#one-man proof of concept on how people don’t always get what they deserve

[himbeaux-on-ice]

morning. still bummed about max.

[chryso-poeia]

Alright i’m sick of this:

To me it’s pretty simple. If a person with sexist views argues that "men are useless, etc.," then such a person could clearly do just fine on their own without police assistance, a fire department, or a doctor. You can also scrap the protection that could’ve been provided by that country’s national army. Source: biological differences. I don’t have to explain why. Words are spells and, in this context, the idea of "oppressing the oppressor" has never solved anything. If you need proof of why sexist rhetoric is both incredibly small-minded, fear-based, and harmful, look up the spikes in unalive statistics for men.

The issue is much deeper than gender; it has to do with societal conditioning and norms. Most people crumble without a clear sense of belonging as well as the rules that are mutually agreed on for the same reason. Deviations from normative behavior result in ostracization. What is needed, therefore, is bravery. Individualism. Empowering each and every man with the capacity to see beyond their masculine conditioning or machismo, in order to prevent repression from building into events I won’t mention here. But not everyone has the same interest in self-development or will ever suffer enough to see the imperative motivation behind growth or cultivation of their spirituality.

The combination of inherently increased aggression and its physical manifestations in a lot of men, together with conformity to societal norms, causes men to become ticking time bombs. This is especially applicable to straight cis men that exist in the most desensitized of cultures. Young straight cis men are also the most dangerous members of any society. These factors contribute to what a misguided man looks like. There’s also another deeper reason why men are so repressed: survival instincts. Men are aware, if not acutely then subconsciously, of the potential of violence in their immediate environment with other men. Wherein deviation from vigilance, i.e., feminine expression, can result in one becoming a victim.

Now, according to evolutionary pressures, this is one of the fundamental functions of men: to protect. Conversely, this is also why women express their aggression verbally. One gender has a physical superiority in terms of self-defense, and the other one doesn’t. This is why conversations around emotional regulation are wonderful as well as self-love. Because everything starts with self-image.

Purpose, above anything, is crucial for any man. Aggression is a very strong energy which demands transmutation through intensity whether in physical movement, combat sports or a strong sense of purpose. This doesn’t take into account how increased aggression tends to manifest in men with ASPD, but no one can solve that, so be grateful to your local emergency services. Otherwise, these men would take over. This is also what the extension of "defunding the police" would look like, i.e the concept of anarchy.

The aforementioned factors also contribute to the formation of power egos in men. These egos are sensitive, and if such a man isn’t well adjusted, violence can occur. None of this takes into account things like childhood trauma either. But as I just mentioned early in the text, the roles and jobs that men fill in society cannot be understated no matter how you try to skew it. For this reason, they deserve to be honored and uplifted. This is also why the culture of "toxic masculinity" is so harmful and hurtful. Because it doesn’t have any nuance or grey zones. When cliques of mostly unintelligent women get ahold of negative sexist ideals and use it to project their anger through generalization, it suddenly becomes very dangerous. Because groups of people all aligned in one direction are always dangerous. Hence, individualism.

I don’t have to revert the roles here for people to understand this either. None of this takes away from what is done to women the world over at the hands of men, or what men worldwide are responsible for. It is appaling and inexcusable. But it is not for me to talk at length about, because i am a man. But it still isn’t about defining men strictly according to a set of intrinsically harmful, fundamentally negative characteristics.

It’s about seeing each other as human beings with issues caused by our conditioning. I.e to see the causes and address them through understanding and education. Aggression is hardly ever helpful and gauging the instances that do not require it and those that do is imperative. Otherwise all you get is the endless ouroboros of toxicity that saturates a lot of spaces today.

This world is not a courtroom; it operates based on cause and effect. So if you are unable to see things on a seed level, your ability to make a compelling argument is very diminished.

Men and masculinity are not inherently bad or untrustworthy things and I don't mean that in a 'misandry is real and a problem' way, I mean that in a 'I think some of you might have contracted minor radfem poisoning' way

[curiosity-killed]

Lang Qianqiu deserves more love goddammit: a post, unfortunately

This brought to you by the wonderful @veliseraptor & @/yuer on Twitter but also mostly out of spite and the fact that it’s preventing me from writing a very dumb poke-the-bear post abt the entire weird social media culture around The Minors

As always ✨SPOILERS!! SPOILERS EVERYWHERE✨

So first off: when I hit the scene where lqq confronts xl and screams “I will never be like you” I sat up in bed, did a little shimmy of delight, and hissed “fuck yes” at like 2 AM so. Now you have a preview of wtf this train wreck will be

1 ) lqq is a good character

We don’t get a ton of time with lqq because tgcf is 87 side characters running across stage with The Most Interesting Concept constantly one-upping each other before vanishing. But what we do get is, I think, enough to make a pretty compelling story: Lang Qianqiu is a kind and generous prince who is also the sole survivor of the bloody massacre of his entire family, committed by the people dearest to him (both in his belief that Gusohi Fangxin did it and in the reality of An Le’s involvement), who goes on to peacefully lead his fractious nation into a peaceful reign before he ascends as a powerful enough (aka beloved and worshipped enough) god to be ranked among the top heavenly generals. That’s like. Pretty fucking classic protagonist vibes right there.

And, as usual with mxtx’s characters, we get a lot more than this lovely little backstory. In his interactions in canon, lqq is capable of great grief and anger; he is willing to sacrifice himself if it means avenging his murdered family; and he simultaneously holds both great hatred and great respect for his old teacher. And, of course, he winds up raising and taking care of his enemy’s son which shows a remarkable depth of compassion and emotional messiness that I find terribly compelling. He struggles with a simplistic view of justice that is supported by lies told to “protect” him and that is uprooted by the truth and forces him to try to make sense of the world without the guardrails that others installed around him (looking at you mister fangxin sir).

Also I’m stealing my own tweets bc I’m Right but:

*pulls up single barstool to lqq is a good character table* I think it’s interesting & Says Things abt the continued relationship btwn lqq & xl that lqq *didn’t* recognize xl, implying that he left fangxin’s mask in place even when he went to kill him

Like here is the man who killed his family & best friend, who left him abandoned in bloodshed on his 17th bday—& here is also the man who saved his life, who taught him, who lqq looked up to & wanted to be like

Even when lqq *does* recognize xl, he still has so much respect for him paired with that hatred that it’s honestly rlly tragic? Like man. There’s so much grief in lqq’s repeated demands for a duel & insisting it’s fine if xl kills him as long as he doesn’t hold back

*pats lqq pompom* this bb is so sad. And so much more like his teacher than either of them seem to realize or necessarily want

Despite being a pretty minor character, lqq gets a lot of complexity and nuance! Look at this child trying to be grown up while desperately turning to his old master for guidance and “the truth”! Look at him! Be sad!!

2 ) lqq is an excellent parallel to xl

Okay stealing my own tweet again don’t look at me I yell the same shit everywhere

Xl didn’t want lqq to become like him (self-sacrificing, vengeful, alone) but lqq not only became alone, chasing vengeance, & willing to sacrifice himself for revenge—he also became kind, open-minded, & remorseful!! & he still clearly respects xl @ novel end 🙃🙃

We all know hc’s “they’re not very alike at all” and yeah sure baby go support your man but narratively, there’s a lot of importance given to cycles, parallels, and foils in mxtx’s writing and most explicitly (compared to mdzs, haven’t read svss) in tgcf. For example, *gestures at beefleaf, gestures at Xianle Trio vs Wuyogn Crew, gestures at Xie Lian & Jun Wu’s whole uh. Deal.* And while I’d argue xl and lqq are part of a triumvirate rather than a pair, we’re not including mister three-face in this conversation so just looking at xl and lqq:

Both adored and sheltered crown princes

Both taught by a guoshi who was seeking to prevent the repetition of their own tragedies and in their efforts, lied/omitted information and failed to protect their charge from tragedy

Both were betrayed* by their closest friends

Both are the last living members of their respective royal families

Both caught the interest of supernatural beings from a young age

Etc etc I’m getting v bored and distracted writing this so moving on

Most importantly to me, we have their betrayal by a very close and adored mentor and how they react. The confrontation I mention at the start of this shitshow is really imo one of the most important scenes in the novel because it a) illustrates the differences in xl and Jun Wu and b) sort of gives you a preview of how xl ultimately wins

So a) Jun Wu and Xie Lian both take a talented, marked-for ascension young prince under their wing. Jun Wu sees himself in the boy and obsesses over shaping him into Jun Wu’s own image in the belief that this will make him the perfect heir. Jun Wu pushes his chosen heir into situations where Xie Lian is repeatedly harmed in an effort to show that the common people are fickle and cruel and don’t deserve his compassion and care.

Meanwhile, Xie Lian is reluctantly roped into mentoring his prince due to his inability to stand aside when he feels he could do something to prevent hurt or injustice befalling another (simultaneously his great strength and great weakness! God I love him). Xie Lian tries to teach his student to believe in and care for the common people and not to sacrifice himself (see: flashback convo re:taking the force of the sword strike into his own body).

When Xie Lian refuses to bend in the shape Jun Wu demands, Jun Wu bashes his head into the wall. When Lang Qianqiu cries “I will never be like you!”, Xie Lian laughs and says “Good!”.

B) this of course feeds directly into foreshadowing! Like Lang Qianqiu’s bold words, xl ultimately refuses to become like his mentor and remains defiant even when it would stop him from being hurt. Xl beats lqq and says so what if I tricked you, so what if I lied, I still won. Naturally, xl beats Jun Wu not through standard swordplay but by using a trick he learned while forced to busk and wander the earth alone and unlucky for centuries.

…okay so I have fully forgotten what I was actually saying here! Anyway!

Like Xie Lian, Lang Qianqiu spends a time consumed with the need for vengeance, hunting his enemy and rejecting the heavens. And like Xie Lian, he winds up caring for his enemy’s “son” and trying to both comfort him and maintain what’s left of Qi Rong’s life force despite having previously been hellbent on destroying him—bc he sees the impact it has on another person. In the end, he even gives a gift to Xie Lian—his mentor, his role model, and the one who killed his father—that was once given to him as a symbol of unexpected kindness. Sound familiar?

But, importantly, and contradictory to what I have been yelling abt but whatever it’s 12:30 am, Lang Qianqiu is not a direct mirror of Xie Lian but a closing of a vital loop in the story. Lqq is very similar to xl (I will die on this hill!! Only I won’t bc I’m stronger than y’all and will keep swinging these pots and pans) but bc xl tries to do better and keep lqq from suffering the way xl has, lqq is able to have a gentler and more optimistic path forward. He’s proof that even a small act of kindness or even kindness to only one person still matters and has a ripple effect that can’t be seen when you’re in the middle of it—a thread started with xl giving the coral pearl to Lang Ying and closed with Lang Qianqiu returning the pearl to Xie Lian.

So I have no idea if any of this is coherent or compelling but I meant to be asleep two hours ago and the points are:

A) Lang Qianqiu is good actually

B) parallels!!!

C) look ive already started another wip about Lang Qianqiu and Xie Lian and I didn’t want this but no one else wrote it so now I have to so pls just accept this as a warning

*sort of air quotes around this for Xie Lian bc frankly Mu Qing was right & Xie Lian kicked feng xin out BUT on the other hand, it was experienced as a betrayal and we also again have all of Jun Wu’s shit so it evens out

[tomatograter]

whats your opinions on jake being portrayed as arospec or acespec and gay? do you think it would make sense if he was acespec or arospec or no? it definitely makes sense that hes gay

Personally (and it's important that this starting disclaimer exists) *I* don't portray Jake as being in the aro/ace spectrum. That's Me. It's not a subject i enjoy debating about because it feels unfocused.

This is for a variety of reasons I consider important, the biggest one being that Jake is a sexual assault survivor — this is not something that has happened to "a" Jake, it is an intrinsic part of his story be it on the beta earth or on the game over timeline or in the alpha earth or in the epilogues; it's a recurrent constant. And he responds to it badly, always.

Jake's ambivalence towards being worthy of a relationship, immediate repulsion to any sort of contact, attempts at self-isolation, and subsequent hypersexuality after being harassed and threatened with sexual assault by jane are... really eerily accurate to my own experiences and survivors i know. When he decides to perform as an adult he overdoes it: he does things he's not exactly proud of and that contribute to a manufactured image the public has of him, but it's not because he's disinterested, it's because he's traumatized. He's trying to prove that he's "gotten better". I identified within the spectrum as a teen, but the label only worked insofar as I had my own points of contention to work through and being in any sort of relationship, for a period of my life, was untenable. It was easier to find a label that would help me not think about it anymore and mark every potential risk down as 'unavailable'.

The average sexual assault victim in media gets one of two treatments. First being the inspiration porn, as in "here to make the protagonist feel less shitty about their life because other people have it worse!", and second being The Tragedy That Dies At The End. The first is often coupled with said character conveniently disappearing after their usefulness to the plot or protagonist is exhausted, a friendly figure walking off alone into the mist with a placid smile, and the second just dies. Neither is considered fit for romance, and the nebulous concept of happy ending seems to exist inside this desexed, saintly, sterilized, and 90% of the time bubblewrapped future where they become a monk or something. As if that's the only way they'll get "fixed" aside from death.

If they had a baby from the assault, sometimes, they get to keep it. Never remarry though!

(There's a minor blessing spared to victims that also happen to be protagonists, in which they get to go on a cinematic revengequest, but I consider that a different subject in how people tend to portray "functional" survivors altogether. The Protagonist with some hidden dark secret is still the Protagonist. The victim is defined by being the victim.)

Conversations about aro/ace Jake tend to frame it as an innate truth he's always been aware of, while also pointedly not touching on the big awkward trauma sitting in the middle of the room. I've read about it and seen how it gets portrayed in other fanworks, but i don't think it works for me. Jake's self-hatred and victim blaming is upped to 110 in the conversation that often gets cited as proof that he's aromantic, but that's in the same log where he says 'maybe hes not worth of anyone's time ever, and maybe he shouldn't inconvenience anyone ever again, and maybe he did something to provoke or deserve all of this, so really everyone would be much happier if he moved into the woods, bleeped off the radar, and never had a chance to ruin their lives again' so idk. It never felt comfortable to me to ignore the context it's in, what it was motivated by, and same with the post-trickster logs, where he's still jealous over dirk after saying Maybe He's Just Broken for not getting what roxy or jane feel when they go to dubious extremes in the name of "love".

"Nonrom sansplat" in on itself is a bit of an awkward punitive joke, like, he's announcing hes not even worthy of having platonic friends. What the hell!

And Jake does want to have friends, and he does want to date somebody, and multiple times throughout the story we see he's romantically interested in dirk in a way that is not reciprocated once the subject of the sentence is switched to jane or aranea or even roxy, but he clearly does feel upset when that is taken away from him, so for me it seems clear enough.

Second reason being, Jake tends to get infantilized pretty hard. Its uncomfortable to see the overlaying composite of people recognizing ND/Autistic traits in him and exclaiming he's unfit for a relationship because "he can't handle it", or is "too dumb for it", while also knowing a lot of his issues stem from trying to make his friends not leave him and have other people recognize him as a full person (or as a grown adult, in the case of the epilogues).

In sum; I think Jake has a complex identity, but to me its core is defined by how he fails to perform masculinity in every traditional sense, the harm that is brought to him because of that (and lets be honest, most of the incidents are framed as "corretive", beta jake's specifically because he fell for a man, etc), how he has to deal with it afterwards, and slowly learn how to heal without further harming himself.

[kyberphilosopher]

Atonement

Requested: yes. 

Word Count: 4193 Cal must deal with the consequences of his comrades deception and injuries, while they must deal with what this means for their relationship. 

Atonement is the concept of a person taking action to correct previous wrongdoing on their part, either through direct action to undo the consequences of that act, equivalent action to do good for others, or some other expression of feelings of remorse.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*. 

Once upon a time, Anakin wasn’t all bad. But maybe that was why he died. After that, there wouldn’t have been competition for someone that was all bad, or at least somewhat worse than Anakin was alone. 

Not that Anakin was a complete and utter angel. You knew, not better than anyone but still enough, that Anakin wasn’t all good either. And sure, most people aren’t, but your Master wasn’t most people. Far more talented and powerful was he than the other Jedi Knights, but far more unhinged was he who could not control himself. Anakin was the latter. 

The other Jedi seemed to pity you. It wasn’t as if Anakin Skywalker was always inherently kind on you. You weren’t funny like Ahsoka, or respectable like Obi-Wan. In fact, Anakin had a suspicion that there was something inside of you that reminded him of his mother. Thus, he was cold. And he rarely bothered to teach in the way that people deserved to be taught. 

He doesn’t like me, you remember thinking. He never will. 

You had been the perfect padawan. You were certain you had done everything right. And yet, Anakin’s stare was icy, when he bothered to look your way at all. Where had your Master gone after the Purge anyway?

Your eyes open slowly. 

Light peels across your vision, smeared from the art of being tired. Once your lids are widened, the back of your right hand lays across your forehead lazily. You had been dreaming, hadn’t you? But what had it been about? And why did it seem so hard to remember?

Maybe it was about your Master again, you realize as you exhale. No- ex Master now. But maybe it had been about him. It wouldn’t have been the first time. 

You’re a Clone Killer. 

Eyebrows crease with a twitch. You’ve laid in bed with too much comfort now. It’s time to get up. Stars, but the bed is warm and your legs are tangled in your comforter just right. When’s the next time you’ll get to feel this relaxed and sleepy?

Must’ve been the worst Padawan in history. 

“Shit,” you whisper with closed eyes. Yes, now you’re more than certain that it’s time to get up. Comfort doesn’t matter today. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

The restroom door hisses to a close behind you. Rubbing the back of your neck, you begin your sluggish march to the ships deck. You can already smell Greez’s cooking wafting from around the corner. What is that? Sausage and... is that eggs?

Your pants scuff against each other, sweatshirt twisting with the reach of your arm. As the floor transitions from metal to stiff rug, you pull your chair out. 

“Ah, good morning sleepyhead,” you hear Greez’s voice call out to you. Your eyes remain sleepy, gazing down at the table. Doesn’t even look present, Cal observes as his eyes flick over your face. 

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sun today,” Dritus continues from the stove. One of his four hands flick the pan over the stove up with an explosive sizzle. “Be careful you don’t make me feel bad, so I don’t feel inclined to give you more of my food.”

“I slept in too late,” you mutter, half to yourself. 

At the other side of the table, Cal’s stocky form is hunched over. One of his hands is wrapped around a cup on the table, which is covered in cold perspiration. Soft ginger hair falls back as he looks over you. You could feel his pretty, kaleidoscope eyes from the other side of the universe. He doesn’t say anything, though, and you’re too tired to play the “What’s He Thinking About?” game right now. 

“You’re damn right you did,” the Latero says. “Cal here was just about to go and check in on you.”

You swallow quickly, glancing up at the man parallel to you. Cal is looking over at Greez, given you a clear view of his jaw and the scar that stretches over his neck. He’s beautiful. He always has been. You can feel your ears start to burn, and you look away almost immediately. 

“Thanks,” you say instead, finally pulling your hand away from your neck. Without even realizing it, your intelligent orbs look to Cal again. This time, however, your eyes meet. Electric pulses run through you, tickling from your neck to your pelvis. And, true to your nature, you brake gazes immediately. “I think I’ll skip out on breakfast today.”

“Seriously?” Greez whirls around, dumbfounded. “But... breakfast is the most important meal of the day!”

That’s true. Ever since you gained the privilege of having Greez Dritus the wanted Latero to cook for you, breakfast had been far more likeable. He always knows how to add the perfect amount of spice and flavor without coming off as overbearing. But there’s something in the back of your throat, crawling up to the tip of your tongue. A name of an old master, and the dream that you can’t remember. 

“I’m just not hungry,” you push yourself out of your stool and slide it back under the table. Cal watches your form jog down the steps and disappear into the cockpit, his lips parted and near pulling into a frown. 

“Wonder what her problem is,” Greez’s raspy voice calls into the air. 

“Let her be,” a mature female voice breaks as it rounds the corner. Cere emerges from the hallway by the stares, her watchful eyes also glued on the cockpit archway. “She’ll come around.”

Will you? Cal wonders. You’ve always been a bit tight lipped in the grand scheme of things, but today the anguish is peeling off of you like steam. You seem pale in the way that conveys sickness. The dark circles under your eyes are wise, but tired. Maybe you’re just ill. 

It’s not that far off. As you flip switches around on the console pointlessly, all you have to think about are these hands that disappointed your Master. Calloused, rough fingers. Raw palms from holding your saber. Clever, but never enough. 

You exhale through your nose, your shoulders sinking. 

Oh, that’s right. That’s what happened to your Master.

How could you have forgotten that?

“Rough night?”

You perk up at the sound of his voice, but don’t turn around. It’s not that you don’t want to look at Cal, it’s that you feel to ashamed of yourself to even try it. You don’t deserve to look upon him. 

“Just feeling sick,” you mutter so hoarse he can barely hear. 

“Is that the truth?”

Your eyes widen stiffly. One heel at a time, your feet turn around until you are facing your companion. 

Time slows as you look at Cal. His soft orange hair billows in the air conditioning, kaleidoscope eyes twinkling with wonder. The freckles, the jaw, the chapped pink lips. He is beautiful. The way he looks at you now makes you feel guiltier than usual. 

Why don’t you just tell him? Tell him you know the person who’s responsible for that scar on his stomach. Tell him you were trained by him. Tell him about your nightmare last night, how you woke up in cold sweats. But you can’t. You just can’t. 

“Yeah,” you say hoarsely, eyes glued to his. 

Cal steps forward suddenly, almost losing his balance. His soft, pink lips come dangerously close to yours. You can smell his scent, turning your jaw to meet him instinctively. But it was just an accident. 

He steps away to regain his balance. The only sound in the room is that of the air vents. 

He wasn’t going to kiss you. 

Cal stays still, firm. “I hope you feel better,” he says in the same tone as before, though far more sincere. 

And he turns away and walks out of the room, leaving you alone with only the air to comfort you.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

The leaves crunch under boots as they do. Twigs snap, pebbles crumble. Dirt scuffs against each shoe. 

Above you, the Kashyyyk trees whisper in the wind, allowing pools of sunlight to fall in between the loose spaces of green. The breeze tickles at the skin on your arms. It’s a nice day. But this is still not enough to improve the sick feeling in your stomach. 

Maybe you really were just a failure of a padawan after all. 

“Hey,” the boy beside you calls. “Look up there.”

You raise your head, squinting through the thin, rainbow rays of sun. Up ahead of you, over a steep drop that could be anything from a river to an abyss, is a great mechanical building. It’s sleek and gray, standing out against the natural beauty. This itself is enough proof of Imperial presence. 

“I thought they would’ve left by now,” you mutter, slightly in awe. Birds fly over the fort as if it didn’t bother them for a second, and the waterfall nearby doesn’t cease its babbling. “Why haven’t they left by now?”

“Only one way to find out,” Cal tells you after some seconds of silence. 

Something rushes through the air then- a gust of wind that only you seem to feel. It’s haunting and low, like it has it’s own voice or musical theme of doom. It’s almost impossible to tell whether it’s a warning, a promise, or some kind of mockery, but it feels dark. More importantly, it feels like a message. But Cal doesn’t move a muscle. Only his orange locks billow in time with his lashes, which close slowly. 

“Wait,” you break the quiet. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

The boys eyes are furrowed when his head turns to you. His pale green eyes flash briefly in the sunlight, but the twinkle of confusion and curiosity remain after the flash disappears. “Why not?”

The rush of wind slows until you can barely feel it anymore. The words are on the tip of your dried up tongue, but you’re not even sure what they are. What can you say to explain your... your fear? It’s more than just intuition or a gut feeling. It’s something you know for a fact, and you have the evidence, but you can’t even hold it. 

“It’s dangerous,” you decide, your bottom lip shaking too quick to notice. You say it almost casually, almost as if it were obvious. And of course, it is. Thus the flaw in your attempt. 

“Most things are,” Cal replies. 

Just then, the pitter pattering of little metal feet tap against the dirt and mulch comes to life. It completely cuts away what little presence the ominous air had left, only allowing BD-1′s happy little whirs to clearly ring through. 

Cal’s hands rest on his hips as he turns his head to look at his partner. He squats to the ground with his little calm smile. “Would it make you feel better if I sent BD to scout ahead?”

It wouldn’t at all. All you can think about instead is your little scrapped friend getting his sliced clean off with a long, red blade. Cal wouldn’t even be able to fix him. 

“BD, go on ahead,” Cal tells the machine. He scratches along BD’s head for encouragement, and the creature doesn’t even seemed miffed before hopping off into the leaves and trees until he’s completely out of sight. 

“I don’t- I don’t think-” your hands ball to fists at your sides. A lump forms in your throat like an invisible bubble, or a heavy ball clogging your airway. 

“Y/N?” Cal’s brows furrow once more as he twists and stands again. “You look pale.”

Another wave of wind flows through. It’s the same as before- cold, threatening, filled with something angry and sad and warning you to never have to feel it for real. However, your partner feels it this time too. 

His eyes leave yours and drop to the ground behind him as he twists in concern, looking around for whatever could be the cause. Subconsciously, his right hand lifts from his side to the right side of his ribs. Your eyes widen in understanding, but you wish so badly it was anything but that. 

“Do you feel that?” Cal calls out to you, still trying to locate the presence that doesn’t even exist. 

Yes, you think as you watch the boys other hand slip over his saber. I feel it. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Anakin wasn’t always evil. Whether or not he’s even evil now is up for debate. But for as long as you knew him, in your eyes at least, he was your hero. Not because he helped you, which he didn’t, or because he wanted the best for you, which he didn’t care about. But because he was strong, and someone to look up to. He’s the knight in shining armor that every little boy wants to be like when they grow up, and the warrior every feminist wants to be equal to. Anakin Skywalker was, by all means, a dream. 

So then why is this the worst you’ve ever felt?

“Master?” your voice wheezes out. There’s a storm all around you, a personal tornado for the three of you that makes everything but roaring hard to hear. Rapid blinking helps to keep the dust from your eyes every few seconds, but not enough. It’s starting to sting.

“Stop,” you hear another voice say, but it’s muffled with chokes. “Stop...”

This isn’t Anakin. This is a man of metal- obsidian and iron and cooled magma. There’s not a single inch of flesh showing. The cape, whipping wildly in the wind, is the closest thing to organic. It’s tattered, and the wind gives the illusion of it bleeding away like inky smoke.

“Join me,” False Anakin calls. His fist clenched with determination, a red glow brightening up the area. “Serve your master.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

And from Cal’s position, you just look plain pretty. Kind of distraught, with faded eyes and slightly knitted brows paired with a frown. Your hair is sort of billowing in time with the storm around you, along side that weapon on your belt. Really, you look sad. 

Cal’s fingers dig into the dirt and sand beneath his body. His whole form feels like it’s going to rip away into dust, like Vader doesn’t want him there. And of course, he doesn’t. He hasn’t even given Cal a glance. That being said, his whole stomach feels entirely enflamed. Especially that one special place where he’d felt Vader’s touch before. Now Cal knows that you must’ve been touched by him as well. It’s the worst feeling in the world. 

“Don’t,” he chokes. Cal gets a mouthful of dirt in the process, but he doesn’t even register it. “Y/N-”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

“-will come back from this.”

Your eyes open. They feel stiff and dry, like how you imagine a mummy’s would. The light over head is blinding and white, with flecks of rainbow bouncing off it at the sharper edges. You do not react in any way. 

Internal bleeding of the stomach, one impalement scar on your right side. There is a long, long series of blisters and torn skin across your shoulder from being tossed and dragged across the ground. Then there’s the slit over your left eye which makes it impossible to open. You might as well have lost it. 

Some people would’ve been happy to just be alive. Fighting Darth Vader? Fighting Anakin Skywalker? And surviving it? Well, not everyone gets that privilege. But for some reason the appreciation isn’t coming to you. Maybe you should’ve died back then as some kind of last apology. 

“I know they will.”

You hear footsteps from beyond the doorway become more and more faint, until you can’t even hear them at all. The metal door hisses open. There’s a few footsteps against the floor, then a sharp pause. 

Your head rolls to your right lazily. A young man stands before you. A cute redhead with a broad chest and wide, shocked pale green eyes. Underneath them are mauve rings- dark circles and bags- and chapped pink lips. 

Cal opens his mouth to speak, and then spins around. With the flick of your wounded fingers, the entrance to the room closes and seals itself shut with a click. The cute redhead is still, his back away from you. 

Maybe because of the loss of some other senses, your Jedi one’s have heightened. The intuition inside of you is reading his color- his entire aura- something you could’ve sworn you weren’t able to do before. There’s so much anxiety from him. Enough to make up from the lack of anxiety you have right about now. 

“You’re awake,” he speaks. You can sense his voice about to crack. “I should tell the others.”

“Don’t be stupid, Cal,” your raspy voice croaks. “Don’t be fucking stupid.”

He turns around to look at you, one foot at a time. His eyes are downturned tiredly, but mostly from sadness. The corners of his lips are annoyed from your words. “You’ve been asleep for two weeks,” Cal says. “Didn’t know if you were coming back.”

You don’t say anything.

His use of the words ‘coming back’ sting. Just two simple words, which to you feel like they mean something far more deep and sinister. Almost as sinister as yourself. 

“Are you okay?” he proceeds to question, though you both know it’s just out of politeness. 

“I can’t see out of my eye.”

“Do you know why?”

You don’t move. You’re quiet yet again. 

Cal’s voice raises frustratingly. “Do you know why? You let someone put a lightsaber to your face just so you could smash in their helmet!”

“I don’t remember that.”

“He stabbed you in your stomach!”

Cal’s never raised his voice at you before. You wish you were more upset about it. His tone alone is enough to make a sinking weight appear in the pit of your stomach. But you can’t cry. You can barely feel anything but both relief and emptiness. Not once in those two weeks did you dream about either Anakin, or Vader. 

“I watched him pick you up and slam you on the ground! I watched you die about a million times out there!”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” you mutter hoarsely. And you mean that, too. 

“I thought that...”

Don’t. Don’t tell him. 

“I thought that I was going to hurt you.”

Silence fills the room from corner to corner. Even whatever air that once came from the vents has come to a complete halt. Maybe every system in the galaxy has stopped its turn. 

“What?” Cal asks, now much softer. He takes a gentle step towards you, his eyes desperately locked to your own.

You glance down before back to him. “I was his apprentice before the purge. Don’t ask Cere about it- he never talked about me. I doubt there was even paperwork to confirm it. I thought this was coming but... I wasn’t sure.”

Cal takes another step forward. 

“He never liked me. And then on Kashyyyk... he...” You swallow down the shame for a moment. “He told me he wanted me to be his apprentice again. For real this time.”

“So you fought him,” Cal partially pieces together. 

You swallow again and look down to your hands. 

“Cal, I fought him because I wanted to go with him. I saw my- I saw the future he was talking about. It was good for me. I was happy... sort of.”

He’s finally close enough to sit on the end of the bench that you didn’t even process lying on. There’s concern in his eyes as he listens, and he doesn’t dare take them off your face. It makes you feel like even more of a coward. 

“But I didn’t see you there, too. I didn’t see anyone there. I thought maybe I... I thought maybe I had killed you.”

Cal opens his parched lips slightly, and then closes them. 

“And I really don’t want to kill you.”

Cal looks away. From here, sitting up slightly so you didn’t choke in your sleep, you can make out freckles on his neck. They stretch over his tendons, across his jawline. They’ll no doubt stretch over that scar from his jaw down on the other side. His long lashes move as he blinks. His hair looks softer than ever. 

“After the battle I carried you away. After it was done you just... looked at me. And then you collapsed, and I had to carry you.”

Silence. 

Cal gets up. 

“Cal?” you call, louder than you meant. 

The boy turns back to look at you. 

“I...”

Is he prettier than before?

“Do you hate me?”

Cal creases his brows. 

“Do you... are you going to talk to me again?”

He opens his mouth, but you don’t let him speak. 

“Don’t say it, if you don’t mean it. I was trained by the most dangerous person in the galaxy. By your biggest enemy. I... lied to you about it. I almost killed you, Cal. You can hate me.”

“Do you think I hate you?”

Your eye squints, and finally it glosses over as it wells with tears. “Yeah.”

Cal Kestis. Man of your dreams. Hero of everything. Angel of infinity. Please, don’t hate me. You have every right to, I know. But please- please don’t. 

“I don’t think I could ever hate you,” he finally whispers, looking down at the floor. “Maybe you should’ve told me, but... I think deep down I already knew.”

A questioning look appears over your features, but Cal answers before you can ask. “You’d been acting off for weeks, Y/N. Those nightmares were about Vader, weren’t they.”

“Yeah. They were... Do you... think of me any differently?”

Please. 

“...No. I don’t know if I could ever do that to you.”

“I couldn’t think of you differently either,” you say after a moment. You throat is getting scratchy, but it’s hard to care. 

“I care about you, Y/N,” he tells you, sincere but calm. “You know that don’t you?”

“You wouldn’t have carried me if you didn’t care, Cal.”

“Y/N on the morning of this whole thing I wanted to kiss you,” he snaps, his hands limply swinging with urgency. “I should’ve kissed you.”

So many emotions in one conversation. 

“You can still kiss me now that I’m clean with you.”

Cal looks at you for a long time, his tired, bright eyes searching for something in your stillness. Then he looks down. 

“It’s okay, Cal. It’s part of my atonement.”

He looks at you for a long time again. The corner of his lips twitch upwards for just a second. It puts you at ease somewhat, with a warm feeling spreading in your stomach finally. 

“You’ve got nothing to atone for,” Cal says. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Y/N.”

You have nothing to say. No words come to your dry tongue, although your lips hang open like something will come out. Nothing does. You just look at your redhead, who’s tired and distraught, but has more clarity and love than he ever has in his entire life. He won’t raise his voice to you again. 

Your palm dances again as you look to away. The door finally opens again, and Cal forgot that you had initially even caged him in here. 

“You can go now.”

It’s quiet. You can hear shuffling, slow footsteps like maybe he doesn’t want to leave. “Can I kiss you when I get back?”

Even while looking at the wall right next to you, your face goes hot and pink. 

“Maybe,” your husky voice answers. And when you turn to look back at him, he’s already looking at you with a genuine smile like a little boy getting a big present that they can’t believe. That’s how he sees it, anyway. 

“I don’t hate you, Y/N,” he suddenly says. “I could never hate you.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Idk if I’m happy with this or not? I ran into a bunch of writers block with this I don’t know why. Sorry it took so long to put out anyway. I also might change it to better fit the request because that’s really the most important thing to me and with finishing it after literal months I might’ve lost sight of the whole point. Idk though. Cal is a cutie. 

TAGLIST: @omg-we-really-doo @chokemeanakin @anakinswhore @haztory @fanficsforheartandsoul @kit-jpg @ahsokatano-thetogruta

[littlesmartart]

Leverage AU thoughts

okay so I wanted to keep the worldbuilding for the AU in that specific photoset relatively short for the sake of how the post worked, but I've seen a lot of questions in the tags so here is some more information for you all, under the cut because it got LONG:

MORALITY: okay so I called this the "(sort of) Leverage AU" because it basically flips the Leverage concept of "criminals work together with one non-criminal for the greater good" into "one criminal persuades a bunch of non-criminals that law =/= morality and that sometimes to make sure the bad guys get justice you have to work around legality". Obviously some people are easier to persuade than others (Huaisang has always been pretty ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ about the law, but before he joins the team he insists all of his crimes have been Theoretical, and besides, pirating movies isn't real crime, da-ge, god), and some of them are a little troubled by it but have their own reasons for joining (Mingjue has a LOT of issues with it, but joins to protect Huaisang for That One Job, and then stays with the insistence that a. they don't kill anyone, b. they don't involve anyone who doesn't super deserve it, and c. that their goal is always to get evidence so the mark can be convicted and the mark is always handed over to the appropriate authorities at the end of the job. he has a little more moral flexibility than canon Mingjue because of his Complicated Past He Wants To Atone For, but he still has an incredibly strong internal moral code that he absolutely will not violate. Jiang Cheng cares more about the law in principle, rather than personally, and as soon as he sees that they can get Justice that the law can't, he's sold). Xichen has the hardest time of it; he jumps into the first job without protest because Meng Yao asks (and Meng Yao never ever asks for anything, so it... it must be important, right? And Jin Guangshan definitely deserves it). After that he has a lot of internal struggling going on, and he's usually the one in the team trying to steer them towards legal means, and going through the "correct" channels. He probably has a breakdown about it at the end of a season and spends the next season Travelling To Find Himself. He winds up coming back to the team when, on one of his travels, he watches a family he's staying with lose everything after being targeted by a conman, but because of a dirty police chief the evidence is destroyed. They refuse to take his money when he tries to help, and he realises that they only way to get them justice... is to call in the team. That's not to say he is 100% cool with everything from then on, and he definitely draws the line at certain criminal acts (stealing for the fun of it he is not okay with, for example, and he gives a Hard No on the suggestion of trying White Rabbit) but for the most part he accepts the concept of what they do as being for the greater good.

GRIFTER XICHEN: yeah it's ridiculous and implausible but hear me out... that just makes it better. Because this man is terrible at improv and can only lie when he's in character (you see that means it's not lying then, it's just ACTING) and doesn't drink and absolutely will not seduce a mark past the level of general flirting... and yet he's somehow a wildly successful grifter??? How??? I'll tell you how: he's so fucking handsome and kind and charming and cultured that pretty much everyone who meets him just... melts a little bit and, with some coaxing, gives him whatever he needs. IT'S LIKE A FREAKIN SUPERPOWER and it's absolutely ridiculous. With the added bonus that he's juuust famous enough that the average person might kind of think he looks familiar, which means he's very good at coming across like he totally belongs wherever he's seen. Of course he works here, he's been here for months... don't you recognise him?

NO WOMEN ON THE TEAM: look, in Meng Yao's defence, when he put together this team he thought it would only be for one job, he wasn't trying to future-proof it! But yes, it can sometimes be an issue if they don't have time to plan ahead, and he and Huaisang - as the most stereotypically feminine members of the team, and by far the best liars - will usually take on any female roles they need if they're in a pinch and can't call in outside help, although all of them are ready to take on roles of different genders if need be (female roles are actually the only way to persuade Huaisang to grift, and he has an extensive shoe collection for such roles that he likes to expand by billing to the company account... Meng Yao is deeply unimpressed by this).

OTHER CHARACTERS: when Meng Yao started this, he worked very very hard to keep his siblings and the rest of his family out of it, to keep them all away from any fallout in case it went wrong (and also to stop any pesky Moral Issues from getting in the way). When that was over and they started taking regular cases, he relaxed the rule a little - Mianmian will sometimes step in to help if she can be sold on how bad the person is they're taking down, Zonghui can be relied upon if they need extra muscle, and Wen Qing is their go-to Ask No Questions doctor. Wei Wuxian frequently gets roped in to consult, as, if you give him six packs of hot chips, ten cans of monster, twelve hours, and a laptop, he can become a specialist in almost anything. Jiang Cheng was very very resistant towards the idea of his brother being allowed in the team, even just as a consultant, but the MOMENT Wei Wuxian was given any access to Shenanigans there was no fucking stopping him. In the later jobs Qin Su accidentally gets pulled into one of the cons and turns out to be a WAY better grifter than anyone could have imagined, so she winds up on the "ally call list". Meng Yao is both perturbed and proud, but absolutely draws the line at teenage Mo Xuanyu being allowed to help.

PAIRINGS: flipping the "two parents + three kids" dynamic in Leverage, this AU has 3zun and Sangcheng - so "three gege + two didi". Xiyao have a One That Got Away sort of past, and Xichen joins the team SPECIFICALLY because Meng Yao expresses emotional vulnerability by asking for help fOr OnCe In HiS fUcKiNg LiFe. Nielan dated when they were teens, and are happy to be reunited, but Mingjue refuses to rekindle a romantic relationship until Xiyao sort their shit out because it's obvious to anyone with eyes how hung up on Meng Yao Xichen is. Nieyao have a certain amount of "I'll work with you towards a common cause but that doesn't mean I have to like you" vibe, but veeery slooowlyyy wind up bonding over doing stuff they're not proud of for something they were so sure was a worthy cause at the time, but now they just feel jaded and used (there's a lot of arguments along the lines of "oh, so my corporate espionage is worse than what you did in spec ops... because the military says that what you did was legal. RIGHT. OKAY. SURE."). After several years of will-they-won't-they struggle, 3zun do get together, and everyone is very relieved. As for Sangcheng... it starts off as Huaisang just flirting kind of obnoxiously with Jiang Cheng, who rolls his eyes and snarks back, and then naturally Huaisang winds up catching feelings and is like [meme voice] Haha, I'm In Danger! He is unwilling to act on his feelings because he doesn't believe that Jiang Cheng likes him that way, and continues to believe that right up until the day Jiang Cheng snaps, and grabs him and kisses him, and is like "if I didn't actually like you flirting with me I would have punched you in the face years ago" and Huaisang is like "huh. Yeah that's probably true."

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 25

Y/n puts an end to everything.

@dovahdokren @deadman-inc-bikeshop @lov3vivian @wisesandwichshark @scpdragon

⚠️HUGE⚠️ trigger warnings: rape, drugging, sex trafficking, VERY graphic descriptions of violence, physical violence (please let me know if I leave anything out)

Hannibal could walk through a valley of human suffering and not even flinch. You couldn't tell if that made him subhuman or superhuman. You, however, were just human.

You wanted to be a badass. You wanted to kick the door down and make a scene. But one woman was enough to break you.

She was wearing only a large t-shirt. A cloth bandage covered in blood covered her pubic area like a makeshift pair of underpants. She laid limply against a stone. Her arms were punctured where needles had been.

"I don't..." she mumbled, clearly intoxicated beyond function. "...don't make me..."

You knew you couldn't afford to stop. But compassion kept your feet firmly on the ground in front of her.

"What is Chase making you do?"

"I can't-" She said, pressing her forehead against the rock. "I can't be an unwoman-"

She began to slam her head against the rock with clear intent to take her own life. Without thinking, you grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her into the grass. She sobbed, a bloody, but thankfully, survivable, gash on her forehead.

"Tell me your name." You demanded, squeezing her shoulders.

"...Tiffany." She said with a sudden lucidity.

The name unlocked a memory in you. It was the still image of a sunny young girl, immortalized on a faded missing person's ad hung up at the grocery store. Tiffany Rose Pierce, it read.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, Tiffany." You whispered. "I'm gonna get all of you out of here."

"Vanguard won't like that." She said, slipping back into a state of minimal consciousness.

"Stay here." You instructed, pushing yourself back to your feet.

You readied your gun and slowly, carefully pushed the cabin door open. Suddenly, the stained glass window was the least of your worries.

The entire area was lined with cheaply-constructed bunk beds, like an overgrown henhouse. Women with distinctively long hair were shackled to the lower bunks. Their shaven counterparts, the unwomen, were forced to be the slavedrivers. They held the chained women down.

You heard the rattling of chains coming from the right. It was accompanied with screaming and wet slapping.

"Take daddy's cock you filthy fucking broodmare." A familiar voice grunted.

The only way you could look at him was behind the barrel of your gun. He was exactly how you pictured him while listening to his voice in the car. Unremarkable, middle-aged and serpentine.

"Pastor Armitage!" You yelled.

To hear someone call him by his title in the midst of violating a person was enough to send him into a panic. He sputtered and his entire face turned red.

He didn't suffer for long, though. A 12 gauge shell right through the face took care of that. Fragments of his head, his blood and brain matter splattered everywhere. His knees buckled and his limp body collapsed.

The room fell silent. Smoke trickled out of your barrel.

"Where's fucking Chase?" You asked the room.

Someone weakly pointed up the stairs. You met her eyes and nodded.

"Sorry about the mess."

Now you knew how Hannibal felt. Blowing someone's head off made you acutely aware of your own head on your shoulders. You held it higher. You felt no remorse as you ascended the staircase with your gun blazing.

You came across a room with some words etched in the door. 'Skin room'. You launched your foot squarely into the door, causing it to violently swing open. 

You examined the room from behind the gun. Chase had done a hell of a job dressing up this cheap cabin bedroom like a hotel suite, but the smell hit you before you could be fooled. A brick chimney, a wine cooler and a mahogany desk were positioned so the eye would gravitate towards the luxury while the nose picked up the brutality. The stained glass window was suspended in front of the real window, absorbing the mid-morning light and giving the room an eerie sepia tint. 

You cocked your gun to announce your presence. You heard the sound of running water, and then a side door swung open. 

“You’ll forgive me a couple minutes to freshen up.” Chase said, shaking his hands dry. “Cleanliness is close to godliness, after all.” 

You said nothing. You didn’t want to dignify him with a conversation. 

He bent over and pulled a bottle of wine from his cooler. He placed it squarely on the desk. You looked at it, then did a double take. He grinned sadistically. 

“Is that...” You leaned in to get a closer look. “1907 Heidsieck Monople Gout?” 

Chase shrugged. “You tell me. You’re the wine expert.” 

You’d heard many a conflicting story about the legendary 1907 Heidsieck. Some said as many as 2,000 bottles were pulled up from the depths of the freezing Baltic sea. Some said a single bottle could go for half a million dollars. With that kind of precedent, you never thought you’d ever have to worry about it. Yet, there it was. Right in front of you. 

“I’m saving it for a special occasion.” Chase said, suddenly reminding you where you were.

You returned to your gun. “For when you kill me?” 

“For when I save you.” Chase smiled, his unnaturally white teeth glistening in the sepia light. “See, Miss [F/N], you survived two of my attempts on your life. God has smiled down on you.” 

“Or, maybe,” You interrupted. “You’re just horrible at killing.” 

Chase raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

"A knife through the hand hurts like a bitch, but it isn't fatal." You shrugged. "And you didn't do a good enough job beating the fear of death out of Catherine. Else she might have actually gone through with it. Maybe if you'd sent Tiffany-"

"God loves you." Chase interrupted before you could poke more holes in his attempts on your life. "Why you're still alive when so many less deserving of death have died is beyond me, but god works in mysterious ways, doesn't he?"

"She sure does." You smirked.

Chase cleared his throat. You'd pegged him as the type to get irrationally angry at the implication of god being a woman, so his reaction surprised you.

"Well, let's get down to business, shall we?" He gestured to a seat across from him.

You narrowed your eyes. "I don't think so."

"Pity." He pouted. "Not even for poor Mr. Graham?"

It dawned on you that he probably still thought he had Will, and you could use it to your advantage.

You held your gun at your side and hesitantly sat down in the seat. A gluttonous smile spread across Chase's face.

"So it wasn't wine after all." He said. "It wasn't even your own life. You're only willing to save your soul for the sake of your precious Will Graham."

"What do you care?" You growled through your teeth. "This is just a power grab for you. You wouldn't know what genuine empathy for another person feels like."

He grinned, as if someone had just flipped his 'on' switch. "Jesus does."

"Did Jesus use his influence to lure teenage girls into a sick breeding ring?" You sneered. "I don't remember that from VeggieTales."

"Genesis 1:28." Chase said. "And God blessed them, and God said unto them, be fruitful, and multiply."

"I suppose you also don't eat shellfish or wear mixed fabrics." You rolled your eyes.

"It's always the same arguments from you atheists." Chase scoffed, adding a distinct bite to the last word. "When are you going to show some actual proof that the bible isn't an infallible model for human morality?"

"Maybe when you stop eating shellfish and wearing mixed fabrics." You repeated.

"They are minor sins at best." Chase grimaced. "I have gotten right with Jesus. You, on the other hand, oh, you. Your sins are weighty."

"I did just blast a rapist's head off." You admitted. "And it's going to be two very soon if this one doesn't get to the fucking point."

"I know about your exploits." He squinted. "With Mr. Graham and the man with the Nazi accent."

"He's actually from Lithuania, which, if you wanna be technical," you corrected, just for the sake of being annoying. "Is an ex-Soviet state, but whatever."

Chase tensed up at being corrected. "I know about your hedonistic sexual activities with two men, your exploration. But in the bible, Satan approaches these two people called Adam and Eve..."

"No he didn't." You shook your head. "It was a serpent. The devil wasn't a concept when Genesis was written."

Chase gritted his teeth. "God made one man and one woman. Each to fill each other's sexual desires, within the context of marriage, entirely-"

"But Adam had two spouses, didn't he?" You cocked your head and smiled. "Eve wasn't even the first woman in Adam's life. That was Lilith."

Chase heaved a frustrated sigh. "How do you know that?!"

"I was raised catholic." You said in the tonal equivalent of smacking him upside the head. "I was forced into religion at a young age and brainwashed to hate myself."

"See, that's where we agree." Chase tented his hands, thinking he found a genuine point of connection. "Organized religion is a cancer on society. Christianity is fundamentally about a relationship with god."

You laughed. It was the first real, good laugh you had in a while.

"Don't laugh." He scolded. "I am sorry that that was your experience with religion and that the Catholic church modeled a false teaching of who god is and what he wants. Not all christians-"

You wiped a tear from your eye. "Homie, you killed four people in front of me."

He placed his hand over his heart. "And christ forgave me. And he can forgive you too."

"Alright, this has been fun and everything," you said, standing up. You aimed your shotgun and cocked it. "But, I did come here to kill you, so, open wide."

Chase put his hand squarely over the barrel and pushed it out of the way. "You don’t have the guts to pull the trigger."

You pulled the trigger and blasted his hand clean off. Any hope of reattachment was shattered, as bits of his hand painted the walls and floor.

You opened the gun and let the two empty shells fall to the ground while Chase screamed in agony.

Instead of going through the motions of reloading, you smashed him over the head with the gun. He wrapped his good hand around the barrel and attempted to wrestle it away from you. You took this as an invitation to corner him against the wall with the still-hot barrel against his neck. He smashed his forehead into your nose, sending you tumbling backwards.

The shotgun fell to the ground. You pinched the bridge of your nose to control the blood flow. Chase wrapped a champagne towel around his stump and picked up a small revolver on his desk. He let off a shot, which lodged itself into your shoulder. By the time he let off the second shot, you were on the ground. The third shot didn't fire, just let out a flash and a bang.

"Goddamn blanks!" He cursed.

He tore open a drawer and rummaged around for bullets, giving you a window to come up from behind and gouge your fingers into his eyes. He screamed, dropping a handful of bullets. He flailed aimlessly, then charged backwards, slamming you into the cheap drywall.

He felt around for the bullets without the advent of eyesight. You knew you wouldn't be able to take aim with your shotgun with a bullet lodged in your shoulder, so you dove for the revolver.

Chase grabbed you by the ankle and dragged you down. You hit the floor with a thud, the collision making the bullets jump. Chase grinned, using the sound to place them. He turned around and reached for one, while you scooped up another that had rolled under the desk.

You scrambled to your feet. Chase's hand was just centimeters from the revolver. Thinking fast (but not so thoroughly), you grabbed for the revolver. You wrapped your hand around the barrel, putting yourself at a disadvantage if he fired off another blank.

Chase, however, wasn't that forward-thinking, and opted for a childish game of tug-of-war instead. Knowing he had the brute strength advantage, you waited for him to pull back and released your grip. Chase tumbled, cursing on his way down.

With no thought on your mind but ending this, you launched your foot into his sack, causing him to scream and drop the gun.

Just as you thought it was over, just when the gun was in arm's reach, he kicked your knees backwards and you fell. You swallowed the pain and army crawled for the revolver.

"I don't think so." Chase spat, smiling like a maniac. He grabbed your face with his good hand and his fingers slithered down your throat.

"Choke..." he demanded. "Choke, demoness."

Strengthened by animalistic instinct, you crushed his fingers under your teeth. The sound of snapping bone filled the inside of your head and a sudden rush of blood flooded into your mouth. He withdrew his hand, leaving a finger behind to limply fall down your throat.

You coughed and gagged while Chase screamed. A single bloody digit dislodged itself from your windpipe, flew across the room and landed on the desk.

Chase sputtered something resembling a laugh. "Maybe you're not such a dumb bitch after all."

You grabbed the gun and pushed yourself up with the help of the desk. The finger stared up at you as you loaded the single bullet.

You positioned the finger onto the trigger and guided it with your gloved hand. Then you aimed it at his forehead. Dead by his gun, by his trigger finger. Bleeding on the ground in his private bunker while the empire he built collapses around him. A coward's death. It was poetic enough an end as he deserved.

"You want to say a prayer before you meet god?" You offered.

"My soul is saved." Chase said through ragged breaths. "My place in heaven is secured."

Bang. One bullet, right between the eyes. A bloody fingerprint on the pistol. You dropped the revolver and collapsed. You just laid there, listening to your phone buzz.

[rekrappeter]

back in love || jj maybank

pairing: jj maybank x reader

summary: three years since he left, he comes knocking on your door 

warning: cursing || not proof read in the slightest oops

notes: i wrote this in about thirty minutes, just wanted to take my mind away from studying so i hope y’all enjoy. it’s quiet short and simple but hey, sometimes they turn out to be the best ones

masterlist ||

The first thing that gave it away was the whispers and sympathy stares that followed you around all day. Then it was the spontaneous phone call you got from your mother. Then finally, it was the knock on your door that confirmed it. You knew it was bound to happen, but that still didn’t ease the nauseous feeling in your stomach when you opened your red coloured door, leading to the porch that overlooked the marsh. 

Usually, when you opened the door at this time, you were met with a beautiful sunset that glistened orange sparkles on your face. You usually had a cup of brewing tea in your hand, or a cold beer. But this time, you were met with the face of that man that left you nearly three years ago. 

His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, that draped over a pair of swim shorts. His gaze was to the floor, his head hanging low, and you could tell how tense he was with how his jawline was popping. He still had the boyish features, his tousled blonde hair and little stumble decorating his upper lip. 

Seeing him didn’t release the nauseous feeling, it only exaggerated it. You’ve thought about this moment every night for three whole years; the most common scenario was slapping him across the face and slamming the door in his face. But when he stood there, it was as if the anger just fizzled away and you were left aimlessly looking for some explanation. Why did he leave the Island, why did he leave you? 

JJ finally gained the courage to lift his eyes to you, his heart aching at the sight of pain and sorrow washing over your expression. He was speechless, he had thought about this moment every minute that he was gone. He wanted nothing more to wrap his arms around you, bringing you as close as he can, and never letting go but there was barrier there now. That same wall he spent years knocking down was there again, this time even higher than before. 

He sucked in a deep breath, offering you a sad smile. He wasn’t surprised when you didn’t return it, your face blank. ‘Hey,’ his voice was nothing more than a whisper, an exhale. 

‘Hi,’ you replied, your heart fluttering at the sound of his voice. 

‘Can I come in?’ 

You shook your head, ‘I think it’s best if you don’t.’ 

‘Oh, okay,’ JJ muttered, fidgeting at a loose strand in the pocket of his hoodie. ‘How have you been?’

You couldn’t even work up the effect to roll your eyes at his question, only shrugging in response. It was like the world around you paused, you hadn’t noticed any of passer bys or the barks of dogs that echoed in the background. You only saw JJ, with the orange sky outlining his figure. 

‘Have you finished college?’ He questioned, pleading for any kind of reaction from you. 

‘I dropped out.,.’

‘Oh,’ JJ was taken back, knowing that you had dreamed of having a successful career. It was why you used to get so stressed out when it came around to exam season, it was something he always admired; you also kept him in school, forcing him to study with you. ‘I bet you had good reasons, I mean it’s never too late to-’

‘JJ, are you honestly going to stand here and give me a speech about going to college?’ You interrupted, this time rolling your eyes in annoyance. 

‘I guess not.’

‘You’re right. Now if you don’t mind, can you please leave?’ The pain in your chest was getting too much, watching him tip toe around the topic hurt you. You thought you deserved as much as an explanation. ‘That’s what you’re good at anyways.’

‘Hey, now that’s not fair,’ JJ retorted, standing up straight and bringing his shoulders back. 

‘No!’ You exploded, watching his eyes widen in shock at your outburst, ‘What’s not fair is the fact that you fuckin’ disappeared anf fucked off for no god damn reason, and if you’re not going to tell me why, then kindly fuck off’ 

JJ blinked rapidly, his face heating up but he was solemnly focused on the bundle of tears piling up on your bottom lashes. He wanted to reach out and take you in his arms but he knew it would just be met with a slap across the face. He never remembered you cursing, nevermind cursing multiple times in one sentence but he knew you were upset, you were right to be upset. He messed up.

‘Why did you come here? Why did you come back?’ You asked when your outburst was met with complete silence. 

‘I-I thought it was time.. to come back. I missed you- no, let me talk,’ JJ begged, shutting you down before you retaliated on his statement. ‘I never planned on leaving, you have to believe that. It was an impulsive decision.’

‘Yeah, one that lasted three bloody years.’

‘Y/N, let me talk!’ JJ pressed, running his hand down his face. You kept quieting, indicating for him to continue. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, your face stern but his eyes only softened and he took a deep breath. “The first thing you need to know is that I loved you, I still do love you. Every day I was gone, I only thought of you. Every time I rang one of the guys, the first thing I asked about was you. I missed you like hell, honestly, the hardest thing to do was stay away.’

‘Why did you?’ You only whispered, not trusting your voice. 

‘I planned on coming back earlier, but then I found out you started seeing people again. I thought you were finally getting your life back, that spark you always had. I didn’t want to ruin that,” JJ swallowed deeply, his eyes flickering around your face. 

‘You still haven’t told me why you left...’ 

‘All I ever wanted was for you to be happy... I couldn’t do that, we were falling apart, you were miserable-’

You shook your head in disbelief, letting out a dry chuckle. ‘You know, usually couples try work through their problems. Not run away from them.’

‘I was young and stupid,’

‘Very.’ 

‘But that night, I bumped into your mother in the store.’ JJ retorted, biting down on his bottom lip. Shock filled your features, and you uncrossed your arms, tucking them into your pockets, feeling exposed. Your brows creased in confusion, waiting for JJ to continue. ‘Sh-She begged me to leave you...’ 

‘No, no..’ You muttered, feeling the tears immediately releasing down your cheeks. 

‘Y/N, I’m sorry but we both wanted the same thing, we wanted you to be happy and successful and I was holding you back.’ 

‘You didn’t have the right to make that decision!’ You forced, pushing him back on his heels. JJ grabbed your wrists, watching your emotions take over you and you crashed into his chest, sobbing into his white t-shirt. He quickly wrapped you up in an embrace, feeling your chest heaving rapidly. ‘Why didn’t you speak to me?’ You sobbed.

‘I’m so sorry..’ JJ mumbled into your hair, and he continued to whisper it softly until your breathing calmed down and you were all cried out. You don’t know how long you stayed there for, the sun was long gone, the night’s stars decorating the sky. You weren’t sure if it was the concept of being back in JJ’s arms that made you not want to pull away or the idea of confronting your mother who pretended to be concerned for you following the departure of JJ. 

‘Do you want to come in?’ You finally spoke when you detached yourself from him, your eyes moving from the tear stain on his t-shirt to his face. He nodded slowly, walking in behind you. The feeling that washed over him made him dizzy, it was like he never left; he welcomed the familiar smell that brought along a powerpoint of memories he shared with you in this house. 

JJ followed you into the living room, taking a seat next to you when you returned from the kitchen with two beers in hand. He accepted one from you, knocking it back, releasing a sigh when the cold liquid lined his throat. 

‘How long are you back for?’ You asked, crossing your legs on the couch.

JJ coughed awkwardly twisting to face you, ‘I-I bought a one way ticket.’ 

You tried to hide the twitch of a smile, knowing that you and JJ were nearly two completely different people from when you were teenagers. ‘So, you’re back for good?’

‘Yep, that’s the plan anyways...’ An awkward atmosphere surrounded the pair of you, you kept stealing glances at him and he was doing the same. It felt strange being back in his presence, but the love you once held for him was still there. You weren’t sure if it was ever going to go away. He still looked at you with the same soft eyes, a look of adoration that never faltered. 

As the night went on, the laughter increased and it was like he never disappeared. One beer turned to three, which ultimately led to being a bottle of your mother’s best wine. It wasn’t until you were laying on your couch, your legs draped over JJ’s knees and your eyes were drooping closed that JJ took that as his queue to leave. He lifted your legs from his and got up from the couch, pulling the blanket from the back of it to cover you. 

JJ watched you for a moment, your face calm and relaxed. He leaned down, placing a kiss on your forehead and the feeling of your fingers wrapping around his wrist startled him. ‘JJ?’ You whispered, peeking your eyes open seeing him hovering over you. ‘Please don’t leave me again.’

‘I promise I won’t, we can speak tomorrow.’ JJ replied, but he haltered any movements when you shook your head.

‘Don’t leave me tonight, stay.’

‘You sure?’ He asked, but he was already kicking off his sneakers and climbing underneath the light blanket. The heat of your body wrapped around him, welcoming him as he wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you as close as he can. He squeezed you tightly, causing you to giggle. 

Raising your hand to brush across his face, you missed being this close to him, feeling his breathe fawning over your face. His eyes were drooping, just like yours but you could still see the sparkle in them, the happiness. He leaned his forehead against yours, breathing in your scent. ‘I missed this’ You broke the silence, feeling the vibration of his humming against yours cheek. 

You unconsciously brought your lips to his and he lazily leaned into the kiss. His eyes fluttered completely closed, as you insisted on deepening the kiss, bringing your tongue into his mouth. He never forgot what your kisses felt like, every night he imagined you laying there with him. Every night he dreamt of kissing you again. This didn’t even feel like real life right now, having you back in his arms. 

His fingers caressed your jaw, running them through your hair and pulling you even closer. The sound of the kiss echoed around the living room, but all he could hear was the beating of his heart and the blood rushing through his veins. You pulled away, breathing heavy. You took a moment to tell him how much you missed him before bringing your lips back to his. Welcoming the thought of spending the rest of the night like this. 

pls gimme feedback

[streets-in-paradise]

Fool

Troy Reader Insert Oneshot 

Word Count: 1.187

Pairing: ( Pre War) Paris x Healer Reader

Genre: Fluff with some funny elements.

Warnings: None

Summary: The reader is the daughter of the most famous healer of the city, a friend of the royal family, and she has a long time crush on Paris. He never seemed to be interested on her untill she returns from a long trip she made with her mother and his ways around her start to change. She doesn’t want to let him know that she reciprocates his feelings because she is afraid of getting hurted. Instead of being disencouraged, Paris keeps chazing her even to the cost of making a fool of himself. 

Disclaimers: This is for @spideyanakin​ , who asked me for a Paris x Reader just at the same time i was plotting the idea. This is slyghtly inspired in a less grimm approach for the story of Paris and Oenone. Since in the legends she is a ninph who knows a lot about healing, here the reader is a healer but that’s all. The backstory is invented by me and this is in Troy’s universe so i had to go for a human character for the reader. Also, there is a small reference to another reader insert of mine. I kinda connected everything accidentally. 

Tags: @yerevasunclair​ @hrisity12​ 

 The most remarkable trojan healer and her daughter returned from a long trip to Egypt. They were away from their homeland for almost a year, received under the goodwill of cultural exchange between nations as experts in the most notorious aspect of cultural development of their city. King Priam threw a party in honour of their return, he was absolutely pleased with the outcome of the trip as well. The celebration was esplendid. They were the center of attention and they got plenty of time to share their stories about the magnificent experience of sharing knowledge with people of such a glorious civilization. The young lady was a bit more unused than her mother to those sorts of travels, since it was the first one she ever joined her in one. She had a lot of amazing details to tell about her first trip. During the party,she felt slightly strange after noticing she was being the focus of all the stares. She was dressed in egyptian fashion, with garments that were gifted to her by the pharaohess herself. Everyone asked her about it and her old friend, the princess, recommended her to relax and enjoy the well deserved attention. 

  She started to feel in the mood for it only when she noticed a particular person staring at her. Paris, the youngest prince and her long time crush, seemed to be in awe while glancing at her. She was aware of the rumours about him, claiming he was an insatiable seductor, but she couldn’t help to feel a bit of weakness around him even after all the time that passed. She was used to being seen by him as only a friend of his little sister and that was his usual attitude with her. He never displayed any form of interest, not in the way in which he was usually seen chasing other girls. Then, after a year of not seeing him, he was looking at her like if she was an entirely different person. It was the way in which she always wanted to be seen by him. The soft stare of his brown eyes set on her with admiration and curiosity, as if he was trying to figure out who she was even when they already knew each other. 

  He didn’t approach her directly that night, probably because his sister was keeping an eye on him, guessing what he wanted to do, and he didn’t want to upset her. Paris’s interest became obvious during the first week of work she had in the houses of healing. Since she came back and assumed the position that was destined to her there the prince started inventing excuses to show up. Those started as quasi logical requests and became insanely ridiculous over time. A headache, a stomach ache, lack of sleep, a scraped leg,anything seemed like a good reason to look for the healers, expecting to be attended by her.

“ Paris, you can’t keep doing this. You will get me into trouble.” she warned him when he saw him coming for the eighth time in six days. 

“ Why?  You are fulfilling your duty of watching over my health. I require your delicate touch because I am a more delicate man than my brother and you have the softest hands on the kingdom.”  He replied innocently, glancing at her with his sweetest expression. 

“ You are not sick. Everybody knows it already.” 

“ It could be something on the inside. I could be dying.” He exaggerated 

“ You know? It is curious how in this week I have seen you more often than I ever did.” 

“Isn’t that proof of how serious i am? I feel terrible, I could faint anytime” 

“ Or maybe you just decided to notice that i exist?” She replicated, showing her annoyance. 

   Paris passed the threshold of the door and sat directly over a table she was using. He looked at her like a lost puppy while getting in the middle of her work, showing how desperate for attention he was. 

“ Do you really have such a low concept of me? I have always been fond of you. Now I just happened to discover a different side of you I crave to keep knowing… I also have an insufferable pain on my shoulders.”  

“ Archery lesion?” 

“ You will have to see it for yourself..” He teased her.

He didn’t give her time to start checking before pulling off the upper section of his garments, displaying his shoulders and back and trying to be seductive about it. 

“ You are dumber than what I remembered.”  She mocked him. 

“ But you remember me and that’s enough.”  He replied, smiling pridefully. 

She started to examine the area being very careful with her touching. At some point, Paris did an obvious acting, pretending to be in pain. 

“ You are a terrible actor and a fool. Luckly for you, I have a weakness for fools. What do you really want from me?” 

“ Some of your attention to ask you out and maybe a back massage?” He suggested in a clumsy attempt of honesty. 

“ I didn’t spend a year studying with egyptian healers to end up giving you back massages like a common caretaker. Look for another fool.” 

“ I am not fooling you.” He reassured her.” You are right, I’m a fool. I had seen you around my sister since you were little girls sharing your firsts lessons and i didn’t pay enough attention. I saw you at that party and I lost my mind over you. Maybe I needed enough time without seeing you to realize what I was missing.” 

“ I bet you had said nice things like that to every girl in the city at least twice. I would like to, but i don’t believe you.” She simply stated.

Instead of disencourage him, her reply made him get more determination.

“ You don’t do it now , but you will someday. I’m not a quitter, I will keep trying until you will be entirely convinced of how you had enraptured my heart since that night in which I saw you dressed like a foreigner goddess… What’s the name of the egytpian goddess of love?” 

She chuckled. That was what she liked the most about him, his clumsy humour and his positivity. 

“ Hathor. ”  She corrected him. 

“ Well, you are more beautiful than her and I have been blinded by my stupidity. Can you forgive a fool and give him another chance?” 

She remained silent for a while. The sweet bliss of Paris’s face as he waited full of hope was killing her. Internally, all she wanted to do was to kiss his perfect lips and hush his fears of rejection. At the same time, she didn’t want to leave things so easy for him. She gave him a short peck over the commissure of his lips. Short enough to tease him and confusive enough to make him doubt if she really tried to go for his cheek or his mouth. His confusion was evident and she thought it was the most adorable thing in the world.

“ Put in a bit more effort and i may consider it.” 

[himbeaux-on-ice]

absolutely brutal news on Patch.

[gar-trek]

no i care about ur tng s1 opinions !!

Well anon since you asked..... (imagine we are hiking together, lol :)

Alright... season one of TNG... well... it wasn’t great. In fact, if it was not a Star Trek show, I’m not sure I would have gotten through it at all. Now I'm not saying that I hated it, in fact there was plenty that i did actually like. But overall it just kinda boring and it was hard to really get into it. Sometimes mediocracy is a worse then just being flat out bad, ya know? To keep things comprehensive, since half of this was written in an RV and the other half is written whilst im on 3 hours of sleep, lets put my review into a nice list of things i did not like, and things i did about season one of TNG

The bad:

-I have talked about this before, but I think my main issue with TNG so far is the extremely awkward vibe it has. Shots linger way too long after characters are done talking. the jokes do not hit most the time. the dialogue is often stilted and awkward. The characters just do not feel real to me at all. It's just very very strange. I don't know if its a problem with the writing, the directing or the producing, or maybe just all three, but overall shit is just awkward all the time. I wish the charecters felt more real. Like yeah, maybe we didn't see much of Sulu in TOS, but they still managed to make him a guy you could imagine yourself meeting at a bar or whatever. what am i gonna go have some drinks with fuckin season 1 William Riker?? Nah, wtf is that bitches motivations and aspirations ?? that he wants to be captain and has blue eyes ?? what i am trying to say is that nothing feels real and no smart ass not because its a fictional sci-fi show, but because the characters all act super weird or literally just do nothing.

-Picard. I’m kind of turning the corner here but like... he just doesn’t do it for me as captain. I feel like since he’s the captain that makes him the “””””main character”””” and yet... what does Picard do? He’s just kinda boring. Like the man doesn’t even always bean down to the planet or whatever. And you guys already know my thoughts on his relationship with Wes... yeah :/ so no, I don’t hate Picard, I just kinda hate that he’s the captain.

-Where is the action ? Am I an old white male boomer for wishing TNG had a little more tits out violence like TOS did. I mean where is the punching? Where is the redshirt deaths and photon torpedos and shit. I need more violence, and I know that’s like, opposite of the message of Star Trek but dammit... more violence!

-Every single thing that happened to Tasha Yar in Skin of evil. I know you know :/ we all know. :/ and mini rant but in the beginning of that episode Worf and Tasha had a cute little moment and I actually thought “wow they would make a good couple actually or at least best buds” but.. well you know :/ too bad. Also I feel like they spent a lot of time trying to set up Tashas backstory and she actually had something interesting going on so like.... again too bad I guess :/

*cough cough*

anyway, here is what i did like:

-despite their awkwardness i do think some of the characters are neat. Geordi has to be my favorite, he just brings such a good vibe to the crew and I think the whole concept of his character is really interesting. I like Worf but I still feel like we don’t get enough Worf time and of course I like Data, tbh I never disliked him but he definitely grew on me more as I watched. Data does have the tendency to make me cringe... but like in the way your weird lovable friends do. And of course Wes, who deserves so much better then all the dumb ass situations they write for him.

-I think they do a good job of making it feel like the Star Trek universe without just copying everything they did in TOS. like its super different from TOS in a lot of ways, but still it feels like the same universe, and maybe even a little more true to the universe. like the prime directive thing is taken a lot more seriously, same with the federation not wanting to resort to violence right away, all that star trek jazz. its still there, its still trek.

-they don't do a bunch of annoying pandering. i feel like nowadays when they come out with remakes or spin-offs or whatever they always have to have a million callbacks like "hey remember this thing you loved?? here it is again exactly the same" because like yeah that is easy and it more fail-proof. like they could have just stuck a vulcan in the main cast, don't tell me you wouldn't have gotten Spock brain and just ate that shit up, but they were like nah and tried new stuff instead. and i respect that. because the callback episode they did do (naked now) kinda fuckin sucked. so good for them for trying to forge their own path.

okay anyway those are my general thoughts. More specifically, here are the epsidoes i think were the very worst

- Encounter at Fairpoint (literally the first episode and i kept checking my watch wondering when it would be over. it should not have been a 2 parter that was way too long. Q was annoying as hell. the main plot was not that interesting. )

- Where No One Has Gone Before (very tedious and hard to sit through. "oh we traveled too far into space.... oh we did it again! haha lol!" boring. did not like that Traveler guy sus as hell.... hated that Picard only made Wes and Ensign after the Traveler said Wes was important.)

-Skin of Evil (dumb stupid dumb)

-The Nuteral Zone ( i dont even want to get into this. i actually think this one stunk the worst and it was the last episode. so many things wrong)

annnnddd the episodes i liked!

- The Last Outpost (Ferengi Ferengi Ferengi Ferengi )

-Haven (how can you not love Lwaxana Troi this episode made me genuinely laugh so many times. lots of very good character moments here)

-Angle One (i really liked the concept of male wife girl boss society i thought it was funny and interesting)

-Conspiracy (i felt like this one actually kept me on my toes. also liked when that dude's head exploded)

annndddd that about sums it up people! was that a comprehensible review? no. was it long? yes. feel free to disagree with me or fight it out in the comments. what are your least favorite episodes from season one? do you agree with my takes here? let me know

[whitherliliesbloom]

a setting star, a rising sun

[ ffxivwrite2020 ] ★ [ my writings ] [ prompt #14 - part ]

[ ardbert & wol ] ★ [ 1,411 words ] ★ [ 5.3 spoilers ]

azem centric. ardbert and illya centric. mentions hythlodaeus and emet-selch. 

‘an amount or section which, when combined with others, makes up the whole of something.’

the color of your souls tells the tale

Of what hue does your soul shine?

The voice echoes like ripples on still water within this chamber, whose only audience was the emptiness around it. And yet it reached out into the dark desperately, and grabbed hold of the sole source of light that it could find and clutched it tightly onto its chest. 

A broken soul wished with all its might, onto the memories of its fallen brethren and let out a cry of defiance in the dark. And it swore, even until the end and even beyond, that its soul will keep fighting. That it swears - not even death will it allow their will and determination die out.

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

The peculiarity of Illya’s dreams have grown increasingly more vivid and strange lately. No longer did she find herself jolting up in the middle of the night in cold sweat, but she wouldn’t exactly describe those dreams to be pleasant either.

Thought provoking would be an apt way of describing them - dreams that would leave the young woman sitting up on the bed, eyes dazed as they stared up onto the ceiling in solemn contemplation. Accompanied by a tinge of regret at her prematurely waking up before she could fully comprehend the meaning behind her dreams, there would be confusion, awe.. and a strange melancholy that hasn’t washed away since Emet-Selch’s passing.

Or perhaps that melancholy has always been present within her. She just hadn’t realized it until recently.

As she sat up on her bed and pushed the bangs of her hair away from her eyes, she’d glanced out the window upon the still dark morning sky, though obscured naught by a single black cloud. And in the horizon, she sees the light in the dark - the crystal tower. A living beacon that served as proof of all that she’s been through - all that they’ve been through.

Her dream had been of Ardbert, this time.. of the familiarity that was his company, and the warmth his soul brought to her as they reunited as one.

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

“I’ve always wondered, Illya..” 

“Wondered...? About what?” 

The starry night sky that hung above Lakeland wasn’t quite enough comfort for Ardbert to be able to allow himself to rest for the night - not that he would truly be able to. He’d all but forgotten the concept of being hungry and tired since he’d become a wandering spirit. But the point still stood that something bothered him enough to feel the need to speak and keep his only companion from getting the rest she well deserved.

He’d gazed out the window, before turning back to walk to her bedside, and Illya props herself up onto her elbows as courtesy when he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Why is it that you feel so familiar to me?”

Illya’s eyes widen at the suddenness of his question, and though Ardbert was quick to chuckle and attempt to shake his thoughts off, she let out a hum in response.

“It may seem strange.. but I’ve always felt the same way too.”

The man glances back, and even in the absence of a lamplight, she could see his lips pulled agape in surprise. 

“Really? You do?”

“Well.. not exactly in the same way you would think of an old friend.” The twelve knows that they most definitely hadn’t met on good terms, even if it had been a matter of circumstances and misunderstandings. “But it’s more like.. I don’t feel uneasy around you.”

“Well, I would hope you didn’t! You’re the only person I have to talk to, you know.” Ardbert jests with a playful smile, and Illya’s brows furrow with a puff of her cheeks.

“T-that’s not what I meant.” 

Illya didn’t exactly enjoy being teased, not by Ardbert and his boisterous laughter, no less.. But it was a welcome respite from the perils of the life she’s committed herself to, life as the Warrior of Darkness. 

“Nah, I get you.” She hears him huff. Raising a hand up, Ardbert let his palm rest against the top of head, or at least where he believed his hand would be had he a corporeal form. There’s a tinge of regret and sadness when she fails to feel the weight of his hand upon her head, but she manages to smile nonetheless at the comfort his words brought. “It’s the familiarity of something beyond what we understand.. beyond what we can explain. Just as I wonder if there is yet a place for me in this world, perhaps there is a reason behind our meeting.”

Had that not been the very same words he’d said to her before? That fate must have surely pulled them together and entwined their stories, when they of two separate worlds were never meant to meet in the first place. That if there is a reason why he’d endured for as long as he has, it must be a reason that was worth fighting for too. 

But he utters those words to her now not with contempt or doubt, but with a sincerity that she believes in and returns in a hundred folds. 

“It’s weird how well we understand each other.” Illya murmurs, and she can still remember the chuckle Ardbert had let out.

“Really? It feels right to me.”

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

She couldn’t quite understand Hythlodaeus’ words when she’d heard them, when Ardbert had been present beside her to hear of the ancient being’s speak of their souls.

“In our time, the two of you were one.”

And if she had to be honest, she still cannot claim to fully understand what it was that man.. that being who had called her a friend had wanted her to realize. Hythlodaeus felt familiar - just as Ardbert had.. just as the city of Amaurot had.. and it brought her no small amount of trepidation and fear right until her confrontation with Emet-Selch. 

Hades.. even as he stood opposed to her, felt familiar. The darkness and cries of his people felt so familiar that it shook her to her core. And it’d frightened her, almost to the point of inaction.

“Take it. We fight as one.” 

Ardbert knew. She’d realized that the moment he took the axe upon his back and held it out to her. His words were almost a mirror of Hythlodaeus, and in his final moments he’d looked at her with a familiarity that spoke of an unending love and hope.. one that resided within the core of who she was. Within his eyes, she saw the world he did.. and when his soul had merged with hers, it felt as if every emotion, every little joy, sadness and pain Ardbert had endured on his journey had become a part of her.

His strength was her own to wield, and it was he who gave her the courage to confront that familiarity headlong. 

She never did get to ask him after what it was that he meant, was robbed of the chance to even say goodbye as his consciousness faded and bled into her soul. 

But she didn’t have to. 

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

Azem’s crystal sat on her bedside table, still emitting its faint orange hue and warmth that Illya could only describe as being nostalgic and melancholic. She takes her time to rise from the bed and get herself dressed, ridding the tangles in her hair with deliberately slow strokes with a brush. 

Illya looks upon her reflection in the mirror, of the woman she can scarce recognize, and yet a visage that feels familiar and right all the same. And within her own eyes, she finds the courage to finally reach out and grab Azem’s crystal... her crystal, and tucks it safely away into her breast pocket, where it would sit closest to her heart. 

Dawn arrives and bathes Eorzea in a warm orange glow. The day is greeted by the rising of the sun above the horizon, its rays of light peeking up as if to tease her, to urge her to action. And soon, the stars will fade, as will the life and memories she’d left behind.

Were Ardbert here, would he have chosen the same?

Illya berates herself for the foolish question, daring herself to step outside with a confident smile upon her face. She already knows his answer, because it has and always will be the same as hers.

I won’t bid you farewell. Your story.. our story hasn’t ended yet. 

[glenngaylord]

Glenn Gaylord’s Capsules From The Bunker – Summer 2021 Lockdown Style

Like many of you, I’ve lost all concept of space and time during this lockdown era. I’d watch movie after movie, but somehow forget to write about them. I’d consume films for sustenance, but then I’d move on to the next task of cleaning a room, doing a crossword puzzle, or staring at my dog for hours on end. Thank goodness I have a few friends to have breakfast with every now and then, or else I’d have assumed I had been transported to a cabin in Montana. “Am I a film critic or a hermit?” I’d ask myself daily…that is, if I even understand what days are anymore. All of this is to say that I have a lot of catching up to do now that we’ve taken a baby step or two towards returning to some sense of normalcy. Wait a minute. What’s that? Highly transmissible variants? Back into the cave I go. While I still can, I’ve managed to blurt out a few capsule reviews of some films worth mentioning.

In Between Gays – Film Review: Summer Of 85 ★★★★

Prolific French filmmaker, François Ozon, has made a career out of finding dark crevices in the most unexpected of places. Here, with Summer Of 85, he tweaks this New Wave era gay romance just enough to upend our expectations. In pure Talented Mr. Ripley meets Call Me By Your Name meets Luca fashion, Ozon spins what could have been that sun-dappled, seaside summer that changed everything into a love that perhaps never was, zeroing in instead on a young man’s obsession for something unobtainable. Beautifully shot and acted, Ozon takes the story to more provocative places than you’d initially expect while still maintaining the boppy fizz of a great Cure song. Despite the mish mash of tones, the film has a pulse all of its own. It’ll make you swoon, pull the rug out from under you, and then make you wonder how he managed to quietly get a little twisted.

Summer Of 85 currently in select theaters, see official website for details. Released on DVD and BluRay August 17th.

Truffle In Mind – Film Review: Pig ★★★★

Writer-director Michael Sarnoski makes an auspicious feature debut with the story of a man searching for his stolen truffle-hunting pig. Caked in dirt, blood and looking not so much like a homeless man but as a person who died inside a thousand times over, Nicholas Cage gives one of his best performances ever as a man who seeks the truth at all costs. He asks his only connection to the outside world, Amir, played wonderfully by Alex Wolff, to drive him through Portland’s dark underbelly to retrieve his pet companion.

Although the film takes us to a rather unbelievable “Fight Club” moment, it generally holds its mood with credibility. It’s a great calling card, not only for Sarnoski, but also for his talented cinematographer Patrick Scola, who brings a painterly quality to every single image. The film finds beauty in a bite of food, a breath of air, or simply the compassion between two main characters who have seemingly little in common. It’s a shame the trailer elicits laughs when Cage utters lines like, “Who has my pig?” Clearly they want to sell the actor’s neo-gonzo persona, but Cage brings so much depth and seriousness to this project, only raising his voice once. He deserves the highest praise for committing to such an oddly touching, gorgeously quiet story. At risk of sounding Dad-jokey, the only thing that hogs the scenery is his porcine friend.

Pig is in theaters now.

All Is Lost – Film Review: Old ★★

In 1999, M. Night Shyamalan made a great film, The Sixth Sense, and has been chasing that dragon ever since, often to diminishing returns. His films, however, often do well because he has great concepts, a keen eye for visuals and timing, yet things always seem to turn clunky and inane real fast. With Old, he continues down that path by giving us something compelling—a group of people on a beach who age quickly—and ruining it with dialogue seemingly written by an algorithm and rendered unintelligible much of the time, while the terrific cast seem to have no idea how to make Shyamalan’s words sound any better than a high school play. A couple of sequences did make me sit up and take notice, and he uses compositions and offscreen space well, but overall, Old plays like a stretched-out episode of Lost, and like that cool but overstuffed series, you’re not gonna get very good explanations as to what transpires. Sure, the big twist works well enough on some level, but it doesn’t save you from the discomfort of watching good actors flatline in more ways than one.

Old is currently in theaters nationally.

Hi Fidel-ity – Film Review: Revolution Rent ★★★1/2

Shot in 2014, Andy Señor Jr., who played Angel on Broadway along with a host of other credits, staged the classic musical Rent in Havana during a thaw in our relations with the Communist regime. He did so against the wishes of his Cuban family, who suffered under Castro and insisted his production would merely serve as a propaganda tool for the government. He plows ahead instead, capturing the months long process in a rather artless home movie style. The aesthetics don’t carry any weight here when you have such a compelling subject matter. Witnessing his actors struggling with their performances while also living in harsh conditions adds new layers to the late Jonathan Larson’s story of squatters in the age of AIDS.

With a limited talent pool, one of whom doesn’t feel comfortable with the gay subject matter and another who lives with HIV himself, Señor finds new connections to Larson’s material as well as an affection for his heritage. What we may have taken for granted here in the US in terms of sexuality and gender expression feels like a whole new experience when seen through a Cuban lens. Señor speaks out against the Castros with quick sequences showing moments of oppression, thus preventing this film from perpetuating the lies of its government. Instead, he gifts the people of this poor, struggling country with a real sense of community and its first burst of musical theater in ages. Sure he’s a privileged westerner who dangles hope in front of people only to return to his cushy life, but he does so with heart and good intentions. You end up loving and rooting for his cast in this moving, sweet documentary.

Revolution Rent is currently streaming on HBO Max.

Do The Hustlers – Film Review: Zola ★★★★

Call me wary when I went to see a movie based on a viral twitter thread and directed by Janicza Brava, whose Sundance Award-winning short, Gregory Go Boom, proved to be not only tone deaf but downright offensive towards people with disabilities. Her new film, Zola, excels however, in ways her prior work has not. Taylour Paige, a standout in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, plays the title character, a stripper who meets Stefani (Riley Keough) one night and is convinced to travel with her down to Florida where they can make a lot of money dancing all weekend. Things, however, do not go as planned, with Zola’s story escalating from one insane twist after another. Paige and Keough are outstanding, as are Nicholas Braun and Colman Domingo as their traveling companions. Jason Mitchell, so great in Straight Outta Compton and Mudbound, brings a wild, dangerous energy, something he shares with the film itself. It comes across as The Florida Project meets Hustlers, but with its own surreal, unexpected tone. I laughed out loud often, especially with Paige’s loopy reactions to her surroundings and the giddy, zippy energy on display. Zola chews you up, twerks on your face, and spits you out, exhausted yet anxious to see whatever this talented group of people will do next.

Zola is currently playing in select theaters and available on demand.

Banned On The Run – Film Review: There Is No Evil ★★★★

It’s impossible to review There Is No Evil without giving away its central premise, so I will avoid as much description as possible. Iranian filmmaker Mohammad Rasoulof has crafted a four-part anthology of sorts around an agonizing moral issue important to people worldwide. At the end of the first part, a stunning cut to an unforgettable visual reveals everything and allows you to watch the rest with informed eyes. Rasoulof seamlessly excels at different genres, from family drama, to action escape, to romance, weaving a tale of such depth and sorrow for its talented cast of characters.

The making of it proves as interesting at the film itself. Banned by the regime from producing feature films for two years and prohibited from traveling outside of Iran, Rasoulof, like any crafty filmmaker, came up with an ingenious plan. He slipped under the radar by calling these four short films, mostly shot in small towns far outside the reach of Tehran, and then had the final product smuggled out of the country. A filmmaker with such talent not only at telling stories, but the with ability to will his vision into existence against all odds, deserves the world’s attention.

There Is No Evil is available on DVD, BluRay and VOD now.

In Space No One Can Hear You Think – Film Review: F9: The Fast Saga ★★★

Considered review-proof, the Fast and the Furious franchise has ruled the box office for the past 20 years, so my calling its latest entry, F9: The Fast Saga, monumentally dumb will have zero influence on anyone’s decision to see it. We all know it’s big and stupid, as do the filmmakers. These films, deliver said stupid with such gusto, that you simply surrender and have a great time nonetheless. Nothing, however, prepared me, for this series to go all Moonraker, sending a car to a place no car has ever gone before. You’ll know it when you see it and probably say, “That’s ludicrous!” and also say, “That’s Ludacris!”

F9: The Fast Saga is currently playing on every screen on Earth and in select theaters throughout the universe.

[johannesviii]

So I guess I’m hyperfixating on Death Stranding at the moment

And since I’ve finally finished the story after playing it for like 100 hours over the course of seven months or so I guess I have Opinions(tm) about things I didn’t like in the game

They’re eating at my brain so I’m gonna put them all in a single post to get them out of my system once and for all so I can enjoy the rest in peace

Spoilers, obviously

Hi welcome back to ‘Johannes is obsessing over yet another video game with horror elements in it’! I guess!!

Our latest entry in that category was Until Dawn but since UD can be played in like 6/7 hours and I spent 100 hours of my life on DS, as you can guess we’re talking about a full-blown hyperfixation, the kind that physically hurts because I can’t focus on anything else even after having finished the storyline

But it was super gradual. Again, seven months. I barely made any progress from December to May because I was only doing side-deliveries at the beginning of Chapter 3 instead of... you know... advancing the plot. It became an honest-to-god special interest about two months ago, then 6 days ago while playing chapter 10 it reached hyperfixation levels and now I am in PAIN

I hate my brain

Anyhow

At first I wanted to list the good and the bad hings in it but there’s too many good things to list them all in full, excruciatingly long details, so

Very Quick And Very Incomplete List Of Good Things That I Love

It’s a post-apo game based on travel, logistics, and good will, and it straight up goes AGAINST the whole ‘survival of the fittest’ trope that SO MANY post-apo things try to push!! YES

I insist but it’s built on helping each other and keeping everyone alive, seriously that is my shit right there!

The online community is wholesome?? People leave stuff everywhere, you never see anyone but people put little helpful signs and send you likes, and in my game we almost managed to repair all the roads together

There’s so many new & strange allergies and disabilities and phobias in this post-apo world and? nobody is trying to ““fix”“ anyone?? Like Heartman with his padded floor and his little box that brings him back to life constantly. He’s just... living like that. Nobody’s going “hey maybe you should get another heart operation buddy”

The hero and his phobia of being touched. I. Loved. That. The quiet scenes when he was just talking with Fragile, sitting next to her. In any other context this would just be two people sitting next to each other and talking but it always feels so soft and intimate everytime he allows another human being to just. be next to him. I love it. I love them

Everyone crying constantly because of chiral allergy!!

I loved all the important characters bar one (Bridget/Amelie)!

Why is this walking simulator so enjoyable why am I enjoying the fact that holding L2 + R2 while walking feels like holding your backpack and that you have to relax at times just like you’d have to if you were actually holding a backpack

Seriously. Why

The atmosphere was so great, the music was fantastic and the visuals were on point. A E S T H E T I C

The ghosts!! The giant Beached Things!!! Chiral crystals look! like! creepy hands reaching for the SKY!!

THE RAIN DESTROYS THINGS AND KILLS PEOPLE BY ACCELERATING TIME THIS IS SO COOL SHUT UP

Everytime the game got surreal it was electrifying

THE SURREAL WAR SCENES ON CLIFF’S BEACH

Everyone is using emojis

There’s guys addicted to delivering packages in that game and they’re trying to steal our stuff and we’re like “haha they’re dumb” but we’re basically addicted to delivering packages as the player. So yeah that was pretty fun

Terrorists thinking humanity isn’t going extinct fast enough and wanting to just rip the bandaid and speed things up. Simple but effective concept

People ask for SUPER VITAL ITEMS right next to completely trivial stuff and I’m LIVING for it. “Please fetch my toy dinosaur”. I feel you dude

The most isolated characters are like "LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THIS THING I LIKE" in your emails because they haven't had contact with other humans in years, it's super relatable

There’s a farm where people use the fact that Timefall rain accelerates time to grow food super quickly in one (1) Timefall and harvest everything just before it starts to die and I LOVE that detail of worldbuilding so much

YOU’RE FIGHTING BEACHED THINGS WITH YOUR OWN BODILY FLUIDS IT’S SO STUPID BUT ALSO SO COOL?? I love yeet-ing my own blood at eldritch entities

THE T W I S T S

All the fanservice (bar one detail that I’m gonna complain about later) is on dudes. This game reeeeeeally likes to show dudes naked or somewhat naked. Mostly the main character but this mocap also L O V E S Mads Mikkelsen and there’s a shit ton of homoerotic shots in there

I love Sam the antisocial papa wolf delivery man and if someone touches him or his baby again, I will cry

LOU. LOU LOU LOU PRECIOUS BABY I’D DIE FOR YOU. Wait I did

I love Fragile and how brave she is and how she keeps helping people even if most of them wrongly think she’s a terrorist and yes I will eat this cryptobiote thank you

I love soft science boi Heartman who keeps dying again and again and is a bit too much interested in bodily fluids

I love garbage man Higgs and how complex, funny and still somewhat tragic this memelord actually turned out to be in the end

Seriously I want to stop fixating on this character but you can’t give me YET ANOTHER character who wants to die but at the hands of someone else, that is unfair to do that right after my fixation on the new Doctor Who Master

So yeah Higgs is yet another character who makes me want to grab him by the lapels and shake him and yell WHY! ARE! YOU! LIKE! THIS! STOP! BEING! LIKE! THIS!!

Cliff broke all three of my feelings beautifully and in excruciatingly well-acted scenes that transcended the sometimes lackluster dialogue

John made me cry during That Scene

Mama your background was tragic and terrifying and you didn’t deserve any of this shit and I love you

Deadman was more funny than anything, really, but I still liked him even if he had no sense of personal space whatsoever and it clashed horribly with Sam’s phobias

The ending had some sad parts but was mostly positive, thank goodness

Now I’m gonna explain things I dislike and this looks long but it’s actually only 5 main things so I bolded them to avoid confusion

Things I really disliked (and could have been handled wayyyy better)

We all know it but Kojima isn’t a master of subtlety and some parts of the dialogue kept repeating the same informations again and again AND AGAIN and I was like “ok ok I get it”

The dialogue can be so bad at times seriously

Kojima is a bad writer there I said it

It was particularly annoying with Amelie/Bridget and the fact she’s a horrible person trying (and failing) to justify her actions wasn’t helping

Bridges protocols are incredibly intrusive. All of them. I know it’s framed as bad and Sam hates being spied on all the time and in the end he destroys the device that does that, but I wish someone else would openly criticise it in-game

I guess Deadman sort of did but still

Also I know the whole BB technology was Bridget’s idea, and since she’s the actual villain it’s framed as a twisted, evil thing during the ending, but I wish that had been framed like that much earlier ; a lot of Bridges employees just... seem to accept the idea that their employer is using premature babies and their dead mothers as useful, if disturbing, devices. They seem to justify it by “uh we stole that technology from terrorists” to try to cope with the idea but... yeah.

I mean, one of the points being made very early on is that Sam sees his BB as his child who must be protected at all costs instead of a detection device, but I really wish he wasn’t the only one to object to that thing

Again, the game DOES frame "using babies and their dead mothers as tools” as evil and twisted, I just wish it was given a lot more weight and way sooner

Now let’s talk about the Token Straight(tm) in this game

In any other kind of context it would be a joke! But Death Stranding literally has a Token Straight Guy!

I mean, there IS a few hetero couples among the Preppers. Not a lot, mind you. Like, there’s the Montaineer and his wife for instance. But they’re just there and it’s not what their side plot is about

No I’m talking about this piece of shit right there

This f█cking Junk Dealer guy complains the girl he loves is dead because of Bridges and emotionally blackmails us by sending us old holograms of her before her supposed death (somewhat disturbing holograms too because she looks... pretty young in them), then he sends us on what’s essentially a suicide mission in a BT infested zone, THEN when we give him proof she’s still alive and living in another bunker nearby, he won’t go there himself to check??

But SHE’s like “ok, bring me to him, then!”

He doesn’t deserve you, girl

I’ve already seen several people pointing out that carrying a woman as cargo on your back is... debatable at best and sexist at worst, but that part didn’t really bother me to be honest? She asked to be carried to him and it’s her choice. She was talking to us the entire way too, so that made things a lot less awkward. Also Sam has this phobia of being touched by other people so I bet carrying another human being on his back isn’t fun for him. It was also super stressful to do, to be honest.

And then there’s this EXTREMELY AWKWARD scene when they’re reunited and decide to get married, and thankfully Sam finds it just as awkward as we do because he’s standing super far away from the bunker in a “can’t they talk about this later - I’m right there” way. And I’m under the impression it was intended as cringy, in a “yeppp young people in love are Like That” sort of way, so I can accept that, to be honest. If you don’t take that scene seriously, it’s pretty fun in, again, a cringy sort of way

BUT

Then you receive more emails later and this piece of shit guy complains about her and he’s like “ugh WOMEN” or “marriage is the worst” and they end up divorced in record time and she goes back to her bunker

Which isn’t my problem with this subplot either, I promise I’m gonna explain myself eventually but this context is important. It’s okay to have characters who are pieces of shit like this guy who reeks of incel cologne. It’s alright. Not every character has to be a role-model. It’s good to have characters you can hate.

BUT THEN they get back together later to try to patch things up and you learn he was part of a gang who murdered her parents even though he protected her against the rest of the gang and that’s what I hated about that storyline. I guess if you squint it can be read as “this woman is making REALLY BAD life choices” but I read it as “he saved her so she owes him something, he can’t be entirely bad” and y i k e s this left such a bad taste in my mouth, good lord.

But yeah miss Chiral Artist you’re making really bad life choices please get away from this dude as soon as you can, thank you

Also don’t do this ‘sending Likes’ pose ever again, it was hilarious but also you made me use the word “cringy” several times in this paragraph even though I absolutely hate cringe culture, look what you made me do

Now I have to talk about a scene that was intentionally disturbing as hell but ONE (1) detail in it was disturbing for the wrong reasons

To be honest, I really don’t like the Metal Gear Solid games and one of the reasons is the rampant sexism in them so I... was kind of bracing myself for Death Stranding and expecting it to have at least SOME really bad fanservice with a woman at one point or another but to my surprise?? There was none? All the fanservice is on dudes??? Hello? I really liked that (well at some point Fragile takes a shower in our room but we see literally nothing except her shoulder and then Sam looks away)?? What a refreshing change

THAT BEING SAID

And if you played the game you know exactly what I’m about to talk about

Yep this is the part where Johannes complains about how the bomb flashback was shot

Ok so I guess I should also give some context in case someone is reading this but hasn’t played the game, but the deal with this scene is that our friend Fragile was betrayed by her colleague Higgs who used to be a porter but became a terrorist after meeting the “main“ villain of the game. First he secretly put a thermonuclear bomb in one of her deliveries so she’d nuke an entire city without even knowing it, and everyone after that thought she was a terrorist. And then he tried to do that shit A SECOND TIME, but she noticed and decided to toss the second nuke into a bottomless lake of tar. But he caught her just before she reached the lake and he decided to give her a sadistic choice, which was “teleport away and the bomb stays there and nukes the city, or carry it to the lake but only in your underwear under this rain that speeds up time and it will do enormous damage to your health and your body”

And of course being the hero she is, she decides to take the second option

And it’s an incredibly disturbing scene and it’s genuinely hard to watch

But it’s also the ONLY time a woman is in her underwear in this entire game and there’s A COUPLE of shots that were male-gaze-y at the beginning before she started to run and the really horrific part started.

So in a way I guess it could have been worse? way worse, even

But it still tarnishes an otherwise disturbing (and harrowing at times ; seriously I know I’m oversensitive but it was physically painful to watch) scene with unnecessary shots

We know Fragile had a young body before this happened, this isn’t the point of this scene, guys

Whoever decided to keep these shots (probably Kojima let’s face it), that is bad and you should feel bad

Idk how to do a visual transition for that next one because I do not want to screen that memo

So here’s a screenshot with a nice landscape instead

tw: acephobia

Now I have to talk about something I like the GENERAL IDEA of, but not how the IN-GAME MATERIAL ABOUT IT was written

Because I have to talk about that “asexual world” memo

First I have to say that I absolutely love the fact that a mainstream game openly says in-game “this future is full of asexual people" and?? it’s just that, it’s a part of this world. That’s just how things are. It’s normalised. I love it. For crying out loud this memo has the word demisexual in it. I can’t think of any other mainstream game that had this word in it so far.

It should have stopped there and let me enjoy that in peace but it didn’t

THE MEMO ITSELF WAS CLEARLY WRITTEN BY SOMEONE WHO DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO HANDLE THESE CONCEPTS and there’s some really bad stuff there. I’d say it’s accidental acephobia but it’s still there. I’m not the best person to talk about this because I’m bi, but it still rubbed me the wrong way

The words this memo uses near the beginning are “"sexless lifestyle” among young people” and yikes, my dude. “Lifestyle”, uh? Really?

And then it goes on about how these new labels were already more and more common “among young people before the Death Stranding” and it also rubs me the wrong way, in a “wow young people and their weird labels lol” sort of queerphobic way?

However I’ve seen a post pointing out that the line “One theory posits that the Stranding accelerated the proliferation of these sexualities” was maybe a way of saying ‘yo asexuals are causing the end of the world’ but... I don’t see it, tbh? In the context of the game, society is extremely divided and a lot of people live in complete isolation and social norms have heavily shifted and it’s kind of normal that there’s queer people visible everywhere now, aces included obviously, because nobody’s bothering to hide it anymore. It’s a post-apocalyptic world! People are just being themselves! A lot of characters also seem to be bi/pan! They’re just vibing ok

At least that’s how I read that part, I can understand if someone had a problem with that bit but I didn’t

BUT! THAT’S NOT ALL because the memo concludes (I’m paraphrasing) “the birth rate has dropped, which might be a problem, but harassment and assault have also dropped, which is good, so idk it’s 50/50″ and. like. I get the intention. But it’s clumsy as hell and very bad. Please don’t confuse abuse of power and attraction. They don’t go hand in hand. Don’t do that. Please. And you know that aces can have kids if they want to, right. Come on. It’s 2020 my dude. This shit is harmful

Also. Like. It’s the end of the world in this game. People don’t want kids. It... has nothing to do with aces. Reality itself is crashing down. People are reluctant to have kids because reality.exe might f█cking crash down at any given moment!

Or a Beached Thing could VoidOut their city!

Or someone might send them a nuke, not naming names!!

Anyway!!!

It’s really badly written and whoever wrote it should educate themselves and maybe get an ace to re-read their stuff next time??

Again I’m not the right person to talk about acephobia and I bet an actual ace would have plenty more to say about this

Thankfully it’s a memo written in-game by a random Bridges councellor and NOT by any important character that we actually know

"I must preempt myself by admitting that I do not have any empirical data" yeah so, f█ck off maybe

So I’m just gonna call that guy “another piece of shit character” but it still doesn’t excuse the fact that the memo was written by someone who thought it was a good idea to put it in the game

Just let me enjoy my super queer post-apo world in peace and don’t write shit like that in your game thank you and goodbye

Minor stuff I also disliked but it wasn’t as awful

I get that Sam is upset at the end because Lou is dying but the way he said goodbye to Fragile broke my heart. It was abrupt and you KNOW he’s upset and wants to have nothing to do with Bridges anymore and that’s very understandable but it isn’t her fault

Seriously I want them to be friends again

I’m gonna pretend they’re friends again after Lou is saved and that Sam is a freelance porter again and sometimes their paths cross and they just talk together in the middle of nowhere and share cryptobiotes

The pacing is weird, there’s this deluge of plot in the beginning and the end but not much in the middle?

The BT boss fights could have been these epic Shadow of the Colossus showdowns but no, they were relatively standard boss fights. Wasted opportunity

The running on the Beach scene sdfghjhgfdsdfghjhgf that was... dumb

A lot of preppers are interesting in one way or another but some are just boring. Also I wish the design of their bunkers was more varied

Amelie/Bridget’s motivations are all over the place, both creating Bridges AND the Demens is... a lot? I know she both WANTS and DOESN’T want the actual, final end of the world to happen but that is a lot to take in and it’s all very confusing

Who the hell cares about ‘rebuilding America’ I just want to build a network where people can help each other

The ‘likes’ are fun but don’t make much sense

In conclusion

Death Stranding Good

Some stuff Bad

Some stuff Very Bad (but it’s just one memo out of 100+ memos, thank god)

I’m still hyperfixating

Send help

[princeescaluswords]

Fandom loves reminding us how wealthy and influential the Hale dynasty is (further proof the show should center them) and gushing over Hale pack feels, yet Derek couldn't like.... hire a lawyer to defend Isaac or something when he was arrested after Derek just let him go to school after his father's death

I wish I could tell you that Jeff Davis crafted a socially-aware tale where wealth, power, and privilege distanced white men from the reality of their actions, leaving it up to a Latino teenager to fight for justice for everyone regardless of their name, bank accounts, or the color of their skin.

But then I would be guilty of the same mistake I accuse other members of the fandom of making -- confusing interpretation with wishful thinking.

The truth is that while Jeff Davis did use class and race to indicate virtue or the lack of it; he was just a huge coward about it.  “I don’t want to be an issues show,” he whined, but he was more than willing to use those issues in a superficial manner to make you like his favorite shitty white men.

Derek was conspicuously wealthy.  He was a millionaire property owner who replaced his car window between episodes and picked up a brand new car between seasons, who was always immaculately groomed, who could afford to go away to South America when he felt like it, and who agreed to Braeden’s price without checking to see how much it was.  Yet, as you said, he didn’t spend a dime of that wealth on his supposed ‘found family.’  Beyond the idea that  maybe he should have been trying to fight the Argents with mercenaries like Braeden rather than teenagers, perhaps he could have made his betas’ lives a little better?

Instead, Jeff Davis used Derek’s wealth to make us feel sorry for him (and fucking Peter).   See, JD cried, poor woobie Derek, instead of using his wealth to live in luxury, sat in his burned out mansion because he felt guilty.  He hid out in an abandoned train station as a form of ascetic apology to his dead family.  (Didn’t skimp on the hair and skin care, though.)  When he finally bought someplace to live, it was a nearly bare loft in a gothic industrial building to represent the brooding sorrow of his endless manpain.  

I wish I was there when someone explained why it was a good idea to cut the scene of Isaac admitting to sleeping on the floor and taking the bus to Scott and said “You do realize this makes Derek look like an utter cock, right?”  And Jeff Davis staring in confusion.  “How?”

And Peter?  This man committed nine murders, kidnapped three children, and violated two more children, and he spent the entire series unapologetically claiming his wealth as his by right.  “What am I going to do, get a job?” he moans, like the big, privileged, rich, white pissbaby that he is.  He talks about Italian tables and his big fancy cars, and yet never does he even contemplate making things up to the children he hurt.   No one else seems to make that suggestion either.  

Instead, in a way a lot of rich white asshole television executives love, poverty is used to signify virtue.  Stiles worries about the bills, which shows us that he cares for his family.   Malia throws the keys back at Peter, to show that she has integrity.  And the McCalls?  Don’t get me started about the McCalls.  Melissa can’t afford to fix the driver-side mirror on her car in season 1.  She works extra shifts all the time.  Scott maintains a job through all the seasons (except 6B where he was supposed to be at college.)  

Nothing demonstrates this more than the garbage story line in Season 4 where Scott takes Garrett’s money from his locker.  This is money from a dead pool in which people are being paid 25 million dollars to kill him.  This is money stolen from the Hales -- the Hales that have dominated the last year of his life to his detriment.  His mother is close to losing the house. She hasn’t paid the electric bill in three months.  The roof needs replacing.   All the supernatural fights couldn’t have helped.   It was portrayed, realistically, as a significant temptation.

Fandom’s response to this was garbage, because, of course it was.  I remember one frequent meta specialist go off on Scott for even contemplating keeping the money in virulent and no uncertain terms after Orphaned (I can give you the link) but when Stiles argues for keeping the money next episode -- silence.   

Yet there is not the slightest discussion of whether the fucking Hales owe Scott and Stiles for filling their lives with bloodshed and terror.  Stiles made a good pitch, but Jeff Davis couldn’t bring himself to have Stiles say “Fuck those bitches, they owe us.”  Instead, we have Melissa McCall scold Scott with the biggest fake-ass platitude ever -- “You can save people’s lives, but you can’t save them from life.  Life is full of struggle.”  It’s sounds really nice, but it’s bullshit.  This isn’t about Scott’s heroism; it’s about him having a fucking roof over his head.

TRANSLATION: Rich White Assholes Get To Keep Their Advantages No Matter What They Do.  (And I haven’t even got to the Argents.)

Jeff Davis’s cowardice doesn’t end there.   When Scott, virtuous and remorseful because he contemplated being able to eat rather than making sure the Hale Family gets justice, brings the money back to Derek, we get some world-class wishy-washy fuckery.

Derek: Okay. 

Scott: Don't you wanna know why it took so long to return it? 

Derek:  How much do you make at the Animal Clinic? 

Scott: Minimum wage. 

Derek: That's why. Everyone can be tempted, Scott. Even a True Alpha. 

Scott: You're not angry? 

Derek: It's not even mine. It belongs to Peter.

Scott: Where's your money? 

Derek: You're standing on it. 

Scott: There's another vault? 

Derek: No. I own the building. And I have my own bank accounts. All the money from the vault was Peter's. I think we'd actually be better off if the rest never came back.

At the beginning of the scene, he pushes the money toward Scott. 

Now, did Derek give Scott the money?  We never hear of the roof repairs, or the electric bills, of Stiles and Scott worrying about affording college, or the damage done to the lake house, or about any financial problems for anyone ever again.  But Jeff Davis couldn’t bring himself to make it absolutely clear, to add one line to this scene: “Keep it.  You guys deserve this for what Peter did to you.”   Why?  As I said before, he’s a coward.   He’s more than willing to imply that Peter deserves to be imprisoned in a mental institution with a man who can force him to have coma-inducing hallucinations, but he can’t bring himself to say that wealthy white people owe the poor Latino who they beat and used any reparations.

Why would Jeff be a coward?  Look at the last word I used.  That’s why. 

And fandom?   Fandom is more than happy to look at the scene and say “See, Scott’s not perfect, he was tempted to keep the money, he doesn’t deserve to be Alpha, and he’s stupid as all fuck, because he thought there was another vault!”  

Jeff Davis used poverty as a signal for virtue, even though being poor is not virtuous, and ignored the idea of making things up to the people he hurt, even though paying people when you hurt them is a concept older than writing.  Instead, it’s used for sympathy for the RICH people.  Oh no, the Hales and the Argents have fallen on hard times because of the actions of murderous asshole Hales and Argents.   How sad.  (I just threw up in my mouth a little.)

[odos-bucket]

Safe

So I wrote another version of this story because 1) I can’t leave my house and I’ve already color coded everything in my room. And 2) I feel like those of us who read fanfiction are always looking for like a dozen different stories that deal with the same concepts

Anyway

So in this version they haven’t talked. But Jaskier fully intends to before things go any farther. It’s the same basic scene as the other story. Same room. Same number of days or weeks into the relationship (reader’s choice).

Their shirts are gone, and Jaskier is straddling Geralt’s waist, kissing his way up his sternum. Geralt’s arms are stretched out, and he’s gripping the bed posts, and has gone kind of white knuckled. Jaskier doesn’t notice this right away, but quickly makes another observation.

“You’re not touching me.” His breath is heavy. “... What’s wrong?”

He runs his hands out along the witcher’s arms, frowning at the tension he finds there. He stretches out to reach both of the other man’s hands, prying gently at his fingers.

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to,” Geralt finally says.

Jaskier lets out a laugh, without knowing if he means to or not.

“I thought- have I not been excessively, and at times I fear embarrassingly, transparent about that?”

Geralt gives him a look that he can’t decipher (and those have been getting fewer and further between). Jaskier tries to pull one of his hands off the bedpost.

Geralt makes a sound that might be a ‘no’, and Jaskier backs off.

“I can-” Geralt starts, and tightens his grip. “So that you don’t have to...” Each word is slightly breathier than the last.

“What’s wrong?”

Geralt sucks in a deep breath through his teeth and shakes his head.

“Should we stop?” Jaskier asks.

“You don’t have to.”

Something about the way he says it has Jaskier realizing that he does have to, and he slides over to the other side of the bed.

“Geralt, I don’t know what’s going on... You’re kind of scaring me.”

At that, the body beside him goes completely rigid. There’s a shift, and then Geralt is off the bed and halfway across the room before Jaskier can understand what’s happening.

“I’m sorry.”

Something Jaskier’s noticed in their years of traveling together is that Geralt apologizes for innocuous things. Almost never when he’s done something wrong, usually not when Jaskier feels he should, but more frequently than one might expect him to.

Frowning slightly, he maneuvers himself to sit cross-legged on the bed, and looks across the room.

“What for?” He asks.

Geralt gives him a look like he thinks the question is ridiculous.

Jaskier waits.

Geralt is mostly still, but his hands shift, fingers rubbing at his wrists.

“I don’t want to scare you,” he says gravely, lowering himself down to lean against the far wall.

“When have I ever been afraid of you?” Jaskier tries not to sound hurt.

“You said I was scaring you. Would it- fuck.” Every subsequent word sounds like he’s dragging it out of himself by force. “Would you feel more comfortable if there was something holding me in place?”

“... What?! What the hell are you talking about?!”

“You obviously weren’t comfortable with me holding the bed frame. I want you to feel safe.”

Jaskier stares incredulously. “You want me to...” he begins to echo, then shakes his head. “Did I do something that led you to believe I felt unsafe?”

“You said-”

“Yes, I remember, I said I was scared.” He doesn’t bother to hide his exasperation; it makes the whole thing feel just a little more normal. “... What did you think I meant by that?”

“What?”

“What specifically did you think I was afraid of?” Jaskier rephrases.

Again that look, like the question is completely ridiculous. But the answer still comes out a little unsure.

“Me?”

“No! You know I’m not afraid of you! You have to know that! You save my life every other week.” A sad laugh bubbles out of his throat. He thought they were past this! “You have protected me, and defended my honor, and let me dress you up like a doll and drag you out to spend evenings with people who you hate, and held me while I’ve cried through more nights than I can count; I think it might be time for you to face up to the fact that you’re just not as scary as you think you are.” He tries to sound teasing, but his voice cracks about half a dozen times.

“What was it then?” Geralt asks.

“I could tell there was something wrong, and I was worried about you. You were tense. I didn’t know what you were talking about. You seemed…” It almost feels ridiculous to say. “You seemed Scared.”

Geralt rolls his eyes.

“I want to understand,” Jaskier continues. “Can I come closer?”

“If you want to.”

“Do you want me to?”

Geralt nods. Jaskier still leaves a little more space between them than he normally would, even before their relationship had shifted into whatever it was now.

“What did you think was going to happen tonight?”

Geralt raises an eyebrow at him, and Jaskier rolls his eyes, and for a second it’s so familiar that he almost feels comfortable again.

“I want to understand,” he repeats. “What aren’t I getting here?”

“People want to feel safe during sex!” Geralt growls out like he can’t believe he has to explain it. “It’s not something you want to risk a weapon going off in the middle of! People want insurance, security. It’s how this works.”

He feels like someone’s just slammed a chair into his chest, nauseous, and breathless, and angry. He has so much more anger than he can do anything with at the moment. He finds himself suddenly needing to squeeze tears back into his eyes. He presses the heels of his hands hard against the floor, and doesn’t speak until he’s sure his voice won’t shake.

“You are not a fucking weapon.” He enunciates like he’s saying it for someone on the far side of a crowd. “And this is not how it bloody works.” He swallows, wants to pause again to make sure that his voice won’t start trembling, but there’s no way of knowing how long that will take. “Y-you hold on to the bed frame, to keep yourself still, because you don’t want your partner to feel like they need to tie you up, which you offered to let me do anyways.” Saying it out loud makes him feel sick. He doesn’t want to cry- this isn’t about him, can’t be about him- but it’s too much to hold back. At least he manages to let the tears slip quietly. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice that something was wrong? Did- did you think I wouldn’t care? How could-” He cuts himself off fast.

It’s how this works.

Fuck.

“Why do you think you’re going to hurt me?” He tries instead.

Geralt shakes his head.

“I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Of course not.

Because that isn’t really what this is about.

I want you to feel safe.

Jaskier presses his mouth shut, forces the anger back. How could Geralt think so little of him? He pushes the thought down and it pushes itself back up.

It’s how this works, he replays in his head again, until it serves to totally redirect his anger. There’s somebody out there who he doesn’t know, but who he can still imagine himself choking the life out of.

"I feel safe when you can hold me,” he says as steadily as he can. "Seeing you restrained makes me feel scared; it’s something that happens when we’re in danger, when something’s gone wrong. That’s the association I have. And seeing you so tense you’re practically shaking is worse.”

Geralt’s brow wrinkles.

“Why?”

“'Why?’” Jaskier echoes. He’s putting so much energy into keeping calm that he’s rapidly becoming exhausted. “Because I don’t really see much point in doing this if it isn’t going to be good for you.”

“That’s ridiculous. How I’m feeling shouldn’t affect your ability to get off.”

Jaskier covers his mouth to stifle an involuntary sound, reaching out instinctively with his other hand. Geralt grabs ahold of him like he’s been waiting for an invitation, and Jaskier thinks about how he should have reached for him earlier. And then he thinks that that last statement has been hanging in silence for too long.

“Of course it should,” he says quietly. “Of course it would… Wouldn’t your’s be? If it were the other way around?”

He watches something shift in his friend’s expression, and thinks he might finally be starting to understand.

But then Geralt shakes his head.

“It isn’t the same.”

A part of Jaskier wants to demand how it’s different. Another part knows that there’s no explanation Geralt could give that wouldn’t shatter him into pieces. And right now he needs to keep it together. He pulls himself out of his thoughts, and is surprised to hear his companion talking again.

“-There would be no reason for it anyways. I know you couldn’t hurt me.”

“… No you don’t,” Jaskier realizes. “I think tonight is proof that you don’t… Maybe this isn’t a good idea-"

Geralt freezes. His grip on Jaskier’s hand tightens at first, then begins to loosen slowly.

“-You shouldn’t be with someone who you can’t trust with total certainty to respect your needs.”

The pulse beneath his fingers picks up, and he wonders if that was a mistake to say.

“No,” Geralt cuts in. "This is my fault. You’re not-” he flails for what he’s trying to say. “…Fuck.”

Jaskier moves a little closer. Their legs bump against each other.

"It’s as important to me that you feel safe as it is to you that I feel safe. We can’t do this if you don’t."

“I’m not used to feeling safe."

“That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to.”

“I don’t need to.”

“Fuck that,” is all Jaskier can think to respond to that with.

Geralt hesitates.

“I want this with you.” He says it like he thinks it should explain everything.

“I don’t get to hear you start many sentences with ‘I want.’" Under other circumstances Jaskier would have smiled, now he just sighs. "You don’t need to hold onto the bed posts to have this with me. You’re not going to lose me for refusing to do something that makes you uncomfortable. I want this with you too. But only if it’s for both of us. I have to know what you want, and don’t want, and need, and you have to know what I want, and don’t want, and need. And I need to know that if I ever do something that hurts you, or makes you uncomfortable, or even that you just don’t like,that  you’ll tell me to stop. ‘People want to feel safe during sex.’ I refuse to accept that that doesn’t include you.”

Geralt gives him a look like he still doesn’t quite understand. And it hurts, it hurts, it hurts so fucking much.

He wants to scream. He wants to break something. He wants to wrap his witcher up and keep him somewhere the rest of the world can’t touch him.

But for the time being he settles for moving a little closer, squeezing his hand a little tighter, and listening.