#layer of tragedy to him that often gets ignored

[waltzing-rats]

Ok so i was researching individual trivia and facts for all the kny characters, which i could use in my Wisteria Street AU and

His character as a whole is a lot angstier than i first thought and i am. So digging this.

[cursedfortune]

6. for our muses to have drunk sex 

Quiet. @fallesto in relation to this. because i can. >:)c

Regulus was a lightweight, it turned out. Which didn't surprise his wife in the slightest, seeing how he quite literally barely ate or drank anything in his life. His experience with wine had been minimal, she knew. Which was why she was so amused when he decided to roleplay pretending they were strangers meeting for the first time earlier in the night.

A game she was all too happy to engage in. A lone witch of a woman at quite the impressive banquet-- alone. A true tragedy. It was slander on his tongue to say she wasn't married, especially when he was so cheekily brushing back her hair to view their version of a wedding ring. It only made her lips curve into a smirk. Perhaps teaching him to play around helped after-all? Though her husband did often tend to surprise her in his own ways with games. This one was definitely new.

They spoke as if they had never met while sharing knowing glances - the room itself wholly ignored. Her dance card had no hope for any other, not when he occupied it in full. Even when they were just pretending to not know one another, they still clicked in all the right ways.

The alcohol made by humans wasn't potent enough for her, unfortunately, but she managed to keep up with him by pouring her own brew into her glass between those he stole off of trays to give to her. Watching as her husband became more and more prone to the alcohol he was consuming. She caught up to him right quick, just before they decided to go for a stroll out in the large courtyard...

And then nothing.

What happened...?

The witch was face down in his chest, mostly on her stomach and... her legs were positioned weird. His were too. She lifted her head and squinted, sighing at the brightness of the curtains left open. And them, ah, tangled up with one another in a poor state of undress. Yet she knew well how it felt the next day whenever they indulged in the flesh, it was clear to her at least one thing that happened last night.

Fragments of wandering the courtyard, keeping up their charade - romancing one another. Sultry voices, seductive touches. Despite how they explored this place, they couldn't keep their hands off one another and it became too much. Every corner they tucked away in led to them being shooed off, never making it beyond heated kisses and some fondling. But that hardly seemed to dampen their mood as they made their way back to their room and, behind closed doors, could properly ravish one another.

It was rather unhinged, wasn't it? All restraint out the window. No thoughts, just carnal desires. No working her husband up to realizing she was trying to have sex with him. No games or dancing around it. They hadn't even managed to get undressed fully. His outer layers were stripped but his shirt was still one, mostly unbuttoned and completely untucked. His pants had been undone enough to get the job done.

Mortem squinted. She couldn't see her undergarments. They were missing. This dress had been perfect for hiking up and holding onto to. They had been fully invested, drunk, impassioned-- and unrelenting. It had been quite the dance, no? Meeting with such unfiltered intensity, uncaring for how messy they were. Hair a mess, clothing ripped and pulled in places. Bruising grips as they sought to wrangle one another however they wished.

She had fitted herself upon his lap so perfectly; reddened his lips with every kiss and tease of her teeth. Her makeup smeared upon her lips first, his own sporting the ashen color not that either of them were focused on such. All there was, was his hands on her hips - gripping her tight as she rode him. She could remember how his hand tore open part of the front of her dress, leaving her mostly in the bra beneath - only to become too distracted by pleasure, forced to hold on tight.

Again. Their positions changes; breathy chuckles between eager moans and groans. At some point the bed became crooked. Chances are when she was gripping the bedding when he planted his feet upon the floor behind her.

How long were they at it for? She wondered if the wine just threw out all his restraint. It wasn't that unusual for them to seek a couple of orgasms but last night was a blur of bodies moving in tandem and seeking release again and again.

Until their lovemaking sent them to the floor, tangled not just in clothing and limbs, but upon the blankets as well. Exhausted, they had rolled over and she passed out. Face first upon his chest, as he had done many times upon hers.

"I don't have bones." The witch whined softly as her face met his chest again. Oh... her head was pounding. Much like what they did the night prior. Eyo'!

It took her a long moment there before she lifted her face once more and squinted. The rest of the room... was a mess. They must have taken it away from the bed at one point. Things knocked off of surfaces, some artwork was crooked. How many times...?

Oh. Oh her legs were still jelly. How was that possible with her spell?!

The witch squished her cheek against his check, listening to his heartbeat. A drunk husband hellbent on roleplaying seemed to really get him going. Absolutely noted.

[typhoonvash]

this will be an open starter, but it is dark, so be warned cw: medical body horror, kidnapping, experimentation, etc.! mute thread now if you do not want to see it.

⩥ "anonymous" asked:

You dart across the dusty plain, drawn by the cries of a child in distress. A girl, no older than seven, stares at your arrival, tears streaming down her dirt-smudged face. You offer a comforting smile, aiming to ease her fears, but your heart pounds with a sense of urgency. The girl sniffles, her trembling form seeming to relax. She rushes forward, arms wrapping around your neck. You're taken aback by her sudden affection until a sharp sting pricks your neck. Suddenly, the world spins. You stagger back, a hand flying to your neck to pull out a tiny syringe. The girl retreats, her frightened facade melting away as she watches you with cold, calculating eyes. Voices murmur around you, growing louder as your vision blurs. Hazy figures circle around you, their legs the only thing visible before darkness takes hold. When you regain consciousness, you find yourself bound to an operating table, the harsh glare of spotlights above you. A murmur of anticipation fills the room, the chatter of an audience hidden in the shadows beyond the lights. A figure steps forward, a scalpel glinting ominously in their hand. You open your mouth to protest, but all that escapes is a muffled scream — a mask was over your mouth pumping an anesthetic into your lungs. It burns, and you cough violently, struggling against your restraints. The surgeon stares at you for a moment before pressing the blade against your flesh starting the first incision. The blade glides across the marked line on you and then he grabs forceps to pull the layer of skin back.

Vash the Stampede is rarely one to be caught off-guard.

He's fallen for the same trick before—a young child in danger, a child lost, a child freshly orphaned—but what is he supposed to do? Ignore them? No, they all deserve the benefit of the doubt. Vash has saved more children than he has fallen for victims of traps, well, saved temporarily at least—often some other tragedy would befall their homes after he saved them.

Because Vash is the Humanoid Typhoon, and disastrous winds follow in his wake.

This child's location was tipped off by a mourning mother and a rowdy group of thugs. The mother's husband recently died morbidly and her daughter saw; the girl ran away in shock somewhere to the north. Vash comforted the mother, promising to bring her baby back, but he wasn't the only one to hear the story—the thugs had as well.

Unfortunately, selling children is often more lucrative than returning them.

So no, Vash couldn't ignore this, and he had to head out quickly before the bandits could get to her. They met near an abandoned warehouse, where the blond had no choice but to incapacitate them. The battle was bloody, and left him with a few fresh wounds, but eventually all four of the bandits keeled over, hopefully long enough for Vash to get in and get out.

She was well-dressed and gripping her hat against her face before looking at Vash with dark, tear-stained eyes. The Stampede stated his intention to bring her home, and she ran up to hug him—

Mistake. Needle prick. Darkness.

⇉⇉⇉

Bright sterile lights. Glares bouncing off from chromatic medical tools. The hum of machinery, computers, space age technology. Murmuring.

Vash can't move his limbs. There's a breathing mask covering his nose and mouth, pumping something into him—anesthesia, he thinks—but it could be anything. His clothes are replaced with a scrappy medical gown, which feels completely pointless as Vash peeks at the doctors—scientists?—cutting him open.

Wait. Cutting him open?

He breaks into a cold sweat as he nauseously realizes he can't feel it. Worse still is the drowsiness, sick feeling, and vulnerability of it all. If he screamed, it wouldn't matter; no one will find him here. There's a glint of hope that Wolfwood would notice him gone, but how would he know where to look? Maybe Knives would see these scientists operating on him like—

Is this what Tesla felt? Is this what Wolfwood felt?

The panic, the trembling, only serves to annoy the scientists. The anesthesiologist says... something. Everything is too muffled, like Vash's head is full of fluff. He's drifting... drifting...

[amethysttribble]

List ten different favorite characters from ten different pieces of media, and tag ten people!  

Thank you so much @himemiyaaah for the tag, I’m sorry I took forever to do this! We’re organizing these by piece of media

Celegorm: by god, if you look at his character for a little bit, there is so much going on with him! He’s friends with Orome, he has a magic angel dog, he’s super close with Curufin despite the age difference, he’s friendly with his cousins and he gets Finrod killed, he’s an elegant speaker, his followers commit the most abhorrent crime of the kinslayings, he’s assaults Luthien, he’s close with Aredhel, he’s a renowned hunter and failure as a military general. There’s so many layers and contradictions and I love him. (Silm)

Elwing: She is my baby girl, and once I write my ‘conversations between Elwing and Maglor’s Wife’ fic, it’s over for you bitches. She’s just... so resolute, and so sad, and so angry, and she turns into a BIRD and I don’t know what more you want from me. (Silm)

Curufin: Every time I write Curufin I black out and then pages upon pages of the most miserable words on the planet are recorded on screen, and I don’t know what that says about me (Silm)

 Percy de Rolo: this tragic white-haired anime boy with a gun has entranced me, mind body and soul. He really misses his family, you guys T_T (Critical Role, C1)

 Veth Brenatto: This woman is one of the most fascinating characters at the Critical Role table, and that she gets reduced to “Caleb’s mom” so often is fucking criminal, I LOVE her and want her to be happy and blow shit up (Critical Role, C2)

Hubert von Vestra: listen... I’m a sucker for the loyal (male) retainer to the driven at all costs, morally questionable (female) leader. And also they were platonic soulmates. Hubert is a spooky vampire who lives on devotion, and I fucking love him. (fe3h)

Catherine Morland: I recently remembered why Northanger Abbey is my favorite Austen book, she’s just a fucking hoot, I wish I could be her (Northanger Abbey)

Sanji: Sanji, sanji, sanji, WHAT am I to do with you? The most character of all time, so well written sometimes, so poorly written on others. He is forever and always my One Piece blorbo (One Piece)

Catelyn Stark: This woman... Need it be said how goddamn amazing Cat is? I’m not sure it does, my the unbridled tragedy of her watching lose her family one by one, how war steals her young son from her and she is forced to watch, rattling against the bars of the patriarchal cage, and she STILL has a higher on page kill count than Robb? She was already perfect and then she died and cam back a wraith bent on revenge, no one is doing it like her. (asoiaf)

Shimura Shinpachi: MY FUCKING SON! The most important Gintama character and also the most underrated, he’s just a sweet lad, doing his best!! He’s so good to Kagura, and so good to his sister, and so good his friends, and he just wants to be a samurai but also he’s a son of the new age, and he’s trying so hard and I LOVE HIM. (Gintama)

Again, can’t do 10 people, I can give you 5. @agroupofcrows, @aipilosse, @arofili, @shrikeseams, @shiroandblack, feel free to answer or ignore at your leisure!

[cassynite]

For Ophenia:

27. Has a chance encounter ever had an unexpected effect on them?

For Vonzi:

44. Who, if anyone, would they trust with their deepest secrets?

For Sparrow:

10. Do they have any regrets?

OOooh thank you so much for the good questions Dujour!! (I'm sorry I already got Sparrow's tho lol)

Openia: Has a chance encounter ever had an unexpected effect on them?

Yes, in fact! As I've touched on before, Ophenia's first wife's death devastated her pretty badly. One of the things she ended up doing towards the end of her life was write a novel where her wife was the protagonist; after she died, Ophenia had it published, but it wasn't a big hit or anything--much too sad, even with the hopeful ending Ophenia had given it because she couldn't bear to leave her wife in a story of tragedy. The book was more of a vanity thing, to get it in binding, than an actual attempt to make it marketable.

But it was sold, and a few years after Ophenia did it and was deep in a pretty long depression/detachment slump, she ended up running across someone who had, in fact, read it--a Forlorn elf who had seen his own lost spouse in the pages and who thanked Ophenia for giving him something that he could hold on to and cherish the rest of his days.

The interaction didn't last long; Ophenia hadn't felt terribly comfortable seeing someone who ultimately shared her fate of outliving everyone they loved. But it did cement the idea that, while those people died, the books she wrote about them would stay forever. She'd start writing her second novel shortly afterward, and her career started to flourish.

Vonzi: Who, if anyone, would they trust with their deepest secrets?

*Alicia Keys voice* No one, no one, no one~~~

Vonzi's deepest secrets stay where they belong, in a box she's got locked in the back of her mind and suppressed under fifteen layers of self-assurance. Why would she ever share those when she can just bury them and ignore it all until the day she dies?

Hypothetically, someone could get close enough that she'd be willing to divulge those secrets. But even then it would be difficult and not something she'd be able to talk about very often.

[stygiusfic]

styg’s story thoughts (I): character reactions

(This post is brought to you by my wonderful friends who asked about my thoughts on plotting!)

We tend to think of plotting as what happens next or what the characters do, ie. action. But stories are a cycle of action-reaction, and we don't always give the reaction part its full weight. Three-act structure has both action and reaction beats, yet the so-called "major" beats that manuals like Save the Cat recommend defining first are all action: Catalyst, Break into 2, Midpoint, All Is Lost, Break into 3... 

Of course all of those have matching reaction beats, so reactions aren't being ignored by the 3-act model; it's just that the established process is to figure out reactions after you've got the action down. Chronologically, that makes sense. But I think that leads us to see reactions as the less important half, when in fact they are what breathes life into any story.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and it's helped me feel a lot more connected to whatever I'm writing, so I want to talk about it here. 

Reactions shape a story to a degree that sets it apart from others with similar chains of events. Because anything could happen to anyone—but people rarely view or feel about everything the same exact way. The same events told from different perspectives can radically change what type of story it becomes!

Imagine this: if you're going somewhere with plenty of time to spare, and you miss the train you were planning to take, well, it's alright, you can wait for the next one, or maybe walk partway. But if you're running late, like I often am, and you miss the train, you're probably going to get really stressed out. And if you were going somewhere important to you, there will be an added layer of urgency and frustration when you miss the train, making that seem even more dire.

What I mean is: no event is intrinsically significant. The characters' reactions make it so.

Any event is important in the eyes of the story and the audience only to the degree that the characters assign importance to it. And this degree of importance also determines who the characters are, which in turn answers the question of what they do next.

Here's a classic example that blew my mind when I heard it phrased in these terms recently: Shakespeare's Othello.

The action that jumpstarts the tragic spiral—Iago planting Othello’s wife’s handkerchief in Cassio’s room—is in itself only significant because of Othello's reaction. If Othello had decided to not freak out and jump to conclusions when he discovered it—if, instead, he'd had a healthy conversation with his wife and cleared up Iago's deception—the story would have been very different! But Othello reacts with jealousy and mistrust of Desdemona (as Iago wanted him to). Those feelings fester, and move him to eventually kill her and, later, himself. That’s why the story becomes a tragedy—because Othello’s reactions leave no room for any other outcome.

And it starts with a stupid handkerchief! But the handkerchief is important to us because it's important to Othello. 

This is why, when trying to come up with "big" moments for an outline, sometimes rather than starting with actions it's easier to think first: what kind of reaction am I looking to provoke at this stage? Am I looking for a turn for the better or a turn for the worse? And then second: what kind of action would trigger that reaction?

The ways in which characters care, or don't—and by extension the ways we as the audience care—make up a big part of the story and can define tone and genre as well.

Another example: imagine a character commits murder. 

Murder is an act that we can all universally agree is big and bad and world-shaking. There are countless stories that center around a murder (or many) and how they shape the lives of the characters who suffered in the wake of that act, creating stories of revenge or disillusionment or justice. 

In those stories, murder is Big. But then on the other end of the spectrum, we have Tarantino movies, where characters will shoot someone and not even look while they do it, and the story moves on unbothered. This lack of reaction is a kind of reaction too. It tells us: this is a story in which murder is small and easy and the deaths of random people are unimportant. We don't linger in the unimportant. Those murders carry no moral weight for the audience; we're likelier to feel amazement at the fake blood fountaining on-screen than mourn the loss of a life. But the story will linger in the deaths of characters who are significant, like Bill in Kill Bill. The time spent in his final monologue and the unpacking of motivations and consequences set him apart from the nameless dead and honor his importance to the story.

I believe this is, in part, what people are trying to communicate when they say "show, don't tell". (Which is flawed advice for prose, especially if taken to the extreme, because it was originally an adage for theater, but anyway.) What it means is, if you want the audience to perceive something as important, show the character reacting to it like it's important. Spend time and words in the moments that affect your characters. If you just "tell" the information and move right along, and we don't see any notable reaction, we can assume it's not important and we don't need to emotionally attach to it. 

This is an oversimplification. Sometimes telling is preferable to showing, because showing takes more words and being straightforward has its own place. (And sometimes telling lets you set things up discreetly on the side so you can expand on them later, so you just make them seem unimportant until they're not. There are a million reasons to tell instead of show.) 

But I really love that deciding how much time and space you spend on reactions shapes the action and pacing and feel of the story. Every genre you can think of that "feels" a particular way when done right feels that way because reactions are consistent with the inner logic of the genre. (Meeting a certain stranger a number of times in different places can be exciting in the set-up of a romance; but if it's a thriller, the character noticing the pattern may well be concerned instead.) 

I've been trying more than ever to look for big reactions, and reverse-engineer the events that would prompt them by getting at the heart of the character, because watching someone care too much is way more engaging than watching them care only a little. 

[house-of-mirrors]

5 for samuel, 8 for miles, 23 for orsinio, 39 for lucretia? and F for you

5. How easy is it to earn their mistrust?

Samuel is experienced enough to not inherently trust anyone in the Neath but at the same time has no reason not to trust people. It's exceedingly difficult to get on his bad side unless you perform an abstraction in his bar or start an altercation that threatens his kids. *gif of wolf shepherd slowly shaking head*

8. What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child

Miles has always acted out frequently, trying to get attention from distant parents. How wealthy people raised their children in the era was... painfully not good. Miles is the second youngest so was always passed over. It could have even been something as simple as "Don't get mud on your clothes," always focused on appearances more than anything.

23. How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)? 

Tbh I've never imagined Orsinio as a person particularly prone to jealousy. He deals with a lot of bs from the university with people not respecting him due to his background, but he never is envious of others' status because he knows he's good. He's never not been confident in his cleverness. If Mr Wines showed attention to someone else however, that would be a new experience for him, feeling jealous. He thinks he's special because he knows its secret. To see it being attentive to someone else would cause him to have a bit of a break reevaluating his worldview. Why did he think he could be special to a creature that's known billions of humans?

39. How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people? 

Not very easy. Lucretia can be very blunt, telling it like it is. She has no patience for people feeling sorry for themselves. When she lived with Horatio and he'd get in his head about things or make poor choices, she'd go back and forth with him. Probably not the best approach but it's how she is, hard from life. The exception is she has a soft spot for Orsinio, being ten years older than him and having known him since he was a kid. They got mixed up together grieving for Horatio and she partially blames herself for letting Orsinio go to the Neath, so she lets a lot of things go.

F (pay respects): What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?

I get really excited thinking about my ocs. I'm a writer at heart and adore coming up with themes, motifs, satisfying plot arcs, and in some cases Shakespearean tragedies about my little guys. The LAYERS... especially lately I've been having so much fun playing sunless skies and imagining my captain's relationship to the Judgements and increasing role as a conduit of communication for them.

[tumblingxelian]

I think we have very different opinions on this comic and situation, sorry, I actually liked the contrast. Not that being sympathetic is a bad thing.

But a big part of what I find enjoyable about Stephanie is the contrast in her usually cheery persona and the deep anger always welling inside her. I like the fact she works to embody hope and heroism while always having this behind the scenes undercurrent of cynicism.

Jason, Barbara & Bruce all had good parents (I ignore the Willis retcons) while Stephanie's father abused her and her mother but keeping being let back in. Trust is not something she gives easily and that's valid.

Jason, Barbara & Bruce see the man first, Stephanie is seeing the people he hurt & both those are valid standpoints to me.

I also like it because Bruce is usually framed, be it by authors or his more pushy fans, as this peak logical, no emotions badass. Which is blatantly untrue when he's actually incredibly emotional, he's just not expressive.

This is something Bruce himself often thinks while tearing down others, especially Stephanie, as too emotional or irrational to be trusted.

So, a comic that very bluntly makes it obvious Bruce is in denial about how much his personal feelings influence him and Stephanie whose usually dismissed being the one to highlight it works for me.

I also think we have a disagreement on how the comic frames Harvey's father. I took everything Harvey said as basically a layer of like, sardonic hinting. With the framing and his fathers general attitude making him come off not as noble but as cold and cruel.

Basically the public perception of the man and the man himself not matching. So it was still very much Harvey killing is abuser, its just the kind of abuser his dad was and his rationales were different.

Broadly speaking as a categorical Steph enjoyer, I think she'd not be super sympathetic beyond a general, "Yeah that sucks man." This isn't meant to be stanning ever aspect of her. Stephanie's often underlying dismissal for sympathetic motives is one of her more negative traits.

Though I doubt she'd use right wing talking points to frame it. She's more given to sarcasm along the lines of, "Oh daddy was mean to me & I'm poor so I needed to murder to teenagers with a chainsaw!" Again, not exactly an ideal attitude.

However, sad trait makes sense for her character given Arthur and the like, and its one of those situational things. Cos abusers do weaponize stuff like their own tragedies be they real or not, or exploit others empathy in order to maintain their position and control.

I think we have very divergent opinions on Harvey as well. Don't get me wrong, I like him, but I am not sure why he'd give Cluemaster the time of day on Stephine's behalf. Like maybe if enough circumstances aligned it could work, but it'd take a lot of labor or contrivance.

Though as to her feelings, hard to say. She's usually not thrilled when he is dead but has also tried to kill him. I think she'd maybe not appreciate the choice being taken out of her hands regardless.

I also think its worth noting one of the big things she highlighted was that Bruce is not normally this sympathetic to criminals.

Yes, I know in some comics or cartoons he is, but in those same comics and cartoons he'll also engage in terror, torture or slam a random muggers head against a wall so hard it makes a blood splatter the size of their chest cavity.

IE, Bruce isn't showing ideological purity here, he isn't reinforcing his beliefs anyone can change and do good. He isn't even being sympathetic to a troubled person because empathy.

Bruce is very specifically giving Harvey Dent special considerations he would not give others in Harvey's positions, that he wouldn't even give Stephanie, solely because he likes Dent personally.

People are never going to be their ideological purest self & that's fine, personal feelings happen. But Steph got called out all the time for that stuff but its so rare to see Bruce called on the same. But the truth is we all need that person whose like, "You are letting this get too personal & need to back up or you're going to make mistakes." That's just human.

A part of why I enjoy the comic is because Stephanie spent so much time, so many comics and years and arcs. Being treated as this stupid, overly emotional incompetent.

Someone who so often existed to be wrong and talked down at by rich guys & people with far more power, resources & influence than she did. Who faced elaborate 'tests' that were designed to make her fail & relied on taking advantage of her trust.

Who was just generally treated like garbage & eventually was tortured to death & died just so Bruce could angst more while the narrative went out of its way to assure us none of it was "his" fault. But instead it was hers and everyone else around him.

After all that, I very much take joy in seeing her come out the gate swinging.

"You are letting your personal feelings cloud your judgement. You are giving someone whose hurt you and so many others another chance while not taking any precautions & that's a problem."

Then has Bruce avoid any of her observations or points (As usual) and instead start jabbing at her trauma and treating her as hysterical,

"He's not your dad, I'm not your mum, the people he hurt aren't you, so stop being irrational."

IE, missing that she was drawing from experience but not projecting said trauma, which is not something Bruce can do. He's one of the worlds biggest projectors.

But for once she gets to be right for once, rather than Bruce once again being able to strut around like he's cock of the walk because only 'his' emotions are rational.

Like, there is a complicated conversation to be had regarding abuse, survivors, forgiveness, mental illness, trauma and more.

But I don't think that conversation is necessarily helped by an abuse victim expressing understandable skepticism, being framed as wrong, bad or unfair-

-Really she wasn't even being unreasonable, just telling Bruce not to let his personal feelings cloud his judgement & be aware people you love can hurt you even when they say they won't & even believe it-

Because she wanted to be cautious about just blindly trusting the guy who has a history of doing them harm. Cos unfortunately, speaking from personal experience here, that can and does happen.

Honestly Batman comics are kind of a hot mess to discuss the treatment of those struggling with mental health in general. Like I get wanting them to do it but by gods is there a lot of fucking baggage there.

I think a big thin in regards to how people respond to Harvey is that given how... Extreme his situation is,

IE, mass murdering criminal master mind, mob boss, but also heroic defender of the little people, who has tried again and again to pull himself out of hell & risked it all for others, & deeply troubled and traumatized man.

Is that responses to him are always going to come from different angles, be they focused on the tragedy he represents, the terror he spread or the tremulous line in between. But I don't think that's strictly a bad thing because the scale he operates on makes him far more complicated than someone just to be sympathized with.

I hope this made sense.

Bruce, Jason, and Babs feeling sorry for Harvey

[jackdaw-kraai]

Every time I reread the Guides verse I'm of course stunned by how amazing it is. The humanity of the characters, the richness of the culture, the engaging plot, it's all absolutely fantastic. But also it's a truly Shakespearean comedy and I adore it for that. The dramatic irony of it all makes me giggle every time. Luke has like, five different identities and just doesn't bother to mention the last name that would reveal the entire conspiracy. Vader, Mr. War Crimes himself, grows to love Luke as his son entirely unaware that Luke is his blood son. Obi-wan and Bail think Vader knows the truth and is trying to turn poor innocent Luke to the Dark Side or might even kill him. Vader is planning to make Luke Heir to the Empire. Luke does not know this either, and in fact does not realize even when everyone around him figures it out. Leia, Luke and Vader co-exist in the same room together, without violence and ignorant of their blood ties. Somehow, across the vastness of space and their respective positions, and by the grace of Space Youtube, father finds not the daughter who was hidden in the literal Imperial Court but the son that was hidden on a planet who's only distinctive known characteristics were sand and how much Vader hated even thinking about it (except for, you know, the badass secret religion of which Luke is a devoted warrior monk of dedicated to freeing slaves and taps into a similar something to the Force). Obi-wan handed Luke off to Owen thinking he'd be raised an simple farmboy safe from the Empire. Luke became a Runner and joined the Empire right under Obi-wan's nose with his aunt and uncle's approval. Palpatine has Luke in his throne room and they small talk with like ten different layers of subtext that I'm pretty sure neither entirely understood. Obi-wan and Bail are living in a permanent state of distress and no one else knows just how badly their plan screwed up. No one else in the galaxy knows what tf is going on with Luke Lars, some random kid from the Outer Rim who just revolutionized the stormtrooper armour, but the memes are great. I could go on, it's just hit after hit and I don't know how you keep track of everything people do and do not know but it's wonderful.

As I often say: all good comedy is only two steps removed from tragedy. And, of course, the same is true vice versa.

The Guides runs on this stuff, and I can't even begin to tell you how many more layers of absolutely ludicrously dramatic irony there is to everything about Luke and Vader. Absolutely no one has the full picture here. No one. The one who possibly knows the most is Vader, and you've seen his PoV. Everyone is an unreliable narrator, and no one knows it.

Everyone has their own agenda, and yet, barely anyone seems to realize that everyone has their own agenda, with the person most consistently dodging suspicion of having one being Luke. The sheer fact that the rising star within the Empire, known to be mysterious and having suddenly appeared as if out of thin air, still manages to avoid being suspected or having designs on pretty much anything outside of Vader's will, is wild. The fact that someone so clearly rising in power could be thought not to be playing the game while he's redefining it is so stupid it shouldn't be allowed and yet—

And don't even get me started on all the interactions of everyone's agendas, that's a whole 'nother layer of ironies upon ironies. Honestly, it's irony all the way down and that just how I like it.

[starshipsofstarlord]

There was a Girl...

Pairing | Jace Wayland x reader

Summary | When Clary becomes a shadowhunter, she notices how cold and ruthless Jace is. Every one seems to relate to his pain, not resonating at quite the same level. They’re all mourning nevertheless.

Warnings | Mentions of death, brief smut (handjob), angst, heartbreak, unrequited feelings (for Clary)

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Opening your eyes, you awoke to Jace's chest, his blonde hair falling over his face. You preferred how it looked when it was a little bit scruffy instead of slicked back, and you reached for one of the hanging strands. They were like seams of gold, reflecting from the light that hid within him.

Most people had the wrong perspective on the young man, they only saw a well skilled shadow hunter. But they ignored the smart and witty, yet simultaneously charming person that he was underneath all of his runes. His parabatai Alec was familiar with the set of abilities that his brother figure had, and all that he would accomplish. People thought, because of Jace’s distorted, and confusing past, that he was just another warrior to serve whatever institute that he was sent to.

But in fact, he was not. His duty would always be, to put his family and friends first. He liked to put you on the top of the list, but you always felt the need to scrap that idea, claiming that you could not be his priority from start to finish. It was as though you knew what you future held for you, and how indeed, he could not manage to protect every person that he cared about. The prospect was a great responsibility, far too much for one shadow hunter, even if they be among the best of their kind.

To put such a weight on your own shoulders was defiantly cruel, it would always end in failure, no matter what was done to prevent said downfall. There was never a possibility of saving everyone, that was insanity. The monsters had to kill, in order for you all to remain outside of Idris, and continue on with your heaven sent duty.

“Jace?” You could tell he was awake from how he smiled at the sound of your voice. “Come on.” It was an attempt to encourage him, but you were quick to realise that it wasn’t working. He didn’t like mornings all that much, for good reason too, after all you were shadowhunters.

“Jace.” Your voice became louder and clearer, up to the point where it no longer sounded like your own. He looked away from the screen, to see the new girl watching him. She had an expectant glaze to her green eyes, which were much different from the shield that was covering his own. His pools were surrounded by a shadow of grief, pulling down the entirety of his face to the point where it looked as though he no longer wanted to live.

And that wasn’t entirely incorrect, he struggled at life, often never finding a moment of happiness, and if he did, then he would paint a smile upon his face and wear it to satisfy everyone else around. He had tried to cope with the loss that burdened his heart so gravely, yet nothing made it feel okay. You’d want him to move on, whether it be to lose his vengeful esteem concerning your passing, or find someone else to confide in late at night, to stay up with talking as his head rested upon the pillow, that he needed to wash, so it didn’t smell like you.

Or even, if not to share a bed with this new person, your overall plan as you sat with the angels above would be to find some kind of peace. But that appeared to be the last thing that he wanted as he digitally scoured the city of New York for monsters to uncover, and kill. If he couldn’t protect you, the love of his life, then he would settle for doing so with humans, after all, that had been the way that you had gone. The job had been your passion, yet simultaneously your downfall, and he’d be fine if one of these days he failed to tackle a beast, and it got to him first.

“Clary.” He greeted her, wanting to remove a dangerous monster from the streets by decapitating it. In memory, he would use your favourite blade, spilling blood upon its glowing stake to keep your legacy continuing, although, it did not do much but serve to release Jace’s frustrations. It was a day in which he wanted to speak to nobody, have nobody following him, nor asking him mundane questions about what it meant to be a shadowhunter. Hell, he didn’t even know! To him, the lifestyle was nothing more than accommodated anguish, though, he had been told not to promote it using those words, otherwise, there wouldn’t exactly be many people lining up to join the adverse fight.

And one of the people that he had in mind concerning excitement over a dire and ‘exciting’ lifestyle was Clary. She was naive, and whilst she didn’t know everything, today wasn’t particularly the day in which he wished to explain it to her. It, being predominantly anything. Whilst he had managed to be nice to her during the first few days, it was out of courtesy, considering Alec had an instant distaste towards the wide eyed redhead; he wasn’t sure why, but he supposed that Clary could see a detail of himself that was hidden from the others.

However, even through Jace’s welcoming exterior, was in pain. The feeling tormented him, denying him a break from the patronising pressure, leaving him to hold blame to nobody but himself. The hurt was cemented into his eyes, reflecting as he watched all other tragedies with a stone cold expressions, them hardly affecting him, because he had and was experiencing the worst routine of torture that was possible to him. He had watched you die, and nothing could take those horrific memories from him, no matter how much he wanted them gone.

That was the last time that he saw you. When you passed in his arms, a large wound in your abdomen pouring out with blood, drowning his desperate hands as he tried his utmost to put pressure on the life threatening injury. He wanted to save you but he didn’t know how, his training had always claimed that killing the monsters was more important than saving the life of a shadowhunter from an unknown bloodline. There had been nothing to prepare him for that day in the field, he was a fighter, and taught to be so, not a healer; he wasn’t a medic, he was just a warrior. “What do you want?” Blatantly fell from his round lips as he cast an eye towards the newbie, unimpressed by her timing, or her presence at all.

Clearly, she hadn’t received the memo to leave him be, especially today out of all the rest. Alec, having the personalised intel as to why Jace was emitting a solitary rut understood why he wished to be alone, and respected the space, granting him as much time to himself as he wanted. And whilst Alec was your friend also, he could feel the deep longing that was stabbing his parabatai in the chest, and it killed him too. Your death had been so unexpected, and now without you, there was a void within the institute. And the archer felt as though Clary was trying to fill it, and he saw that as nothing more than disrespect, though she was probably ignorant to the history that wandered the halls.

Her face revelled back at his tone, but nevertheless she continued on with her prying. “I was wondering if I could join you on the hunt, I’m getting better, Izzy even said so.” Jace refrained from rolling his eyes, and contained the feeling that was trying to burst out of his chest. It was anger, directed at everyone that was still alive, including himself. There was no fairness in it, to say that he was sad was an understatement, he was eternally devastated, the death of you had broken him, crumbled him into a figure that he no longer recognised.

“No, you can’t Clary.” He dismissed her, walking away, and going to grab his seraph so that he could hunt this sucker down, and bring upon the same kind of pain to its family as its kind had down to him. God, did you look badass as you swung it, and the thought alone had tears resonating in his unmatched eyes, thinking of how it was the last relic that remained of you.

Walking casually into the armoury, Jace had his hands prized in the depths of his pockets, as his expert and quick fleeting eyes focalised on you, and the weapon within your hold. Your body leant in harmony with the blade, the sound of it woosh-img in the air satisfying to all that could hear; that being only you and the Wayland boy.

“Can i not train in peace?” You groaned, lowering the blade whence you realised that you were being watched. The eyes trailed up your side where your shirt had ridden up, raking over the rune that you had drew upon your skin only this morning. A light laugh fell from Jace’s lips as he stalked forward, taking your seraph out of your hand, and going to lob it upon the ground, but the stern look in your eyes stopped him. Instead, against his nature, he placed it down as though it were made of glass, and rose to stand before you once more.

“Not when you look that good.” The blonde retorted with a sly smirk, sliding his hands up the sides of your hips, finding absolute solace in the feel of your skin. He could be against you forever, and he would not complain, so long as it did last for such a time. “Makes me want to do things to you y/n y/l/n. Terrible things. What would the heads think?” He asked, in reference to those that were in charge of the institute.

Stifling down remarked laughter at his sensually intended words, you raised your forefinger to the space above his brows, and poked him with enough pressure, so that he would pay attention to the notion. “That you’re not thinking with your own.” You went to cross your arms, but instead, Jace grabbed them, moving down to cast his hand over your own.

“Oh, I’m not.” The shadowhunter confirmed, placing your hand upon the crotch of his sweats, applying enough force behind his grip so that you could feel him twitching. “I am indeed having thoughts from elsewhere, would you like to see my sweet?” Licking your lips, you nodded, watching as he peeled the layer away, wrapping your hand around his base, and giving him a few jerks, feeling his pulse race through his cock.

“Tell me more about what you’re thinking my love.” You bit your bottom lip, fluttering your eyelashes up at him, only to reverberate a groan from the blonde male. He panted as your pace quickened, and he was almost certain that he was going to spray his jizz all over the floor if you did not uphold your sexual administrations. His head leant back, as pleasured sounds broke through the clenching of his teeth.

And then, it all stopped as a voice, dressed in absolute disgust, written over with unmotivated shock, interrupted your little exchange. “Really guys, this is a gym, not your damned bedroom. The two of you really are disgusting!” It was Alec, and he cringed at the fact that he had seen his best friend’s cock being stroked in your grasp. Yeah, he wasn’t going to be training today, or at least, not in the asserted place for it.

“Clary.” Izzy called her name, wearing a short lived smile. Whence she studied the expression of the redhead, she was quick to pay attention to the disappointment upon her face. There was confusion laddered in her skin, masking it with creased that made her look worried all at the same time. “What happened?” The Lightwood woman asked concerned, bracing a hand upon said girl’s shoulder.

“Jace snapped at me.” The newcomer informed her, frowning at the prospect, and then after all that, he had stormed off, as though she didn’t even matter. She felt well and truly rejected, like a newspaper that had been tossed in the street, and ending up in a horrible puddle. “I thought he might have liked me, but his attitude says otherwise.”

Izzy twitched her nose; she knew what day it was. There was no way to break it to Clary easy that Jace had no amorous emotions towards her, and so instead of being blunt with the new resident at the institute, she decided to tell the woman a story. “There was a girl...” she began, knowing that after all was explained, that Clary would understand.

[dboliklover]

Breathless Whispers - Shu

My new series. Will take a while to complete (don’t mind the fact I am STILL working on the Easter Smut series). It’s based off an ask I got and is very sinful and I implore everyone who is triggered by the following to NOT INTERACT WITH THIS SERIES. The tags will vary from each entry but “Breathless Whispers” is a SAKAMAKI BROTHERS X STEPMOTHER! READER Smut series. As such Cheating/Adultery and pseudo-incest/stepcest are always going to be included in the chapters. 

Tags for this chapter: Stepcest/pseudo-incest, cheating, NTR (Netorare) ((Karlheinz gets cucked)), dub-con (the reader believes she has feelings for Shu), dubiously-consensual implied impregnation, mentions of pregnancy, blood, and my out-of-practice smut writing skills that border on cringe, Happy sex (?) 

This is as vanilla as it’s gonna get for this series, methinks. Next chapter it’s Reiji’s turn. ;) Happy sinning ❤

WORD COUNT: 5.8K (11 pages)

___

In his life, Shu learnt to try to ignore meaningless things around him and to feel as precious little as possible - he didn’t need to feel, it added no enhancement to his life. To love was to have weakness and those he loved and cared for often ended tragically.

It was only natural that he chose to stick to himself and become a solitary creature after all that he’s been through, was it not? Solitude meant safety. Slowly but surely Shu cut as many emotions away with a metaphorical knife as he could, opting instead to be careless regarding all matters. He didn’t need anyone else, just himself. Only himself.

But there was one emotion that refused to leave, one emotion he would never allow the chance to withdraw from his heart - hatred. Pure, unadulterated loathing towards the man who caused his, his brothers’ and their mothers’ tragedies - Karlheinz. The hatred he felt was coated by a layer of would-be indifference - he knew better than to challenge the man, at least for the meanwhile - memories from the North Pole haunted him still. His father was a cruel, demanding man and Shu felt abhorrence, perhaps it did not reach the hatred felt by some other brothers but it was there and undying.

Karlheinz’s largest sin of all was the pain he caused his mother - the burdens he put onto him were a close second, however. But Beatrix’s suffering still wounded Shu to think about even after so many years had passed. The guilt instilled in him from that time flowed through his veins, unrelenting. His mother had her streaks of emotionally tormenting him but after all she merely wanted to prepare him for a difficult life ahead and Shu missed her presence as demanding as it was. And that was why when his father chose to re-marry yet again, Shu felt nothing but slight pity for the bride but regardless, he felt towards her as he did with most things; wholly indifferent. That was, of course, until he got to know the woman - he recalled the wedding day, it was a boring event and the fact his appearance had to be publicly seen bothered him for he’d much rather be doing anything but - still, he did as told and attended, albeit with minimal effort.

You made for a blushing bride, he couldn’t deny that. Glamorous appearance was hardly something he heeded though, and his father was known for choosing beautiful women as his wives - you knew nothing of the terrible fate that was bound to befall you in the coming months or years. At least all the other wives were long dead, namely Cordelia (whose torments only fed into the neglect his father served his mother, furthering her agonies) so you’d have no other competitors for Karlheinz’s horrid affections. He felt nothing for you, then. But unbeknownst to him, that detachment would not last forever and soon thereafter Karlheinz sent his bride away to live with his sons: what drove his father to such a foolish decision baffled Shu and he felt it somewhat of a ploy, another experiment to conduct. Maybe it was, but then again it only wasted time and energy to speculate on what went through Karlheinz’s mind. But you were their new stepmother, not one of their sacrificial brides; that was made clear, if unspoken. You were not their shared property but the property of the vampire king and it was to be respected, even if you had a puppet authority or no true power over them.

He avoided you at first, in his mind getting to know anyone was worthless;  and yet you persisted under the guise of ‘getting to know’ him and the others, wanting a relationship with your new stepsons. None of them really wanted a relationship with you, except for perhaps Reiji who hoped that you’d speak well of him to his father, ever-the-suckup.

You were a vampire of course, although it was surprising to learn that you were not a pureblood as they were. Karlheinz always made his decisions for a reason and he knew the reason for marrying you wasn’t love: therefore must’ve been something else entirely.

Karlheinz was incapable of love.

Gradually he found himself enjoying your attempted affections and voice - you figured out his disposition and chose to talk to him without expecting anything more than grunts and hums in return, knowing he preferred to listen to his music. Even he wasn’t sure at what point in your relationship he started to favour the sound of your melodious voice to his earphones, but it happened and he soon found himself turning down the volume as you spoke about your day if only to listen to your sweet voice far more vividly. He started to seek you out, something...unusual growing in his soul at the sight of you - he began appearing in places you were around the mansion, silently guarding you against the likes of the others (such as Laito). He liked being around you - a feeling he’d lost long ago ever since the “death” of Edgar - true companionship. But it couldn’t last perpetually, as nothing ever could, and those amicable feelings grew until they bloomed into something far darker than protectiveness towards his new stepmother and prospective friend - his heart yearned for you in the most unusual ways. It was troublesome for an overwhelming variety of reasons, primarily because he couldn’t have you. His romantic intentions soon turned to a subtle obsession. He needed to be close to you, always there - watching.

You’d always smile and greet him pleasantly, innocently - how on earth you could be so innocent after centuries’ worth of living on this earth, much less so after marrying Karlheinz, he had no clue. Your naivety and sweet nature brought him to you, made him fall into insanity because of you. It wasn’t instantaneous, things rarely were. Months went by but eventually he could no longer cope, his dreams were haunted by your form and always the exact same: you laid nude, breasts perfect and demure for him to corrupt, moaning out his name like the most delightful song from an ephemeral musical meant only for him. But when he awoke he was alone.

You tempted him without even knowing it but it was only a matter of time before it would come back to haunt you, he couldn’t be expected to have control over his instincts and needs forever and the time came when he finally snapped.

Stepmother or not, he was going to have you. In a way, it served as the most exquisite form of perceived vengeance towards that man - to steal his wife. He was hesitant about how to approach his desire to seduce you, such things were really more of Laito’s expertise, but he’d be damned if he failed to achieve his goals. You were too good for Karlheinz - a kindly thing to the point of intoxication and frustration, too pure for a vampire. He wanted to be the one to fully spoil your spirit, he wouldn’t permit his father to shatter your psyche as he did with all his previous wives. Shu was going to protect you, but in order to do that he first had to take you; claim you for himself. And that’s when he came across the most intriguing sight: your hushed moans of pleasure as your [slender/chubby/elegant] fingers stroked your glistening cunt in your private chambers - the same chambers which were supposed to be blessed in sacred matrimony if only his father hadn’t left you here all alone at the mercy of his ravenous sons. He must’ve assumed such a thing would happen sooner or later, hadn’t he? If not, then...well, Shu couldn’t help but think it his father’s loss from his own folly. “Shu.” Your angelic voice uttered his name - not his father’s, not your husband’s - but his. In your moment of unholy ecstasy, it was him on your mind; thoughts of him that edged you to your bliss. His obsessive passions were returned to him in kind, it seemed, and he couldn’t be more glad.

“Shu?” You questioned the following evening at dusk, that blossom-pink blush dusting your cheeks like an undead Aphrodite, tempting him further into his hidden lustful hunger, “Is...is everything okay? You’ve been staring at me all evening and I just wanted to ask if there’s something wrong-” He sighed, eyes half-lidded as if tired but it was his internal frustration revealed. “There is.” “Oh?” You pouted and fuck, he wanted to bruise your plump lips right there and then until they held his mark. “You really are more trouble than you’re worth,” It was a lie, of course, but he was a guarded man and his words reflected that. “Shu…? What do you mean?” The sadistic aspect of him was fuelled by the subtle distress in your eyes, however, you tried to remain calm, he’d said harsher things and you knew he scarcely ever meant them but something...something seemed so offbeat tonight. No, not just tonight - as of recently, but you couldn’t place a finger on the exact date when things began to change between you.

Your hands were down, pressed together as your thumbs nervously rubbed the other. You just wanted answers. “Heh,” He smirked, “You have no idea how alluring you are, do you?” His tired eyes stared earnestly into your soul and you felt stripped of your integrity. An innocent blush flooded your visage with lecherous embarrassment at such a sensual suggestion, sputtering out various syllables as you rushed to find your footing and speak out in protest of such an inappropriate topic between mother and son - that was what you were, related or not...you were his mother, even if merely by marriage. Guilt clogged your throat up as you thought of your own lust for your stepson, he was only slightly younger than you were and handsome beyond compare (as much as you loathed to admit it, your carnal self preferred Shu’s indescribable silent grace and steely blue eyes to the snowy tresses of his father) and disgust for yourself stung you deeper than a knife dipped in holy water - had he...witnessed your acts of depravity in your chambers? Did he know? “S-Shu, I...I don’t know what you mean,” You were drowning, unable to form proper words, “Don’t.” He cut you off before you could deny what you both knew at that moment. You weren’t as innocent and proper as you made yourself out to be. As you wished to be. No, you were a creature of tainted prurience and Shu was more than happy to play into your fantasies. You paled and nodded, if you were human your heart would’ve surely been palpitating by now. Fear wholly consumed you - would he be disgusted by you - no, he would’ve made that clear by now. Shu hid his thoughts and feelings from others but if he’d felt abhorrent disgust he wouldn’t have chosen to speak to you or indeed even be around you, you trusted that truth if nothing else. But then there was only one explanation for his demeanour, one that made you clench your thighs tight as you stood before him, a woman. He stood from his seat, no longer laying on the windowsill. “You’ve been a terrible wife,” Tears of crimson welled in your eyes while your knees felt weak but you nodded, ashamed. “Yes.” “And a filthy mother,” His harsh breath on your ear and neck made you whimper, “Y...yes,” You stuttered out with another whimpering moan, “Shu please don’t toy with me, I’m sorry I-” Without another sound escaping your painted lips you felt the amorous pressure of your stepson’s kiss, disclosing the intense emotions he returned for you. Your mind screamed at you for your sins and yet you were both inhuman creatures; Perpetuity of faithfulness was boresome and your husband had done little but ignore you and your hopes for a good life. Shu, however, had been there since the beginning of your marriage - even if you’d started out as nothing more than his father’s wife - now you were so much more, immensely more. Your knees buckled as you gave into the kiss, unable to avoid your feelings for him a second longer - you needed him just like this and he needed you too.

Human or not, the inherent wrongness burned your flesh and chest. You’d tried to be a good wife but your husband had practically abandoned you here with his sons bred for him by other women, he’d left you here and did little to even write to you. Loneliness was an obvious side-effect and it was only a matter of time before you would’ve fallen into another’s arms. But your debauchery brought you right into his son’s embrace. A terrible wife indeed.

Shu devoured your moans, swallowing your lust and increasing his own as his ample size grew in the confinements of his pants. “Fuck,” He huffed out as you pulled away from him, blinking. Your thighs burned with a need only he could satisfy. A shy hand wandered down his body towards his growing erection, stroking it from the fabric of his pants. Your efforts were rewarded by the sound of his deep groans. How long had it been since anyone touched you like this? Since you’d been able to make someone feel unutterable pleasure - since anyone made you feel wanted? You had slept with Karlheinz only a couple of times and he failed to sate your inner hunger as Shu was doing with only kisses and loving groans. “You’re playing with fire,” He breathed out, staring at you and sealing you in place. “I...know,” You swallowed thickly, “P-please, I...I need-” “What do you need, whore?” His teasing words of degradation made you feel alive, you were the object of his uttermost attention. His lips traced your neck, licking and gnawing but never piercing, fangs flying over the tender flesh. “You.” The certainty in your otherwise meek voice nearly made him burst right there. He was done restraining himself, pearly fangs sharper than needles pierced your neck as Shu drank the sweet nectar beneath. Your pleasured moans filled the hallways of the Sakamaki manor and he prayed his brothers could hear you wherever they were knowing that he won you. And he was going to keep you. You were going to no longer be just his stepmother - you would be his woman.

The blood, thick and plentiful, dripped down your neck. The droplets were not wasted as his tongue gathered them before they could drip onto the marble flooring. Shu was going to get addicted to this taste - your taste - he was sure of it. This was what you were made for; to belong to him. As he did this you toyed with his pants, unzipping them and releasing his erect cock from its prison, letting it spring free, wet with precum. “Oh fuck,” You whimpered at the sensation, pumping up and down his length. You wanted this, you wanted him so badly. You could feel yourself slowly dripping with clenched thighs. This was wrong - it was revolting - but you couldn’t stop the heat inside you, your inner desires. On your quest to befriend your sons you inadvertently ended up falling in love with one of them and never before had you longed to be held by someone as you did when you were with him.  

You wanted to be his, no one else’s. But you couldn’t be, for you already were a taken woman; despite the truth, you wanted to succumb to your immorality; to pretend that, for tonight alone, you were his.

Once he pulled away from your neck Shu chuckled lowly, “You’re such a lewd slut, mother.” You cringed at the name, reminding yourself of the positions between you two and, for a short-lived second, you attempted to pull away except the moment you did he caged in on you, back shoved against the wall with burning eyes glaring at you. “But you’re going to be my slut from now on.” his breath hitched as your hand movements sped up, blushing crimson from your wicked sensuality. You were loving this, in all its sinfulness. “Y-Yes,” You choked out submissively as you brought him to his edge, creamy cum coating your hand and sinking into the fabric of your dress, physically tainting you. It drove you wild.

The sight of you in front of him, dress dripping with his cum made him hard almost instantly as he ordered you to strip for him after he grabbed your arm and pulled you into the empty music room - he didn’t want to be interrupted by any of his bothersome brothers.

“Strip for me.”

You nodded and bit down harshly on your lip, droplets of blood still flowing from your neck at the open puncture wound, staining the white semen-soaked fabric as you unzipped the back and slowly released your hold on it as it fell down your form until you were exposed in only your undergarments, intimate and raw. This was incredibly embarrassing and yet, for him...you didn’t mind humiliating yourself. You were convinced of it, now: you were in love with him. Soft hands twirled around to unclip your bra, feeling as though it wasn’t merely your body which you were exposing to him but your very being as your breasts bounced free from the cups’ confinements, bra forgotten as you threw it down onto the floor, not caring about anything else but him. ‘Don’t do this’, your sanity pleaded but whatever morality may have existed in the cage of your heart was extinguished with a single gaze into his yearning eyes. If you didn’t do this the lack of his touch on your skin would surely drive you insane. You just wanted to be loved, cherished and used.

You were married - and although that sentiment alone should have been enough to snap you out of this sexual haze you were trapped in, it did little to sway your lust-filled judgement. Swallowing nervously your fingers dipped below the strips of your panties, sliding down your silky thighs, pride consumed you as you watched his subtle but intense reactions, the way his thick member twitched in anticipation made you feel powerful for the first time in your life. You couldn’t wait to feel him inside you. “Come here,” He growled, making you squeal as you nodded like a good little whore and fell onto your knees, crawling over to him - you felt like putting on a show for him, filled with risque concupiscence. If your husband was to ever find out you feared the consequences and despite the dangers, it drove you further into the arms of his eldest son to consider how taboo, how wrong such a union was. There was something unspokenly intimate about this. An intimacy from which you never wished to awaken. As soon as you were at his feet you admired his cock, glistening from residue cum in the moonlight. “Oh God,” You were about to cross a border from which you could never return and it turned you on profoundly to think about how your relationship would develop from here. Opening your mouth, you took his length inside your warmth, (e/c) eyes staring up at him like a sweet gazelle, pumping your head up and down and twisting your tongue around him as you sucked his member with a fierce determination to please. He believed this was the closest to heaven he would ever be; you, his personal fallen angel at his feet, his cock in your mouth.

Shu thought you were perfect just like this; doing all the work as you fucked your mouth on his cock, giving him your all as he sat back, eyes fluttering shut to focus on the pleasure you were providing. You were so good for him, such a pretty girl. Such an ideal woman, his woman. Further lewd commentary fell from his lips as he prompted you on. He wanted you on your knees for him each night, and you would be. He would make sure that things would stay this way forever now he was so close to having you all to himself. Even if it meant having to fight against his father, even if it meant the most intensive of efforts and having to use all the energy he had stored in his muscles - though he’d never utter it aloud, for you he would do anything.

Even if the only way to keep you would be to commit patricide. You were worth it. Just before his release, he pulled your head back by gripping your hair forcefully causing a pained yell to escape from you, your voice full of physical anguish that set off a primal need within his chest. “That’s enough.” He then lifted your chin to look him in the eyes, “Ride me.” You gulped back the juices in your mouth and shakily stood as your thighs were flooded with slick. “Y-Yes I…” You blushed vehemently as you aligned yourself with his cock, sucking in a sharp hiss as you felt the heat of it against your burning cunt. “I want you to make me yours.” Instantly you sat down, thighs clenched as your walls adjusted to the intrusion, making you cry out in ecstasy. Did you seriously almost orgasm simply from having his length inside of you? You couldn’t be blamed - not when your husband had neglected you. But it was going to be all better now that Shu was here to help you. Just as a good stepson should. “Fuck,” He gasped out quietly, breath falling from his chest. You were so fucking tight he could’ve potentially fooled himself into believing you were still virginal. That was, of course, until he reminded himself that his father stole that honour for himself and elicited underlying rage in Shu. With the buck of his hips he drove himself inside you as you cried out his name, holding tightly onto him, arms tied around his neck as you rode him, clumsily moving your hips and revealing your sexual inexperience to him; the knowledge that his father didn’t seem to take any time cherishing your body like this, lewd and sinful, eased him somewhat because it meant he could be the one to make you completely lose your mind and become his perfect little whore.

Maybe he’d even make you his wife, along the way.

His arms held your waist and he lazily guided the movement of your hips. You were insatiable, rapid. He could tell you wanted to go faster but his strong hands consistently ceased your attempts - he was going to force you to take your time, to truly feel the way his cock filled your insides, to ensure your walls would take the shape of his dick.

He wanted you to know that he was superior to his father, that no one could ever please you better. He never felt so attached to anyone prior to you, you did something to him. Something dark. Enchanting. And he was never going to let you go after this. By giving your body to him, you have given yourself in your totality.

Even if you didn’t know it quite yet, or didn’t fully apprehend the consequences sex with him would bring.

Your whines became far more desperate with each blunt thrust. Slow, steady but forceful; Shu’s cock reached into the deepest parts of you, lovingly rubbing your cunt. It was indisputable that he was focused on your enjoyment as much as he was on his - it wasn’t anything like what sex with Karlheinz was like, he was self-gratifying and solely cared about his own high, Shu (much to your surprise) paid attention to your smallest reactions to ensure this was as great for you as it was for him. His fingers delved below and started to mercilessly torment your clit, electricity flying through your spine and cunt clenching as more love juices were produced, soaking his cock and helping to lubricate the thrusts.

He wanted to show you how mindblowing sex with him could be, to show you he could love you in ways no one else ever could. In the eyes of his brothers, especially in Reiji and Ayato’s point-of-view, he was the one who got everything; the golden, careless heir. But they did not and would never understand that he had everything he didn’t want. His entire life the things he truly yearned for were stolen from him, his happiness, his innocence, his friends and beloved companions of human and animal kind; destroyed, ruined, killed. It reared his indifference to the material goods he possessed for they held absolutely no value of their own. And now there was you. You, you, you. Sakamaki Shu knew that, without a single shred of disbelief, he would happily give up all of this if it meant he got to keep you. All the wealth and grandeur and power that his position brought was worthless in comparison to his beloved whore whimpering above him as she impaled herself on his cock.

“S-Shu,” You moaned out into his ear, “Fa...faster, please,” You choked back spit as you made feeble attempts to catch your breath, the intense friction between your joined bodies making it difficult to think. It wasn’t as rough or primal as you initially thought it would be like, it was...better than that, intimate. Was this what they mean when they say sex can be ‘making love’? This closeness between bodies as they become one, the heat and passion in the air and bouncing breasts and thighs clasped around one’s lover? It wasn’t fucking - it was so much more. A proclamation of love, even, though you could never dare and utter that belief out loud. His self-satisfied comments, “Hm,” He playfully paused completely, making your eyes widen as you stared at him with desperation for him to continue, to let you reach your climax. Your nails scratched his back like a needy brat as you cried out pleas, “Please - please Shu, I need you to keep going I-” You swallowed thickly, blinking wildly as your core ached without movement and he kept your hips down, unable to fuck yourself on his dick regardless of how hard you tried. “Say you love me.” “W-What?” You gasped out, sweaty and needy but with enough common sense to know that saying something like that to him - even if it was true - would seal a secret deal between lovers, it would open all the nightmares of your very own Pandora’s Box.

But you loved him - you did, somewhere along the way you became enamoured by your stepson and now he was inside of you, fucking you with a tenderness that made you sure that he must love you, too. “I…” You smiled weakly, genuinely. You pulled back ever-so-slightly, (e/c) eyes sinking into his. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that he was finally permitting you to see; he trusted you with his heart, you could see that now. Your hand stroked his cheek, his hard dick still throbbing inside of you (you knew he wanted to keep going but held himself back, resolved to get what he wanted out of you). He melted into the caress, your hands were soft as angel feathers. “I am in love with you, Sakamaki Shu.” Despite the arousal that filled your mind you earnestly tried to convey the true depth of your affections for him and it seemed to awaken the beast of passion as he soon started to bounce you up and down his thick, throbbing member at a speed only vampires could achieve, determined to claim your womb for his own.

It wasn’t hard to notice your maternal longings, your desire to baby the boys despite their inherent aggression towards you all but proved it. And if was a baby you wanted, well...who was he to deny you of that right? His hushed grunts only sent you further into ecstasy - You had the power of feminine sexuality over him and it gave you somewhat of a power rush. It was paradise - not worthless fucking like animals - but true divinity here in his arms, where you felt appreciated and loved and as though you finally had a raison d’etre - You wanted to be his so badly it caused you physical anguish but you were his if only for the moment, connected to him so snugly. “I love you,” You sobbed out as tears welled in your eyes from the intense satisfaction and your own emotions coming to the surface, “I love you, I love you,” Each word sent Shu into a brand new dimension of rapture. You loved him, you loved him - more than anyone else in this world. If binding your bodies together didn’t officially make you his your whimpering confessions just did. The urge to impregnate you with his seed only grew with every passing moment as you mechanically moved in perfect timing to his thrusts, nails once again clawing at his flesh. “That’s a-” He inhaled sharply, stopping mid-moan, “That’s a good girl,” He breathed heavily, you felt so perfect on his dick, his personal cockslut, the love of his life, stepmother and soon; the mother of his children. “F-Fuck you’re going to look...fucking amazing,” He sighed out as he felt your fluttering walls try their hardest to milk him, “When you’re swollen with my troublesome brats, heh…” He could only smugly smile at your immediate reaction to the statement being to clunch down on him, tightening as if your womb was begging him to cum inside, to fertilise your pussy and breed you over and over. “Pregnant?” You exhaled out, teary-eyed as you locked your eyes with him, fucked out to the high heavens with sweat causing your hair to stick to your reddened forehead and lipstick smudged with perky, puffed lips. “Yo-You want to get me pregnant…?” The timidity of your voice betrayed your excitement. Logically you wanted to escape, to push him away and scold him for even suggesting such a thing - you couldn’t become pregnant with his child! It was atrocious enough that you were currently having this affair with him, your stepson, but to be bred by him was in a category all of its own - truly disgusting.

No matter how much your husband neglected you he didn’t deserve to for his wife to not only cheat on him with his own son but to be inseminated by him - but the inner beast within you was wanton, a silent whisper in your mind that tried to persuade you to surrender fully to your hopes for motherhood, to allow this man in front of you, this beautiful vampiric prince, to fill you with his seed and claim you as his bitch, his bride; to be stolen from the man you originally wed and live your eternity as Shu’s whore. “I-...we can’t, Shu! We-” Morals renewed, you tried to get through to him, “Please-” “Shut up.” He ordered and you instantly did as told, being the good girl that you were. “Don’t lie to me. You’re loving the-” He moaned, “-idea of...of my children growing inside of you. I felt you tighten up at the notion, you’re such a fucking lewd woman. My lewd slut.” You hated yourself because you knew he was right; it was true. You wanted this so badly, to give birth to his kin, to feel your uterus painted white with his cum. Primal needs craved relief. “No, we...we can’t, I...don’t…” You choked on your words as he kissed you roughly, his thumb on your clit twirling and pulling until you were unable to form anything more coherent than mindless stutters. “S-Shu! Fuck, fuck, fuck I...I...I love you! I do! I do, please I just...I want-” “What do you want, pretty whore?” “...I want, I w….want your cum! I need it, I need you to fill me up and get me pregnant!” The last remainder of your will crumbled under the pressure of your sudden orgasm. ‘I’m so sorry, Karl…’ you thought bitterly as amazement overtook you, making you screech in the midst of the night in the moonlight, squeezing the lifeforce out of your stepson’s dick. Shu groaned and laughed in dark victory as you came undone around him, biting into his neck instinctively mid-orgasm. The sharp sensation was enough to push him completely over the edge.

Your tongue lapped over his neck, sipping the blood that flowed with delicious fervour as the heat of his semen poured into your deepest depths, coating your womb with his lust. Once you pulled away you felt almost faint from the intensity of your love-making, concupiscence fading as the realisation of what you just did hit you in full force, causing your eyes to open. “Shu..oh fuck, I...we...just--” You squealed and tried to hop off but he kept your hips forced down, still inside your leaking cunt despite slowly growing soft. “No.” Shu was serious, now, eyes grave. “You’re not running away. You,” He exhaled, bringing your lips closer to his, “Are mine.” “Shu-” The distance between your lips was closed as he fought with your tongue. Your heart yearned to return his kiss and despite the inner war ongoing within your soul you did, tongues dancing in the warmth of your mouth. When he pulled away he smiled.

And you felt yourself smile too, hand travelling to the spot below your stomach but above your cunt. “You’re mine now, troublesome woman.” You laughed, nodding and kissed him again. The conflict within you wouldn’t fade, and you were terrified of what might happen now to yourself and to Shu. But maybe it won’t be that bad. It was only one time - you can surely find some form of birth control to ingest before the next time, and he’d never have to know. It was...one time, so you shouldn’t get pregnant this time...right?

Somehow you felt proud - proud to have his cum flowing from your core, to know it’s his seed that potentially is currently fertilising you and not your husband’s. You did feel authentically guilty but the guilt made you more aroused. Karlheinz didn’t deserve...this and despite that here you were, and the worst part was you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop anytime soon, there was no point in vowing to yourself that this would be the ‘last time’ because you knew that the moment he came inside you you were already addicted to him. The child of your lover...realistically it was an awful, unspeakable idea but a sense within you wanted to go through with it, to allow yourself fertility, to fully become his.

Little did you know you would have no choice in the matter.

[undertale-data]

[Image description: An Undertale chatbox with the name “Asgore” in the middle in uppercase, between two of his talksprites. The left one is smiling, with his brows lifted in surprise and an open mouth; the one on the right shows him smiling, too, but this time his mouth is closed. End of ID]

Asgore, the king of all monsters, sure is an interesting character. As we move on our journey as Frisk, we receive different opinions of him, both positive and negative. Now we will talk about what his fans have to say about him. He received a total of 73 votes, representing 2.8% of answers.

Asgore’s complex role in the story of Undertale is one of the aspects appreciated by his fans. Many have pointed out that Asgore is seen as an antagonist, but his soft attitude and kindness subverts their expectations of him. He is described as tragic, as a leader, as a kind man, and someone who’s made big mistakes. All of these elements help to make him an interesting character.

Now we will break down those layers, based on people’s answers:

Some of the responders manifested a desire for his character to be more appreciated. With statements like “he deserves more love/he is misunderstood.” A few manifested that they believe he gets a lot of hate in the fandom because of his actions. Therefore, they show their preference to Asgore as someone who deserved a better treatment, either by the game itself or by the fandom.

Many people praise his sense of responsibility and his wish to keep monsterkind hopeful by being a leader. “He was determined to find a way to help his people,” “He understands what he has to do and he shows signs of being upset about it.” It is important to mention that statements like this were often followed by highlighting how much of a burden said responsibility is. In other words, Asgore has a duty as a king and people believe he did his best for his people, even if many disapprove of the means Asgore used to obtain his goals. Many of his fans state that the weight he feels because of it makes him their favorite character.

The tragedy of the Dreemurr family is also mentioned in many responses. People lament what he has gone through, and the effect it had on him. He is described as someone who lost his family, but despite everything tried his best not to let people lose hope. His story is touching, and this is an aspect that has made people love this character.

Another group of people addressed Asgore’s appeal by highlighting his virtues and positive qualities. Many call him “soft”, “gentle” or “kind”. These comments are linked to the people that sympathize with him or who recognize the multiple layers of his character. Other people even state that they find him attractive or show interest in him as an ideal partner.

In short, Asgore “big soft goat dad” Dreemurr is loved for his complexity as a character, his tragedy, sense of responsibility and his many virtues. While his actions were not approved by many, people are able to sympathize with him and his story.

Highlights: (under the cut)

Asgore strikes me as someone who did what he believed was right when forced into a horrible situation. He was wrong, but it’s understandable how he could have come to believe that what he was doing was the only way forward. I feel like he gets ignored by most of the fandom compared to the rest of the cast and this disappoints me.

Big soft goat dad. Comfort man.

I just saw how under-appreciated he was. He has a pretty complex character and an interesting dynamic. I love the themes of loss, duty, and regret. He was referenced so many different ways that you didn't know what to expect when you actually met him. It took me a long time to realize how interesting he was, and I can't say he's the best character, but he's my personal favorite.

He was determined to find a way to help his people, and his overall story is just sad. Also he's a gentle goat dad so that's also something.

[Excerpt, read the full answer in the document.] I love him...he's built up so much throughout the game, in so many contradictory ways, long before you ever meet him. Initially, you probably go into the final area thinking he'll just be a standard boss encounter. [...], you expect that Asgore will still be vengeful and angry towards you, but I at least didn't blame him at all - how could I, after everything that happened? Even after an unprovoked war and their long, cruel imprisonment, Asgore was kind and forgiving enough to adopt a human child as his own. Sure, he finally snapped after the humans ALSO murdered his children, but how could anyone blame him for being angry after THAT? How long can anyone be expected to just lay down and take whatever their oppressors throw at them without trying to stand up and fight back? What do you do when you're only ever met with relentless violence? I could afford to die and come back as many times as it took to find a peaceful resolution, but that was because I could reset - other people didn't have that luxury.

[Image description: A wordcloud in the shape of Asgore’s smiling talksprite. His face and horns are colored white while his hair and crown are yellow. Some of the most visible words are: Asgore, Dad, Kill, King, Feel, Kind, Want, Big, Guy, and Love, which represent the most common words in the essays people wrote about him. End of ID]

Read the complete listed of responses shared with permisssion by clicking this link.

[tellerluna-stories]

ii. rex lapis

The sands of time shifted once more, and now Rex Lapis ruled over Liyue. His land overflowed with wealth, and all who passed through Liyue saw their businesses prosper. The people who now walked the paved streets of Liyue had happily never known the tragedies of war, and they lived out their lives in blissful ignorance.

Within the Golden House, Rex Lapis paced around restlessly. His horns and claws were nowhere to be seen, as Liyue had no need for such instruments of war. The simple white robes he had donned for battle had been replaced with layers of multicoloured ceremonial robes and intricate headdresses that only the finest artisans could craft.

With these robes came great honour and responsibility, a reminder that the fate of Liyue rested solely upon the shoulders of Rex Lapis. Though they were made of mere fabric, at times Rex Lapis felt that they weighed heavier than chains of pure gold.

He sighed and fiddled with his sleeves— though he was, in fact, the reason mora existed in the very first place, he had to admit he was tired of seeing the same golden shimmer that surrounded him everywhere he looked.

“My lord.”

Without even turning around, he replied, “I told you not to be so formal with me.”

“Alright, alright.” You smiled and spread your hands disarmingly. “Thousands of years, but you’re still as legalistic as ever.”

Unlike Rex Lapis, you had not chosen to change too much about yourself in the years following the Archon War, whether in appearance or personality. It somewhat brought him comfort knowing that in a world that was constantly changing too fast for him to keep up, there was still one person who could keep him anchored; no matter what era you were in, you could always quickly adjust to the practices and customs around you without forcing yourself to mold to them.

“Thousands of years, and I still need to remind you that titles are unnecessary, my friend.”

“Ah, but the question is: am I genuinely forgetting to drop them, or do I keep using them just to irk you?”

He turned around, face carefully devoid of any emotion. “My friend, do you happen to fear the wrath of the Rock?”

He watched in satisfaction as the smug look on your face quickly morphed into one of fearful respect. “As a matter of fact I do, so let’s change the topic. Your robes are simply majestic, my— I mean, Rex Lapis!”

“Do you not have one just like this?” Rex Lapis looked down at his embellished sleeves— the people of Liyue had gifted both of you with ceremonial robes, but he had yet to see you wear them. “If I recall, yours had the phoenix embroidered on the front.”

“Oh yes, I still have it with me.” You bent over and inspected the nearest pile of mora, brushing the golden coins with your fingertips. “I don’t wear it much since it restricts my movements, but maybe I will if there’s a special occasion.”

“I would like to see you wear it someday, if you choose to. You’d look absolutely stunning.”

He waited for some witty comeback, the usual jokes you’d make in response to his compliments— but you remained oddly silent, hunched over the little pile of mora like a bird guarding its nest.

“My friend...?”

Gently, he placed a hand on your shoulder, unknowingly sending an electric current running through your veins.

“Ah, yes, yes! I was just, uh—“ Hurriedly, you jumped to your feet and dusted your hands off on your clothes. “I was just trying to remember where my robe was, that’s all. I stored it away but I don’t exactly remember where— you know how it is, right?”

Yes, you had just forgotten where you had last put that phoenix robe, as though you still didn’t clean it and carefully air it out at least once a month. That robe was one of the few things you treasured dearly, as it was a gift from the people you watched over... and perhaps also because it was a gift that matched with his.

The heat rushing to your face and the quickening of your heartbeat upon hearing him say you’d look stunning— that was out of pure embarrassment, nothing more. He only meant it out of kindness, now, don’t misinterpret his words.

Clearing your throat hastily, you tried to change the subject. “Did you know that there’s a full moon tonight?”

“Is there, now?” He tilted his head to the side; a somewhat endearing habit of his, left over from when he had horns. “I have not left this place in quite some time; the people of Liyue are a little too concerned for my safety to let me venture outside often.”

“They haven’t....?”

But Rex Lapis merely smiled in reply, dismissing the matter with a wave of his hand. “It’s only natural for young people to be overprotective of the ones who take care of them. I’m sure they would do the same for you if you just let them, my friend.”

“You sounded very old when you said that, my lord.”

“Pardon?”

“I said your words shone like gold when you said that, my lord.”

He narrowed his eyes skeptically, but you only returned his gaze with a look of pure, angelic innocence. There was no way he could say anything against you, especially not with that look on your face.

“My lord,” You said, with that innocent look still plastered on your face. “Given that you haven’t gone outside in a while, what say you to accompanying one such as myself on an outing this fine evening?”

“An outing, you say?” He put a hand to his chin and pretended to contemplate the idea, silently observing as your eyes lit up with poorly-hidden anticipation. “Where would one go at this hour? It would cause quite a stir if Rex Lapis were to suddenly disappear from his position, with no reasonable explanation.”

To that you raised a finger upwards in reply, pointing to the cavernous roof of the Golden House.

“Technically, you wouldn’t be leaving.” Holding out your hand to him, you smiled and said, “Shall we watch the stars together, then?”

———

“This is incredibly reckless.”

“It’s also incredibly exciting, don’t you think?”

Barely-suppressed laughter bubbled up into your throat as you looked at the great Rex Lapis, who had awkwardly bunched up his robes around his knees. There was no way he could climb to the top of the roof without either damaging his (very costly, one-of-a-kind) robe, or getting him tangled into a mummy wrapping of fine silk.

“Your laughter does not go unnoticed, by the way.” He said, glowing amber eyes trained on the vast ascent of roof tiles before him. “Since this was your idea, how about you think of a solution to this problem?”

The cool night breeze whistled in your ears like a distant flute, and he shivered slightly; it was best to think of a solution quickly, lest Liyue be in uproar over the dignified Rex Lapis catching a mere cold.

You squinted at the rooftop, trying to analyse the best way to scale it with as little collateral damage to your superior as possible. It was certainly possible, especially with your talents as an adeptus (and also because your position did not require such cumbersome clothing), but there would have to be some rather... unusual measures taken.

“Do you trust me?”

He blinked in confusion. “What strange sort of question is—“

Before he could finish, you lifted him off the ground as though you were carrying a princess.

“Hold on tight, my lord.” You whispered, your lips only a few breaths away from his ear. “It may be a little bit unstable.”

He barely had time to wrap his arms around your neck as you leapt into the air, nimbly bounding off the golden tiles like a deer.

What exactly was this situation he was in? Moreover, what was this odd sensation swelling in his heart?

“Mind your sleeves, Rex- I mean, my lord!” You huffed. “I can’t see where I’m stepping if you decide to obscure my sight, which isn’t exactly the best choice for you right now.”

With one final jump, you landed safely on the topmost roof of the Golden House. He could only stare at you blankly as he tried to process what had just happened in the past few minutes— however, you caught onto his stare too easily.

“What, are you surprised that I was able to pull that off?” Shaking your head vigorously to remove the flyaway hair from your eyes, you frowned at him in a jesting manner. “Don’t tell me you’ve been underestimating my abilities this whole time, my lord.”

“No.” He replied immediately. “I would never.”

“That’s what I thought.” With a nod of satisfaction, you gently set him down onto the roof. “Here is the moon and stars for you, as promised.”

Rex Lapis raised his eyes to the sky that he had not seen in some time, and the heavens did not disappoint.

Overhead, the galaxy stretched out in a rich tapestry of hues, stars interwoven in between the threads like beads of precious stones. A full moon hung in the sky, a pearl of great price that took all the beauty that surrounded it and unified it into a beautiful symphony of colours.

For the first time in a while, he felt free— up here with you by his side, there were no such things as duty and responsibility. There were only the two of you in this quiet, peaceful place, with the heavens above as your only witness.

“A lovely night, don’t you think?” You grinned and put your hands on your hips, the wind toying with your hair ever so slightly. “The minute I saw this, I knew you simply couldn’t miss it; not in a thousand years.”

His gaze lingered on the picture of you bathed in a soft halo of moonlight, smiling dreamily at the stars above. “...Very lovely, indeed.”

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Jolting suddenly, you fumbled as you brought out a brass bottle and a pair of teacups from seemingly thin air. “I figured it would be cold out, so I prepared something, just in case.” You gestured for him to sit. “Have a seat while you’re waiting— can’t have the ruler of Liyue standing around waiting for me to serve him, can I?”

“Your judgement is as impeccable as ever, my friend. Whatever would I do without you?”

You rolled your eyes as you began to unscrew the cap of the bottle. “Such flattery is unnecessary. We both know that you could manage Liyue just as well if you were on your own.”

“That doesn’t mean I would want to.” He hesitated, unsure if what he would say next would make you uneasy. “You have done more for me and for Liyue than you could possibly imagine, and I... I sincerely wish for you to know that. You have just as an important role in Liyue as I do, and this place would not be what it is today without you.”

Pausing in what you were doing, you slowly raised your eyes to meet his— there was nothing but pure sincerity in his eyes and words. He truly meant what he was saying, and the way he worded it made your heart- no, no, this wasn’t the time for that.

“...Thank you, Rex Lapis. Those words mean a lot to me, especially coming from you.”

“Do my ears deceive me?” He put a hand to his mouth in mock disbelief. “Say that once more, my friend, I do not think I heard you well the first time.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” You glared at him. “It seems that your age is showing, my lord. Perhaps I should carry you back inside, if your age has really advanced so rapidly.“

“You called me Rex Lapis, for once. This is a day that this aged man shall remember for the rest of his life, and shall be inscribed into the history of Liyue as a momentous occasion—“

“The tea will grow cold long before your long-winded speech finishes, my lord. How about you drink first and talk later?”

Rex Lapis gave you an unimpressed stare. “Perhaps if you cease calling me ‘my lord’, I will think the matter over. When did you learn to brew tea, by the way?”

You returned his stare with one equally matched in unimpressed energy. “Over the years, I’ve found that the art of tea-brewing helped greatly in calming myself, and so I’ve been practicing ever since. Your cup, please— my lord.”

He rolled his eyes at your smug face and held out his cup.

A faint wisp of steam curled from the bottle as the dark liquid trickled into his teacup, along with some unknown plant matter. His thoughts must’ve shown clearly upon his face, for you burst out laughing upon seeing it. “It’s not poison, for Celestia’s sake! If I were planning to assassinate you, I would’ve done it eons ago.”

“And how is that meant to bring me any reassurance?”

“Oh, it wasn’t intended to.” You poured a cup for yourself and downed a sip of your concoction. “But no assassin would be fool enough to drink the poison intended for their target... except for me, possibly. Drink up!”

Rex Lapis still eyed the teacup in his hands suspiciously— but then again, you had never given any reason for him to doubt you, so why should he start now?

“So, is it good?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the unique flavours on his tongue. “If I could, I would drink the tea you make everyday for the rest of eternity.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words; you choked, nearly sending the bottle of tea tumbling off of the roof. “Ah- er, well—“

“What, is that too humble of praise for it? I mean it from the bottom of my heart.”

“No, it’s just- well, it sounds like a phrase I’ve heard among the merchants of Inazuma— oh, never mind. I’m glad you like it.”

“What did you put in it to make it taste so exquisite?”

Leaning closer to him, you whispered, “Petals of peach blossom and glaze lily flowers. Along with some other choice ingredients, but what truly gives it that taste and aroma is the flowers.”

Your face was close, closer than he ever even dreamed to approach in a million years; in the pale moonlight, your eyes glittered brighter than any jewel the earth could give. Any dragon would covet such a treasure and guard it with their very life.

How had he not noticed how mesmerizing your eyes were till tonight?

“Absolutely fascinating,” He murmured, before belatedly realizing he said it aloud.

“Isn’t it?” You hummed in agreement. “It’s my special brew. I experimented on it until I could perfectly balance the flavours to my liking.” Your gaze swiveled to the elaborate water gardens sprawled in front of the Golden House. “Do you want me to plant a peach tree and some glaze lilies by the front of the gate? I could do that, if you really do enjoy my tea that much.”

A mix of relief and disappointment washed over him; you hadn’t realised he wasn’t talking about the flowers.

He mused over the idea— it didn’t seem so bad, after all, but...

“I’d like to plant them somewhere more.... permanent. Somewhere we can watch them grow together.”

“Say the word, and your wish is my command.” You beamed at him. “Just tell me when and where, and I’ll have them in full bloom for you in no time, no matter the season.”

A warm, fluttering feeling filled his chest, and Rex Lapis suddenly found it harder to breathe than before. His face felt oddly warm, while his hands were cold— was it a result of the night air? He wasn’t that old yet.

Anxious to change the topic before you cracked another joke about his age, he quickly asked, “How are the affairs of Liyue doing, my friend?”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “The trade routes are thriving splendidly. Many merchants from the other regions come to seek permission to transport goods to and from their lands, so I’ve been handling most of their affairs. Even picked up some of their languages while at it.” A mischievous smile spread across your face as you said, “Tu ne me comprends pas, non? Je t’aimerai pour toujours et à jamais, mon amour.”

“Impressive.” He hadn’t understood a word of what you had said, but he was almost dead certain that you were poking fun at him. “It is good to see that Liyue is in such capable hands. What about the—“

“—the adepti? Oh, they’re all doing quite well, I believe. They don’t really leave their abodes anymore, save for Madame Ping and young Ganyu.”

“How about—“

“Xiao? I visit him every now and then, to make sure he eats well and is doing alright. And yes, I bring him the painkillers you have specially made for him.” You paused. “He sends his greetings, and it is very obvious that that boy misses you, even if he won’t admit it himself.”

Rex Lapis breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. “You really do know what I’m going to say, even before I say it.”

“What can I say? Even before you need to ask, you can consider it already done.” A chuckle escaped your lips as you scuffed the sole of your shoe against the roof tiles. “That’s why I’m here, after all. Who better than I to carry out the word of Rex Lapis?”

“You had best watch yourself there, my friend, lest your head grows too big for your shoulders.”

“Oh, but my lord, who was the one who gave me this position?” Propping your chin on your steepled fingers, you give him a smug look. “I seem to recall a certain someone appointing me as his right-hand, after all.”

“What has been given can just as swiftly be taken away.”

“You’re no fun.” You stuck your tongue out at him and turned away, pointedly staring at the moon.

“So, what is the real reason you brought me up here?”

In an instant your head whipped back to meet his gaze, eyes wide and mouth agape. “How did you—“

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a lopsided grin, and now it was his turn to look smug. “You’re not the only one who can practically read minds, my friend. The facade you put up is better crafted than mine, but I can still see right through you.”

“Well...” You fell silent for a moment, fingers tracing along the sides of the brass bottle and etching invisible patterns into the metal with your fingernails. “I wanted to ask how you were doing.”

Rex Lapis tilted his head slightly, confusion and curiosity melding into one feeling. “How I was doing?”

“I struggle sometimes... with the memories of those who have passed on. Sometimes, in the heat of the moment I forget; I get distracted or actually feel happy, but then I suddenly think of them, and I wonder if I actually have the right to enjoy myself.”

Shifting slightly, your expression was unreadable in the pale moonlight. “But lately, their faces have become blurry, and I get scared when I can’t remember what they look like. It’s the least I can do for my comrades, since I’m the only one left.” You pursed your lips. “Do you have the same problem?”

The somber look on your face stirred up the remorse that still gnawed at his heart, even after all these centuries. You had been suffering alone because of his mistakes, and it pained Rex Lapis even more knowing that no contract he wrote could remedy the empty gap in your heart. All he could do was sit with you and be something you could anchor yourself to, just the way you had been a steadfast rock to him.

He shifted to sit closer to you, no longer caring whether his robes would be dirtied or not. “Not quite the same problem.”

“...Oh.”

“Like you, even after so many years I still cannot help but think of them. Every detail of their lives, their voices and faces— I remember it all.” Rex Lapis looked up to the stars, where perhaps the constellations of your friends lay, and laughed dryly. “Mortal men have been blessed with forgetfulness, but it seems that I have been cursed to remember.”

Tentatively, he raised a hand to gently pat you on the head, just the way his caregiver used to when he was feeling out of sorts or upset. “But worry not, my friend. If what you worry about is forgetting, then I will be the one to remember everything for you.”

“You needn’t worry about me forgetting you, by the way.” You said quietly. “Even if I forget everything else in this world, I know that I’ll always remember you, no matter what form you take.”

The strange, fluttering feeling in his chest returned, coursing through his veins and flowing through his fingertips— subconsciously he pulled his hand away, fearing that those feelings would somehow reach you.

It’s merely the chill of the night air, he told himself.

You said nothing as he pulled away, but Rex Lapis found himself wishing you would say something, anything; complain, or make a joke out of it, or perhaps even ask him to do it again— no, he couldn’t dare dream of that.

Not for your sake.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” You said suddenly, breaking the silence and the maze of thoughts his mind was trapped in.

Rex Lapis looked to the moon over Liyue Harbor, admiring the way it bathed the city in silver light. Though Liyue in the daytime was loud, filled with many colours and sounds that overwhelmed the senses, this version of Liyue was also beautiful to behold.

Perhaps... perhaps this is what she meant by living treasure, he thought to himself.

Caring for this city of people, nurturing them and building a better future for them and the future generations— that was certainly something close to his heart. It didn’t feel exactly like the living treasure he had expected, but as long as you were there to watch over Liyue with him, then perhaps... perhaps it would grow on him as time passed.

“Yes,” he agreed. “It truly is.”

But that evening, he failed to notice that you weren’t looking at the moon.

[konako]

It might just be me but there is not nearly enough conversation about that werewolf hunter guy that kidnapped Snow in the episode "Heartless" in season 6. "Must be the Woodcutter. A bounty hunter who usually specializes in hunting down werewolves," says Snow.

It's not just you, my dude. It's.... It's true. We are overlooking this. Because... Look. I recognize canon has made a decision, but given that it's a stupid-ass decision, I've elected to ignore it.

It’s too much to even attempt to—

There’s so much wrong with that.

To have— To have Blue— BLUE— OF ALL PEOPLE—

Deep breath in, now...

THE FUCKING BLUE FAIRY?!!! REALLY? Really? Oh really?!!!

Hmmmmmm!!!!

Look. Full transparency: I haven’t watched a single episode of season 6 or season 7 (though I’m told the last one is not as bad). I was barely conscious during season 5, only holding on to the promise of seeing Ruby again. I was entirely checked out after 5x18. 

I’ve just watched that episode. Just the scene with the Woodcutter. Just so I can understand what’s going on and, seriously?

Taking a step back out of the universe and looking at the writing objectively, as a consumer?

You can tell it was not supposed to be Blue there. She’s painfully out of place (and time) there. She’s not Snow White’s fighting buddy. She’s never been. She’s the shady one. Blue was not the one for that place by Snow’s side. It was the other color.

But Meghan wasn’t available to bring in Red for this storyline — Which is a shame, because that would have been a juicy storyline for her. But I get it, she was done with the show, the show was done with her. It actually pains me, that it was the case.

It’s a tragedy for the story.

It truly is a great loss. We missed out on having Red Snow (first of all, an excellent dynamic that could have made for thousand more fascinating storylines!) facing, for a brief moment, A Werewolf Hunter. 

Sit on that for a second. Red Snow vs. A Werewolf Hunter.

Think of the potential there!! The expansion of the world! The depth of that story, the many possibilities to be explored for Red Snow pre-curse, pre-Charming. The weight it would have added to Ruby’s past, present and future and for Snow’s character by association! What a great way to evolve her angst into something even bigger!! Wow. 

(But this is OUAT and, by season 6, we had learned that having potential is not a guarantee for a good thing. Sometimes, it’s quite the opposite).

It is truly sad. My grumpy entitled little inner child feels cheated, robbed of a great thing. 

But my adult brains knows better. OUAT has always had great pieces, but often couldn’t put them together (or keep them together for long).

That’s a deception I have to live with, thoughts and prayers for me please.

What I don’t understand is: (two things, real quick, as brief as I can be)

1) Why make it explicitly a Werewolf Hunter, if the implications of that wouldn’t be explored further?

I mean, before I get into why I’m bitter about it, let me be clear: thank you! Honestly, thank you for that! I’m grateful. I’m not even kidding! That’s precious and I appreciate it, thank you for that addition! My headcanon was starved and I needed that!

Because now I know that hunters specialized in werewolves are a thing in the Enchanted Forest (and maybe beyond) and that’s another rant on its own (you can hold me to that). File that in the special folder in my headcanon drawer, Jessica.

That’s an excellent detail to introduce, so the story has yet another layer and can (could 💔) later branch out into interesting confrontations, character relations and dynamics. That’s good!

But... it went nowhere. Not only it wouldn’t be explored further and the one werewolf we know and care about wasn’t there to react to it, but the next best thing: The Werewolf’s BFF had no particular reaction to this.

This is a man that specializes in HUNTING WEREWOLVES FOR A LIVING. He has a nickname, he’s known for it, so we’re to assume he’s good at it, has been doing this a while, has a decent reputation and people call him when needed.

The existence of this character implies that there are people weaponizing silver, studying werewolves and their patterns, learning to recognize them in human form to better kill them, finding ways to imprison them and/or selling them off to buyers with nefarious intentions. Does that mean there is a market for werewolves? For silver weapons? Are there people teaching others in the art of killing a werewolf? (I COULD GO ON!!!) 

Not only that, but SNOW WHITE acknowledging The Woodcutter and taking the time to explain it to Blue means that at least she’s (THEY, and by THEY, I mean RED SNOW OF COURSE!!!) ran into him (or hunters like him) before.

What does that mean for Red Snow as a friendship, as An Outcast Partnering With A Fugitive? How does Snow feel about it? Surely she would outlaw that practice, once she’s Queen. And, most importantly, what about Red? What kind of impact does it have on her life, her self-image and self-esteem? On the way she interacts with people, with the world, on the people she decides to trust with her secret or not. (FOLKS WEREN’T EXACLTY UNDERSTANDING) How does she cope with that? (I COULD GO ON!!! 2)

ALSO (AND THIS IS ME BEING BRIEF, MIND YOU!!) 

2) WHERE THE FUCK IS RED!?!!

“There’s nothing holding me here”, said Snow. 

BUT EXCUSE ME? What the fuck. Where is Red. Where is RED?? (I know where Meghan is, but here is RED?) That’s the question that OUAT has never attempted to answer: Where is Red, while this is happening? 

It’s one thing for them (RED SNOW!!!) to part ways after Snow meets Charming and gets into fighting Regina and all that. But here?! She knows Blue already, she’s not yet met Charming, I’m guessing. So, in this moment in the timeline, WHERE IS RED?!??? What the hell is she doing? Is she in hiding because of the werewolf hunters? Could be! I don’t know!! 

Snow could throw an axe like that, so I’m guessing she’s had some fighting training (first with Red, then with the dwarves I guess), she’s selling stuff, she’s thinking ahead, still in hiding, she’s smart and she’s fast making decisions, so she’s been at it for a while, she’s not the young naive Snow we met during Red Handed. She’s a bit hardened already: SHE’S MAKING PLANS TO LEAVE. ALONE. 

What about the cabin in the woods? WHAT CHANGED? WHY IS SNOW PLANNING ON LIVING THE KINGDOM? ALONE? WHERE IS HER GODDAMN FRIEND?

Deep breath out....

[mego42]

I know it’s the writers fault, and I feel like this season rio is a different person than seasons 1,2 and even 3. But if I ignore my opinions on the writers and the odd choices they’ve made for him, and just watch the show as a normal viewer, rio is fucking pissing me off. Like all he had to do was tell Beth she was being followed. He made the mess. And he’s such a dick. Like at this point kill her or don’t. But this whole “Rio can’t hurt Beth/rio has love for her/brio love triangle” thing? Like nah I’m not seeing it. He’s being literally stupid for no reason.

i'm v sorry he's pissing you off and you’re super entitled to feel that way! but tbh, personally i don't totally agree that he's different or that he's being stupid for no reason (though, if you're not buying into the idea that he's genuinely into beth than yeah, i can v much see why you would feel that way, i think that's a p significant puzzle piece). 

imo, the primary difference between the rio of s4 and the rio of previous seasons isn't in the character, but how much more context/insight/backstory we're getting for him. we’ve seen bits and pieces before, but they’ve been very sporadic (something that’s been a p consistent complaint since i joined the fandom) and i think s4 has really dug into shading rio’s character and backstory in with much more detail and depth than we’ve seen so far. i also think the show's p steadily developed the idea that he has some degree of genuine feeling for beth (and that they make him act rashly and stupidly) along the same pace.

putting the rest of this below the cut bc it got long and should you continue, do so with the caveat that i’m not here to change anyone’s mind, i’m just breaking down why i disagree.

in s1, rio was a p one-dimensional character (like, on paper he's basically a walking first page google search result for "mexican gang banger stereotypes") and it's a testament to how much manny brought to his performance and the way he sparks with his scene partners (particularly christina and jim) that he came across so engagingly and elevated the character far enough that people so easily overlook that. over the course of s2, they peeled back the curtain a little bit and rounded him out more in ways that (imo and ymmv) really efficiently counteracted that stereotypical portrayal like introducing marcus, being softer with beth, and the different faceted glimpses of him we saw through his personal and business spaces (the club, his loft and bar). in terms of his feelings, while a lot of the softness with beth was him working an angle, we still caught glimpses that hinted at something real developing in his reactions to her that either served no purpose for keeping her in line (the way the camera lingered on his face falling in 209 after beth had turned away and couldn't see him) or, most significantly imo, doing things for her that actively undermined his authority (retrieving!!!!!!!! the!!!!!!!!!! dubby!!!!!!!!!!!!).

and speaking of 209, we also saw him react in increasingly more irrational and outlandish ways (ignoring her calls/texts about the fbi closing in on a business he’s somewhat tied up in, sending her body parts in the mail, kidnapping her) in reaction to beth quitting him, underscoring both the idea that 209 (and beth) meant something to him and that he gets real dramatic and questionably intelligent when he’s in his feelings. 

there's nothing to really say any of this was a swerve from s1 bc s1 left p much everything on the table. s3 built that out a bit more both in terms of what we know about him (thinking specifically of fitz's rundown of what he gets up to when beth's not around) and his feelings for beth (how he handled the wake of 213 was, uh, illuminating and it’s been made even more illuminating with the context s4 added with nick’s involvement in rio’s business and the fact that nick knew nothing about lucy).

s4, to me, is building on all of that (see the above comment about the new layer of context to lucy and repeat, for one). we’ve met his family (who they’ve already hinted he’s very close to through the photos in his loft), we’ve found out how he got involved in crime in the first place (and i've seen criticism of the tragedy aspect of it and how that disproportionately applies to characters of color and that’s super valid, though i do think there’d also be a lot of valid criticism if they’d gone the opposite route and written rio as knowingly and gleefully deciding to be a criminal. the show kind of put itself in an impossible position there, but that’s something that goes back to s1 and the entire concept of his character. i’m not saying there isn’t a nuanced way to tell this story but, i don’t think anyone in the fandom would argue the gg team doesn’t often do so well with narrowly threaded needles, hahaha), and we’ve also seen that rio’s got some kind of big, complicated feelings for beth that result in him making moves and choices that both are and aren’t in his best interest/at her expense and the dichotomy is sloppy bc, as established, those kinds of feelings make rio sloppy. 

honestly, i think one of the biggest reasons rio’s deepening characterization is so controversial is bc by holding off for so long (a choice that i admire conceptually from a storytelling angle—keeping him shrouded in mystery keeps the audience firmly rooted in the girls’ POVs which is where they want us to be—but v understand how it hasn’t worked for a lot of people and do think they’ve fumbled it at a couple of key steps), it allowed people to sort of choose their own rio and now that the show’s committing to their vision, it’s demolishing a lot of people’s personal versions and that sucks! if the show ever canonically says rio and mick haven’t been friends since they were kids, i, for one, am going to elect to ignore it bc FALSE!!!!!! but this phenomenon is also, you know, part of watching tv. someone else writes it, you ultimately have no say in it, you can really only decide for yourself when it no longer sparks joy enough that it’s a dealbreaker and you walk. 

BUT yeah, i guess to wrap it all up, i do think s4 rio tracks with and has been directly built on the rios that have come before, but also think that accepting that he has big messy feelings for beth is a crucial part in understanding the choices he’s making, and if that’s not working for you, i don’t see this trajectory ultimately being v satisfying bc uh, yeah, i think it’s only going to get exponentially messier as we go. 

[moonlightchess]

I’m an atheist. I used to be extremely religious, mostly because I was thoroughly brainwashed, conditioned and indoctrinated since before I could really talk to be terrified of my grandmother’s church’s hell and demons (whom I was told were responsible for everything from my childhood epilepsy to my birth parents abandoning me, usually because of some grievous sin I’d committed. At like, 4 years old.) This post isn’t about my incredibly traumatic history with organized religion so I’m not really going to get into that, but the point is that I have long since lost all ability to accept anything I can’t prove or see, touch and hear. And believe me, I MISS it - I miss the security and comfort of faith, the fulfillment of feeling like I’m part of something so much bigger than me, the warmth of love from a god I used to be absolutely sure existed. I miss the sense of purpose and mission, I miss the identity. I can never go back and find those things in religion again, but my friend Adrian has. 

He’s a Catholic priest now, officially, he finished seminary recently. We met when I was in college and he was part of an outreach program from his church to help mend relationships between the local church presence and my college’s LGBT support group. Adrian is one of the kindest, gentlest, most optimistic and compassionate people I’ve ever known. He’s shockingly (at least to me) progressive for a priest, and I fully admit to grilling him when we first met, trying to root out his hidden conservative shittiness that I was sure lurked under the surface of his patient smile. I would try to trick him into admitting that he secretly thought gays were going to hell, or black people didn’t belong in the priesthood, or even things like his opinions on American borders or healthcare reform. Adrian shamed me with how incredibly understanding and tolerant he was of my constant barrage of attempts to prove he was as awful as the people who raised me and saw me in church every Sunday.

Once, when I was doing just this, he laughed and said, “Teddy. Jesus was black, science is real, and god loves gay people. There really are those among the clergy who know this to be true, and I promise I’m one of them. I completely understand why you’re suspicious though.” The thing that gets me is, knowing him makes the loss of faith hurt more than it would otherwise I think. I might have become someone like Adrian, had I not been exposed to the horrors and lies slithering under the shiny surface of religion early on. I wish I could know Adrian’s religion, his faith that clearly brings him so much peace and serenity and love for the world and everyone in it, even the worst of us. 

Getting to know him has scraped that old wound raw, one I thought I’d healed by embracing only the proven and logical and dismissing anything that demanded blind faith. If god were real, I told myself, he or she or they or it wouldn’t need or want to demand blind faith. Nothing worth believing in requires you to close your eyes and stick your head in the sand and ignore rationale. The justifications always grated on me too, the easy and convenient defense that “well, if my prayers aren’t answered it’s because god had a different plan, and if they were then that was also god, hooray!” It smacked of deliberately tailored comfort, a defense mechanism to protect our fragile human brains against the vast meaninglessness of reality.

But sometimes Adrian will text me and ask if I want coffee, he’s always up early in the mornings because that’s who he is and I usually am because I sleep like shit and I often have early work shifts. And when I meet him, sometimes it’s cool and brisk and pearl-gray and we’re in knitted scarves and boots and his collar isn’t visible under his layers but it is, it radiates all around him like a halo of his own and he sips his dark roast and tips his head back to look up at the quiet dawn blooming like he knows something I don’t, something he’s aching for me to find on my own because it’s the only way I will. In those moments, I remember the stirrings of faith, how it felt to wonder if maybe the violent, furious, terrifying god of my grandmother’s was a complete misinterpretation of the kind of god who was really out there, sharing those dawns and that coffee and that peace with us. I used to look for that quiet god in between all the screaming and shrieking in tongues and judgment and hellfire and horror and hatred of my family’s church, but I could never find them and finally I gave up. I told Adrian about this today, on my day off during our early coffee run.

“Of course you did,” he said. “They didn’t just demand blind faith of you, they yanked a blindfold around your heart and made you stumble through all their hellfire desperately looking for the living god. They had no right, and no one can blame you for escaping as soon as you could. They were screaming in your ears so loudly you couldn’t hear the quiet god whispering, calling you. That’s the tragedy of it all, really. They took god from you and left you deaf and blind in the cold, lost and scarred. God doesn’t scream or swing fists. God whispers, and waits.”