#you can either change yourself into someone that's no longer you to avoid the tragedy

[strange-big-earner]

Spy in Emesis Blue is a tragic character, not because he is a sad pathetic little guy (he is, but not the point). He is tragic in a sense where everything happened to him, including his death, could have been avoided.

But he had to be someone fundamentally different. He had to be someone else, anyone who isn't him & his hubris & his greed. Jacques Murnau is doomed from the start.

[hanazou]

hello,, I’ve been feeling down lately and a loved one of mine recently has passed away...

if you are comfortable with it may I request a scenario of Atsushi and Chuuya comforting their s/o who were grieving over a death of a loved one? ;0 thank you I love your blog 💖💖

𝙘𝙝𝙪𝙪𝙮𝙖 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙞 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛

Books : Chuuya | Atsushi

Genre : Comfort, romance

Category : Headcanons, short scenario

Shelves : Hardback | Paperback

Warning : Description of grief

Note : I am deeply sorry for your loss. I can’t do emergency requests but I tried to get this one out as fast as I could. I could only do short scenarios of this so I added headcanons, I hope this is alright. Once again, my condolences and please stay strong.

Chuuya has to ask you a couple of worried questions before it strikes him what you’re dealing with.

He will be on the verge of panicking when he first hears the bad news, worse if you're the one that has to tell him what happened. He instantly undergoes flashbacks from experiencing something like this himself and he fears that your coping with the grief might harm you.

If you can’t afford to talk to him like you usually do, he understands.

He stands/sits next to you, arms crossed, occasionally glancing at you to see if there’s any change in your stance, expression, anything.

He avoids staring at you directly in concern that you'd become pressured by him.

He’s ready to catch you if your legs fail you

Holds the top of your head lightly yet firmly. If you don’t show signs of protesting, he’d slowly pull you closer to his neck.

Getting physically affectionate is his prime card to comfort you, but before anything, he takes off his gloves so he won’t dirty you.

His fingers move kind of unevenly and feel rough, but that’s how you can feel his desire to support you

If you can’t stop crying or on the verge to go on a complete mental breakdown, he immediately collides his body against yours as tight and strong as he could.

If your legs give up, he drops down with you in his arms instead of keeping you standing with his ability and he’ll clutch your face close when you both land on the floor.

If you won’t hug him first, he’ll pull you to him. He forces your face down his shoulder so you’d grieve as much as your heart can empty while his hand brushes your back up and down.

“Cry as long as you need,”

Words, as I’ve once said, isn’t his speciality, but he tries regardless. He wants to make sure that you know you aren’t alone, that you have him with you.

He doesn’t talk as much but his distressed expression stays as long as he’s with you.

“You can take it out on my shoulder, you know,” He hesitates a bit, unsure if he sounds too rough.

If you can’t stop crying, he pats your shoulder, only knowing how to say “There, there” since he thinks it’s better than saying nothing at all. Chuuya thinks you need to hear him being there.

Chuuya squeezes through his tight schedule to make time for you.

He negotiates as best as he could with Mori to give him as much time off as possible.

If it’s impossible to take a week off, he goes full rampage in his job with the thought of you in his head motivating him to finish everything as soon as possible, making a mess where he goes.

If someone gets in his way, Chuuya shouts, "I've got someone more important to see, you punk!" while blasting them away.

He always brings food and drink over and makes sure you eat. He spoon-feeds you if necessary. He isn’t the cleanest but him wiping your face clean makes up for that.

"Come on, babe, you gotta eat," Chuuya says. "They won't like seeing you grieving like this, so eat, yeah? For them?"

If the emotions exhaust you to sleep, he sits against the wall and pulls you to him so you’d sleep against his body, making sure his limbs are around you so you’d never feel the loss of pressure around your body.

If it's cold, he wraps you with a blanket and occasionally touches your fingers to know whether you're staying warm or not.

Since Chuuya’s goal is to make sure you don’t feel alone or abandoned as I’ve mentioned, he does everything to solidify his presence.

He calls often if he has to be away, he sends food delivery, leaves short sticky notes, and sends voice messages.

It’s noticeable he doesn’t know what to say and even more obvious that he wants to keep reaching out to you.

Chuuya tries to strike a light and brief conversation once in a while. He’s disturbed by your uncharacteristic silence, it scares him.

“Do you want some takoyaki?” He’d ask randomly. The anxiety on his face never wavers away.

He does any activity that comes to mind when he stays at your place, but regardless of what he does, he’s never more than three feet away from you.

Always, without fail, kisses you good morning and good night on the forehead regardless he stays at your place or not.

Or if you're not opposed to it, Chuuya wants to take you to his place. He may still have to go to work, but something doesn't feel right about leaving you alone for so long in a place he's not too familiar with. At least in his space, you're constantly reminded you're not alone and that you're there because you're never abandoned.

Like a strayed ship in a storming ocean, your emotions are the waves storming your damaged vassal of conscience to the point that even looking forward to sunray from the bleak sky of endless cloud sounds mythical, making speaking a heavy chore. You’ve been exhausting yourself to sleep, soaking everything with your tears until it no longer comes out. It’s frustrating, it’s turbulent, so active in making you passive. Your tears run out but not the multiple stabs around your heart. Your voice leaves you but not the intensity or the transparency of hurt on your face.

It feels impossible, fictional, but if it were, then you aren't supposed to have your heart cauterized. It's the reminder of the bitter truth you're grappling against accepting.

If they had to go, why not bring the pain with them? Why do they have to leave you fractured, incomplete, empty, by transcending away while you stay behind, only able to watch them shrink somewhere unreachable?

Why do pieces of you have to be chipped off your already fragile soul, leaving holes in your essence? Why leave many pieces behind, why leave you alone?

“Hey,” A voice zaps your mind back to your head.

You remove your face from your wrinkled, moist, and sweaty palms, everything in front of you foggy from the swelling of your eyes. You still wear your dark clothes, unable to find the heart to change into something new, something brighter, after the sudden tragedy strikes. It was not, and still not is, in your capability to even stand up to eat.

Chuuya’s oddly timid and soft-sounding voice for this week is what makes you feel something other than rocking instability.

Slightly opening your eyes to see him, his figure before you hurts your eyes from how colourful he is. His face appears like a messy mix of vibrant paint, his orange hair, blue eyes and fair skin, and dark clothes sticking out from the stale background behind him.

A pair of silver keys, ones that unlock your door, stand out from his black-gloved hand from beneath his tightened fist. He puts it in his pocket and takes your hands, forcing you to stand and steadies your arms when your knees wobble.

"Have you eaten the lunch I had delivered here?" He pats off the dust from your shoulders and arms, his vibrant face still paining your swollen eyes.

Your eyes roll to the untouched paper bag on the table. You figure Chuuya’s eyes follow because of the stifled sigh he holds in.

"Babe, come on…"

"I can't," is what you try to say, although with your dry throat, it comes out like scorched empty words. "I'm sorry, I know you picked it with great care and thoughts so I'd eat, but I just can't, not when—" You catch a coarse breath. "Not when I'm like this, I can't yet."

"Still don't want to talk about it?" His voice squeezes. "You can't keep it in forever, you know, and you really shouldn't."

With your blurry vision, you figure that his arms extend open. A weak ‘what?’ is all you can hoarsely ask.

“Saying nothing, skipping meals and not drinking.” He says sourly. “Let out your grieve like how it should be done. That's what they'd want too."

Your tears make a reappearance at either a bad or perfect timing, depends on how you tilt your head to see it. They prickle your eyes, some rushing down your face.

“Come here,” Chuuya says, perhaps frowning from the way his voice changed.

Your eyes close slowly before opening again, your puffed eyelids troubling you from keeping your eyes opened. “I don’t think I can,” You sound like an overworked opera singer. “If I hug you, I won’t be able to let go and I might suffocate you without meaning to.”

You think Chuuya makes a sound of annoyance until a force smashes your body forward, lunging your face against him. The brief faint glow of orange earlier helps you process that he used his ability on you to bring you to him. Now his arms trap you in him, your forehead strongly weighted on his shoulder.

“Then suffocate me,” His muffled voice says from behind your head, one of his hands taking your arm to hold his body. “I’m always here.”

Your hands stretch his shirt with your tight clasp as you feel yourself getting lost in the waves. The turbulence crashes out from within you as you incoherently cry on Chuuya’s stable body, him becoming your guaranteer in the midst of the rocking forces that threaten your balance. His rigid arms support your weight as you wail out, ensuring that the waves don’t sweep you away, somewhere unreachable from him. He secures you, letting you explore the storm’s rolling waves while still grounding you safe.

“I’m here,” The soft wind in the storm grazes your ear. “I promise.”

Atsushi is one of the most sympathetic and empathetic people you could ask for when it comes to comfort you through your grief.

He’s nowhere oblivious to someone who’s hurting. He recognizes what kind of pain you’re going through and it doesn’t take him too long to identify what you’re feeling and the intensity of it although he can’t process it into words.

Atsushi is so worried sick for you that he has trouble thinking straight and his breaths get faster.

He’s really anxious about you feeling left behind or abandoned.

He makes sure that you don’t doubt that your beloved one who has to leave earlier definitely loves you.

It breaks him if you think of things such as disappointing them, unable to fulfil their wishes, etc.

Atsushi can feel your hurt as if it’s his own, and because of his heightened emotional senses, he’s quick to jump in to support you. It’s instinctive.

He’s at first hesitant to touch you, let alone comfort you with his embrace, so he starts with generic sentences like “I’m so sorry” and “You can lean on me” while offering his empty shoulder

It’s challenging for him, but Atsushi is persistent to comfort you with his words before he touches you.

He insists on speaking before holding you around him.

Atsushi validates your feelings by putting his guesses of how you’re currently feeling into words. He’s not the best with words so he’ll struggle to pick his vocabulary, but the things he says are mostly true.

“I’m sorry you have to feel like your heart is becoming stiff,”

“If you feel like everything around you is empty, I’m still here,”

When he does get to the point where he feels that physical touch can help you, Atsushi is very tender.

He starts with wiping your tears away until your cheeks are drier and offers you tissues. He’ll help you blow your nose

He removes the hair sticking to your face and wipes your face until you’re dry

He hugs you like he's the one broken; putting his face on your shoulder, arms hanging from your neck. It's because that he fears that you might get as hopeless as him. He dreads for that for that happen so he holds you with the strongest Affirmation he can give.

"I'm with you, I'll always be," He keeps repeating while he hugs you.

Touches your fingers most of the time and squeezes your hand

Atsushi fights tooth and nail to get several days off to stay with you in your place. He’ll have a whole speech prepared so he can convince Fukuzawa and Kunikida

He’ll spend the morning bargaining with Fukuzawa in his office after giving Kunikida a 15 minute TED talk about how badly he can empathize with your loss and how he’s rock certain you need his company

He asks Kyouka to help him make your food that’s easy to digest for the stomach, like soup and porridge. You can best bet that she’s going to add some tofu to it.

“Kyouka-chan helped me make this fish soup,” Atsushi presents you the bento boxes, unwrapping the cloth. “Let’s eat, okay? You have to keep your stomach filled. I’ll help you.”

If he’s unable to spend the night at your place, Atsushi makes sure to arrive at 6 am sharp every day to check on you, and the earliest he’ll leave is around 8 o’clock

He cleans your place every day diligently and does an excellent job at it. Doing the dishes, cleaning the floor, making sure the sink is clean and ensures the bathroom floor isn’t slippery. He doesn’t want an untaken care living space to worsen your emotional state.

Despite always bringing fresh food, Atsushi makes sure to cook fresh batches of rice to eat with anything he delivers so if you miraculously want to eat something, you’ll have something to consume.

If he has to leave for a while, he surrounds you with plush toys. If you don't have any, he borrows Kyouka's bunny plushies collection and arranges them around you, your pillow, the corner of your bed, and on your blanket.

Atsushi never wants you to forget that your loved one loves you. He does everything in his power to remind you everyday that although they're gone, the love they have for you will eternally stay with you and that nothing can ever change that.

He hugs you while verbally reminding you of that.

His hugs always lasts a long while if you're not uncomfortable with it. He can stay long minutes in that position.

Or he sits/lays down next to you in silence, doing absolutely nothing. He's anxious about the quietness himself so his fingers are always near yours.

Words of affirmation randomly comes out. Sometimes he talks about his personal experience to encourage you that everything will be alright, sometimes he tells you the reasons to his belief why your loved one's love for you preserves through all.

He keeps his talks motivational and faithful for the future. Sometimes he'd quote the things Dazai had said to him, filtering out the nonsense if necessary, or the things he always told himself in hope for a brighter tomorrow.

A breathing doll has been haunting your room for a week. It blinks, it moves, it can be spoonfed, but nobody at a glance would argue that it lives. It’s a doll. Calling it an undead is more generous than calling it a doll because of the existing needs. A doll sits inanimately, breathes at the bare minimum, and is devoid of wants and needs.

It’s the perfect status to illustrate how corpse-like you’ve been living like for this week. Your stone-cold face, just as cold fingers, eyes that barely shift, dried mouth and chapped lips make it a challenge to have you described as something living. To even use the word ‘live’ to describe you is contradictory and to hear the word ‘live’ suffocates your throat and clamps your once functioning heart. The indescribable pain mutes you, paralyzes you, turning you doll-like.

A broken doll, you are, once full, once living and moving until the one you love had to bid life farewell first without warning.

One tireless and loyal white-haired boy frequents you every day, bearing food and water to make sure the living doll in your room doesn’t fade into the cold. Cobwebs would have formed between your arms and your bed if he didn’t clean you off the filth you don’t bathe away, your nerves have been too dormant for you to feel filthy.

A bright white figure shifts around in front of you like a poltergeist. You pay it no mind. This isn't the first or second time you're seeing things that aren't there, or rather, someone who isn't supposed to be here. Your cluelessness to cope with the grave reality seems to have driven your brain on autopilot, it seems that this time it decides to give you a hallucination so you'd have someone to cling to.

A sudden snap startles your eyes to open wider, albeit without focus. Something black was in front of you, it had five branches and moves so... humanly. Like it's real. You trace it back to the white hallucination in front of you and it takes you a while to realise that you aren't hallucinating. The white haired boy who has been frequenting your place is here again today.

"Atsushi..." His name falls emptily through your teeth.

Atsushi’s mouth opens and his lips move in accordance. His face wrinkles to the centre. The inconsistent pressure he applies around your cold hand before holding you as tight as now tells you of how fragile he knows you are.

His mouth opens again familiarly. You shift your eyes to him without any effort to listen through the incoherent sound.

When his lips move for the third time, you figure out he has been calling your name. You blink twice and his chest deflates with a long exhale.

“You’ll pull through,” His hold around your hand boldens as he grit his teeth. “They had to depart first but they did so while loving you. You're loved, they love you. You can use that to push on, their love for you lives on and so do your memories of them.”

He observes you with high intensity as if expecting you to speak. You notice the disappointment when all your eyes do is gaze hollowly through him. You think he breathes in a sob from the sudden squeak he makes.

Your eyes lazily roll to follow your hand Atsushi lifts to put against his face. “I’m with you, I'll always will be. You’re not alone, you’re not alone, you’re not alone.” He chants. “You’re never alone, you’re never alone.”

He brings your hand down against his chest. Something beats inside to hammer you the reminder that it will never stop thrumming. The warmth reminds your nerves of something. It feels contagious, bringing you recollecting something you used to feel often.

“I promise, I promise, I promise,” Atsushi hurriedly says, “I’ll always be here for you.”

Like a mantra, his words deliver the familiar sensation his chest makes you feel to your essence. After your slowed blink, you tilt down your head and tilt back up, repeating that movement until it’s fitted to be called a nod. Atsushi heaves a breath out and pulls your hand to get between his arm and side until your upper body drops against his.

“They watch over you, I promise,” His hand holds your head as you passively breathe on his shirt. "Anytime and anywhere, they're with you, and so am I.” He says airily. "You're never alone and never will be. They're with you and I'm staying forever, you'll never see your side empty, I promise they watch over you, I promise, I promise, I promise,"

Your head tilts to the side, giving more space to breathe. His solid body exudes more of the feeling you don’t realize you crave. It reaches your throat eventually, nourishing you with words you once lost.

"Thank you," You whisper.

A living doll you temporarily are but not forever, and most certainly, a loved human you are for as long as the memory of your beloved and Atsushi keep you close to them.

© all rights reserved to hanazou. do not repost, modify, or claim any of my works as your own.

[nox-artemis]

Kentaro Miura

It took me awhile to get my thoughts in order. Honestly, as well intentioned as they are, a constant stream of fan tributes on Twitter and Tumblr more-or-less telling me how to process “The End” of Berserk with Miura’s death didn’t do a lot to console me, so I had to take some huge steps away from social media and only conversed my feelings with my other close Berserk fan-friends.

It was very surreal waking up yesterday morning to a friend messaging me simply saying, “did you hear the news?” When shit like that happens, I go onto my Google stories app and scroll through. I didn’t find anything really worth getting too upset over (maybe a bit sad that Queen Elizabeth II’s doggo died?) so it hit me to check my Twitter feed instead.

And that’s when I saw it.

We all know death is inevitable, and life is pretty much spent prolonging the point to that inevitability as well as preparing ourselves for when it happens to us or someone close to us. Being part of the Berserk fandom was the only time we all collectively had this on our mind not only for someone else but for someone we never met or really knew that much about. We only knew Miura through his magnum opus – and that was good enough for us. And no matter how much we discussed the worst-case scenario – pondering how the story would continue and how WE would continue – it still wasn’t enough to prepare us for this amount of shock. Hearing Miura had died and that the Berserk we know and love under his direct supervision is over truly felt like losing a long-lost friend.

It wasn’t just that the Berserk we know of is “over”, but that Miura didn’t have to die. He was only 54: not a young age, but not an old age either, especially by today’s standards. He could have seen the end to his magnum opus the way he envisioned it, yet he died of something so avoidable but is only brought about by a great deal of stress (from what I’ve read). It was always a morbid open rumor that so many of Miura’s infamous hiatuses were actually mental and/or physical health breaks, so the older or more conscious of us fans, while always eager and anxious for a new chapter, learned to not take them so personally. Miura was a spellbinding artist and storyteller, but he was also a human with his own life and conflicts that he was entitled to address at his own pace. This isn’t meant to blame anyone (at the very least, maybe to address some societal/industry issues), but it’s troubling enough to remind everyone – as the story of Berserk has demonstrated – that you need to take care of yourself physically and mentally, and while everyone struggles in life, you don’t have to struggle alone.

I always despised this weird cult of youth that insinuates that life isn’t worth pursuing once you hit your mid-thirties, and how some people so engulfed in their youth insist that they wouldn’t mind dying by the age of 50 or 60. It’s a shame when people live by that because there’s so much to live for beyond your youth – as I’ve learned, I only started buckling down when I transitioned into my thirties. Miura could have had a longer life ahead of him, going beyond Berserk and into his other endeavors, professional and personal, but that will unfortunately never happen now.

Everyone knows I have a lot of thoughts and opinions on Berserk. Most of you found out about me through my blogging several years ago, and I’m pretty proud that I was never the sort of fan that groveled at Miura’s feet and treated Berserk as some untouchable holy book: there were things I disliked about Berserk and things that disappointed me about Miura’s writing, but there were SO MANY MORE THINGS that I loved about Berserk and was proud of Miura for, and I wished him to continue his advancement in narrative growth. He did so and we watched it happened.

And, by meeting so many friends and acquaintances through the fandom, we saw a lot in ourselves change too. It’s surreal how we always joked that it would be one of us fans who would die before Berserk ended or the worst-case scenario of Miura dying; maybe some of us secretly preferred for that happen. But when we weren’t waiting around for another chapter… look at how much we’ve done with our lives! We graduated high school, undergrad, grad school, started and advanced our careers, traveled the world, got together, popped out a kid or two!... And while we experienced a lot of downfalls and tragedies that coincide, can you believe how much we have accomplished together?

We were all personally inspired, motivated, persuaded by Berserk in different ways: a lot of us were inspired for the better and admittedly, some for the not-as-good (if spending countless hours on Tumblr has taught me, there were definitely some toxic fan takeaways that had to be confronted). I’m not going to go to the point of saying that I now live my life by Berserk’s philosophy to a T or live as a reflection of certain characters (because I’m pretty sure that Miura was trying to tell us to NOT live your life like some particular characters) but it certainly helped to brings some aspects of life and existence into perspective, through the lenses of so many characters. Berserk also inspired me to write more, an already favorite pastime of mine, and how I should go about writing and planning a story, taking cues from Berserk on how to and how NOT to write and approach things in my own way, which I think is for the best in the long run. I can only dream that I’ll be published someday – which doesn’t have to be a pipe dream because it’s still much more possible than impossible. And so many other have done the same, creating our own stories and works.

And OF COURSE Berserk inspired me to be a little bit badass from time to time in moments of frivolity and seriousness – but it reminds us all that being badass and being a kinder person who tries to become the best version of themselves are not mutually exclusive. We definitely need more of that in today’s world.

We all made our own little bonfires of dreams happen, and because of Berserk existing, there will be a lot more beginnings than endings, and I don’t see a lot of bonfires being extinguished anytime soon. Miura poured his heart and soul into Berserk and its characters, and while he has passed on, his characters and lessons will live on through us and everything we create and how we live our lives (hopefully for the better).

I was happy to share all of my thoughts with you all – and I’ll continue to do so, since the mythos of Berserk has been a major backdrop of my creative mind for over fifteen years now and there is still so much to dissect and speculate. Personally, I don’t see Berserk ending just yet, if only because I’d be surprised that Miura or his publisher didn’t have some Operation London Bridge type plan in place in the event that this happened (Berserk is, after all, a major title that most likely brings Young Animal a lot of revenue). Again, I never treated Miura or Berserk as divine untouchables, so if there are plans in place to continue Berserk without Miura (BUT with his permission) or just on how to wrap up the story to give it a fulfilling conclusion, I personally would be okay with it (as a friend of mine put it, it’d be more of a tribute than an imitation). Going beyond our lifetimes, works will continue to be interpreted and reinterpreted as they have since time immemorial; perhaps Berserk will reach that point someday.

Honestly, and many have thought so too, Berserk was also meant to be cosmic level in both scale and concept. The plot is so grand and Byzantine that, even under Miura’s direct supervision, I always had a hard time envisioning how a story of this scale would conclude. As much as we love to hate him, a final showdown between Guts and Griffith seems too simple, too “good vs. evil”-esque for Berserk. Maybe having a low-key, vague but optimistic and bittersweet wrap up is what is best for Guts, Casca, and their new-found family. But that’s just another one of my fan speculations.

Regardless or what is to become of Berserk now, I think it’s safe to give adulations. We all came across Berserk at different times in our lives and stuck with the story for different reasons. For some of us, it was just another series that our friend from the campus anime club recommended to us; for others, we were drawn in from a morbid curiosity of its dark notoriety in anime circles. A few of us read for the gratuitous violence and the clout (because we all know you’re so deep and hardcore [/sar]), but a lot more of us read for the journey and the characters that we became a part of. The heaviness of Berserk made us confront a lot of trauma and even relive our own. For some of us, understandably, it was not a good idea to dive deeper (and maybe somethings could have been handled better); for the rest of us, it helped us cope, if not entirely through the story itself, than through the support network we made for ourselves in this fandom and its many realms (some realms, I argue, are more caring and nurturing than others).

From time to time, I always wonder if I would ever “grow out” of Berserk. There were indeed several times I took a step away from fandom and have tried to reduce my exposure to the story - but I always came back in some way, because the essence of Berserk has never left me and never will. Humorously I envisioned myself actually forgetting about Berserk for several decades, decades in which I work at my career, raise my family, mourn my elders, but continue living my life, only to go on the future internet in my mid-50s to find out… Miura is STILL working on that ending, sitting at his desk in the same pose as that famous monochrome capture of him, only he’s grayed and wrinkled, like the great Miyazaki.

The possibility of that future is over, but there are so many others.

[skylarmoon71]

Reverse Flash x Reader- Oneshot (Flash)

Dealing with this yellow suit wearing maniac was not how you thought you’d spend the night. As an ex citizen from Central city, you knew just about every villain that came out of the tragedy of the explosion. Every day a new one seems to arise, and since you liked having all your body parts as they were, you stayed caught up with the news.

That’s why you’d left the place for some much needed peace. 

Rockstone was quiet, and still pretty populated. It wasn’t that far away from Central City either, so you could still visit your family every now and then.

“You seem awfully calm for someone being threatened."

The dark haired male raised his vibrating hand, hoping to urge at least some kind of reaction. After being brought back and wiped from existence so many times, this time around he’d just been looking to have a little fun. Chasing Barry around was starting to get redundant. And then he supposed the hero had his own problems to deal with right about now.

He planned to stay as low key as possible until he could figure out what his next move was. So kidnapping an unsuspecting victim and forcing them to provide him shelter seemed like the best way to go.

“Not gonna lie, scared the shit outta me when you appeared out of that little portal. Really thought I dodged a bullet leaving CC. Just my luck.” you grumble. Sipping at your coffee, you adjusted your bag strap. “Sorry old man, got a job to get to so if you’ll excuse me.” you walk around him. It was already dark, and since you had a night shift at the university today, you really weren’t in the mood for this.

Your hair is taken with the whip of the wind, and it feels like a blink. Drink discarded on the ground, you stare in shock. He has you pinned to the wall, snare on his face, blue eyes emitting so much raw agitation. “I’d advise against mocking me.”

He’s started to vibrate, the red light overtaking his eyes.

“It’s not wise to test me.”

The echoing of his voice would bring any person to their knees in fear. The look in your eyes shifts from shock to annoyance. Your free hand is hanging at the side of your waist. You raise your palm, and he looks down just as a blue light shoots out. He’s gone once again, obviously not anticipating this. No longer forced up on the wall, you shrug your shoulders, straightening your shirt that was ruffled.

Eobard is now standing at a distance, intrigued. He halts his speed for a second to observe you. He’s positive he has no recollection of you. Being the evil genius that he is, he’s pretty much recorded all the villain metas in Central City. All those years travelling through time also played a big part in it. So why does he have no profile on you?

“Who are you?” He narrows his eyes, and all you provide is a smirk.

“I think you mean what.” You open both your palms, and your eyes are now emitting the same glow as your hands.

“Great.”

What in the world did he get himself into. He really had a knack for picking bad situations.

~Three Months Later~

“I could have just. “ He makes a hand motion, and you don't need to even guess what he means. This guy. You'd just been telling him about your experience yesterday with one of your peers.

“Now now, don’t make me put you to sleep again Bardy-poo. “ You could tell from his facial expression that the name was anything but desired.

“How long do you intend to keep me hostage?” you scoffed at his statement.

“Hostage, I’d like to think of it as a gracious service to society. “

Eobard was still glaring in your direction.

Running into you that night was such terrible luck on his part. He really thought he’d be lucky this time around, but he was dead wrong. You were unlike anything or one he’d ever met. Certainly not a meta. Since you weren’t exactly forthcoming about your origin, there wasn’t much to go on. What he did know is that every time he attempted to do something even remotely evil, you knew about it.

His powers also had very little effect on you. Trying on many occasions to drill a hand through your chest with no luck. You had him mentally and physically subdued. What’s even worse is he was trying to avoid time travelling, cause that would catch Barry’s attention, and the prospect of the male finding him was even less appealing. With nowhere to go, and you keeping him on a tight watch, his only option was to stick around.

It wasn’t like he was completely stranded. He had means to get by for moments like this. With his abilities he could take whatever he wanted without so much as a flinch. You apparently didn’t care much for his little adventures as long as no one got dead. For all intents and purposes, he was a free man, minus the unnamed being keeping him on a leash.

“I can feel you plotting from all the way over here. Something you’d like to share with the class?”

“Will you remove the bind?” He asked. You click your tongue.

“You know I can’t do that. Evil villain and all. I wouldn't sleep very well if I knew you were out there impaling civilians. “

His eyes were still marking you, and you shifted, brows knitting.

“Well...I’m gonna go because that look is a bit off putting.”

Moving to pick up your cup of coffee and head for the door, you’re once again trapped between the speedster and the wall. You’re about to give him another snarky retort, but you become a little distracted by how deliciously rosy his lips are.

You divert your eyes quickly before your mind can stray any further. He doesn’t speak for a moment, and for a second you almost think he’s trapped in the same haze you are. He’d obviously prepared something diabolical to say, but like some of your most recent interactions, his usual malicious intent is missing.

“So, you're gonna say something or are you trying to relive some Korean drama scene."

He blinks, then takes notice of the position. You’re a bit confused at the lost look on his face. If you didn’t know any better you would have said he didn’t intend to do that. Taking a step back, the coldness returns to his eyes, and just like that he takes off. You release a breath.

“It’s getting harder.”

This little ploy was becoming difficult to keep up. If he ever figured it out you’re not sure what his reaction will be. Your reason for doing this has greatly changed from the beginning.

~~~~~~

The little mental battle has been going on all day.

You could barely focus on anything even when you were teaching your criminology class. That night walking to your door, you felt heavy. Not just from the secret you were keeping from Eobard, but also the feelings you’d lectured yourself not to grow.

The dark haired male is not a good man. You keep telling yourself that. But you’d hope that these months being around you would change that. He hadn’t hurt anyone since his arrival. You honestly thought that you could change him for the better. Opening the door, you step in. The area is silent, and it sort of makes you a tad bit suspicious.

“Eo-”

“Good evening.” You jump, glaring in his direction as you push the door close. He’s sitting on the couch casually like he didn’t just scare the shit out of you.

“Geez don’t do that!!”

He’s once again strutting that stupid smirk.

“It’s uncomfortable isn’t it, when things happen that we have no control over. Surprises.” you squint.

“Why do I feel like that has some alternate meaning."

He’s dressed in dark clothing, glasses perched on his nose. Everything about his body language tells you something is up. With his attention now fixed on you, the bag in your hand is placed on the counter. You’re preparing for anything. As you’ve realized Eobard is very unpredictable.

“I’m done playing your game, release me at once. “

Trying not to pay much mind to his request, you walk past him.

“Come on, we've been at this for months. I can’t let you go on a rampage. Innocent lives and all. If you really wanna blame someone then blame yourself. What are the odds that out of all of the people here you decided to grab me right?” you laugh, but you don’t receive any in return.

“You’re under the impression that this is a game.”

Eobard knows there’s no harm he can inflict on your body, doesn’t mean his actions don’t make you nervous. He approaches slowly, but with purpose. With your back now to the fridge, you try to move to an area where you won’t feel as trapped. Eobard in no way allows this. His hands press into the cool surface of the fridge.

“Y-You know this fetish you seem to have with pushing me against stuff is getting kind of old.” Who were you kidding, shit was driving you mad.

“You can’t keep me here.”

There was no humor in his voice. Just flat out hostility. Yet he wasn’t emitting the anger you knew he had inside. Just because he couldn’t kill you didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt you. You’re positive he’s realized that by now. The prospect of him leaving, somehow it caused an ache in your heart. Eyes connected, it was impossible for you not to look so vulnerable.

“I-If you really want to leave then just go.” you willed your body not to shake, but it was becoming difficult to even keep your tears at bay. “Are you toying with me?” He clenched his fist.

You shook your head, lowering your eyes. Why did you have to feel guilty for keeping the truth from him. The guy wasn’t exactly an upstanding citizen. “I’m not. You can leave Eobard. “

His eyes grew a little wide at the information. 

“I’m not a witch, or a metahuman. I’m just a mutant.” you state. 

“It’s how I’m able to produce barriers like the one I placed on you. It can only be sustained for a maximum of three weeks. It’s taken me years to get to that point of control. You just assumed I always had the barrier up after a month, and I never corrected you because I was trying to keep people safe.”

That wasn’t your only reason.

This entire time he’d been trying to solve your mystery when the answer was right in front of him. It still made no sense. Why didn’t he leave?

“The only reason you’re still here is because you want to be.” Eobard took a step back.

“That can’t be right, why would I want to be stuck in this wretched town.”

All you offer is a smile. At the back of your mind you hope it’s because he’s grown closer to you than he wants to admit.

“I’ve been wondering the same for weeks now. “

You aren’t sure what else can be said. Thankfully you haven’t started breaking down. You sort of want him to leave so you can have the privacy to do so. You take a breath, forcing a confident smile on your face. “Well the cat’s out of the bag so I guess this is goodbye. Just because I can’t hold you doesn’t mean I won’t know when you’re causing mayhem. Better not fall back to your old ways.”

You refuse to look him in the eye, so you have no idea what kind of expression he’s wearing.

Eobard steps forward and grabs your arm.

“Wha-” your swept right off your feet, and you grunt when your back suddenly comes in contact with the softness of your mattress. Eobard is hovering over your body, and you realize he’s just taken you into the bedroom without so much as an explanation. Not just that, but the hunger behind those dark rimmed glasses is enough to turn you into putty.

“W-What are you doing!!”

“Testing a theory.”

“The fu-” His lips collide with yours and your eyebrows shoot up. If you had expected something, it wasn’t this. His entire body is now pressed into you. You’ve held your breath, whimpering.

This is bad, wrong even. His hands are pressed into the mattress, as he shows no signs of moving, or slowing down. His lips are moving eagerly against yours, and at some point your body has started to respond. You reach up, grabbing a fistful of his black shirt, forcing him closer. Your kisses are desperate now, and raw. One of his hands lands on your thigh, trailing up your leg. Because you’re wearing a dress, you can feel his palm against your skin. You moan, and he takes full advantage, slipping his tongue in.

“So good..”

He tastes amazing. His kisses are even more incredible. If you never came up for air that would be too soon. Eobard parts for the breath you are both in need of. Sapphire orbs have changed to navy, and it elects another needy moan from you. His hand is still on your thigh, caressing the skin teasingly. He’s so close to where you need him the most. Eobard takes pleasure in your soft cries. Now it all makes sense. The reason behind your need to keep him there, his apparent unconscious reluctance to leave you.

“Delicious.”

He licks his lips, pulling off his glasses and tossing them overhead.

“I hope you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into. “ You gulp.

Did you?

His lips hover over yours and the logical part of your brain has vanished. You lean up to connect, but he’s keeping you at a distance with that stupidly sexy smirk on his face."

”It appears I’m the one who has you bind now. “

What an unusual turn of events.

Not that you’re complaining.

[linkspooky]

mechamiwa got me feeling like T_____________T

Mechamiwa is such a well-written tragedy. It’s rare that in a shonen manga such a flawed love story gets to be told. How the characters feel about each other is so clear, and also why they can’t be together is just as clear. Just to make you cry anon, an analysis of MechaMiwa under the cut. 

1. Strong and Weak

Mechamaru and Miwa both embody one of the central themes of the series, there’s strength in weakness, and there’s weakness in strength. 

Mechamaru is most likely the strongest Kyoto student, not only that but he has a measure of control because of his puppetry technique, he can doctor records, manipulate people, and is smart enough to play double agent for awhile to further his own goals. 

Mechamaru is very strong as an individual. He’s very selfish as an individual As a person he’s weak, however. Not because of his disability, but rather his inability to handle his own emotions. Of course, Mechamaru has a right to resetnment, he even has a right to hate the whole Jujutsu System, but the way he chooses to handle his emotions by lashing out is not healthy for him ultimately. 

Mechamaru hates himself, and hates his own weakness. Rather than trying to live with his own weakness, or be open about it, he hides behind his strength. Which is why rather than accepting other people’s help, he tends to be secretive, keep his distance, and he prefers attacking them rather than opening up to them. 

Mechamaru has this assumption that other people are going to look down on him, dislike him if they meet the real him, and that’s why he’s so defensive. That’s why he goes on the attack right away when he meets Panda. To stop others from looking down on him, he looks down on them first. 

Mechamaru is a strong person who can’t bear his own weakness, and can’t bear to see himself as weak. 

He has his reasons for this of course, but his primary strategy of keeping distance from others so they never have to meet the real, weak him gets in the way of what he wants. 

Miwa wanted to see Mechamaru as he was, in person. He didn’t need to be strong for her. The only ones who told him Mechamaru couldn’t be with his friends were Mechamaru himself, and the society around him, but his friends were always willing to accept him for who he was. Mechamaru can’t accept himself because he interanlized too much of what the Jujutsu Society taught him about weakness and it became a part of his own self loathing. 

Mechamaru wanted nothing more than to stand with his friends, but he did everything, manipulate them, betray them, protect them from afar, instead of taking the first step out himself to go see them. 

All because of his fear of being weak, and being seen as weak. 

Then, there’s Miwa who while not a fully developed character is a change of pace from a lot of the Jujutsu Kaisen characters because she accepts how weak she is. 

Miwa is the opposite of Mechamaru, a weak person, who doesn’t see her own strength, and doesn’t try as hard as she could to be strong. 

Miwa isn’t motivated to fight for herself, but her siblings she’s currently trying to take care of, so she lacks Maki and Nobara’s complete self possession. She’s not obsessed with the world of Jujutsu and treats it more like a dayjob, so she’s not motivated by saving others like Yuji or Megumi are either. 

However, in the Jujutsu World there’s someone a common sentiment that if you get stronger you’ll never have to lose anything. Characters believe everything is decided on strength alone, and an individually strong person will never have to face any loss. You can fight your feelings somehow. You can punch your feelings in the face, and you’ll never have to be sad again.

When losing Yuji for the first time, Megumi and Nobara’s response is to hide their feelings, and then try to fight the loss. If they get stronger they’ll never have to lose again. The motivation to get stronger isn’t wrong per se, but even the absolute strongest Satoru Gojo could not save his best friend. 

Miwa desires to get closer to others in a way most Jujutsu sorcerers just don’t. She’s a bit of a parallel for Utahime, who unlike Gojo was able to become someone who tethered Shoko and kept her connected to others. This is in part because Utahime is someone much more open with her weakness. 

Miwa tries to get close to Mechamaru anyway, despite knowing she might lose him, and the end result is she does. When she loses him, she feels weak, useless, she cries over it. It’s also the most emotionally open I’ve seen a character be with their grief in this manga.

There’s an emotional strength in being able to process sadness, and grief and yet still want to get close to others, instead of keeping your distance to shield yourself from those negative emotions. That was Miwa’s strength, but also Miwa didn’t push hard enough. Miwa sees herself as weak and because of that she’s desperately lacking in the ambition Nobara, and Maki ust have naturally. 

Miwa also could have been fighting by Mechamaru’s side. She could have pushed harder, she could have confronted him and challenged him more, but she was ultimately too passive until it was too late. 

Mechamaru was unwilling to give up his control, Miwa was unwilling to take his control. Mechamaru and Miwa both saw themselves as too weak individually, to stand by each other’s side, which is why they couldn’t be together. No matter how much both of them wanted it. 

Mechamaru and Miwa could have lended each other that strength: we see this in the fight against Mahito. Mechamaru uses Miwa’s techniques, his main motivation to fight is Miwa’s words to him.

Simple Domain is a pwoerful technique, especially when cooperating with others. There’s a first grade who uses simple domain. Mei Mei uses simple domain as a part of her ultimate attack. It seems really well suited towards cooperation, which is also Miwa’s strongest character trait her desire to connect with others in spite of the pain.

However, Miwa didn’t assert herself. 

The last symbol of Mechamaru and Miwa’s relationship is the distance between them. mechamaru can’t be there for her in person, in any way, emotionally or physically. They are two people who love each other deeply, but couldn’t be together because of their individual flaws. 

It’s because they both avoided each other in a sense. Miwa doesn’t think she’s strong enough to fight with others. Mechamaru is so afraid of being weak, just naturally assumes people will project her, that he preferred to protect MIwa from afar the whole time instead of being close to her. 

While it is a failed relationship, I think Mechamaru’s love for her was very real, and if Miwa processes the grief from this she has potential to grow as a character. There is set up for MIwa, her parallels to Utahime, the fact that there’s a simple domain user who’s a first grade right now who uses shadow style the same as her. 

What I hope is this will be the push Miwa needs to get stronger, not so she can fight as an individual, but so she can drop the “Miwa the Useless” attitude and fight together with the others. 

There’s something to be gained even by loss, which is why I think it’s better for characters not to lose fearing this loss. I don’t think Miwa regretted opening up to Mechamaru, or loving him, even if in the end he died, and all it did was hurt her, because she can still carry on his wish and that is their way of being together. Accepting loss also means accepting the people you’ve lost, and being able to struggle together with them even though they’re no longer there.

Yuji can take on Nanami’s suffering, Miwa can take on both Kokichi’s suffering and the happiness he wished to give her. 

[toflyandfall]

I just saw a photo of "What persona. Dick Grayson isn't a mask. Not like Bruce Wayne is" from Detective Comics #725 and I find it interesting that Dick and the rest of the bats, with the exception of Bruce, don't wear "masks" per se. They are who they are with or without the domino mask/helmet. The only time I can really think of Dick faking things is when he pretended to be an incompetent BPD cop. How was he able to avoid creating and living, half the time, through a "persona" like "Brucie"?

Oooh, this is a lovely, meaty question.  There’s a lot more analysis of Bruce than I planned because let’s be real, it’s kinda weirder for a guy to run around with half a dozen personas than for someone else to run around as himself.  I hope you still find it interesting, but if you want to skip straight to the more Dick-centric stuff, head under the readmore.

A simple but significant factor is that Dick thrives on the company of people in a way that Bruce does not.  I suspect if you talk honestly to many introverts, you will find they too have an extroverted ‘mask’ they put on to the larger world, though probably not quite so extreme.

Another factor is that the civilian social circles Dick and Bruce travel in are vastly different.  Though they each have a reason for being in those circles, that difference itself enables Dick to escape much of the scrutiny that Bruce’s public identity undergoes, because he doesn’t frequently associate with the much more media-hounded elite.

An interesting thing here is that the large difference in social circles between their civilian lives is actually caused by their own personal similarities: they are 100% committed work-a-holics.  It’s just that they have differing civilian approaches to their goals.

I want to start with Bruce because as you point out, his use of persona is distinct among the bats and his reasons for using them in part explain why Dick and the other bats do not.

Bruce is a child of privilege, he has always lived a lifestyle of privilege, regardless of the tragedies that have occurred during it, and his default view of the world, through no fault of his own, is natively that of the extreme upper class.  This drastically influences his perspective and approach to change, and changing the world is his perpetual goal, the reason he put on the suit in the first place.

Bruce works a top-down society approach toward systemic change, and he works it all the time.  This is actually my favorite but woefully under-emphasized part of him: he is not just someone who punches people on the street ‘for justice’, he uses his company, his money, and his social position toward substantial systemic change. This post does a wonderful job covering the ways he does this through his corporations and personal wealth, as does this one.  I cannot recommend either enough because I constantly want to push even the most casual Batman fans to understand: Bruce Wayne is not just a violent punchy puncher man.  He is a traumatized person genuinely trying to use all his resources including himself to make the world safer.

Detective Comics #725

Bruce has many personas he maintains, and he uses all of them according to what suits his need--Batman for places the law can’t go, Bruce Wayne the CEO pushing for systemic changes, Matches Malone for street information, and Brucie the society high roller for society information and social influencing.  He is rarely ever not in a persona and simply ‘Bruce’.

His top-down perspective of enacting change are what dictated the usage and necessity of these personas. He has the means and capacity to basically disappear from society if he so chose--he in fact does so to train during his younger years so successfully they don’t even know how long he was actually gone. 

The Batman Files

So he doesn’t need the personas.  Not Bruce Wayne, CEO, or Brucie, or any of them really, to protect his identity.  That tells us that Brucie is a deliberate choice he made at some point.  He could have been a recluse billionaire Batman indefinitely.  Even though he fully has the status and means to not maintain a job or a persona or, let’s be frank, a life outside the mask at all, it’s his own work-a-holicness that led to the creation of his public personas.  He’s an obsessive strategist, so if Brucie is a choice, that leads us to why?

Bruce does many philanthropic things with his money, but he isn’t the only rich person around, especially not in a city as old and corrupt as Gotham.   But he’s one of the very few ones doing good with it.

The comic you mentioned has a very beautiful moment where Bruce touches on that, and in full context you can feel how consumed he is by this goal of creating the Gotham his parents would have wanted.  Batman mentions he never sees himself in that place, and the morbid interpretation is that the city kills him before he reaches it, but the hopeful interpretation is that in that shining city, Bruce Wayne and Batman and Brucie and all his masks will no longer be needed.

Detective Comics #725

Back in the old days they’d call it noblesse oblige: the inferred responsibility of privileged people to act with generosity and nobility toward those less privileged. Thomas and Martha Wayne ingrained this feeling of responsibility into Bruce by example, and as all things related to them, he obsesses over it.  It urges him to fulfill expectations within segments of society he finds onorous for the betterment of society as a whole in order to carry out their unfinished works.

Enter Brucie.

Brucie serves a two-fold purpose.  Since Bruce has chosen to maintain personas among society, it becomes a false face to justify any oddities Batman might bring into the life of Bruce Wayne by setting himself up as a eccentric, popular social scion.  But that persona itself also allows him to manipulate the upper crust of society.

I have some insider perspective on the kind of society events Brucie attends.  They’re all about the who’s who of making connections, name-dropping and networking, and unspoken class-based elitism.  Charity events among the upper class have these things at the forefront and the cause is the background.  You don’t get your hands dirty, you don’t go out and make change yourself, you pay money to be socially seen and sometimes it happens to go towards a philanthropic cause.  If you want to raise money from the rich and keep people with deep pockets coming in the door, you have to have social currency yourself. This is where, and why, Brucie comes in.  I believe Brucie ws crafted to maintain Batman’s cover but still attempt to carry on his parents’ legacy to grease the wheels of the rich in the directions he chooses: one of generosity towards those less privileged. 

Superman/Batman #51

The inevitable flaw of Bruce’s approach to his personas and their philanthropy is that in a city rife with corruption, money distributed from the top has many opportunities to disappear well before it reaches the bottom.  As in many of ways they are complements to each other, Dick’s approach balances that out, because his approach to helping his fellow man starts out at the street level...literally.

Nightwing #153 (Nightwing: The Great Leap)

Dick, we know, does not come from privilege.  His mother was from a middle class family before she joined the circus, and despite being world famous athletes, most circus workers are lower to middle class.  The people he grew up with, was comfortable with, were all working folk who expected everyone to pull their weight right alongside each other.  He enacts this everyone-together approach in almost all aspects and phases of his life. 

Batman #615

Even once he had settled into being Robin and adapted to living at the manor, he didn’t feel belonging to a culture of privilege, materialism, or high society. He preferred shotgun in the limo to chat with the driver to riding fancy in the back.  Once he was able to start making his own decisions about where and how he lived, despite having both Bruce’s money and then later inheriting a substantial amount of his own, he chose mostly lower-class communal places.

Batman Black and White #6

Dick also doesn’t see the value of throwing money at a problem when there is an option to fix it with his own hands.  We see this frequently, from building his own car instead of buying a finished one or outsourcing the work, to deciding the best way to clean out the BPD was to start at the bottom and work his way up (literally), to quitting college because his classes never got prioritized over crimesolving.  Most of his day jobs ended for similar reasons. 

Nightwing #153 (Nightwing: The Great Leap)

Despite the showmanship training, he gravitates away from spotlight on the rich and wealthy, who are notoriously the kind of people who do not get their hands dirty or go out and take care of things themselves, and prefers to find or build communities around the kind of people who do.

Finally, Dick is an extrovert.  He doesn’t need to act extroverted as Brucie does because he is extroverted.  He likes people and likes being around people.  Whether by conscious choice or not, he tends to put himself in situations where he is surrounded by people in nearly all aspects of his life.  He chooses apartment buildings whose occupants frequently pass each other on the stairs; jobs that involve interacting with many co-workers, patrons, or students; and collects superhero teammates like Boy Scout badges.  And all of these behaviors come very naturally to him.  

He doesn’t need a mask or a role or a persona for those kind of interactions; his mask is pre-supplied as “neighbor” or “co-worker” or “teacher” by the situations he puts himself in.  It helps make him an exemplary leader, because just by acting authentically to himself, he automatically builds up little communities around him any time he arrives somewhere.

Bruce, on the other hand, is an introvert.  For him, interacting with people isn’t easy, automatic, or comfortable unless it has a purpose, but as a strategist, he knows the necessity of human interaction as a catalyst to achieving dynamic change. So he adapts personas to suit people’s expectations.  Extroverts have more social currency; the life of the party can generate more resources than a brooding wallflower.  

So, it boils down to just a few elements: Dick believes in living and interacting at the street level to accomplish the things that he wants to, and he is extroverted enough that the level of social interaction that entails is not a burden to him.  He surrounds himself with the types of people he is more familiar or perhaps more comfortable with, which happens to keep him further out from the media’s eye than associating with the upper crust does. The lower profile is more incidental than intentional, but it lessens his need to have a cover story for every single bruise and lets him get away with even less of a ‘persona’.

Bruce, on the other hand, is introverted and follows a more classist view that systemic change needs to be effected from the top down.   His personas are more of a self-assumed duty than a necessity, as a way of trying to carry out his parents’ legacy.  Any of his children could have chosen to follow his path in business or the high society limelight, but the sense of obligation toward it is something personal to him that most of them don’t share.

[xenetala]

Piofiore: Fated Memories Review

I’ll keep this as spoiler free as possible, but with this game that may be a bit difficult. This is just my thoughts on the game and its quality. This game overall is really well done and if you are familiar with Amnesia Memories, you’ll really enjoy this one.

There are a few things I’d like to give people a heads up on in this one. First, this is a game about the Mafia. While it should be obvious, many people who play otome games may not realize this isn’t like the sweet games such as Kissed by the Baddest Bidder. Please do not play this game if you are sensitive to blood, gore, death, rape, drug abuse, psychological abuse, torture, violence, general crime, and other such themes. While you can play the best routes and avoid too much of this, you will be exposed to some pretty gruesome and brutal things in this game.

The second thing I’d like to give a heads up on is you have to play the routes in a semi set order to unlock things. By this I mean you don’t get to completely choose who you play at first. While this by no means makes the game bad, it’s something to think about before playing. You may not get to choose your favorite boy right off.

If you do play this, I have a recommended play route. I recommend this based on the lore of the world. That’s not to say you have to play this order, but I think it’ll give a better feel for the world.

While you can start with either Dante or Nicola, I’d recommend playing through Dante’s route first and follow his route with Orlock. While Yang is my absolute favorite boy by far, I recommend playing Nicola before Yang. Gilbert’s route you can’t play until you’ve played the other 4 so Dante > Orlock > Nicola > Yang is my recommended order, but Dante > Nicola > Orlock > Yang isn’t a bad order either.

Overall Story

This is a really good story. There’s a lot of absolutely lovable characters in it and I wish there were more routes. I also wish the stories were longer just because of how good the characters are. Even the supporting characters are great. The setting is in Italy during the 1920′s. There are a few references to world events around that time such as World War I, the depression, American prohibition, and several other things that happened around the world.

The game takes a lot of the terms and historical things and puts them in a nice handy dictionary in case the audience isn’t familiar with them. Personally I find all of the references common knowledge, but then I’m also a history buff so that may not be the case.

As far as the plot goes, the basis is you play an MC who grew up in a church in a small mafia run city. Depending on the route, the MC gets captured or rescued by one of the three mafia groups and ends up in their care as a guest. The three groups are the Italian based Falzone, the mixed heritage Visconti, and the Chinese based Lao-Shu.

Each route has a different part of the story and history of the world and the town as well as a different perspective. Some of the routes are more peaceful while others not so much. In all of them, the MC is one I consistently like. Despite being brought up in a quasi Roman Catholic based belief system, she’s quite down to Earth and many times stands up to the mafia so that earns her many points in my book.

The one thing in this game that I feel is a big missed opportunity is the character Roberto De Feo. I would have loved to see him as an option in this game. Especially after playing all of the routes including the hidden one, I feel like he would have made a nice addition to the story.

Characters

This game has a really good set of characters and even the supporting characters are good so I’m going to go over quite a few people in this. I’ll break these down by factions to help keep things orderly. Each character does have a best, good, and tragic ending. Some of them are really good, but the tragic ones to be pretty brutal to play.

Also, a fun note in the CGs you can press a button to hear the character’s comments on the scene.

Falzone Family

Dante Falzone - This is the first route I recommend playing. He’s kind of the ‘canon’ route in this and goes over a lot of the lore of the world. It can get a bit overwhelming to keep up with all of the mythology of the game, but you will need that information for later routes.

He’s introduced as the cold and cruel boss of the Falzone, but in reality he’s more of the slightly cold gentleman. While he can be cruel as evidenced in a torture scene, he’s really very sweet and you see much more of his caring side as the story progresses. I’m not a fan of his route as it is way sweeter than I’d like for a mafia boss, but it is the most romantic one.

In this route the MC spends most of her time confined with Dante and is more of a prisoner than a guest in my opinion. She’s not allowed to roam free much and is quite dependent on Dante. There is a lot of violence in this route and is one of the more gruesome ones in a few places. I actually like his good ending better than the best ending. His tragic end is really sad so beware. It’s not as brutal as others, but it’ll tug your heartstrings. Death can bring more peace than life. 

Leo Cavagnis - While not a love interest, Leo is an adorable character. He’s assigned as the MC’s body guard in anything related to the Falzone family. I would like to have seen him as a romance option just because it’d be nice to have a choice other than only higher ranking mafia members, but even without him being an option he’s a fun character in all of the routes.

Nicola Francesca - He is the underboss for the Falzone family and is Dante’s cousin. I liked his route much more than I thought I would and he is more what you’d expect for a mafia themed game. It is mentioned in all routes a few times that Nicola is more suited to being the boss than the underboss, and I agree with this.

Nicola is presented as a playboy, but though he’s flirty he’s not really a playboy. He has a lot of charisma and appears nice, but there is a cruel side to him. This is showcased in how he treats his men and in a torture scene. His route has almost none of the lore and is refreshing in that fact.

The MC is still more of prisoner in this one, but she’s not as dependent on Nicola. Even though I’d say Nicola is more ruthless than Dante, this route is actually one of the less violent ones. I will warn that his route is predictable and not quite as exciting to play as far as plot twists and such. Despite that, this is a fun route and the MC gets to showcase a bit more strength than in some of the others.

He is really tied to his idea of trying to free Dante from the curse of his blood and duties so Nicola often acts brashly and without really trying to understand others. This makes him quite focused on his own goals. His best ending is a great ending and for sure deserves to be called the best ending. I don’t really care for his good ending as much. While not sad, he’s too much of a mafia boss for the good ending to really fit him. His tragic ending is a work of art.

Giulia Ceste - She is the motherly housekeeper of the Falzone and takes care of the MC a lot when in the company of the Falzone family. While not a big character, she does help create some humor in the routes and is always a welcome addition when things get really serious.

The Church

Just a few notes on this ‘faction’. This group plays different roles in each route and doesn’t really follow a branch of the Christian religions. Even though the set up is implied to be the Roman Catholic branch, the lore behind this church isn’t really clear on things. There’s a relic mentioned and that relic is given all sorts of explanations as to what it is, but in reality very little of this game really follows any specific branch. So, if you find yourself confused on this group that’s normal.

Josef von Rosburg - Josef is a bishop for the church and has varying roles depending on the route you play. For the most part he’s reasonably pious and does things on behalf of what he believes to be the best for the church. Although, as the saying goes the road to hell is paved with the best of intentions.

Orlock - This boy is all cinnamon roll and I did not like his route until I played all endings. Part of the problem I have with his route is he’s so naïve and innocent that he comes off as childlike. After seeing him in some of the other routes I’d had the expectation that he’d be more of a cold hearted assassin than he is.

That I think colored my perceptions too much to fully enjoy this route and is partly why I recommend him as the second one you play. He is a disciple which basically just means he’s an assassin for the church.

He is absolutely devoted to the MC to the point of basically worshiping her and can see no fault in anything she does. This route is one of the more violent ones and uncovers more of the lore of the world. Orlock feels much younger than the MC because of his innocence despite being able to kill just about anyone.

The good route I liked a lot more than the best route in this one and that’s partly because he didn’t feel as much like a child in that end. The tragic route though changed my mind about his story a bit though. I love his tragic route. It is brutal and merciless, but you see him as an adult and not like a child. Plus, I’m a sucker for a good gut wrenching tragedy that just makes you question why you’d put yourself through the torture of reading it.

Elena Croce - This girl is the MCs best friend and someone she grew up with in the church. Her role varies depending on the route, but she’s generally a quite girl and is good at cooking.

Sister Sofia - She is one of the sisters in the church and is the mother figure of the story. She knows MC’s history and why she’s so important, but keeps things secret from her to prevent her from carrying a heavy burden.

Oliver Haas - Sadly this is another one that doesn’t have a romance option. Oliver is the Visconti family lawyer and helps smooth things over when members of the family get arrested. He is very strict and is often reprimanding Gilbert for things. It would be interesting to see the story from his perspective for sure.

Visconti Family

Gilbert Redford - He is the leader of the Visconti family and was born in Chicago. Gilbert has ties to the US and the mafia in Chicago. Unlike the Falzone family, he had to earn his way to the boss of the faction and wasn’t passed to him through blood ties.

This route is the most peaceful route. Though Gilbert is mafia, he is a businessman first and foremost. In his story the MC has a lot more freedom as she leaves the manor and tours sections of the city with Gilbert. Much of the MC’s time with him is more like being on dates.

Even though this route is far less violent than the others and softer in many respects, this one has more intrigue. Gilbert is the type that fights with strategy more than with violence so there’s a lot of intelligence gathering and plotting.

Basically the premise is that Gilbert is being framed for a crime and everyone is trying to clear his name. Due to the nature of the crime, it affects all of the families and even Yang is willing to help out Gilbert through this ordeal. The whole story is really a build up to the big finale of the case and you get to see aspects of all the characters in a very different light.

I really like his endings. All of them fit the story and are beautifully done. One of the things I like most about Gilbert’s story is everyone sticks together and helps out.

Lan - She is one of the twins that is assigned as the MC’s guard when in company with the Laou-Shu. This girl is absolutely adorable and creates a lot of fun moments. As cute and sweet as she is, she is also very strong and will kill someone without a second thought.

Laou-Shu

Yang - He is by far my favorite of all the characters. Yang is highly intelligent and very skilled in combat. This is show cased by the fact that he is bored without intrigue or other shenanigans to provide him amusement. The MC in this route is one of the more interesting ones in my opinion. Her intelligence really shines through in this one because in order to survive Yang she has to think on her feet a lot.

One of the things I really liked about this route is there were more fun scenes in it. While Yang’s route is by far the most brutal and violent, there are points that are just good fun and provide some of that cute romantic mishap stuff we all kind of want in these games.

The Laou-Shu is a different type of mafia group from the others and this story is in opposition to the lore of the world. Pretty much everyone gets killed and there’s a lot of misfortune in Yang’s route. He is a violent person who grew up under less than ideal circumstances. The MC is gets involved in the goings on with the Laou-Shu and is brought to some pretty grisly things.

I’ve seen quite a few people compare Yang’s personality to that of Hisoka from the anime Hunter x Hunter and I agree that they have similarities. Both live for the moment and share the bloodlust from a good battle with a strong opponent. He is also a master manipulator and very good at twisting words to get exactly what he wants. His best and tragic endings are simply gorgeous, but his good ending isn’t as fun. It’s not a badly done ending, but I would have liked them both to die in it.

Fei - He is the other of the twins that guard the MC when in the company of the Laou-Shu. He’s very protective of his sister and is the calming force for her. Just like Lan, as adorable as he is he can and will kill someone without a second thought.

Marco Caldroni - He is the other detective that comes into the game and is more often than not trying to keep Roberto in check. Marco is more okay with letting the mafia deal with things than his partner is and tends to either stay out of the way or help in cases where civilians are in danger.

Police

Roberto De Feo - This guy grows on you as you play the game. At first I really didn’t like him and especially so after playing Nicola’s route, but they really should have given him an option. I’d rather have been able to play Roberto than Orlock. Roberto is a newer detective with the police force and has a very strong idea of what justice is. He does not like that the town is overrun with mafia and that the mafia controls everything. This guy tends to pop up and pick fights with some of the mafia members.

Others

??? - This is a hidden route that is only unlocked after you’ve played through all of the others. You learn a lot more about the lore of the world and the MC is pretty much on her own in this route. I found this route very boring and the person you romance in this is too haunted by the past for me to really enjoy them.

As much as I love a good redemption story or even a good tragedy, this route is so boring. I would much rather have this be a totally different character’s route. While I get this person’s story helps fill in the gaps from Gilbert’s route, this gentleman is one of those revenge is everything types and I’m just not onboard with him. The endings are a peaceful kind of harem ending for the best ending and I don’t mind that one too much. There is a romance ending and I just don’t care for this character enough.

I get wanting revenge, but I find the all consuming revenge to the point of self-destruction and destruction of everything you hold dear just stupid. That’s how this romance goes. Reminds me a lot of the Sasuke and Sakura stuff from the anime Naruto.

[nurseofren]

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Read chapter twenty-three

Title: Prove it

Words: 6800

Warnings: Talks of pregnancy, mentions of vomit

Summary: A friend. A foe?

ST Rambles: I look pretty good for a dead bitch.

Okay. In all seriousness. In the five weeks that I have not updated, it has been chaos. School is absolutely kicking my ass this semester and I am not afraid to say it. Maternal-Newborn is a hell I would not wish on my worst enemy. With this said, I know any further updates will be sporadic, BUT - and I say this to snuff out any doubt on the matter - I will never, EVER, abandon this story. However it ends, rest assured that it will, in fact, do just that.

I thank you all for your patience and encouragement. This story is something I care deeply about and it just floors me that others do as well. I love interacting with you all, either on here or tumblr or TikTok (if you've made one and I haven't seen it, please tag me! My fyp does not work in my favor lol).

Be kind. Don't forget to be a person. All you can do is try your best.

[MASTERLIST] | BANNER/@elmidol

Good afternoon,

I can only hope this correspondence finds you safe and well.

The Board of Physicians sympathizes during this time of displacement and potential grieving. There are countless variables to be considered during uncertain times like these, but those of your safety and well-being are of the utmost importance. In an effort to convey the depth of our understanding, a unanimous vote has approved the decision to extend the dates of the trial by seven days. Upon receiving this official communication, you should plan to arrive on Canto Bight a minimum of two days prior to the morning of the initial hearing. An updated outline has been attached at the end of this e-mail for reference and sent to all pertinent parties.

Per the initial correspondence, Commander Ren is to receive a new provider prior to the trial’s start date. This objective has been met with the solemn barrier of the diminished population of approved nurses and physicians which resulted from the recent tragedy of Starkiller Base. There have been additional unforeseen circumstances also working to lengthen and altogether halt this approval process. Rest assured that we are doing everything in our power to ensure the trial proceedings occur in an organized and professional manner.

The emergent provider shortage, along with the unknown – and likely diminished – amount of surveillance retained from Starkiller Base prior to its destruction, has laid the foundation for the discussion of potential and probable employment during your time on Canto Bight. The discussions surrounding this issue are in their infancies. Should it be that you are to assume a care position during your trial, you will receive a further updated and in-depth itinerary. This would include the dates, times, and location you would be expected to work; this information would be accompanied by any specific limitations regarding your scope of practice while on trial.

Though you are encouraged to reach out to discuss any questions or concerns you may have pertaining to these new developments, the current agenda is to be followed with strict compliance. Should there be any changes, as stated previously, I will communicate these to you in a timely and conscious manner.

Respectfully,

Karmen Zag, Esq.,

Head of Communications,

The Board of Physicians

“Yeah, well, you can go fuck yourself Karmen Zag. Stupid ass name anyway.”

Not that anyone could hear you, nor that anyone would care, you could not help the petty jab. Karmen Zag, the faceless mouthpiece of the institution actively seeking your death, had little to do with anything. Karmen Zag was not the one who had carved initials into your body; that person was elusive to you now. Karmen Zag was not the one who kept you from sleep; that person was dead, killed by the trembling hands of the very survivor they’d created. Karmen Zag was not the one you were currently hiding from; that person, achingly kind and too ignorant to know different, still came to pick you up from shift every night.

Cramped in the corner of a supply room, you sat with your knees tucked to your chest and your datapad resting on your thighs, eyeing the vent at the bottom of the door to spy Mason’s tapping foot. In the seven days since waking up in the medbay, six days since returning to work to help with the increased patient population – or, at least that’s what you were telling yourself – you had found yourself with a desperate need to distance yourself from Mason. He was unaware of all that was haunting you, nescient to the fact he was at the epicenter of the majority of it. To see him was to remember the choice you’d made, to hate yourself for regretting it, to be morally ripped in half by the unwavering war in the back of your mind.

The first three days he would always sneak up on you, flurries of white lies leaving while you fumbled away from him and into the nearest room. I’m on call tonight was your favorite. No, you weren’t, though you had been staying in the on-call rooms to hide the fact that you no longer held a residence on this ship. No matter if you had not received official word on your employment status, you felt an unease when thinking of returning to Kylo Ren’s quarters. It felt too broken, like you’d be a stranger somewhere you’d once considered a home.

Eventually, Mason being an inherent creature of habit, you’d picked up on his timing. On the fourth day you’d decided to stake him out, finding he would spend exactly ten minutes waiting, send a message to your commlink, spend another five toying with his own as he waited for a response, eventually asking whoever was nearest to tell you to call him. You never did. It was despicable, watching his hope falter as the days passed and you were never there to leave with him; wretched, but that did not make it any less necessary.

So long as you were away from Mason, you couldn’t hurt him. If you could create a rift between the two of you so great as to discourage any further interaction, you could save him from all the suffering that came along with being associated with you. On the other hand, you couldn’t deny the comfort you felt in deferring any conversation with him. Avoidance may not be a healthy coping mechanism, but all the ones you’d learned of in school were useless to your set of circumstances; there was no talking this through, no way to speak of Snoke or Kylo or Robbie without getting someone else hurt. You were trapped in your own, sole company; whoever you had become recently, you were barely tolerant of them, let alone fond. It was growing increasingly difficult to recognize your own reflection. At some point you figured you might stop looking altogether.

Zag’s update had been present in your inbox ever since returning to work; with each read through – which, now, you’d have read a hundred times – you felt time pass by. Each night you spent time tucked away here, the cold tile permeating the scrub pants you now wore; the uniform you’d had on when you arrived back on the Finalizer had been too tattered to reuse. Not that you wanted to wear it; in those tattered, bloodied threads lay the obvious truth of how entirely you had failed at the only assignment you had ever been trusted with.

Trusted. The thought made you shiver. Yes. Trusted. Past tense. In every sense it could be. Thus, folded into yourself, away from prying eyes or well-meaning friends, you scrolled aimlessly up and down the message. Though its existence annoyed you, knowing full well that there was no empathy or genuine concern behind the decision to delay the trial, it also brought you ease to know this portion of your life was almost over. Again you were embracing the possibility of your death, only this time rooted in hatred for yourself, not Kylo Ren.

“Alright, well, can you tell her-,”

“Tell her to call you. Got it. Do every night.” One of your coworkers had grown exasperated with Mason – or was it with you? Either way, peeking through the vent slats, you spied Mason’s legs drag out of view. It made your heart fall, feeling more disgusted with yourself each day; it was this confusing combination of feeling a pull to run after him, to apologize to him with every breath you had left, only for that initial urgency to be swallowed by the knowledge that the action would be futile.

With tired eyes, not having gotten more than two hours of unbroken sleep since the sixteen you’d woken from, you looked to your left wrist. It was a routine gesture, pointless in the fact you had not worn the watch since finding it on your bedside table. Much like your uniform, only agonizingly amplified, the sight of the gadget inspired a hollowness in your chest. It remained in a pillowcase, hidden atop the bed you’d claimed. Each night you toyed with it, thumbed at the lifeless screen and wondered if it would ever offer another flicker; each night you caught the hazy reflection of two unfamiliar eyes, finding only the remnants of shattered promises staring back at you.

A sigh crept into your lungs when you stood, arms stretching and hands smoothing back your hair before going to activate the door. It hissed open without your indication; before you could question how, two hands pushed you out of the way and sent you flying face first into the storage shelves. Nose first, actually; the collision rang through your ears, pain throbbing in prominence as you stumbled for stability, arms widespread and eyes pinched shut.

“Oh! You have to be kidding!” Copper crept down your upper lip, cascading over your sharp tongue, foggy eyes opening to blood-stained fingers. “Watch where you’re going, jeez!”

Away from you sounded the door as it shut, but that wasn’t the sound that alarmed you. Across the room, near the sink – at least you hoped it was near the sink – came the horrendous retching that could only indicate vomit. The longer you listened, though, all the while blindly searching for a package of gauze, you found it wasn’t vomit, but an attempt towards it; echoes of dry heaves wracked the room, vomit absent even as the stranger continued in their effort toward expulsion.

A spill of winces left you, a grimace following suit when you tipped your head back, blood draining down your throat. You found a box of gauze squares and tore it open, peeling away a layer and rolling it into a cone before pushing it into one nostril. Vessels pounded against the material, injury soaking into it as you caught your breath.

“I’m so sorry,” a familiar voice said, groggy and breathless. “The refresher was occupied, and the occupancy indicator wasn’t on.” She took another breath, gasping back spit. “I figured the sink in here would do.”

Another person you’d been avoiding. Talia. Sick. As she would be, of course. It was something you’d fought thoughts on; it was too confusing, too unnerving to put the pieces you’d been offered together. Hux had left her room, had been so distraught. Talia had seized and ended up in the medbay. Armitage. Stars, how that word haunted you in the way it left her paling lips. She’d been so disoriented, so scared. Glassy eyes and green pallor. And the person she’d asked for was Armitage.

With these thoughts, dizzying as they had become, came the image of the very thing that tied them all together: that square-cut, printed, glossy ultrasound picture. Between nightmares of Robbie and desperately trying to find any amount of sleep, you saw it clear in your head, remembered how you’d lost your ability to stand when you first considered the reality of it. It all made sense clinically; the symptoms, the tangible evidence showing a yolk sac, the patient identifiers framing the monochrome image.

But, when you remembered running into Hux, remembered the ghost in his eyes and felt the rather unsettling demeanor – one not marked with errant hatred – he’d met you with, it all started to blur. Jumble. Your mind rejecting the thought that Talia and Hux-

Talia mewled, your eyes opening to find white knuckles outfitting a vise grip over the sink’s metal edge. The fluorescent lights lining the ceiling made it all too easy to see how sick she really was. Tears glinted down her cheeks, her hair dull in its tousled bun, a string of spit straying from her bottom lip; there was a suggestion of green just below the surface of her skin, exhaustion evident in the lavender drapes below her eyes.

A shaky breath left her before she rested against the sink, elbows bent and fingers rolling over her temples. For a moment there was a deafening silence, one that strangled you and emphasized the throbbing in your nose when you stopped breathing. It dissipated when Talia groaned, her head drooping and stance shifting.

“At least shift is done, right?” She sounded like she was talking to anyone. She didn’t know it was you. She didn’t know you knew.

Swallowing, dropping your hand from your face, you tried to think of anything to say. But nothing would come. And, considering how little time you had left to know her – execution or not – you saw no point in frivolous small talk.

“How far along are you?” It was a low rasp; frail in its existence yet bludgeoning the quiet that had preceded it.

She didn’t look up, but you knew she recognized your voice; her every muscle stalled, hair even stilling as your words sank into her. It was the first thing you’d said to her since she’d seized. In her silent shock it dawned on you that it had not been long since you’d been in a situation similar to this; the two of you, a pitting silence, a mess – obvious and blaring – surrounding you.

Only this mess was not something that could be cleaned. This mess existed outside all you had once thought to consider. Though this room was less gruesome in appearance, it held that same suffocated dread, carried with it the reminder that everything could change without a moment’s notice. Watching the color return to her cheeks, absentmindedly brushing your fingertips across the raised marks atop your thigh, it hit you how true that fact was.

A small sound – a swallow – filled the room, a sigh to accompany it. “Six weeks. I think, at least. Maybe more.” She stood then, crossing her arms and leaning against the sink. A wall stood between you and her, invisible yet so entirely present. “No one knows.” Her jaw fluttered at its hinge. The wall was for her; a façade, a crutch. She was scared.

The door lit cool shivers down your back, hands digging into your pockets, a weak attempt at a smile pulling at your face. “Congratulations,” you offered first, forgetting the circumstances before seeing her eyes fall to the floor. “Or not, I guess.”

She kept her eyes down. “I’m not showing, and I’ve been good about sneaking away to throw up, so…”

“Last week,” you said, her stare coming back to you, “after Starkiller. I fainted after arriving back here, and after I woke up,” I washed the Commander of the First Order’s hair and cried to his comatose body about how my life is falling apart, “I just had to know you were okay, so I visited you.”

“I don’t remember seeing you. I actually… How did you even know I had been admitted to the medbay?”

“You were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.” You chewed your cheek, recounting any of those 48 hours made your pulse jump. “You weren’t well off when I found you, before they took you to the medbay, so I wouldn’t expect you to remember me being there.”

Her brow dipped for half a second, a crack creeping into that wall. “I didn’t know you found me. It’s difficult for me to even recall most of that day.” Her shoulders dropped, stature less rigid now. “Thank you, though.”

You nodded, not entirely sure why she felt it necessary to thank you. “Yeah. So, you were sleeping and I saw the tests ordered on your board. And then I found your ultrasound on the floor.”

Her eyes were so distant, pupils housing a familiar ghost. “It must have fallen when I was sleeping.” Her lips parted with the whisper, egregious loneliness overwhelming the thought.

It felt like the floor would fall out at any second, the interaction so fragile. Watching her with intent, measuring her reactions, you charged ahead into territory you’d been afraid to enter for so long.

“Talia,” you started, buying more time to think on your phrasing. Her focus startled back from wherever her mind had taken her. “I mean, maybe this is ridiculous, and maybe I’m so far off base in even suggesting it…”

Her arms dropped when a hand reached to tuck a collection of stray hair behind her ear, nose sniffing, teeth pulling at her bottom lip. She took her eyes from yours, breath picking up. That wall she stood behind was wearing.

You couldn’t stand beating around the bush any longer, sick of theorizing about it all. It fled out, no breath to separate any of it. “I’ll just say it: Hux was leaving your room when I came around. And he was being weird. So weird. I mean, he was being… would I say nice? Maybe just, less awful? He complimented me. And it was so weird, but I thought I would give him the benefit of the doubt because, you know, he’d just lost a lot of men. But then it was you in the room and I.. he was so distraught? That is barely the right word, but I mean? He just wasn’t General Hux. And then I found the ultrasound and remembered how you’d asked for ‘Armitage’ earlier when I’d found you, and-,”

A weep signaled the destruction of the wall she’d thrown up, hands clawing into her eyes and lungs heaving full of ragged, desperate air. “Oh, please tell me you didn’t tell him! He can’t- I don’t!” Sobs rolled off of her between each exclamation. “I haven’t told him. I don’t know how. I- he’s so evil! I can’t believe I ever slept with him!”

Seeing her come apart, feeling the guilt she did in every word she cried, you could only think to take her into your arms. In your hold you felt her shaking and the pain roll off of her in thick, grating waves. It was familiar, like she, too, had been existing alone; you had not noticed, so buried in your own avoidance that you had not thought to consider hers.

“I’m so sorry! I’m so- I’m so sorry! It makes me so mad that- ugh!”

“Hey, stop. Slow down,” you soothed, hugging her tighter. “You have nothing to apologize to me for. You’ve done nothing wrong, okay?”

“No, I have! I slept with my Master! And got pregnant! And he’s such a fucking jerk! He’s the whole reason you’re losing your career, you know? And I had sex with him! And I feel- felt real things for him!” A breath stuttered into her lungs. “I never meant for it to go any further than that first night, and then… fuck.”

It burned down to your marrow that you had the power to comfort her, knew everything she was feeling even if it wasn’t hatred that left you crying at night. She would be embraced in knowing you had also slept with your Master; it would minimize the guilt she now felt. To tell her you had fallen for Kylo Ren could help her know that she wasn’t alone.

Instead, feeling her tears accumulate on your sleeve, struggling to keep in your own, you kept quiet. She would not learn how you had burned so bright for your commander. It was selfish, but it was necessary. Self-preservation. She would be testifying against you, taking the stand right after Hux. Her not knowing would do no harm; it would keep her from having to consider or commit perjury. Talia now joined Mason, another soul to protect, another person you would lie to.

Several minutes passed before she stopped trembling, another few before the tears stopped staining your uniform. Humanity existed in these moments, and though you would hide how you knew the advice you would offer her, you knew she needed to hear it. A part of you did, too.

Moving your arms from her back and grasping both her shoulders, you locked eyes with her and forced her to see that you somehow understood her pain. “There is nothing to feel guilty about. Not that you slept with him, or that you got pregnant. Not that you felt things for him or that you still do.” Her eyes shut at that, a fresh streamlet dragging into her mouth. “You can still love him even if he has done awful things.”

“Gosh, how can you say that? He’s ruined your life,” she shuddered, grimacing before looking back up to you.

“I made the choice to take that blood. I had a choice,” your throat tightened, not knowing if you were reciting the words from their origin or from your dream, “I made the one I thought was the best at the time. Hux may be an ass in the way he has gone about the issue, but it’s not like he wouldn’t have reported me.”

She sobbed your name, confusion and hurt wrought in her features. “That blood saved that patient. You saved that patient. We both know that. You saved him and you’re suffering for it and I’m the one who wrote the incident report. He made me write it. Such a fucking bastard.”

Just like that, whatever weird internal truce you’d made with Hux disappeared. “Yeah, that is a dick thing to do, I will say that.”

She wiped at her cheeks, shaking her head. “I should have lied on that report.”

“And gotten both of us in trouble? That isn’t a solution.”

“If I had, you would be less alone in this. And I wouldn’t have to testify against you.” Talia’s eyes shot to the ceiling and back, frustration hot on her breath. “It’s just so-,”

“Unfair. I know. I have… I’ve beaten myself up about it too much not to know that.” This conversation was too similar to those you’ve held inwardly. It was becoming repetitive to keep sulking over something you could not change. But Talia, if she wanted, could change her situation. “We went through the same program, got the same schooling, I know you know your options here.”

She chewed her cheek, shaking her head. A long drag of breath found its way into her chest, releasing when your hands fell to your sides. “This is where you find out how stupid I am.”

It pulled at your heart to hear how hard she was being on herself. “You aren’t stupid. And if you are? Could’ve fooled me with your class rank and just general existence.”

A laugh, weak but not acrid. “Academics were easy. Career is easy. This life stuff? Messy. Complicated. I feel like no matter what I do, it will blow up in my face.” That earlier distance glazed over her stare, a glimmer of yearning present in the way her eyebrows pinched. “And what I want…think I want? I’m not sure it’s even possible.”

“What do you want?”

Talia shut her eyes, capitulation and indignance set in her features, jaw flexed. “I haven’t spoken to him since that night,” she whispered. “He watched me fill out that report. I was sobbing in front of him and he said nothing.” A hand smoothed over her hair and clutched into her bun, lips quivering for a moment. “I didn’t even know until last week. I woke up for a few minutes and they started talking about all that had happened – fainting and seizures and blood tests – and they immediately wheeled me down to have an ultrasound to confirm the hCG results and urinalysis.”

She paused, growing in distance the more she shared. “Was it just your electrolytes that caused the seizure?”

“Yeah. Yes.” She blinked back to the present. “Belkar actually said I was severely dehydrated and that my metabolic panel reflected that.” Talia was dancing between two timeframes; gentleness framed her face when revisiting that of the past. Something so delicate in her stare; adoration cusping on hope. “I always told myself I would never have children. It scared me seeing how sick they could become when we had our unit on pediatrics. I’d never wanted to feel so helpless as the parents I saw during clinical.”

It almost winded you to watch a single tear slip down her cheek, allowing her silence during her pause before she looked up at you, desperation drowning her eyes. She couldn’t find – or, maybe, did not want to believe – the words that overwhelmed her. “What changed?” You knew, but she needed to hear it for herself.

Her lips had become puffy, teeth pulling at the bottom one. She reached into the front pocket of her scrub dress, pulling from it that square print, only now with rolled, worn corners. “I know it’s early and there are so many things that can go wrong and I know I had been drinking before I knew, but…” A swallow bobbed her throat, a fond smile forming when she toyed with the scan. “When they handed this to me? Something just, I don’t know, came into view.”

A surge of immense pain coiled into you. In her reverie you saw yourself, realized how fortunate her situation was; she had something she wanted and even though it was complicated, she had a choice in the matter.

Again, her mind had wandered, distraction framing her tone; her brows pinched together for a second, a question sparking from her memories. “Have you ever wanted something so much, and maybe you didn’t fully understand it, but you just knew? For whatever reason, this was the thing you would do everything in your power to make possible? To have what you want, no matter how daunting or nonsensical it seemed?”

“Yeah,” you choked out, coughing against the new strain on your throat, “I think so.” Talia had that ability, though, and it cracked against your skull how helpless you were to go after what you wanted.

“You said that I could still love him if he’s done awful things,” she quoted, her attention returning to you. “I don’t love him. I don’t think I really know him that well. But…” She shook her head, shoulders shrugging and a puff of breath leaving her nose. “I miss him. It’s so dumb, but the bastard is nice to be around when he isn’t buried in politics. When he’s just a person. When he isn’t the General. When he’s just—” another smile, similar to her earlier one “—Armitage.”

“That has to be the strangest part of this whole thing.” A small laugh bubbled past your lips. It had been so long since the last one. “Armitage.”

“It was very odd at first. But I’m not going to cry out General, oh please General! when I’m cumming, so I got over it.”

Dumbfounded, all you could do was gawk at her candor. It warmed you, though, feeling like that first night you’d hung out with her. A good memory. Her cheeks pinked in your silence and the sight pulled you straight into a ruckus of laughter, tears – born in pain, falling from humor – and lightheartedness. It was short lived, but Talia joined in your fit; abashed giggles leaving her smile-tight face.

“I mean, I feel like it would be weirder if you were sleeping with Commander Ren.” Talia jabbed at your shoulder. “Calling him… Kylo? That just feels downright wrong.”

Instantaneously, your high fizzling into nothing before her, you found yourself right where you were when you’d said your first goodbye. Ky. It wilted your heart, shrouded whatever glimpse of happiness you’d just caught. Talia was too lost in the joke to notice you’d backed away from her, face turned so she couldn’t see the suffering rise to the surface.

“Ha, yeah. Wrong. So, so wrong.” You cleared your throat, brushing past the weak attempt at nonchalance, ready to be off this subject. “So you miss him? You miss… Armitage? Yeah, no. I’m gonna stick to Hux, if that’s alright?”

A final laugh lit from her chest, Talia waving you off. “That’s fine, of course. And yeah. I miss him.” Her brow furrowed. “Do you think it could work? Me and him, and—” she gestured down to her abdomen, placing the scan back in her pocket “—this?”

This was none of your business, and you doubted anything you could say would help her, but there was genuine curiosity in her voice. There was respect in how she wanted your insight into something so intimate and personal.

A sigh preceded your reply, unsure if you were speaking to her or yourself. “I think… Just as you said earlier: no matter if its daunting or nonsensical or even completely impossible – if you want it and you are willing to do everything in your power to get it?”

Hope lit behind her eyes, bloomed in her chest at the suggestion. “It could work.”

Struggle hid behind a mask of hope. Of course she did not know how it pained you to offer words that would never exist for yourself, and it wasn’t fair to ruin her moment of clarity with the bitter bite of ill-placed jealousy. There was no part of you that envied her condition, but instead what it entailed; you coveted her ability to choose the life she wanted.

Talia shook her head free, a giggle warm on her breath. “We should get out of here. Night shift is gonna run us off soon. You have the time?”

“Uh, not readily available. But I’m sure it’s way past shift change.” You started toward the door.

“Hey, I noticed you’ve been staying in the on-call rooms?”

“Oh.” It surprised you that she’d noticed. The knowledge warmed you to your core, both from embarrassment and appreciation. “Yeah, I know you guys have been swamped down here with all the fallout from Starkiller, so I just thought I’d stay near to help out.”

She tsked, your name a mocked plead. “You are Starkiller fallout. You need to rest. Especially now that you can. I got an update from Zag about the trial. You’ve got, what? Three or four days before Canto Bight? Seven until the initial hearing?”

She’d done the same math you’d gone over at length. Hearing it from someone else’s mouth made it that much more real. Frightening. “I know. I do, I know. But what’s wrong with spending them here?”

“You know as much as I do that working constantly drains the absolute soul from you. Even just working these past three days I have been dying for my time off.”

“Yeah, but you have a reason to be tired.”

“I’m pregnant. You survived a planet exploding all the while keeping the Commander of the First Order alive. Are you forgetting that?”

Talia, I wish I could forget all of it. “No, I’m just-,”

“And I know you’ve been blowing off that McCarty guy. He’s a physician, right?”

Maybe you’d been less discreet in your efforts toward avoidance than you thought. It felt like being caught; this web of lies was becoming a strain, less of a benefit, a hinderance rather than protection. “He’s… Mason doesn’t know what he’s asking for, you know?”

“No, I don’t know.” Talia strode to your side, stern eyes on your own. “Look,” a breath softened her demeanor, “whatever happened on Starkiller, whatever you saw or felt – it’s affecting you. I don’t know what it is, and I’m not asking you to tell me – though, you can tell me anything – but at some point it becomes a choice to remain stagnant in grief.”

“Hey!” Talia had always been blunt, but her audacity now clawed at your patience.

“Okay, sorry, yes that was very harsh,” she placed a firm hand on your shoulder, “but you are the one who made me realize that. Here. Now.”

Tears threatened but remained stuck in your throat. “Like you said, I’m alone in this. I have to be.”

“The way I see it, you aren’t-,”

“Talia, I am.”

“You aren’t. Me being here and that physician coming here every night is proof of that.” You met her with silence. She shrugged. “You could have left me to deal with my issues alone, but you saw me and knew I couldn’t.” More silence on your part, her stare flicking between your eyes. “I see you. You can’t deal with this alone. I won’t let you.”

You fought to hide them, but one by one fell the tears you had not permitted before. For so long it seemed you had been shielding others from hurt, ensuring a safety they were not aware they needed. Talia was offering that to you, now. Rejection was the first instinct to kick in, feelings of doubt and thoughts of I do not deserve this blaring in urgency.

But then she spoke, naming what you had been too scared to confront. “Choose to not be alone. It doesn’t make you a bad person,” her hand left you, overwhelming assurance in her smile, “You’ve been strong for long enough, for so many others. Let someone be strong for you for once.”

The next breath you took was a million times lighter than any you’d had since seeing Kylo those days ago. She really did see you, more than she could ever know. It was imperfect, of course; you weren’t sure anyone would ever be fully aware of how much pain you were in, there was so much you could never share. It was her offer that brought you solace; it may be superficial for you, but Talia was in your corner, and she believed, knew, that it meant something. In her eyes, pooled with intensity, you heard her loud and clear: that oath, born in blood, was renewed here and now, its strength indelible even in silence.

“Now,” she activated the door, its hiss shivering down your spine, “I think Mason would love it if you caught up with him.” The two of you stepped into the hall, already beginning to part paths. “I’d invite you to stay with me but I, uh…”

“You’ll be otherwise predisposed?”

“…We’ll see,” rose bloomed in her cheeks, “I don’t think I’ll tell him. Not tonight. Not yet.”

“Ah,” you sighed, a yawn slipping past.

“Get some sleep! And maybe just… get some, you know?”

The joke registered too late, her paces halfway down the hall before you called out, “Oh. Oh. No, I’m not with- we aren’t anything more than friends.” Not sure if she even heard you, she waved behind her before turning a corner. Well. That’ll need clarifying.

Heat flared in your cheeks, several pairs of eyes weighing on your shoulders at the outburst. Would there ever be a day when you were not embarrassing yourself on this unit? Given this would be the last shift before going to Canto Bight, probably not. Eyes tracking your steps, deciding to surprise Mason instead of call him, you found your way to the on-call room where your entire world was set up; remnants of a past one, at least.

In it you gathered your belongings – a pair of back up scrubs, a toiletries bag, and the lifeless watch. There was a hesitance before placing the device with the other items. Six nights you had spent staring at its blank face, resenting the stranger you’d come to see. Glancing your face before placing it in the bag, you did a double-take. In the most minute details, barely there, you found a familiarity in the eyes you met; they were less dull, something like life or light peeking through the surface.

You dropped the gadget into your pocket, gathered your uniform into the bag, and took a final glance at the shelter you’d sought amidst a storm that had nearly consumed you. Even though nothing had truly mended, there was comfort in the absence of solitude; in the face of probable death, the explicit knowledge that you were not alone made it less daunting. Less impossible.

A final breath brought the door to a close, footsteps leading you into the vast expanse of the Finalizer. The change in air was nice, lungs welcoming the difference and cluing you into the fact you still had a gauze square shoved up your nose. It took a tug to pull it from its place, a sting pinching at the sudden release of pressure.

“Shit,” you hissed, feeling a new stream of warmth trickle past your lips. Two fingers pressed to your mouth, testing for a mirage but coming back with the real thing, red creaks splintering into the ridges of your fingerprint. Without thinking you wiped it down your scrub top, forgetting you were no longer clothed in camouflaging black, but instead unforgiving grey. “Fuck!”

“Wasn’t this how I left you here the last time?”

The airlock must have snapped, lungs solid, muscles frozen. Tension seized your ribcage, pulse plummeting, blood bounding against tuned ears. Every bit of moisture abandoned your mouth. Every bodily process you could think of stopped.

There was no modulation, each word raw, bare, and clear as the last time you had heard their founder. At least, the last time you’d heard it while awake. It was less haunted now, filled not with insidious rage but rather bone-chilling earnest.

“I suppose not, given it’s your blood tonight.”

He drew nearer, boots heavy and steps paced to perfection, the rhythm of his stride an echo of your heart. Kylo Ren was less than three paces from you and all you could do was endure the sensation of a singular ruby droplet following the line of your artery, dragging past your clavicle, and ghosting the skin over your sternum. The crimson trail began to dry, steps no longer sounding when you forced yourself to look up.

Chaos tore into the base of your spine, every nerve ending firing at the sight of his bare face, no helmet to veil the visage you had memorized. The black strip rested in prominence, striking through his features; in it you found a curious attraction, finding it fit him. The wound was less severe now, healing with time. He wore no helmet, but that by no means meant there was no mask keeping him at a distance only he knew the measure of.

“Where have you been, officer?” Cyanosis was a likely reality, breath still evading you as each word fell in baritone; petrified pupils not knowing where to focus. “Your services finally required, and yet you were nowhere to be found.”

Nothing. No words. No sound. No thoughts. Barren in every aspect of cognizance, you remained silent and still, only knowing to perceive him for what he was: superior.

A twitch at his brow, a narrowing of his eyes. Studying. Testing. “How unfortunate; starved for words when they would actually count.” His injury moved fluidly against his words, a beauty in the way it ebbed with each syllable.

A ping sounded at your waist, commlink buzzing in your pocket.

Languid, Kylo’s eyes dipped toward the sound. “You should get that,” he drawled, eyes twitching before conquering yours once more, “could be important.”

His tone haunted you, demeanor too suggestive. You swallowed against a dry throat, locked in his stare, knuckles brushing your watch when you took out your commlink. It trembled in your grip, shocked muscles heavy with weakness. His concentration had become adamant, palpable, an eyebrow prompting your attention to whatever message had triggered the alarm.

Concerning the defendant,

In the week since the previous correspondence, it has come to be that the defendant is to partake in nursing practice during her time on Canto Bight. This allows the Board of Physicians ease in collecting surveillance imperative to their final judgement.

Commander Ren’s decision to bar the defendant from external practice has been nullified as to not contradict this process.

In permitting the defendant’s practice while on trial, the objective to obtain a new provider has been benched. Due to this, the defendant shall remain assigned to her current Master while residing on Canto Bight…

At last, breath flourished your lungs, an inadvertent gasp thrusting a glutton of oxygen into your airway. Crazed eyes darted over the message for any sign of a mistake that would prove it to be falsified; the only thing you could find was finality, a document containing the proposed schedule attached at the end of the message.

A buzz washed through your brain, overstimulated by the information, everything around you suddenly all too close and bright. Jaw bound shut but still trembling, eyes low and unfocused, a familiar pressure flicked just under your chin. The Force tipped your face upward, pupils strict in their position, passing first over a tense jaw and landing at last on the challenge that lay behind Kylo Ren’s glare.

“I’ll see you on Canto Bight, officer.” A serpentine smirk slithered along his lips, one stride bringing him so his face was hidden, shoulder linked with yours, and fingers jut out to graze at the hidden permanence atop your left thigh. His voice, an onslaught of emptiness, a cold threat, suffocated all that surrounded you. “You wanted to give me more? Prove it.”

[thecompleteguidetomisery]

How to Drive Like a Local in Southern California: A Guide for Tourists and Transplants

One of the challenges of getting to know any new city is learning the unspoken rules of its roads. That problem is compounded exponentially by the quirkiness, shall we say, of Southern California (SoCal) drivers. Therefore, in order to reduce the chances of a misunderstanding, visitors and more permanent arrivals would do well to educate themselves as much as possible about how the locals operate. 

Drivers from elsewhere will be used to deferring to traffic laws when deciding who goes first at an intersection (e.g., first to arrive, tie goes to the right, straight before turns, etc.). Visitors and newcomers should know that, as a general rule, traffic laws are only occasionally followed in America’s Finest City. 

For the local, rules of the road really means - only apply these practices if you can remember the rules, and only if you feel like doing so. 

Changing Lanes

Most drivers are accustomed to a predictable practice of changing lanes when travelling on the freeway. For the average transplant or tourist, lanes are to be crossed one-at-a-time, with enough space to do so safely, and only after communicating the intention to do so by using a turn signal.

For the local, though, each of these criterion is optional.

First, SoCal drivers treat their vehicle’s turn signals like EpiPens: they only use them in case of an emergency. 

In other words, to fit in with the locals, avoid your blinkers in all but the direst circumstances. And “dire circumstances” means - you want to get over into an adjacent lane but the butthead next to you either doesn’t care or doesn’t want to make room.

In that case, throw on your blinker as a signal to the butthead that you are about to cut them off.

Then cut them off.

On an unrelated note, San Diegans, and SoCal residents generally, refer to their freeways or highways with the title “The,” as in “The Eight-Oh-Five” or “The One-Sixty-Three.”

As though these are the only entities by those names ever in existence. Or the only ones that matter. The newcomer will be bombarded with references to “The Eight” and “The Five,” and have to resist the temptation to ask, “The Eight? Do you mean the novel by Katherine Neville? Or Quentin Tarantino’s Hateful collection?” or “Which five? The Jackson Five or the Slaughterhouse variety?”

The history is that Los Angeles got the jump on most of the country by building some of their freeways ahead of The Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956. Southern Californians named the roads according to their location, such as “The San Bernardino Freeway.” So there was a local tradition of giving roads more personal names than, say, “Interstate Ninety-Five” on the East Coast.

By the time California reworked its road number system in 1964, the “The” habit was already established. Each of the previously charming names, such as “The Harbor Freeway,” were replaced by their numbered equivalents, as in “The One-Ten.”

Anyway, back to lane changes.

A common place for lane-crossing commotion, in any city, is when a vehicle enters the freeway from an on-ramp and hopes to accelerate less restrictive speeds as soon as possible (i.e., get into the fast lane). Tourists and transplants will be familiar with using their turn signals and gradually working their way over, one lane at a time, until they reach the far left lane.  

Rather than limit yourself to that inefficient practice, slice across all lanes, from freeway entrance ramp to the fast lane, on a sharp diagonal without stopping or slowing. The only remaining issue is whether the drivers around you will force you to put on your turn signal before you cut them off.

Finally, reasonable drivers, when getting off a freeway, plan ahead and gradually move right from the fast lane to the exit ramp. For example, if you’ve ever been driving in the far right lane at high speeds in another part of the country, and became aware that you needed to take an exit in two miles, it’s pretty likely you immediately started to work your way over to the exit ramp, one lane at a time, and made it onto the exit ramp without ruining someone else’s day.

You will need to forget this habit.

Instead, stay in the far right lane until roughly a quarter of a mile before your exit. Then, throw on your blinker (either the right or left will do in a pinch since no one pays attention to turn signals anyway), make a ninety-degree right turn, and travel perpendicular to traffic until you make it to the ramp.

When others honk their displeasure, toss up a breezy wave to show that you forgive them for being uptight.

Remember, for SoCal drivers, the key is to create maximum chaos with every move.

Forced Courtesy

Imagine this scenario.

You are driving on a busy side street in one of Southern California’s many villages and there are cars behind you. 

You are a little distracted by the condition of the roads and remember seeing a headline in the San Diego Union-Tribune the other day announcing America’s Finest City will spend $700K to assess the condition of its streets. As your right front tire drops into a crater-like pothole, you think to yourself, “Hey, Mayor Gloria, I’ll save you the money and trouble. These roads need A LOT of work.”

And for those of you who don’t know, the City of San Diego’s 2022 Budget includes the phrase: “Each neighborhood in San Diego deserves ‘sexy’ streets…”

Sexy?

I’d settle for smooth. Even silky. In fact, I think I’d prefer smooth or silky road to a sexy one. And why would you want to drive on a sexy street? Wouldn’t it be distracting? What makes a street sexy anyway?

Okay, we’ve officially opened Pandora’s celebrated box with THAT question.

So back to your drive. You mentally try not to avoid the question what makes a street sexy when you notice a person standing on the corner of the upcoming intersection. All their body language says they intend to cross the road. They are standing on the edge of the curb, leaning forward, and looking in your direction, obviously waiting for you to pass so they can move forward. Key phrase: waiting for you to pass... as in stationary.

And, finally, in this scenario you do NOT have a STOP sign.

If you are a recent transplant or tourist, you likely watch to make sure the pedestrian doesn’t dart out in front of you and, because the person is not moving and you do NOT have a STOP sign, you don’t stop.

Well, you can only get away with that out-of-town nonsense for so long in SoCal.

In SoCal, the correct procedure, while driving 35mph with cars following closely behind you, upon seeing someone standing on a corner who looks even the least interested in crossing your path, is to abruptly slam on your brakes and wave the now baffled pedestrian across the street.

You might think of this as “forced courtesy.” It’s a way of making yourself feel better by proving to yourself what a considerate driver you are.

Never mind the cars behind you. Expect that they will hit their brakes in time not to collide with your backside. Besides, it’s their job to be on their toes, alert for your capricious whims.

The walker will stare at you with something not far from puzzled annoyance. Being compelled to cross the road when one isn’t prepared is the adult equivalent of a child being shoved into the embrace of a least favorite relative, like that uncle with the bad breath. Or the aunt who is an enthusiastic collector of something boring and insipid, like cocktail napkins.

The pedestrian will freeze, lizard-like, unsure of what to do.

And pause, the way you do when that self-important friend of yours interrupts you to say something so dumb and irrelevant that you have to take a moment to recompose yourself.

The pedestrian will be certain something must be wrong with you, since you’d just stopped for no reason other than to let them, a perfect stranger, walk across your path. Your counterpart will wonder if you are planning to run them over once they step off the curb. Why else would you do something as foolish as this?

What is most important at this point is your commitment. You MUST remain stopped and gently but firmly tell the walker to get moving. This is no longer about courtesy, and was never about safety. This is about satisfying your ego. You decided to be considerate and, damnit, this jerk of a pedestrian had better honor that. And be grateful for it.

And so continue to pressure the passerby to get moving. Don’t be surprised to hear a growing cacophony of car horns as the drivers behind you, not aware of your unilateral decision to disregard traffic laws, pressure you to get moving.

At that point, it will dawn on your counterpart that you are truly a San Diego driver, and that stopping illegally to coerce random pedestrians to cross the street is just one of your quirks.

The pedestrian will give you an appreciative wave and walk in front of your vehicle, looking all the while to their right (i.e., away from you). Don’t be surprised if one of the confused, impatient drivers behind you decides to tear around you just as the hapless pedestrian steps in their path.

The other driver will honk, and because they are busy staring into your vehicle to determine what’s wrong with you for stopping in the middle of the street, they will not see the pedestrian until the last second and only narrowly avoid a needless tragedy.

You and the pedestrian will each look at one another, eyebrows raised to the top of your respective foreheads, puff out your cheeks and slowly exhale as if to say, “Well, that was a close one.”

As you drive off, you can yell to your counterpart, “Some people just don’t know how to drive!”

Four-Way Stop Signs

Southern Californians have evolved a couple approaches, in place of legal ones, to handle when two or more vehicles arrive at a four-way stop simultaneously and need to decide who should go first in order to avoid a collision. 

The first is to slow down enough to give fellow travelers the impression that you will come to a complete stop, only to accelerate and roll through the intersection. The purpose of this maneuver is to save everyone else at the intersection the trouble of determining who has the right to proceed first. What a kind, thoughtful approach. Rather than burdening fellow travelers with another decision, you’ve taken the choice right out of their hands and applied it to your advantage. 

It’s a win-win. 

You will quickly recognize those naïve and foolish drivers who still believe in applying adult standards of behavior to the act of operating a motor vehicle. They will look shocked, even angry, as they slam on their brakes to avoid colliding with you, and might honk in protest as you pass. It is important to have an appropriate hand gesture ready for those instances. 

The most common SoCal response is to give a breezy, passive-aggressive wave. This lets the other driver know that you’re the selfless, laid back type who has already forgiven them for having the temerity to make an unpleasant noise at you. 

The other most popular reaction involves a single extended finger.   

The second approach to four-way stops is both more complicated and commonplace. It involves planning, patience, and persistence. 

The most important step is the first. You must get to your limit line (i.e., the white strip behind which you’re supposed to stop) an instant or two before another vehicle arrives. Then, sit patiently and stare at your counterpart while waiting for them to proceed. 

The other driver will likely be confused that you are not moving and will, in their way, wait for you to go, since you arrived at the intersection first. 

Don’t be fooled. This power struggle has only just begun. 

Remind yourself that your fellow traveler is clearly a tourist who hasn’t yet grasped the SoCal system. 

Wave for them to go ahead. 

And flash your high beams to hammer home the point. Make sure you do this before they do or you’ll be obligated to proceed forward. 

No matter how long you have to wait, keep your foot firmly planted on the brake. Consider putting the vehicle in park. 

Then, the moment the other car begins to pull forward, stomp on your accelerator so that your vehicle violently lurches forward about five feet. Just enough distance to get your counterpart to stop moving. 

Then slam on your brakes. 

Your fellow traveler will, in the interim, have come to an abrupt halt. Feeling shocked and betrayed, they will flash their high beams and wave energetically for you to go ahead. 

Remember that this is not about courtesy or efficiency, it is about you and your point of view. You unilaterally determined that the other vehicle should go first, and damnit, you’re the kind of person who sticks to their decision once they’ve made up their mind. 

Besides, if you were to pull forward at that moment you’d lose face. Wait until your new nemesis begins to move, and lurch forward again. This is just a test to make sure that the other driver will really follow through with their commitment. 

They will, of course, stop again. Finally, in an exaggerated manner, throw up your hands as if to say, “What are you waiting for?!?” 

#howtodrivelikealocal

#maximumchaos

#forcedcourtesy

#whatareyouwaitingfor

[dear-yandere]

Ah this is my first time requesting from you i'm so excited! Can you do a scenario of dazai with his crush who also live with him (they're best friends and extermly close) who is like the only person who understands him and expects him as a person and is always there for him but he's too hesitate to confess because she's too pure for him but then one day she gets a boyfriend aaaaaaaaa i hope this isn't too confusing! Thx in advance keep being great!

This wasn’t confusing at all! I actually wrote really long headcanons instead, hope these will do~

Osamu Dazai

★ It had been a slip-up on his part. Dazai had stopped devoting so much attention and time to keeping up with your daily happenings or routines, and the next thing he knew, you walked through those apartments doors hooked to another man’s arm. He trusted you to save yourself for him – either you didn’t know, or you didn’t particularly care. Even he couldn’t have predicted this.

★ Apologies – that’s all that came out of your lips at that point. You hadn’t expected him to be home, you said. You didn’t want to disturb him, you said. You’d leave with this mystery man, you said.

★ Heartbroken. He’s devastated and utterly heartbroken for the first time since Odasaku’s death, and you were the cause. You, the very cause of his happiness these days. Dazai can’t help but let out a soundless chuckle at the irony of it all. With love comes pain, he reminds himself. He knew opening up to someone else always ended in pain, but he let himself slip and fell in love with you all the same. You accepted him even when you hardly knew the depths of his darker side – the man he never wanted you to see. You were a rarity, a miracle personified – and even you’d been snatched from between his fingers.

★ He should’ve seen this coming, should’ve known that the longer he waited, the longer he hesitated and watched from afar with a placid smile on his face, the farther you’d wander from him. An angel like you could never be with a demon like him – yet he still hoped, still prayed to the heavens he’d lost faith in long ago.

★ Same mask, same smile – that’s all he can manage when you finally came home later that night, hair obviously patted down and fixed to hide the obvious happenings of your escapades. Dazai hardly catches your boyfriend’s name, much less hears your excuses or the second set of apologies leave your lips – he’s had enough. Everything is numb. Everything is bleak – draped in a thick layer of black and white as soon as he saw the light blush on your cheeks and the happiness in your eyes. All color has been sucked out of his life with such a simple gesture.

★ The only thing that stuck was… you’d called Dazai “just a roommate” as you walked through those doors earlier, reassuring your boyfriend that nothing was going on between you two. Nothing…? Was that all he meant to you? Did you always intend to keep him as nothing more than a roommate, even after you’d spent so much time breaking down his walls and making him fall for you?

★ The change is immediate. He’s distant, far more distant than usual, causing you to worry. Even when you approach him with that worried expression of yours, even when you sat by him like you’ve done nothing wrong, touched him gently like that’ll calm him like it always used to – it’s all wrong. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Nothing is going according to plan and no amount of comforting words and worried glances on your part will fix the tragedy he brought upon himself with his own hesitance.

★ Naturally, there’s only one solution and Dazai carries it out without batting an eye. Within the following week of Dazai being… introduced to your lover, you notice that your boyfriend  started acting weird. Nervous glances thrown at his surroundings, less touching and kissing, large amounts of time passing between texts, missed dates. You’re conflicted, wondering why both of the most important men in your life have become so cold. Was it your fault? Had you done something wrong, offended them without thinking? You have no choice but to profusely apologize, starting with your boyfriend, though the man does not pay your worries any mind – as if his mind is elsewhere, fearful, as if he saw this coming. As if he’s been warned.

★ Like a lost lamb without her shepherd, you go to Dazai for advice. You’ve seen him with countless women on his arms, albeit not for long once he scares them away with promises of double suicide, so surely he knows what to do… even if he was avoiding you as of late. It still comes as a surprise when he doesn’t spare you a second thought, acting as if you didn’t just ask for help with your new lover.

★ He’ll wait for you to plead, to get on your knees and cry and beg for him to open up to you again, to say how much you miss your nightly deep chats and his playful banter. He’ll feel bad at first, wondering if this is truly the right thing to do – Odasaku would never agree, but Dazai can’t help but regress to his old habits when you’re involved. He can’t lose you too, not when you were always within arm’s reach. 

★ But it needs to be done – this is the only way for you to prove how much you miss him, to realize how much you messed up without him so much as lifting a finger to help you realize your mistakes. That’s the only way your lesson will stick, after all. He’s had enough of keeping his dark side from you – you even went out of your way to bring it out with your own two hands, so you’ll have to pay the consequences. After all, lovers must love each other wholly.

★ When you’re at your lowest, depressed because your boyfriend seems to be leading you on and your best friend seems to hate you, Dazai will swoop back in with that charming smile and gentle eyes the hide a darkness you can never quite reach. You’re grateful, you’re happy, you’re obedient this time – anything to keep this side of him before your eyes.

★ “I’m always here for you, darling,“ he’ll say with honey-coated words. “He didn’t love you like I do”, he’ll coax as he strokes your cheek lovingly. You can see the mask back on his face, the mask you thought you’d successfully cracked, and you can’t help but fall prey to his words, feeling guilty that you’d done such a thing to your closest friend. 

★ He promises to let you atone for breaking his trust, promises to go back to his ‘old self’, all you have to do is forget about this other man…or rather, about any man besides him. And like a lamb to the slaughter – never questioning his darker motives, never questioning his twisted love – you do. Anything to go back to the old days, though he never had any intention of doing such a thing in the first place. No longer hiding, he’ll break you down to your constituents and build you anew, build you into a loyal lover than ever strays from his side this time.

[undignifiend]

Theme Ramblings - On Evil, Honesty, Violence, and Better Ways to Rule Number Two (Local Windbag Spends All Night Pontificating Again)

I really like Trollhunters and Tales of Arcadia. I feel like it addresses important themes that I also want to address in my own writing, and I feel like that is part of what makes it an awesome world and story to explore, through the original stories, and through fanfiction. I find exploring ideas within an already established world is very helpful and therapeutic. So here are my current thoughts on some of those themes, which have also been informed by various other stories. Narrative is one of the ways through which we process the world. And one of my goals is to learn how to do that with clarity, practicality, and compassion. So here’s a bit of what I think I’ve learned so far.

Warnings: Talking about violence, with pain and trauma. Stay safe. Also, spoilers for Tales of Arcadia - Wizards, and for the film You Were Never Really Here.

+++++

‘Evil’ is not a word that holds a lot of weight with me, at least not the way I feel it’s commonly used, especially in stories. Some bully without any redeeming qualities beating someone up for a power trip is a common motif, but I don’t find it a compelling or useful model of how or why some people act shitty, or how to possibly fix it nonviolently. As something of a determinist, I don’t believe our decisions just pop out of a vacuum - rather, that they are informed by our experiences, which we react to in healthy or unhealthy ways depending on what we think we understand and what we want to protect.

Or at least I think that’s a nice idea, but I don’t know how practical it actually is. For instance, maybe there are actual people who are just idiots, cowards, or cruel and nothing more, and interacting with them in a good-faith manner is an entirely hopeless waste of our limited time - especially when those mofos are actively threatening people. “They’re complex people, too!” seems kind of irrelevant when they’re calling for killing those who disagree with them, for example.

Maybe I’m having trouble with this idea because I haven’t actually recognized such mind-numbing simplistic malice in anyone directly involved in my life. I’m starting to think I might be spoiled that way.

I also want to emphasize that I’m not even remotely claiming “Everyone is right in their own ways”. Some mofos out there are objectively incorrect. I’m currently convinced that we all think we’re right, but not that we all are. Or that even when we realize we’re wronging someone, we tend to spin narratives that twist the situation to make ourselves look better, or even like we’re “The Real Victims! D:” to justify and excuse something we may otherwise deem tragic.

What horrifies me (what I’ve witnessed) is when harm is done by people who think they’re doing the right thing, or that they’re justified, or that it’s normal. People who otherwise have potential to do good, making a selfish call out of fear, anger, apathy, a misplaced sense of righteousness, or even just a desperate and ill-advised attempt to feel seen or important. The ‘evil’ that scares me most is a loss of perspective that leads to (and justifies or excuses) tragedy. That loss of perspective, I also think, is a key part of what makes propaganda possible. Calling someone ‘evil’ is often intended to deface them and simplify them into a problem or obstacle to be rid of - no longer a complex individual, but a symbol of all that is wrong with the world - a bully or ‘monster’ without redeeming qualities. (Often represented as something “subhuman” that we supposedly don’t have to feel bad about killing.) An external threat to vanquish in favor of facing whatever horrible truth we’re running from, or what conditions led to people acting in these harmful, tragic ways. (And if we can understand those conditions, perhaps we can guard against them and hopefully even save some lives and change them for the better?) I think calling someone ‘evil’ is not only impractical (and useless when it comes to diagnosing why someone is behaving a certain way, or how to effectively either help them grow up or maybe at least help prevent them from causing more harm), I think it opens the door for otherwise good people to do horrific things, all the while avoiding the root of the problem, and calling themselves justified and heroic.

That’s part of why I’m so excited about Wizards. (Finally got to ToA!) I appreciated Arthur as an example of what’s familiar to me, and the kinds of thinking I want us to learn to recognize and avoid. His grief was relatable - we’ve all lost someone, and we all have people we want to protect. But it’s monumentally important that we don’t commit Arthur’s tragedy, and take our pain out on others. And it’s also important that we don’t dismiss the pain that others are struggling to cope with, as Arthur dismissed Morgana’s and the trolls’ when he called them evil. And part of why I genuinely like Arthur as a character (not just an antagonist) was that he came around and admitted that he was wrong, and wanted to repair the damage he did.

At least until his Green Knight chapter, the motivations of which I’m still unsure of. I’m not the sharpest crayon in the shed, but it seemed like a non sequitur to me... after a certain point. If you have some insight into what’s going on with him, I’m all ears. I’m a little worried I might just be projecting my issues again.

So far, here’s what I think I can glean: I relate to the lines “How can I be at peace when the world is still broken?” and “He awoke to a legacy of a violent and awful world.” I don’t want to get into the specifics of my own experiences, but I understand the horror of “waking up” to a horrifying reality, and the motivation to try to change it somehow. The all-consuming restlessness of it, and the inability to escape or reconcile it, and the constant, never-ending tension that slowly rips you apart and isolates you from everyone and poisons your faith in humanity because you’ve looked into the abyss so long you now recognize that it’s where you’ve lived all along. Because no matter what kind of new equilibrium you scramble for, the truth remains that terrible, unnecessary harm is being done, and will continue to be done (and justified and excused and even laughed at) by otherwise good people until we all die out - and that will be our legacy even as we continue to squawk empty platitudes about how intelligent and compassionate and special we are, and nothing makes any of that okay.

In my worst, most melodramatic moments, I even understand the ‘Let it all burn, if it can’t be saved’ mentality. But I don’t have a lot of patience for defeatism, so it’s not a mentality I can take seriously for long at all, and that’s where my understanding (if I may be so pretentious?) of the Green Knight stops. Because I know there are many others who have seen what I’ve seen and feel the same way I do, and believe that a better way is possible, however distant, and who have done loads more than I have to change it. And (perhaps more importantly) I know that even those who perpetuate some of the same harms I want to stop, and even crack jokes about it, are still good people who mean well, and have their own pains to cope with.

What I want is for us (and our heroes) to recognize when we are being dishonest or unfair, and to call ourselves out, even when it’s inconvenient (or when it feels impossible, like when we’re scared, angry, or hurt). I love and admire people who can face their feelings and uncertainties honestly, and I want to be like them, because I believe that’s the most important, constructive kind of courage there is, it’s part of growing into a stronger, kinder person, and this stupid world needs a lot more of that in it.

And I think the whole topic of Evil is connected to our fascination with violence, and those who are skilled at it. (Though I’m not here to say ‘Violence Bad’. I know it’s not that simple.) In some situations, no other method has a chance of saving you or those you want to protect, and if you find yourself in such a situation, it pays to be good at violence, and to have friends who are, too. The stakes are high, so it makes for great drama, and is prevalent in stories all over the world. This also makes it a rather dramatic delivery system for Justice - or the Retributive version, anyway. Retribution is visceral, and easily understood, and speaks to our instincts of promoting and preserving status (teaching others not to screw us over or They’ll Pay), and discouraging harmful behaviors by harming the perpetrators...

I consider myself a rehabilitationist. But I understand the draw of retribution. I really do. The vast majority of my intrusive thoughts revolve around it, in particularly violent manners. It’s not fun, and it doesn’t feel powerful, and it feels weird to me to see stories that portray it as powerful, rather than as a failure or a loss. I understand the emotional desire to punish someone who has hurt an innocent. But I also understand it to a degree that transcends its original feelings of righteousness, takes itself to eyebrow-raising extremes, and makes me sick. Retribution has been glorified all throughout our history, and it scratches a primal itch, and yes, sometimes it may be the only available answer in order to prevent further harm. (Rehabilitation requires far more resources than Retribution, often making it impractical or overly risky in contexts of scarcity. I think that’s a huge factor in why ideals like Law, Justice, and Decency break down in a lot of Post-Apocalyptic story environments. It’s not just that our sense of Order has collapsed, it’s that we no longer have the infrastructure to support the ideals that Order was established to protect - though I would Not say that our current “justice” system in the US is rehabilitative or even ethical, but that’s a whole other rant.) But beyond that, I don’t believe Retribution is practical or productive. I believe it’s tragically ironic, loses sight of context and systemic issues, lends false-credence to the idea that people are the way they are due to innate, immutable qualities rather than taking their environment and experiences into account, and as a result, opens the door for good people to, again, do and justify horrific things.

It’s a hard, brutal film to watch, but I recommend You Were Never Really Here. The violence in this film feels far more real than the violence I’ve seen in any other because they don’t dress it up, or make it flashy. It’s more like something you’d see in a hidden-camera documentary. And their honest treatment of it was a visceral reminder of what violence actually is.

It puts a gut-wrenching twist on the ‘revenge fantasy’ and what it actually means to watch someone suffer and die. Even someone who had it coming. There’s a painful empathy to this film in its treatment of the characters and all the rituals (harmful or not) they use to cope with the violence they in turn have suffered. And the climax of the film centers on the awful realization that, despite his efforts, the protagonist was unable to protect someone from violence, or having to inflict violence of her own - like him, she’s marked by it now, too. She absolutely did it in self-defense, but the fact that she had to do it is still tragic. She has to live and cope with it now, as he does. And in the final scene, there’s this hellish sense of separation between them as they are, and the comparatively bright, happy lives they might have lived if they had not had to go through such horrific experiences. It’s unstated, but there’s this intense feeling that they’re haunted. Like they can be near that bright, happy life, but never cross the veil to reach it, themselves. The film ends with the girl deciding to try and find some happiness anyway. (“It’s a beautiful day.”) It’s not a happy ending, but it’s a hopeful one. It’s not a Good Triumphs Over Evil story. It’s a painful confrontation with an awful reality, and the struggle to find a way to carry on somehow.

And that resonates. Because we all know to some degree or other what it’s like to confront something awful, something we can’t just deny or forget or reconcile, and to try to find some way to cope with it. That tension can be so painful that it’s understandable (but still not excusable) why people sometimes try to pin it all on a scapegoat - so they can take something insurmountable, and turn it into something they can fight and triumph over. It’s a form of processing our grief, but it’s unfair, dishonest, and harmful, and inflicts more grief on others.

Anyway, in this fanfic I’ve been puttering around on (and trying to explore these themes through), Jim tries to solve things non-violently (as he often tried to do in the show, which I really like). Someday/night, he might not have the option, or can’t see any other way out. He knows that he (or someone else) is being seen as an outlet for someone’s frustrations - they’re using him as a symbol to project their own problems and issues on - something external they can beat up and triumph over in place of something intangible.

If he’s going to fight this outlook, I think he has to understand it - on more than a theoretical level. He has to go there himself. Maybe he punches Steve after all. (Maybe in the 2nd draft - or maybe later in the current iteration.) And he hates it. He’s changed forever, but not the way he expected to be. He feels capable, and righteous, and he doesn’t regret standing up for Eli or himself, but he doesn’t feel good. Because even if it’s easier to just dismiss Steve as a bully, and even if it occurs to Jim to do that - and even if he can feel it viscerally for a moment, Jim isn’t going to lie to himself. He can still see what Steve is, past his own anger. Steve is lashing out because he feels wronged and powerless, and he’s acting like his dad because that’s who made him feel that way, and that’s who showed him how to deal with those same feelings. Steve is a kid trying to process what he’s been through. It’s easy to forget that when Steve is trying to beat Jim down - when Draal has been trying to beat him down, too - and he’s had enough of all these angry people twisting their ideas of him in their heads and taking their anger out on him. He fought back because he couldn’t see any other option for handling it, and Steve was not willing to give him one. But from this, Jim knows how it feels to be demonized (seen as a manifestation of someone’s problems, some enemy to vanquish). And it becomes monumentally important to him never to succumb to that way of thinking, himself.

He’s not a crusader. If he has to fight and hurt or kill someone, it’s not because he thinks they’re a manifestation of evil. It’s because he does not see any recourse in stopping them from hurting or killing others. To him, violence is a tragedy meant to prevent another tragedy. And whether that justifies it or not is a question he will have to carry.

A lot of the combat we see in media, I would classify as “action”, and not violence. The vast majority of the time, it’s a choreographed dance that’s fun to watch, full of cool stunts that look like they’d be fun to do. It’s more like competitive eye-candy than anything else.

It’s fun, and I like the idea of writing that, but only in the context of sparring, or play. I don’t even want to call those “fights” or make a distinction between those and a “real fight”, because fighting is violence, and I hope to write about violence as honestly as I can. That’s part of what I like and admire about a lot of Guillermo del Toro’s other works, too. It’s not a dance, and it’s not glorious*. It’s ugly, terrifying, and it hurts to watch, and it makes us worry for his characters all the more, because it forces us to acknowledge how vulnerable they really are.

*Or, glory as it’s often treated, I think. If there really is any glory to be had in real violence, I think it’s in the willingness to act in a crisis to protect others. Terror is notoriously paralyzing, so this is where the value of training comes in - as a kind of autopilot mode to fall back on, and suppress our panic in the moment. The emotional fallout and trembling will come after the crisis has passed, but in an emergency, not knowing what to do, and feeling helpless, can be one of the most devastating weapons against us.

Sparring and training can be a fun and exhilarating test of skill, where no one intends to maim or kill you. It’s completely different from fighting. In a fight, the goal is not to learn or grow or compete, the goal is to either kill someone, or hurt them so badly that they can’t try to hurt you (or anyone else) anymore (or enough to give you time to get away). It’s very stressful and often traumatizing. One wrong move will have lasting consequences, if you’re lucky enough to survive to put up with them. Even if you win, odds are, you’re going to get hurt - maybe permanently. It’s the visceral understanding that someone has decided to disassemble you, and the only way to stop them is to disassemble them first. It’s an ugly reminder of the components of our bodies, and how fragile they really are.

“There are better ways to finish a fight than punching someone in the face.”

I agree with this - there are better methods of conflict resolution, and we must use them. And I really like how Jim carried this forward in sparing Chompsky and Draal. But I also felt like Claire fundamentally failed to understand what she had witnessed (and maybe I’m the one who misunderstood). I just didn’t appreciate what I felt was a lecture from someone who didn’t get it. Not that I’d wish for her to get it - it’s a horrible position to be in. When someone is actively trying to hurt you, it’s hard as hell to remember those better ways, and there’s no guarantee that they would work - at this point, you have to get the attacker to stop quickly. Steve resisted all other attempts to defuse the situation, and I don’t think it’s fair to blame someone for fighting back.

“A hero is not he who is fearless, but he who is not stopped by it.”

But I’m also not going to put down someone who still seeks to defuse a situation, even despite the risks. That’s a huge gamble, and it requires a massive amount of courage and good faith in the other party, and it won’t always pay off. But when it works, I believe it can open up possibilities that might not otherwise exist, because to demonstrate good faith in someone is to demonstrate that you are Not The Enemy. I think Douxie demonstrated this marvelously with the Lady of the Lake in Wizards. He gave up the most powerful weapon he had - or what was left of it - to free Nimue rather than fight her when it looked like she was about to End everybody. Once he realized the truth of her situation, he took action to alleviate it - because he wasn’t going to beat up a prisoner, and he did not consider her imprisonment acceptable in the first place.

Jim is not a pacifist, in Trollhunters canon, or in the AU idea I’ve been messing with. He will fight to stop others from killing, and he might end up having to kill in the process if all other attempts fail. But (at least in this AU thing) he will see it as a tragic failure to bridge a gap. He refuses to succumb to the way of thinking that presents his opponents as evil, even if that would make it simpler for him to process their horrific actions. They’re living, complex beings, not symbols of everything wrong with the world. And often, the reason they’re trying to hurt others to begin with is because they have succumbed to that “seeing their opponents as evil” way of thinking, themselves. As Jim sees it in Building Bridges, that Lie is everyone’s greatest enemy. It’s part of what allows otherwise good people (like Arthur and Morgana) to do, justify, and condone horrific things.

He will fight if he must, but he will do his best to reach others first, to show them the truth, and try to find a way to effectively address whatever underlying pain is causing them to lash out. If Maria Edgeworth has a point about how “The human heart opens only to the heart that opens in return,” Jim will transcend “human” by taking the risk of opening his heart first (whether or not he also becomes a half-troll in this AU idea). I currently think that’s the most profound way to prove that “evil” view wrong.

This is not to say that he will do so incautiously. Jim takes his role as a protector seriously, and he will do what he must in service to that. But he sees potential in others, and values it. He’s not a saint, but he strives to be understanding and compassionate. And that’s damn hard work. It takes effort to be good, and to see the good in others, especially when you’re hurting.

[skittleswastaken]

What Does The Things In Your Dreams Mean? A’s Part 1

By Gustavus Hindman Miller’s Dream Book. WARNING: LONG POST

Abacus: Means you are taking account of your life in an outdated way. You might need to reassess a situation in a whole new light

Abandonment: Indicates that you will have difficulty in framing your plans for future success.

If it is your house or business being abandoned, you will soon come to grief by taking too many risks

If you abandon a lover, you will unexpectedly come into a sizable inheritance

If it is religion that you abandon, you will come to grief through your attacks on prominent people.

If you dream of abandoning children, you may lose your fortune through lack to calmness and judgement.

Abandoning your business in a dream may warn of upcoming quarrels or suspicion

Abbess: To dream of an abbess who is smiling and benign tells you that you will be surrounded by true friends and pleasing prospects

Abbey: To dream of an abbey in ruins foretells that your hopes and schemes will end badly. To dream of an abbey not in ruins foretells of blessings

Abbot: To dream that you are an abbot augurs that plots are being laid for your downfall. To dream of an abbot in prayer forewarns you of flattery and deceit.

Abdomen: To see your abdomen in a dream indicated that you have great expectation, but you must curb excess and redouble your energies, for too much pleasure threatens to do you harm.

To see your abdomen shriveled means that you will be persecuted by false friends

A swollen abdomen warns of tribulations, but you will overcome them and enjoy the fruit of your labor

To see blood oozing from the abdomen foretells an accident or tragedy in your family.

Abduction: To be abducted or kidnapped in a dream is a warning that you must leave a situation in your life that no longer serves you, and you should do so regardless of your desires at this time.

To be abducted by a stranger means that a current situation will end no matter what you do. You will be spirited away from the situation,m person, event, or decision that is no longer in your best interest. This will occur at the hand of an unknown source.

To be abducted by someone you do know means that someone who is familiar to you will be instrumental in helping you get out of your situation.

Conversely if you abduct someone, you are seeking help to clear up a problem or situation in your life. If you abduct someone you do not know, you are desperately seeking anyone who can help you.

To abduct someone to you do know indicates the same need for help ut in this case you know who it is you want that help from.

Abhorrence: To dream that you abhor a person predicts that you will experience strong dislike for someone and your doubts about his/her honestly will prove correct. To dream that you are abhorred by others foretells that your best intentions may devolve into selfishness.

Ability: To dream that you have the ability to perform a task or duty (physical, mental, or otherwise) without any training or experience means that a situation is coming up in your life that you may not think you can master. Conversely, to lack the ability to do something that you know you can do very well reminds you that it’s time for you to reevaluate your skill and expand your current knowledge.

Abjectness: To dreams that you are abject suggests that you will be the recipient of bad news. To dream of other who are abject is a sign of bickering and false dealings among your friends

Abode: To dream that you can’t find your adobe means you may completely lose faith in the integrity of others ( me too)

If you have no abode in your dreams, you will be unfortunate in your affairs, and lose by speculation.

To dream of changing your abode signifies that you will undertake a sudden journey.

Abortion (tough topic): To dream that you have had an abortion signifies that you are contemplating an enterprise that, if carried out, will bring disgrace and unhappiness

Above: To dream of anything hanging above you, and about to fall, implies danger. 

If it falls on you, you may experience ruin or sudden disappointment.

If it falls near you, but misses, it is a sign that you will narrowly escape losing your money or will avoid other misfortunes.

Abroad (travels): To dreams that you are abroad, or going abroad, foretells that you will soon find it necessary to absent yourself from your native country or habitual state for a sojourn in a different place, either physical or mental

Abscess: To dreams of an abscess that seems to have reached a chronic stage indicated that you will be overwhelmed by a misfortune of your own or that your deepest sympathies will be enlisted to help ease the misfortunes of others

Absence: To grieve over the absence of anyone in your dreams indicates that repentance for some hasty action will be the means of repairing your friendships. If you rejoice over the absence of friends, you will soon be rid of an enemy.

Absentmindedness: To dream of being absentminded or forgetful means that you have or will have a clear and precise grasp of a problem.

Absinthe: To come under the influence of absinthe in dreams suggest that you are likely to waste your energies in pleasure

Abuse: To dream to abusing a person indicates that you will be unfortunate in your affairs, losing good money through overbearing behavior in business. To dream of yourself being abused suggests that you will be troubled in your daily pursuits by the ill will of others.

Abyss: Looking into an abyss in a dream means that you will be confronted by threats of seizure of property. You may experience quarrels and reproaches of a personal nature that will render you unfit to meet the problems of life.

Academy: To visit an academy in your dreams suggests that you will regret allowing opportunities to pass you by through idleness and indifference.

To dream that you are head of an academy or are a member of one suggests that your aspirations are easily defeated. You will take on knowledge, but be unable to rightly assimilate and apply it.

To dream of returning to an academy after you’ve finished there signifies that demands will be made that you’re unable to meet

Acceleration: To accelerate in a dream means you will be moving quickly into or out of a situation or event, and this quick movement will be beneficial to you.

Accent: To dream that you speak with an accent means the words that are coming out of your mouth may not ring true to your ears

Acceptance: For a businessperson to dream that a proposition has been accepted foretells that he/she will succeed in making a trade that previously looked doomed. To dreams that you’ve been accepted by your sweetheart indicates that you will happily wed object of your admiration.

Accident: To dream of an accident warns that travel of any kind may, for a short period, put your life at risk

Acclaim: To dream that you are being honored or praised for something suggests that and event or situation in your life will bring you good fortune and recognition.

Accomplice: To dream of being or needing an accomplice for any act, illegal or otherwise, means you fear you won’t be able to complete the task on your own. You need someone’s assistance to finish what is before you.

Accordion: If you dream of hearing or playing the music from an accordion, expect to engage in amusement that will free you from sadness and remorse. Cheerfulness.

Accounts: Suggests that you will find yourself in a dangerous position. If you pay these accounts, you will soon effect a compromise in some serious dispute. To dream of holding accounts against other speaks of disagreeable contingencies arising in your business, marring its smooth management.

Accusation: To accuse someone indicates that you will quarrel with those under you and your dignity will be compromised. If you are accused means you may be gossiping in a sly or malicious way

Aches: If you are aching, this means that some other person is profiting by your ideas. If the you are in physical pain outside of the dream, it has little significance.

Acid: If you drink acid, this represents much anxiety

If you are taking psychedelic acid (um... okay?), means you will soon have to account for a misdeed that you previously thought you could hide

If you see poisonous acids in your dream indicates that some treachery against you may come to light.

Acorn: A powerful portent of pleasant things ahead.

To dream of gathering acorn from the ground suggests success after weary labors

To dream of shaking them from the trees indicates that you will rapidly attain your wishes in business or love

To see green growing acorn or to see them scattered over the ground suggests that affairs will change for the better

In contrast, decayed or damaged acorns symbolize disappointments and reverses

To dream of pulling them green from tree indicated that you will injure your interests through haste and indiscretion

Acquaintance:

To meet acquaintances in your dream and to converse pleasantly with them foretells that your business will run smoothly, as will your domestic affairs

If you seem to be arguing or engaged in unpleasant talk, then humiliations and embarrassments will engulf you

If you feel ashamed of meet an acquaintance, or it you meet them at an inopportune time, this signifies that you will be guilty of illicit conduct, and other parties will let the secret out.

After dreaming of acquaintances, you may see or meet them.

Acquittal:To dream that you are acquitted of a crime indicates that you are about to come into possession of valuable property, but there is danger of a lawsuit before you do so. To see other acquitted foretells that your friend will add pleasure to your labors.

Acrobat: If you see acrobatic, this suggests that you will be prevented from carrying out bold schemes by the foolish fears of others. If you see yourself as an acrobat, your existence will be made almost unendurable by the ridicule of your enemies.

Actor: To see an actor in your dreams indicates that your present state will be on of unbroken pleasure and favor

If you dream of yourself as an actor, you will have to work for subsistence, but your labors will be pleasant

If you are in love with one, your inclination and talent will be allied with pleasure and not toil.

To dream of a dead actor warns that your good luck will be overwhelmed by misery

To see an unemployed actor foretells that your affairs will undergo a change from promise to failure

Adam and Eve: To dream of them tells you that many blessings are coming your way

Adamant Behavior: If you are being adamant, indicates that you will be troubled and defeated in some desire in your life

ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder): To dream that you have ADD, or a loved one does, predicts that you will be very focused when it comes to solving a current problem

Adder: If you see an adder strike, indicates that you will be greatly distressed over the ill luck of friends. Threatens a loss to yourself

Addiction: If you are an addict in your dream, means that no matter how hard you try to release yourself from a situation, you will always be enslaved by some quality of it. The situation is most likely negative and is extremely difficult to overcome.

Addition:

To dream of pondering and addition problem indicates that you will struggle to overcome difficult situations

To find some error in addition symbolizes overcoming enemies by discerning their intention before they have executed a plan

Adding figures with a machine implies that you have a powerful ally who will save you from much oppression.

If you fail to read the figures, however, you will lose a fortune by blind speculation

Address: If you see an address, whether on a house, letter or otherwise, tells you to bet the number in the lottery

Adieu:

To dream of bidding cheerful adieus to people indicates that you will make pleasant visits and enjoy much social festivity; but if they have a sad or doleful tone, you will endure loss and sorrow

If you bid adieu to home and country, you will travel as an exile from fortune and love

To throw kisses of adieu to loved ones or children foretells that you will soon have a journey to make, but there will be no unpleasant accidents or incidents connected with this trip.

Admiration: If you are the object of admiration , you will retain the love of former associates though your position takes you above their circle.

Admonishment: To dream that you admonish a person or a pet means that your generous principles will keep you in favor

Adoption: If you are adopted in your dream, and you’re not, look for a birth announcement or a pregnancy that will seem like a miracle

Adulation: If you seek adulation indicates that you may pompously expect an unmerited position of honor. If you offer adulation, you will deliberately part with some dear belonging in the hope of furthering material interests

Adultery: If you dream of committing adultery foretells that you will be arraigned for some illegal action or will be embarrassed socially

Advancement: If you are advancing in any endeavor suggests a rapid ascendancy in career and in affairs of the heart. If others advance foretells that friends will hold positions of favor near you

Adventurer: To dream that you are victimized by an adventurer augurs that you will be easy prey for flatterers and designing villains

Adversary: If you meet an adversary suggests that you promptly defend yourself against any attacks. Sickness also might threaten you. If you overcome an adversary, you will escape the effect of some serious disaster

Adversity: If you are in the clutches of adversity represents failures and continued bad prospects. If others are in adversity portends gloom.

Advertisement: If you are paying for advertisements indicates that you will have to resort to physical labor to promote your interests or establish a fortune. To read an advertisement means you will find stiff competition in labor.

Advice: If you receive advice, tells you that you will raise your standard of integrity and strive, by honest means, to reach competence and new moral altitude. To dream that you seek legal advice suggests transaction of dubious merit and legality

Advocating: Speaks to being faithful to your interests, trying to deal honestly with the public, and being loyal to friends

Affair: If you are having a romantic or sexual affair means you are being deceitful to yourself and those around you

Affection: If you are lavishing affection on someone is an indication that you need to show more affection in some situation or to someone in your life. If you are being lavished with affection means you are in need of more displays of affection in your life

Affirmation: To dream you are seeking affirmation for an idea you have means that it is something you will have to do alone. If you are affirming something for someone else , you will have help.

Affliction:If a Affliction lays a heavy hand upon you or others and brings your energy to a halt warns that some disaster is surely approaching you.

Affluence: Dreaming of affluence suggests fortunate ventures and pleasant associations with people of wealth

Afraid (Fear): If you are afraid to proceed with an affair or journey implies that you will find trouble in your household and enterprises will be unsuccessful. To see others afraid means that a friend will be deterred from performing a favor for you due to his/her own difficulties

Afterbirth: If you dream of this, a death is coming in your life

Afternoon: Sunny afternoon: Friendships. Cloudy/rainy afternoon: Disappointment and displeasure

Agate: To see one in your dream signifies a slight advance in business affairs

Age:Represents good health and vitality

Agony: Portends worry and pleasure intermingled. To agonize over the loss of money or property indicates that disturbing and imaginary fears over your affairs or the illness of a dear relative will persist

Air:

To dream of air denotes a withering state of things, and bodes no good to the dreamer

If you feel hot air suggests that you will be influenced to evil by oppression

To feel cold air denotes discrepancies in your business and incompatibility in domestic relations

If you feel oppressed with humid air, some curse will fall on you that will cloud your optimistic view of future.

Aircraft: If you see an aircraft  means that you are trying to get from one place to another by flying, spiritually or literally. This could also be a prophetic dream: you could take a trip in an aircraft soon

Airplane:Symbolizes flying yo loftier places

Airport: If you are in an airport, echoes the coming and goings of situations and events in your life. Can also be an anticipatory dream if you are planning to travel

Aisle: If you are traveling down an aisle tells you (how ever long the aisle is) how long it will take you to find an answer to a pending question

Alabaster: Foretells success in marriage and all legitimate affairs

Alarm bell: If you hear an alarm bell, indicates that you will have cause for anxiety

Album: To see a photo album suggests you will have success and true friends.

Alcove: If you are in an alcove or are crawling into one, you are trying to hide away and reassess a situation

Algebra: If you are trying to solve an algebra problems and you have mastered it without difficulty, whatever is troubling you will be resolved easily. If you finish it diligently, the answer will take time. If you cannot solve it, you will have to get help with a problem or abandon it entirely

Alien: Foretells a visit from someone unknown to you

Alley: Tells you that your fortunes will not be as pleasing or promising as before

Alligator: Unless you kill it, is unfavorable to all people connected with the dream. Dream of caution

Alloy: Means complications in your business

Almanac: Indicates variable fortunes and elusive pleasure. Studying an almanac’s signs foretells that you will be harassed by small matters taking up your time

Almond: Good omen that wealth is in store. However, sorrow will go with it for a short while

Alms: Bring evil if given or taken unwillingly. Otherwise a good dream

Alphabet: If you write specific letters of the alphabet or writing the entire alphabet, means you are taking your time and being diligent and meticulous in events in your life

Altar: To see a priest at the altar denotes quarrels and dissatisfaction in your business and home. To see a marriage at an altar represents sorrow to friends, or succumbing to old age. To witness a sacrificial offering on an altar denotes the coming of good fortune.

Alum: Portends frustration of well-laid plans.

Aluminum: Represents contentment with any fortune, however small

[shikamarubase]

Scarred -Chapter Two-

A/N: Happy Nara Week, everyone! I was supposed to write something else for the first day, but please accept this overdue chapter for the ANBU prompt instead. You can find the first chapter here! I hope you enjoy! <3

—————

Chapter Two:

Shikamaru was, without a shadow of a doubt, late for the meeting.

Rushed for time, he dashed across the hallway leading to the Hokage’s office after changing into his full uniform. His hands fumbled over his ANBU mask as he ran, and he couldn’t stop the string of curses from escaping his mouth when the material got tangled in his windswept hair. Letting his dark hair fall over his shoulders instead of bundling it into the usual ponytail minimized the risk of being recognized during missions; his job was dangerous enough without the additional threat of being hunted down by someone with a grudge. Nevertheless, during times like these, he regretted ever agreeing to wear his hair down for ANBU business.

By the time he unceremoniously stumbled into Kakashi’s office, Ino and Chouji were already standing raptly in attention. He mumbled a quick apology as five pairs of eyes flickered over to him.

Five? Shikamaru arched an eyebrow and surveyed the figures inside.

Ino’s and Chouji’s faces were unsurprisingly hidden beneath their respective ANBU masks, but he didn’t need to read their expressions to confirm there was something amiss by the stiffness of their shoulders. Kakashi, however, was the picture of calm. He casually leaned back into his chair and regarded him thoughtfully with one eye, as if he already knew what was going through Shikamaru’s mind. The remaining two unfamiliar guests stood by the Hokage’s work table. Shikamaru was suddenly glad for the mask he wore over his face, otherwise they would have noticed him gaping at them. He was not one to judge appearances, but they wore attires he would describe as either needlessly fancy or completely ludicrous.

The taller one of the two wore a dark hood with cat-like ears over his head, a sharp contrast to the bright face paint decorating his face. He sneered in contempt, and Shikamaru couldn’t help but imagine he was being hissed at by an angry feline. “Oi oi, you dare call yourself a member of the ANBU Corps when you can’t even be on time? Kakashi, are you sure this guy is suitable?”

Next to him, the man with a mop of red hair cupped his shoulder. “Brother, stop.”

His voice was soft, but was laced with authority and a twinge of danger. Shikamaru couldn’t contain the small shiver that ran up his spine as he eyed the smaller man. When he raised his head, Shikamaru caught a glimpse of a tattoo hidden underneath his fringe. His instincts tingled in anticipation. He wasn’t particularly scary or huge, and yet there was something almost intimidating in the way his emotionless green eyes met his.

“Excuse my brother’s rudeness. He has been a bit wired ever since he allowed our sister to slip away.“

The older man’s jaw tightened in protest. “Oh c’mon, Gaara. You know Temari would’ve snuck out no matter how many guards we assign to watch her, and—”

“And that’s precisely why we’re here,” Gaara finished for him. His eyes lingered on Shikamaru for half a second longer before fixing them back on Kakashi. “Can I assume we have all gathered to begin our discussion?”

Kakashi straightened himself before giving a quick nod. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Before Shikamaru could wrap his head around that, the Hokage was already gesturing at him and speaking to snarky cat ears. “While Kurohi may not look or act the part, I assure you he is one of our best and brightest. Your sister will be in safe hands, Prince Kankuro.”

Your Majesty? Prince? His head swirled from the prestigious titles thrown inside the room, he didn’t acknowledge when Kakashi addressed him by his given ANBU name nor did he wait for Kankuro’s response.

He was in the presence of royalty. That would explain the extravagant clothing they had on and why Ino and Chouji looked so stiff. They had to deal with the temper of an impatient royal, because he was tardy. Suddenly the entire room reeked of power, and while Shikamaru wasn’t particularly fazed by ranking, he had to acknowledge that half of the people in the room could easily sentence him to death and he would have no way of stopping them. He mentally kicked himself for not figuring it out sooner—Gaara had a cape strapped to his back, for shinobi’s sake! For the better half of his life, he’s had family, friends, and even complete strangers tell him how intelligent he was behind his unmotivated facade. If they could only see him now, they’d understand why he always disagreed.

From Kakashi’s place behind the desk, he spoke to the trio directly as Gaara and Kankuro settled comfortably into the couch. “I’m sure you have figured it out by now, but the two gentlemen before you are none other than King Gaara and Prince Kankuro from Sunagakure. Another unit was assigned to escort them on their way here, but the next step requires the kind of teamwork only the three of you can offer.”

He paused when Gaara suddenly stood up, his cape fluttering behind him. “Lord Hokage, I’d like to tell them the details myself, if you don’t mind.”

If Kakashi was in any way shocked by the offer, he kept it to himself. Instead, he extended a courteous gesture before he sat back down and folded his arms.

Gaara trained his eyes on them. “As you all know, Suna and Konoha have been...at odds for almost a decade, ever since the last great war tore apart any chance of establishing an amicable relationship between our villages. And while we persistently tried to convince him otherwise, our father had blatantly refused to ally with another, so we have been...out of touch for the past few years.”

Shikamaru’s attention shifted when Kankuro scoffed lightly into his hand, a small scowl curling at the corner of his lips. Although his first impression of the temperamental Prince was less than appealing, he could understand where he’s coming from. If they were related, Gaara’s words would elicit an eyeroll out of him as well.

‘Out of touch’ was a severe understatement. The people of the desert kingdom were already known to keep to themselves and constantly avoid direct contact with foreigners, but after the war King Rasa kept the kingdom under lockdown and made sure not a single sandrat could sneak in or out. Anyone who tried was declared a terrorist and executed on the spot. Under the orders of the former Hokage, Shikamaru had snuck in once before for an espionage mission, and nearly lost his neck trying to sneak back out. In the short time he was there, one thing was clear: fear amongst the Sunan civilians was palpable. Sunagakure was a prison cell under the guise of a kingdom; Guards from the royal palace took turns patrolling the city in the interest of enforcing public safety. But rather than give off the image of being protected, civilians behaved skittishly and stepped outside the comforts of their homes at odd hours, almost as if they were afraid to bring attention to themselves. Shikamaru guessed the guards were really stationed to make sure no rebellion sprung up to overthrow the throne. He had to hand it to the former king—he was nothing if not ruthless. Rumors have it he’d trained thousands of soldiers inside the castle grounds in preparation for the next war, and he wasn’t modest about it either. Every other week, Shikamaru would hear news of how “the power-hungry King Rasa” had razed through yet another small neighboring village with no military power to assert his dominance and expand his domain. He was a detestable man who left only destruction and tragedy in his wake. His reputation preceded him, even in death. Despite the grotesque details surrounding his demise, everyone breathed a sigh of relief when he was finally out of the throne.

Sensing the tension in the room at the mention of the former King, Gaara cleared his throat. “As I was saying, now that I have ascended the throne, my first agenda is to rebuild my people’s trust in the royal family and to keep them safe from terrorist attacks. Father’s...excursions brought him enemies who’d love nothing more than to eradicate the royal bloodline and destroy our kingdom. The Land of Wind is one of the five founding countries, with rich history stemming from the beginning of civilization. We cannot let it fall so easily. Which is why, as King, I have decided to form a pact with your Hokage and ally ourselves to your nation...in exchange for your protection.”

Shikamaru’s mind raced at his final statement. It was customary for ANBU not to ask questions during mission briefs, but before he could stop himself concern tumbled out of his open mouth. “Pardon my rudeness, but why would you need our protection?”

Next to him, he felt Chouji tense but forced himself to keep his eyes trained on Gaara through the cover of his mask. The King brought a hand to his chin and regarded him curiously. “The Land of Fire boasts the strongest soldiers of all countries. Ninjas from this land are especially talented. Although I wasn’t able to take part in the last Great War, I’ve heard stories of how Konoha soldiers fought valiantly and pushed the war back despite their shortage of manpower.”

Shikamaru nodded briefly at this. It was a story he’d heard over and over as a child. It was his father, Nara Shikaku, who devised the strategies that led to their success in the war. “But I believe you’re mistaken,” he responded, his voice uncharacteristically clear and crisp even to his own ears. “ANBU normally don't fight in wars and most of us aren’t as powerful as you think. We only possess skills suitable for stealth missions, so I don’t see what we can do for you. If you want raw power, it’d be better to seek it from our Jounin or your own soldiers.”

“Kurohi,” Kakashi started to say, but Gaara raised a palm to cut him off.

“Sunagakure has a great number of skilled soldiers, yes. If this were for any other occasion, you’d be right. But as it stands, we need your expertise.”

Shikamaru arched an eyebrow as Gaara started pacing back and forth in front of them.

“Our soldiers are naturally proud and hot-blooded; we pride ourselves for being brave and we never back out from a fight. It is in our nature to rush into battle, even if we have nothing but the clothes on our backs. Some call it foolish, but we call it courage. Unfortunately, our courage makes us more prone to life-threatening situations. While we make up for it with overwhelming strength, our strategic planning is severely lacking. I soon realized, there is no point in winning a war if the soldiers don’t make it back home. When we heard there is a genius with an I.Q. of over 200 in Konoha, working behind the scenes and ensuring successful missions with almost zero fatality rate, we knew you would be the right man for the job.”

Gaara stepped forward and grasped Shikamaru’s shoulder, fingers curling into his skin. “There’s no need to hide behind your mask now, Nara Shikamaru.”

Shikamaru’s blood ran cold. Every bone in his body screamed for him to rip his hand away. This man was dangerous, his instincts gnawed at his head. He was the opposite of Kankuro, who seemed to instill fear through the volume of his voice and biting threats. And yet, the air around the current King was more than enough to keep him frozen in place. It almost felt as if he was facing a veteran soldier, a comforting presence to have around as a comrade but not someone he’d want as an enemy.

Shikamaru lifted his hand to heed to the command, his dark hair swishing over his shoulders as he removed the mask and shook his head slightly. When he lowered his chin to meet Gaara’s eyes, there was no longer any barrier between them.

“What exactly do you need me for?” He mumbled.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Gaara’s lips before he turned his back and went back to his original position. “I need the three of you,” his eyes flitted over to Ino and Chouji, “to guard my elder sister.”

The tension in his chest dispersed. That was not the kind of S-rank mission he had in mind.

As if sensing his disappointment, Kakashi stood up and waved a folder in his hand. “To seal our alliance, Princess Temari is to be wed to our Feudal Lord, Madoka Makoto, and your team has been assigned to be her bodyguards,” he explained.

That earned a small squeak from Ino. She always went on about how handsome the young leader was. If they weren’t in a meeting Shikamaru would’ve rolled his eyes.

“Our father’s assassin is still at large, and we have reason to believe they’ll be coming after us next. We have curbed countless rebellions over the last few years, all of which demanded to bring an end to our sovereignty. While we want to use this opportunity to establish a trusting relationship, they see it as a plot to continue our bloodline and expand our rule.”

“And, is it not?” Shikamaru raised a dubious eyebrow.

Gaara chuckled, the first time his face ever broke out of its stoic mask. “It is an amusing idea,” he admitted, “but I could hardly say I am cunning enough to come up with such an elaborate plan.”

His features clouded over as he added, “Brother and I have mastered swordsmanship, but Temari has no means to protect herself from criminals. They will surely capitalize on the opportunity to attack her and reveal themselves in the process.”

In Shikamaru’s head, his words easily translated to, “I’m using my sister as bait to lure out my father’s killers.”

Finally catching on to their hidden motive, his mind whirled with questions. If the princess was meant to be a catalyst for the alliance, why was she not a part of the meeting? And he had met his fair share of government leaders, and they were definitely not this chatty, especially for someone who’d practically admitted to having a target on his back. Suspicion gnawed at him like a persistent bug. If there was one thing he was sure of: the Sabaku Royal Family weren’t hanging around for entirely diplomatic reasons. And one more thing bothered him...

“What does she look like?” He blurted out and scrambled to cover his outburst. “We can’t protect her if we don’t know her face.”

“Indeed.” As Gaara took the folder from Kakashi and handed it to him, Shikamaru’s thoughts flickered over to the blonde woman he ran into that morning. A foreigner running around the city in a fancy day gown the same day he was assigned as a bodyguard to the Sunan King’s sister? It couldn’t be a coincidence.

He slowly flipped the folder open, his eyes scanning the description of the mission until they landed on a photograph. She looked exactly as he remembered; perched daintily on a wide couch in a lilac princess gown, with four bundles of blonde hair sticking over her head. Her lips pursed together into a pout as her striking teal eyes stared into the camera.

“If you show your face around me again you’ll be sorry!” Her parting words reverberated in his head as his worst suspicions were realized.

He inwardly groaned. This job was going to be more troublesome than he bargained for.

[babyloontrash]

Loud (C.H.)

Final part of Wet!

Summary: They finally bang.

Warning: SMUT

Words: 5,4k

Important note: This is all fiction and it’s written the way it is because it is supposed to be hot. What’s not hot are STDs you can catch in real life. So you all have fun but play it safe.

“I really enjoyed the time we sent together. This is my number. Hit me up so we can have more fun. xxx.”

“I knew she would be interested in coming for more,”  Ashton chuckled after he read the note he had found aloud.

It made Calum peek out of the bathroom with a toothbrush still in his mouth.

He would be lying if he said that he wasn’t disappointed when he found out she had sneaked out in the morning without a single word. Avoiding Ashton was one thing, but it wouldn’t have hurt her if she had paid him a short visit so they could agree on the next time they would see each other. It really seemed that she would be into that.

Maybe she had changed her mind though. That happened sometimes. He would live on. But hearing this sparked his interest.

“What did she say again?” Calum asked, walking into the kitchen to join his friend to understand him clearer.

Ashton was more than happy to repeat it.

“I told you we had a great time.” He winked at him.

That made no sense. The note couldn’t be for Ashton. No fucking way.

“That little weirdo put it under a box of cereals. I wouldn’t even find it if I hadn’t knocked it over by an accident when getting my oats.” Ashton shook his head in disbelief while the slightest of smiles began to tug on Calum’s lips.

He spat the toothpaste into the sink so he could talk better.

“She probably just didn’t want to leave it lying around so it wouldn’t get lost,” Calum suggested. He shrugged his shoulders carelessly while he tried to stop the wide-ass grin from appearing on his face. His glance wandering off to the small piece of paper that was placed on the counter right next to Ashton.

He was literally just one step away from learning her number and texting her that he would love to have more fun with her.

“Good. I would hate to lose this,” Ashton admitted, smiling smugly. “Man, you should have seen her. She was basically dripping when I was taking her panties…”

Calum decided not to listen any further. He didn’t want to hear that. Staring in front of him, he was practically hypnotising the little note and thinking about how great it was going to be when he would get to undress her himself.

A swift movement from Ashton caught him out of his trance though as he grabbed it and shoved it into his pocket. 

“Shit. I am seeing Harry in ten. He’s gonna be such a pain if I show up late again.” The older of the boys stormed out of the kitchen and started picking up all his necessities, which were scattered around the living room.

“You and Liv are still fucking?”

“Here and there. Why?” Calum asked him once he had moved to the living room as well, mentally praying that his friend would leave the note at home or it would fall out onto the floor.

“Maybe you should call her. Find out if you could stop at her place tonight. So you don’t have to be hiding in your room the whole night when she comes for more. I will let you know though. Who knows, she may be busy tonight. In that case, we could have the boys come over, huh, what do you think?”

“Sounds great.”

“Okay. See ya.” With that, the front door shut behind him.

Fuck.

For the next week, Calum honestly went out of his way trying to get that number. He had even done Ashton’s laundry, hoping the dumbass left the piece of paper in his pocket.

Unfortunately, he didn’t and even if Calum lowered himself to the point to search through his phone, there were not enough opportunities to do so since it didn’t leave Ashton’s side often.

The only thing that stopped him from feeling miserable was knowing that she hadn’t met up with Ashton yet. He wouldn’t stop complaining about it. Apparently he had asked her out countless times already, but she turned down all of his suggestions, saying they don’t work with her schedule.

Which was a lie. Calum knew that. She had told him about how busy she had been, trying to juggle and do well at the multiple projects she had in progress.  An era of peace was supposed to come now since she was done with some of them. He remembered her mentioning she was rather unsure what was she going to do with all the free time she would have on her hands.

She had the time to hang out with Ashton. She just didn’t want to. And that made him feel pretty damn happy.

It was Saturday afternoon when the doorbell echoed loudly through the apartment.  For a moment, Calum didn’t even consider picking himself up from the couch. It wasn’t like he was expecting someone. The person at the door was probably just some salesperson, or the lady living across from them who was constantly angry with everyone and everything. He didn’t want to be dealing with either of them.

But the ringing simply wouldn’t stop. It almost seemed as if the person, whoever it was, was leaning against the damn thing, not allowing Calum to catch at least a second long break.

As annoyed as one could be in a situation like this, he shot up onto his feet to finally get the door. Calum’s mouth was wide open as he was gathering enough breath so he could give the person a long-ass talking to, but when he opened the door, no word actually left his chest.

She stood there in front of him, one of her hands truly leaning against the button on the wall. She pulled her hand away when she noticed him and he could swear she had looked him up and down.

Maybe he should have put on some sweatpants earlier and not walk up to her only in his underwear.

He was too stunned to say something, and she didn’t give him an exactly warm greeting either, even though that she had taken upon his silent invitation and stepped inside after he had motioned for her to get in.

“What is it about this apartment that it makes the men living in here completely incompetent?” She wanted to know.

Calum wasn’t sure what to answer to that, but that didn’t matter anyway since she just kept on talking.

“One promises me an experience I will keep coming back to in my mind for the rest of my life, when in fact he couldn’t make me come even once and I had to think about his friend to make myself get there later. And the other can’t even find the fucking note I leave for him so now I have this disappointing one-night stand blowing up my phone…”

“You got yourself off while thinking about me?” A huge, smug grin grew on his face. Calum wasn’t even ashamed to admit that he didn’t catch anything coming after that.

“That was not the point right now.” She shook her head while he kept smiling at her. It was this part which had intrigued him the most and even she noticed that. “I can get back to that if you give me a second,” she promised before she let out a sigh. “Why didn’t you call me? The note was not for him.”

“I know,”  he nodded, honestly feeling a bit small under her eyes, which were piercing through him. “He found it before me.  I tried to get it from him after but…” Calum shrugged. What more was there to say? He had failed. They both knew that. “I am sorry,” he added and flashed her a tiny apologetic smile.

“What are you doing here?”

“Ashton’s gone because of work. And he won’t be coming back until late tonight,” she told him something he already knew.

“A tragedy has happened. I can’t find the keys from my friend’s flat. And I really need them. This is the last place where I remember having them for sure. They had slipped out of my bag once when we arrived. Maybe I didn’t put them back into my pocket as carefully as I thought I did…” She scratched the back of her head.

“He told me that you are at home. So I could stop by and look for them if it’s that urgent that it won’t wait until he’s here.” She shrugged her shoulders when she was done with explaining. Calum watched her for a minute, chewing on the inside of his cheek while he stood there with his arms crossed on his chest.

“There are no keys, are there?” He questioned, even though that he was sure he already knew the answer.

“Nope,” she said, popping out the ‘p’ and shook her head a little. “Well, there are but they are safe at my place,” she added.

He was in awe and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning like the fool he was. “I really can’t believe you right now,” he chuckled.

“What other choice did I have after you screwed u-.”

“I did not. Anyone could have found that note. You left it in the kitchen!”

“Under your cereal! Where else was I supposed to leave it? Should have I sneak into your bedroom while you were sleeping like some creep?”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He guessed that he understood her point. “To be honest, I wouldn’t have minded getting woken up by that at all,” Calum admitted, shaking his head.

“You wouldn’t?”

She didn’t get an answer for that since he erased the distance between them and hurried to kiss her, his large hands cupping her face.

***

After how long she had waited for this, for his plump lips pressing against hers before they would part so their tongues could meet just like they did about a week ago, she didn’t hesitate for even a second before kissing him back eagerly.

Her hand settled on his side and dug into his hip as they were making out. From how impatient his mouth was she guessed that it wasn’t only her who couldn’t move on and forget about what had happened between them in the kitchen.

“Do you ever wear shirts?” she muttered against him between the kisses once her fingers rode up slightly and the only thing she got to touch was his warm, soft skin. It was feeling just as nice she had remembered.

He chuckled quietly before dragging his tongue over her lips. It met hers again only a second later. “I can put one on for you,” he suggested playfully after they pulled away from each other momentarily.

It wasn’t like she minded his state of undress, of course. In fact, even if he was wearing a shirt right now, it wouldn’t stay on for much longer.

She wanted to feel and touch as much of his strong body as she could. The easiest way to achieve that was taking her own top off. Her hand had just reached down to grab the hem, but Calum was faster.

They had to interrupt their kiss when he pulled it over her head, but as soon as her mouth was visible again, he sucked her lip in between his own.

The shirt got stuck on her wrists and he fumbled with it for a while before simply giving up. Instead, he went to grip the thigh of the leg which she had already wrapped around him, trying to keep him close. Taking her other leg into his hands as well, he lifted her up from her feet.

One of his palms travelled to her ass after she secured her position on him by wrapping her legs around his torso. She let her bounded arms fall down around his neck and a soft moan escaped her mouth when his lips moved lower.

Goosebumps arose on her skin when he stopped, his hot breath hitting the area between her breasts.

“What exactly were you thinking of when touching yourself back then?” Calum asked her, breathing heavily.

She had completely forgotten that she had said anything about this out loud, but he clearly hadn’t. As she looked down at him, she gulped, needing a moment calm herself down enough and stop the panting so she could answer him.

“I’ll tell you later. So you know what you should improve.” She smiled softly at him and made the corners of his mouth twitch with a smile too.

Calum nodded shortly. “Okay. I can work with that,” he agreed, causing her to gasp a little when he dipped his head down and sucked on the skin on one of her breasts.

His hands were squeezing her ass roughly. The grip seemed to even tighten when he started to walk towards his bedroom.

He kicked the door closed behind them with his foot and with her still in his arms Calum took a seat on his bed.

Once she was sitting on his lap, she released his neck and dropped her hands down in between them.  Finally, he helped her to get the shirt off, tossing it somewhere behind him and got her out of her bra before he smiled up at her.

“Where were we?”

She didn’t answer him and just rolled her hips against him, making him groan.

“I want to fuck you so bad.” 

“I can feel that,” she replied with a smirk before doing the exact move she did just a second ago.  In those boxers he wouldn’t be able to hide the hard-on he had no matter how he would try.

Calum quickly realised that her comment was mocking what he had said in the kitchen the other day and he scoffed a little at that.

Without a warning he rolled them around which resulted in her lying on her back now. He shot her a smug grin before lowering his head down and closing his mouth around her nipple. His thumb then rubbed over the glistening bud while his lips moved to the other one.

She didn’t even notice that his other hand had travelled down as she was focusing mostly on the pleasure she was receiving from his hungry mouth. It was only when she noticed that her jeans became looser at her hips and soon after that a curious hand sneaked into her panties. She couldn’t help but squirm.

His fingers rubbed circles on her clit before he let it slide lower, making her bite her lip in an attempt to stop the desperate whimper from slipping out when they teased her entrance.

Her nipples were both hard right now, and she was in fucking heaven when Calum was sucking on them or kissing the skin nearby. She loved when he lightly licked over them before taking them in between his lips and his teeth.

It was embarrassing how many times she had already imagined his fingers doing exactly this. Eventually, her mouth fell open as the excitement in undoubtedly started to build up. With every hot licking sound that had reached her ears as his tongue continued playing with her tits, the sensation in the pit of her stomach intensified. How could it not? He read her body so well. Once she had begun to buckle her hips to get more friction from his hand, he understood the cue and picked up the pace automatically.

Two of his fingers were quickly moving in and out of her and her legs shivered. When a quiet plead left her mouth, asking him to keep his fingers where they were right now because she was close, he listened. He kept pressing up at her walls, touching the sweet spot while his thumb drew slow circles on her clit.

“Have you thought about this?” He wondered against her skin and glanced up to her face.

“Maybe,” she admitted in between those shaky breaths she was letting out.

Calum smiled. 

“Have you fingered yourself, imagining it was making you cum?” 

She didn’t have it in her to form a coherent sentence as the pressure became too much and drove her over the edge.

His hand remained inside her even a short moment after the orgasm washed away. She noticed more juices spilling out when Calum pulled his fingers out and he drew another moan out of her as he was quick enough to gather them and spread them around her folds, lightly touching her clit as well in the process.

After that, he finally tugged her jeans down along with her panties.

“Come here,” she breathed out as she sat up, motioning for him to move closer. The situation wasn’t exactly fair now when she was completely naked in front of him, her skin still burning after what had just happened. She hooked her fingers around the waistband of his boxers and pushed down, making them equal.

Without giving him a second to step out of those, she reached her hand out to touch his throbbing cock, already getting down to her knees.

“Well, isn’t this nice,”  she hummed out with a tiny smile as she stroked him, using her spit so the hand would slide over it with ease. After a moment she looked up to see his face, he was staring down at her, chewing onto his bottom lip.

“You and Ashton are very good friends. Right?”

He nodded his head slowly.

“Did he tell you about me?”

Another gentle nod.

“So you know that I haven’t sucked him off…”

“I wasn’t really listening,” Calum admitted after he took in a deep breath.

“Guess he wouldn’t last if I did,” she wondered, continuing to touch him. “I didn’t really mind that to be honest.”

“But it would be a shame not get a taste of this. What do you think?”

She didn’t wait for his answer, but her actions were not forceful by any means. If he wouldn’t like this to happen, he could easily push her away. She could imagine it was the last thing on his mind at that moment though, considering the sounds he produced when she took him into her mouth.

The gasp he made was so audible even she could hear it. She thought of it as an encouragement to continue blowing him just like this. She sucked and rolled her tongue around the head for a while, her hands taking care of the shaft until the moment when she flattened her tongue and took more of him inside her mouth.

He was murmuring softly the whole time, telling her how nice this was while brushing her hair away from her face. She lured a groan out of him when she took him even deeper and she smiled to herself once she had pulled all the way back to flick her tongue over the sensitive spot under the head. 

Calum wasn’t even looking at her right now, his eyes were closed in pleasure and she noticed the red patches that appeared on his chest.

Her tongue was just sliding across the full length when he stopped her by stroking her cheek with his thumb.

“Get on the bed,” he requested. She did just like he asked of her but not before making him groan once more.

“On your knees.”

In the back of her mind, a comment saying ‘here we go again’ popped up. She was positive she would have a better time now.

She was kneeling on the bed, her back facing him. His touch on her spine was super light; she barely felt it. Calum brushed all of her hair over her should before he kissed the other one.

“He took you from the back, didn’t he?”

“He did.”

“Did you like it?”

“Not really.”

“Can I try?”

“Yes, please.” Right after she said that a strong hand pushed on her upper body so she would lean forward.

For a moment, nothing was happening, and she had started to wonder what the hell was going on. But then she sensed something warm, soft and wet move against her slits. It took her a second to realise it and once she did her whole body shivered. There was his tongue licking over her wet core and she let out a moan when a spank landed on one of her ass cheeks, stopping her from squirming.

She tried her best to stay still afterwards, her back bent only when his face pulled away and she felt him drag his cock over her folds before entering her.

She had been more than ready for this for a while now so he glided right in without a problem. His hands were making her arch her back and she let out a soft moan every time his cock pressed against her spot.

He was taking his time, not rushing anywhere, but there was a certain rhythm to his moves. A pattern she could follow as she knew when to clench her walls and release so the whole experience was as pleasurable as possible for both.

They both became desperate for more as the time passed, their moves turning way more urgent. She couldn’t get enough of him and rocked her hips so she could meet his thrusts sooner.

He didn’t stop her. At one point he even let her fuck herself on him, rewarding her with a few more spanks. As she rolled her hips, his cock still buried deep inside her she turned into a moaning mess which became only enhanced when he sneaked his hand to her front and started rubbing her clit.

 “Fuck!” She gasped after she paused for a moment in the need to catch some breath. She didn’t really get to do that since he had thrusted forward, pushing all of himself inside her again.

It made her stumble a bit but she would hate him if he stopped now. Her knees were getting weak and the force with which he was fucking her was driving her mad. She ended up falling onto the mattress.

With her ass up and her face down, an orgasm overtook her again.

“You should have heard yourself,” Calum muttered when he collapsed beside her, panting. “Just listening to you could have made me cum if I hadn’t tried so hard to stop it.”

“Why didn’t you just let go?” She asked once she rolled around to her back.

“That’s easy,” he grinned at her. “I am not done with you yet.”

She chuckled before leaning forward so she could kiss that smile off his face. “You are really trying your best so there’s nothing I can later complain about, aren’t you?” She muttered against the skin on his neck, making him groan when she sucked on one spot particularly hard.

Calum shrugged slightly, his head leaning back. “You wanted someone to help you with forgetting about Ashton and I had offered my services,” he reminded her.

She stopped kissing his neck and looked up at him. “Ashton who?”

Their laugh got interrupted as they made out again and Calum helped her to get her body on top of his.

“I want you to ride me,” he mumbled out a few moments later. She had already recovered from her orgasm well enough, considering how she began rubbing herself against him.

A smile grew on her lips when he said that. It would be her pleasure to ride that dick. Truly. She couldn’t wait to have him groan and curse under her while she would rock her hips in a way that has always driven everyone mad.

“Wait.” Calum stopped her when she started to sit up to straddle him. That left her puzzled, hadn’t he asked her to do this exact thing?

“Not like that,” he had to explain, but it was just not clicking in her mind. She stared at him with her eyes wide, her pussy only inches away from his cock.

“Here,” he specified and patted his lips with his pointer finger, the one which had been curling up inside her earlier.

She stared at him without a word for a second.

How come she hadn’t thought of that? There have been so many dirty fantasies about him since that night, but somehow sitting down on his face has never crossed her mind. 

“So?” Calum raised his brow when she took too long to reply in any way. He smiled at her when she shifted on the bed and moved near his face.

He ran his hands over her thighs gently, his thumb drawing some random pattern on it before he pulled her closer.

She took in a shaky breath as he licked a long stripe across her slits. He did that a few more times before he used his hands to pull her lips apart so he could get better access. With his tongue teasing her clit and eagerly kissing on her cunt the way he did made her heart speed up pretty quickly. It felt amazing. She had no doubts he would bring her to a climax like this. But this was not what he had said he had in mind, was it?

Calum seemed a bit surprised when she removed his hands from between her thighs and just set them on her ass instead. As soon as that was taken care of, her hips began to move slightly back and forth and he understood.

His fingers were digging into the flesh of her ass while she rode him, using his mouth to her own liking. She was leaning against the wall with one hand and tangled the fingers of the other in Calum’s hair. He licked and kissed on her hungrily and his groan vibrated against her core on multiple occasions. Hearing that he was enjoying this as well made the whole experience even hotter.

She took a glance down at him to check he was okay when her movements turned more frantic with how desperate she was for her release. Their eyes met right then and that one simple look brought her closer to the edge.

She couldn’t remember ever coming harder than at the moment when his arms wrapped around her thighs and pulled her as close to his mouth as possible, rapidly flicking his tongue as she continued to move.

“You didn’t ask me but this is what I thought about when jerking myself off,” Calum mumbled out after he was done licking up her juices and moved to place a few kisses to her thigh instead.

Her mind was still in a daze and it took a bit longer than it usually would for his words to make sense. When they did, she looked down at him with a surprised expression to which he just shrugged his shoulders.

“But let me tell you, it was much hotter in person,” he then muttered against her mouth once they were face to face again.

It seemed like he was going to go into further details but the only thing which sounded through the bedroom when he opened his mouth was a groan. 

While he was talking, she had wrapped her hand around his cock and wasted no time sliding it inside her. She had to bite her lip to stay quiet with how sensitive she was from everything.  That would not stop her though, quite the opposite, if she got to cum again soon she wouldn’t complain.

Calum wasn’t in a position where he would want to argue about any of this either she guessed. He was holding himself together for so long. If there was anyone who truly deserved to cum more than anything right now, it was him. She had promised to herself that she would make all the wait worth it for him.

Slowly, she moved up and down. Giving him a taste of what he was in for, her hands slightly pressed against his stomach for support while her nails were digging small reddish marks into his skin.

Gradually working on picking up her pace, she paid close attention to the expression on his beautiful flushed face.

She couldn’t match Calum when it came to the speed of thrusting, of course, no matter how much she would try. Especially if anyone wanted to compare it with how fast he fucked her earlier. Even at a much lower speed, they could have plenty of fun.

She always went completely down on, taking all of his length inside her before tightening her walls around him and sliding back up at a slower pace. Once she was up, she released the squeeze on him only to sink down and do the whole thing all over again.

Calum’s face looked so precious then when his mouth hanged there half open and his brows furrowed lightly every time a groan escaped his throat. He squeezed her hips tighter when she mixed up the speed and caught him off the rhythm he had already gotten used to.

When her thighs got tired after a moment she shifted her upper body down. She leaned in to kiss him, muffling the heavy sigh on his lips which was caused by her doing nothing else but simply grinding her hips with him still inside her.

Once she started to sit up again, Calum immediately moved to follow her. Instead of kissing her mouth, he buried his face in her chest, moaning against her skin when she got back to doing the thing that was driving him so wild earlier.

As he let her know that he was going to cum soon, she reached her hand behind her to touch his balls.

The whole time Calum did a good job with not thrusting up and letting her do the work but this seemed to be the last straw.

His muscles tensed in her hands when he exploded inside her.

Since she was close to yet another release herself, Calum stroked her clit while thrusting much slower, pleasing her with his cock for as long as he still could.

It wasn’t the strongest climax for her today but it still felt damn incredible.

“I am sorry,” Calum muttered out as he looked up from her breasts. “For pushing you down just like that. I didn’t even ask. I am sorry. I just… I couldn’t handle it anymore,” he explained himself even though there was no need for that. Something made him chuckle, and she sent him a curious look.

“Nothing. I just remembered something.” The answer didn’t tell her much, but she kissed him back when he leaned towards her, anyway.

“You are definitely not a liar,” he muttered with a grin before he got up.  

She couldn’t say she understood that but she let it slide. “Is it okay if I hop into the shower real quick?”

“Of course.” Calum nodded right away. “You know where the bathroom is.”

She was by the door already when he spoke out playfully again. “Is it okay if I join you?”

“Of course.” She grinned at him over her shoulder before opening the door and walking out.

In the bathroom, she turned on the water and waited for him to come. During the whole time, she had this wide idiotic smile spread on her lips, which only seemed to grow when he called out that he would be right there. She could already hear his steps in the hallway when something else made the smile freeze on her lips. 

“I know that I said I’ll come home late, so you had the whole flat for yourself, but what the fuck, mate? Even the neighbours must have heard the shit with how loud you two were.”

“Let me know when she will be leaving. I wanna see what that screamer looks like.”

[yandere-oppai]

Not a Kid (pt.1)

Fandom: Young Justice: Outsiders

Relationship: Yandere! Brion x Fem! Reader

Summary: Brion is coming to terms with being in a new place with new people. He may try and take the reader's help as something more.

Word Count:  2208

Note: Not Beta Read

God I love young Justice

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You’d been an official-unofficial member of the Justice league Covert Ops Unit (JLCOU) since it was first established. You were around the age of thirteen when you’d accidentally stumbled upon the fact that “Megan” was actually M’gann. You’d simply saw her shapeshift into her classic green skin while she was rushing out of the school. Chances are, to go on a sudden mission that needed taken care of.

That’d taken away a lot of the awkwardness and tension new teenage friendships have and brought you two closer. Since then it was normal for you to pop up at whatever base they were stationed at and just chill with whoever was there. They’d eventually trusted you enough to keep quiet about their hidden activities. And you would never do anything to endanger their trust. Especially not Superboy’s, he kinda scared you when he went into one of his rages. Over the years the team had gone through multiple changes that occurred from both gaining and losing members. You’d always make sure that they knew you were an ally and there if anyone needed a shoulder to cry on. You have this strong theory that your normalness brings some comfort to their abnormal lives.

Even with some years under your belt of dealing with Superpowered teams, you never got to bare witness to any of the members being forcefully brought into the field. It was more so that some tragedy gave them a nudge to pursue crime-fighting. So when Brion, Violet, and forager came into your life it was a no-brainer that you would coddle them. More so Brion because he wasn’t as curious about the world around his considering it wasn’t as “foreign” to him compared to others. He needed a rock to give him an anchor in his time of need. However, it wasn’t an easy time getting him to open up.

“Brion, you didn’t come to dinner so I brought you a plate,” you said stepping out onto the back porch. He was training again, trying to completely control his powers in an accelerated amount of time.

He continued to ignore you. Choosing to focus on the poor tree he’s been targeting for the past hour. You placed the wrapped food onto the outdoor table and sat on the stairs facing the backyard. He fired off a few more inaccurate shots before letting out a frustrated scream. You chuckled a bit at his childish antics.

“You know, Rome wasn’t built in a day. You only got your suit a week ago. Maybe try to pace yourself,” you called out from behind him. He whipped around to glare directly at your form.

“If this is another one of Nightwing’s “patience is virtue” speeches, my head may just split open,” he groaned.

“Maybe those speeches have some weight behind them. You ever think about that?” You asked him is a teasing tone. You earned an angry grunt as he finally chose to fully face you.

“Sure you’d say that! All you do is hang around the heroes! Never actually knowing what it’s like being in the crossfire!” He yelled at you. It didn’t really faze you though. You know that a majority of his anger was coming from teenage angst and a feeling of Monachopsis.

“I think it’s because I “hang out” with my friends, that I know more about the hero lifestyle,” You grinned back at his fuming face.

It took a while to break his hard exterior. It was only after the team’s violent encounter with Lobo that you’d manage to make some ground. He’d been knocked around pretty good compared to the others. So after making sure that Violet was completely healed up, you moved on to him. At first, he refused your help. Stating that he was completely fine. You had to threaten with exemption from the next mission if he didn’t have his wounds looked over. You were BFF’s with the original team. It was common sense that your words held some weight. He huffed and puffed but sat down as you treated his injuries. That same night as you sat applying ointment to his scratches, he couldn’t help but to slightly lean into your touch. Enjoying the small form of comfort. It put you in a good mood for the next week.

From there anytime you stopped at M’gann’s house you check in on the boy. Making sure he was okay and integrating into his new life. Slowly he began to open up to you. Familiarly referring to you and talking to you unprompted. Even coming to you when he was having trouble. When he was frustrated by the fact that no one was telling him anything about his sister or country. Or maybe when he just wanted someone to talk to. You didn’t mind him seeing you as a friend. That’s what made you so approachable. But maybe you should’ve drawn the line out somewhere.

When the team moved in with the rest of the Outsiders your visited had become less frequent with the teens. You felt bad, but with being an adult it couldn’t be helped. Going to M’gann and Superboy’s place had already been out of your way. Traveling to the city to see the kids frequently would just exhaust you further. You didn’t want them to see you with anything less than a smile. So when Doctor Helga asked for someone to stay in the building with the kids for a night, you jumped at the opportunity. After all, it’s been almost a month since you’ve seen them. It was fun spending time with the larger group and seeing Garfield again. So much so that you involuntarily took time away from Brion.

He stared, trying to hide the fact that he was pissed. They were crowding around his girlfriend, making it almost impossible for you to talk to him. Especially the green boy. Big deal, he could transform into animals. Brion was able to literally turn his surroundings into lava. If anything his power was more flashy. Plus his green skin just looked stupid.

“Brion, are you okay? You have smoke coming from….well all over your body,” Violet pointed out. Which caused the surrounding teens and adult to turn and look at him. He blushed from your eyes staring at him so suddenly. He bolted up out of his seat at the invasion.

“I...I am just not feeling well. I’m going to rest in my room for now,” he said before hurriedly making his way upstairs.

“Tell me if you’re feeling any better!” You called out after him.

“I will!” He called back before shutting his door.

He laid in bed, irritated beyond words. You don’t come to visit him for a good month (which feels like forever). And when you finally do come around, it’s not to see him specifically. When he first came to America he’d thought his life was over. What’s worse than being exiled from your own land? Then he saw you, a gorgeous mature woman who’s looks enraptured him. Your glossy (h/l)(h/c) hair that complimented your kind (e/c) eyes just hooked him. He’d thought he was smitten before, but as soon as he saw the personality that went with the looks, he’d completely fallen for you. Sure he acted cold at first, but that was his childish way of roping you into thinking of him. After months of (in his eyes was) flirting and having a slow burn love story, it seemed like you were starting to go cold. He couldn’t let that happened. Maybe it was time to finally put a label on what you two had.

He waited until night fell and his teammates were either asleep or on a mission. As soon as he heard you were coming over he made sure to avoid getting saddled with any distractions. When he peaked out of his room he peeked over the balcony to see you sitting on the couch, with some random movie on the screen. He smiled from seeing you cute formed bundled up in a blanket, before making his way down. The sound of footsteps made you glance over at him.

“I know you just woke up, but a shirt could really prevent you from getting a cold,” you said before flicking your eyes back at the screen. He jumped over the back of the couch and seated himself next to you.

“It is nice to not wear such restrictive clothing sometimes. You should try it sometimes,” he winked. Which didn’t go unnoticed by you. “So what are you watching?”

“MFKZ, I think it’s called,” a glance out of the corner of your eye saw that he was incredibly close to you. As close as he could be without touching you. You chuckled nervously. “You do know the couch is longer than two feet, right Brion?”

“I am aware, but it is very cold. And you’ve warmed up this side of the couch,” he countered.

You didn’t feel the need to ask him much else, too curious to see what exactly he was up to. You continued to sit and watch the movie, only half paying attention. Brion slowly inched his way closer as the movie drew on. Even going as far as to drape his arm over the back of the couch you were seated at. Anyone could see the silent distress that was present on your face if the lights were on. You had to cut things short when he began to run his hand up your exposed thigh.

“Wait, wait, wait!” You squeaked out, grabbing his hand. “Brion, what exactly do you think you’re doing!?”

“I was only trying to...uh...set the mood,” he said with a confused look on his face. As if he thought you were the wrong one for reacting negatively. Like you didn’t like him back.

“Look, Brion,” you stared, placing his hand back on his own lap. “You are in an incredibly vulnerable state right now. Tera’s back, you’ve just joined the Outsiders, and you’re worried about going back to your home. I can understand that you want someone to be a constant in your changing world….and I can’t be that someone.”

“Well, why not!” his tone elevated as he leaned forward. You couldn’t help but flinch back at this.

“Brion, it should be obvious. I’m an adult and you’re still a teen. Even if there was the slim chance that I romantically liked you, I’d immediately be sent to jail. That’s taking advantage of a vulnerable minor!” You shot back.

You returned the silent glare that was directed at you. You needed him to understand that this “relationship” would never become a reality. At this point, you didn’t know what was going through the temperamental boy’s mind. But Brion thought he knew what was going through yours. You brought up your respective age groups, so that must be where your worries came from. You were worried about the two of you getting caught. It wasn’t really about the fact that you only saw him as nothing more than a child who needed help. Well, none of that really mattered to him.

Your surprised yelp was muffled by him as we slammed his lips against your own. Instantly you tried to push the kid off. Using your untoned arms to try and push the considerably more muscular youth off of you. Of course, he didn’t budge. In fact, he pushed himself closer to you so that both of your chests were flush against each other. He continued to press his lips against yours, moving them in a clumsy and infrequent Rhythm. Obviously, this had been his first kiss. When your force didn’t work you turned your head to the side, escaping the forced kiss. That only stopped him for so long because he then began to pepper your neck in desperate kisses.

“Brion, stop,” You said in as stern of a voice as you could. He continued to ignore you and carry on with his actions. Only stopping when you’d managed to awkwardly proper your leg up on the couch and shove him away. You immediately stood up from the couch and made sure your back wasn’t towards him.

“Why did you do that?!” He angrily asked. He was smoldering again, not a good sign. If his meta powers activated you’d both be up shit creek.

“Brion I need you to listen to me. You’re angry and confused right now but I need you to calm down,”

“I AM CALM!” He yelled standing up, causing you to flinch. The ground beneath him to heat up more. It was your luck that his yell had disturbed his sister. Making her peak over the railing to see what was with the commotion.

“Brion, (Y/n) is there something wrong?” She called out with a worried gaze. Brion didn’t look up and continued to glare daggers at you. The silence made you even more fearful of the boy’s next actions.

“Nothing sister, I was just going back to bed,” he turned away and made his way back up the stairs. Your eyes following him the whole time.

‘I really need to speak with Dick in the morning’

[tarotwitherica]

Pick A Card Reading: A Love Reading for December

Hello beautiful people! This is my first time posting a reading here and I’m super excited. I’ve been practicing tarot for almost a year and have fallen in love! I’m always super shocked when readings fall into place and the readings are just effortless. My jaw literally drops, and I hope I can do the same for you lovelies!

This is a reading for all of you that are in a relationship, single, or have their eyes on someone. This reading could also apply to platonic relationships and friendships or family. I hope that this resonates with you! It is my first time posting a reading here, so please leave some feedback or comment on things you liked/didn’t like. So, please pick a card and let’s see what’s in store for you!

Pile 1: 

This was one of those piles that screamed at me! Pile 1, set your priorities straight! Is there someone or something that’s disappointing you? I feel like you are walking through this relationship in some sort of illusion. And you’re not seeing it clearly. With the Three of Pentacles and the Six of Pentacles, there is something big going on in this relationship. What you’re not seeing or not learning or acknowledging is this one-sided charity. A lack of commitment or teamwork. Is someone being selfish to you? I see a lack of harmony or balance in this relationship. You are giving and giving and not receiving anything back. Someone is taking advantage of you, Pile 1. You are innocent to this problem, and a little too naïve maybe. The Fool almost looks like he is walking right into this situation blinded and carefree. There is a possibility that you might not see what is blatantly being presented to you by Spirit.

Spirit asks you to pay attention to your pain and frustration with this person. What’s affecting your life negatively? What’s causing you sadness and pain? Are you being betrayed or taken advantage of? And once you identify and acknowledge its source, that will be your Tower moment. It is when the disillusionment and inner awakening will reveal itself to you. No one will walk all over you again. It might feel like it’s more damaging than healing, but trust the process. This sudden change is happening for you - not to you. You have the willpower and inner strength to push through this discomforting time. 

With your oracle cards, Spirit asks you to let go of things that no longer bring you happiness. To detox your mind, body, and spirit. What inhibits you from being your best self and showing up for yourself? Let go of those things, Pile 1! Let go of your self-limiting beliefs. Let go of what holds you back. Let go of pain and fear. You deserve so much in this world! Spirit also asks you to gain some perspective. You’ve been clouded with your emotions and thoughts about this situation or person. Detach, detach, detach! In order to gain perspective, sit in your seat of Consciousness. Be the observer of those emotions and thoughts. Let them come and go. Become nonreactive. Don’t attach to any outcome that serves your benefit. Just be mindful and aware of what comes to mind. Only then will you gain a clear vision and open mind. Lastly, release and shed yourself of devoid and passionless work or relationships. Notice where you put all your time and energy, and let go and conserve it where it doesn’t belong. Give room for new life. Make way. Because something else will take its place that truly belongs.

Your spirit animals are the Vulture, Lion, and Horse. You need to do some dirty work and clean up some messes or negativity in your life. It needs to be purified or brought back into balance. What you thought was a misfortune or tragedy is actually a blessing. Here you will gain clarity and wisdom. This is a period self-transformation. Be observant, stealth, and precise in your words and actions. Don’t waste your energy or resources on things that don’t deserve them. You are special. So step into your power, pile 1. This is not at time to run away from your problems. Confront them head on. Hone in and collect your energy. Use your physical stamina and mental focus to free yourself from this problem.

The tea leaves above are things that may be coming your way in the month of December! I hope you enjoyed your reading! Remember to take what resonates and let go of what doesn’t.

Pile 2: 

The back of the deck energy for this group was the Nine of Pentacles in reverse. I feel like there is some sort of dependency going on in this relationship. Whatever the case may be, there’s a lot of dissatisfaction with it. You currently feel like your relationship is at a stand still. You might actually be separated from your person. There’s a sense of hopelessness. I pulled some clarification cards and received the Queen of Wands and the Knight of Cups. Perhaps you or your partner has their eyes on someone else? Maybe there was emotional cheating at play? Regardless, Spirit wants to remind you that you are powerful and beautiful/handsome. You are passionate and visionary, and are the master at creation. This situation has made you feel very reliant and dependent on your person because you don’t want them to go anywhere. You’re depressed or stressed. And there’s a lack of communication going on. But whatever it is you feel you need to do, act now. There’s a swift change coming, a change in energy. Maybe even a message from a person. And you need to take that opportunity before you miss it. Before you’re stuck again. Avoid laziness and procrastination at all costs. Create your own goals. Become the independent, badass you are! Seize this opportunity, manifest your dreams. Lay the groundwork, and follow through!

Moving on to your oracle cards, Spirit asks you what you’re suppressing or denying about yourself or a situation. They will surface eventually. And they are your shadow aspects. Parts of your subconscious that are contained by shame or guilt. What are you guilty about? Or not proud of? Or what is a secret dream of yours? Maybe you need to acknowledge and accept those parts of you. Only then will it be easier to accept others. Be innocent and gentle with yourself. That shame and guilt shapes your personality and character. And those layers compound with anger and fear. It blocks your life force, your vitality. Release that shame. Reawaken the truth of who you really are. See every moment with fresh eyes and a clear mind. Get rid of those filters that inhibit light and love from coming through. In December, you also could come into contact with a sudden and quite dramatic change that you have no control over. It will shake up your foundation of security and what comforts you. Its purpose is to reassess your direction in life, or question your relationships with certain people. Make adjustments quickly and don’t cling to what was, but move forward with open arms and what is yet to come. 

Pile 2, your spirit animals are the Butterfly, the Firefly, and the Black Egg. December is a period of great transformation for you, and specifically for your relationships. Be patient and kind to yourself in this period, and use your friends as support. As with that swift change coming in, the Firefly is pure, radiant, and illuminating. You will find a moment of inspiration or awakening that quickly fades if you don’t catch it. Be ready. And speak your truth. Don’t involve yourself with confusion, excuses, or lies. What do you know to be true about yourself? The world? Don’t repeat stories to try to justify your subpar behavior, or convince yourself otherwise. When this cosmic animal shows up, it’s time to speak slowly and clearly. And not from an unsure place.

The tea leaves above are things that may be coming your way in the month of December! I hope you enjoyed your reading! Remember to take what resonates and let go of what doesn’t.

Pile 3:

You either have been struggling with anxiety or you’re currently dealing with it. Something was/is bothering you and causing you a lot of misery. But in the month of December, you’re coming out on top. You’re achieving what you were stressed out over with the help of friends and family, those that love and support you. You are a natural born leader, Pile 3. Growing and prospering is your element. You are a creative visionary. You have recently leveled up or matured in some way with your love life. Looking ahead at the Knight of Cups in reverse, you are probably finally getting over this person this month or by the new year. They were a heartbreaker, a liar, or a cheater, or all of the above! Someone from your past is finally being left there. You’re letting go of this relationship or even friends that don’t serve you anymore. And the wheel is turning! Moving forward! For some of you, you might have even broke a karmic cycle or will be shortly! Success and good fortune are on its way to you.

Spirit is asking you to ask for guidance on this journey. They’re here to support you and cheer you on to the finish line as well. They want you to know that they love you and are always trying to nudge you towards pure bliss and happiness. Release your concerns about what may happen and appreciate everything in the now that is good and right. Don’t let negative thoughts or habits stop you. When you’re in love with life, you naturally radiate and give back that love. And the love will come right back to you. Your love will be amplified during this time! Nurture yourself! Give to yourself and let others give to you. Wounds can be healed. Set aside things that restrict you from letting the love and light in. Consider how easy it is for you to give to others and that you can make it just as easy to receive from them too.

Your spirit animals are the Elephant, Lizard, and Elk. Spirit wants you to know that everything happens for a reason. And that the spirit animal Elephant put certain obstacles in your way for a reason. To change your path. To reassess your direction. You’re sensitive to the subtle, and could be highly in touch with your crown chakra. You hear what is yet to be spoken and see what is yet to manifest. Pull back to your center in order to acknowledge those things. This month will test your resiliency, support, and strength. Know what your values are, your dreams, who you are. Act on them and respect them. Be in alignment with your higher self and you will always be guided to better things. 

The tea leaves above are things that may be coming your way in the month of December! I hope you enjoyed your reading! Remember to take what resonates and let go of what doesn’t.

Pile 4:

Last but not least! Pile 4! Your back of the deck card is the Ten of Wands in reverse. There is an energy of overwhelm and struggle here. You may have a lot of things you’re taking on and you need help. Maybe a passion or job you’re trying to get going, or balancing your partner’s responsibilities with your own. Spirit is saying to gain some distance from this person in your life right now. Or maybe it’s time to travel! But separation from this person is key. You need to get out of the rapids and into the calming waters. You will gain insight and clarity on what is needed for you here. You know your options, Pile 4. But you need to decide. Sit in your seat of Consciousness and observe what comes to mind or to your heart. Listen to your self. Was there an option you never thought of before? I feel like Spirit presented two different characters that you could embrace in this situation. You can either be empathetic to this person or stubborn. Understand that maybe they didn’t know you needed help, or not let them off easy this time. Why not be both? Know your worth, be understanding, lighten the load, and achieve what you want, Pile 4. The Eight of Cups does signify that there will be a letting go of something or someone. 

Spirit wants you to know that you can talk to your ancestors! If you need help, ask them for it. They will help pave the way for you. They will give you the ingredients, but it is your job to cook the meal. When you do get some distance from your person, breathe. Be in this moment. Know that you can always come back to this place. And don’t forget that you are your own main character. This is your reality that you live in currently, so don’t forget this is your life. Don’t live someone else’s for them. Don’t try to be anyone else. Dance and celebrate the unique special person that is YOU.

Your spirit animals are the Fire Ant, Turtle, and Fish. This problem with your person keeps happening over and over again. Or you guys keep circling around the problem but never actually deal with it. It’s causing agitation and it’s getting heated. And the problem is becoming bigger than what it really is. Be grounded with yourself. Know what your values are. Know what you want from this person and from yourself. The Turtle has a strong relationship with the Earth and Water (just like the Knight of Pentacles and the Queen of Cups). Embody and embrace them both. There is a synergy that happens when both are mastered. This situation has caused you to lose yourself in the current. You feel like you have no clear goals or intentions. You might’ve lost yourself in the relationship with your person. And have become so fixated on them. Now is the time to focus on YOU. Spend time with lunar forces; let the peace and calm soothe your soul.

The tea leaves above are things that may be coming your way in the month of December! I hope you enjoyed your reading! Remember to take what resonates and let go of what doesn’t.