#again this is for my own sake in being able to express myself openly

[rustyvanburace]

Awhile ago, I found sprite rips of nearly the whole cast and NPCs in SMT IV (on Sprite Database). Since I had noticed that the sprites have different heights, and was so enamored by their attentive detail, I decided to make a little height chart for fun and for my own purposes. I even went a step further by slightly rotating bits so the sprites would be standing a little straighter and be slightly more accurate. This was what I had when I posted it (barring Flynn since he wasn't on the sprite sheet):

You'd think something like this would be pretty cut-and-dry. But at the time, I was messaged by someone who was actually bothered to see Jonathan taller than Walter. Their argument was that Jonathan's sprite has noticeably bigger proportions, as though appearing closer, and thus couldn't be an accurate representation of his height. And that since Walter is slouched, he would appear shorter than he really is (which I already did try to correct anyway).

Those are fair assessments and I noticed too that Jonathan's sprite is off compared to everyone else. I was told that I should downscale Jonathan a little to around Walter's shoulders, which I did. But to be perfectly honest -- and I mean this with respect to differing opinions and personal preference -- I wasn't too convinced by their argument and it actually bothered me being approached like that and told how the sprites should be. As though I had made the sprites. They're Atlus's own sprites.

And truthfully, that still bothers me even now. Everyone is of course entitled to their own personal preference and interpretations of characters -- I am hugely supportive of that. But it never sat well with me being told that Jonathan *has* to be shorter and that the game's own sprites were wrong, when I never even asked for their input. It actually left me feeling pressured to portray the characters a certain way in my work.

I don't believe that person actually meant any hostility and I'll ask to please don't bother anyone about this. However, as this did leave a negative impact on me, I would just like to break down my own observations and interpretations of the cast for my own sake.

First, I should add that the in-game sprites were probably not made from scratch, but are most likely downscaled versions of Masayuki Doi's artwork (with some minor edits to give them more natural poses). So of course, the first place to look would be Doi's own artwork.

A lot of this person's argument centered around the characters' proportions, particularly how even Doi's artwork has skewed proportions and are not accurate to scale. Their assertion was that Jonathan's artwork is disproportionately larger and that, when properly measured, he would actually be shorter than Walter.

So I looked into it myself. I took some incredibly high-res artwork of the Samurai -- these are likely press release assets and are the closest I can possibly get to having the unaltered originals. (You can find these on the Fandom MegaTen Wiki.) These are of equal resolution. I lined them up to compare:

(Pro tip: Paint.NET can open WebP files if you wanna compare these yourself. Or just use a site to convert them.)

I asked a couple other people to look at these with me. And we agreed: with all due respect to Doi as a professional artist, the proportions in the artwork ARE weird and (to my eyes at least) are not even equally proportionate to the characters themselves. Others have pointed out that Walter's upper half looks disproportionately smaller to his lower half, and I partly suspect that Jonathan's head is bigger than the rest of his body (even when considering the size of his hair).

Nonetheless, I tried my best to measure the artwork with the 8 heads rule. I even opted to measure a version where I tried to fix Walter's slouching. Granted, not perfectly.

I will fully admit that my attempts at measuring are far from perfect and have issues, as can be seen by the uneven feet measurements (though I partly suspect that may be on Doi). I've also tried measuring these with fixed proportions and found those were even more uneven. If anyone else could take a better shot at this, go right ahead.

But if my measurements can be trusted, then it would appear that they are approximately of equal height. Or at the very least, there wouldn't be a very big difference. Walter could be a bit taller if he straightened up, but I honestly do not think he is slouching too terribly where the difference would be huge if he wasn't.

But also to be frank, these are awful images to measure from lmao. The 8 heads rule really only works for figures that are front or side facing and standing perfectly straight, neither of which applies to these. The angles, poses, and even the uniforms make these very difficult to properly measure and gauge. I honestly don't believe that the artwork are reliable to work with. As I and others have observed, Doi's proportions vary and the artwork may not even have been drawn to scale. This is not at all indicative of Doi being a "bad artist", especially when the proportions seem more purposely stylized for visual effect. I am sure I would find the same thing in Kaneko's own work as well. But aside from this being a good exercise in general art study, my take away from all this is that the artwork just cannot be relied on for a conclusive scale.

All that said, I'm honestly not too bothered by the measurements not working out. Because, when looking at everything else, it's actually clear to me that Atlus had very deliberate intentions in the portrayals of their characters.

As I mentioned earlier, the sprites are doubtlessly shrunken down versions of Doi's artwork. And the sprites actually have some really diverse heights when you look at and compare them all, like Kaga being so small and Skins and Infernal Akira being incredibly tall. Now yes, all of these suffer from the same issues as the artwork in that their proportions vary or their poses would be hard to measure -- but that isn't even the point. The point is that the sprites' heights still vary next to each other and are not all exactly the same. That convinces me that Atlus did take careful consideration in scaling the sprites and had specific intentions for how the cast should be depicted. They're not perfect, but these are hardly what I'd call careless or sloppy.

Yes it can still be argued that Jonathan's sprite proportions are off, because they are. But that doesn't mean that there is no merit to his sprite or that it is inaccurate to what Atlus *intended* for him. The fact they made his sprite as tall as it is tells me that this is the height they intended for him, irrespective of his proportions.

What of Walter then? I do think Atlus actually did take his slouching into account when scaling his sprite (they did for Navarre's sidequest sprite). In that case then, if he straightened up, he would still just be about equal height to Jonathan.

And if so, that would actually align with the game's illustrated cutscenes:

Walter's slouching is a lot more noticeable in the second image, but as already mentioned, I still don't think he'd be much taller than Jonathan or even Flynn if he wasn't.

Since it may as well be brought up, there is also the official side-by-side promotional image as well. This one isn't as good since everyone is in a vaguely triangle-like formation, but this gets thrown around a lot too in debates, so may as well include it for what it's worth.

Now of course, it also needs to be said that Atlus aren't always consistent themselves and there's been instances of character heights varying in other media. Yet regardless, there is a recurring trend that can be observed in the sprites, the cutscenes, and the artwork if my measurements are at all accurate. As far as my own observations are concerned, Jonathan is either of equal height or just a little bit taller than Walter. And to be utterly frank -- I am much more inclined to believe the parent company's own portrayals over someone else's preference.

At the very end of all this, none of this really matters. Fans can portray a fictional character any way they want and there is nothing wrong with that. And -- unless Atlus were to release a book giving the cast's exact heights or were to make a full 3D remake that clearly shows this (both extremely unlikely) -- then who are we to really say what their heights truly are?

No, not even I. Despite my observations made here, I am not going to insist that any of this is true or canon, because I simply do not have the cast's exact canon heights in numbers lmao. This is not meant to tell people how they should portray Jonathan or Walter or anyone else, but merely my own observation. I am not going to tell people how they should portray, draw, or write them. Jonathan or Walter can be short, tall, or in the middle however anyone pleases in their own portrayal and headcanons. That is the beauty of fanworks and personal interpretation of a fictional work.

But just as much as I cannot tell someone they cannot have a short Jonathan, it is also equally not right for someone to tell me that I (or anyone else) cannot have a tall Jonathan. What bothered me about all this was not the person's own personal preference, which is theirs to own and I respect that. But the unsolicited insistence that Jonathan *must* be short, that this is canon, and positioning themselves as right while throwing shade on people who headcanon Jonathan as tall. I frankly found it all very arrogant.

Maybe I am no different by making this post though. But at least I have been able to express my *own* thoughts on the matter when I couldn't before, irrespective of what anyone thinks. Again I must stress to please don't go bother anyone about this. None of this really matters in the end and people are entitled to their own personal interpretation.

And if Atlus does come out and finally gives us canon heights for the cast, then I will happily accept that and be thrilled for new info about my favorite game. But until then or if ever, none of these characters have truly definitive heights and we simply cannot make that call. None of us are "right" or "wrong".

#again this is for my own sake in being able to express myself openly #shin megami tensei iv #smt4 #megaten #rusty's prattles

[rubyastari]

The Saddest Thing About Life I’ve Learned So Far …

Me: “My father was the only honest man I really knew.”

Them: “Why? What did he say?”

Me: “He once said: ‘Nobody can or will always stay with and for you.’ And he was right.”

#realisticallyspeaking

Many may interpret this as my expression of grief. I’m going to have to say … yes and no.

Dad passed away on January 19, 2014. His birthday is on October 23. He’d be 75 if he were still around.

Then, what about me? Well, I turned 42 in November this year. How does it feel to be at that age and still single? Not surprisingly, nothing special. I’m not dreading or relishing anything from that. You could say that I’ve probably grown numb.

Must I worry? I honestly don’t know. I haven’t really had a chance to analyze or identify my own feelings lately. I’m too busy with work and simply trying to get by. It’s getting harder to set aside time to just do something like this:

Writing … for the sake of writing …

I’m also struggling to catch up on my reading. I used to be able to read a lot and finish faster — one book after another. I also did that with countless of articles, short stories, and poems too — per week.

Nowadays, I can only finish reading one article per day … if I’m lucky. Still better than nothing, eh? I also slowly finish reading a book one page at a time. Not ideal, I know, but once again — it’s still better than nothing at all.

Isn’t it typical of us — human beings — to miss what we’ve often taken for granted before?

Have I already grown cold on the inside? Hopefully not. I’m glad I still feel because the current news in Gaza is still making me cry. I wish they’d stop with the killings and the lies. Ceasefire now!

I know Dad was never the most openly emotional man. You could never imagine him as the father who would comfort his daughters after a breakup with a boyfriend. He never did.

Instead, he’d always challenged me with the same question: “So, what’s next?”

“Huh, what do you mean?”

“Okay, so you’re in trouble / stuck in a rut / rejected. What are you going to do next?”

Those who had misunderstood him in the past (I included, shamefully) must have thought he was being dismissive. According to Ma, he didn’t know how to comfort a person, let alone a woman or his own daughters. He was never taught that and he felt he couldn’t teach himself that well. Since he was a little boy, he’d been taught that showing real feelings — including grief — was a sign of weakness. Anger was necessary, especially when he needed to defend himself.

“Your father was an unhappy man.”

When I sometimes look back, I remember him and those sad stories about him. I have to resist the urge to cry. I wish I’d had more time to get to know him more / better, to understand him better …

… and to have forgiven him sooner, for all he couldn’t do or should’ve done …

On the outside, I began to imitate some of his traits. People say I look more like him, but that’s not really accurate. My brother is a carbon copy of him, although he’s got a taller, leaner figure like our maternal grandfather. I don’t glare like he did and I’ve got Ma’s snub nose.

However, I’ve picked his old mannerisms along the way. These days, I tend to shut myself down all too easily. I rarely talk; I’ve grown quiet and I sometimes get myself lost in my own thoughts.

Some people ask me why I work in North Jakarta while still living in the South. It’s ridiculously far. I’ll need at least an hour and a half to get there and another to get back — whether it is by motorbike or by bus and train. Why not move to North Jakarta instead, closer to work? Or, why not try to find a job much closer to where I still live?

I get those questions a lot. I like living in the city center because it’s easy for me to get around. It’s easier for people to reach me as well. About the job? Well, that wasn’t my original plan. I got transferred to the North branch during the Covid-19 pandemic because the other one close by had closed down.

I like the job okay so far. I can manage, as long as I can still steal some time outside to write.

Of course, there’s also another strange reason I don’t tell them all:

I simply love being on the road these days, despite the traffic. I get to emotionally detach myself from people for a while — and just be at peace with myself. Sounds like a paradox to you? Maybe. To many people, a traffic jam is equal to chaos. To me, it’s an opportunity to blend in and sort of disappear for a while.

That way, I don’t have to interact with people that I don’t like. I don’t have to answer their super intrusive questions as if I owe them an explanation of why I’m like this. I know I sound defensive, but I sometimes feel the need to be (left) alone.

Dad was right — and he couldn’t be more right if he could see me today. I guess now I can see why he’d taught me to be more independent, down to the point that I’ve forgotten how to open up properly and let people in.

Eventually, everybody leaves. I know that because I’ve experienced a lot of departures. I’ve been the girl who had to see every guy she’d ever loved to end up with somebody else — and people blamed her for that. I’ve been that girl who’d been lied to by guys who claimed to have loved her, only to either take those words back or worse — play her around. This is why I always hate it when people accuse me of “not trying hard enough” or “not making more effort”.

What the hell do they all know? Nothing. They don’t even care that what they say can make you feel ugly as hell as if you’ll never be good enough for anyone out there. What effort — when the other side just won’t do the same for you too? That is so stupid! You’ll only look sad and desperate with that.

The bad news is, they’ll be the same people who mock you for that too. Believe me, you can never win with them.

Even your friends who once promised to always be there for you would turn away too. People change. They can either get too busy or quarrel over something so petty. They can die before you do too.

This is why I have no problem being alone. Dad had been right all along. As sad as this may sound to you, I have to be good at being on my own. This includes learning how to not take everything way too personally like some angry, self-entitled bratty girl.

This is why I have to be ready to always look after myself, just in case:

· Romance may not be meant for everyone.

· Friends abandon you, especially over petty reasons, such as you disagree with them, but it’s perfectly okay for them to dismiss your every valid argument. Double standards much?

· You’re not really a priority to anyone, even when they claim that you are theirs.

· You’re the last resort, not a destination or a companion. Hell, you’re not even their first option.

· You’re about to be forgotten …

R.

[lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall]

Tamed Seas - Poseidon x Reader

(A/N)

This is the very first post I’m making on this equally new account and also the very first time I am ever using a second person POV for the reader. Let me know your thoughts!

The following story is just for shits and giggles. I do not own any of the characters, they are the property of Shinya Umemura and Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

Warning: Swearing from my disclaimer.

Tamed Seas

Poseidon x Reader

They were never allowed to stare.

If Poseidon never looked anyone in the eye, deeming them unworthy of even a simple gaze, then anyone other than himself were equally unworthy in looking at his wife.

Just before the meeting had started about a decision to be made on humanity’s fate, Poseidon had entered in his full regalia, his wife walking alongside him. Of course, such a prestigious couple deserved such a special entrance, as Hermes, per Zeus’ request too, played his violin most ceremoniously, a proud smirk on his face upon seeing the royal feet step perfectly on the red carpet he had immediately placed upon knowing of their arrival. Zeus’ older brother held a record of never attending meetings, much more any simple get-togethers unless they were of real utmost importance such as this one.

Shiva’s eyes grew at the sight of the couple. Even though Poseidon’s wife had originally been a mortal who had ascended to godhood, you were glowing and looked as ethereal as Aphrodite. Was he seeing things? He blinked and leaned forward in his seat. The last time he saw you was at the announcement of your wedding, then after the ceremony he never caught a glimpse of you ever again and only heard stories of your new and impressive conquests. Were you always this godlike?

As if reading his thoughts, he gulped upon finding himself at the receiving end of Poseidon’s cold and stoic stare. He shrugged his shoulders. Man, he had heard rumors of his sudden protectiveness towards his wife, but he never expected him to be this overly protective. He was merely trying to figure out if his wife was always glowing like this or not. Both figuratively and literally.

Alright, maybe he was checking you out a little bit.

Unlike the god of the seas, his wife greeted Zeus, and all the familiar gods with a warm smile. It had been ages since you had seen them all together, and the sight brought a sense of nostalgia to the days where you had first earned their favor, then their respect, and then their friendship. Although your story might not be as mighty (and as physically taxing) as Hercules’ was, you considered those ‘young’ days to also be one of your best apart from getting married to the man god who you had given your heart for and will continue to love and cherish for the rest of your life. Since you became Poseidon’s wife, you had not had much time to do leisure outside the palace, and correspondingly after heralding the title of ‘queen of the seas,’ you had taken it upon yourself to help your husband in matters concerning his own kingdom and the vast seas themselves.

“Master Zeus—” Zeus threw you a knowing look. “My apologies, Zeus, it’s such a pleasure to see you again!”

“Same here, little lady! Judging by the frequent calmness of the Atlantic Ocean, I trust you and my brother are faring along quite well?” The father of all gods chuckled, then wiggled his gray eyebrows. “Why, I must say, me and most of the other Olympians have been waiting for some new gods and goddesses to rule alongside us, if you know what I mean! Ehe he~”

Characteristic of your husband, Poseidon simply scoffed before muttering how gods such as themselves need not gossip. Blue eyes never left the Hindu god however, and unbeknownst to his wife, he lingered closer to you than usual whenever the both of you were in public.

This time, Shiva had had enough. He was sure he only looked at the direction of Poseidon’s wife only once, and admired you only once as well, yet he was being skewered by the god’s gaze for longer than what he had intentionally allowed. As if he had openly claimed you as his! He was the god of destruction for heaven’s sake, and would not allow this sacrilegious act, regardless of whoever he had to settle the score with. If it was with another prominent deity, then it would be a lot more fun. Golden eyes narrowed daringly, an equally challenging aura oozing from his form and startling the nearby gods.

“Lord Shiva, are you okay—”

“(Name). How many times do I have to repeat myself? You have no need to refer to other gods with honorifics.” Your attention whipped to your husband, who to your surprise, held a familiar, challenging stance. Unbeknownst to you but the other gods especially Aphrodite, Poseidon simply matched the challenge of the Hindu god. “You are the wife of the seas. All the other gods are beneath you, as they are beneath me as well.”

Upon hearing this, Shiva gripped his concrete armrests too greatly and it crumbled to dust under his strength. Pumped at where this interaction seemed to be heading−the thought of fighting, he stood up, arms on the ready to cause destruction. Despite being in the middle of the crowd and quite far away from the center of the stadium where the couple stood, he caught glimpse of the famous trident he would never be caught dead wielding. Now this was getting interesting!

“My rules are simple: you disrespect me, you die,” He pointed at Poseidon, which the latter found disgusting enough to scrunch up his nose.

“Should we put a stop to this, Lord Zeus?” Hermes asked behind a white gloved hand. Not exceeding any expectations, Zeus laughed after a stroke of his beard and clapped. He always was one to find entertainment in alike situations, especially after the fact that this was the only time, he and all the other gods had really felt Poseidon riled up. The expression on the god of the seas’ face remained calm but it was betrayed by the suffocating, dominating presence he emitted from where he stood.

“And after you die, your wife would become firsthand witness of realizing how your title betrays your strength,” Shiva stretched, but halfway through noticed Poseidon’s quick work of his trident. He took a stance and prepared for the parrying move.

Amidst the unexpected battle that was soon to happen, to everyone’s surprise, a whistling sound echoed along the tension-filled stadium. It was a tune most foreign to the gods, all except one. From your lips, a beautiful melody poured out as a soft gentle breeze seemed to have begun to blow. It was an old tune you had learned from one of your many lifetimes in the mortal world,

And the very same one you had sung to Poseidon that had sustained him in trying moments.

Poseidon came to a full stop, his muscles unmoving as he listened and slowly, put his trident down. What was he thinking? He should not have been swayed by a foolish taunt committed by a foolish god. He was perfection incarnate. His wife would never fall for a foolish antic, so why did he? Now he was both angry and confused with himself. How could he have allowed himself for even a moment, for others to see him angry over this? What even was this?

Without the need to look at you, relishing in your fine tunes reminded him of the initial catalyst to his reaction and an answer to his question. Whenever matters concerned his wife, his emotions, which he learned were out of his control, seemed to defy all rational logic, which, even at the very beginning of your courtship, bypassed his ego. Of course, despite these strong feelings, the one thing Poseidon had control over were his actions. Therefore, he had always had a grip on how he presented himself. Although it was still a slow progress to figuring out this foreign feeling with his wife, the only other being he deemed truly worthy to allow into his life, anyone else will never have a chance of being privy to this side of him−a sentiment that thankfully, his wife shared. Though he never admitted it, he was confused and left mulling over for some time when you had also told him before that you had meant a different thing.

“…Foolish. Gods have no need for wars, we are perfect beings ourselves. You are not the reason for my presence here and are not worthy of my time and attention.” Another long silence fell, finally broken by Poseidon, ignoring the mix of surprised and fearful stares. His legs started carrying him towards the direction of one of the high stage boxes in the stadium. “Come, (Name).”

Shiva, who had his fists out and ready to fight, blinked twice in confusion before grunting, scratching the back of his ear violently in frustration. “You Greek gods have always been boring! And here I thought I’d finally be able to cause some destruction again, this time in Valhalla…”

Other than the Hindu god himself, none would ever understand if he had riled up the Greek god on purpose for the sake of his own entertainment or, perhaps, for something more personal. Zeus, meanwhile, followed the sight of his older brother walking quietly alongside his wife. Aphrodite nodded her head in his direction, affirming his suspicions. He would never fully understand the concept of love, but hey, he did get the message that all would be damned if so much as a single hair went missing on (Name)’s hair. And it seems he was not alone in this thought, as despite Shiva’s aggressive taunting, he also managed to peak into the gravity of the god of seas’ feelings towards his wife.

After Shiva had been calmed down and more gods piled in along with the Valkyries, Zeus set his meeting in motion. From the stands, Poseidon and his wife occupied the two seats that closely resembled their thrones. Eagerly sitting beside the god, (Name) grinned. Every day she had to sit close to her husband or even at times on his lap, she always felt like her body fit snugly against his.

Blue eyes stared uninterested at the spectacle.

“Dearest?” Poseidon turned his head and met your gaze. Any dark smudges had disappeared beneath his eyes, and his mouth that was carved into a seemingly permanent frown softened. His lips went from a thin line to a gentle curve.

“Thank you.”

No more words needed to be said. Poseidon knew what you were thanking him for, and he responded by closing his eyes as though he was swallowing every ounce of serenity that emitted from you. And the taste was sweet…

Above the angry retaliation of the gods regarding the verdict of Ragnarok, Poseidon enjoyed an elusive peace. Even if it was just a simple moment like this, he set his features in calm lines and his shoulders sank−a truly rare sight, a special secret between himself and his wife.

“I don’t care about this. I am eager to go home.” Poseidon whispered under his breath.

A chuckle left his wife’s lips. “We’re going home soon, don’t fret.”

#poseidon x reader #snv x reader #snv poseidon #shuumatsu no valkyrie #snv poseidon x reader #record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok x reader #record of ragnarok poseidon x reader #snv thor

[randomluck-ofthe-universe]

it's a long ask, but I hope you'll read this bec the ending of it is especially for you all. A bit personal in the middle, which if you'd like you can skip, I include that because I know nobody of my life would get it. So here goes nothing.

Why is it always one step forward, two steps back. Just as we get to have a sliver of hope, something new takes it away.

The fandom doesn't know who I am, so I'm comfortable saying this, but I can't say this to the people of my life. My life has been a mess since December last year, but being here on Tumblr used to make me feel happy and safe, nobody knew me here, nobody I know is here. Since January, I was forced to distance myself from this last safe place that I had. But by March, I decided to follow this till the end. It may sound silly, but mostly because I thought maybe if I'm unable to control the things in my life, maybe focussing on something that I have no access to (i.e. his life), might help me escape. Perhaps, there was another aspect to it. Maybe I thought it'll help me believe again that life is just and fair, I feel so naive now. It may sound like I've lost hope, but I haven't. Deep in my heart, I wish to see things clear for him, obviously for his sake and his kids' sake, but also for my own faith in the idea of EGBA. I feel I am projecting my own life and hopes onto this. It's funny because alot of the bigger messups that happened in my life, happened right around the same time in his. But today is a sad day, both for him and me.

That being said, I just want you guys to know that every morning when I wake up, and I open Tumblr, the gifs, jokes, pics and videos that you guys share give me some respite and help me smile. EVERY MORNING. So maybe some of you may be feeling lost/sad/angry, idk. But I want you all to know that little things that you guys do, as simple as making a cute edit, is helping someone far far from where you all are, and this is my way of showing gratitude. I wish I could do it without being an anon, but I'm not ready for it rn. Maybe one day I'd openly start to talk to you people without hiding behind this anon button. Until then, THANK YOU TO EACH AND EVERYONE OF YOU. I don't care about those who think I'm crazy to believe in something that they believe is a lost cause, but my hopes is as strong as their conviction is. But even when hopeful, we're allowed days we have less hope than usual, but as long as we spring back, I think it's alright.

Thanks for entertaining me.

I would like to find enough words, and definitely better than these, to express what I feel right now but believe me, I'm not be able at this moment.. your message touched me so deeply, I really feel so shaken and overwhelmed that I can’t think correctly and rationally enough.

You don’t know how much everything you wanted to share here is so close to my own experience, it made me enormously glad that you did and no matter if you did as an anon... yours is a positive message, true and so sincere, and it says so much about the beautiful person you're and the richness of your emotional life. Life often puts us so fuckin hardly to the test I know, but in the times when we think are the worst always comes something that throws us an anchor to save us and to move on, in one way or another you know, and I feel that you and I are both sharing the same anchor.

If you'll ever want to do that, feel free to contact me by private message, in any way feels you more comfortable.. it would give me an immense pleasure. I don’t care who you are, the most important things about you, and the only ones that really matter to me, I already know and that’s enough for me.

Thank you wholeheartedly for your beautiful words to all of us here in fandom, I’m sure that each of us will be deeply happy.

Love you, whoever you are. ❤️❤️❤️

#egba 💫✨

#anons #fuckin emotional

[paper-n-ashes]

sparks and embers - chapter 6

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron 

Chapter 6 - Ruin

Words: 5.9k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Mentions of war/death, kissing, a healthy dose of the ‘sharing a bed’ trope, ANGST, sexual education because who doesn’t want to read about that in fanfiction, vague description of a female medical procedure

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

~

A softened sigh left me, knowing it was probably time to let Poe say his piece. He’d been so silent until now that I felt compelled to hear what had been stirring inside his mind while I’d held him in quiet contempt.

“Alright. I’m listening.”

He flicked on one of the dimmed lamps next to the bed, a gentle glow illuminating the room, watching as he proceeded to carefully extricate himself from under the sheets, the soreness as a result of the rehab we’d performed today now evident in his concentrated expression.

I drew myself up into a seated position on the sofa as he made his way to sit on the small table at my front, not attempting to meet my eyes until he’d slowly placed himself down on the metal. His face was less than a meter from mine, pupils drifting upwards until finally, our stares locked.

“I’m sorry,” he declared, his words heavy. “I understand why you’re angry. I get it, okay? Years of battle after battle, fight after fight, it becomes difficult to consider those working under the First Order’s control as people. People with families, loved ones, even children. They appear as targets, there simply to be eliminated. And it’s you or them. Either you perish, or you put the rational thought into the back of your mind and fight back.”

Poe glanced down, fixated to the floor, his jaw tight. “I do think about it sometimes, the people I’ve... murdered. I’ve spent sleepless nights wondering if killing in the name of freedom was a good enough reason to send people to an early death. When you don’t see their faces it’s…. easier. You don’t see the bloodshed, the corpses. You just see the fiery explosion of their ships fading into the black void of space.”

I stayed rigid in the sofa, hands clutching the into cushions. It was difficult to hold down the simmer of anger that boiled in my stomach, since everything so far only reinforced what I felt like I’d determined hours ago. Even while my demeanour remained stormy, Poe continued.

“All I heard in my childhood was my father reminding me of the way he and my mother fought for what they believed to be right. Both of them lived and battled through a time like ours, under the thumb of a regime hungry for power, sparing no innocents in their pursuit of it.” He became lost in memory, the aura drifting around him stained with a subtle sorrow. “‘People were hurting. People were suffering. Your father and I couldn’t sit and do nothing.’ That’s what my mother had told me, a child of two, as her reasoning for joining the Alliance in their efforts to push back against what threatened all type of freedom in this galaxy. My parents offered to sacrifice their lives on the tiniest shred of hope that me, and every other being on every planet, would see peace in their lifetime.”

His eyes finally shifted back to focus on mine. They were determined, yet soft, the chocolate fibers of his irises melting together. “I just... wanted to be like her. Like them. I wanted to do what they did. I wanted them to be proud of me, to have faith that their legacy would live on after they were gone. To provide freedom and peace like they had. Even if that meant sacrificing my own life, even if that meant killing those who opposed it. I had to. I had to join the people that wanted the same thing as me.”

A growing ferocity began to radiate, his voice severe. “I witnessed so many of my fellow soldiers, my friends, die thoughtlessly at the hands of others. And I wanted them to feel the same pain that I felt. Is it hypocritical? Of course, I know that. Is it cruel? Yes, murder is rarely not. But it's in the name of protection, defiance against control from an overpowering force. Those who fight with the First Order, who take over planets and kill innocents for the sake of power, they know what they’re doing. They know the consequences, the outcome, the hold the galaxy will be strangled under if they succeed. And they do it anyway. Our cause isn’t more noble, it’s self-defence. We’re trying to protect the ones who aren’t able to fight back, and those who don’t deserve to be born into a world that will crush them into submission.”

Poe’s features turned darker, leaning in close. “I will never stop thinking about the lives I’ve taken. I will never not hold myself accountable for the sins I’ve committed. But I will also not sit and do nothing. I don’t need you to accept it, but at least try to understand. You and I want the same thing, in the end, to save as many people as possible in our short lifetime. I’m just doing the best I can to see that through.”

While I instinctively took a breath in preparation to speak, nothing came. He’d rendered me speechless.

I had no reply to give, no counterargument, no flaw to point out. His honesty floored me, raw emotion and long-felt guilt rising up for me to observe so openly. The pain behind his eyes seemed so much more acute than any of the other injuries he’d sustained, not trying to shield it from my view as he spoke.

I tried to find words, anything to articulate my forgiveness. Because I did understand. He’d made me see it, the same anguish over death that I felt. But he’d also made me realise what a coward I was.

Against the people who would kill him or control him, he fought back. While I hid myself away under the guise of selflessness.

I thought I was the hero of my story, giving up my home, my old life, for the benefit of the downtrodden people of this planet. In reality, I was a scared little girl, too gutless to push back against those I, and so many others in this galaxy, feared. And here Poe was, putting himself in harm’s way, every day, in the hopes that he could take away our fear forever.  

He began to rise in front of me, taking my lack of reply as an answer in itself. He seemed despondent, his face sullen as he turned to limp back to the bed.

A different kind of fury coursed through me, fury at myself for how easily I’d judged him, at how cruelly I’d treated him.

I couldn’t let the night end this way.

I picked myself up from the sofa and quickly lunged at his wrist, pulling him to face me. He was surprised, glancing with wide eyes to where my hand had caught him, then to my face. I tried desperately to convey it there, everything I wanted to say, struggling to find my voice. Poe waited for me to speak the words I clearly had sitting on the edge of my tongue, but everything I conjured didn’t seem to be enough, the jumbled thoughts swirling incoherently in my mind, never letting me quite grasp onto them long enough to form exactly what I needed to express.

Tension filled the space between us, thick and overwhelming. I soon began outlining the lines of his face, the crease currently stuck in his brow, the curve of his nose, the contour of his jaw, the arch of his lips.

My hands found themselves catching each side of his face, pulling his mouth to mine in a desperate kiss.

I’d held it back for so long, too long, now unable to deny the burning urge to melt my lips into his. He was alarmed at first, his mouth frozen from movement as he comprehended my sudden attack.

Yet quickly he was syncing his lips fluidly with mine, a hand rising to clutch the back of my neck, pulling me closer. His casted arm curled around my waist, pressing my body into his, feeling the heat radiating off his chest.

The fire in my lower abdomen roared into bright red flames again, spreading into the rest of my body like molten lava. He tasted even better than I’d imagined, our tongues beginning to find each other through parted mouths. Fingers moved into his hair, hungrily grasping at the curled strands, causing a low moan to seep from his throat. The sound made me even more forceful in my need for his lips to be connected with mine, barely having time to breathe in-between our eager kisses.

I wanted to have him, all of him, so deeply it was painful, the searing burn lighting up in my veins.

Don’t do this Alexys. It will ruin you.

My breath hitched as I reluctantly pulled away, looking up, seeing his pupils swollen. He was cautious then, moving his hand from my neck to push a strand of hair behind my ear, almost if at any moment I would flee from his embrace.

And that’s what half of me was begging to do, the other screaming at me to lock our lips together again. I felt split into two, a cracking beginning to divide me roughly in the middle.

I could see Poe searching through my gaze, trying to assess my thoughts, whether it was safe to continue. He leaned in gradually, testing my reaction. I didn’t recoil this time. I didn’t want to.

His lips melted into mine, less insistent than before, although somehow just as intimate. Inhibitions lowered, my hands slid down to his chest, noticing the hard muscles underneath my palms and feeling the fire inside me surge. I wanted to feel the bare skin underneath, to have it pressed against my own. To explore the other parts of him covered by clothes. To forget even for a short time that this was wrong, that I shouldn’t be doing this.

Poe gently withdrew, leaning his forehead into mine. “I know.”

“Know what?”

He exhaled a long breath. “I know you don’t want to do this.”

I replaced my hands to his cheeks. “You have no idea how much I want this. How much I want you.” The truth of the words made me feel both vulnerable and safe, for the first time giving in to the yearning I’d hoped to keep locked inside my chest.

He tensed, a slight tremble in the arm that curved around my body. But his face grew sombre, almost... sad. “You don’t. Not completely. I can feel you wanting to hold back,” he murmured. “I can feel your fear.”

I swallowed hard, unable to refute him. “…I’m sorry. I want to. But I just… I can’t."

We both looked down, my confirmation making the tone of our connection shift. He was silent for what felt like a long time, and we stayed motionless in our embrace, neither wanting it to end, knowing it was inevitable that we would have to part.

“Why?” he breathed. “Why are you afraid?”

I wanted to be honest with him, like he had been for me, so much the sensation felt like it was clawing out from inside me, determined to burst through the skin. But there was a barrier there, one I had forged long ago. Unyielding and impenetrable to anything or anyone.

Although, I felt another realisation simmer to the surface of my mind, one that was not nearly as exposing, but still true.

“You’re going to leave. And I have to stay here. I don’t… I don’t want that to hurt any more than it has to.”

It seemed to hit him then, like he hadn’t let the thought enter his mind before. The awareness of our predicament shone brightly in his eyes, a light switch flickering on.

His hand moved to my cheek, grazing his thumb softly against the skin, my heart throbbing inside its cage at his light touch. I watched as eyes scanned over my face, back and forth, as if memorising the features. It was then I knew he’d come to the same conclusion.

It wouldn’t be long before we would part, most likely to never see each other again. If we went any further, if we crossed that line, the pain of saying goodbye would become so much more unbearable.

Almost simultaneously, we let our hold on each other loosen, the disappointment in the air almost palatable on my tongue. The smouldering inside had burnt out, suffocated by the gloom weighing heavy in my chest. Poe took my hand in his, his eyes pleading. “Can I ask one thing of you?’

I moved my head in a slow nod.

“Sleep in this bed with me tonight. Just sleep. I promise.” It was an earnest request, his face imploring and unguarded.

In contempt of the voice in my head bellowing at me that this was a terrible idea, I agreed. “Okay.”

Together we tentatively walked to each side of the mattress, making no rush to slip under the covers and settle into the pillows. I faced away, fearing if I looked at Poe's charming face any longer, I would surrender to the pull of desire that never seemed to relent. I didn’t know how I was ever going to be able to fall asleep like this, his body radiating an energy that vibrated into the space between us, keeping me all too aware of his presence.

There was movement, a dip in the mattress, Poe’s arms curling around my torso, pulling me close. His face buried itself into my hair, the warmth of his gradual exhale sending charged shivers down my spine. Placing my arms over his, silently accepting his embrace, I felt my heart thump a calming glow through my chest, all the way to the end of my limbs.

I’d never felt so peaceful, so whole, becoming lost in the comfort of his hold, wishing I could bask in it forever.

But reality bit at me, cold and uninvited, reminding me of the goodbye I would have to give soon enough.

*

We were still entangled when consciousness came again, the dim light of early sunrise leaking through my window. Poe’s arms circled around me, my body fitting perfectly into his.

He was still asleep, his face resting just at the back of my head, slow breaths bristling into my hair. I relished the feeling of it all, trying to commit it to my memory.

I stayed there, motionless, waiting for time to run out, knowing I would be chasing the feeling of this in the months, maybe years, to come. Thinking about his future absence made me terrifyingly lonely, even with his arms wrapped around now.

Eventually the seconds ticked down to my chronometer alarm buzzing, rustling Poe awake from his slumber. I assumed he would begin to move, pulling away, this one night that bonded us together finally ending. Yet he stayed as unmoving as I had been, the only indication he had awoken the increased depth of his inhale, a small tense of his muscles. I went to move, to switch the screeching sound off, but he clutched me back into his chest, squeezing tight.

As much as my heart thumped at the pressure of his hips into mine, the noise of my alarm was grating. “Let me turn it off,” I whispered. “I’ll come right back.”

Poe loosened his grip reluctantly, allowing me to reach over to the screeching machine and mute its sound. I settled back comfortably into his arms again, as he nuzzled his face into my neck, lips faintly placing a kiss on the skin.

“Poe… please… don’t…”

His sigh whistled past my neck. “Come with me, when I leave.”

It annoyed me, his fleeting demand so easily spoken. As if I could suddenly give up all that encompassed my life before he appeared, the beings that depended on me. But his voice was so sincere, so entreating in the early morning, that the irritation dashed away from the forefront of my mind.

“You know I can’t do that.”

He acknowledged my answer in the shift of his body from around me, moving himself out of the bed we had shared for the night and leaving me alone underneath the sheets.

It burned, the unprecedented disconnection of his shape from mine, my chest forming into a black hole in the realisation I might never feel him that close again.

I wanted to let my emotion to take over, to give in to the pain that rushed to me now as the finality of our night cradled together became evident. But I refused to release it, my resolve from the night before holding strong. I knew I’d made it harder by giving in to Poe's innocent plea of sharing a slumber within his embrace, but I wasn’t going to let our farewell completely ruin me.

With a forced composure, I rose from my bedside, focusing on the appointments scheduled to fill my day. Through my haze I recalled many of them being young female patients in need of birth control. I would somehow have to shut Poe away, wanting to give these women the privacy they deserved.

*

Poe and I appeared to use the ‘freshers at the same time, the searing heat I usually liked being showered with restrained no matter how high I pushed the temperature button. Eventually I’d readied myself for the workday ahead, deciding on a pencil skirt and lightened blue blouse tucked into the waist, working my hair into a ponytail.

It was when I’d begun making breakfast, for both myself and all the company that I kept in the clinic at the moment, that Poe emerged back into my quarters in a set of dark black hospital clothes. I glanced at him only briefly as he entered, hearing him pull out a chair, not daring to look at his face yet.

“Smells good,” he uttered, breaking the silence that existed in exemption to the sautéed chicken eggs and nuna bacon sizzling in the large pan in front of me.

“It’s almost ready,” I remarked, feeling completely the disconnection between us in his tone. Half of me was glad he accepted the separation we needed to make, the other mourning the severed bond we had formed in the connection of our bodies. But I had to let it go, whatever was left of the fragile link that survived the night.

I continued preparing the hot meal, separating the foodstuff between Poe and Vixur’s crew. Once I’d gently placed a share in front of Poe at the table, a smile meeting him fleetingly, I took the rest with me, balancing the four dishes on my hands and forearms, moving cautiously through the hallway.

With impeccable timing Vixur and his students were conversing between each other, obviously having woken just before I came to greet them.

“I’ve got breakfast for you all,” I announced, setting it down at the meeting table across from my computer. It was generally used as a place I could sit with patients and their families when giving them their diagnosis or explaining treatment plans, but today it would have to work as a secondary dining table. All four men jabbered back thankyous as they moved quickly to sit and eat, their appreciation evident in the way they gulped down the meal without hesitation. I returned to my quarters to find Poe picking lazily at his food, only a few bites eaten.

“Does it taste bad?” I asked from behind him, before circling to my seat at the table.

He looked up swiftly, as if I’d startled him. He must have been deeply lost in thought not to hear me treading down the hallway.

“It’s delicious,” he urged. “I’m just… not that hungry.”

“Are you feeling alright? Are you still sore? Are you-“

“Alex, I’m fine,” he interrupted. “You can’t fix a bad mood with any of your treatments.”

I looked at him curiously. “Bad mood?”

Did I do that to him?

“Did you not sleep well?”

He didn’t answer me right away, a subtle scowl settling in his lips. “It was actually... the most restful sleep I’ve had in a long time.”

I fought the urge to beam at him, a smile waiting to form, but the gloomy expression he wore held it down. I had to agree with him - it truly was the most comfortable rest I’d experienced in recent memory. And knowing I would never feel that peaceful, dreamless slumber in his arms again made me fully understand why he was frowning.

“Thank you so much for the meal Alex. I just... don’t have an appetite right now.” Poe rose from his seat and took his plate to clean, his sombre mood spilling into my body and taking over. Wringing his hands dry, He turned back to me. “Is it still alright if I keep using your office to continue working on BB-8?”

I nodded. “It would actually be preferable. Most of my patients today are women, and I need privacy for their appointments. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come out, okay?”

Poe understood what I’d only hinted at. “Sure thing. I won’t step a foot out that room without your permission.”

A kind smile formed on his lips, but it fell as he moved from my quarters, leaving me to my breakfast, which now seemed extremely unappetizing.

*

“Well, Kaia, you’ve got a couple of options,” I started. It was my 5th appointment of the day, and I was starting to lose all hope in the young generation that followed mine. “You can get the implant, which lasts 5 years and protects you from pregnancy. But it can be a painful procedure, and unfortunately the implant itself is quite expensive. There are injections which last 3 months, but you’ll have to see me again in that time frame. I know that’s hard for you being from the South village. But there’s always prophylactics, which your partner has to use, every separate time you want to be intimate.”

Kaia was a 17-year-old human girl who had obviously not been taught any helpful sex education. Although, that wasn’t uncommon in these villages.

“But, like,” she began to question. “Can’t he just, like, not, um, finish in there?”

I drew in a deep breath. This wasn’t the first time I’d explained this today. “Technically yes, if he withdraws from you before that moment comes, it does lessen the chance of pregnancy. But Kaia, there’s a lot of fluid already leaking from him before then, fluid that can contain sperm. It doesn’t protect you. Not fully.”

Kaia was thoughtful, taking in my words. “But what if he doesn’t want to use the sheath?”

“Well... that’s his decision. But then you have to make yours. A decision that you’re more than allowed to make. One night could lead to either a future of motherhood or even diseases that could cause a great deal of damage to your body.”

“Ew,” Kaia recoiled. “I mean, I get what you’re saying. But Miss Jago, haven’t you ever been so swept up in the moment that you didn’t think about any of that?”

My jaw clenched, catching me off guard with her question. None of the other women had posed it to me. “It’s not been an issue for me,” I said flatly.

“Because of the birth control, right?” she surmised. “Which one do you use then?”

Oof, caught me out again.

“I don’t have the need for it. Kaia, this is not about me-”

“Wait, what?” she gasped. “But you’re so pretty?”

I soaked my voice in its professional tone. “This is your appointment Kaia, we’re not here to discuss my personal life.”

Kaia refused to comply. “But you’ve done it, right?”

I sighed, irritated. “Yes Kaia, but we took all the necessary precautions.”

“Well that doesn’t make it sound very fun,” Kaia huffed.

I tried desperately to hold back the aversion wanting to show on my face. It hadn’t been fun. It was clunky, awkward and somewhat painful. And I felt a spike of envy that this teenager already seemed to have had better experience with the opposite sex than I did.

“Look, your options are there. If I had to choose one, and I was with a partner I could trust had nothing that could spread to me, I’d go with the implant.”

She contemplated my advice, pulling her hands up to let her chin rest on them. “I think you’re right Miss Jago. But my parents would never help me pay for it.”

“That’s alright,” I replied, already knowing the home situation Kaia found herself in. She’d made the trek to my clinic alone, without her parent’s knowledge, just to see me for this single reason. I doubted they even knew she had a boyfriend. “How about I put the implant in today, and we figure out payment later?”

Kaia’s face lit up, eyes brimming with delight. “Really?”

I smiled at her and nodded.

“Thank you!” she squealed, face barely containing her excitement.

Really, this was for both her benefit and my own. I wasn’t about to face her parents when it would ultimately be me providing the news their daughter was pregnant. I didn’t want Kaia to go through that, a young pregnancy in a poor village after her parents would most likely cast her out.

“Remember I said this can be a painful procedure, and you’ll be sore for a day or two afterwards.”

Kaia nodded, understanding, yet unable to hold back her joy.

*

I worked my way through the process of setting her implant, my mind on autopilot while I thought more about the question Kaia innocently queried. I’d never come close to the type of desire that would have caused me to throw away all caution and rational thought. Not until-

“Hey Alex!” I heard from the other side of the curtain I’d drawn for Kaia’s discretion. “I know I said I wouldn’t come out until you said, but I’ve got something I need to show you.”

Poe’s voice was exuberant and proud, annoyingly unaware of the fact I had my hand in a very delicate place. My eyes shot to Kaia’s, her cheeks already flushing red with mortification.

“Poe!” I fumed, not hiding my anger. “I asked you to do one thing!”

I sensed his panic from behind the fabric separating us. “Kriff! Sorry!” His voice changed when he spoke next, a hurried whisper. “BB, come back here! We can’t show her yet!”

A streaming mechanical movement could be heard in my periphery, turning my head to see a shadow moving along the bottom of the curtain. I took the moment to stop what I was doing, covering Kaia with a sheet.

I was thankful I did that when the BB-8 droid slip through a break in the drape, caring little for what Poe had ordered him to do. His little head sat hovering above his balled body, for the first time actually staying in position. The photoreceptor, which looked like a singular eye, was also finally lit as he zoomed closer. While an impressed smirk started to beam as I realised Poe had managed to get his little friend working, it was rapidly overtaken by irritation at the droid’s lack of courtesy.

Poe was cursing under his breath, then apologetic. “Alex and uh, patient, I am so sorry. BB, get out of there!” BB-8 let out a few indiscernible beeps, a language I didn’t understand, although Poe seemed to. “I don’t care! They need privacy. You can see her later!” he hollered.

The droid made what sounded like a high-pitched huff as its head dropped, like it knew it had been scolded. Its head swivelled around on top it’s body and rolled away, again sliding through the break in the curtain.

“Come on, back this way.” I listened to the combination of footsteps and mechanical whirring move back into the hallway, a door eventually clicking closed. Looking apologetically back to Kaia, her face was still stunned at the intrusion.

“I am so sorry. I told him to stay put until my appointments were over. It’s okay if you want to stop for a moment,” I offered, trying to stay as calm as possible.

Kaia blinked purposefully a few times before being able to focus back to me. “No it’s okay. I’m ready.”

I admired her composure, while I remained silently boiling under the surface.

*

“What the hell Poe?” I snarled, barging into my office where Poe sat, seemingly interrupting a conversation he was having with BB-8. I’d clawed my anger into submission for the rest of Kaia’s appointment, but now it was ready to surge outward.

Poe stood, arms held up in surrender. “I know! I’m sorry! I didn’t think, and it was just really bad timing.” BB-8 beeped in what sounded like agreeance, rolling around from behind the office desk into my view.

“It was the worst timing!” I snapped. “That girl was 17, in a very vulnerable position, and you scared the living daylights out of her!”

“I know, and I can’t apologise enough Alex, really!” His face was pleading, brown eyes soft yet desperate. “I was just so excited about BB working again, and I wanted to show you.”

His sincerity disarmed me, my fury sizzling down, suffocated by his apology. I took a slow breath in, eyes closed, reigning it in further. “Please don’t disregard my instructions again,” I grumbled.

He nodded, as did BB-8, and my eyes focused on the droid. He was oddly cute in his appearance, his small beeps already annoyingly adorable. “Hello,” I greeted, all frustration now clean from my voice. “My name is Alexys.” I kneeled down to his eye level and he immediately wheeled directly in front of me, beeping somewhat of his own introduction.

“He said it’s nice to meet you,” Poe clarified, still hesitant at the easy change in my mood.

I looked up at him, curious. “You can understand those sounds he makes?”

“Most of it,” Poe answered. “It’s a form of Binary. Having him with me for so long helped me grow accustomed to the pitch and time changes in his beeps.”

My eyebrows rose, fascinated. “That’s so impressive.” BB-8 squealed in uneven time, his eye looking over to Poe, who almost looked bashful. “What? What did he say?”

He shot BB-8 an irritated look before meeting his eyes to mine. “It’s nothing important. His circuits are still a little fried.”

I wasn’t convinced, but then again I didn’t speak droid. "I'm glad you got him working,” I said earnestly, pleased there hadn’t been any type of casualty from his crash.

Poe sighed, relieved. “Me too. He’s the best co-pilot I’ve ever had.”

BB-8 whistled happily, evidently pleased with the praise, and its sweetness made me smile.

“Alexys?” Vixur suddenly called, his voice echoing down the hall. “Are you back there?”

I left Poe and BB-8 without a word, finding Vixur standing at the hallway entrance, his clothes smeared in dirt and dark grease. “Everything okay?”

Vixur nodded, evidently tired, still an accomplished grin filled his face. “We’re done actually. The comm-tower’s fixed.”

I wanted to smile back, to show my appreciation for his hard work, but it all became too hard to fake anymore.

This was it, the beginning of my goodbye to Poe. He would now be able to contact the Resistance, his friends, and he would soon be gone from my life just as suddenly as he arrived.

I forced the tears back as I hugged Vixur, doing all I could to hide my pain and show some kind of gratitude for the selfless work he had done.

Somehow Vixur sensed the turmoil simmering through me, patting my back softly. He pulled out of our embrace, speaking softly enough so Poe wouldn’t hear. “You needed this done for him, didn’t you?”

I nodded, the sadness hard to contain on my face. Vixur’s own expression was sympathetic as he squeezed my arm reassuringly. I didn’t need to explain anything, he just seemed to know.

“If it’s meant to be, you’ll find each other again.”

I drew in a long breath, furiously smothering the need to cry. I wanted to thank him more, for giving his time to me for little in return, but I couldn’t say the words out of fear the sudden sorrow would overwhelm me if I spoke out loud.

Vixur understood this, giving me a caring smile as he took his leave. “Well, we best be heading back to the village. I’ll see you sometime soon Alex. If I don’t, I wish you luck.”

And he was gone, the clinic door closing behind him, leaving me frozen in dread. A large part of me was reluctant to tell Poe the ‘good news’, but he’d waited long enough for his rescue from this planet.

I didn’t need to turn around to know he’d slinked out of the office to find me stuck where I stood, BB-8’s soft whirring following him.

“The comm-tower is ready, isn’t it?” Poe asked gently.

I forced myself to smile as I turned around, Poe’s expression not showing the relief I would have expected.

“Sure is,” I replied, the hint of quiver in my voice. “You can finally go home.”

I saw Poe’s lip tremble as he too attempted a smile, the disappointment in his eyes more indicative of his actual reaction to my answer.

Neither of us spoke for a long time, BB-8 looking back and forth quizzically, a few unsure beeps finally pierced in Poe’s direction. The sounds knocked us back into reality, as I moved to find the transmitter I’d stashed back into my tech station after determining its redundancy days ago.

The memories felt foreign, like they were from a different age. So little time had changed me so much, making me feel the most unstable and fragile I had felt in so long, on the verge of tipping into an overwhelming pain.

Poe had watched me in silence, unmoving. I eventually shifted the transmitter into his arms, an extremely aged, large box with an array of dusty buttons poking out of the rusted metal.

“It’s old, but it still works,” I insisted in a monotone, the emotion sucked from my voice. Poe only nodded, and gave me one last despairing glance as he turned away, carrying the machine into the study, BB-8 trailing behind him.

When the door closed, I couldn’t hold onto it any longer, the overpowering misery bursting free, its icy presence consuming me in a singular moment, the cold burn stinging as a few tears trickled down my cheeks.

What did I tell you?

The tears came faster at the sound of the voice, it’s condescension only making the suffering more excruciating.

No.

You’re wrong. I’m stronger than this.

I wiped away the errant tears defiantly, pulling myself together at the seams that had broken a few minutes ago, calming my breathing, trying to settle the trembling on inhale.

I’d made it through so much worse, pushed past crushing loneliness, fear and sadness, to make myself more resilient than I was behaving now. And I wasn’t going to let myself be caught in this vortex of emotion any longer.

I will not let this ruin me. 

~

Next Chapter

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#poe dameron #poe dameron x original female character #kylo ren #kylo ren x original female character #star wars #star wars fanfiction #adcu #adcu fanfiction #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x female reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x female reader #I SWEAR KYLO IS COMING OKAY THIS IS A SLOW BURN

[honeysofte-archieve]

only one.

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Rating: T

Pairing: Female Detective/Ava du Mortain

Word Count: 1,776

Genre: love confessions hell yes!

i’m here a year later offering you a continuation to my first ever wayhaven fic: say your piece (or let her free) (18+, nsfw). excuse any clumsiness, this year has been THE WORST ever when it comes to writing. i hope you enjoy!!

Vesper knows, of course, that Ava would eventually ask again.

It is pretty much a certainty only biding its time and she is mostly fine with the thought of it coming up again. If their roles were reversed, she would similarly want to know the full details of the point of the matter— knowing her own nature she would be downright obsessive at getting true answers not shrouded by the delirious (although lovely) aftermath of sex.

But Vesper still hasn’t decided what she will actually answer when her time is up and her time runs out surprisingly soon as it’s not even a full day before Ava has seemingly gathered enough courage to ask.

“Detective,” Ava starts, but coughs and corrects herself immediately after Vesper shoots a pointed, even sharp, look over her shoulder. “I mean… Vesper Louise.”

It’s very attractive, hearing her own full name from the lips of the woman she loves and for a long, while both of them only smile at each other, a gentle blossom of a relationship cradled carefully between them, safe and sound, at least for now. Vesper is not optimistic enough to think that something like this, happiness above everything else, could last forever.

[ read at ao3 ♥ ]

“Better,” Vesper answers. Then she frowns and adjusts the temperature of the stove before flipping over the crêpe cooking, or burning, on the frying pan. “Though the Louise is a bit much, don’t you think?”

“It is a beautiful name,” Ava comments somewhere behind her. “You should not be ashamed of it.”

Vesper is glad Ava can only see her back or she would certainly notice the pleased flush on her cheeks. She clicks on the range hood and watches how steam begins to diffuse around the stove, clearing the air in a quick movement. The smell of already cooked crêpes is mouthwatering.

“I’m not ashamed,” Vesper answers with a shrug. She drinks a sip of her half-draught red wine sitting on the counter next to her. “I just think it’s a mouthful to use in everyday conversation.” She pauses. “But it sounds nice… when you say it like that.”

There’s a pinch of genuine curiosity in Ava's voice. “Like what?”

As if you loved me, Vesper thinks but is not brave enough to voice it yet. “Never mind,” she says instead and almost jumps out of her skin when there’s suddenly a strong pair of arms wrapped around her waist.

“I would like to ask you something,” Ava says quietly and drops one very cautious kiss on Vesper’s shoulder like she’s not sure whether it’s welcome or not. Vesper revels in it, feeling as if the kiss left an invisible burn mark through her shirt onto her skin.

“Hold that thought,” Vesper answers, a little too hoarsely, before quickly flipping the last one of crêpes on a nearby plate, snapping the stove off and reaching her small body across the counter to be able to rinse her hands in the sink.

Then she deftly hops on the counter and pulls Ava close by folding her arms around Ava’s neck. Now that Vesper is finally allowed to be physically affectionate with her, she won’t stop. She never will. “Okay, all done,” she says cheerfully. “What’s going on inside your head, baby?”

How curious it is that having the permission to use a simple pet name for someone can feel so ground-breaking. She also finds it a little funny calling a 900-year-old powerful vampire baby but so far Ava hasn't protested the nickname beyond a small frown of confusion.

Ava hesitates, her expression a deep frown. Vesper smooths out the wrinkles on her forehead with the tip of her thumb, smiling fondly at Ava who still slightly hovers over her, even like this.

“The station's rumour about you and the… the reporter man. Your former partner, I suppose,” Ava begins, her face scrunching openly with distaste, and Vesper can feel how her own expression falls in the moment of silence that cloaks them under. “Was it true?” Ava asks quietly, watching Vesper carefully under her pale eyelashes and making the other woman feel immediately like the world’s shittiest person alive.

Vesper sighs. She doesn’t want to be dishonest, but she also wouldn’t like them to linger on the topic of Bobby again. “Would it even matter if it was?” she asks, sighs very deeply again afterwards just for the sake of reprimanding her past self.

Vesper Louise Graves, you’re a fucking idiot, will be engraved onto her tombstone, no doubt. Feels exactly on-brand for her.

“I suppose not,” Ava answers after a long stillness of consideration, but she doesn’t seem to be completely sure about her answer. “Regardless, I simply find myself... curious, nonetheless.”

Vesper cups Ava’s rigid jaw onto her palm and presses a simple kiss on her forehead.

“It’s true,” she admits and is prepared for the shudder that travels through Ava’s whole body in the wake of the confession. Her breath quivers with hidden pain she’s gotten too good at hiding, her eyes pressed closed and throat gulping for breath.

“It didn’t mean anything, Ava, not like you do,” Vesper adds carefully, keeping her voice calm and kind. She rubs the corner of Ava’s unhappy mouth with her thumb, though it does nothing to hinder Ava’s crestfallen expression and Vesper feels painfully aware that her choice of words sounds like someone trying to console their partner after an act of infidelity.

Part of Vesper feels like that is what it was. That she betrayed a trust or some unsigned vow of devotion and oh, does she loathe herself for it more than anything. Rational thinking doesn’t help with bone-deep guilt.

"It was a mistake," she continues soothingly, trying to ignore the rapid banging of her heart, open for the world to see. "One made out of sleep deprivation and--"

Vesper quiets and thinks. Ava looks at her keenly and she's not sure what she should continue with for she doesn't want to make Ava feel even worse by admitting the overhead conversation with Nate that influenced the bad choice more than any other reason Vesper could come up with.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs instead, voice regretful and sad. She kisses Ava's temple, lets her lips linger on the sensitive skin longer than necessary. "I'm an idiot," she says quietly into her ear and Ava shivers at the sensation before pulling slowly away.

"You are not an idiot," Ava says, unimpressed. "You're a very intelligent woman as I'm sure you are aware of yourself."

Oh, perfect-- a clear way out. Vesper grabs it like a lifeline.

"I mean... I sure do love science," Vesper answers with a grin and it's not even remotely a lie. "It's kind of my speciality. Like, did you know that orcas are actually just big dolphins, but sort of whales at the same time? Pretty cool, right?"

"Vesper Louise," Ava sighs. She doesn't appear frustrated, but her voice just has a tiny flavour of kind impatience, like she knows how difficult this is for both of them. "You are deflecting."

"No kidding."

There's a long, pointed silence before Ava's brow arches, a tiny, almost mocking gesture. Vesper almost flips her the finger but she's beyond acting like a child. At least, she usually is.

"I just…" Vesper buries her face in the crook of Ava's neck, a place of warmth and comfort, almost. It helps if she doesn't need to meet her eyes. She swallows. Overthinks.

These words end up being true: "You scare the shit out of me."

Ava stills. "Scare you?"

Why does she feel like crying right now? "You scare me because…" Take a deep breath, Vesper Louise, and just say it.

"Because I love you so much I can barely stand it," Vesper finally says, the words that haunt her every waking moment she spends with Ava. It feels good and absolutely horrifying to finally say them aloud.

"I just… I don't know how to describe it any better. I feel like I'm dying, all the time, just thinking about it. About my feelings for you."

Ava is mute while she speaks and Vesper appreciates right now more than ever. Usually, the vampire's silence is frustrating, just another wall between them, but now it feels more like a comfort, a blessing in disguise.

And Vesper is crying now, failing not to, her eyes wet and lips trembling.

"I don't know what else to say," she murmurs. Ava's hand lingers on the back of Vesper's neck which reassures her that Ava is not going to escape, not this time.

"I was scared and hurt so I kissed him and it meant absolutely nothing to me. I don't have room in my heart for anyone else but you. That's all there is to it. I'm sorry."

Ava is still and quiet but remains relaxed in their embrace, her hand moving soothingly across the other one's back. After a while, she presses the smallest of kisses against the curve of Vesper's quivering jaw.

"Thank you," Ava whispers breathlessly and Vesper isn't quite sure what the words even mean. She's about to open her mouth to ask why when Ava tucks a few messy hair strands behind Vesper's ears and lifts her down-turned chin up with a fingertip.

"Please, do not cry, do not be scared," she whispers tenderly and with devotion. "I am the idiot one."

There's choked laughter and a sneeze against a shirt collar. "No shit," Vesper snorts, her eyes shining with happiness. She has never been in love like this, has never felt so protected and safe as she does every moment with Ava.

"You're my idiot, though."

The words are still questioning and hesitant but Ava smiles, smiles like a thousand suns for how bright it is.

"That I am," she says, her green eyes filled with warmth and gentleness, and dare one say it, love. "As you are mine. Always."

This is when Vesper grabs Ava's ears onto her hands and pulls her closer to kiss her with all that she is, with lips and tongue and teeth, because she can't not to. She's allowed to love and be loved, and be imperfect with faults and downsides, and still be someone of value.

Someone of importance to Ava du Mortain.

"Fuck Bobby Marks," Ava mutters darkly onto Vesper's lips when they part for breath, making Vesper's eyes widen in surprise at the crass language before she burst into giggles against Ava's mouth and kisses the frown between Ava's eyebrows away again.

That's right, she thinks.

Fuck Bobby Marks.

#twc #the wayhaven chronicles #ava du mortain #a du mortain x detective #ava x detective #a du mortain #twc detective #twc fanfic #*my writing #character: vesper

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.16}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.3k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

"May I ask you something you might find rather odd?"

"Don't you always?" Robin chuckled softly. "You can ask and say anything at all, you know that. Odd isn't a thing between us anymore."

"Why does your hair smell so insufferably much like pineapple? You don't even like pineapples."

For a broken second, Robin was so surprised by the indeed quite unexpected question that she didn't react at all, then however she had to snort and finally just started laughing. Gods, what a question… whether he had meant to take the edge off the situation or not, his inquiry certainly had done just that. In a sudden mutual agreement that it might be better to let go of each other –better for whom, one might ask– they both removed their tight hold from the other and Robin took a tiny step backwards. Not enough to call it an appropriate distance, really, but enough to look at each other's faces again.

"I, uh…" She started, once she had more or less stopped laughing, and finally folded the letter and the permit back into the envelope. "I haven't really had the money to buy new shampoo after I'd run out, so I first borrowed from Jorien for half a month, and now ever since the beginning of October I've been borrowing from Cas, who unfortunately loves pineapples. That's why I smell like one currently."

"I see… Curious how I haven't noticed it before."

"Well, we don't really… get that close to each other so often." Robin shrugged, trying to suppress the sad subtones that wanted to sneak into the statement, and instead acted over it by removing her wand from the tousled damp mess on her head, now that she remembered that her hair still would have to dry at some point indeed. "And I literally just took a shower before coming here, so that should make the smell even more prominent as well. Sorry…"

"Not for that. But say, do I even want to know why you decided to take a shower in the middle of the night? On your birthday?"

"Cas smeared some sticky goo onto my face and it was really itchy and got stuck in my hair…" She rolled her eyes at the memory, and upon his questioning and slightly horrified expression, she snorted but went to explain. "It was just some kind of face mask, nothing gross! Well, actually, it was pretty vile, all pink and smelling horribly sweet, even worse than the pineapple!"

"Sounds like your evening with your roommates went exactly as expected."

"Well, part of it at least. At first we had tea and cake, which I very much enjoyed actually. They told me about the incident in class as well, even though they thought it was hilarious rather than annoying. But then I became subject to their idea of a girls' night, and that meant sticky goo and painted nails." Robin held up her hands with a humoured sigh to demonstrate Jorien's work. It actually looked quite good, or at least it had, before Robin had already chipped one nail in the shower. She couldn't bring herself to care enough to fix it though. "Then they tried to get me to talk about boys, which was the point where I shut down."

"I can imagine."

"They got me a lovely gift though; a framed photograph of the entire group. The girls and I, and Simon, Gideon and Michael. All sitting together in the great hall." Robin smiled, still very much happy about the picture. "There's so few photos of me and the people I care about. Honestly, I only have the conference photos from last year and the year prior, and either has about fifty strangers in it, but only one has you."

"Good. I doubt that I'm particularly photogenic."

"Neither am I, but I like looking at the picture nonetheless."

"You always were the most photogenic person in the entire newspaper. All three years of conferences."

"Thanks." Robin laughed, once again quite glad that it was too dark for him to really see her blushing. "Remind me to show you the horrible pictures of me as a toddler some time… You'll change your mind about me being photogenic then."

"Don't bet on it."

"Alright, I won't." Her smile turned warmer, less amused and more heartfelt. "But I'm still happy to have one more picture of the people I care about now."

"You should be. It is a nice gift indeed. An actual gift."

"Oh will you stop it now!" Robin rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, then couldn't help smiling up at him nonetheless. "I think your gift IS an actual gift! A perfect one! But if you just keep refusing to believe it, might I make a suggestion?"

"Don't you always?" He raised an eyebrow as he quoted her own words back to her with a not-smirk. "Go ahead."

"Go to Hogsmeade with me on Saturday. I know you're not overly fond of being there while the students are roaming around, but you could consider it a gift to me, if the incredible one you've already given me just won't count for you. Which I still don't understand, by the way." She suggested, then went on with a small smirk. "I'm sure I can sell some stuff to the guy in that ingredients shop you sent me to forever ago."

"I will have to see it to believe it. Saturday it is." He replied and the corners of his lips quirked up more and more. "The man you're speaking of is a sleazy individual, ripping people off wherever he can, and getting him to pay a decent price will be practically impossible. But I will enjoy seeing you try."

"I can get him to pay any price you name." Robin teased with a nonchalant shrug. "I don't know what prices to set anyway, nor what the different objects are worth in theory. Just give me a number I can tell him, and you'll see me getting him to pay it."

"I sincerely doubt that."

"Wanna bet?" She quirked an eyebrow at him, smirking openly with just a tad of mischief in her tone. There was no way she would lose this, she was certain of that. "If you deem me so unconvincing, you should have nothing to lose."

"If you insist. What stakes shall we set?"

"Loser buys the winner a drink afterwards, how about that? We should both be able to afford that much at that point."

"Agreed. It should make for an interesting Saturday either way." Snape seemed to be entirely amused by the idea at this point, and Robin wondered if he was actually serious about doubting her in the first place. He did know better than to question her abilities, especially those she actually believed in herself, and somehow she had the feeling that agreeing to this bet was his way of encouraging her to do her best on Saturday. But he might also just be wanting to buy her a drink. The thought made Robin grin even more, and she decided that she was fine with either version.

"I hope I'll make it to Saturday in the first place…" She said then, remembering that it was only Friday now, roughly around two in the morning. "The girls have made some plans for my birthday, but after this evening, I'm not sure if I will survive any more of their ideas."

"To your luck, they will be busy with classes for most of the day, much like myself unfortunately. Are you going to be assisting Pomona with the second years again?"

"Yeah, it's the only thing I have to do. It's fun, actually, when the students aren't being idiots. Gonna be an easy day."

"Perhaps you should go to bed now nonetheless. As much as I would like to sit down now and keep you here until morning, you certainly would be better off with some sleep before your roommates drag you into whatever schemes they have set up for the morning."

"Yeah… I should go." Robin sighed, and this time she didn't even bother trying to hide her sadness about the fact. "Don't forget about the salt thing though, yes? And please tell McGonagall; even if just for the sake of helping me keep my promise."

"I will." He replied as he followed Robin to the door, keeping his eyes on her as she stepped out into the hallway. "If your roommates haven't already claimed every single minute of your day by then, perhaps we could take a walk in the afternoon."

"I would like that very much." Robin smiled up at him too happily, in too much excitement, but she couldn't bring herself to care. He already knew that she loved spending time with him; he just didn't know all of the reasons. "But for now, goodnight."

"Get out of my sight already."

"As you wish." She grinned at his feigned annoyance and not-smirk, then made her way down the hallway and back towards her room, clutching her wand in one hand and the letter in the other. Surprisingly enough, this had been a great start to her birthday after all.

When she lay in bed a little while later, she could still feel the shadow of his touch along her spine, the brush of his fingertips on her sides, and it took her a while to fall asleep like that, when part of her mind wouldn't shut up and instead kept on wondering what it would've felt like without all the fabric in between his skin and her own.

… … …

Morning, as always, came way too soon, and Robin was woken up by two overly excited girls who then proceeded to dictate her every move. Luckily she could talk them out of painting her face this year, but they still put up her hair into an intricate braid before they finally made their way to breakfast while playing some kind of game Robin never quite understood the rules to in the first place. When they arrived in the great hall, they still were terribly early for once, as they sat down at the Ravenclaw table with the boys, who each proceeded to congratulate Robin as well, and she in return thanked them all, especially Simon for the idea with the picture.

Once the hall had filled up with students and staff alike –Robin took careful notice of the fact that McGonagall was once again sitting next to Snape, chatting away amicably while the latter looked indifferent as always– the beginning of the meal was announced, and the foods and drinks were sent up from the kitchens. The moment everyone had been waiting for had finally arrived, and when Robin looked around, she saw more excited faces than she dared to count. Obviously the news about the prank had made their rounds among the student body, and spread even beyond the Ravenclaw table. In the careful attempt not to be entirely obvious about it, Robin then observed Snape and McGonagall. Both of them went with coffee this morning, and if she wasn't mistaken, they both focused on their mugs a little too long before moving to drink at last. Neither of them pulled a face, nor did McGonagall falter in her one sided chat with the bored man next to her, which relieved Robin quite a bit. Once she looked over at Jorien, the girl mouthed a quiet 'thank you', to which Robin answered with a single subtle nod. Then both their attention was drawn back to the head table, when a happy coincidence decided that it should be Morgan who first made a show of spitting out his salted coffee in an indignant spout. A wave of giggles ran through the student body, and while more professors followed Morgan's example mere seconds later, the giggles turned into straight out laughter. McGonagall made an attempt to hide the fact that she had known in advance, going neatly along with the other professors' surprise and outrage, while Snape however merely let his eyes travel over the students in a menacing glare. When his eyes caught Robin's, however, his face brightened up ever so slightly with a not-smirk for a moment, then he continued his cold inspection of the tables and Robin turned back to her breakfast. Perhaps seeing Morgan spitting out his coffee had made her morning a little better after all, and knowing that Snape had succeeded to get McGonagall, out of all people, to play along with this scheme definitely made her both happy and proud.

The day then continued on quite as good as it had started. During the herbology class she helped with, Sprout not only congratulated her right away, but also gifted her a beautiful scalpel-like knife that was small in size, but sharper than Robin thought possible. The gesture honestly surprised her, but the herbology professor insisted that she couldn't continue watching Robin use that old rusty thing she had been using for both her in- and out-of-class work for the last two years. A little overwhelmed but very much grateful, Robin finally accepted the highly useful gift, and stored it in her pocket for now, just before first students filed into the greenhouse.

The next surprise came during lunch, when Robin found yet another wrapped gift waiting for her in her spot at the Ravenclaw table, where her small group of appreciated people was already awaiting her arrival. Upon Robin's inquiry about the package, they all shrugged and said it had just suddenly been there some time after they'd sat down. Her name was written on a piece of paper that was tugged into the wrapping, but she didn't quite recognise the handwriting. Odd… why were so many people giving her gifts for her birthday, all of a sudden? She appreciated it, of course, but it made her wonder nonetheless. Then, encouraged by her overly curious friends, Robin finally unwrapped the gift, only to reveal a small and desperately old looking book. 'The Unforgivable Curses: A detailed study'... The title alone made the hairs in Robin's neck stand up, while the small group of people around here was simply confused. Of course they understood the title, but they were just as clueless about who would give such a book to Robin as she herself was. There was no note, no letter, nothing but the slip of paper with her name on it, which she tugged in between the pages after briefly flipping through them in search for any more pleasant or unpleasant surprises. But it was just a book, a quite rare one if Robin wasn't entirely mistaken, and certainly not of the kind you would find in a school library. If anyone saw her with this, especially one of the professors, they might just think she was up to no good; thus Robin stored it away in her backpack, making sure to inspect it more thoroughly later today. Preferably together with Snape, he knew way more about these things than anyone else, and he appreciated a good mystery quite as much as she did.

After lunch, when Robin was just about to head to her room to pass the time and perhaps change into something warmer before Snape would be done with his classes for the day, she found herself stopped in her path, surprised yet again by something she hadn't quite expected. This time it was McGonagall who, after a quick glance down the hallway, first congratulated Robin, and then also thanked her for the indirect warning this morning. What surprised Robin however was when the professor took her hand, placed a small and surprisingly cold object in it, and then closed her fingers around it even before Robin could see what it was.

"You did not receive this from me, do you understand?" She asked with an intent look at Robin, who in return merely had the time to nod before the professor turned on her heels and was off down the hallway a second later.

Confused, Robin opened her hand again and her eyes fell onto a key that was now resting in her palm, heavy and cold and no less ancient than the book she had already received an hour earlier. What on earth was going on here that she was missing? What was this key for, in a school that –as far as Robin knew– locked all doors with magic anyway? And why was McGonagall so keen on keeping it a secret? Robin couldn't answer either question, but she hid the key in her locket anyway, to keep it safe until she knew what she was to do with it. Then she finally made for her room, with the intention to get some long overdue rest at last.

… … …

Shortly before four in the afternoon, Robin quietly let herself into Snape's office during the last minutes of the class he was teaching next door. She had indeed changed into something warm enough to be comfortable outside (for once!), and then thought it a nice idea to pick him up here to go for her promised walk. That at least would give them a good two hours before dinner, and thus enough time to actually get away from the castle for a little while. Content with her plan, Robin took her perch on the edge of the desk, not bothering to sit down properly for the little time she planned to stay here. It wasn't long indeed before the door between office and classroom flew open, and a very much annoyed Snape stormed into the room, throwing the door shut behind himself again without looking back. Still it took a few seconds for his eyes to find Robin's, but then he stopped in his track while the tension remained written all over his features.

"Don't." Was all he said in a deep and warning tone, and Robin knew very well what he meant, but she just couldn't help it. She had to smile, brightly and without any attempt to hide it, and he rolled his eyes in return, the tension fleeting, while he tried not to smile in return. "You are insufferable. Just let me be angry in peace."

"I'd rather not. Because I can't be happy when you're upset, so logically I will have to see to it that you're happy. For my own sake." She shrugged easily, and her eyes followed him as he moved to drop a stack of notebooks next to her on the desk. "And I'm here to claim what's been promised to me. Before you can find a way to get out of it."

"Whyever would I want to? Wasn't it I who asked for a moment of your precious time in the first place?" He raised his eyebrows at her for a second, then grabbed his warmer robes from the back of his chair. "I would hardly want to miss the narrow time frame I was given to spend with you."

"Oh come on, I'm not that busy! You're the one who had to teach all day… I've just been in my room ever since lunch."

"Napping, as it seems." He quipped, finally unable to keep the not-smirk off his face, and Robin felt called out immediately.

"How the hell do you know that again?"

"Your hair tells me all about it. Admittedly, the difference from lunch to now is very subtle, especially with the braid, but I know what you look like when you wake up. I've seen it before."

The blush that rose to Robin's face immediately was accompanied by a wave of tingles that were equally a result of his words and her own imagination. Yes, they had woken up in the same room before. But not together, in the way she would've liked. Not the time to think about that now.

"Well, you caught me." Robin finally replied, forcing away the previous string of thoughts. "I was napping because I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. I'm fine with little sleep, generally, but less than two hours isn't enough even for me. With the two herbology classes of the first and second years this morning, on top of two meals with the girls, I honestly just needed some rest."

"What kept you from getting a good night's sleep in the first place?" He asked in return, as they left the office and started making their way outside, unseen as always, through the many rooms and passages Robin found herself actually able to remember at this point. She had no idea how Snape even knew about all these shortcuts and secret paths in the castle, but she was glad to have learned about them too. Wandering around unseen was a lot easier like this.

"Oh, you know… just too many thoughts spinning in my mind." She shrugged, careful not to let slip that it had been thoughts about him that had kept her awake. Thoughts about them, together.

"I understand. Your visit also left me thinking for quite a while." He said, as they arrived at the foot of the hill, under the open grey sky at last. "I have come to the conclusion, for example, that you were right. My gift to you may be considered a gift indeed."

"Where did that change of mind come from?"

"I couldn't find an argument against yours. Giving someone a gift is an act of caring, and as you rightly so pointed out, caring extends way beyond the material. Thus a gift should be judged by the amount of care put into it, not its material worth."

"That's pretty much what I was trying to say last night, yes." Robin smiled up at him, doing her best not to trip over anything while they made their way towards their by now common favorite place outside the castle. The shoreline of the lake. "I received three more gifts today, even though I'm not so sure if the latter two go by our definition of 'gift' in that sense. The care as well as the message behind them are kinda, well, untranslatable to me. Anyway, I've been dying to tell you about it all day."

"I'm listening. And intrigued, seeing as once again you just have to build up suspense."

"Well, first there was Sprout." Robin started, in ignorance of his second comment, and pulled the delicately ornamented knife out of her robes, showing it to Snape with a smile. "I was quite surprised that she got me a gift at all, to be honest. We've gotten a bit closer through my assistance in her classes, but I didn't think she liked me enough to even remember my birthday, leave alone to get me anything."

"She gushes about you all the time actually, in the staff room, or during meals… It seems to be one of her favourite pastimes to tell everyone, especially me, about your brilliant work." Snape replied, then handed the knife back to Robin who slipped it back into her pocket. "I'm not surprised that she would give you a present such as this; she holds you in a higher regard than she does with most of her colleagues."

"I certainly appreciate it. The gift, and that she's obviously quite fond of me too. Especially since the other two items that were given to me today are way more confusing in their nature and their circumstances."

"I know you received a book during lunch. What was that about?"

"I haven't got even the slightest idea. Nobody knows who it's from or why it was given to me, and I was hoping you could help me solve this mystery." She said, and summoned the object in discussion from her bag, once again handing it to Snape. "There's a piece of paper inside with my name on it, perhaps the handwriting will tell you more."

He stopped walking once his eyes fell onto the title of the book, and he inspected it for a moment longer until he looked up at Robin once again, in sincere surprise. "I have heard of this book, but admittedly I believed it to be nothing more than a myth. It still might be a mere joke; we will have to find out about that."

"What's special about it? It probably contains a bit more information than we are taught here at school, but that can't be it, right?"

"Supposedly, it contains methods to resist all three of the unforgivable curses. I highly doubt that rumour however, for obvious reasons."

"Obvious to you, perhaps. Enlighten me."

"If there was a way you could cheat a curse that was banned by the ministry, wouldn't they have an interest in making that knowledge known and thereby eradicate the usefulness of such curses in the first place?"

"That definitely makes sense. But perhaps they also believe the book and thus the methods to be nothing more than a myth? Either way, I have this book now, and I have no idea who gave it to me."

"I could give you an answer to that even without looking at the handwriting." Snape scoffed, but opened the book and inspected the snippet of paper nonetheless. "Quite obviously, Professor Dumbledore has an interest in it that you become better acquainted with these curses. I don't have to tell you that this isn't a good sign."

"No…" Robin breathed in return, and if she was honest with herself, she could also have guessed by herself that it was the headmaster who had given the book to her. "If Dumbledore wants me to read this, I bloody better should. No matter what his intention behind it is."

"Indeed. I would ask him about it, but he hasn't been letting me in on anything of importance for a while now, and I doubt that he would give me an honest answer even if I tried. We are better off drawing our own conclusions from now on. May I read the book, once you have?"

"Obviously! It's really not much of a gift and more of a homework assignment the headmaster expects us both to do."

"An oddly fitting way to describe it. Tell me, if that was the second 'gift', what is the third?"

"Something I understand even less." She sighed, then fiddled the key out of her locket to hand it over too. "This was given to me without a comment, without context, and with the instruction to not reveal who gave it to me."

"That certainly-..."

"It was McGonagall." Robin shrugged with one shoulder, giving him a small smile which only widened as his brows furrowed in confusion. "I'm not keeping secrets from you, and she certainly knows that. But I have every intention to keep her involvement a secret from absolutely everyone else."

"If she was concerned about keeping it a secret in the first place, it likely means that Dumbledore doesn't know. This in return means that whatever his reason might be for not wanting you to have the key, it isn't to your advantage. But the key likely is."

"Why do you think so?"

"Dumbledore has long lost his conscience between the bigger picture and his own ambitions, but Minerva will do what she can to protect the innocent from any misfortune. And if said misfortune was caused or tolerated by the headmaster, I believe she will go against his wishes to act on her own conscience instead. Put differently, Dumbledore's concern lies with the school, and its place in the grand scheme of things. Minerva's concern lies with the learning and wellbeing of both students and staff."

"But… that would mean that Dumbledore is willingly letting something bad happen to me. And McGonagall is trying to protect me from it, even though Dumbledore doesn't want her to."

"So far my theory at least, but I have no proof of it other than both our past experiences. It certainly would make sense in the context of both her own words after the incident with Morgan on the first night of term, and also the fact that Dumbledore gave you the book now."

"Oh great…" Robin groaned under her breath and let herself fall back against the tree behind her. "What have I done that makes me everyone's favourite victim? First Morgan, now Dumbledore, and well… There's literally an entire school full of people to pick on! Why do they keep choosing me?"

"I have another question for you. Why does Minerva believe that an old key will help you against either of them?"

"Yes. Great! Thank you for making matters even more complicated." She rolled her eyes with a huff, but felt bad for it immediately. Time to be better than her emotions. "Sorry… that was really unfair. None of this is your fault."

"It's quite alright." He replied calmly and took the remaining two steps to stand in front of Robin, handing her the book and the key. "I can't say I'm not equally concerned about these developments."

"I just can't get rid of the feeling that it all comes down to Morgan somehow. If McGonagall is the proof of a connecting point, back on the day of the welcoming feast and today, it means that Dumbledore sees Morgan as he is, as a threat, but doesn't want to do anything about it. Not because he doesn't care about Morgan's actions, but because he has some grand scheme in mind where Morgan is a chess piece of yet unknown importance and I'm just a casualty he's willing to sacrifice for whatever greater cause. And McGonagall doesn't want that to happen, but she also can't tell me about it because he doesn't want her to. Does that even make any sense? This is a school and not some bloody thriller!" She scoffed as she returned the book to her bag and the key to her locket, then however didn't lean back against the tree. There was too much tension in her body, too much anxiety in her mind, and thus she simply looked up at Snape with an almost sad expression. "Honestly, what am I missing here? I just… I don't understand what's going on anymore."

"Right now, all that matters is that you are out here, with me. You are supposed to have an enjoyable birthday and not a mental breakdown over people who definitely do not deserve it." He said while lightly tracing the outside of her hand with one finger, and when the gesture made Robin smile instinctively, he took her hand entirely and gave it a gentle squeeze. "We will find answers to all the questions, given the right time and opportunity. You and me together, like always. Yes?"

"Yes." Robin sighed, and her smile broadened into a real one that captured the rest of her face as well. "Let's walk on then, shall we? You could tell me what the fifth years did that was so terribly annoying during your last class."

"The better question would be what they didn't do to annoy me. I cannot believe I have to get those dunderheads through their OWLs at the end of the year." He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, and slowly let go of Robin's hand as they sauntered on, along the shoreline. Oh well… Robin was happy about the gesture nonetheless; as small and fleeting as it had been, it had been initiated entirely by him for once.

"You better start telling me then." She suggested, quirking an eyebrow at him with a smile. "If it's such a long list. What did they do wrong this time?"

"Would you like me to answer chronologically or alphabetically?"

_____________________________

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[demonologist-in-denim]

Review of Falling Skies by VivatRex

The first Crowley redemption fanfic I ever came across was Falling Skies by VivatRex. This was shortly after 8x23 aired, and at the time, there wasn’t much fic out there involving Crowley that portrayed him as anything other than a villain. (There still isn’t, to be fair.) And there definitely wasn’t much out there in which Crowley actively sought redemption, much less worked alongside and eventually earned himself a place among the Winchester extended family. So the fact that Falling Skies was a slow burn Mooseley fic was just something I was willing to accept in order to read what I was desperately looking for in a Crowley fic.

I was inspired by this post to go back and reread Falling Skies for the first time since it was completed in 2015. All 328,000+ words of it. It’s certainly the longest fanfic I’ve ever read. And I’ve read fanfics that more closely align to what I’m looking for – but because this was my first Crowley redemption fanfic, I’ve never forgotten it. There are parts of it - scenes, even single lines - that I vividly recall. There are scenes and dynamics and plot points in this fic that were significant influences on my own writing, and are so deeply entrenched in my understanding of post-cure Crowley that rereading this fic felt like some tantalizingly familiar part of myself echoing back to me after a long absence. This is the longest review I have ever written, but then, it is a very long fic.

To quickly summarize the fic, Falling Skies begins after 8x23, with the angels falling to earth and Sam having collapsed from attempting to abort the demon trials. The overarching plot follows Dean, Sam, humanized Cas and resentfully cured Crowley as they attempt to deal with the fallout of Abaddon’s return and the shuttering of the Gates of Heaven. Along the way, a new villainous angel makes a play to rule both Heaven and Hell, angels and demons battle out their differences on Earth in a massive slaughter, and the Man Tablet is discovered, which reveals that the ultimate apocalypse involves merging all the known planes of existence into a hellish nightmare. Throughout all of this, Crowley struggles with a blood-born conscience that begins to form itself into a soul, a mental and emotional link that now connects him and Sam due to the incomplete cure, and rival selves: the cunning, successful King of Hell and a man haunted by his past, longing to make amends. It’s equal parts Mooseley, Destiel, and a season’s worth of near-world ending scenario.

Scenes from this fic that I’ll never forget:

The opening scene is Crowley in the church at the end of 8x23, beset by guilt and shame as he can feel for the first time in hundreds of years the depth of pain and suffering he’s caused.

His reaction shortly after the aborted cure to remembering he killed Meg. “Crowley’s stomach twisted in a painful knot at the thought of Meg…The unspeakable acts that hadn’t seemed unspeakable at all at the time…He promptly rolled down the Impala’s window. He leaned out, vomiting onto the road.”

The scene in which Crowley admits to Sam that he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself after the cure, “if you’d cured me, I would’ve hung myself the minute I found a long enough rope.”

The scene in which Crowley faces the demon who tortured him on the rack, and sees himself in comparison to that demon, hears his own awful words to Kevin, “What you people fail to under is that you are nothing” and “it makes him sick to what little remained of his soul to think that his mindset had been similar to this…only a few months prior. That he hadn’t been much better than this, once.”

Fergus’ death scene was particularly memorable. Driven by fear of his own impending death and going to Hell, he accidently kills someone he loves, and takes his own life by hanging. It’s not ever the backstory I would have imagined for him, but it was written with real heart behind it.

Having chosen to complete the cure, that Crowley receives complete forgiveness. Whatever substitutes for divine authority in this fic restores his soul fully, forgives him for all his past sins, and frees Crowley from the ruinous effects of damnation. “He’d been forgiven. Crowley sobbed into his hands.” It’s not the story I would have written for Crowley, but at a time when Crowley redemption fic was almost nonexistent, this was powerful.

In a rare moment in which Cas is being a self-righteous asshole, Dean remarks that “you’re really reminding me of someone…a douche bag I met back in ’08 who threatened to throw me back into Hell if I didn’t show him the respect he deserved.” Later, after he’s had time to calm down and begins to feel guilt, Cas asks “The ‘douche bag’ who raised you from Hell. Did you hate him?”

This fic offered a lot of the emotional struggles and scenes, the waypoints, I wanted to see along Crowley’s road of redemption.

His struggle with embracing more human emotions and perspective. His subconscious and then intentional rejection of the monster he used to be.

Being offered a choice between more power and more humanity, and after a long internal struggle, choosing humanity.

Ultimately choosing the Winchesters and (Crowley’s own conception of) the greater good over demonic self-interests. Choosing “one tiny forever [with people he cared about over] a never-ending existence” without them.

Crowley grasping – and openly admitting to valuing – humanity for its own sake. And that while in becoming less demon and more human, in becoming family with the Winchesters, he may lose his powers and influence, his immortality and near-invincibility, that he gained everything else. “Love, friendship, family, redemption…It’s all worth it!”

Crowley in this fic is written as having that change of heart and perspective because of and for Sam’s sake, and I very much write all of that happening for Crowley’s own sake and born of something innate to him, but seeing all of this in a fic assured me that I wasn’t the only one who thought that redemption was possible for Crowley. It meant a lot to me at the time. I guess, considering I was willing to reread this whole fic again all these year later, it still does.

Crowley admitting – to himself and to others – or directly referencing feelings of guilt, remorse and shame for his actions. It wasn’t explained away as just the effects of the cure. Something deep inside him had been changed, restored.

The very first scene resoundingly validated my own understanding of 8x23 – Crowley caught up in the flood of emotions brought on by the cure, seeing his actions for the first time as truly monstrous, hearing the cries of his victims. Holy mother of sin, the things I’ve done.

The admittance to himself that time alone in the bunker’s dungeon, in the dark, was too much time left to self-reflection and memories – the nagging of his conscience when he’d rather suppress it entirely.

The rawness of his emotions, his unfamiliarity with how to process them, “it had been a constant struggle not to start sobbing like a bloody child since Sam had almost cured him.”

His increasing hatred of other demons, not because of their disloyalty or incompetence, but because of what they symbolize: their delight in suffering, the misery they cause, that he was anything like them and might still be – or worse, might regress and become again.

In canon, Crowley asks Sam where to begin looking for forgiveness. He references wanting to make amends again in 10x17 when he tells Sam he thought making changes to Hell “might matter.” But after the cure, Crowley in canon never really expresses one way or another whether he thinks he’s capable of or can earn redemption. We’re left with subtext that suggests Crowley thinks he’s too far gone for that – or has been convinced that that’s the case by the attitude of the Winchesters and Cas. Fanfiction, this fic, offered up what canon couldn’t:

Crowley admitting to hating what he was and wanting to be better. Saying things like “I’ve been past the point of forgiveness for a very long time” and “There’s no forgiveness, not for a thing like me” and hating that.

Feeling beyond ashamed to have so thoroughly damned himself beyond any hope of redemption. “Even now, he would never forgive himself for all he’d done – and truthfully, he didn’t believe he deserved forgiveness.” Crowley feeling that way both kills me – because it’s not true, dammit – and fulfills a perverse need to see the character suffer through all the necessary growth to actually become that better self that is worthy of that redemption.

Crowley admits his own efforts are “not enough!...It’ll never be enough” compared with his sins. In canon, Crowley never says as much, but plenty of other characters, particularly the Winchesters, are more than happy to come to that conclusion for him.

Again, I am amazed – looking back at this fic – of how much of Crowley’s road to redemption that this fic established for me. One of the waypoints was Crowley coming to a point where he recognizes and then internalizes that being a demon is bad. That seems obvious, but Crowley had so much to gain from being a demon. Did gain so much, compared to his human life. But in becoming a demon, souls lose something, something of immense and irreplaceable value.

After the aborted cure, Crowley “had all the souls of the damned behind him, and he’d never felt weaker.”

And then there was the matter of watching what other demons did, the harm they caused – seeing the consequences and aftermath of the pain and suffer he had caused, how that effected the people around him, the people Crowley now cared about.

There’s coming to grips with the understanding that possessing a meatsuit is a horrible, violating experience for that person.

And that being this broken, corrupted thing is something Crowley wants to get away from, forget about, suppress. And as he increasingly becomes one of the boys, it’s something he tries – without success – to put behind him. “Would you believe that I’d almost forgotten?...Forgot what I was.”

Crowley’s road to redemption, his “transformation” in this fic, is slow. As appealing as the plot point of the demon cure was in canon, I couldn’t imagine the reforming of a soul of the demonic smoke to be anything other than slow, painful, and complicated. It had to be that way, it had to be something of value, to be a redemption that was actually earned.

Crowley’s humanity shines through a little at a time. In most of fanfiction, we go straight to the heart of the matter. That’s what we’re here for. But it’s so much more impactful when the glimpses of Crowley’s feelings and humanity are rare, and veiled behind snark, dismissal, and misdirection.

Crowley has moments of both begrudged self-reflection and open admission. He surprises himself in moments with the sincerity of his own remarks.

Grapples with longing for humanity and the good aspects that come with that, as much as he hates human weakness.

He often considers himself not human enough, and is hard on himself for that.

He learns to ask for help, and the scene in which he asks for help in completing the cure is something I longed to see play out in canon.

There is a scene where a character can see Crowley’s true form – what an angel sees when looking at humans, demons and other beings – and can see that it’s healing from the corrosive effects of damnation and being on Hell’s rack. This is something that I’ve never explored in my own work, but have often thought about and wondered how to visualize for the reader. Visualize Crowley “regaining pieces of his soul,” as Eliot in Leverage recently put it.

There are moments in the fic in which Crowley’s demonic instincts and humanity align, have the same goal, which is something I love and would have wanted to see explored in canon.

At one particular vulnerable moment, Crowley admits to the cure having saved him – “You saved me” – from the damage done to a soul corrupted into a demon. Saved him from himself, stopping him from doing more evil in the future.

The tragedy of that, of course, is that the Winchesters didn’t save Crowley intentionally, didn’t do it for Crowley’s sake, and because of that, Crowley in canon could only begrudge having been transformed from an “icy, unfeeling, ruthless, perfect” demon into a “messy, emotional” shadow of himself.

Even as Crowley laments “not being human enough” in this fic, he is also conflicted about not being demon enough.

The part of Crowley that still revels in depravity and violent strength, in ultimate power, can’t stand the idea of being weakened by human nature. He can’t believe he’s starting to feel all those rainbow, feel-good emotions that make such fools of the Winchesters and their kind.

Equally, not being demon enough undermines Crowley’s legitimacy as King of Hell. If he isn’t the most ruthless, sadistic, uncaring monster out there, he isn’t fit to rule Hell. And not being the king, who is he? And from where does he obtain his power, his means of security and self-preservation? It is as much an existential crisis as it is a matter of wanting to hold onto ill-gotten power and authority.

Giving into his more human side, “would he even be able to rule Hell,” or would he be reduced back to the nothing that he was before bashing his way through the ranks?

And if he gives up humanity for being King? For power? At least then “I’ll have power. I’ll have respect. I’ll have the best a demon can have. The best I can have…It’s all I can do.”

Even in admitting letting go of humanity secures him power, Crowley admits that he chooses that because it’s all he thinks he’s worthy of, a sad consolation prize. Crowley never admits as much in canon, but I absolutely read all this as the reason for his inability to let go of Hell and move to join the Winchesters sooner.

Crowley’s perspective on being king in this fic and how that perspective changes over the course of the slow burn is perhaps the greatest strength of the fic.

Throughout much of the fic, Crowley legitimately loves being king. He loves the authority, he loves the power. The fic leans heavily on his cunning and strategic mind, something that canon failed to capitalize on after Crowley became a second-tier member of Team Free Will. While reading, I honestly believed that the author was writing a Crowley that loved the crown and would begrudge giving it up.

But slowly, what he loves about being a king cannot outweigh everything he hates about Hell, demonkind, and what being king costs him.

Very much in line with canon, Crowley gets to a point where he is forced to admit to himself that despite all the perks and benefits, he actually hates being the King of Hell.

He believes he has to keep being king to keep Hell in line and less of a threat – just like in canon. And uses that as a justification, along with love of power, to remain trapped in his own personal hell.

A few aspects of being King of Hell that the fic explores that canon doesn’t include:

The brilliant idea that “Hell chooses who leads it.” Demonic loyalty shifts from an unsuitable leader to a powerful alternative, and when that loyalty shifts, the power of Hell shifts from to that particular demon or Knight of Hell. That’s what gives the king (or queen) of Hell their immense power and legitimizes their authority. Love that idea – it almost makes it like a…demonocracy.

Crowley feels responsible towards the overall protection of demonkind. This is somewhat suggested in canon, such as when Crowley refers to Bobby Singer as being a surge to “his kind.” But it doesn’t have quite the paternalistic quality to it, compared to in the fic when Crowley gets angry that Abaddon is using “his subjects” as cannon fodder against angels. “Yes, they were traitorous, weak-minded prats, but they were still his.”

But the most significant aspect of Hell and demons this fic explores – in my opinion – is how Hell turns souls into demons. Falling Skies delves into Crowley’s own torture on the rack, “he kept seeing flashes – brief, vivid visions, memories” of “blood and laughter and screaming ad begging and pain.”

Souls are strapped to the rack and torn apart, “destroyed brick by brick…violated and torn down” and then, made into a demon, “pieced back together into something else…something evil. Something poisonous and wrong.” This unmaking so as to create from the ruins departs from the idea that a soul caves or gives into to evil in Hell, and instead invests in the idea that it is something done to them, that it is a perversion of everything that they are, which in my opinion is a much more compelling take on demons.

Hell doesn’t only take a soul’s humanity, it takes their memories as well. Crowley references how “his torture in Hell had been enough to erase almost every part of his human life. He honestly only knew the barest details of the man that was Fergus.”

What he does remember is primarily the bad memories, as if Hell intentionally allowed him to hold onto those memories to either fuel his damnation or to discourage him from being nostalgic for his human life.

Much of what Crowley actually feels, even as a demon, is suppressed, “drowned in smoke”, numbing him to his actions and clouding his own thoughts and emotions in Hell’s influence. “He’d never realized how much he’d lost, how much he’d blocked out, how much he hadn’t even thought was worth remembering.”

All of this significantly influenced my own ideas about what it meant to be a demon – to be a semi-cured demon – and Crowley’s existential struggle.

Some smaller, more personal characteristics of Crowley that this fic influenced in my own writing include:

Crowley being a cook, and rolling his eyes at the boys fearing he’s going to poison them

Crowley referring to or thinking of the Winchesters as “his humans” rather than him being “their demon”

Crowley stating in fanfiction long before that final scene in 12x23 that he “always wins”

pointing out how even before the cure, he has carried his own weight in the saving-the-world department. “Who helped you stop the apocalypse? Me. Who helped you take out Castiel when he tried to pay god? Me. Who helped you stop Dick and his cronies? Me! ARE YOU NOTICING A TREND HERE?”

In this fic, Crowley takes a younger meatsuit – the son of his canon meatsuit. Which made me very uncomfortable and felt hypocritical, because by this point, Crowley is very much one of the good guys and should have had qualms about that. But then angelic powers make it possible for Crowley to take that meatsuit and the person is snapped back into existence, whole and unaware, and Crowley is visibly relieved by that. Vessels and meatsuits has always been something that the canon never properly addressed or explored. And while Crowley taking just a younger version of his vessel felt like ageism here, at least the author addressed the moral complications of his choice.

Crowley’s central, guiding concept of redemption and what it means to do the right thing was also established for me in this fic.

He has the chance to murder the demon that tortured him, that led him on his path to damnation. The demon attempts to play the mortality card, telling Crowley to “kill again and blacken your heart even more.” And Crowley, in perfect character, replies “in for a penny, in for a pound.”

Crowley truly believes himself to be beyond redemption, but that he can use his damnation as another resource in the larger fight for what is right. If he’s already damned, no reason to hold back – he can do the ugly, messy things the others can’t, what might even need to be done to secure the win for Team Free Will.

He reflects on his changing perspective of morality, how he thought good and evil were just human concepts that got in way, that people mistakenly draw line between good and evil when really it’s a spectrum that people move up and down all the time.

What he comes to believe in, with his semi-restored humanity, is choices. “That night that Sam had injected him with human blood, that night he’d come close to being saved (or doomed?), he had seen the darkness inside of himself, and he had hated it…there was good and evil within everyone, or at least the potential for it. What mattered was what side you chose, or at least which you chose the most often, which you kept trying to fight your way back to…For the time being, Crowley was not evil. And really, he rather liked that.”

That idea of Crowley fighting his way back to a better version of himself, to his morality and humanity being defined by his choices – that is central to me in Crowley’s character and road to redemption.

Much of Crowley’s relationship with the boys post-cure for me was based on this fic as well.

With the cure coursing through him, seeing Dean as an actual person for the first time.

His professional respect for them morphing into admiration, into protectiveness, because “they tried. And that should count for something, damn it.”

His understanding that the boys’ don’t just use people up – they do so by giving them something to believe in, something to fight for, and letting the cause use them up.

Dean making a deal with the angels to kill the King of Hell, and being unable to go through with it, then choosing to stand between Crowley and the angels.

Crowley recognizing his and Cas’ similarities, discussing with him the benefits and difficulties of being human or semi-human.

He and Cas getting a drink together and sharing their woes.

Cas admitting that his old angelic biases being in the way of seeing before how alike they are.

Crowley and Cas joking that in their team-up, Crowley is Dean and Cas is Sam.

Idea explored in this fic that I loved and want to flesh out in a fic:

Closing the Gates of Hell means all the demons, including Crowley, will be trapped down there forever. And a) Crowley considers or b) the Winchesters consider without telling Crowley - turning him human so that he won’t be trapped down there with demonkind.

A third or even second attempt at the cure might not be possible, or not take full effect.

Turning a soul into a demon takes proper time, that “hurrying the torture, letting out the souls before they’re fully cooked…churning out demons with bits of human still left in them. You’d think it would make them less dangerous, but it just makes them a hell of a lot worse. They’re out of their minds and out of control.”

And I very much appreciated that it referenced the reality that in killing a possessed meatsuit, the boys were killing a victim, a possessed person. That is something that sort of fell away and became an acceptable collateral damage, and never sat very well with me.

Falling Skies also introduced a loyal lackey for Crowley by the name of Laharl who I loved as a character. Crowley very much needed that someone in later seasons.

Castiel attempting to heal Crowley, and him suffering an instinctual fear that the angel intends to smite him.

The boys – and Crowley – struggling with the unwelcome knowledge that if Crowley chooses to become king again, there will come a time when their interests don’t align, and they will have to be enemies again. How much Crowley doesn’t want that, can’t bear the thought he might hurt them again.

I know this is a really long review. And I honestly don’t expect anyone to read it all the way through. I wrote it more for myself than anything. Because, even though there is plenty about the way that I write Crowley that differs from the way this author did, there is also so much here that influenced my understanding of him and his road to redemption. When there was no other fanfiction about Crowley fighting his way out of the dark, about choosing the Winchesters and to be better, there was Falling Skies. And I will always be immensely grateful for that.

Read the fic on AO3

#spn #spn fanfic #crowley #fic rec #happy sulphur saturday

[kacychase]

After the reawakening [EzarelxMC]

[Commentary: Please understand that all of this has my heart inserted into this after paying too much for a game dear to me, yet disappointing. Beemov, I hate to bother you as it seems to be a waste of time, but please… Listen to your readers, at least to the demographic you aim for and their constructive criticism. Your game has so much potential, it could be so much more, and it breaks my heart that it’s not. Please, for our sake… We have been loyal to you for so long. This fanfic is here because I loved the original story and characters – with its flaws all included, and ultimately, we love your characters (at least the original), and just want a game that gives them justice, that doesn’t make us feel used more so than enjoying a story]

 Warnings: cheesy, so damn cheesy, level of extra layers of cheese, ALSO CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR BOTH ORIGINS AND NEW ERA SEASONS

Works: Ezarel (this one) | Nevra | Valkyon | Leiftan (Valkyon and Leiftan in the works)

 When I chose you

It felt right.

The way you held me tight,

The way you would brighten

Up my day would

Bring sparkles in your eyes

That I wouldn’t be able to forget.

 When things went south,

When people silenced my mouth,

When you let me down,

It took my time to count on you again.

 Yet, here I stand, in your arms,

In your scent and your comfort,

In your loving embrace, forever.

Crystal or not, you were an ever-lasting

believer in me when I was in need.

 Who could blame you for leaving,

for your sacrifice or getting

Over me?

In the end, I love you, still,

And whether you come back or not,

All of the memories, the emotions

Will never escape them,

Even if Mnemosyne’s spell

Would compel me to do so.

 Nothing would make me get over you.

Nothing would make me want to lose you again.

My sacrifice should not be in vain,

And your happiness is what I need to

See as best for you.

Yet… Just so you know,

I love you still, and have not forgotten.

 [Ezarel]

It has been… A while, apparently. The war has worn all of us down, and I can’t imagine that Ezarel wasn’t caught with it’s consequences either. I wouldn’t have wanted for Valkyon to die, for Ezarel to lose me, for Ykhar to die, for Leiftan and me to sacrifice ourselves, or just all of this death to happen around me. But, here I am, selfish enough to hope, and to dream of a future with the man I grew to love 7 years ago.

I have travelled on a Chau’Kobow for seemingly weeks. Huang Hua has granted me the wish to travel to him after a letter has forewarned him. It took a lot, and I repeat, a lot of convincing to ask that of her. Why would Ezarel want to retreat with Twylda and Marie-Anne in a completely different place? I don’t know, and frankly, I don’t care. The crystal seems to need me less and less, and Mathieu will have to suffice to explain the whole ordeal with the human world molding with ours.

Hoping that his reaction won’t be as cold as Nevra’s, I ask myself more often than not if I am desperate with what I am doing, and try to avoid the obvious.

When I arrive at the destination, in the far horizon of this clear grass, I can see it – a house, far away from all the trouble. It feels like yesterday when he asked me if we could just ditch the guard once the whole war would be over.

I still wouldn’t hesitate to take the offer… But would he?

Only one way to find out. With a deep, shaky breath, I approach the far house with an increasing pulse. My whole body practically aches to hug him again.

As I come closer, I realize that the whole village seems to be part of a more peaceful and modest community. Having got to know Ezarel, I bet it would be a change of heart to his former life – a complete new beginning. It must be just what he wanted.

Slowly, I get down from the Shau’kobow, taking the last steps to the house. I can’t help but take deep breaths again and again, but it wouldn’t work on slowing my heartbeat.

The door is nice and wooden, just as modest as the town and it’s surroundings. I even see my own hand shiver when I try to knock on the door when suddenly, I a loud noise of heavy weights falling on the ground from behind me alerts me.

Turning around, I instinctively lay a hand on my weapon.

And there he stands. His mouth and eyes are wide open as he watches me, apparently, the sound came from him dropping a few wood logs. Hopefully, none hit him!

But even when I want to ask if he’s okay, if he wasn’t hurt, it’s as if his eyes held me in place. My body begins to shake even more brutally, and I can see how his wide-eyed expression doesn’t change. Please, don’t let this be a mistake. I wouldn’t be able to bear it…

“Gardienne,” he practically breathes out, as if it stole air from his lungs.

It feels like hours that we look at each other like this. His now wilder, untied blue hair and his ears of course are some of the first indicators of my Ezarel. But his outfit, his demeanor seems much less elegant, witty and intricate. He is wearing a simple top, pants, a belt and boots, seemingly uncaring of his poise. While he (luckily) hasn’t grown the moustache that he has once pranked me with, I can see that he seems more muscular, and that this life has changed him.

And I wasn’t there to see him.

But now I’m here.

Without wanting to, my vision blurs from all the tears that roll down my cheeks, and I can just see that he is going through the same thing.

“How are you doing?” I ask him with a crack in my voice. Seriously, Gardy, can’t you ask for a better thing? He hasn’t seen you for seven years and might have moved on from you, and this is what you ask first?

“I-“

All of a sudden, he approaches me, his eyes still focused on nothing else but my frame. Again, it feels like we are in a bubble again that we have had when we were still in a relationship… It feels like yesterday for me.

Not daring to move until he would be okay with embracing me, he, agonizingly slowly, reaches out a hand to my face. Overall, his shaky hand seems to be moving in slow-motion as he wipes a tear away. Understanding that he might not understand what I might talk about, he finally, finally opens his mouth to speak.

“You’re back? This is not a dream?”

In his voice, I can sense so much pain… Should I have not come? Should I have stayed away after all? The sudden thought ties up my thought, but feeling his hand resting on my cheek is so unbelievably calming. Hesitantly, I lay my hand on his.

“No. Should I pinch you to prove it?” I ask back with a small smile, seeing him smirk back.

“Please do,” he whispers, his voice sore.

Shortly after, I pinch him. His little smirk suddenly disappears as his body crashes against mine and he hugs me all of a sudden. the way he holds me incredibly tight, as if I could vanish any moment. As if time was ticking.

“I’m so sorry, Ezarel. I came back as soon as I could,” I whisper. This time, unlike the times before, he seems to have openly welcomed me, and again, I can see how much the elf has grown ever since the encounter.

I see how his simplicity and aura has toned down a little in its absolutely brash energy, and how much he has missed me. Uncaring of the danger of possibly choking, I tighten my grip around him.

We are shivering in place, and neither of us can say a word.

It feels as if an old system in body has awoken, and finally, it has clicked as to where I belong. Silently, I hear him laugh while his tears drop onto my clothes. This moment I do cherish.

His usual humor seems to have been swallowed in this moment, as he suddenly holds me back by an arm length, and orders me to please go inside and sit – he will just pick up the logs. Of course, I wouldn’t without helping him out, so I grin at him with a telling look.

An exhausted smile is plastered on his face. I can’t help but stare at him a bit before I bend down to pick up the rather heavy logs. After that has been done, both of us give us a look to ensure the other is fine. It must be strange for him to suddenly see me after 7 years.

Soon after, he hurries to the door to open the door. “Why, aren’t you a forthcoming gentleman today?” I smile at him, but his facial expression doesn’t seem as responsive. His smile is weaker as he says: “You learn a lot with two women around you.”

Right. Twylda and Marie-Anne must have made an impression on him. I can’t help but smirk at the image of them reprimanding him for his manners. “Why, if such a chivalrous gentleman appeared in front of me, I would have considered coming sooner,” I try to lighten up the mood, but I might have been too early.

Staring at me, he just drops the log into the corner of the room, and I decide to just do the same. While I see some elegant pieces of vials, and a little bit of a laboratory. I recognize quite a bit from his room and remember what I have seen in his vision. It’s funny how colorful his interior is in comparison to the modest wooden house. Maybe he hasn’t changed that much after all?

Standing at the side of the couch where he has sat himself down, I ask him: “May I sit?” He looks up at me, heightening his brows. He nods, following my movements with his piercing green eyes. With a hand gesture and a nod, he tells me to sit on the sofa next to him.I do so, but with well-kept space as to not overwhelm. For a while, there’s nothing but silence. This time, it’s me who initiates the conversation. “How are Marie-Anne and Twylda?” As he looks back at me with a lopsided smile, he tells me about their state. How they have helped each other to rebuild a new life, a new identity. Marie-Anne, the now healed young woman – who has grown to pass my age – has come back to the state of a helpful human being, with the help of him and Twylda. As well, the two women were able to come to a better path. Honestly, as he tells these things, they seem so incredibly unreal. When I remember Twylda screaming at us to let her to Marie-Anne as she was transported into the H.Q., she wanted nothing but to harm her. She had a lot to go through during those times, and I try to avoid thinking of the events in detail. But as I have heard in the past, I have seen videos on Youtube with a reported case in which the mother would forgive the murderer of their son, even raise them as one of their own. While it appears as a mystery to me, I am neither supposed to judge, nor do I have to understand. If both are happy, that’s all I care about.Well, that, and of course the elf who is telling me about them.“I’m sorry that I left, Gardienne.”Those words suddenly suck all of the established ease out of this room. For the first time since I have arrived, he averts his gaze. “I couldn’t stand the guard anymore. All the pressure, the tasks, all the memories to this place, and… you,” he takes a deep breath to continue. I just shake my head, knowing that he must have had a terribly hard time processing everything.Wouldn’t I also be overwhelmed if he has sacrificed himself for a cause, having me wait for months back then? And with all that happened… The war, the murders, the deaths, betrayals and other dangerous situations, who would I be to blame him?“It’s okay. I heard what you said as goodbye, and I understood. I still do, Ezarel,” I murmur, looking at him and putting my hand on his cheek. His eyes seem to become glassy again.“We’re here now,” I whisper with a smile, “And I am glad that you were doing okay after all. I’ve had a very strong boyfriend.”Swallowing hard, I realize that I don’t know about that aspect yet, and as his eyes shine with so much emotion and compassion, he just mumbles: “I don’t have anyone as of yet. I wasn’t interested, and something told me to wait.” His little smile shocks me in combination with his words. “I guess my instincts were right to do so.”Seven years.It’s been seven years, and he has waited for me. His eyes seem like a confirmation for me to go on, and I immediately lean into him to kiss him with all the passion that I have feared of losing inside the crystal. I was ready to give up on that to save him. And here we are…Did fate finally give me a happy ending?Once we separate to breathe in fresh air, his hands hugging me loosen up to look at me.His eyes shine with love that warm my whole body, and I can’t believe that this is going so fluently. “So, I hope you don’t mind accompanying this chivalrous gentleman in the future?” His eyebrow raises, but I can see that he is happy about me coming.The way I respond might be one of the most typical aspects of our relationship. Tipping with my index finger on my chin, I act pensive saying: “Hmmm… If there was payment involved, maybe I’d consider it? I’m hotly desired, you know?”His smile brightens, and it’s as if our compatibility would never be questioned.We would spend this night together, and the one after, and the days after that to slowly get back to each other.When him and I would strengthen each other in his alchemy business, I realize that he was right with running off all along. He’s all I need after all.

~~> Very cheesy fin

#eldarya #eldaryafanfiction #ezarel #eldarya new era #ezarelxgardienne #ezarelfanfic #eldaryafanfic

[tsrookie]

Alright, so today’s the three-year anniversary of Reputation a.k.a the greatest album of all time, my baby, the light of my life, the album that deserved a Grammy (trying desperately not to think about the scene from Miss Americana😭), the album that introduced us to the most beautiful couple ever, the album that shut Kimye up, and I better stop now, or else I’m not gonna shut up.

So in honour of this momentous occasion (and the fact that I reached 200+ followers! Thank you so much you guys!🥺 Love you all 3000💙), here’s a loooooong post on why Reputation is the Ethan and MC album.

1. ...Ready For It?

No one has to know

Throwback to MC saying the exact same words back in Miami.

In the middle of the night, in my dreams

You should see the things we do, baby, mmm

In the middle of the night, in my dreams

I know I'm gonna be with you

So I take my time

Remember back when MC asked for Ethan to get into bed right away during their first time? Ethan told them that he had dreamt about the moment for months, so he wasn’t going to rush it.

2. End Game

Big reputation, big reputation

Ooh you and me would be a big conversation

These two dating would be the talk of the hospital, and they know it.

Even when we'd argue, we don't do it for long

And you understand the good and bad, end up in the song

For all your beautiful traits, and the way you do it with ease

For all my flaws, paranoia, and insecurities

Think these lines are pretty self-explanatory😌

I hit you like bang

We tried to forget it, but we just couldn't

*gets war flashbacks of the ‘reset’ phase*😭 They tried to make it work, but we all know how Ch 8 of book 2 went😌

I swear I don't love the drama, it loves me

Perfect for our chaotic MC😌

3. Don’t Blame Me

Do I... really have to explain this one?

For you, I would cross the line

I would waste my time

I would lose my mind

They say she's gone too far this time

Do we need a recap of our rule-breaking MC?

And baby, for you, I would fall from grace

Just to touch your face

If you walk away

I'd beg you on my knees to stay

He was willing to risk his (mostly) rule-abiding reputation for being with MC. And there’s no way he wouldn’t beg for MC not to leave him if he ever screwed up🤷‍♀️

4. Delicate

This ain't for the best

My reputation's never been worse, so

You must like me for me

Ethan stood by MC’s side throughout the Ethics hearing, when her reputation was completely smeared, and people only saw her as a patient murderer. He didn’t know about the sabotages, but he would’ve definitely supported her if he had known.

We can't make

Any promises now, can we, babe?

Commitment-phobia🙃

Sometimes I wonder when you sleep

Are you ever dreaming of me?

Sometimes when I look into your eyes

I pretend you're mine, all the damn time

They spent so much of time apart, not able to be with each other, so the least they could do was dream of being with each other all the time.

5. So It Goes (an underrated af bop)

What can I say... it’s a sex song, okay? Don’t make me go into the details😂 Just listen to the lyrics, and all will be clear.

6. Gorgeous (Tumblr won’t let me put any more links)

MC’s eternal anthem to Ethan.

Whisky on ice, Sunset and Vine

You've ruined my life, by not being mine

We all know Ethan loves Whiskey, and the second line? C’mon!

You're so gorgeous

I can't say anything to your face

'Cause look at your face

And I'm so furious

At you for making me feel this way

But, what can I say?

You're gorgeous

Ethan Ramsey is famous for two reasons. One: his smart brain, I guess😒 Two: HIS LOOKS!!! HE’S GORGEOUS, AND DON’T DENY IT.

And you should think about the consequence

Of you touching my hand in the darkened room (dark room, dark room)

Ah, the olden days of hand holding in the diagnostics office🥺

Ocean blue eyes looking in mine

I feel like I might sink and drown and die

No explanation required.

You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah

There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have

You are so gorgeous it makes me so mad

The wonderful will-they-won’t-they saga. The frustrating hot-and-cold behaviour. The ‘We can’t’, ‘It’s unethical’ and ‘It’s complicated’. MC deserves an award for her patience😓

7. King Of My Heart

I'm perfectly fine, I live on my own

I made up on my mind, I'm better off bein' alone

Ethan ‘I don’t believe in soulmates and nobody’s waiting at home’ Ramsey.

And all at once, you are the one I have been waiting for

King of my heart, body and soul, ooh whoa

And all at once, you are all I want, I'll never let you go

King of my heart, body and soul, ooh whoa

This could be from both Ethan and MC’s perspectives. The love they share isn’t something that you get easily. It’s something that MC has waited for her whole life, and something Ethan never knew he needed, but now can’t live without🥺

Late in the night, the city's asleep

Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep

Change my priorities

The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury

This was definitely Ethan throughout book 2, after he finally gave in. He let go of his previous rules and regulations, especially during the time of the attack. He was clearly affected, and once MC was alright, his main priority was her, and her alone.

Is the end of all the endings?

My broken bones are mending

With all these nights we're spending

Ethan’s been burnt a lot in the past. But all those wounds are now healing thanks to MC.

Up on the roof with a school girl crush

Drinking beer out of plastic cups

They act like lovesick teenagers around each other, like, that’s literally their description if you choose to kiss Ethan for the first time in Chapter 14 of book 2!😅

Say you fancy me, not fancy stuff

Baby, all at once, this is enough

We all know about his initial fear of his mother reaching out to him for the sake of his money. To him, MC not talking advantage of him is a pretty big deal, even though it’s never mentioned. You just know, you know?🥺

8. Dancing With Our Hands Tied

My, my love had been frozen

Deep blue, but you painted me golden

Again, Ethan doesn’t have the best experience with love. But MC changed that.

I'm a mess, but I'm the mess that you wanted

This could go both ways, cause they’re both piping hot messes😬 (but love each other anyway🥺)

The rest of this song could have made so much more sense for them if we had gotten some sort of a secret relationship storyline. But oh well, I’m definitely not complaining about the gala😌 (and definitely not believing any of the supposed cancelled storylines)

9. Dress

Our secret moments

In a crowded room

They got no idea

About me and you

I mean... pretty obvious😌

Even in my worst times, you could see the best of me

And I woke up just in time

Now I wake up by your side

My one and only, my lifeline

This is practically Ethan’s train of thought, and you can’t convince me otherwise.

As for the rest of the steamier lyrics... I’ll um... let you guys listen to it yourselves😁

10. Call It What You Want

I wrote an entire fic inspired by this song, so excuse me for the shameless self-promo, but go give it a read?🥺👉👈(totally fine if you don’t! I’ve probably made so many posts about this song that y’all know the meaning anyway😅)

11. New Years Day

Don't read the last page

But I stay when you're lost and I'm scared and you're turning away

I want your midnights

But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

MC has always stayed by Ethan’s side, even when he’s pushed her away. These lines perfectly explain how she wants his worst times, and his best, the midnights they spend staying up together, and the moments where it’s just the two of them, when everyone else has left, like the aftermath of a New Years party (still mad at the fact that we didn’t get to see the gang celebrate New Year together😭)

I'll be there if you're the toast of the town babe

Or if you strike out and you're crawling home

The above explanation for these lines as well.

Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere

Becoming strangers to each other would be their worst nightmares. Knowing that the other was out there in the world somewhere, but not being in their lives would kill them.

You and me forevermore

These two are each other’s soulmate, they know it, even if they haven’t said it yet. Forever wouldn’t be enough for them to shower each other with they love they hold for each other. But it’s a good start.

——————————

If you guys made it this far, then I honestly love you more than words can ever express🥺💙 Thanks for putting up with my Swiftie-Directioner-Ethan stan ass, cause I dunno if I’d ever be able to handle someone like myself. And if you read all the above stuff, then I hope you wanna know why this album means so much to me.

Reputation is perceived as a dark album, when in reality it’s truly about finding love amongst all the noise. This album, and Taylor and Joe’s story, taught me what true love actually is, and Ethan and MC cemented that. This album and these two couples (quite literally) saved my life.

The most beautiful part about both these relationships is that even though they never showed it openly, for the sake of their relationships, both Ethan(in the story) and Joe stood by the side of the one’s they loved, despite half of the people who they knew hating on them, or betraying them. And I think that’s what’s truly important. Forming a true relationship like that, be it platonic or romantic, is long lasting, and I hope everyone finds those kind of people to fill their hearts with. Sending much love, and sorry for being a huge sap😅💙

Tagging a couple of my Swiftie homies: @swiftlydarcy @nikki-2406 @dxnicaramsey @kaavyaethanramsey @caseyvalentineramsey @drariellevalentine @justanotherrookie

#open heart #open heart second year #dr ethan ramsey x mc #ethan jonah ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #mercy goes nuts #happy three years of Reputation🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤 #ethan ramsey

[7ella7]

Choosing submission.

My husband and I have been married for over 10 years.  We got together as teenagers and there’s a lot of love there, but it hasn’t been easy.  We semi-recently had a few fresh-start moments.  A cross-country move, some extremely beneficial marriage counseling, and a pandemic to bring us into the same space 24/7, and all three have been awesome. (I’m not saying the pandemic is awesome, just the extra time we get to spend together.)  

I recently got super vulnerable with him and shared that I want to submit to him.  I’ve always kind of known that I’ve been drawn to the idea of being subject to a man.  I like the idea of being told what to do, how he wants things done, when he wants things done, and being expected to meet his expectations or accept the consequences.  It would help me to know and understand what he wants/needs as well as give me some additional structure.  There are so many things I find appealing about this, but I don’t really understand why/where it comes from, but hopefully over time I’ll be able to understand it better myself.

I told him 2 weeks ago.  We’d been talking about our sex life and how to begin to really re-engage in that relationship aspect with one another after some challenges we’ve had.  I was reading some things online and eventually came across a podcast called Over The Knee and the tumblr pages of @amysubmits and @cynicaldom (Thank you both so much for writing).  It was like a lightbulb went off.  I’d read about domestic discipline before, years ago, and we had tried it for a couple months after we had gotten married, but the way I tried to live submission caused problems in our dynamic.  What I didn’t get from the DD sites back then was that it was okay (or necessary even) to still have my own thoughts/opinions/wants and to express them.  I think I was trying to focus only on what my husband needed/wanted, and push down I wanted/needed.  It seemed at the time like me sharing my wants/needs with him would somehow make my submission less real.  Then, when I listened to the OTK podcast and read their tumblr pages a couple weeks ago, I felt like I understood so much better how a real couple could actually do it successfully and showed me that a submissive partner is not the same a passive partner who lets the relationship and the Dominant partner’s wants and needs be the only thing that exists between them.  It’s a full relationship with active involvement and communication on both sides, but with a power exchange component.  They both make a point about how important it is for him to have that information from her.

It had been over 10 years since we had tried domestic discipline before.  The whole dynamic just kind of fizzled out pretty quickly due to the issues with how we tried to go about it.  We hadn’t talked about it since.  I was so nervous to talk about the idea of trying again that I started the convo through text message.  I sent the text, but we were both in the same room, so I went to clean something in the bathroom so I wouldn’t have to look him in the eye when he read it.  I built up my courage and went back in, but he was still watching TV.  He’d turned his phone on silent and didn’t get it for another hour and a half (it was low-key torture).  I would alternate between different tasks and watching TV with him, trying to relax about it, but feeling like that paragraph of a text message put so much of me out there that made it difficult to even breathe normally at certain points.  I was scared that he wouldn’t be interested at all and that it’d be shut down, but more than that, I was scared that he’d think I was weird and ultimately shut me down, not because he would be cruel about it, but because it had taken so much to be that vulnerable.  It could have been crushing.  I have a really hard time opening up about things like this, and I’m more than a little shy about things that tie into my sexuality.  Yes, even with my husband.  However, marriage counseling and a recent book I read have helped me to be able to make some important moves toward embracing vulnerability.

When he did get the message, he started by reading the tumblr pages, and we listened to an episode of their podcast.  When we talked about it later that afternoon, he actually said he liked a lot of the basic ideas, but he had a lot of questions for me about why, what motivations I had, what I ultimately wanted from the dynamic, etc.  It was a start.  We’ve had maybe 3-4 conversations about it in the last couple weeks, and yesterday we started discussing an initial agreement.  When I asked him what areas of our life he’d like to have authority in, he said he’d like to eventually have my submission in everything.  (It made my heart happy.)  The main things we discussed which areas of our life I’m ready to submit in fully (home life, sex life), and a couple that I am not ready to hand over yet (work life, food, clothes).  We’re trying to be intentional and start slow so we can kind of grow into this.  We also discussed a few rules and expectations that we’re interested in starting with.  We have plenty of ideas, but are starting slowly with 1-3 rules.  I haven’t seen the agreement yet, he’s in the process of writing it up (which also made me happy because he’s taking ownership of some of the process already).  So I wait.  I feel excited and happy and nervous and fluttery and tingly a lot lately.  We’re just at the beginning and we haven’t even officially entered an agreement, but I wanted to catch these events and feelings before we move further into the journey.

There’s like a million more things I could write, but here’s the bullet list for brevity’s sake- and maybe I’ll be able to revisit and expand on some of this later:

I am feeling nervous about diving in- I feel like I’ve wanted this for so long, but what happens if I’m a horrible submissive or really struggle with my stubbornness when it comes time to show my submission through my actions?

I have a markedly higher sex drive than I’ve had in years- I feel like I have the biggest crush on my husband.

Also, somehow while I’ve routinely hated doing things like dishes for the past... well forever I guess.  But when I think about doing them for him, it turns me on a little bit.  Idk if that’s a thing that lasts, but I would love it if that sticks around, haha.

I wonder about how he really feels about everything.  I know he LOVES the idea of traditional gender roles and he’s been clear about that for a long time, but I’m not sure where he falls on the idea of providing discipline.  Is that something he could end up eventually liking?  Maybe not the actual punishment itself, but the effects of it?  Idk.

I wonder how we’ll do- will we be able to avoid some of the problems we had in the beginning by being open communicators even when it’s hard?  Will he stay consistent with me?  Will we both feel the dynamic and value it enough to keep working on it over time?

I worry about being the spouse that brought it up.  I don’t want him to feel like he has to do this.  There are definitely things in his makeup that make me think he’ll be a natural.  I was drawn to him even in high school because he is a good and traditional man.  We share a lot of the same values.  I know a lot of his views align perfectly with this dynamic, but it’s asking a lot of someone to take on that Dominant role.  I just hope that he will find fulfillment there for himself, because I couldn’t continue to ask him to do it if it’s not something he decides on his own that he wants.

I am super happy that I found Tumblr and so many awesome blogs where people have shared so openly what their dynamic looks like.  It’s a great help to feel like there are others out there.

8 June 2020

#domestic discipline #24/7 d/s #d/s marriage #d/s couple #d/s #vanilla to d/s #starting out #7ella7

[pocket-luv101]

His Lighthouse || Part 2

Fandom: Servamp Ship: KuroMahi (Fem Mahiru) Characters: Kuro, Mahiru

Summary: After Mahiru’s uncle goes missing, she searches London for him. She meets Kuro and she asks him to help her investigate the disappearance. (KuroMahi, Fem Mahiru)

Part 1 || (Part 2) || Part 3

“This is everything I’ve found in my uncle’s office. He has been recording the suspicious movements of the Noberu family. The last date of his report is the same night he went missing.” Mahiru told Kuro. After they finished eating breakfast, she took him to her uncle’s office. She had decided to trust him and asked him to help find her uncle. “If we follow this pattern, he likely disappeared while investigating this family! They must be connected. I’ve tried to continue his work but no one will speak with me.”

“The Noberu are a powerful family. Even if someone knew about their crimes, they wouldn’t want to speak out against them. It’s best to be cautious when inquiring about the family. Between their wealth and status, they’re dangerous.” Kuro’s words made her think of the man who chased them the previous night. She was certain that she would’ve been killed if Kuro hadn’t rescued her.

She had decided to search for her uncle alone because she didn’t want to endanger her friends. Mahiru glanced towards the photo of her mother and uncle. “My mother was a duchess but I know very little about high society. They seem like a complicated bunch with their fake smiles and secrets. It was naïve of me to investigate the family so openly, wasn’t it?”

“I only met you yesterday but you seem like the straightforward type.” Kuro spoke his thoughts out loud and he noticed the small frown that appeared on Mahiru’s lips. He added, “I don’t think that’s a bad thing. For a while, I worked with your uncle and he had a similar approach to you. People are more willing to speak with him than us.”

“I never imagined they would brush me off the way they did. It made me realize how sheltered I’ve been in my little lighthouse. I mainly speak with my friends and relatives through letters.” Her mother and uncle had raised her in the lighthouse and it held a lot of precious memories for Mahiru. At times, she wished that the lighthouse was closer to the city so she could visit her friends more often. Mahiru had many chances to leave but she decided to stay each time.

She focused on the investigation again and said, “You said you worked with my uncle. Was it for investigations similar to the Noberu family?”

“Not in a formal way. He needed something taken care of and he paid me to look into it.” Kuro’s explanation was vague and she could hear that there was more he didn’t tell her. She reasoned that he had his own reason for why he wanted to keep his work a secret. Her uncle also hid his investigation from their family for the sake of their safety.

“I’m sorry if that was a weird question to ask a man I only met recently. I was hoping that you’ll have experience with investigation and you could tell me the best place to search for clues.” Mahiru said. “You don’t have to tell me about your past work with my uncle unless you’re comfortable.”

“My clients would have my head if I tell you such sensitive information.” Kuro didn’t know how she would react if he told her that he was an assassin. She could lose her trust in him if she learned that the Noberu family had hired him to silence her. He hated being an assassin but it allowed him to provide for his family. He had seven younger siblings and they lived in poverty.

When the Noberu first approached him with the request to target a brunette noblewoman, he had refused. Kuro thought it was wrong to kill someone who was innocent. Yet, it was difficult to refuse a request from a powerful family who would target his siblings in retaliation. If he helped Mahiru, she would pay him and he could keep his siblings safe from the Noberu.

“Your uncle has been gone for a month without contacting you. You said that he would send you a letter once a week while he’s on his past investigations. How can you be certain that he’s still alive?” Kuro sat in a chair across from her and studied her expression. “I don’t want to ask this to be cruel but we should be realistic about this. I’ll help you finish your uncle’s investigation but I can’t promise we’ll find him alive.”

“He’s alive!” She yelled and she stared into his eyes. Her brown eyes were steady and they reflected the determination she felt. “My uncle left me this note. It said his co-workers would come to collect his files if something happens to him. Until they come with the news, I believe he’ll return home. Something is stopping him and I’ll be the one to save him.”

“You know him better than me so I’ll trust your opinion.” He agreed quicker than she expected. Her friend, Licht, would often tell her that it was difficult for her to gain the respect of the men in her field. Kuro was different from the others and Mahiru became curious about what kind of life he had. “You’ve managed to collect a surprising amount of information on Frankenstein Noberu.”

“I went to the library to gather these documents. It’s not as much as I wanted.” Mahiru said nonchalantly. Yet, Kuro thought she was intelligent and studious from the progress she made on her own. “This is all the scientific discoveries that they’ve made in the past three generations. They have been given numerous grants but that money shouldn’t be able to cover the cost of research and development.”

“I’ve never went to school so you’ll have to explain the math to me.” Kuro told her. He broke his gaze with her because most would judge him for being uneducated. His family couldn’t afford to send him to school and he needed to work at an early age to feed his family.

“They must be getting money from somewhere else and embezzling the money from their grants. There’s a chance they’re using cheap materials in their research as well.” Mahiru told him without a hint of condensation in her voice. “My uncle has been tracking their movements but he can’t go inside the house to see the details of their experiments.”

“He has the graveyard circled in his map. If that’s a place he had seen them visit frequently, it’s possible that they’re grave robbing to fund their experiments.” He suggested and she nodded in agreement. “Unfortunately, it’ll be impossible to catch them in the act. I doubt they would commit the crime themselves though. They will hire thieves to do the work for them.”

“The Noberu own a large estate but my uncle went through each building to locate the one they would use for experiments.” Mahiru spread out the map between them and pointed to the notes her uncle made on each building. “This one has a basement and it’s far from the main gate. This is the best place to have a secret lab. We should break in to see if they have keepsakes they stole from the dead.”

“Did your uncle draw a map to a secret passage we could use to sneak inside? Otherwise, we’ll be caught easily and arrested. They’re a powerful family and they can bribe the judge to have us locked away.” Kuro pointed out. The sadness in her eyes answered him even before she shook her head. He took the map and folded it before he placed it in his pocket. “I’ll try to find a way inside.”

“Are you planning to investigate that house on your own? My uncle did that and they likely have him captured somewhere in that building.” She jumped to her feet to stop him from leaving. “Thinking simply, we need to work together to find a safe way inside. I already have a plan.”

Mahiru returned to the desk to take out an invitation from the drawer. “I was speaking with others to find a way to enter the Noberu’s manor. They’re holding a masquerade ball and we can use it to sneak in. I still have a few of my mother’s ballgowns that I can wear to disguise myself. You can accompany me as my guard.”

“You’ve thought this out.” Kuro took the invitation from her and studied the font. He wondered whether she would’ve gone to the ball by herself if they hadn’t met. Then again, he already knew that she was recklessly brave. She had pulled them into the river to escape the gun. “I’ll go with you but I’ll drag you out of that house the moment it becomes dangerous. Your uncle made me promise to protect you.”

“I doubted he expected the situation to be this dangerous when he asked that of you.” She recalled the events of the previous night and hugged herself. “That man with the gun would’ve killed me. Do you think there’s a chance that he could find us after we fell into the river? It has been a day and he hasn’t come for us yet. But…”

“Are you scared?” He asked. She didn’t answer him but he knew anyone would be afraid in her situation. Mahiru lived alone in the lighthouse as well. Kuro didn’t understand why he felt a little protective when he saw her loneliness. “Do you want me to stay here in case he comes? I can protect you.”

His offer surprised her but her face quickly softened. “Thank you, Kuro.”

The couch was comfortable and warm compared to the hay cots Kuro usually used yet he couldn’t sleep. With his past, he had trouble relaxing in an unfamiliar place. He turned on his side and stared at the door. Mahiru had insisted he sleep in her uncle’s room but he thought it was better to stay in the living room. He could hear an intruder enter the lighthouse if he slept on the couch.

Footsteps caught his attention and he instinctively gripped the knife hidden under his pillow. Kuro realized that the sound came from the stairs and he knew that it was likely Mahiru. The scent of roses filled the room and he relaxed slightly. He didn’t want her to lecture him about sleeping on the couch so he closed his eyes and feigned sleep.

Mahiru’s footsteps stopped next to him and he didn’t know what she intended to do. He felt something warm draped over him and he guessed that it was a blanket. Her hand brushed over his cheek and his heart quickened for a few beats. He knew that the light touch was unintentional so he had to question why it had an effect on him. She whispered under her breath: “If you’re going to sleep here, you should cover yourself properly. You’ll catch a cold at this rate.”

She leaned away from him and left the room. Kuro waited until he heard the creak of the steel staircase before he opened his eyes. Before she disappeared up the staircase, he caught a glimpse of her lonely expression. Kuro had never met a woman like Mahiru before. She was brave and genuinely cared for her family. He sat up and patted the warm blanket that she had put over him.

Her footsteps continued far past the living quarters of the lighthouse and he wondered if she intended to go through the files on the Noberu again. He decided to go help her and he rolled off the couch. “You lectured me about sleeping properly but you’re the one who’s staying up late with troublesome work.”

As he climbed the staircase, he glanced out the window to the cliffside next to the lighthouse. Between the bright light of the lighthouse and the waves crashing against the cliff, he didn’t know how someone was able to have a peaceful sleep. He reached the office and he was confused to find the room empty. Kuro didn’t know where else Mahiru would go inside the tall building.

Her sad frown appeared in his mind. There would be a lot on her mind after the stressful events of the past week. As strong as Mahiru was, she was a normal woman. He debated whether he should speak with her or if it would be better to leave her alone. Kuro didn’t know her well and he had never comforted someone outside of his family.

Before he decided what to do, he found himself climbing the stairs. Kuro reached the top of the lighthouse and pushed open the trap door. A warm breeze hit him as he stepped out onto the balcony connected to the lantern room. The heat was likely created by the large lamp spinning slowly. He scanned the balcony for Mahiru and he spotted her sitting on the roof of the little house.

“How did you get up there?” Kuro wondered aloud and his voice drew Mahiru’s attention. She thought that he was sleeping on the couch. She carefully moved to the edge of the roof and looked down at him. The glow of the lamp illuminated his face and highlighted his strong features.

“The light will burn your eyes and turn you blind if you continue to stand there.” Mahiru warned and gave him a reassuring smile. She was bathed in both the light of the moon and the lighthouse and he thought she was surrounded by liquid fire for a moment. She didn’t seem to notice him staring because she casually pointed to a ladder. “You don’t have to worry about me falling and hurting myself. There’s a ladder on the south side of the lantern room.”

“Do you want to be alone?” He whispered the question but it tugged on Mahiru’s heart. Silently, she shook her head. Kuro had called her strong and she was worried that he would change his opinion if he learned that she was scared. He climbed the ladder she pointed to and walked across the flat roof to sit beside her.

He didn’t want to pressure her if she felt uncomfortable speaking with him so he stayed silent. Among the quiet, his beating heart sounded like thunder. They stared at the stars above them and he listened to her soft breathing. While they sat far above the world, the vast sky made him feel small. The view in front of them was stunning but his focus was on Mahiru.

She slowly moved to hug her legs against her chest and curl into a ball. He hadn’t realized how small she was until that moment. Mahiru turned away from the stars to face Kuro. “The previous lightkeepers installed the ladder to remove bird nests from the roof but I like to sit up here to watch the stars. My uncle would teach me about the different constellations. You might call me a silly girl but I also thought he was a superhero for knowing so much.”

“I used to read books to my siblings.” He said and she tilted her head slightly at his words. Kuro could feel her brown eyes on him. “In those stories, the heroes will always come home to their family. Heroes have a troublesome habit of waiting until the last moment to save the day in a big reveal. It makes for an interesting story but their family is left behind to worry. You should lecture your uncle about that when he comes back.”

“I will.” Mahiru nodded with a warm laugh. Her heart felt lighter after he spoke with her and she was glad that he offered to stay with her. She knew he only wanted to protect her but he had done so much more for her. “Will your siblings mind that I’m taking so much of your time?”

“They’re already grown with their own lives. Also, my work often keeps me away from home for long periods of time and they’re used to it. They trust me to return home.” Kuro took off his jacket and placed it around Mahiru’s shoulders. She wasn’t cold but she held the jacket around her. “I’ve stared at the stars all my life but I don’t know much about them. Can you tell me what you know?”

“Well, there’s the North Star. You can see it no matter where you are.” Mahiru told him and pointed to the sky. He squinted into the vast collections of stars and he struggled to see which one she pointed to. Kuro didn’t expect her to move closer to him until her arm brushed against his. She sat close to him so their eye line would be the same and she placed her finger beneath the star. “See it yet?”

“I think so,” He said. Kuro was certain that they were so close that their lips would brush together if he turned to face her. She learned away from him and he didn’t know if he felt disappointed or relieved. Mahiru didn’t seem to notice as she continued to name the constellations in the sky. She wore a smile that would light the night better than the lighthouse they sat on.

#servamp #kuromahi #sloth pair #servamp kuro #mahiru shirota #fanfiction #fem mahiru

[loki-godofmischief-myking]

Remnant Daughter

Loki x Deceased!Reader x Daughter OC

Loki loved you. There was no one else he loved more than you. The day you died he resolved to protect that love that had resulted in a daughter. She was a perfect reminder of you, one he would preserve. No harm would ever come to her so long as he lived. 

Warning: None really. Just note that here Loki never tried taking over Midgard. When he found out his Jotun heritage he didn’t resent Odin and Frigga, rather thanked them for his upbringing.

“Loki-”

Loki tossed and turned in his bed as he heard his name being called out. The voice was meek and full of desperation. His skin began to turn blue as his mind took him back to the day he lost you.

Your lower body shook and trembled as you had yet to recover from delivering your baby daughter. One hand kept you stable along the cold cavern walls as the other held your newborn close to your chest. 

A cold huff of air escaped you as you got closer to the cavern’s opening where you could hear your husband fending off the intruders.

Unfortunately, your pregnancy had not been easy. Only Jotunheim housed the climate appropriate for your half-Jotun daughter. You were near death when you arrived, your skin burning to the touch. Only Loki was able to handle your feverish skin long enough to get you to where you had to be. 

After finding out his true parentage Loki remained in Asgard- where his beloved was. All for you, he gave up his line to the throne letting it go to Laufey’s other son. A son who hated Loki’s very existence.

When he had gotten word of his being within the realm he sent for him. That is when they caught wind of his reason for coming back. Laufeyson ordered your child be taken and killed to honor his father’s wish that would have seen Loki dead in the first place.

Loki would never allow any harm upon his child. A child you had desperately wanted in order to complete the vision of a perfect family you always painted for him. 

In full Jotun form, Loki growled, “Leave while I allow it.”

The Jotuns towered over him still, not backing down after being given strict orders from their king. 

“Loki,” you happily sighed as you saw your husband was unharmed.

Loki’s chest constricted once he heard the sweet sound of your voice. Only in his sleep could he accurately recall how truly beautiful a sound it was.

Without a moment to spare you had your free arm wrapped around him as your daughter was warmly nestled between you. “Thank Norns you are safe.”

He returned your embrace kissing the top of your head before tucking it under his chin. “You should not be out here, it is not safe. He will send others.”

“How can I remain hidden and do nothing when you are outnumbered? I am your wife, I will forever stand by your side.”

Loki’s chest rose and fell rapidly as he desperately tried to will himself awake knowing very well what came next. But his efforts were fruitless as his mind made him relive the most traumatic moment of his life. 

"Choose, your wife or your daughter?” 

“Don’t you dare harm her!” 

Laufeyson inched his ax closer to your neck when Loki took a step towards him, making you feel the sharp edge against your rapidly cooling skin. He had stripped you of the warm fur-lined coat that had kept your body temperature stable in the harsh cold of the realm. The thin Asgardian dress did little to shield you from the sharp winds. Hypothermia would soon claim you who was not built for such an environment. 

Loki tried to keep from showing how horrified he was by the decision. He could see the fear in your eyes, the paling of your skin, and the soft whimpering of his newborn which he held in his arms. It was impossible to choose. 

He could never hand over his daughter and yet he could not fathom the idea of returning to Asgard without you.

“Daddy~”

“Choose!”

“L-loki,” you shivered. “Please take her and go,” you begged him through teary eyes. Of course, you did not want to die but you would give your life for his and hers. You wanted nothing more than their happiness.

“I can’t-”

“Please just...” you knew Loki would never make the decision. You knew you had to make it for him.

His eyes widened as he saw your hand discreetly pull a dagger out of your sleeve as you wordlessly mouthed your final confession of love for him.

Loki’s eyes shot open when small hands began to hit his chest repeatedly. His ragged breathing came to a halt when he saw the look of concern on his five-year-old daughter.

“Kari, what are you doing here?”

“I could not sleep.” 

Her bright red eyes examined his expression knowing very well that this was the case for him as well. Unlike Loki, she had no control over her eyes as they remained her natural Jotun red but lacked the sheer darkness behind them. There was a gleam that illuminated them, undeniably inherited from you. That very same gleam that had gotten him to notice you when he had been surrounded by women who only sought him for his title.

“You were having a bad dream Daddy.” In an effort to comfort her father Kari wrapped her little arms around his torso laying her head against his chest. “Was it about Mommy?”

As he looked down at her he could not help but remember the way you would cling to him begging him to stay with you a moment longer instead of going about his duties. If he knew then how limited his time with you would be... he would have fulfilled your every wish. Now all he could do was regret. 

“It was,” he responded by putting his own arms around her and kissing the top of her head. 

Kari immediately looked up giving him a look of sorrow. “Daddy,” her eyes silently apologized for your absence. “Mommy isn’t here but I am. Kari will always be here for you.”

The heart-wrenching words of his concerned daughter had Loki smiling. He tucked her in with a light-hearted chuckle to show he had been relieved of his lamentations. 

Once again she was his strength. 

“I know my dear.”

He would live to protect this last remnant of you.

\\\

“If you have already finished the reading then perhaps it is time we introduce you to more complex literature.”

Kari sighed as she followed behind her grandfather’s advisor. He was a tutor to her when it came to diplomacy. As a princess Kari was expected to learn everything there was to be known about all the realms. 

“Here,” the elder man handed her a rather large and heavy book. “This will be of use to you. I remember when I first read it. I was much younger then.”

“The reason I read so quickly is to rid myself of my duties. Had I known this was going to happen I would have dozed off longer.”

“Princess you have been gifted with a mind like no other.” He smiled at the young girl showing he meant well. “Your mother read her way through this library. She was always searching always wondering, a true scholar. Your father and mother were different in every sense. This was the only place they ever crossed paths.”

“So I hear... but I’m not nearly as interested in dusty old books.” She was an eight-year-old girl who wished to have fun with the other children. Until now she had been urged from one lesson to another. Diplomacy, etiquette, magic, archery, economics, language, astrology, and worst of all- math. But it mattered not what task they put in front of her. The young girl was incredibly talented with unmatched intelligence and natural charisma. 

“I want to have fun.”

So much so that at times everyone was thankful Loki was so strict on her.

“What would your Highness consider fun?”

Kari shrugged, fun was never something she strived for. Only recently had the word come about after she heard the other noble children raving about how they spent their days riding horses to a secret waterfall the adults knew not of. And through books, she learned the most fun realm of all was Midgard.

“I would like to go to another realm.”

“Another realm?”

The little girl nodded, “I wish to see things for myself rather than read someone else’s account.” Her eyes trained themselves on the rainbow bridge which she could make out in the distance from the window. “Someday I will travel and become master of all realms.”

“How ambitious of you little one.”

Kari beamed as she heard her grandmother’s voice. 

“Queen Frigga,” the advisor gave a curt bow of his head which she acknowledged. At the same time, he was relieved of his duties as Kari’s tutor to be turned over to her. He left the royals with a cautionary warning to the young one that she should not overlook the wisdom of old dusty books.

Being in the presence of her grandmother Kari knew she could relax, evident by the way she rid herself of the glamour spell she had perfected to conceal her bright red eyes with beautiful gold irises. Although beautiful she much rather preferred that which made her different. 

“Much better,” she exhaled contently.

Frigga smiled, “My...what a beautiful granddaughter I have been bestowed.” Her hand gently prodded Kari’s chin to tilt her head up so she could meet her eyes. 

The compliment immediately gained Kari’s laughter. “You always say that...”

“And I always mean it.”

The little girl’s smile reached her eyes only to be withdrawn when she heard the familiar grumbling of her grandfather. “Kari!” He sternly called her name, not a fan of her openly displaying her Jotun heritage. 

Immediately she hid her eyes from view. 

“What have I told you?”

Kari sighed, the lecture had been engraved in her memory. “That I must adapt to what Asgard expects of me... and what they expect is a well-mannered, well-bred Asgardian princess.”

The rest of Asgard knew not of Loki’s lineage. For his sake and now for Kari’s sake, Odin had them conceal their Jotun attributes in order to keep any from questioning Loki as a prince of Asgard. This was helped by the fact that you, a sensible young woman from a noble family took an interest in his son. You hid the truth well even from your own family who to this day believe you had died of complications during childbirth. 

They never approved of your relationship with Loki, in turn, they despised Kari for causing your premature death. 

This was something Kari had no knowledge of. Loki made sure her life was nothing but positive. If ever an inconvenience arose he would deal with it. Therefore your family no longer resided in Asgard. 

“Do not be so hard on her, she is only a child.”

Odin sighed knowing there was truth to Frigga’s statement but he was only looking out for his granddaughter. He truly cared for her. He had to ensure her future as a princess of Asgard. “She is the firstborn princess of Asgard. It is a title she must not take lightly.”

Loki appeared as if out of nowhere, his hands behind his back as he sported a playful smirk. “I really do wish Thor would just marry and give you other grandchildren to torment.” 

He was grateful for Odin taking him in but knew all his life he had been at a disadvantage with Thor who was a blood son. He knew once his brother had children Odin would turn his attentions to them the future Kings or Queens of Asgard. 

“Loki!” Frigga warned her youngest son to watch what he said, especially in front of Kari.

“Daddy,” Kari ran into her father’s arms happy to see he was back. Her arms latched around his neck as she rested her head on his shoulder. “I missed you.”

“And I missed you, my little one.” One arm carried her weight while the other hand gave her full head of silk-like hair a pat. 

Odin remained silent not justifying himself to Loki. He had his reasons for doing things the way he did just as Loki had his.

Thor soon appeared as well having been left behind by his brother. 

“Uncle Thor,” one hand reached out to him wanting to also greet him but not enough to let go of her father. 

“Kari, my sweet princess.” He smiled brightly at the affectionate scene before him of his niece latching onto his brother. Never had he seen him so openly display affection before Kari’s birth. Even with you, he seemed to hide his attraction making others question the validity of your relationship at one point. He reached out to hold her hand in his and kissed the top. “I hope you have behaved yourself while we were gone.”

“Of course she has.” “Of course I have.” Father and daughter simultaneously respond.

“Then I suppose we can bestow you with the gift we have brought.”

Kari’s eyes lit up. “A gift!”

The entire royal family had trekked out into the stables where Kari’s gift lay in wait. A gift that was actually not from her uncle or father. 

A crowd of people was gathered in awe at the gift. For many this was a new creature for others it was a memory of the past for there had been many in Asgard until they went extinct. They waited to hear how the creature had ended up here.

“Alfheim has gifted one of their precious unicorns to the firstborn princess of Asgard.”

Kari gasped seeing the white unicorn that stood as a stark contrast to the surrounding horses. The unicorn’s distinct horn was incredibly long and shiny, when the light caught it there seemed to be an iridescent shine like opal or pearl. The mane was hard to describe in one word. It was white but somewhere in between, it seemed to give a hint of blue shine. One thing was for sure, the mane was long and silky in the way each strand fell perfectly back in place. 

“Is it really for me?” She held her father’s hand tight with giddiness. 

Loki was not fond of the idea of his daughter riding but had to admit defeat at the happiness she was radiating. “If you promise to behave and take lessons before attempting to ride him-” 

“Him, hmmm...” The young girl tapped her chin in her pursuit of a suitable name for her beautiful new companion. Her hand slipped out of her father’s to approach the magical looking creature. That is how she was able to see the sporadic deep blue streaks of hair that were outnumbered by the white. “Azure,” she spoke mostly to herself yet to the unicorn. “Did you know there are hundreds of words for the color blue. There are many languages and dialects each with their own word.” Her hand gently ran through the ends of his mane, the only part she could reach. “You look more like an Azure.”

“What a lovely name my dear,” Frigga beamed seeing how her spirit had been lifted after being reprimanded by Odin.

“Yes, but what good is a horse you can not ride.” Thor, the ever fun-loving uncle that he was, went against his brother’s wishes and lifted his niece up onto the unicorn’s back.

“It is not your ordinary horse you oaf!” Loki scolded. His brother knew not of a unicorn’s differing mannerisms and personalities to horses. They were far more gentle creatures with the temper of a bull and the charge of a rhino only far more dangerous with that sharp horn of theirs. 

Kari was fighting with her urge to go along with her uncle or listen to her father’s demand for her to get off.

“Come now brother, nothing will happen. Let our young princess have some fun, Odin knows you did when you were younger.” With that Thor mounted Azure keeping his niece safely between his arms as he took the reigns. 

To Loki’s surprise, Azure listened to Thor entertaining them with a steady gallop.

Odin’s lips seemed to curl up into a brief smile that only Frigga caught before he retired back into the palace.  She brought her hand onto her son’s shoulder assuring him there was no harm.

Loki’s worries were only put to rest by Kari’s laughter. His daughter’s quick liking to the animal reminded him of you.

Loki smirked using your lack of agility to his advantage as he stole your current interest right out of your hands. He held the book above your reach to examine it. “What has my love so interested in Alfheim?”

Your brow furrowed in discontent, “It is none of your concern-”

“If you wish to visit you only need say so.”

The book was handed back to you allowing you something to grasp while you remind him of your situation. “You already know that is impossible when all of Asgard is watching us.”

You had married Loki only a few months ago and were determined to do everything in your power to earn your place. There were still too many who did not acknowledge your marriage to Loki simply because they thought Thor should be first to marry. 

“You worry too much.”

“Do I?”

Loki nodded, “Now tell me why Alfheim?”

“Unicorns.”

“Unicorns,” Loki eyed you with skepticism. “A realm known for its magical knowledge, nature, music... and you simply want to see a horned horse?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Unicorns are said to be magical creatures. The alicorn being the source of their magical and medicinal properties.”

Loki recalled watching you flip through books as you animatedly recounted your research on the rare creature. He could only imagine you would smile just as brightly upon the unicorn’s arrival.

Kari interrupted his thoughts when she came running to him. “Did you see me?”

“You were wonderful my little one.”

Although his lips were curled into a smile Kari could easily read her father. There was a certain look in his eyes, darkness, whenever he became saddened by the thought of you.

“I love you Daddy,” these four words were her magical tool against her father’s dark thoughts. She need only say it once for him to come back to his senses.

Loki truly smiled now, wonderfully surprised by his daughter’s sentiment. “I love you too.”

The young girl wondered if someday she could take her father’s pain away. She wanted him to be the fun mischievous person everyone always recalled in their stories of times before she was born. 

That night Kari would not go to bed no matter how many times her nursemaid tried to coax her. She relentlessly went on about waiting for her father to be done so he could tuck her in like when she was younger.

“Princess your father is very busy-”

“I can wait.”

“Please princess have mercy on me. Your father will be very displeased with me if I do not complete my tasks.” 

Kari had seen many nursemaids come and go throughout her short years. Each one having been replaced after Loki saw they were not fit to uphold his standards or if one got too attached to her. 

He did not wish for anyone to play the role of mother to Kari. His daughter already had a mother. 

“That is not my problem,” Kari crossed her arms over her chest standing firm. “I will do as I please until my father retires for the night.”

The nursemaid sighed unable to do anything but wait to be reprimanded and perhaps sent to another noble family to care for their children. 

Hours later Loki had yet to retire. 

Kari sleepily hung onto hope for a bit longer before going across the hall to his rooms in search of him. She pushed the heavy door to gain entrance into the silent chambers. 

She knew if she would just call out to him he would appear before her but this time around she was curious to know why he had not come to see her. That’s when she heard a muffled sound coming from his study, the door slightly ajar.

Loki sat back in his chair, a chalice of mulled wine in his hand while he faced the farthest wall where a portrait of you hung as the only decoration. It was commissioned post-mortem when he realized there were no portraits of only you. 

He concentrated greatly needing more time than usual to picture you in all your glory. Then in a second, you were standing before him in golden shine. It was an illusion he had created of you.

“It’s getting harder-” A knot in his throat stopped him mid-sentence. The thought of possibly forgetting you was more than he could handle. “Why can’t I summon you at will?”

The illusion of you stood still flickering slightly when he took a drink.

Lately, he could only remember you in your last moments of life. He found himself forgetting the finer details of your appearance and personality.

“I forget my love... did you like postmodern romanticism or was it transcendentalism?”

He took another drink and yet again you flickered.

Loki stared at the illusion he had made, judging the appearance. He always remembered that pale green dress you wore when he first noticed you. It fit you well, hugged all the right places and complimented your lustrous skin. Your hair and your face- he gripped the chalice trying to recall the color and feel.

The image that came to mind was much to generic for his liking... just like the portrait.

He stood up approaching the illusion and looked up at the portrait. 

“Sure it is beautiful,” he admitted. It resembled you but was it truly you. “No one can ever accurately capture you, my love.”

Kari’s eyes teared up when she heard how hard it was getting for her father to speak.

“And your voice...” 

“Loki,” the illusion called to him in your voice- or at least what he thought was your voice. “Loki, my love.”

“How I wish to hear it.” A tear finally found its way down Loki’s cheek as he resigned himself to the fact that even he couldn’t reproduce the sweet sound of your voice.

In his dreams, he heard it but it was always followed by your cries of pain.

“I love you Loki,” the illusion smiled with a tilt of its head in the same way you would every time you playfully professed your love to him.

When the chalice was empty Loki picked up the bottle and drank directly from it. The illusion flickered continuously until he had downed the entirety of it.

Kari stepped into the study now fully in tears from what she was seeing.

“Daddy...”

Loki quickly turned to see his daughter cautiously approaching him. “Kari-” he wanted to reprimand her for not being in bed but found it difficult when she was sorrowfully staring at his illusion of you.

Up until now, he had been careful not to do this in front of her. He knew it would be too much of an emotional trigger. He could hardly handle it himself. When he made a gesture to be rid of it Kari stopped him.

“Wait-” Her small hands reached out to him. Now it was she who compared the illusion to the portrait above. All she had ever seen was that portrait but never imagined her mother’s voice.

“C-can she-” she was almost afraid to ask. As if her father would deny her request. “Can she say my name?”

Loki inhaled sharply. His daughter’s request was difficult but not impossible.

“Kari~” the illusion called out effectively rendering the little girl motionless. This time Loki managed to envision your joyous expression upon his return from long trips. He had the illusion give a similar smile and say, “I love you Kari.”

“I love you too Mommy-”

The little girl’s lips trembled unable to stop herself from crying profusely. She had never met this woman yet she felt so strongly about her.

His daughter’s tears were sobering. Loki put down the bottle he had so viciously been gripping onto. He knelt down in front of his young daughter, the illusion now vanishing into nothing but golden specs of light. 

“Kari-”

"Daddy...” Kari’s small arms wrapped around her father as she continued to cry into his chest.

Loki held her silently. There was nothing he could say that would make her feel better. For years he had tried finding comfort from the neverending pain he felt after your loss. But nothing could ever fill the void you left behind.

At one point he damned you for making him fall in love with you. He damned the empty promises of forever. You dared entice him with the picture of eternal love and a family to cherish and call his own only to leave him behind.

But in the end, he knew it was all worth it. 

Loving you gave his life new meaning. 

Before you, he never imagined himself as a father and now he couldn’t imagine a life without his precious daughter. 

Kari found comfort in her father’s embrace although she didn’t care too much for the smell of alcohol on him. The gentle caress of her hair and the slight pressure atop her head of his lips seemed to coax her out of the mournful sorrow she was suddenly hurled into. 

Slowly the tears began to dry up and she was able to find her voice again.

“Daddy... Do you think- do you think she would have loved me?”

“She loved you before you were even born.”

“Really?” Kari looked up with swollen eyes and a runny nose.

Loki nodded, “She couldn’t wait to meet you.” 

He recalled your constant lack of interest in him as you worried over your growing belly.

“Do you think this is normal?” 

You continued to inspect your reflection in the mirror as you stood in front of it with only a towel wrapped around you. It had become a regular occurrence after your bath. Your hands were on your protruding belly but your eyes were on Loki as he approached you from behind.

Loki placed his hands on top of yours not really focusing on your question but on the way you had completely let your guard down. His lips found your bare shoulder to be much more important. 

“I doubt there is something I know that you do not my lovely wife.” His lips lightly trailed kisses up along your neck as he continued to whisper loving words into your ear. “But I do know I can hardly keep my hands off you when you are this enticing.”

“Forever the silver-tongued prince...”

“Forever the beautiful vixen who seduced this prince.”

You laughed, “Seriously Loki... do you think she is alright?”

“Do not worry, everything will be fine.”

"Even now she loves you...” 

“Really?” He nodded in affirmation but Kari was still unconvinced. 

Loki was always known for his lies but he dare not deceive his own daughter. You were a mother who gave her own life for her daughter. Although he couldn’t tell her this now, in the future she would know it.

She would know how you protected her.

She would know how much you loved her...how much you loved them.

She would know of your loving sacrifice.

“Trust me little one.”

-end-

A/N: Sorry for the long unexplained hiatus. In the meantime, I hope you accept this humble offering as an apology for my absence.

#loki scenarios #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson x y/n #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson x reader #loki odinson x you #Loki Odinson X Y/N #loki odinson #marvel scenarios #loki imagines #loki fan fiction #loki fanfic #loki fics #loki x reader scenarios

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Friday 22 May 1835

6 ¾

11 ½

 No kiss. Ready in an hour fine but dullish morning F54 ½° at 7 3/4 am  out with Robert Schofield and his man and in the walk till breakfast at 9 10 - some time talking to Marian till 10 ½ - then about 10 40 had Mr J. Critchby, Holt, and William Keighley about the Spiggs water drain (coal Loose) came to agree - staid till 11 - wanted to know on what terms I would agree to leave the drain open and what I had to say - I answered that I had nothing to say but if they made me any proposal I would consider about it -  I thought it however but right to tell them that the water was very valuable to me and I did not want to agree at all, but would rather have the water - they should have agreed when I first proposed it to them - I had employed Hinscliffe to settle the matter, and he could make nothing of them that now I was quite at liberty to do as I liked, and I had no terms to propose - the water would have been stopt before but for Mr James Holt - both he and the Manns declined saying anything about the value of the Loose - I understood the Spiggs company thought I should not stop because of preventing myself from bottoming Walker pit - but whatever this pit cost, it was not to be compared with the value of the water, and I should not care about the pit - I said it was the manner in which Mr Clarke had come to me about the Loose that 1st made me think of it - otherwise it might not have been thought of by me till now that I wanted the water - ill nature or the mere wish to stop the Spiggs colliery had nothing to do with  it - it was the water I wanted for my own use - they said Hinscliffe never proposed any express terms to them - Holt said I knew that my uncle really had received money for the drain - yes! said I but not the sum Mr Clarke said - however I said I had given them all the information about it I had myself - I had done everything as fairly as I could and could only say I was sorry for them especially for the Keighleys; but wondered that anybody should make purchases without looking into the title deeds - they ought to have known what they were buying - WK- then said it was a pity to loose all the rails and things in the drift - I asked how long it would take to get them out - answer a week - I said I by no means wished to cause any unnecessary waste of property - I should be very sorry to do this to anyone - I would speak to Holt (James) and see what could be done - I was very civil to them and several times expressed my sorrow at what had happened - they declined taking beer - wrote the above of today till 11 25 - out at 11 ½ sometime with Robert Schofield and his man at

 SH:7/ML/E/18/0039

  dry bridge drain - then sauntered along the Conery wood to Walker pit to ask Joseph Mann how long he thought it would take for the Spiggs company to get their rails and tools out of their works - mentioned having had William K- and his partner Holt - John Mann at a stand for the planks to stop the Spiggs water - so desired nothing more to be done till I had seen Holt of High Royde - said I had told K. and JCH. that I would mention the thing to Holt - did not wish any unnecessary waste of property - but knew the value of the water to me - whether they knew the value of the drain to the coal works or not - then sauntered in the Conery wood again and about till 2 ½ when Mr Bradley came - just saw him for a minute or 2 when A- called me - walked her past Mytholm - I had hardly got back when A- returned saying the Miss Rawsons Catherine and Delia were coming from Huddersfield - they arrived about 3 10 - sat with them near ½ hour and then left them to A- wrote the last 10 lines till 3 ¾ - then began a letter to M- had A- near ½ hour after her friends went at 4 - and had Joseph Mann a little while to ask for more sufficient blinders for the gin horse who took fright and jumped about again this afternoon - then till 6 5 when A- returned from Shut (spoke to Bancroft’s sister about the Sunday school) wrote 4 pages and 1 page ends of ½ sheet envelope to M-  written to inquire whether the parcel should be sent to Leamington or Lawton - Adney angry at my not writing sooner - ‘she had a note ready written for you - perhaps this was one reason of my delay - I did not like - perhaps did not know how - to say much, and yet, remembering your train of recent thought, I could not make up my mind to let the note be sent - I have therefore continued to let it slip out of date, and shall tell her, that, as I am writing and she is at this moment very busy, I will make her speech for her, and am sure you will lay all the blame on me - the fact is, her note was a very nice one, and I shall not tell you its purport half so prettily - but I know you better than she does, and I count upon your thanking me for keeping the office of scribe to myself - you may rely upon me now and always - for doing the best I can to give you all the comfort I can’ - then kind mention of Percy - not aware of feeling the indifference about her M-- charged me with - ‘my interest in the child was, and is, for your sake - I have seen too little of her to feel it for her own - but my inquiries after her might have been more unremitting without my real care about her being greater’ ...... as I do not know the additionally expensive plan proposed by Dr Magrath, can give no opinion but ‘Do not hesitate to call upon me, if necessary, for the whole of the balance I have in your favour, for, tho’ I have and shall have for some time to come, a very heavy outgo, yet I can answer your demands upon me, even should the notice be short’  - know not whether I shall be able to leave home for so long together as 3 or 4 weeks and almost fear the Welsh excursion must be in abeyance -.... ‘what will you say when  you hear that, after all my objections, our 2 chesnut ponies are mares! In all but this they are what we wanted - can we have everything we wish?’ - no time even talked of for our leaving home so M- to go on directing to me here - the parcel to be off tonight if Adney returns in time from Cliff Hill - ‘she has knitted you a pair of slippers which she hopes will fit you - she hoped more than this, but I shall merely add, that she is very much obliged for the so long loan of your drawing book; and we shall both of us be anxious to hear that the parcel safely reaches you I shall enclose one sovereign and one shilling, being the guinea bet I am indebted to Mr Lawton, in consequence of the so early breakup of the Peel administration - that Lord Melbourne’s may not last longer, seems more than probable.  I am not yet prepared to expect an openly avowed Radical administration ‘ - mention the Sunday school business, and say that ‘a steady, middle-aged, maid or widow, or married woman having a husband capable of teaching and free from troublesome children, is in request - the situation would be sufficiently worth taking - we have thought of making inquiries in York - can you help us in any way?........ Never think my dearest Mary, that you are absent from my mind or my affection - whoever laid the 1st stone of our friendship, I will try to keep the building in good repair - it shall not fall into decay for want of care or looking after - what do hear from Paris?’ I do not expect any émeute  of much importance - ask M- for her receipts for Seltzer water, mince-pies, and how to have always fresh butter and good cream - ask if she has replaced Mrs Duff and how Martha goes on - M- to tell me particularly of her own health, and, if she can, where they will take house - ......  ‘God bless you, my dearest Mary, under all possible circumstances - your unshaken confidence in my friendship and regard is always a comfort to me - Ever very faithfully and especially yours A Lister’ -  A- returned at 6 5 - dinner at 6 25 coffee - sometime with my father and Marian - came upstairs at 8 ¼ - read tonight’s London paper - 20 minutes with my aunt till 10 ¼ - then ½ hour wrote the above extract from my letter to M- fine day tho’ dull and threatening rain in the afternoon - a few drops about 3pm F57° at 10 ¼ pm - M- [A- ] made ready the parcel tonight, to go by John in the morning before breakfast - to ‘Mrs. Lawton, Lawton Hall, Lawton, Cheshire’ carriage paid - per mail 23 May 1835’

[miamonologues]

Females are strong as hell

Some lessons from Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt

This is a newly introduced series to me by my own Netflix algorithm and let me tell you, IT'S MY NEW FAVORITE ONE. I finished the series quickly because it was "unputdownable." I had to keep watching because the entertainment it provided served me well (it's practically my kind of humor). Despite being a comedy with a light-hearted ending, I kind of cried when it ended because, well, I had to keep going now with my own life. Back to boring paperwork and non-fiction reading. So instead of moping about it (and yes, I know I can just re-watch it again, but you and I know it'll feel different), I thought, why not list down SOME lessons I learned from its four main characters. I emphasized the word SOME because, believe me, you will learn so much more. Not just from the plot and these four characters but from the other characters that are unmentioned here. So here we go, what Kimmy, Titus, Jacqueline, and Lillian taught me.

What Kimmy taught me:

Kimmy taught me to not let your past define you, and being a late bloomer has a lot of advantages. Intentions are pure, ego untainted, and your presence becomes infectious. Sure, she may have missed a whole big chunk of her life, but she also realized how much she hasn't. The world will continue to evolve with or without us in it, so what's there to miss? We'll bloom just as much.

You will never do the world harm by choosing to be kind. It was always about helping people when it comes to Kimmy, which became one of her callings and ultimate purpose in life as the series escalated. While the people around her taught her that the world can be cruel sometimes, and we become accustomed to it, she chose to kill the cruelty with her unconditional kindness.

You can be tough without compromising your sweet and loving self. Kimmy had to learn the ins and outs of life's cycle. She may have suppressed her feelings and emotions at some point, but she knew that we're all entitled to all feelings. Which made her character very likable. Eventually, she learned anger, frustration, rage, and sadness. It wasn't always love and happiness, but she knew it was just part of our functioning.

Face your demons, but move forward while doing it. Trauma is not to be ignored by a person's past experiences. Even though Kimmy had trouble facing her past, she still did. But instead of staying in the past, she met it by saying, "yep, that's all that is. The past". It's not likely for someone like Kimmy to be at peace with her terrifying bunker past. Still, she is as the title says, unbreakable.

What Titus taught me:

He gave me a new light on how to view gay characters in a series. He is NOT your gay best friend, but an entire character and heroine that completes this show. An openly gay role in American entertainment is like a Hollywood Archetype for "sidekick/best friend to make serious and dark topics seem lighter and funny." Uhm, no. Titus is different. He is known for how unapologetic and opinionated he is. Making him a strong character that you should not be messing with.

He taught me to be expressive and passionate. It's not easy to in New York, a place to live your dreams and other people who chose it to live their dreams. Titus taught me to never compromise doing what you love for the sake of fortune and stability. Rent should've been taking notes.

He taught me to stay true and continue to pursue your ultimate dream. Despite his self-centered and lethargic temperament, he is authentic and resilient. His character improves in the series without compromising his beliefs and goals. Eventually, he got what he's always dreamed of. Along with Mikee, which btw, I STAN their relationship and I’ve been rooting for them since their first conversation.

What Jacqueline taught me:

She taught me to never forget to look back at where I came from. Like Kimmy, Jacqueline tried to forget and abandon her past. Although it wasn't because of trauma and suppressed emotions, Jacqueline became neglectful of her roots. After massive shifts in her life, she eventually decided to go back and embrace her family roots. Which provided not only her peace of mind but also to fulfill a purpose that is anchored towards her family's heritage. Throughout the rest of the series, we also see how she kept in touch with her family and how they have been supportive of her as she rebuilds her life.

She taught me that's it's okay to start again.  After several mishaps in her lavish lifestyle, Jacqueline realizes that she has much more worth than a trophy wife. Her character developed as much as well in the series. Dealing with divorce, being broke, and having no experience to start a career. She killed it anyways.

She taught me to learn how to unlearn. Coming from a wealthy and obnoxious lifestyle, Jacqueline had to keep up with her change of status, which made her humble herself and put others first. Whether it was for Kimmy or a random stranger. Even with how she tackled love and dating. In season 3, she fell in love with a man because of his compassion and care for the better (which she broke off eventually when that man became a narcissistic, self-serving being). Towards the end of the series, she questioned a man who was attracted to her. Pointing out that he should like her for who she is and not just for her looks. Kudos to Jacqueline for being able to do an easy job in starting all over again—and—being able to do it in style.

What Lillian taught me:

She taught me how to fight for what I believe in. With her unconventional ways and dispositions, Lillian was the more badass gal in the group with her continuous fight for anti-gentrification and preserving the neighborhood. Including its crime-filled community, kind-of-unhygienic but vintage establishments, and torn down structures and buildings (give it a break, it's an absurd comedy). Even though some of her character's dispositions are impractical, Lillian taught me to always fight for what I believe in. Even if our beliefs sound impractical, we have a voice. What better way to use that than to speak them out and who knows, maybe someone will listen and take action with you.

She taught me to not care about what others think of me. Like Titus, this is what Lillian has been throughout the series. True to herself. Even when she started dating a rich man, and Jacqueline insisted she had a makeover when she was about to meet his family, Lillian didn't comply. She liked who she is doesn't care what people think of her. In this new age of selfies and personal branding, caring what other people think has been mainstream since we got introduced to social media. We can't blame those who do care because the internet says so. So next time I find myself overthinking what others have to say about me, I'll think of Lillian.

Final thoughts:

First, to say that the series is relatable is a downplay. This series attacks topics through its characters about modern and mainstream problems about society. They tackle it absurdly and funnily, but still quite agreeable.

Second, you can learn a lot from these four characters, and it's unlikely that there is a character from these four that you will hate. Because once you watch it, you will admit to yourself that, at some point, you may have been like a Kimmy, Titus, Jacqueline, or Lillian in your life. And I don't just mean on their mistakes and blunders. Just the entirety of how they represent what their character stands for. Especially with how their characters develop as the series profressed. This series stays true because we are only humans who make mistakes just as much as we will make successes from these mistakes. It's the circle of life.

And lastly, it's pure comedic genius work that is woke and hella funny. Kudos to the creators of this show. It sucks that it only lasted 4 seasons. You will love joining these four people in their adventure through life. And I agree 1000% to the series' theme: Females are strong as hell.

P.S. I'm re-watching it again. Feel free to judge. And I love you, Tina Fey

#unbreakable kimmy schmidt #tina fey #kimmy schmidt #titus andromedon #netflix #comedy

[benlaksana]

Coming Home

If there is one constant emotional response that my mind and body has conjured since coming back to Indonesia, it is anger. The reasons are plentiful. Chronic social and economic injustice, growing government oppression, sheer incompetency of many government officials, religious conservatism, as the proverbial saying goes, the list goes on.

And now with the coronavirus devastatingly consuming Indonesia and my government’s response has not only been weak and slow, lacking in coordination, but also simply at many times blatantly incompetent, anti-science and anti-expertise, resulting in the deaths of many including doctors and nurses, and with no full lockdowns initiated, no mass testing, just some half-baked government encouragement to physical distancing and good hygiene. I’ve observed that this time not only am I consumed with fervent anger but at many times deep sadness and crippling fear. An unholy trinity. In the name of anger, sadness and lingering fear.

Here’s some trivia and personal info for you folks. Did you know that Tuberculosis (TB) usually leaves scars on lungs it once infected and even though it’s been decades since my bout with TB, my lungs today, as you might expect, are not in tip-top shape. So that’s my pre-existing condition that at times, at many times, throws me into a panic and into a sudden cleaning spree. Wipe here, wipe there, disinfect door knobs, drowning recently handled money in warm soapy water. Irrational fear? On the contrary my beautiful friends. Indonesia has one of the highest Covid death rates in the world and with Covid patients on the rise but not at its peak, our already sparse healthcare system is already showing its cracks. Again, just to remind you, Indonesia is not even near the peak and we’re not even doing massive tests but everything is already hanging on a thread. Adding to this misery, the lack of some kind of social safety net has this climate of dread creeping up on me, this I acknowledge and I am trying as much as I can in keeping this at bay. Dread induced paralysis is not something I can to endure at the moment.  

That’s some personal (slightly existential) rant right there.

But I understand that I’m lucky and painfully privileged to be able to work from home unlike so many others. So since at this moment my productivity rate is reaching zero and I’m basically pushing away work and other responsibilities as much as I can (which will probably come back and haunt me soon), let me just first reflect on life at the moment, updates on other things aside from this feeling of impending doom.

I’ve realized that I do not update this blog of mine as often as I would like to. Desires are kept as desires, and slowly wither away as desires. Yet as 2020 dawned on me and ages with uncertainty I spent my time re-reading old books that I have read many years ago and some of my old blog posts as well. Beginning with my first blog post which is now the ripe old age of 10 years old. One decade old. With the breakneck speed of change of today’s internet, 10 years is perhaps close to immortality in internet years. That being said, I still use Hotmail for my main email which I’ve had since 1998, the year I was introduced to the internet...and politics.

It was 13th of May 1998. I was at home with my dad as schools and offices were closed. The day before that soldiers opened fire at a student demonstration in front the University of Trisakti, Jakarta. Four students were killed, riots and demonstrations were happening everywhere the following day. So most people decided to stay home.

I remember my dad narrating the 1998 May protests as we attentively watched the event unravel through our old school CRT TV. My dad was thankfully percipient enough to refuse to go to his office during that week, but he did have friends in high places so it wasn’t much of a surprise if he received some kind of insiders info. I was about 12 years young at that time, on the cusp of teen hood. Puberty was on my mind, but that moment of watching a historical event unfold (which of course I did not understand it as something momentous) with my dad explaining with excitement of what was going on, even though I sure as hell did not understand the most of it, was illuminating. A father and son bonding session as result of reformasi. That sounded like a thesis topic: Family Relations and Social Change: Exploring Familial Relations through the 1998 Reformasi. (Hah!)

It did however shape my values and ideas that I still hold on to this day not only on politics per se but what I wanted or expected from this thing called the nation-state. I have to say that the May 1998 riots and demonstrations, the visualization of the riots on TV and my dad narrating in the background constantly interrupting the reporter, was the reason why I remember that day so clear. It made an indelible mark on me. I can’t even begin to imagine the impact to those who were physically effected by the riots, houses and stores burned down, people being raped and/or murdered..

About a week after the riots, on the 21st of May 1998 President Soeharto resigned after 32 years in power. I saw my dad cheering, again not fully grasping the reasons why, although he did try his best to explain. But it piqued my interest in politics, and being told that this this new thing (really new for me at that time) called the internet had much to offer about what was happening then, a few weeks after that, using my mom’s 36.6 kbps dial-up modem that I was awfully proud of, I registered for a shiny new Hotmail account. In hopes of joining mailing lists.

Wasantara-net, owned by Indonesia’s postal service, was my family’s choice for the internet service provider. I hated them as they were first-class in unreliability, but they were the only providers to be able to connect my house, on the edge of bogor, to the world wide web. My first few emails, if again I remember correctly, were chain mails about the May riots that I subscribed through questionable mIRC chats. Chats that start with A/S/L, age, sex, location, and either ends in hook ups, or being involved in something you’re too young or ignorant to fully understand.

Being young(er) and wanting to be part of something important is such a motivating factor in us actually doing and becoming something. With Carl Gustav Jung in mind, being young or old, we are but “modern man in search of meaning” and being part of something greater than ourselves does still give me meaning.

Fast forward a few decades, I’ve noticed that you get a raised eyebrow when you tell people that you’ve been using the same email for more than 20 years now, and you get double raised eyebrows and an instance of wincing, once they find out that said email is a Hotmail account. I am coming up with less and less excuses of why I haven’t migrated fully to other emails. But hey, you know what they say, habit brings comfort, repetition brings comfort, knowledge that arises from experience, from personal history, brings comfort. Although not always, the past brings comfort, while the future which is riddled with unpredictability is lamented and brings worry if not angst. Comfort though, I have come to understand, brings laziness and at many times dullness.

It is however always interesting looking at one’s own past and how it is intertwined with the past of others. I think I’ve written about this a number of times, and most of my writings are born from the act of retrospect. I often assume that I would not be able to talk about my future if I never look at my past, but what also happens is that I also end up talking more about my past or at the very most my present rather than talking/thinking about my future. Is that bad? Is that good? Am I shying away from discussions about my particular future? Maybe, I don’t have an answer to that now. But I know it’s there, tucked away in the back of my mind so I’ll probably talk more about that someday. And with Covid-19 destroying all of my plans in the near future that someday will probably come sooner.

Coming home to Indonesia, after a number of years abroad, I have also come to realize, sadly, that many of my social activities here in this space which I reluctantly call home, are more often than not, performative acts that I do not like performing for. I am basically faking it and I am doing this by fulfilling a cultural and social role that I necessarily do not have strong feelings for, or even just feelings for, but I have adapted myself into it. Somewhat. The reason why I do this is simply out of respect of others. Things that do not give meaning for me, has often been deeply meaningful for others and expressing it verbally does not bode well for maintaining relationships. I am happy to say that I have Rara to remind me when I have become too logical (I am happy to say that I have Rara to remind about many things in life) in understanding the meaning of culture for many. But it is, simply put, not without its personal struggles.

Being a son, being a son-in-law, being a younger and the youngest child in a family oriented, confuscianist-style, hierarchical, the-individual-is-constantly-attached-to-the-social kind of society. And then being a husband in a patriarchal society, where I am expected to fill a kind of leadership role that tires, bores and disinterests me.

(On a side note: for some reason, I have often come across this odd discussion of alpha/beta male/female amongst my peers here. Which I find interesting as it denotes a fixation to hierarchy and also the assumption of fixed temperaments/personalities of an individual across space and time. Are they basically saying that agency of one’s self perceived to be rarely possible? Is change and adapting to a situation impossible? )

Then without doubt as a citizen of a nation that I superficially identify with. How can I ever identify with a nation that happily and openly oppresses others for the sake of unity? And not only rarely admits it but even more rare tries to amend it. It is a simple rhetorical question.

In sum, I have to be honest with myself here, coming back home to Indonesia is not home for me and I don’t think it will ever be one. It is more of a burden than something that brings joy.

The food is great here and I have my family here which is also nice but life of course is much, much more than just culinary preferences or familial ties. I am losing my sense of self here, and it is destructive for me. I am losing myself.

Fully realizing this I was looking for a sense of direction when I reread some of my old already read books that once inspired and also my old blog posts these past few weeks. At the crux of it, this blog has always been for me. It is shared publicly in hopes of others sharing what they have learned through life and what I have done wrong in my life. And I have done many wrongs that have not been righted, some no longer even have the possibility of being righted.

Rereading my blog, I realize much like others, that our attempts in finding meaning, and our meanings when they are found are frail and delicate. It is constantly assailed and it is easily lost, and at times harder to find when lost. Life it seems always tries its best to rob you of meaning. Not because it is intent in doing so, but because the very nature of life is in its impermanence. Everything is impermanent including meaning itself.

Intellectually and experientially I understand this. But again like many, I’ve still tried to find meaning in others, and much like many I’ve lost these people in which I have found meaning in. This is the constant dillema as naturally social creatures.

It is perhaps in our nature to be contradictory, or to live in denial, to assume that meaning and the people or objects that give meaning is eternal.

Some of these people that I have acquired meaning from I have forever lost through death, much like so many people out there. I have also lost some rather unintentionally, such as due to spoken words that are not carefully thought out. Some by design, on purpose, with deep intent and thoroughly planned with precision execution, slowly letting go. At other times, a harsh break, a rude awakening on both ends, yet ending in a sigh of relief. As some relationships, although lush with wonderful memories, are never meant to last and can never be let to live in the future. Memories that remain as memories, stories of the past, that do not become worries of the present nor burdens of the future. Our understanding of meaning is often forced to change and to morph and at many times, to end. People and things that once provided meaning no longer do, as people and the things around us change. People including me.

I’ve changed, I know I’ve changed, I’m quieter yet more angry of the world, hopefully a bit more thoughtful of my words and actions. But one thing that hasn’t changed is how I am not done with grief, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be done with it. I’m not even sure if it’s actually grief. Because we all know that the tragedy of growing old, is the tragedy of unwillingly filling your life with regrets and maybe my grief is but a thin veil for my regrets.

One of my plants in my garden died today. A lush rosella bush that I was hoping to make some tea out of its beautiful red flowers. The days are drawing long, and hope is few and far in between.

Be well everyone.