𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈. Dain’s devotion to romantic partners and weakness in receiving praise.
While Dain is all about being reverent with his romantic partners and let them know how beautiful they are in his eyes (either verbally or physically, more the latter), there’s something about receiving praise that makes him extremely weak— specially in all the time that encompasses from the post-Cataclysm to the present days.
jean moreau is coming back to himself in pieces this weekend so i think it's time i say something about it
i read tsc back in february & it's been ruining my life. tsc is good. like extremely good. it's devastating & hopeful & you will root for jean the entire time because there is literally nothing this boy deserves more than a chance at happiness but i loved this book so much that i don't even have words for it so i can't say anything else without spoiling the entire thing.
what i will say: the daffodil is the perfect symbol for his story. resilient flowers that crack out of the ground after a barren winter and mark the end of cold, dark days. dormant, but never dead.
tsc comes out on the 13th and i don't think anybody will regret giving jean's story a chance :)
I just remembered that up until 5th grade, all of the sports teams I was in weren't separated by gender. I played basketball and baseball with boys. And we did just fine.
It wasn't until 6th grade when they segregated it by gender. It didn't make sense to me. I was now in softball because of baseball, because "softball is for girls" and "baseball is for boys" (which confused me bc my dad was on an adult softball team).
Now, my brother's all-male team didn't win a single game. My all-girls team won every single one.
They presented the boys' team with this HUGE trophy, and if you wanted replicas of it, they were $30 each.
My team was presented with a very small trophy. Extras were $5.
That's when I decided gender-segregated sports were bullshit.
But..like... Kristen Applebees would be a terrible student body president? Just, at the base level of what the job entails, responsibility is literally what student government is about???And unless the function of student government is completely different at Aguefort, it's just a lot of organizing and planning and fundraising - you know, the boring stuff she's never once shown interest in. The shit she didn't want to do for cleric class.
I just want one (1) person to ask her if she knows what the actual job is and if she actually has any plans to do it.
"Back when you first came into my life,
I recalled a place that I knew as a child
A special place
One that I held close to my heart
Won’t you lead me in a dance down this winding road where light and shadow entwine to take hold of the thoughts of the one left far behind?
Know that, sometimes, I want to turn around and see the things that I’ve passed on the journey, but know with love on my side, with courage and pride, I’ll fight
I will carry on"
I jokingly thought before that reading Junie B. Jones as a kid turned me into a feminist, but unironically, it kind of did.
I honestly think it comes down to the fact that Junie B. was not only allowed to be "weird," but her character arc never concluded like other girl characters would. In other media featuring "weird girls," the girl always ended her arc tamed - by force or convince, she would be prettied up, she would smile and be polite, and she would never speak out of turn. She would be perfect then, and would shed her veneer of individuality with the freedom that is conformity. As a kid, I noticed that girls weren't permitted to be "weird" like boys were. So when I read Junie B. Jones, I loved that she was frankly just fucking weird. She said things out of turn, she was rambunctious and imaginative and she was a realistic portrayal of a little girl. I loved reading those books because the narrative taught her lessons without punishing her for being weird, if that makes sense. So often, narratives punished weird girls for the crime of being a socially unacceptable girl, not for any true wrongdoing like lying.
Anyway, I just think it's interesting, because I watched and read a ton of books and shows and movies featuring girls and women, but none of them truly empathized with (or even tried to empathize with) weird girls on their own merits and capabilities and terms, or embraced the idea of a "socially inept/unacceptable" girl without punishing her in some way for her supposed ineptitude.
Ascended Vampire Lord Astarion with a beloved consort that was finally able to escape his grasp. After years, she's finally able to secret herself away and slip her chains, running from him and going into hiding so that he can never drag her back again.
It's no secret that he's gone mad, driven to the brink by his obsession with her in her absence. He refuses to simply take another lover or find a willing wife, spending untold resources and wealth trying to find her and coax her back, but she somehow stays hidden from him, somehow just out of his reach--
--However, he refuses to let her go.
Instead, he becomes slightly unhinged.
Astarion barters with a devil once again, only this time, it's for possession of a succubus. A very particular succubus who knows of his wayward little lover, and just so happens to have her form tucked away in her repertoire thanks to their earlier adventures.
He commands Haarlep to take her image each and every time he fucks her. It's the only way he'll sleep with anyone else-- the only way he'll find release while she is gone.
And Tav knows every time he's ravaging her because she can feel it. Feel his hands ghost across her body, squeezing the rounds of her neck until she can't breathe, scratching down her spine until she bleeds-- she feels all of it through this succubus' infernal connection. She is forced to acknowledge his power over her— his utter obsession with her— day in and day out, being violated by him over and over again even as she's finally escaped him.
Each time he takes the succubus, he is reminding her what he's done to her— what he'll do to her again when he gets his hands on her. His fucked up little way of saying "I'm thinking about you, darling" as he violates her body and mind, and no matter what she does, she cannot escape it. A ticking clock counting down the hours until he can touch her again.
She cannot hide forever.
It's only a matter of time, and every time she feels the phantom warmth flood between her thighs, or the tightness in her throat that leaves her with an aching jaw, or the sharp, miserable pain in her backside that has her hobbling for days, she knows he's thinking about her once more.
i turn 29 on july 1st. i feel like i make a lot of these notes to myself, to check in. hi, me, here's what's happening.
hi, me. hi, you, too, if you keep reading. here's some rules i have been following:
when a book is bad, i put the book down. i choose something i like instead. when i don't like a movie, i don't make myself watch until the end. i care less and less what people think about me and focus more on being a good friend.
for the 6 months or so, i've been asking people what they think should be my next book or tv show. i ask them where i should go on a walk next week. i ask them what food i should try next, what hobby. and then i write it down in front of them.
the truth is some stuff slips through the cracks. but most of the time? within two weeks, i get to send my favorite kind of text - so i tried the thing you were talking about and !
i have a new policy for split-second choices - it's better to try it. i have social anxiety. i have to talk myself into doing many things. i am constantly battling the desire to run away as far as my feet will take me. and then i stand up and i do the thing anyway. i make myself act and dance and sing. sometimes, yes, i know-immediately never again, i hate this. but most of the time - i just have fun with it.
i have a new mantra - nobody is scorekeeping. at the end of my life, there will be no grand reading of how many calories i'd been eating. no reviews on how many boring documentaries i forced myself through, no calculation on how many hours i endured an extremely dull educational podcast. and so what if i try karaoke and i don't actually nail it? so what if i stumble over my words while trying to make a public announcement? so what if i wear something too-showy to go to the grocery store? nobody there knows me, and: nobody's keeping score.
life doesn't resolve with a grade (i know, i was as shocked as everyone else when i realized it). i am not falling behind, because there's no curriculum to life that i should be following. there are no checkpoints; nobody is making sure i have a fully-furnished life resume. i am just here for as long as the earth will have me, and i get to decide what makes me happy.
i don't have a partner or a house or anything that is supposed to belong to people-my-age. i spend most of my time focusing on being kind, compassionate, ready to listen without restraint.
and honestly? i feel good. like actually. i kind of like it this way.
child prodigy who was estranged from their biological family in a way they feel weird about? ✔️ chaos-loving? ✔️ confident? ✔️ independent? ✔️ they'd vibe, your honour
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