemy you can just dominate them and tell them to jump off a cliff, really easy. You won’t even have to fight if you can just inspire a mob to do it for you.

While the biggest part of your defense does come with a caveat, you’re good at indirect combat, which will keep your sanctuary up longer. Sure, you can’t cast spells affecting a creature, but you can always cast a spell now, and have it affect a creature later, the old “I’m just moving my fist and walking forward, if you get hit it’s your own fault” technique. Putting Evard’s Tentacles down between you and enemies, summoning aberrations, and just using On/Off to cause industrial accidents are all ways to get around this restriction and leave you looking clean as a brand new pair of panties.

Cons:

Your dexterity isn’t great, especially for a monk. That’ll make it harder to effectively use your martial techniques later in the game, and it also hampers your AC.

Despite all your defenses and healing, you’re still only rocking a touch over 100 HP, meaning a light sneeze will put you into power word kill territory. Which is, admittedly, still affected by your Tranquility, so it might not be a bad way to trick people into wasting a 9th level spell...

You only get two spells per short rest, that just isn’t enough to manipulate everyone you want to, so you’ll have to learn to pick and choose what happens when.

[femalehumanoid]

Fluff Alphabet - Keevan

A ctivities – What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Keevan likes to spend an occasional evening simply talking to you. Let’s face it – the list of his psychological issues and traumas is a lengthy one, but he adamantly refuses to see a counselor, so that leaves the only person he can trust – you. He tells you stories from his past, ranging from funny and entertaining to tragic and horrible; for the most part you just listen, offering an appropriate comment here and there or squeezing his hand in encouragement. You have long since learned that tearing up and trying to hug him outright is a bad idea in such moments – he sees it as pity and closes up immediately, refusing to reveal anything remotely close to personal for weeks afterwards.

But your talks are not always about his past – in fact, your discussion topics are vastly varied. He’s lived many lifetimes and knows a lot, so he has an opinion on just about everything. He relishes finally being able to discuss his true thoughts without having to constantly look over his shoulder and filter which opinions are safe to share and which ones could be used against him.

As for other activities, Keevan’s a bit of a hedonist, so he wouldn’t say no to a day at a holosuite spa or a short trip to the pleasure planet together. Freedom from the Dominion didn’t make him any less of an asshole, so when you’re in public – say, lounging at the beach on Risa – he’ll occasionally make scathing (and, unfortunately, quite funny) observations about the passersby under his breath. You feel bad for snickering at the especially insulting comments, but ultimately don’t have the heart to tell him off because he looks so pleased with himself when he manages to make you laugh.

B eauty – What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Being a Vorta, Keevan is of course devoid of an aesthetic sense as such. That doesn’t mean that he can’t deduce by the reactions of others that you are beautiful – and boy, does it stroke his ego to see people eyeing you with appreciation (and him with jealousy) when you dress up and go out in public together.

While he can’t fully perceive your beauty visually, he admires your lips for their softness, your hands for their warmth, your eyes for the way you look at him.

On a more general note, what Keevan appreciates most about you is your behavior towards him. Sure, you have many other admirable qualities – you’re fun, and charming, and intelligent – but he’s met a plethora of fun, charming and intelligent people, and you’re the only one who truly loves and accepts him.

C omfort – how would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Before he met you, Keevan had very little experience in comforting another person or providing genuine emotional support, so he’ll be somewhat stiff the first few times you show this type of vulnerability in front of him. But as soon as he’ll realize you’re looking to him for comfort, he’ll soften and open his arms for an embrace. Next thing you know, you’ll be sitting on his lap, telling him your woes and being sweet-talked to death.

By the way, if the reason for your distress is another person, you can rest assured that they would regret what they did – Keevan would make sure of it.

D reams -  How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Keevan is happy to leave the decision of where you’re going to live fully in your hands, but if you were to ask him, he’d recommend a smaller planet with comfortable climate and of little strategic value (so that it’d be left alone if another war were to erupt). But even though he’s mostly indifferent towards the finer details of your life together, it doesn’t mean that he’s not thinking about the future. The longer you are together, the clearer it becomes to him that one lifetime with you wouldn’t be enough. So, he starts to make discreet inquiries with his old contacts at various cloning facilities – is the Dominion technology suitable for cloning a human? How would one go about it? You won’t hear a word of it until Keevan knows for sure it’s possible, and one day he nonchalantly drops the offer on you like it’s not one of the most life-changing decisions with plenty of questionable ethical implications. In his mind, the decision has already been made, and he’s not above manipulating you into accepting if that means he gets to be with you forever.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or are they rather passive?

On the surface Keevan might appear passive, simply because he doesn’t expend energy caring about most things. You want to take an assignment on a different planet? Fine, he’ll come along - as long as you’ll have enough free time to devote to him, that is. You’re feeling frisky and want to explore your dominant side? Oh, he’s way into that.

In the past, when he was a servant of the Dominion, he had to constantly assert his dominance to keep his position, but nowadays he mostly reserves those impulses for the bedroom. However, there are some things he’s not willing to compromise on at all. You’re not going on that dangerous mission even if he has to tie you to the bed. That ex of yours that recently came into your life again and is behaving suspiciously flirty? Oh look, a week later they’ve decided to take a trip to another part of the galaxy and not return, totally of their own accord.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How is their fighting?

For both your sakes, let’s hope you’re more diplomatic than he is. Fighting with Keevan goes one of two ways – it’s either a nightmare because he knows exactly what to say to make it hurt, OR your heated exchange turns into an even more heated reconciliation and you both forget what you were fighting about in the first place.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Even if Keevan doesn’t often show it, he is grateful. He knows he’s not the easiest person to get along with, and he is aware of the effort you’re putting into the relationship and into helping him through his issues even when he’s being a total prick.

He does try to smooth his edges when he’s around you (around others, not so much) and takes note of the little things that make you happy – how you light up when he takes your hand, or when he remembers how you take your morning beverage – and consciously does it more often.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything? 

Keevan wouldn’t necessarily call them ‘secrets’, simply certain information that you don’t need to know. Some details of his past, for example – stories that could traumatize you – and why would he do that to a person he loves? You will rarely catch him lying to you outright, but some things he simply omits, like how he’s convinced your colleague to back off from that assignment you really wanted.

Also, he often has trouble sharing his emotions, partly because he’s been repressing them for so long that even he can’t get to the bottom of what he’s feeling at times.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Your relationship has transformed both of you in some respects. It might not have been smooth sailing, especially in the beginning, but it’s the healthiest relationship Keevan’s ever been in, and you’ve been gradually helping him heal and move on from a lot of trauma of his past. As for you, Keevan has taught you to be more assertive and you learned to accept the darker parts of your own psyche like you accepted the worst sides of his.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Keevan is extremely prone to jealousy, and he doesn’t bother to hide it. He likes to cultivate a reputation of a person who’s not to be crossed, and with his sadistic streak scaring people comes easily to him. That way, he can be reasonably sure no-one is going to dare take what’s his – namely, you. 

But if he catches you being too friendly (in his opinion) to, say, some bar patron, he won’t hesitate to come up and insert himself into the conversation, only to artfully insult the unfortunate person, smirking and possessively holding your hip all the while. If you think getting punched in the face by a huge Klingon for such behavior would deter him, you’d be dead wrong.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

He’s a wonderful kisser – and very intense. Your first kiss happened in the middle of a heated argument, one moment you were getting in each other’s face, angrily flushing pink and aubergine respectfully, and the next you’re furiously kissing and knocking down the nearby furniture in an attempt to pin the other to the wall.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Not in a healthy way, I’m afraid. For the longest time, he would be in denial as to the nature of his feelings towards you. Lust, he could understand – but you seem to behave in a way that implies deeper feelings. Out of curiosity, he would let himself get closer to you, and after a while he’d discover with great surprise that he has developed feelings towards you as well. Weaknesses like that tended to get one killed in the Dominion (and that’s the best-case scenario), and despite the big changes after the war, that fear would still be fresh in his mind. But even regardless of that, getting seriously involved with someone would bring out a myriad of other fears and insecurities. What if it doesn’t work out? What if he opens up to you and that scares you off? What if he becomes attached and something happens to you? It’s safer not to get involved. Without explanation, he’d start avoiding you, thereby hurting your feelings, and one night when you’re crying, drinking wine and nursing your broken heart, you decide that enough is enough and you deserve an explanation. You march to his quarters and barge in as soon as the doors slide open, to Keevan’s astonishment and slight indignation (since when are you so bold?). After that, there’s a lot of shouting, finger pointing and angry confessions, followed by passionate kissing. The next morning, you’d hear a whisper that sounds a lot like ‘I love you’ while you’re still half-asleep in his bed, but you’re not sure if that really happened or if you dreamt it.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

If you want to get married, you’re going to have to explain to him the significance of that ritual because Keevan doesn’t really understand why you need to involve the government, or even worse – god – in your personal affairs. Although your explanation won’t likely change his mind on the matter, if he sees that you really, really want to get married, he’ll concede. But under no circumstances will Keevan agree to a religious ceremony of any sort – his experiences with gods (i.e. the Founders) have embittered him to any form of religion, so he’ll never sully the matter of such intimacy and importance as your union with mentions of any god, be they real or imaginary.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Pet, darling, sweet thing. Princess, in certain situations (😉). He starts out using the nicknames sarcastically, but at some point it becomes one of his ways to show genuine affection towards you.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious to others? How do they express their feelings?

At first, Keevan in love seems even more aloof than usual. His thoughts keep returning to you, thinking and overthinking everything, imagining all the ways your relationship could go wrong and even more ways it could go right.

The others truly start to notice the changes in his behavior only when he’s with you. His movements gain a bit more grace and sensuality, he doesn’t pass up an opportunity to make a clever snarky comment where he otherwise wouldn’t have bothered. He subtly puts himself in your personal space and holds your gaze for meaningful lengths of time. In other words, he is infatuated with you, which is obvious to everyone present.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

PDA? Yes, please! Keevan’s displays of affection border on exhibitionistic. If you’re too embarrassed, he’ll tone it down, of course - but not by much, so you might as well forget about having any shame at all when he’s around. While he doesn’t tend to be too clingy in public, he thinks nothing of groping your ass if the mood strikes him, undressing you with his eyes or whispering suggestively into your ear and making you blush. Bragging about you and showing you off is par for the course.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship

Keevan has an uncanny ability to stay level-headed in dangerous situations, and years of serving as a field supervisor have taught him to always have a plan B, C and ideally ten more, just in case. So if anything happens, you can rely on him to get you both out of trouble.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative? 

While not romantic in a classical sense, Keevan does try to keep you happy in his own way. He prefers to hide the true amount of effort he puts into the seemingly little things he’s doing for you – what it’s like to hear the whispers about his race when you’re on a date on a Federation planet, or how draining it is to socialize with your friends (you have to threaten not to talk to him for a week if he doesn’t behave civilly).

Aside from that, Keevan likes to make an occasional grand gesture to impress you – there’s nothing he loves more than seeing the awe and admiration in your eyes and hearing you praise him. Basically, flattery will get you anywhere with this Vorta.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

He knows that you’re talented enough to excel at anything you put your mind to. If you want to advance your career, he can offer you plenty of useful (if sometimes unethical) advice on how to do that quickly. But if you want him to actually do something to help, you’re going to have to ask veeery nicely. In rare cases he does help without being asked - but don’t get used to it.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Over the iterations, Keevan was known to be, shall we say, adventurous, so there isn’t much that is truly new to him. The only thing that’s actually novel is the significance of the relationship. Did he ever wake up in bed with an attractive stranger? Sure, many times. Had he ever woken up next to the person he loves? You are the first. He wants to relish every new thing he gets to experience with you, so he isn’t in a hurry to try out everything all at once.

U nderstanding - How well do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Keevan isn’t terribly empathetic, but he can read the cues pretty well if he wants to – a skill that is essential for any Vorta to acquire if they want to survive past their first iteration. For all his supposed indifference, Keevan has learned a lot about you pretty early on after you’ve first met, and if you weren’t so love-struck, you’d have probably found it suspicious. At times, it can be irritating how well he knows you, especially when he’s acting smug about it.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Once upon a time, Keevan had a career, and a rather successful one at that. Unfortunately, it was a career in a fascistic interstellar empire serving merciless gods – this kind of thing gets you disillusioned sooner rather than later. Still, his work had its moments, and having left the Dominion he had been missing the opportunity to apply himself.

But the freedom has granted him a choice – for the first time, he could decide what he wants to do. That freedom is just as important to him as your relationship, and the fact that you’re supporting him and helping him discover the new possibilities means more to Keevan than you can possibly imagine.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Keevan is a very tactile person by nature, which may come as a surprise because due to his past he’s had to learn to survive without closeness. At the earlier stages of your relationship he’d be pretty wary of platonic affectionate gestures, but as he becomes more comfortable around you, you’ll notice the casual touches becoming more frequent – he’d put his chin on your shoulder from behind to see what you’re reading on your PADD, thoughtfully trace your brow with his finger or play with your hair. Also, good luck trying to get out of bed without waking him – if you try to wriggle out of his embrace, he’ll only tighten his arms around you and mumble something unintelligible in Vortawa.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

By making everyone around him miserable. By moping around in your quarters and passive-aggressively destroying the knickknacks on your shelves (and later claiming that it was an accident).

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Oh yes. Great, borderline creepy length. Out of the two of you, you are the only one who actually has morals (and the longer you are with Keevan, the more the lines will start to blur), so he won’t have any qualms doing whatever needs to be done for your relationship. The only thing that could give him pause is if he knows you might not forgive him for doing something particularly amoral - but on the other hand, what you don’t know won’t hurt you.

. ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

dedicated to the wonderful @stay-neurotic , the originator of Keevan thirst on tumblr dot com

[amintyworld]

Wilbur's Crows - A Dream SMP Drabble

A/N: Have a little fluff for the soul, featuring Phil's Chat! - Minty

TW: Crying? (Lmk if I need to tag anything else!)

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Sunrise bled through the white curtains, slowly melting away the peaceful starry night into a new day. Creatures stirred out of their slumber, and monsters retreating back to the darkness from whence they came, a few slowly turning to ash and bust. The smell of burning flesh ran potent through the forest, a smell that meant safety to those living within, a smell they were more than used to, blind to. The ground began to warm under the sun's gaze, the cool breeze of night turning to warmth. A warm hug mother nature gave to her children, easing them away from dreamland.

Beside a window, a crib rocked slightly back and forth as a breeze blew through the room. A messy brown-haired tyke held a teddy bear protectively to his chest, sleeping soundly. The light growing brighter behind his eyes, he shifted uncomfortably. Finding no relief, a noise of annoyance rose from his throat as he buried his face into the stuffed animal.

Swiftly, hearing the distress, a few black crows landed on the windowsill overlooking the three-year-old. Some brandished shiny necklaces they wore as a badge of honor. Some were simply bare. A crow to the left of the other two put down a shiny glimmering rock from its beak down by its feet, putting the gift aside for now. Looking to the side, the left crow could see the one on the far right putting down a large chunk of a diamond before the one in the middle met its gaze. Together, all three stared down at the toddler in concern for a moment as the small human squirmed, his chest heaving in breath like he was about to cry.

The two crows looked to the right one with the badge, wondering what they should do. The right one hopped over toward the headboard of the crib, taking in the child. Then, they let out a loud call. "Caw!" The loud noises made the small human's eyes snap open to see a black crow staring down at him, cawing. "Caw! Caw!"

The other two chimed in occasionally, adding to the caw-rus. That was, until the toddler in both annoyance and a little fear clutched his teddy closer and began to cry. The two on the windowsill looked at each other in panic - something was wrong with the small human, it was crying! - and began to caw louder to draw the attention of their owner.

As the door creaked open, all crows silenced, watching their owner as he entered. Watching for any sign of what he wanted them to do. The blonde locks fell a little past his shoulders, with kind blue eyes. He approached the child, reaching his hand down and gently brushing any hair out of his son's face. "Shh, it's okay mate, everything's okay..." When the child's eyes met his father's he silenced, simply looking up at him. Phil smiled as he moved to pick him up, holding the toddler against his hip. Wilbur's grip failed on the teddy during the transition, dropping on the ground as the left-sided crow flew down to try and grab it, flapping its wings wildly to get the surprisingly heavy stuffed animal in the air. Phil let out a warm chuckle as he kneeled down to take it, the crow backing off. After the small child got settled in his arms, he raised a finger to his lips and kissed it, pressing it to his son's nose as he giggled. "There's the Wilbur I know." Phil cooed.

Turning toward the window, his crows looked on silently, wanting to help but unsure as of how. "He's okay, Chat. Wilbur's okay." The caws returned in relief at the statement, breaking the somewhat silence. The crow with the necklace flew over toward Wilbur, trying to land on Phil's shoulder before the tyke waved his arms in protest and annoyance.

"Caw!"

"Caw!" Wilbur mimicked. "Caw!"

Phil chuckled at his son's outburst, trying his best to sound stern. "Now Wil, we don't wanna try to hurt Chat, do we?"

As Wilbur turned to face his father as he talked, the crow in question changed course, landing on top of Wilbur's head with a "caw". Phil tried to hold back his laughter at it all as the door creaked once more, someone else entering the room. Their voice was warm like Phil's but soft, comforting. "So I'm guessing Wilbur's okay?"

"Yeah, just a little grumpy this morning," Phil answered.

"Mumza!" A crow chanted.

She walked further into the room, behind her husband, giving him a small peck on the cheek. "Hm, I wonder where he gets it from..." She teased. Phil turned to face his wife with a smirk, leaning over to give her a proper kiss on the lips. As Wilbur moved closer, he could see a silver glint around her neck.

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

"Uhm, Wilbur..." Ranboo began as he looked up from the crafting table and out the window of their van. "Wilbur they're here again."

Wilbur sighed from his spot on the hammock, arm over his eyes. "You've gotta be joking. I told him to stop sending them!"

"Honestly? I don't think he has any control over them, they just kinda... do what they want." Ranboo shrugged.

Grumbling, frustrated, Wilbur marched out of the door of his burger van and toward the thousands of black crows lining the trees of the surrounding forest. A few brandishing those unmistakable necklaces, he knew exactly whose crows these were. He told Phil multiple times he was fine. He told Phil multiple times he didn't need a babysitter and that he wanted to change. Phil told him multiple times that he trusted him.

Ha, 'Trusted him'. He was sending in his fucking bird surveillance!

If scaring them didn't work, talking to them didn't work...

He pulled out a water bucket from his inventory, the murder of crows staring down at him as he stared up at them. "This is your final fucking warning, go away!"

Spinning he launched the water into the air as it came splashing down on top of the tree. Caws rang out amongst the forest as a few gave up and flew away, but the rest simply flapped their wings and flew a little higher, soaking wet... and mad.

"Oh Shit."

Wilbur's eyes widened as a murder of crows flew toward him as full speed, knocking him over onto the grass. Their talons caught on his skin and clothes, scratching and leaving him sore. Blinded by a sea of feathers and black, Wilbur struggled to his feet, coughing out a few feathers that landed in his mouth before finally getting his bearings, the murder traveling to settling on top of the van. After shaking himself free of feathers, guilt weighed on his heart - they were only following their owner, after all.

"Look, I'm sorry Chat. I... I didn't mean to hurt you, I... uhm..." Wilbur sighed. "I just don't like being watched, okay?" As Wilbur turned to leave, he heard the fluttering of wings and saw the crows surround his feet, one perched on his head and one on each shoulder. He mustered a bit of an awkward smile - it was strange that he was literally talking to birds. His father's birds, but still. "Thanks, Chat."

Walking off deeper into the forest, Wilbur could hear the flapping of wings behind him, and found himself smiling. Maybe it had some weird psychological effect from trying to run them off his property for almost a week straight... but his father's crows were growing on him.

They settled wherever he went as he worked collecting wood and finding some cows to bring back, the flapping always a telltale sign. One always liked settling on top of his head, and after a few hours, Wilbur allowed it. Chat was a silent presence, but not an unwelcome one to Wilbur, who didn't have many friends besides Ranboo to hang around.

As the day came to a close, he walked back toward the van. "I'm guessing I'll see you all tomorrow, then?" He got a few caws in response as the murder took off into the sky and over the horizon, back towards his father's home in the artic. One crow remained - the one perched in his brown curls. "Go on then, you'll see me tomorrow after all." Wilbur gestured toward the others. "And please learn to listen to Phil, okay? You guys could've gotten yourselves lost trying to find me."

The crow landed on Wilbur's outstretched arm, and for the first time, Wilbur could see the crow had something in its beak. A grand silver necklace with a black stone pendant, that shimmer silver in the sunset's glow. Wilbur's eyes narrowed, scanning it. "Is... Is this...?" He looked up toward the crow, who let out a caw and flew away.

Wilbur ran his finger over the pendant that he'd never seen before, and yet he felt like he'd known it his whole life.

Mom.

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General Writing Tagging List (Let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!):

@bones-sprouts

@foolishcaptains

@benzel

[nemycchi]

Delusion

A Childe X Lumine Fanfiction

Rating : Not Rated

Tags : Psychological, Mild Angst, Character Death

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During moments of utter silence, Childe recalls that which Lumine once told him about a book she had read from a far away land. 

"It is of utmost importance that those who seek to fight monsters must not become one in the process." 

He likes to think that perhaps, by mentioning it, she had once hoped that he would be reminded of his main aspiration—to conquer the world that is, and not to simply bathe in the blood of his enemies. 

It has its merits, he admits—for he finds himself fighting alongside her during the turning point of the war, the darkness in him dampened by the white light she emits—cleansing the corruption that has resided in him for the longest time. 

This too though, reminds him of another of her words. 

"The deep dark abyss—stare for too long and it would stare back to those who dare." 

It is true, for he knows that ever since he dropped down that hole in the world, he emerged as a monster that is only tamed by bloodshed. 

And from the moment he knew Lumine, perhaps by her as well. 

He has always carried a portion of that so-called abyss, feeling its vines wrapping inside his very being. He is a monster, that much is true, but tamed as one can be, he became a tool under her commands. 

He does not care, for it is times with her when the whispers of the dark become muted—turned into nothing but echoes of the past. 

"Childe? Breakfast?" 

The man spies her slender form by the doorframe of his bedroom, sees her domestically ushering his sleepy person into the kitchen and he feels as though he had achieved that which he desires, with her by his side. 

To conquer the world. 

They did. They won. And it was all that he could ask for. 

Celestia is no more. The abyss is no more. It is just him, Lumine and the rest of the world. 

He smiles as he sits down at the table, reaching for her hand as she places the bowl of steaming Calla Lily Seafood Soup before him. 

"Oh, my favorite. What's the occasion, girlie?"

"Mhm, nothing in particular. Just wanted to cook something special for you." she smiles back and he thinks he saw the glimmer of stars beyond her eyes. 

Or perhaps it was nothing but an illusion, masking the deeper end of the void he is familiar with—if such end even existed. 

Childe shakes his head for he believes that that is not the case. Lumine is here with him. And the abyss is no more. It is no more. 

And if the calling of that dark bud inside him grows too strong anyhow, he knows she is here to defeat it for him. 

For she is also perhaps a monster in her own rights. 

 

--☆☆☆--

 

The bags under his eyes, and the haunted looks in his face tell everyone that he is far from recovered but everytime someone comes to ask him how he is faring, he will do nothing but face them with a smile before answering. 

"I'm very much fine! Lumine takes good care of me." 

If there were curious glances sent his way, he does not care. They must be seething inside—jealous that it was him who conquered her heart by the end of it all. 

The savior and the reformed harbinger.

What a perfect love story—great as a tale to pass down from generations to generations. He sighs at the thought. 

"Childe, pardon my query but I must ask—how have you truly been?" 

He already lost count of how many times the same question had been asked of him. 

He stops walking—to face the former Geo Archon a few steps behind. 

"I do not understand why everyone keeps on asking the same question. I already told you i'm fine, didn't I?" 

Oh how he hates it when they ask—as if they were doubting his princess' ability to care for him, for it was her who has been on his bed, in his kitchen, in his very house ever since the world achieved true peace. 

They do not understand just how capable Lumine is. 

And they will never know, if he has anything to say. 

"Though we are but friends, I must express my deep concern. The dips on your cheeks beg to differ from that which you uttered." 

The blue in his eyes shift into something malicious, to that belonging to the beast he keeps inside. 

"With all due respect, Mr. Zhongli. I do not appreciate the implications of what you just said. You asked and I answered." He pauses. 

The abyss is no more for Lumine is with him. 

"I shall be going now. My wife is waiting for me at home." 

As he walks away, he ignores the burning gaze on his back. It's fine. That former god does not matter. 

What matters is him and Lumine while the rest of the world could go crash and burn, he thinks. 

 

--☆☆☆--

 

"Tough day at work?" 

Childe sidles up to her side, wrapping an arm around the apron-covered waist of his beloved. He kisses her temple with reverence—for it is what she deserves. 

"Not really. It was just Mr. Zhongli. And others. Being annoyingly repetitive as always." He grumbles, tucking her head under his chin. 

The small hand resting atop his chest tightens against his clothes. 

"Do they... not approve of me?" She asks almost inaudibly. 

He was quick to deny the preposterous thought. 

"Don't listen to them. They do not matter, girlie." 

Childe feels her shift and he looks down at her. 

Golden pools decorated by the glittering of stars—of tears, he realizes, meet his abyssal depths. 

"Are you... are you going to leave me?" 

He brushes the hair out of her forehead and tucks the strays behind her ears before promptly brushing away the tears that cascaded from her eyes. 

"Never. You are mine, Lumine. As much as I am yours." 

Even the sweetest wine cannot compare to the smile that adorns her face after his declaration. She buries her head on his chest once more, arms crossing behind him, bestowing him with nothing else but warmth. 

Childe thinks for a second, that this moment is perhaps the best there is in the world. And he knows he is ruined for anything else.

It is impossible to feel anything akin to this feeling and he strongly believes that the desire to even experience it from others aside his princess does not exist anymore. 

 

--☆☆☆--

 

The sound of deliberate knocking at the door rouses the harbinger from his sleep. Childe growls in annoyance at whoever is behind that piece of wood as he untangles his limbs from the goddess laying beside him. 

He kisses the top of her head before deciding to rise and check who their visitor is. 

He stills when the one in front of his humble abode makes himself known. 

Zhongli, of course. 

"Mr. Zhongli, why the early visit?" 

The man only hums before crossing his arms, pinning him with a serious gaze. 

"May I come in, Childe?"

"Ah, of course." 

He lets him in and ushers the former archon to the couch. Upon sitting, the latter immediately scans his surroundings with vague concern in his eyes. 

"I must say, your house is surprisingly empty and devoid of life, Childe."

"What do you mean? I think it's pretty homey. Lumine designed it by herself when she first got here." 

A frown makes its way to the other man's lips. 

"Childe, can we talk?" 

He stiffens, tone changing into a defensive one. 

"We are talking, are we not?" He spats.

"Why don't you ask Lumine to come down here with us?" 

He summons one of his water blades. 

"Why exactly are you here, Zhongli?"

"Call Lumine, Childe." 

In a flash, the water blade comes in contact with the polearm that materialized in front of the visitor. 

"Why. Are. You. Here?" He asks, hostile in every way as he accents each word with a swing of his blade—all thankfully parried. 

"I need you to understand, Childe." Zhongli calls forth a jade shield that rattled even the sturdy walls of the other man's home. 

A water spear slams against the shield. 

"That Lumine..." 

Yet another side step, perfectly timed to avoid the beast cloaked in water suddenly crackling with electricity. 

"Stop it!" It yells. 

But Zhongli is not known for being gentle. The wrath of the rock and the harsh truth—both must be laid out for him to save the monster disguised as a man. 

"Is no longer with us." 

A beat passes.

"She's gone, Childe. And you must accept that fact."

"No!" 

And like that, the man surges forward with the fury enough to fuel wars. 

The walls crumble and the terrified shrieks of townsfolk in the immediate vicinity sound off but Childe could no longer care. 

Him and Lumine. The rest of the world does not matter. 

His mind goes blank with nothing but white hot anger, and he brandishes his weapon with renewed vigor. 

"Take it back." He quietly demands, voice distorted. 

Instead of complying, multiple stone steles rise up from the pavement, obscuring the two men from prying eyes. 

"Everyone grieves for her departure, I assure you. We are hurt as much as you are." A water blade makes contact with the archon's cheek and he winces as response, "but she chose to sacrifice herself for this world's peace and she will not be happy if she sees you rotting away to your demise, Childe."

"You—you don't know anything! Do not lie! Lumine..." A crack in his composition and Zhongli is quick to take advantage of it. 

All at once, like a puppet with strings cut off, Childe falls forward when Zhongli's polearm strikes down his chest. The accumulated hunger and fatigue from weeks of barely holding on to her memory suddenly come crashing down upon his person. 

Empty plates and sweet nothings. 

Cold bed and pristine kitchen. 

Unused scarf with the color of the skies and the clouds—like the view he's witnessing right now. 

Stare into the abyss, and it stares back at you—its remnants staying within, slowly consuming that which it latches on to. 

The abyss is no more—or so he believes. 

"Lumine... she promised me." he whispers into the wind. 

The rustling of cloth distracts him from his thoughts. 

"Do not lean too close to that edge, Childe. I beg you, not as your friend, but as Lumine's—please, do stay with us." 

Before his eyes closed, he heard the call from the deep dark abyss of the waters. 

The sea is calm. And he couldn't care less about the rest of the world. 

Him and Lumine, he thinks. Him and Lumine.

[inkweaver22-blr]

Here we are with chapter 6! This one chronologically takes place in between chapters 2 and 3, so keep that in mind. There hasn’t been a lot of Sandy in this fic yet so I felt like this was as good a spot as any to focus on him.

AO3 Link

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Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Six: Being There

Tang visits Sandy for some advice.

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Tang knocked on the door to the cabin on Sandy’s boat. He took a step back as he heard a loud thud followed by what sounded like a frantic conversation and more banging.

Soon, the river demon poked his head out from behind the door and glanced down at the scholar.

“Tang! It’s good to see you. What, uh, brings you here,” Sandy greeted with a strained smile.

Tang simply raised an eyebrow at the strange behavior.

“Is this a bad time?”

“Not at all,” Sandy said cheerfully, still not opening the door fully. “What can I do for you?”

“Well…” Tang hesitated, somewhat self conscious at what he was about to admit. “I was wondering if I could get your help with some things I’ve been having trouble with.”

“What kind of things?”

“The... emotional kind,” Tang said softly while rubbing his arm and staring downwards.

“Oh! Oh.” Sandy’s gaze immediately softened for a moment before glancing behind him back into the cabin. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw he opened the door all the way and gestured for Tang to enter. “Why don’t we talk about it over some tea?”

Tang looked around the cabin as he followed Sandy in. It didn’t look like anything was out of place.

Decorations and plants to promote relaxation dotted the space. A yoga mat and exercise equipment were neatly stacked next to the couch. The room was mostly tidy save for the few cat toys strewn about and the two half-drunk cups of tea on the coffee table.

Wait, two cups?

Tang took a closer look around and eventually spotted something.

Huntsman’s braid was poking out from above a high-up cabinet.

Ah. So that’s what the noise earlier was.

The unlikely friendship between the spider demon and Sandy had happened already once before so Tang decided to ignore it for now. He may not like having what he was about to say overheard, but the cycle would be ending soon and he really needed to have this conversation.

The scholar took the offered seat on the couch and thought about why he was here while his host prepared some fresh tea.

It had been a few days since the cursed meatball incident. If the timeline of events stayed the same in this cycle, that meant there was only about three days left before MK unlocked the use of the 72 Transformations, they went to the desert to train, and then would get attacked by Lady Bone Demon.

Tang shuddered involuntarily as he thought about the dangerous demon, and subsequently, her primary servant. He subconsciously rubbed his throat as the Mayor’s visage flashed in his mind.

Quickly shaking his head and taking a deep breath, Tang banished those images. He knew better than to meddle with major events now, and his friends had helped him through his trauma multiple times already.

He needed to focus on the actual reason for this visit.

“So what did you want to discuss,” Sandy asked while setting down a tea tray. The blue giant took one of the cups for himself and sat cross-legged on the floor across from Tang, his height allowing them to remain eye level to each other.

Tang took a fortifying sip of his own tea as he thought about how to begin.

“I know I can be a bit… full of myself sometimes,” Tang started. Sandy made no comment and simply waited for the scholar to continue. “But I really am not bragging when I say that I’m very good at noticing things.”

There was a small creaking noise from the cabinet hiding the spider demon. Both Tang and Sandy chose to ignore it.

“I’m just a naturally perceptive person I guess. I tend to notice patterns pretty quickly and I almost immediately pick up a change to a place I visit frequently.” Tang took another sip of his tea before staring seriously at Sandy.

“So I must apologize to you, Sandy, for taking so long to notice that you are quite possibly more perceptive than even I am.”

The river demon’s eyebrows rose in surprise at that.

“Uh, thanks? What do you mean by that?”

“Sure, I can pick out even the small details of the world around me,” Tang explained, waving his hand dismissively. “However, you notice something much more important than that. You can see how the people around you are feeling.

“Yes, I can tell when someone is acting strange or hiding something,” the scholar continued, not acknowledging the shocked look on Sandy’s face, “but you seem to be able to see so much deeper than that! You can tell why that person is upset. Or at least you’re able to make a very good guess.

“Even more impressive than that is how you always seem to know exactly how to react to that person’s distress.

“You know the right words to say that offer the most amount of reassurance. You know exactly when to push for details and when to back off. You never judge, only offering unconditional support.

“You're endlessly patient and kind and understanding and I’m-” Tang took a ragged breath as his emotions welled up inside of him. “-and I’m not.”

“Tang, you’re-”

“Please let me finish.” Tang took a few deep breaths as Sandy looked on in concern, not the slightest bit offended at being interrupted.

“I know I can be kind and supportive, I’m not saying that isn’t true. But I also know I’m somewhat egotistical and smug at times. And that causes me to miss things in others.” Tang began to shake as he was finally overwhelmed and tears began to fall.

“I-I don’t want to miss how the people I care about are hurting ever again. I just want to be there for him, like you’re there for all of us.” Tang looked pleadingly at Sandy. “But I’m not sure I know how.”

“Oh, Tang.” Sandy swiftly moved around the table and gently pulled the scholar into a hug. Tang eagerly leaned into the embrace as he continued to let his insecurities out.

“He- he’s been hurting for a while and I don’t know for how long because I didn’t notice and-” He gasped for breath as he cried into the river demon’s shoulder. “He tries to be strong and not let it show but that’s hurting him even more and I don’t know how to fix it and-!”

“Shhh, just breathe for me right now Tang,” Sandy soothed as he rubbed the scholar’s back. “It’ll be okay. You don’t have to do this alone. We can all help MK out together.”

Tang sobbed a bit harder because of course Sandy would know who he was talking about through his incoherent ramblings. Of course he’d know exactly what to say to get to the heart of the issue and address it. He’d be jealous and impressed if he wasn't currently bawling his eyes out.

After Tang eventually calmed down and had a few more cups of tea, he still expressed his desire to learn how to be more like the river demon. Sandy had simply agreed to his request and lent him some self-help psychology and therapy books he owned. They discussed going over the contents in more detail at later dates and ways to help MK as a group before Tang decided to take his leave.

“Remember that you aren’t alone in this,” Sandy gently reminded the scholar as he led him to the door. “You aren’t solely responsible for the mental well being of others and it’s okay to ask for help.”

“Thanks Sandy,” Tang said with a sincere smile. “I really appreciate the help.”

“That’s what I’m here for. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later.”

Tang, feeling much lighter than before, decided to play a bit of a prank. He smirked as he leaned around the river giant before calling back into the cabin.

“Bye Huntsman!”

There was a sudden bang followed by profuse amounts of swearing. Sandy broke out into loud guffaws as he waved goodbye to the retreating scholar.

In the end, Tang hadn’t been able to get through the books Sandy had lent him before the cycle reset. He made sure to visit Sandy earlier on in the next one and learned a lot from the gentle giant.

Sandy wasn’t the only one he took cues from.

He incorporated Pigsy's silent acts of compassion and Mei’s no-nonsense attitude into the way he helped the others. Even MK’s fierce openness made it into his techniques.

Tang also never forgot he wasn’t alone. He always asked for help when he felt overwhelmed. He made sure the others knew how to help out whenever one of them was hurting.

Tang was powerless to stop anything that would cause any of the hurt feelings in his friends, but he’d be damned if he simply stood by and did nothing to address them now that he knew what to look for.

He promised to always be there for them.

----------

Sandy, I feel, is the secret MVP of the Monkie Kid group. He may not be a licensed therapist, but he’s probably had enough experience with his own and read enough about it to pass a certification test with no problem.

Huh. With this I’ve now ended exactly half of the current chapters with Tang having some sort of emotional breakdown. I’m sure that ratio will only get bigger as we progress. :3c

The Sandy and Huntsman friendship/ship is one I enjoy a lot and it’s a shame there isn’t more content for it.

I'm playing a bit fast and loose with the timeline of events in canon, but meh. It's not that big a deal I think.

That’s it for now! Until next time!

[tlbodine]

Literary vs Genre Fiction

The divide between literary and genre fiction is one of those topics that gets endlessly debated in writer circles. You’ll see it making the rounds on social media every time a book gets some buzz for busting out of its category. You’ll hear it in MFA programs across the country. But what even is literary fiction? How is it actually different from genre fiction? Is one better than the other? Why does anybody care?

A lot of smart people before me have thrown their hat in this particular ring, but I’m going to try tackling this one anyway. 

First Off: What Do We Mean When We Say “Literary Fiction”? 

Defining the thing is almost the hardest part of this whole discussion, and that may be part of the reason why people argue so endlessly about the literary vs genre divide -- if you don’t have a clear definition of the categories, that divide can be drawn up just about anywhere. 

So before we dig into characteristics of literary fiction, let’s look at some clear examples. The Booker Prize is a literary award specifically given to works of literary fiction, so it stands to reason that winners of that award would be the best examples of the category, right? Here are some recent Booker Prize winners (as pulled from Powell’s bookstore): 

Margaret Atwood - The Testaments The sequel to A Handmaid's Tale, told as testaments from three female narrators in Gilead, a dystopian setting where women have been stripped of their rights.

Bernardine Evaristo - Girl, Woman, Other Twelve central characters, mostly black British women, lead intersecting lives with struggles of identity, race, sexuality, class, etc.

Anna Burns - Milkman A girl identified as "middle sister" catches the unwanted attention of "the milkman," a local paramilitary, and has to deal with the threat of violence and spread of rumors.

George Saunders - Lincoln in the Bardo A father-and-son story about Abraham Lincoln and the 11-year-old son who died of illness in the midst of the civil war, leading to them both struggling in a type of purgatory.

Paul Beatty - The Sellout A satire about an isolated young man who ends up at a Supreme Court race trial after trying to reinstate slavery and segregate the local high school in an attempt to put his town back on the map.

One thing becomes immediately clear about literary fiction when skimming through the titles and summaries of these award-winning books: These novels are well-nigh impossible to summarize in a way that actually sounds enticing. 

So okay. What are some genre fiction books, for comparison? There are genre fiction awards, like for example the Hugo award for Sci-Fi/Fantasy: 

Mary Robinette Kowal - The Calculating Stars A cataclysmic meteor collision in 1952 causes an accelerated effort to colonize space, leading to a woman fighting to join the astronaut team in this alternate-history book.

N. K. Jemisin - The Stone Sky The third in a trilogy of post-apocalyptic novels about two women with the power to avert destruction of mankind.

Cixin Liu - The Three-Body Problem Against the backdrop of China's Cultural Revolution, a secret military project makes contact with aliens whose civilization is on the brink of destruction, leading them to plan a takeover of earth.

There’s also the Edgar Award, which is given to mystery fiction (it’s named after Edgar Allan Poe): 

James A McLaughlin - Bearskin A man on the run takes a job as a park ranger, but runs the risk of being found by the men he's hiding from when he tries to expose some poachers.

Walter Mosley - Down the River Unto the Sea After spending a decade in prison for a crime he was framed for, former-detective King works as a private investigator whose investigation of his own frame-up leads him to cross paths of a journalist with a similar story.

Sujata Massey - Widows of Malabar Hill In 1920s India, Bombay's only female lawyer investigates a suspicious will on behalf of three Muslim widows, a case that takes a murderous turn.

These aren’t the best summaries in the world, but there does seem to be a stronger sense of both plot and character in the story concepts. At least, when someone asks, “What’s that book you’re reading about?” the genre fiction ones will have a somewhat easier time explaining it. 

So What REALLY Separates Literary From Genre Fiction? 

There are a lot of battle lines drawn between genre and literary fiction. I’ve heard it argued that literary is about character while genre is about plot; that literary is about the quality of the prose while genre is about the story; that literary is about experimenting while genre is about adhering to formulas. That literary is about expanding horizons while genre is about escapism and comfort. That literary is about realism and genre fiction is about fabulism. 

I think there’s a nugget of truth in all of these, but I’m not really happy with any of them. 

So I’m going to toss out my own hypothesis: I think the difference between literary and genre fiction is the way tropes are employed. 

“Okay, great, but what are tropes?” 

I’m so glad you asked. Fiction tropes are a type of shorthand. They are things that we the audience have seen before, so we know immediately what they mean. Tropes exist in characters, plot points, settings, concepts -- you name it. Here’s a sampling of tropes you might be familiar with: 

The tough lady-cop whose dad was a police officer 

Thanks to a mix-up, two people with hidden romantic feelings book the last available room at a hotel but there’s only one bed 

A man goes on a quest for vengeance but destroys himself in the process

The wise old man who teaches the young hero valuable lessons but then dies before the pivotal battle

And so on, and so forth. Every genre has its own tropes -- a formula, if you will. In that sense, genre fiction is formulaic, but that doesn’t make it easier to write; actually, a big part of the challenge is in giving fresh twists to familiar tropes. Readers of genre stories demand certain tropes; the author has to deliver on those demands in a fresh way.

By comparison, I would argue that literary fiction does not rely upon tropes. There certainly are tropes and conventions that emerge in literary fiction -- a middle-aged academic struggling through divorce, for example -- but these tropes are more often than not met with irritation, not delight. Readers of literary fiction are looking for fresh insights and innovations, not familiarity. 

Tropes are powerful tools. They are the mythic seed of storytelling. They are the archetypes that pass down through generations. They are a sacred backbone of mythology and folklore. Genre fiction, at the end of the day, carries the torch for storytelling in a long and (ha, ha) storied tradition from our prehistoric days huddled around a campfire. 

Literary fiction, on the other hand, eschews tropes -- with their agreed-upon meanings -- in favor of assigning fresh meanings to things. Literary fiction is chock full of metaphors, but it’s the author, not convention, that determines what those metaphors mean and how they’re employed. Literary fiction reinvents the wheel. When it succeeds, it hits on depth and emotional resonance that can be life-changing for the reader. When it fails, it comes off like so much navel-gazing nonsense. So it goes. 

Fiction Wars and Gatekeeping

The problem with the literary vs genre fiction divide is that it never stops with “This is how these categories are defined.” The problem is that people will insist on ascribing moral significance and hierarchy to them. 

Literary fiction is viewed as being smarter, deeper, more meaningful or more valuable than genre fiction. If a genre fiction story manages to break out and gain wider appeal, suddenly people will start ascribing to it literary attributes (whether or not the book and many others in the genre had them all along). And that is all a bunch of nonsense. 

It’s the exact same thing that happens in horror fiction -- when a horror story goes mainstream, suddenly it becomes a “psychological thriller” or a “dark drama” or anything other than horror, because “horror” is an inferior genre. 

The fact of the matter is that literary fiction gets elevated over genre fiction for systemic reasons: 

Most MFA programs focus on writing literary fiction, which means that a lot of lit-fic authors come out of those programs, which means that literary fiction is often the domain of upper-middle-class, frequently white, people who can afford to graduate from those programs

A focus on dense prose and “difficult” writing means lit-fic books must be analyzed and interpreted; it’s hard to read, making it exclusionist to people who lack formal education 

Lit-fic dominates awards, gets pushed heavily onto book clubs, is talked about more often on daytime TV and so forth (because it is perceived as being better/more important, thus creating the ongoing cycle)

Basically, lit-fic gets held up as an example of Fine Culture. And any time something is designated as Fine Culture and High Art, it is subject to a completely arbitrary classist distinction meant primarily to keep out an undesirable element (women, BIPOC, poor people, you name it). 

That’s not a problem endemic to lit-fic itself. It’s really a problem of the culture surrounding it, and attempts to hold it to a higher esteem than genre work. 

Cross-Pollination Is Inevitable and Desirable 

How do tropes get made? 

Someone comes up with a new metaphor, concept, character, or idea that resonates so deeply that others who follow borrow that same thing and its meaning, and it gets repeated enough times that it becomes a stock trope. 

In other words, every single piece of genre fiction exists because someone writing in some other established tradition decided to experiment and go off on a tangent to create something really fresh and new -- and knocked it so far out of the park that people were compelled to follow. 

People like to pretend that the overlap and blurred lines between genre and literary fiction are somehow a new trend, but the fact is that this has been the trajectory of fiction-writing for the whole history of storytelling. 

Literary agents have a term for this: Upmarket fiction. Books that “transcend” genre definitions to appeal to readers on either side of the aisle. And those are highly sought-after books, because they have the potential of bringing in double the readers. 

So, snobby gatekeeping aside, is there any real reason to argue about the definition of literary vs genre fiction? 

I’d say...no. Not even a little bit. I’ve got a mix of both on my shelves. I incorporate a mix of both in my writing. And I don’t see that changing any time soon. 

A Final Note 

I mentioned above that lit-fic tends to be written by people in MFA programs, and I wanted to touch on that again as an MFA drop-out and someone who was once warned by a teacher not to bring “any more of that genre nonsense” into the classroom. 

I can understand, from a teaching perspective, why writer’s workshops would want to focus on lit-fic. From the perspective of learning how to write, forcing writers to derive stories from their experiences, to dig deep into themselves and ascribe unique meaning to things, to develop their own metaphors and hone their craft at the sentence level -- all of that makes a lot of sense. Banning genre tropes is a way to force writers to hone their craft without leaning on the work of generations of storytellers before them, and as a teaching tool I think that’s actually really valuable. 

But I think it’s pretty important that we keep that in context. The lit-fic focus in writing classes should be a teaching tool first and foremost. It should not be the end-all and be-all of writing classes.

This post topic was voted on by my Patreon subscribers. If you would like to vote for future posts and get early access to posts before they go live on tumblr, you can become a patron here: https://www.patreon.com/tlbodine

[thezodiacqueen11]

Chapter 1: Ariana

“I had the dream again, well the nightmare. Possibly the most traumatizing nightmare I’ve had in my 31 years of living. Aren’t I too old to be having nightmares about burning to death?” Ariana paused waiting for a response from her therapist. “I guess not.”

“I’m standing in the middle of this temple like building, surrounded by stones, or statues but I can’t make out what they are. They aren’t important anyways. The most important thing is that I’m on fire. On fire! But nothing else is on fire.”

Ariana paused to take a look at her therapist whom she had been seeing for a little over a year, Dr. Archibald. He was a bald, elderly, white man with this permanent smug look on his face. His gray mustache drooped over his small, pink lips, and he had sun damage spots all over his head. She couldn’t stand him but her sessions were court appointed since she was discharged from the military for excessive violence. He wasn’t the first therapist she had, but he had lasted longer than the others.

“What did it feel like?” Dr. Archibald asked.

Ariana rolled her eyes. Standard therapy question. She hated those.

“I felt powerful, which is weird and slightly uncomfortable. I’m on fire and I don’t feel like I’m burning. I feel like I’m alive.” Ariana paused, the hair on her arms raised in response to the adrenaline rushing through her veins.

“Do I sound psychotic or what doc?” She asked, with a nervous chuckle.

“You don’t sound psychotic Ariana. I do want to touch on the fire though. Do you feel like this reoccurring dream is a part of the reason you chose to become a firefighter after your discharge from the military?”

She knew he already knew the answer to this question, and she also knew that he was bringing it up to challenge her, and trigger her. The last conversation they had about it, ended in her sobbing uncontrollably and telling him she would never be back to see him again. But of course that was all for naught, her therapy was, again, court appointed. “I’ve always wanted to be a firefighter doc, ever since I was a little girl. But you already know this, so why don’t we skip the fiddle faddle and you actually tell me what you want me to say.” Ariana relaxed deeper in to the uncomfortable Ikea sofa.

“I don’t want you to say anything you don’t think you need to say. You are here to find what triggers your anger. What causes you to react as explosively as you do? Why do you go head first in to “the fire” without a second thought for your own safety? These are the questions we are here to discover. You’ve been coming here for a year and every time we get back to this subject you shut down or redirect.”

Ariana closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The birth mark above her spine started to tingle. Her palms started to burn, almost unbearably. This conversation was triggering her. She could feel the sweat dripping down her neck, and the perspiration on her forehead. I have to get out of here, she thought.

“Come back to me Ari. You can’t keep running away from what scares you. You have to face these points in your life that are triggering you. Causing you to be reactive.”

Ariana sighed deeply.“Look doc, I think our time is up. And I’m not running away, I can’t do this right now.” She grabbed her backpack and ran out of the door before he could protest.

Ariana wasn’t able to catch her breath until she reached the parking lot. She buckled over, and threw up behind a random black sedan. She pulled her insulated water bottle out of her backpack and finished off the still ice-cold water.

Ari knew something was happening to her, she didn’t know what. It had been happening since she was a teenager. The dreams about her being on fire, her birth mark tingling, and her palms feeling hot. Dr. Archibald was not going to be able to help her out. He’d probably diagnose her with some outlandish psychological disorder, and she’d end up on medication, or worse committed. No, she couldn’t let that happen. She needed to control whatever this was long enough to finish therapy. She also needed to figure out what “this” was.

After taking some time to catch her breath, Ariana gathered herself and walked to her car. She pulled her cell phone out and dialed a number.

The phone rang twice before a voice answered “I knew you’d be calling me. I have an opening tonight at 11pm. You know where to come.” The line went dead.

At 10:55pm Ariana pulled in front of a white house, with green shutters that appeared to be dark. She got out, closed the door, locked her car and walked up the driveway. Any sane person would be afraid to be out this late without the lights on. Ariana knew better though, and she knew this area too well to be afraid. She kept walking up the driveway and continued to the back of the house where a small guest house sat.

She followed a lit stone path until she reached the door of the guest house and knocked lightly.

“Come in Ari.” A West Indian accent called out.

Ariana opened the door to the pleasant smell of incense and candles. The room was dimly lit, but she didn’t need light to know that everything still looked the same.

“Don’t be shy now. I know it’s been awhile since you’ve been here but don’t act brand-new.”

She took a deep breath and closed the door.

Nana Abdulah had been her psychic reader since she was in college. Nana knew everything about her, even the parts she had yet to discover about herself. Ari didn’t know how she did it, but she knew Nana was a powerful force. This was the first time she’d seen her in 3 years. Now something inside was telling her, she should’ve stayed away.

“Hi Nana.” Ari sat down in the chair across from her long time friend and confidant. A round table between them.

“I knew you’d be back Ari. I told you, didn’t I?” Nana smiled a big, crooked, smile.

“Yes you did. And since you knew I’d be back then you know why I’m here.” Ariana thought it best to get down to business. Her anxiety was already through the roof. But she knew better, Nana was in control now.

“Don’t rush this child. You’re always in a rush. Time works differently here so relax.” Nana closed her eyes and began to shuffle her oracle cards.

Ari sighed deeply. Her eyes darted around the room, landing on her favorite parts about this familiar place. The book case in the far left corner filled with books about African Spirituality, the Orishas, and astrology. Ari always found something new to read each time she came. Nana would lend her a book, and she’d have to finish it before her next appointment. She always did.

Waiting for Nana to finish her ritual, she couldn’t help but think about the last time she was here. She had attacked her commanding officer, and was dishonorably discharged. Ari couldn’t understand why her life was falling apart. Why had she reacted so irrationally to someone she was supposed to respect? She lost everything. Or at least that’s what it felt like at the time. She was stripped of her title and military benefits. She’d never felt so low in her life. There was something about self reflection that Ari didn’t like, didn’t stop her from doing it though.

Nana was waiting for her when she showed up unannounced after her career ending outburst. Full of anger, shaking and crying as if she had lost someone. She felt like she did, like she lost herself. Nana held her until she calmed down and then sat her down at the Reading Table. The cards had already been placed.

“Tell me child. Are you here to stop running away from your destiny?” Nana’s voice snapped Ari out of her memory.

“I have to know what’s happening to me.”

“But are you ready?” Nana eyed her intently.

Ari thought before she answered. “I am ready.”

Nana began to hum as she placed the oracle cards down on the table.

“Ari, what I am going to tell you, you will not understand right away. But you must listen and take heed to my words.” She paused. Ari could feel her body heating up again. Nana was making her nervous. More nervous than usual and that was a cause for concern.

“Power is with in you, child. A power that has been growing inside of you since you came in to this world. I know you know what I mean. The dream you’ve been having since you were a teenager. The one where you’re on fire. That is more than a dream, that is a prophecy. You are to inhabit the power of the flame. You are the "I AM", you are the leader of the Fire Quadrant of the Star Seeds and you will lead them to awaken The Zodiac Queen.”

[yacheika213]

The relation between helplessness and choice

If we have choices in a particular situation, then we should be able to exert control over that situation, and thus we should be protected from helplessness. Only in situations where there is no choice should vulnerability to helplessness appear. Quite apart from the instrumental benefits of choice that it enables people to get what they want—and the expressive benefits of choice—that it enables people to say who they are—choice enables people to be actively and effectively engaged in the world, with profound psychological benefits.

At first glance, this may suggest that opportunities for choice should be expanded wherever possible. And because modern American society has done so, feelings of helplessness should now be rare. In 1966, and again in 1986, however, pollster Louis Harris asked respondents whether they agreed with a series of statements like “I feel left out of things going on around me” and “What I think doesn’t matter anymore.” In 1966, only 9 percent of people felt left out of things going on around them; in 1986, it was 37 percent. In 1966, 36 percent agreed that what they thought didn’t matter; in 1986, 60 percent agreed.

There are two possible explanations for this apparent paradox. 

From: “The Paradox of Choice. Why More is Less” by B. Schwartz (2004)

The first is that, as the experience of choice and control gets broader and deeper, expectations about choice and control may rise to match that experience. As one barrier to autonomy after another gets knocked down, those that remain are, perhaps, more disturbing. Like the mechanical rabbit at the dog-racing track that speeds along just ahead of the dogs no matter how fast they run, aspirations and expectations about control speed ahead of their realization, no matter how liberating the realization becomes.

The second explanation is simply that more choice may not always mean more control. Perhaps there comes a point at which opportunities become so numerous that we feel overwhelmed. Instead of feeling in control, we feel unable to cope. Having the opportunity to choose is no blessing if we feel we do not have the wherewithal to choose wisely. Remember the survey that asked people whether they would want to choose their mode of treatment if they got cancer? The majority of respondents to that question said yes. But when the same question was asked of people who actually had cancer, the overwhelming majority said no. What looks attractive in prospect doesn’t always look so good in practice. In making a choice that could mean the difference between life and death, figuring out which choice to make becomes a grave burden.

[alicemitch09writes]

i have been meaning to say this for awhile but never really got the chance to but ive seen a couple of anon asks here that says you were ~dragging~ the angst for way too long and that it’s been getting annoying how reader seems like she’s not getting past her insecurities especially towards her sister

so let me just say this; regarding the angst, to be honest with you it wasn’t dragged on at all. in fact, i think a year is too fast for them to move forward. granted, the catalyst was the realisation that atsumu is losing reader. for real this time. he’s realising that he cannot subconsciously keep on keeping an eye on her or still have her by his side along his brother.

onto the reader, i don’t know what you guys are reading but all throughout the series which has literally more than 200 pages (ebook style) i can be sure that it’s less than a page wherein reader’s insecurity for mika has been really outwardly mentioned. as for her insecurities in general, that much is a given. no, it doesn’t matter if she’s a teenager who is trying her best not to have her emotions rule her.

this ones deeper than that. y’all gotta realise that everyone around reader (sans her family) has always made her feel invisible and lesser than. it doesn’t matter where they are or who they’re with. she’s always labelled as someone who’s just never enough compared to both her sister and her younger brother even. ever since they were kids. does anyone realise how damaging that is to anyone’s psyche? or is it just me??? it was always drilled into her mind that what she’s good at is studying, lol. and she doesn’t even believe that that’s like... a super strength to her character. she just thought that she just happened to be good at it, nothing special. now, the incident happened and she heard from her very first love. that she’s got nothing going on for her except her brain. LITERALLY in front of her. mind you, this is the same person who’s always made her feel seen and had always made her feel like she belongs. then realising that he, too, thought that she’s really just plain and boring? well, isn’t that something? plus, her trust being broken way too many times. even by people who she gave everything to.

all of these factors, plus others combined. i’d say you handled this very realistically. in fact, there were many instances where reader feels as though she’s enough and what she’s doing is enough but of course, in the journey of loving and accepting yourself, there’s always going to be setbacks. people making you feel small and boring ever since you were a kid, reader will always have that nagging feeling of insecurity in the back of her mind.

even when atsumu started treating her like theyre buddy buddy without ever apologising and her thinking that ‘this is enough’ she still had her reservations and doubts. as she should! what would y’all feel if someone who’s took every opportunity to hurt you again and again. to humiliate you. to trample over your feelings as if they’re nothing. started to act as if that rift between the two of you never happened? and her knowing that no matter what happens from this point onwards, atsumu and her will never go back to the way they once were? whewwww

it makes reader human. the way she acts and the way she’s processing things right now, makes her all the more human. she might be strong and she might present herself to be that type to never be knocked down by anything but she’s got her limits too. she’s got her bad days too. and sometimes, no matter how much you convince yourself that you’re getting better, that nagging feeling of dark thoughts will still linger in the back of your mind. that’s how it goes. because loving and accepting yourself is not just all about forgetting everything that knocks you down, it’s also getting up whenever those bad thoughts and days seem to be getting better of you. and that’s what reader has been doing all this time.

she deserves all those little factors that made her the way she is all throughout this series. because it couldn’t be more realistic to have all the what-ifs, what couldve been, what could be, etc be placed and scattered throughout her healing(???) process.

im p sure i missed a lot of points to say but id say this is still a pretty good and convincing thought LMAOO - 🎨

to be honest, i was also pissed, but had to step back. as mentioned before, this story has a bit of me - because they were my experiences growing up, getting so used to either being invisible, the second fiddle, or as the inferior sibling. it's numb me to the point that i've become so pessimistic and cynical.

nonetheless, i have to respect that everyone is each to their own opinion. yet at the same time, it's not fair to disregard the fact that there are people like reader who have a high threshold for pain, saint-like presence, or are just plain masochists.

as for the angst, this is exactly the kind of angst i really like reading - where you really see glimpse of what a certain pain can do to someone, emotionally and psychologically. yes, i do love the 'they don't love me back' trope, but on a deeper level? that's just *chef's kiss* nothing hurts more if you actually get to feel what they're feeling, which is why i chose to write my angst that way :>

[holographic-chogi]

Protector pt.16/?

Author: holographic-chogi

Pairing: fem!reader x skz

Warnings: heavy swearing, psychological abuse, implications of insanity

A/N: So definitely take the warnings seriously on this one, as it’s a little heavier than the rest, and potentially triggering. Also, Hyoseob and Hyuk are Crush and Dean respectively, and while this is fanfiction so it might already be obvious, but I still feel the need to clarify that this is strictly a work of fiction, and I do not view ANY of these idols as villainous or abusive. However, they make excellent villain material with those stage presences and killer looks lmao. Anyway, as always, I hope you lovelies enjoy, and any feedback would be greatly appreciated! 

Summary: a virus has wiped out most of humanity, and society has collapsed. People survive in groups where they live in constant fear and a struggle to survive. Women were the primary victim of the virus, leaving few behind. You are one of the few, kept in secret since the beginning. However, you’ve just been caught.

Masterlist

Your fingers were white from gripping the silverware, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. The tantalizing smell of breakfast tickled your noise, but you didn’t dare take a bite. The seat in front of you remained vacant, but you weren’t alone. The man who had been stationed inside the room was still waiting alongside the table, but unlike the others, he didn’t stare. You appreciated it.

This man had soft features, almost the exact opposite of the man that had woken you up. He had a completely different demeanor too, occasionally glancing over, almost as if to check on you. You needed an ally here; perhaps he was an option.

You spoke quietly, not daring to alert Jiho, who was supposedly still upstairs. “Good morning.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you, but his expression remained soft. “Good morning. Y/N, right?”

You nodded, voice still quiet, “Nice to meet you…” you trailed off, hoping he’d fill in the blank.

“Hyoseob.” He paused, seemingly debating his next question, “what’s with the whispering?”

Should you be honest? Your instinct was that you could, at least with this guy or Hyoseob, apparently. You looked down at the plate, feeling hesitant in your response. “I don’t want Jiho to hear me.”

He doesn’t answer at first, and you begin to feel anxious. Was honesty the wrong route? Of course it was, he works for Jiho. Why would he sympathize? You froze. What would stop him from telling the boss?

He broke you out of your daze, finally responding. “Are you scared of him?”

You look back up at him quickly, barely able to contain the frantic look in your eyes. “No, of course not. I just don’t want to disturb him.” You search his face for any indication of what he was thinking, but it appeared he was doing the same to you, suspiciously scanning your expression. You continue speaking, hopefully not digging yourself any deeper. “Of course I’m not scared of him. Why would I be scared of him?”

He shrugged, seemingly ending his investigation. “Nevermind. Clearly I was mistaken.”

His expression reminded you of Minho’s, back then, whenever caught you in a lie. It gave you a bad feeling.

Speaking of bad feelings, you heard the beginning of footsteps as Jiho descended the stairs. He was beaming, barely acknowledging Hyoseob as he sat across from you. He spoke confidently, “How’d you sleep, Y/N?”

You smile at him forcefully, “Great. Thank you.”

He nods, “Good. I know it isn’t like the cell block, but I’m working on making your space nicer.” funny, how he assumed you wanted your space to be anything like the cellblock. Did he think you wanted that? He began busying himself with his meal, sawing into his cut of whatever meat it was the two of you had been served.

You didn’t know what to talk to him about, so you decided to start there. “Did one of your hunters catch this?”

He looked up at you, smiling. “They did. Our hunters, Hyoseob here and Hyuk, whom I believe you met this morning, are responsible for game hunting.” He looked down at your plate, which had yet to be touched. His eyes darkened; his smile fading. “Eat. Before it gets cold.” You could tell that was a command, not a request.

He watches you as you scramble for your fork, shoveling in a bite of meat big enough to excuse you from speaking. Venison, it made sense based on location.

Once you took your bite, he returned to eating. “We need to work on your table manners. You’ve clearly been rooming with those boys too long. Did they not enforce etiquette while you were there?” He shook his head in disapproval, “You’re a young lady for god sakes.”

You felt your cheeks heat up in shame, and you made sure to finish chewing and swallowing before responding. “I’m sorry, I’ll work on it.”

He continues, not bothering to look up from his plate. “There’s a lot we need to work on. Those boys were a bad influence.” he takes another bite, clearly enjoying his food. “If you want things to go well this time, you need to be well behaved.”

You still, fork frozen over your plate. What did that mean? He’s in charge, was he threatening you? The redness on your cheeks began to deepen, but this time from anger. Your voice was accusatory, “What does that mean, Jiho?”

That earned his attention. He finally looked up from his plate, his eyes were narrow, dangerous. “Watch your tone.”

This was new. While you knew you should be careful, your anger got the best of you. “Maybe I should have stayed with them.”

You expected rage, an outburst maybe, but he remained eerily quiet, just watching you without a word. A small smile crept onto his face, “You were poison to them, you know that, right?”

You gulped. What the fuck did that mean? You felt the beginnings of tears pricking at the edges of your eyes.

He continued, “Did you have your fun? Playing with their feelings?” his smile grew, his eyes beginning to look crazed. “Did you like the attention, Y/N?”

You slammed your silverware down onto the table and sprung from your chair, knocking it to the ground in the process. But as soon as you made your way to the door, Hyoseob stepped in your way, showing no sign of emotion. Perhaps you actually had misjudged him.

Jiho’s voice grew closer from behind you, but you were too scared to turn around. “Where would you even go from here? Hm? Do you remember the way back to the farm?”

Fuck. You didn’t, because you slept on the way through the forest. You don’t know the way out. Then the realization hits you. You remember him walking you in circles, he must’ve purposely been confusing and tiring you out. He made sure you were asleep when he took you to camp so you wouldn’t know the way out of the forest.

He trapped you well.

You turn to face him, mustering as much courage as you could. “Take me back to the farm. I don’t want to be here anymore.” your voice was wavering. You were slipping.

He was barely listening, his eyes still crazed as he reached out to run a finger along your cheek, causing you to shudder. “Now, is that how you talk to your friend?”

Your tears began to build, spilling over onto your cheek. Your courage was fading, and your voice came out in a whimper, “Please...Jiho. You’re scaring me.”

He smiled, stepping back. “There. I like it better when you talk to me without the attitude.” He looked you up and down, did he even hear you? “We’re gonna need to keep an eye on you until you drop these... habits you’ve picked up.” He shakes his head in disdain. “You’re never going back there. Such a bad influence.”

You clenched your fists as he turned away from you, and you dropped your head. You felt defeated. You were defeated.

“Take her back to her room.” He turned away, his expression calm again as he collected his plate, “She needs to spend some time to herself to reflect on her actions.” His eyes flitted up to you, “Next time I see you, I want an apology. Prepare one.”

---

You curled into yourself as tightly as you could, tears streaming down your thighs as you lay on your cot in the fetal position. You were weak, vulnerable. You could feel all the self worth and inner strength you had gained from the farm seeping out of you. Changbin was right, he did make you small.

You wondered how the boys were doing. Have they moved on? You chuckled darkly, because you knew the answer. Of course they have, how dare you flatter yourself like that, assuming they’d care about a mess like you. A sobbing, crumpled mess that can’t even behave herself at the dinner table.

Your sobs grew stronger as you realized Jiho may have been right. You were poison. You remember the fight between Jisung and Hyunjin, and the one between Hyunjin and Changbin. You remember the way Changbin looked the day you left, his eyes tired and hair disheveled. The scars on Hyunjin’s beautiful hands. The pure pain in Jisung’s eyes the night you held him in your room.

All of that was caused by you. You were poison.

A small knock sounded at the door, and you snapped to attention. Your body would have to learn to react in the same way it did at the cellblock. Fast. Quiet. 

Your voice was hoarse, and you winced at the thought that whoever it was could hear you. “Y-yes?”

“Can I come in?” It was Hyoseob. You wouldn’t dare deny anyone again.

“Of c-course” You sat up, but stayed curled up, not daring to challenge anyone else today.

He opened the door and walked in, not showing much hesitation as he stood across from the bed, leaning against the wall. He took in the sight of you and winced, “You look like hell.”

You nodded, “Sorry, I’ll get cleaned up.” As you go to move, he quickly stops you, moving around the bed to gently grab your arm, halting you. He kneeled down, making intense eye contact. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

---

You looked up at him, hopeful at first, but quickly looked back down. This was obviously a trap. Jiho must’ve sent him in to see what lengths you’d go to to escape. Little did he know, you were losing motivation by the second.

You deserved this.

You shook your head, unable to prevent a few stray teardrops from falling to your lap. “No, Hyoseob. This is where I belong, with Jiho.”

He groaned in exasperation, sitting back against the wall again. “This won’t work unless you cooperate. I think we both know you don’t belong here.”

It scares you, but you feel a blossom of hope in your chest. You look up warily, searching him like you did before, trying to find any signs of dishonesty, but he looked earnest. Genuine.

He continued. “I need to know that you’re going to give this your best shot, or we’re both dead.”

Your voice was still hoarse, but it was beginning to gain a bit of life. However, you weren’t sold yet. “Why would you help me? How can I trust you?”

He shrugged, looking away. “I was looking for a purpose, and I think I’ve found one.” He sighed, before continuing, “This place is just a means for survival. Nothing has mattered in a long time.” He looked back up at you, determined. Strong. “This matters. You need to get out, we both do.”

Maybe...you could trust him. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t a trap. After all, what else did you have to lose? “What’s your plan?”

“We can’t leave today, so you’re going to have to survive another day. Can you do that?” 

You nodded, and he took a deep breath before continuing. “Hyuk is on shift tonight, but when it’s my turn tomorrow, we can get out of here. I can only get you so far, so from there I’ll have to give you directions for the rest of the way.”

You raised your brows in surprise, “What do you mean? You aren’t coming with me?” you eyed him in confusion, “I thought you wanted to get out of here too.”

He nodded, “I do, but I need to be here to lead them in the other direction once they notice you’re missing. Otherwise they’ll simply catch up with us and we’ll both be killed.” He’s clearly thought this through. “I’ll find you later, when Jiho inevitably sends us out to find you.”

You nodded vigorously, and he grew solemn, his next words spoken low. “But above all else, you need to avoid Taeil. He spared you before, but he will not hesitate a second time.” He visibly shivered, “remember, for you that man means death. Avoid him.”

You flinched violently at the sound of another knock at the door, immediately triggering your fight or flight response. Hyoseob calmly stood up, giving you a knowing look before responding to the presence behind the door. “Hyuk, you here to take over?”

You recognized the voice from this morning. You did not like him. “Yep. Care to let me in?”

Hyoseob moved to open the door, and you returned to your fetal position on the bed. You needed to play this smart, you couldn’t seem hopeful, or they’d smell a plan. Hyoseob gave you a nod before opening the door, letting Hyuk in.

Hyuk, physically, was the polar opposite of Hyoseob. While Hyoseob had soft, rounded, almost childlike features, Hyuk was pointed in every way. His high cheekbones jutted just below his narrow eyes, and his lips seemed to be pressed into a permanent scowl. Especially when he took in the sight of you.

“My turn babysitting the brat.” He looked back casually at Hyoseob, “All set to switch out?”

He nodded in response, knowing better than to spare you a glance before exiting. You couldn’t help watch him as he left. You wondered if he’d ever truly know how much he’s doing for you.

“Like what you see?”

Your gaze quickly snapped to Hyuk, who was simply watching you with a smirk. “W-what do you mean?” You were conscious of your tone, keeping it weak, small.

“I saw you, watching Hyoseob.” He got a little closer, looming over you as you still sat on the bed. “You’re not into him, are you?”

This was a good cover, how kind of Hyuk to hand it to you. You faked panic, fairly familiar with how it looked at this point. “N-no! Of course not!” You artfully avoided his gaze, almost relishing in how much he was buying it. “You w-won’t say anything t-to Jiho will you?” you trembled your bottom lip. Nice touch.

His grin grew, “Are you going to pursue him too? Wrap him around your fingers like you did our boss?” He walked around the bed, still looming. “I heard you were quite the little whore at the farmhouse. I’d bet you slept around quite a bit over there...all those boys...”

Okay, now you were mad. But you knew better than to show it, it was better to channel it into something else. Though your pride hated you for it, you held your face in your hands and shook your shoulders, fake crying. You don’t think you could muster any more tears.

He chuckled, eating your act right up. “Taeil was right, you’re pathetic.” you heard him move away from you, and towards the door. You couldn’t help but peek a little. “I honestly don’t know what Jiho sees in you. Fuckable, maybe, but this all seems like overkill.”

Another knock sounded at the door, and you abandoned the act, a bit caught off guard as you looked up from your hands. Who else is here? Did Hyoseob come back?

Luckily, Hyuk was turned away from you, now facing the door as he approached it. “I think you have a visitor, slut.” He snickered. God you hated his stupid voice. “But probably not the kind you’re into.”

He opened the door, and revealed Taeil on the other side, a sick grin spread across his face.

Shit.

Taglist: @leetaemintrashnumber1​ @peachescherryheart​ @claire4799​

(If anyone else would like to be tagged, please feel free to let me know!)

[aces-to-apples]

AO3

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Mind Manipulation, Mind Rape, Mind Control, Psychological Torture, Memory Manipulation, Flashbacks, Implied Sexual Roleplay

Chapter 1: ramikadyc

The clone resists, as is their wont.

Mandalorians prized strength above all else, but to clones, it was loyalty. To the wretched Republic, to the Jedi rotten to the core, to each other, it all amounted to the same thing. Pawns for Sidious, bodies to step over on the path to victory.

He will not give Maul the information willingly, but that is of no import.

Kast holds the belligerent clone still as he begins the process of probing his mind. The Force swirls around them in agitated eddies, but Maul pushes them aside, impatient to find what he’s looking for.

He screams—of course, he does—when his shields, no doubt shored up by Jedi interference, break against the might of Maul’s will. And then his mind is open, but it is chaotic, thoughts and feelings and memories irrelevant to his search clouding his search. A clever defense, to be sure; if an enemy breaches the walls, overwhelm them with numbers.

Maul wades through sense memories of battle, dust-filled air coating his mouth and choking his lungs, blood and broken bones ignored and left untended, the comforting weight of armor and weapons dragging him beneath the waves—

Traumatic, disturbing, upsetting as they are, he pushes them aside.

The buzz of a thousand conversations never had come next, less easily parsed as they converge upon him all at once, made all the more difficult by the similarity of the voices.

… hit the deck, that was close, what’s your I.D. number, who’s your captain again, I can’t believe he’s gone, local chow’s worse than rations, can’t hold you liquor, civvies are so damned weird, I’m hit, love you too, attention troopers, nice to see you again, we made it, what’s that smell, gods I hate these missions, so much for downtime, why don’t you kiss me and find out, Jedi are so karking weird, bet you my next shift I can hit that, what was that, what’s going on, someone’s in here, get out, getoutgetoutgetout…

These, Maul allows to wash over him without a struggle, and soon the voices crystallize.

“Good work, 5597!” Alpha-17 praises as much as he ever does, prompting a bloom of pride in his chest. “Keep it up and we’ll make a decent ARC of you yet.”

“I’m just doing it for fun!” Hardcase laughs as their trio careens through the atmosphere, nearly a parody of himself as the stress of the campaign becomes worse and worse. He was never so foolhardy at the beginning of the war, dammit. And then he’s out of his ship and telling them to get out, dragging the missile-launcher through to the reactor core and saying, “Live to fight another day, boys!”

“You know, we could get caught,” Kix protests half-heartedly as he presses open-mouthed kisses up the side of his neck. “The commander’s due for a growth-cycle any day now and—”

—there, yes, the commander, Ahsoka Tano—

The new commander is a shiny, cadet-sized Togruta all of seven years old to their eyes. Few nicknames have stuck over the years, Twinblade and Kih’verd chief among them, but she was eyn vod like any other. She even grew like they did, in fits and spurts, and she wasn’t perfect but she was a good soldier, val kih’verd…

“… Motir ca'tra nau tracinya… Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a…”

No, that isn’t what he—

“… Aruetyc talyc runi'la solus cet o'r… Motir ca'tra nau tracinya…”

Ahsoka Tano, who is Ahsoka Tano, the little sister of their hearts, where did the memory—

… sorry, Kixy…

This isn’t what Maul is looking for, this isn’t what he wants, and he presses harder into the trooper’s mind. “Who is Ahsoka Tano?” he repeats, growling at the clone’s stubborn resistance.

“You want in,” he snarls in reply, face a rictus of pain, “then you come all the way in.”

And then his mind opens wide, latches onto Maul, and heaves.

.

. .

. . .

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t do this after we left Pir’haran,” Kix says into his mouth, sly and victorious even as JesseMaul cages him in against one of the medbay cots. “Something about it being unprofessional to break formation now that the war’s on…”

JesseMaul grins. “I did,” he acknowledges, “but haven’t you heard? I’m a lieutenant now. You going against your CO’s orders?”

“Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod? That sounds suspiciously like an abuse of authority,” Kix replies wickedly. “What if I were to alert someone? Tell them a lieutenant is trying to leverage his shiny new rank in exchange for… inappropriate favors?”

“Ooo-oooh,” JesseMaul groans, starting out mocking and trailing off into something far more pleasurable as Kix bites at his ear. “That what you want, baarur’ika? To come see me in the brig—cuffed and completely at your mercy. Sounds a bit heartless.”

Kix’s hands crash suddenly against his chest, and for a brief second JesseMaul worries that he’d gone too far with that one, but Kix continues shoving him until his back hits the wall, hard. “What I want is for you to stop talking,” he growls and begins tugging at their greys.

JesseMaul shivers. “Think you can order a lieutenant around, baar’ur?”

Meeting his eyes very deliberately, Kix leans over and slams his fist onto the door’s locking mechanism. Then he drags the flat of his knuckles around the skin of his left ear, like tucking away a lock of hair. “Haven’t you heard, lieutenant? Medical outranks everyone. Now, are you gonna respect the chain-of-command, ver’alor?”

His voice goes deep and rumbling with authority and JesseMaul shudders. “Yes, sir.”

. . .

. .

.

JesseMaul can’t breathe properly, but dares not shift to a more comfortable position.

He’s carrying precious cargo, after all.

“Will he be okay?” the voice of Torrent’s newest addition, Double, asks quietly. “I mean, does anyone have medical training?”

Their ragtag little fireteam all answer in the negative and all ask themselves the same question. What do they do when their medic is the one who needs help?

Kix’s head lolls to the side as JesseMaul staggers into their makeshift camp, knees buckling under the weight of his burc’ya and the pain of a few cracked ribs. Nothing he can’t take, but he wishes Kix was at least conscious to berate him for it. The other three, bless their hearts, can’t tell the difference.

“I don’t like just sitting here,” Trouble murmurs, nervously field-stripping her deece.

“Neither do I,” JesseMaul agrees, making her startle. “But the Commander said to wait for extraction, so we wait for extraction.”

Explosions and blasterfire shake the ground and light up the night, but cut off from the battle, they can do nothing but sit and wait. Later, at the medcenter after the battle is won, he watches Kix’s eyes flutter open and then narrow in suspicion at his tired smile.

“And here you keep saying that I’m the one who needs looking after, baruur’ika.”

Even beat up and barely conscious, Kix scoffs. “You do need looking after, verd’ika. S’why you got me.”

JesseMaul laughs brokenly. “Then how ‘bout we make it official, eh?” At his riduur’s stunned expression, he leans down and gently presses their foreheads together. “I don’t ever want to hold you in my arms like that, again—knowing that I could help you if we’d just got our heads out of our shebse and cross-trained earlier. What do you say, Kixy?

“Marry me?”

.

. .

. . .

The Alor’verd laughs himself sick when they turn in their “paperwork” for the union.

Grumbling, Captain Rex chucks a shiny gold credit chit at his head and glares at them. “Couldn’t wait another month, lads?”

Kix rolls his eyes but JesseMaul slings an arm around his shoulder and knocks their helmets together as he drapes himself dramatically against his vod’uur. “Sorry, captain,” he lies without a shred of remorse, “I just couldn’t help myself. I’m sure Commander Kote will give it back to you once Boil and Waxer submit their forms, though.”

“Don’t count on it,” the commander snorts. “Those two’ll need something drastic to make them admit to breaking formation.”

“Eh, give it time,” Captain Rex says, malcontent easing slightly at the prospect. “You two said your vows yet? Or did you wanna go the nat-born route? When te verd’ika found out that Sweets and Bitters went for a civilian ceremony, she made me promise to ask if she could officiate the next one.”

Blinking at the unexpected offer, JesseMaul and Kix exchange rueful grins. “We said them,” Kix says slowly, and JesseMaul continues, “But if Commander Tano is that keen on it, I don’t think we’ll mind saying them again.”

Commander Kote snorts again. “I’m sure you won’t,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ll send out a leave-wide comm, ask if anyone else wants to attend. Only you Torrent vode, I swear…”

The captain chuckles, refusing to be insulted. He taps his comm and says, “Commander Tano, are you available to come down to the barracks in about an hour?”

“Of course, Rex,” her voice crackles across the airwaves. “Is there a problem?”

“Sure is, sir,” he says, winking at them. “Same one Bitters and Sweets had last leave, if you recall the particulars.”

Commander Tano’s gasp and muffled, “Excuse me, Master Plo, I have to go!” has the lot of them smiling at each other. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, Rexster! Don’t let it start without me—”

. . .

. .

.

Finally wrenching himself out of the ver’alor’s—the lieutenant’s—the clone’s grasp, Maul bares his teeth in triumph. “There she is,” he hisses, and follows the thread to the information he seeks. The clone thrashes in Kast’s grip but in his effort to obfuscate any information about the former Jedi, he’d given Maul just the opening he needed to find it.

He shrieks in her grip as Maul delves deeper into the recesses of his mind, chasing every scrap of memory about Ahsoka Tano, and Maul feels a stirring of pity. When he finally relents, content in what he’s found, he gestures for Kast to release him.

“You have heart, lieutenant,” Maul says, crouching down to meet the slumped trooper’s gaze. His face is blotchy and contorted with residual pain, tear-tracks stark against his skin. “I believe I may admire that.”

The lieutenant, Jesse, shudders at the words, cringing away from him.

Carefully, gently, Maul brushes his fingers against the clone’s temple and a compulsion against his pain-filled mind. “Now, be at ease, lieutenant. You’ve done marvelously.”