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vivalabunbun · 7 months

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When It Rains, Why Does It Pour?

Summary: Sand is quite a nuisance, it creeps into every crevice and no amount of dusting can free oneself from its stubborn hold. Yet, the tide still greets the shore.

Word Count: 8.8k (oh no...)

Tags: Neuvillette x GN!Reader, human!reader, SFW, fluff, childhood friends AU, Slow Burn, Slow Fic, Angst, Hurt with Comfort, themes about reincarnation, TW: Themes about death and loss, themes about aging, immortal x mortal AU, not lore accurate, reader is an attendant, human prejudice, Spoilers Warning: His story quest and archon quests, speculations about his past in Fontaine, why is he so mysterious

Authors Note: This was a challenge trying to write from the POV of a man you don't even know the name of, but I just had to write something for him. A character study of Neuvillette. Enjoy!

How long has it been since he first arrived here? One month? Two? Or perhaps it has already been a year? The young dragon wasn’t too sure.

The days seem to blend together when one only eats, studies, and sleeps all on repeat. A cruel trait of time. The weather outside the glass windows didn’t provide any hints either.

However, he himself is to blame.

A gray haze concealed azure skies as rhythmic drops of rain hit the earth. Blocking out the all-seeing sun and nurturing moon, the murky clouds above even hinder the stars from accompanying him.

A true reflection of his current solitude.

The young dragon arrived in the human world, brought over by the lord of Fontaine. Due to the nature of his arrival to this nation, he was given status and importance in the eyes of the citizens. However, he has yet to receive acceptance.

The grand estate in which he resides was staffed with countless butlers and maids, renowned chefs, and skilled tutors. He was wanting of nothing, yet still impoverished.

He could see it in their mortal eyes, he could sense it in the tangible silence of the halls, he could tell from the distance each mortal put between themselves and him.

Much like the towering stone walls which surrounded his private residence.

Was it to separate themselves from him or himself from them?

A question he entertains as lilac eyes scan over the aforementioned wall. Its gray stones are a welcomed change from the dry parchment with even drier content.

As he observes the drab stones contrast against a dreary sky, a small flash of white cuts through the somber composition.

Catching his lilac eyes as they follow the strange shape, it drifts through the capricious wind before the breeze grew bored and tossed it to the ground.

Studying it a bit further, the young dragon identifies the object as a simple pillowcase. Nothing more than a scrap of fabric.

He reasons that the wind must’ve stolen it from some clothesline. Just when he was about to return to the legal ledgers a rustling came from the bushes lining the bottom of the wall.

A small frame pushes apart the thick vegetation, creating enough space to finally free themselves from the entangled mess of branches.

The towering wall, the one meant to separate him from the mortals, was defeated by a mere child.

A child who’s clumsy brushing the twigs from their garments and shaking a few raindrops from their hair. He watches as the small human trots toward the discarded pillowcase, a pout forming on their lips as they observe the mud that had seeped into the silk.

Judging by the simple attire they don, they must be the child of a maid.

Ah humans, fickle and temperamental creatures created by the usurpers. It took a conscious effort on his part to stop the frown threatening to appear on his lips.

Seems like he still needs to get used to their presence.

It was as if the child sensed the bitterness in his thoughts because soon a pair of wide eyes connected with lilac. Even with the sun hiding behind dreary clouds, there was a light that twinkled in their irises.

It was only for a minute, no, even less than that. But a young dragon and a young human held each other’s gaze.

The child’s shoulders jolt as they turn their head back toward the wall, as if a voice called for them. Casting one last glance toward the young dragon, the child trots back toward the wall, disappearing within the murky viridescent.

And that was the end, like the breeze that littered a scrap of fabric among the grass, the small human came and went.

Such fickle creatures, the young dragon gives it one last thought before returning his attention back to a cluttered desk.

–

Amongst the soft drumming of droplets came a tap against the glass too sharp to be caused by the gentle rain. Causing the young dragon to turn away from the stacks of books laid out before him.

The wet glass obscured a small flicker of an orange glow, thus he walked closer to investigate. With each step, the figure outside the window became undeciphered.

That small human again.

Locking eyes with the human outside the glass, the fickle creature’s lips curl up, the glow of their lamp illuminating the curiosity behind their gaze.

A human child doesn’t have the potential to cause much if any harm to him. Thus, he releases the lock, removing the glass barrier separating two breathes.

“Hello! What is uh… your name?” They chirp out.

His sharp ears picked up the clumsiness in their speech, the subtle unfamiliarity of the words they spoke. Distinct signs that you were still learning the language of Fontaine, much like him.

Although he understood your question, he was too distracted to answer. Lilac eyes wandering off toward the stone wall. Within the entangled mess of twigs, there was a small parting.

A part just wide enough to reveal the secret the bushes desperately tried to hide: A small hole along the bottom of the stone barrier. Just enough for a small creature to slip through.

Discovering the truth behind how a small human was able to defeat such a seemingly impenetrable wall.

The pattering of the rain was interrupted by the rustling of fabric, drawing his attention back to the small human in front of him.

The child rummages through their pockets before pulling out a lump covered by a handkerchief. Peeling back the layer of fabric to reveal some conch madeleines, presenting fragmented sweets before the young dragon.

“It tastes good, I promise.” A small hand extends itself further through the open window.

Observing the crumbly sweets laid out upon a handkerchief, the young dragon halted the rejection that almost escaped his lips. Remembering the concepts he had just been reading before this.

Humans tend to follow a set of unwritten rules, principles they like to call ‘manners’. There weren’t any punishments issued by law if those rules were broken, no imprisonment or fines.

However, narrow-eye stares and whispers behind backs were the punishments issued to transgressors by society.

So, he accepts a piece, trying to ignore the sand-like sensation against his tongue. As he chewed, the grin on the human’s face only got wider.

“Now that you’ve taken one, you have to give me your name, it’s only uh… fair!”

Ah, it looks like he’s been tricked. Falling into the clumsy sugar-coated trap only a child could come up with. Yet, as his lilac gaze caught the twinkle still ever so bright in their eyes, he didn’t have the strength to form a frown.

Just a curious human child, only as dangerous as a firefly buzzing in his ear. There shouldn’t be any harm in disclosing the surname bestowed upon him by this nation.

“Neuvillette.” He finally said his first words to you.

A peculiar pattern is recurring. That rainy night when Neuvillette opened those windows, it looked like he welcomed a phenomenon in as well.

Even in his current state, a small human like you could pose no possible threat to him. Thus, whenever a certain tap was placed against the glass. He saw no reason to turn away the visitor. Allowing you to climb in through his window time and time again.

It would’ve been better if you used the door. However, he’s aware of the complications such a request would bring.

Perhaps it’s because he’s currently in the form of a young child, sharing a similar stature to yours. From his observations, humans do have a tendency to gravitate toward those with similar traits. Or perhaps, you’re just exceptionally brazen.

Neuvillette glances up from his book, thick with endless sentences describing obscure and frivolous laws, landing on your frame lazing around upon a rug.

One hand holds onto a collection of fables, pages illuminated by the gentle rays of a star. While the other periodically reaches out toward a pile of conch madeleine.

A sight he’s come to expect now.

Lavender eyes follow your hand as it brings another one of the crumbly sweets to your mouth again. You brought them over under the pretense of sharing them with him, yet they’re already half gone. The only hand reaching for the sweets being yours.

Just like how it was last time, and the time before that, and the one before that as well.

If you felt this complacent in his presence now, then perhaps he can be more candid with you. As is common practice among humans to present a polite front that gradually wears away each recurring meeting.

“You do not have to bring over any more conch madeleine.”

The moment those words left his lips the motion of your hand halted, looking up to connect your sight with his, confusion pinching together your brows.

“Oh? Why so suddenly?” The collection of fables now resting on the rug.

It’s already been done, the first ripple in the frangible water between you and him. There is nothing that can cease the waves that accompany the first breach. He might as well say the whole truth.

“They are dry, I cannot fathom how you can bring yourself to eat them.” Prescriptive eyes caught a faint flinch as you processed his edict.

“They taste fine to me…” You mutter, picking another one up.

This time you chewed slower. The pinch between your brow only grew as you tasted the sweet again, searching for the perceived flaw.

As you met his gaze once more, he could tell your search brought forth no fruitful conclusions. Thus you asked another question in response.

“Then what do you like?”

Besides the pleasantries commonly exchanged between humans in Fontaine, Neuvillette recognizes he lacks the talent for small talk.

The room usually filled with your grievances about whichever tedious task you were assigned before you slipped away behind a wall and into his private residence. Ambient noise which accompanied each flip of a law book.

It is long overdue for him to pull his weight in a conversation.

“Water, spring water.”

“Huh?”

Neuvillette repeats his sentence but the scrunch of your brows doesn’t ease up, he couldn’t fight the urge to draw in a deep breath. So this is the limitation of the human palate, how regrettable.

“Perhaps you are still too simple to appreciate the qualities of water.”

The pout upon your crumb-covered lips morphs into a tight line, sealing away your voice. The brightly printed cover of a storybook was shut as the last few remaining treats were bundled away in a napkin.

Your tea break ended early today, impassive eyes following your figure as it disappeared among the thick vegetation beside a stone barrier.

It was quiet today, not even a single parting uttered past your sealed lips. Therefore leaving the conversation unfinished.

But that is today, you’ll have another tea break tomorrow, and you’ll come to him with your grievances about chores tomorrow as well.

The young dragon returns his focus to the text in front of him.

–

The soft hymn of raindrops against a glass window reverbed through the solitary study, providing a melody for the periodic flips of paper. But the melody was hollow, incomplete.

Shifting his body to look behind himself at the vacant rug, Neuvillette deduces why. The accompaniment was missing.

That tomorrow he had come to expect never came.

Had he committed a transgression? Overstep a line outside his place? Food is a point of pride for many humans, one oddity he’s yet to grasp.

These temperamental creatures tend to lash out when their pride is wounded, much like how a beast reacts to an unhealed cut.

Neuvillette was curious as to whether this was an inherent trait of humanity or a learned by-product of the fickle principles imposed on themselves.

However, observing the abandoned storybook tucked away, the young dragon is leaning towards the former.

Turning back to face his desk, his eyes could only glaze over the monotonous scribbles. Perhaps the cause of his spiritless attitude was disappointment, disappointment in himself.

It looks like he was careless, deluding himself with the misconception that you and him were alike. Two outsiders who found solace in each other’s presence.

However, this was false. You were an outsider to Fontaine, but he was an outsider to this world where humans walked.

He’s still too naive.

Fickle and temperamental creatures spoiled by the usurpers at the expense of his ancestors.

Why did he even entertain the thought that you and him could ever be alike?

Something stirred from within, like when pebbles were thrown into still water, but what were those pebbles? As Neuvillette ponders this conundrum, the drumming of the rain grows louder.

However, it wasn’t loud enough to swallow up the sharp set of taps which interrupted his somber reflection. Jolting him from his thoughts, snapping his attention to the source of the noise.

There stood a figure distorted by the wet glass as another set of sharp taps sounded through the room.

Before Neuvillette could even process it, his body moved without his command. Unlatching the lock and setting the window free from its frame.

Not sparing another second to the raindrops soaking into their cloak, the figure clambers through the window with practiced proficiency.

Without uttering a single greeting, not even one pleasantry, you situated yourself on his floor. Melting into an undignified lump on the pristine tiles as bewildered eyes watched you.

After catching a few breaths, an explanation finally makes its way to his ears.

“T-they… they patched… up the hole,” you huffed out between short breaths.

Ah, the small cavity in the stone wall that you used to escape from chores. Looks like the security at the estate finally noticed.

Gauging the height of the wall from his place by the window, he’s aware of how it towers over both him and you the same.

This brings up another question as he returns to observe your frame, still trying to catch the breaths that evade you.

“I… ran… through the gates… before the… Gardes noticed…” Exhaustion evident in your eyes as pants break up your sentence.

Ah, looks like his question was answered before he even inquired. To be puzzled or amazed, he wasn’t too sure how to categorize this ripple inside him.

The tomorrow that’s been missing for a little more than two weeks, is now right in front of him.

Panting and leaving a few muddy traces along the marble floor, but here nonetheless.

With one deep motion of your lungs, you pushed your body up, finally getting ahold of your breath. The familiar rustle of your pocket, the audio cue for a certain dry sweet to appear. Neuvillette didn’t mind in the least.

Perhaps, he can bear the sandy sensation just for today. But tomorrow is always filled up with surprises, a glass bottle finding its way out of your pocket instead of sugary treats.

“What is that?” An obvious question, but his voice found its way out of his mouth.

“Water, water from the servant’s well, I bottled it myself.” A small hand holds the bottle out more.

“Thank you,” Neuvillette accepts it into his hands.

He should really acquire some glasses to pour the water out into, it’s improper and bad manners to drink from the bottle.

However, his curiosity was greater. Or maybe, he didn’t realize just how parched he had become from waiting for tomorrow.

Uncapping the clumsily packaged water, he takes a generous sip.

“It’s sweet.” His tongue picking up on a subtle saccharine undertone.

“Really?” Your hand reaches up as that familiar shine illuminates your eyes.

Taking a sip from the bottle passed back into your grasp, your brows furrowing in concentration. Another sip was taken from the bottle as you continued to search for the sweetness in the water you’ve always drank.

A sight that tugged up at the lips of a boy still studying the shape of your quirked brows.

Humans, fickle, perplexing, yet astoundingly curious creatures from the very beginning.

If he is to walk amongst the human world, then it’s best for him to be equally curious. To try and search for the harmony between two different breaths.

A child of a maid far from their homeland. A status too insignificant to warrant the attention of Fontaine's factions, freeing you from their prying eyes and entanglements.

Therefore, it should be alright for him to continue observing you, no?

“Ahh… The rain is so unpredictable here in Fontaine, trying to hang out the wash here is always a gamble.” You sink further into the plush cushions of his settee.

As the sun rose and fell, as the leaves grew green then gold, as the ground froze and thawed.

One thing remained unchanged throughout these cycles even as they repeated: your grievances over chores.

The frequency of these complaints reaching his ears has increased, on the part that you now took over more of your mother’s responsibilities in managing the laundry of this estate.

Besides your habitual complaints of the weather, one detail didn’t escape Neuvillette’s hearing: your proficiency in the Fontainian language has increased significantly.

Words no longer spoken clumsily or with unfamiliarity. Accent nearly indistinguishable from a native speaker.

“The people here are fond of creating strange machinery, why can’t they make something to dry clothes?” You resume.

The quill in his hand stops as he pauses in the middle of a sentence, glancing over his shoulder toward your slouching figure making yourself comfortable in the sofa that’s more familiar with your shape than his.

“Perhaps you should be the one to create it, studying might do you some good as well,” came his curt response.

His candid advice makes you sink further into the cushions with a groan.

“I’d rather travel than study those jumbled-up books about machinery or whatever, in fact, I want to visit my homeland as soon as I can,” you grumble aloud.

Ah, that’s right, you’re approaching the age where you could travel freely.

By law, you won’t be bound to the side of your mother, not needing any permission to come to and fro however you wish. No longer kept at this estate washing and folding sheets.

Indeed, you and him found yourselves in similar situations: on the cusp of freedom from this estate.

While he was deep in thought, you filled the silence left behind by posing a question to him.

“Do you plan on visiting your homeland anytime soon, Neuvi?”

By now, the young dragon had stopped expending the effort to try and correct you in your butchering of his surname. Your reason being ‘it’s too long’.

Alongside you, he has grown in stature as well, elapsing you some time ago much to your dismay. If he wished to travel, not much would pose a problem to the young dragon.

However… where could he return to? A homeland… was there a section of his homeland untouched by the usurpers? If he were to go, would he ever want to return to this world?

Sensing the change in the air, dreary clouds blocking the sun’s rays from your skin, you were perceptive enough to ramble about a different matter.

Namely, how the chef of the estate recently changed the type of flour used in the kitchens, resulting in pastries and sweets that were less airy but more flavorful.

Explaining to him the subtle improvements and deterioration in the quality of some baked goods. Filling the air of the study with bright-eyed ramblings until rays of light peek out from waning clouds.

–

“Monsieur Neuvillette! It’s been a while since you’ve visited!” Soft patters of skipping steps made their way to the tall man.

Tilting his sights down, Neuvillette greets the cheery melusine with a gentle smile which she returned with an equally bright grin.

While on a routine stroll along the riverbanks to stretch his legs after a long day, he found himself at the entrance of Merusea Village.

He wonders if it's his body’s natural response to get away from the Palais Mermonia and Opera Epiclese.

Carrying him toward the direction of a secluded reprieve he discovered far away from the suspicious eyes of weary humans.

Condemnatory eyes were constantly pinned to the back of the young dragon who had recently emerged from a sheltered estate to sit in the grand seat of a Chief Justice.

Days filled with nothing but a cacophony of voices echoing off the opera house walls. Screams from the accused and the eager murmurs of spectators blended into nothing more than a chaotic din in his ears.

Gazing deeper into the small lake, the unsuspecting entrance to a hidden haven that the Melusines called home.

It would only take a moment, just one dip into the pristine water for him to disappear from the clamorous mortal realm.

Abandoning the overly grand seat of his post as easily as it would take for his head to vanish under the tranquil tide.

How great would it be to exist in the presence of creatures who could resonate with his own adriftness?

Maybe, he could finally discover the purpose of his current form and longevity in their company. Yes, that sounds about right.

Just as the water wet the tip of his overly ornate shoe, all motion his body stills at a familiar call.

“NEUVI!” Came a voice from just over the beaten path.

Soon your silhouette follows the echo of your call, steps hurried yet worn.

When the young dragon departed from his temporary estate and into the Palais Mermonia, a certain specter followed him as well.

The same specter who’s currently huffing to catch their breath after such a rush. Trying to gather enough air to form their next sentence.

“There you are! The grand tailor sent me to fetch you because you’re almost an hour late to the fitting of your new robe, they need to make sure the measurements are correct,” you chide.

The exasperation of your words was most definitely caused by the fact you had to physically exert yourself in your search for the wandering Chief Justice. Evident by the pout on your lips and scrunched nose.

His attention was quickly torn away from your recuperating figure by a faint tug of his slacks.

The Melusine had hidden herself behind his legs, creating a barrier between her and the strange mortal who seemingly appeared from the blue.

Her sudden movement caught your attention as well.

Ah, that’s right. The Melusines have yet to be acquainted with humans, and humans with Melusines.

Two different species, two different breaths, and two different sets of eyes that can’t seem to see directly into each other.

If his time within the wall of the estate and Palais Mermonia had proven anything, it would be the natural adversity humans had to differences.

Neuvillete certainly wasn’t prepared for such an event, nor was he sure how to handle it.

In the midst of his inaction, your hand reached into your pocket, fumbling around before pulling out a handkerchief-covered lump.

Despite the soreness in your legs, you lowered your body until you were at eye level with the shorter Melusine.

“Hello there, would you like some conch madeleines?” Unraveling the fabric to reveal the sweets which you seem to have an abundant supply of.

The grip on his slacks tightened as she glanced up at him, lilac eyes catching the hesitance in her irises. Neuvillette gives a subtle nod, giving just enough reassurance for the small creature to release his pant leg.

Reaching a mitten-like hand toward the golden sweets, it only took one bite for the hesitance in her eyes to be replaced by a bright twinkle.

“It’s tasty isn’t it?” Your lips formed a wider grin.

The Melusine responds with an eager nod, too occupied with bringing more of the buttery treat into her mouth.

At the sight of her restless chewing covering her cheeks with faint crumbs, you let out a giggle.

“I’ll give you the rest of the sweets if you tell me your name,” you offered.

After a few moments of the Melusine finishing her previous bite, she falls for the same trap he had many years ago.

“My name is Carole!” She chirps.

“What a wonderful name.” Your gaze softened further as you held out the treats, keeping your promise.

As Carole reaches for more, she glances back up. Wide eyes twinkling as she inquires him with the one thought currently on her mind.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, does the human world have more treats as delicious as these?”

Ah, it looks like the stroll Neuvillette took today to relieve himself of mounting troubles only led him to more.

The skies over the Court of Fontaine have been in a pensive stalemate, all too familiar clouds blocking azure hues. However, rain has yet to patter on the ground, as if the weather was unsure of itself.

A feeling shared by the Chief Justice currently sitting at his desk, reviewing the details of the day’s trials. Albeit, half heartily.

Much like the skies crowded with clouds, in the solitude of his office, his mind rang loud with thoughts. Neuvillette only had himself to blame for the current silence of his office, it’s been this way for around a week going on two now.

Lilac eyes peered over the tops of the papers toward the shut doors, concealing him away. There hasn’t been a knock on those doors for some time now, due to the diligent Melusines who followed his request.

Turning away potential visitors with crafted excuses of ‘The Chief Justice is handling a very important case’ or ‘My apologies, but the Chief Justice is very busy’.

Neuvillette recognizes that he’s currently no different than a child hiding away from the consequences of a broken vase.

How childish, he chides himself as he returns back to his responsibilities. How would the citizens of Fontaine react to their Chief Justice conducting himself in such a manner?

He’s sure if Lady Furina were to catch wind of his behavior, she’d be greatly entertained.

As if the mere mention of the nation’s archon presented a bad omen, the sturdy doors of his office swung open, revealing the face of a familiar visitor who’s been turned away one too many times.

“My my, it’s been quite some time since I’ve seen the inside of this office, I almost forgot what it looks like,” you remark as your eyes hone in on him.

The child’s hiding place under the bed has been exposed.

“Good afternoon, I was not made aware you had any appointments with me.” Neuvillette’s own eyes trail past yours.

From behind the door frames the figures of two Melusines quickly dodged away from his sight. A silent admission of guilt on their part, and Neuvillette didn’t have to look hard to deduce the crime they’ve committed: Accepting bribes.

The evidence was right there in the form of buttery crumbs left on the corner of their mouths. Ah, you and with those conch madeleines of yours.

It’d be best for him to finally handle the situation at hand, one he’s been trying to maneuver out of.

“If I recall correctly, you were granted a vacation, why not take this chance to travel? It certainly is a prime opportunity-”

“Why have you been avoiding me, Monsieur?” you cut through the long-winded pleasantries and excuses.

His lips press together, by now he’s well accustomed to your brazenness. However, the absence of a familiar name only said in your voice made the guilt weigh heavier on his shoulders.

Guilt which originated a few weeks prior.

—

On a secluded riverbank, a routine walk under clear skies was halted. You were knelt down on the ground, uncaring of the sand sticking to the fabric of your clothes, as you held a Melusine between your arms. Two mittened hands clung to you as she soaked your shoulder with tears.

“W-why? Why did he have to go?” Her sobs interrupted by sudden hiccups.

As you rubbed circles into her back, something he saw humans do to soothe their crying young, Neuvillette watched from the side. Much like how he would observe those performances within the Opera Epiclese.

Liath is her name, a diligent Melusine who patrolled the grounds of the Palais Mermonia. By her side, there would be a guard poodle who’d matched her skips with his prances. An inseparable duo, or it’d be more accurate to say, they were once an inseparable duo.

Dogs are a species domesticated by humans, some might argue that they were created by humanity through generations of selection. So it stands to reason that they too would have a limited lifespan.

In fact, they have a lifespan even more restricted than that of the mortals who tamed them.

The Melusines have just begun walking amongst humans, there were still many aspects their sheltered minds have yet to grasp. The fleetingness of mortality is one of them.

Thus, Neuvillette did his best to caution them.

However, just like how laws can’t completely stop crimes, his words can’t completely prevent such tragedies. All he could do was try.

“I’m sorry for your grief, this was the very reason why I cautioned you against getting too attached to him… A dog’s life is brief-”

“Monsieur Neuvillette.”

The sentence died at the tip of his tongue as his eyes met yours. Gaze narrowed and brows furrowed, not even the Chief Justice dared to interject any further.

After you silenced him, your focus returned back to the grieving Melusine.

Slowly standing back up from the ground, her frame cradled in your arms as her sobs continued.

“I know it hurts,” you whispered, one hand patting her back, setting a steady rhythm reminding her to breathe.

“B-but why? W-why is it so sad?” she hiccuped.

You hummed, beginning to bounce her a bit within your hold.

“Wouldn’t it be sadder if you never met him?”

At your question, the Melusine stares at you through teary eyes. Expression lined with confusion.

“To have loved him, and for him to have loved you in return…isn’t that enough?” You cooed, taking steps away from the riverbank.

Still frozen in his place, the dragon could only stare at your back as it grew further and further away, soon disappearing from his view.

He had misspoke.

Neuvillette recalled last Autumn. As the vivid hues of the foliage shriveled up to nothing more than a shadow of their former beauty, you laid your mother to rest. Burying her in a cemetery which overlooked the direction of your homeland.

His unsolicited reprimand must have been throwing salt into a wound that still bled. He had overstepped his authority.

Murky clouds congregated in the once clear sky.

—

Those were the events that transpired, events that have led to the current stalemate happening in his office. Lilac eyes couldn’t seem to find the courage to connect with yours. Another excuse finding its way to his tongue.

“Didn’t you want to visit your homeland?”

“Oh?” Your brow quirks up, as your hands find their way to your hips.

“And then who’d be here to repair the tears in your robe when you inevitably step on them?” Obviously unimpressed by his suggestion.

“Surely there are other talented tailors here that can handle the task,” he rebukes.

“Oh? Will they also untangle your hair from the ornamentation of chairs?” You press on.

“I can manage.”

“Then can the Chief Justice also manage all the uniforms for the Melusines? Can he sew every button and ensure they fit correctly?”

Ah, with your last statement, Neuvillette concedes. A hush fills the room.

The Melusines are still new to walking amongst humans, not many were willing to tailor specialized uniforms for their short stature. Thus, you took up the mantle.

Perhaps out of a sense of responsibility, it was you who stirred their curiosity with those sweets of yours.

It seems responsibilities tethered you to the Court of Fontaine, much like they did to him. After a few breaths, as always, your voice shatters the stalemate.

“I’m not upset, Neuvi.”

With those words, his lilac eyes finally connect with yours. Finally able to see the soft curls at the corners of your lips.

It indeed has been a while since he last saw such a sight.

This time instead of replying with an excuse, he responds with a gentle hum.

“Ugh, why are your curtains so dusty? When was the last time you went outside?” It wasn’t long before your attention returned to the state of his office.

Strolling past his desk, your hands began to fuss with the thick drapes. Pouting at the dust that coated the lush fabrics.

All Neuvillette could do was follow with his gaze, papers long pushed to the side as for the first time in a while, an azure hue was seen peeking through the clouds.

From his observations, it’s instinctive for humans to avoid pain. However, it’d be hypocritical of him to judge mortals for actions he’s been guilty of.

“If I knew I had to work this hard now, I would’ve skipped more chores back at the estate,” you chuckle, pulling back the drapes to allow gold to illuminate his office.

To have loved and have been loved in return.

Was this the human rationale behind taming a dog? Having the reality of the future constantly lurking over each happy moment as the hands of time tick forward.

Why do humans dote on pets? Creatures that only live a fraction of a mortal life?

Are happy memories a fair exchange for bitter grief, or are they the cure?

As Neuvillette counts the strands of peeking silver that mingle within your lush locks, he prays he finds the answer soon.

The clacks of ornate shoes reverberate down once unfamiliar halls, a towering figure lurks past bustling nurses who bow their heads at the sight of the Chief Justice as he passes by.

With a body like his, there is no reason for him to wander among these halls. Or more accurately, there once was no reason.

The taps of his soles slowed as a familiar door came into view, the only detail which differentiated it from the rest of the hall being the brass numbers displayed. Bringing up a glove-clothed knuckle, delicate taps were placed against the wood.

Almost immediately, a muffled ‘come in’ resounded behind the frame. Granting the Iudex permission to turn the polished knob, allowing him entry as the hinges sang their welcome.

“My, my, if it isn’t Monsieur Neuvillette, to whom do I owe the pleasure?” A grin spreads across your face, crinkling the corners of your eyes.

Instantly his frame stiffens in the midst of returning the door to its frame. Bringing his free hand up to his face, Neuvillette coughs as to compose himself once more.

“Please, forgo the formalities.”

Though your eyes might not be as sharp as they once were, the delicate dusting of pink along his pointed ears couldn’t escape their sight. Making your eyes crinkle more.

Feeling entertained enough, you cease your teasing and gesture toward the vacant chair beside your bed.

Obediently, his towering figure strides up to the seat, the wood squeaking under his weight as he settles onto it.

By now, the dragon has grown accustomed the structure of greetings, beginning with a layer of pleasantries.

“How have you been fairing?” Lavender eyes scrutinize the sheets and pillows, searching for any unapparent flaws.

“It’s just a mild case of pneumonia,” you muse aloud.

Momentarily resting his eyes behind a slow blink, all he could do was sigh at your brazen nonchalantness. Yet with a ghost of a smile on the same lips that sighed.

It was a mild case of pneumonia, a common ailment during the frosty months. For someone as steadfast as you, such an illness might’ve surrendered to your stubbornness.

It might've surrendered… if your body had remained as it once was.

How unfortunate it all is, that time is so cruel to mortal creatures.

Attentive eyes detailing each crease that settled by your lips, remnants of the many grins and laughs that stretched your face.

The basking light of a selfish star catches in your hair, lush hues that have faded to brilliant ivory. A shade that you often compare to his while jesting, ‘We match now’.

However, Neuvillette begs to differ, the sunlight is much more luminous in your tresses.

Trailing his sights back to your gaze. Deep lines formed by countless dynamic expressions drew attention to the glimmer forever present in your irises. Like paths on a map that led lilac eyes to yours.

“How are you finding your stay?” At times, Neuvillette found himself wondering how the azure tides appeared from your view.

“Mm, quite uneventful, eating, staring out a window, sleeping.”

He hums in response, contemplating if he should inquire you about such subjects. As you ramble, perhaps the dragon could grasp onto an inkling of understanding.

“Well, at least I can say that my stay has been anything but lonely.” Your eyes motioning toward a corner.

The bland, sterile wall overshadowed by a mass comprised of trinkets ranging from local flowers to any object whose surface catches light.

The heap grows day by day as each Melusine continues to bring their earnest gratitude to the human who sew each stitch of their coats. A sight that could stir even the most placid lake.

“They’re such sweethearts.” Each one of your words coated with endearment.

Once more, all the dragon could respond with was a mellow hum. Slow breaths fill the complacent silence between two species, one blessed by time and one shunned by it.

Neuvillette has grown accustomed to the structure of conversations but, alas, he still has no talent for small talk.

In the absence of dialogue, the layer of short pleasantries long dissolving, Neuvillette is left with nothing but his inquiries. It was all he had left, and so it was all he could offer.

“Are there any regrets you hold?”

“Oh oh? Getting sentimental so out of the blue, Neuvi?” A familiar quirk graces your brow.

“It’s nothing of the sort, just a musing that drifted in my mind during a stroll, I wish to know your thoughts on the matter.”

“Mmm… I don’t feel that I have any regrets, living an honest life and having the fortune to never have stepped foot in the Fortress of Meropide.”

“Is that really all? You never did get to travel like you dreamed of back at the estate.”

“Haha, trying to stump me with that, Neuvi?” you chuckle.

Relaxing more into the pillows which propped up your weary frame, you trail your sights toward the window.

“Didn’t I tell you already? I’ll have plenty of time to travel once I become a cloud, I can go everywhere the sky can reach.” Smile softening on your lips.

Neuvillette’s folded hands grasp one another tighter on his lap, his own lips pressing each other into a thin line.

The conversation was teetering closer and closer to the unspoken reality looming like a shadow in the room.

He wasn’t sure when it started, maybe when the first silver strands appeared in your hair or when you discovered his skin won’t wrinkle along with you.

He wasn’t sure when your adamant belief of becoming a cloud once the shadow came to claim you started.

Neuvillette wonders if this daydream was the product of those fables you browsed when you laid upon a plush rug.

Or was it your personally crafted fable to explain the incomprehensible to a creature who couldn’t fully grasp it?

A creature whose skin didn’t wrinkle, whose bones didn’t grow brittle. A creature seemingly untouched by time.

Fairytales do serve this purpose for children, magical fantasies to make uncomfortable realities palatable to naive minds.

“...vi?... Ne…?... Neuvi.”

A hand marred with age takes hold of one glove-clad hand, and a pleasant heat radiates through the leather. Coaxing Neuvillette’s attention back from its escapade.

“My apologies, I was lost in thought for a moment.” He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

But the frown weighing down on your lips didn’t disappear, much like how retreating into musings couldn’t wash away any shadows.

Your chest moves with a deep inhale.

“Maybe I do have one regret,” you began.

Readjusting your ailing fingers in his hold so that he could hold them with equal endearment, his ears concentrate on your voice.

“Actually, I have many,” you sigh.

Before he could formulate a response, you continued.

“I wish I could have shoulder the burdens you carry. I wish you would’ve shared them with me. And I wish I could even understand them, then maybe I could have understood you more.” Turning to face him, your disheartened eyes center on his frame.

A child born from a maid, a maid who traveled to Fontaine in hopes of a better future for her child. That was your origin, an outsider with neither fame nor fortune.

Thus, even as you followed him from a secluded estate to the grand Palais Mermonia, you could never follow him in status nor influence.

As unrest grew, as injustices mounted, and as tragedies took away friends.

All you could do was repair tears, sew buttons, and pour him a crisp glass of spring water as you waited for the storm to wash despair away.

That was how you saw it. But Neuvillette rebukes that notion.

The dignity of a newly established Chief Justice, who kept stepping on his overly ornate robes, was carefully maintained by you.

The Melusine’s uniforms, which solidified their presence in the human world, were crafted by you.

The patient hand that always offered silent comfort in the suffocating courts was yours.

Standing by his side, even as your bones grew to ache, to ensure the storm would pass and the sun emerge once more.

“You’ve done more than enough.” He states the truth, grasping your hand just a bit tighter.

“Are you sure?” Those airy chuckles of yours made their appearance again.

“I never even learned your real name,” you interject.

A knife, red hot and fresh from the forge, would have hurt less than the guilt which tore through him at that moment.

The Chief Justice, the symbol of honesty and conviction, is unable to tell the simplest truth.

What shall he do now?

The power of a name is often underestimated, the exchanging of names signifying the forging of a bond. One that would forever tether him to you and you to him.

Oh, what shall he do now?

Before his hesitant lips could take action, they were halted by a squeeze from your ailing grasp. Firm and warm, like a light that guides him up from the bottom of a turbulent ocean.

“You don’t have to tell me now, Neuvi, tell me when I come back from my trip.” Those gentle eyes of yours smile at him.

Reeling his hand in closer to you with your own, until the softness of your lips was felt along covered knuckles.

A common practice in Fontaine, one Neuvillette had witnessed time and time again as he passed the lovers who congregated by the Fountain of Leucine. Actions that dedicated promises to one another.

“I swear, once I’ve traveled enough, once I grow bored of foreign scenery, I’ll fall back down like rain to your side.” You whisper into the kiss.

It was his turn now, and he shall honor this ritual. Tenderly bringing in your hand to him, Neuvillette places his oath.

“Then I swear, when you return, I’ll tell you my name.” He whispers in the kiss.

The sterile rooms echo your airy chuckles as he keeps your hand close to himself for just a bit longer.

“Mmm… Where I should go first? Maybe I’ll just amble about,” you ponder aloud.

Gracing him with a smile which stretched your face and brought that familiar glimmer into your eyes.

“I wish you well on your travels.” Neuvillette presses another kiss into your knuckles.

–

Spring was always the rainy season for Fontaine, with gentle temperate showers to welcome the budding blooms back from their Winter sleep.

However, this year the torrential downpour was anything but gentle.

Planned trips canceled for the season, clothes remaining damp in baskets, and streets empty of their vigor. Even the Melusines couldn’t bring a skip to their steps.

It was as if time itself was slowed by the burdensome downpour.

The cawing of crows as their wings beat against the dreary winds adds to the lonely hymn sung by the raindrops.

At once the cadence of the rain increased, the downpour growing heavier, and the violent pattering grew deafening. As if the sky was now belting out their sorrowful ballad.

The rain could try. The skies can cry all they would like. But time, a cruel and unforgiving mistress, won’t ever stop.

To have loved and been loved, was it truly enough?

In Neuvillete’s eyes, he was the tide and you were the shore. The ebb and flow of water as the tide and shore met, time and time again.

Each crash into the shore stirred up something perplexing and disorderly within the tide, irritating like the sand that mixed into the pristine waves.

So the tide tried to retreat into the lonesome ocean.

Each time, the shore followed through grains of sand which the tide couldn’t ever seem to purge himself of.

Each time, the shore beckoned the tide to return to the sandy beaches of humanity filled with perplexities and disorder.

And each time, the tide surrendered to the call of the shore, lured in by its warmth.

But now, the shore has eroded away.

Where does the tide go now?

Drifting now in the vastness of a lonesome ocean, carrying nothing grains of sand. What shall the tide do now?

Neuvillette still has a lot to learn, for he couldn’t answer this riddle conjured by his own mind.

Unable to stop himself, the lone dragon stares off into the rain.

Eyes honing in the direction of a peaceful hill, one where a mother and child were laid to rest side by side overlooking a homeland they never got to visit.

Maybe that was the first destination of your journey.

During these past short years spent in this land, the young successor of the dragons has gained traitorous knowledge. One that undermines his preconceived purpose.

Neuvillette feels he’s grasped onto the faintest inkling of why humans, as fickle, perplexing, and fleeting as they are, were still the most beloved creatures of the gods.

Perhaps, he even understands now why those usurpers were willing to uproot the earth just for those beloved creatures.

The wet season transitions into the dry season, then the dry season will transition into another wet season. Again and again, on and on as the hands of a clock ticks forward.

Each new tick signifies another step forward in the march of time.

Each step brings change and each step pulls the present away from the past.

The rainy season of Spring was no longer as troublesome as it once was, as there was now a machine on the market that could dry clothes without the help of a bright star.

Melusines skip along down the paved paths of the Court of Fontaine as humans turn to greet them with endearing smiles.

New cafes line bustling streets as Clockwork Mekas make their evening patrols.

A great many changes have come to Fontaine, Neuvillette witnessed them all from his office at the Palais Mermonia.

A great many changes, yet some things are bound to stay the same. For example, the Chief Justice’s fondness for strolls along vacant riverbanks.

The gentle patters of raindrops lull the chaotic sympathy of trials, paperwork, and duties to a standstill. Reaching a hand out in front of him, Neuvillette catches a few drops in the palm of his gloved hand.

Lilac eyes examine the diminutive puddle in his hand before ultimately releasing the water back to the earth.

He supposes he’s been feeling a bit nostalgic as of late, like a child recalling a story which once soothed them to a peaceful slumber. How childish it was for him to believe he could somehow catch a certain raindrop in his hands.

Turning up toward the drab sky, he searches through the endless and identical droplets that fall down and leave trails along his face.

No, not yet. Perhaps they have yet to see all that the sky has to offer.

Neuvillette returns his focus to the path in front of him. The rhythmic clacks of his shoes match with the soft drumming of the rain, and in the midst of this harmony a voice singings out:

“Hydro dragon… uh… Hydro dragon, don’t cry.”

Halting his stride. Judging by the unfamiliarity of their tongue pronouncing the lullaby, Neuvillette deduces they must be a visitor to Fontaine.

Ah that local legend, just how far has it spread? Nevertheless, an unfortunate traveler who’s unfamiliar with Fontaine’s seasons is now caught in this rain.

It would only be polite to offer them some assistance as the Iudex of this nation. Thus, he turns in the direction of the call.

His suspicions were confirmed once his gaze landed on a distressed frame, their face obscured by the jacket they held over their head in a makeshift umbrella.

It only took a few steps for the towering man to make it to their side.

“There is a tree you can take shelter under just ahead,” he advises the lost traveler.

Now aware of his presence in front of them, they lifted the jacket from their line of sight to peer up at him. Revealing the details of their face to lilac eyes for the first time.

That was all it took for the symphony of rain to come to an end.

Soft drumming decrescendos into tranquility. It seems as if there will be an earlier welcome of flowers.

“Oh?” You gaze up at the azure hue now peeking out from receding gray, astonishment reflected in the glimmer of your eyes.

You’ve only heard of a local Fontainian legend from a guide pamphlet offered to tourists as you awaited the Aquabus.

When the rain suddenly began to pour as you ambled about a riverside, in a moment of desperation as you scrambled for shelter under a thin jacket you uttered the phrase.

You weren’t sure if the hydro dragon could understand your botched pronunciation, but it looks like he did.

Turning back to face the kind stranger, you wanted to convey your amazement to him. But the words fade just off the tip of your tongue when you peek back at the towering man.

Your eyebrows scrunch together as dumbstruck eyes widen at the sight of the drenched man.

“Mister?… Are you alright?” You scan over him, turning your attention away to sift through your pockets.

How bewildering it must be for you to witness a well-dressed and noble figure drenched to the bone. However, Neuvillette made no attempt to stop the rivulets rolling down his cheeks, a parting gift from the Spring showers.

He wonders as his gaze never left your frame, were tears perhaps this warm too?

“Here.” Your concern-ridden hand offers up a neatly folded handkerchief to the drenched man.

As your eyes connect with his, a strange sensation tickled the back of your mind. As if it was trying to recall where you’ve seen the familiar lavender hue.

Maybe they matched the shade of a flower field you stumbled upon during your travels, or maybe that lilac luster was revealed to you in a dream.

A strange familiarity you couldn’t name.

“Thank you very much.” He accepts the simple piece of cloth with tenderness rivaling that of conservators handing the renowned paintings of old masters.

The clouds were long gone by now, perhaps they felt that their purpose had long been fulfilled. The golden rays of a lone star shone with all their brilliance, finally free from behind their blanket of drap clouds.

It was only now that Neuvillette found out. The rain he had been yearning for all these years did in fact see all that the sky had to offer.

They had grown bored of drifting over vast plains, missing the picturesque countryside of Fontaine. Or perhaps their curiosity grew too great, wishing to finally hear a truth that was kept from them.

So much so, they quietly fell down from the sky, to return to his side again.

Much like the hands in a clock, the cycle of water and earth follows a similar circular path.

The rain had eroded away stubborn earth with its diligent drumming over the years.

Bit by bit and piece by piece until stone fractures into bits of sand. Over and over until a sandy beach was formed by the side of a patient sea.

Then the tide will reunite with its long-awaited shore, to return the sand and promise it cradled within its waves for so long.

~Fin

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS.

#vivalabunbunfics #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette #genshin impact x reader #genshin angst #genshin fluff #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #neuvillete x reader #neuvilette x reader #neuvillette fluff #neuvillette angst #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #neuvillette headcanons #neuvillette x y/n #neuvilette x you

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pinktom · 4 months

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i was smeared on twitter! xD

This morning, I was delighted with a series of fascinating screenshots.

I'm being smeared on Twitter! By someone I don't know, who hasn't even read Lover's Spit, because I do not want to spoil aspects of my own fic.

And it didn't stop there, friends!

Obviously you can tell by the "18 Likes" there were at least 19 people outing themselves as haters. 😔

Let's be clear: if you're twiggered 👉👈 by seeing Tom Riddle bottom, block me and move on

Not because I'm out here publishing smut left and right (I'm not even a smut writer), but because there is absolutely no way you could possibly enjoy my content if you're a fixed shipper.

Is it about who tops and who bottoms? I don't know. Really, at least half of the time, I prefer top!Tom. My enjoyment of a fic is not contingent on whether one character or the other gets dicked down. Of my top favorite fanfics that I can think of offhand, Tom doesn't even bottom in any of them.

That said—I am drawn to stories where Tom Riddle is in a central role, and nobody fixated on bottom!Harry could ever possibly deliver. So yeah please go ahead and block me. ಠ_ಠ

Also, the accusation that I "want engagement" is goofy

If I was driven by engagement, the fic would be straightforwardly on the Top Tom tag, feature a lot of smut, and probably have twice as many hits.

I don't write for engagement; of the 6 fics I have published, 2 are rated G and only half of them even have ship tags at all.

And regarding Lover's Spit specifically, it would absolutely spoil the story if I went on Tumblr rambling about how they're going to fuck. I have more respect for the lovely people who read the story as it is than random potential readers who feel they cannot engage with a story on the off chance their t/b preferences aren't met after 150K of non-smut content.

Yes, fixed shipping preferences can be sexist and homophobic

If your preferences are informed by your belief that Tom Riddle is "too powerful" to ever bottom (!!!) and "submit" to Harry, you're embarrassing and regressive.

You're tacitly admitting that women—that people without penises—are fixed in a state of submission; and you're also insinuating the same of gay men who prefer to bottom.

Sex is a lot of things - not just a power exchange. Sex, as I see it, is about intimacy, vulnerability, and expressing love. That is how I write it, and why I do not want to share "spoilers" about how sex will play out in my fic.

Ultimately this slander is just the product of entitlement

Though Lover's Spit has a lovely, inspiring, and engaged bevy of readers, it is by no means a popular fic. It's a wee little niche fic.

I can see no reason why someone would bother publicly slandering me except that they're just deeply entitled and butt-hurt that I'm not complying to their whims, even though I am a teensy weensy small-time fic writer with no following whatsoever. It's so batshit.

If fixed shipping matters to you, block writers who don't tag. Simple as that.

Anything you'd like to add my dear @k3uuu?

#lover’s spit #tomarry #harry potter #tom riddle #harrymort #tmrhp

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cheapshrimpysheep · 8 months

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A Break Under The Lights

SUMMARY: You suggest taking turns for some to rest while others peel potatoes on the boat. You can choose who will pair up with you outside to enjoy the boat lights under the night sky.

CHARACTERS: Port Fest Steering Committee (Floyd, Ruggie, Rook & Jack)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Flirting; Kissing

WARNING: Spoilers from the Port Fest Event; Vignettes from Floyd's Port Wear and Rook's Port Wear

WORD COUNT: An average of 600 words per character.

COMMENTS: I wanted to write something for this event, but I couldn't remember anything. Until I finished the story and saw what they said about the lights on the boat. That was asking to write something romantic about it. I didn't get Jack's card, so I don't know his vignette story. 😔 But I'm pretty happy with what I wrote. 😊

My logic for the order of the characters was: R > SR > SR > SSR

I hope you enjoy 😉

CONTEXT: You were all peeling potatoes in the hold of the boat while talking about the festival. Remembering what they say about the exterior: It’s gotten real quiet since all the guests have gone home at the end of Port Fest.

Ruggie: “The neon lights on the Golden Straw sure are pretty.”

Rook: “Oui, more dazzling then even the stars twinkling in the night sky. I believe they only turn them on for Port Fest.”

Floyd: “So today’s the last day they’ll be on, then.”

Jack: “Yeah. This’ll be our last chance to check them out until next year’s festival.”

And that's why you remembered to suggest that you take turns to rest and enjoy those lights outside. You suggest pairing up and while one pair is outside the other two continue peeling potatoes. And then you take turns. Everyone wants to be paired with you, so they let you choose who you want to be paired with.

“Looks like Koebi-chan is getting slier.” Floyd tells you with that cunning smile of his on his face. You say you don't know what he's talking about, in a tone that shows you're lying. What makes him laugh.

“The break thing was a good idea, thou. I was getting tired of those stupid potatoes.” He walks to the bow of the boat and rests his elbows on the railing as he looks out over the sea below you two.

“I heard you won a music contest.” you tell him, approaching the railing as well. “Congrats”.

“He he. Thanks~ But it was too easy. They were all amateurs.”

“You mean it was a contest for amateurs? And you didn't tell anyone you were already experienced?”

“Nobody asked. Aha ha ha ha.” The disapproving look on your face just makes him laugh harder. When his laughter calms down he adds: “Winning the contest was cool and people applauding me too. But I got pretty fed up with that shoal that wouldn't let go of me.”

“A shoal? Are you talking about literal fish or people?”

“I wish it had been fish. So I could just have eaten them. But no. I'm talking about the people who seen me play the saxophone and have been asking me to keep playing for them.” then he looks at you with that creepy smile “You wouldn't be that annoying, right Koebi-chan~?”

“Awww. I was going to ask you to play something for me. I didn't hear you play in the contest.”

“You saw me play at that concert in the end of Port Fest.” He reminds you. You try to look sad and pout at him. But it doesn't seem to work and he seemingly changes the subject. “What about you? You may not have won first, but I heard that your photo won a good place in a photography contest.”

“Hum? Ah yes. Rook was the one who won first place.”

“And he was the one on your photo, wasn't he?” there was that creepy smile again “It really was a good photo. It deserved the place.”

He gets closer to you. You take a step back and your back ends up meeting the railing of the boat. He grabs the railing, each hand blocking your way out. Looking up you could see his face and the neon lights of the boat above the two of you.

“You took pictures of me too, right?” he was smiling, a little creepily, but he wasn't showing his teeth.

“Of course I took. But I didn't get as good an angle of you as I did of Rook, unfortunately.”

“You have the camera with you, don't you?” He asks. You had. You always carried it with you like a shoulder bag. Floyd lets go of the railing. “So you can take some more now.” His good mood returned in a flash. Mood swinging as always.

You seize this opportunity. A photo of him illuminated by those neon lights at night is sure to be beautiful. You take some pictures of him, until he asks if he can try taking some pictures too. You allow it and hand the camera over to him.

He starts randomly taking pictures, until he stands behind you, with the camera in front of you to take a selfie of you bouth. His chin resting affectionately on your shoulder. He takes a photo. Then kisses your cheek. Takes another photo. And if you turn your head to let him kiss your lips, he'll take one last photo.

Ruggie stretches, his arms up high. “AHHH Freedom... For a limited period of time.” he drops his arms. “Good idea. I really needed a break.”

There are no deckchairs or anything to sit or lie on, so Ruggie just lies down in the middle of the deck with his hands behind his head. “*Sigh* I'm exhausted.” he looks at you standing next to him. “There is enough deck for two if you want to rest too. Didn't you walk around taking pictures? Besides, the neon lights are really pretty seen from here.”

You decide to accept Ruggie's offer and lie down next to him. He was right. Those neon lights with the night sky behind it was really a beautiful sight.

“I heard a photo of yours won a place in that photography contest. Congrats.” he smiles at you. “Did you gain anything else from it?”

“Nah. Just that honourable mention I guess.”

“Not even a free snack? Man, what a prize... You know, if the picture had been of me, maybe I'd have considered giving you a waffle with whatever topping you wanted, for free.”

“Really? Oh, wait. The key word here is considered, isn’t it?”

“Shye hee hee. You're getting to know me too well.”

He's messing with you, so you decide to mess with him too.

“Well, maybe that's why I took that picture of Rook and not of you.”

“Oh yeah?” he sulks a little and his ears tip back. “What did he offer you in return? A bunch of praise?” he looks at you with a mocking expression.

“Better that than a possibility of waffle that in the end I might not even get to have.”

“Fine. I would definitely give you a plain waffle. Better?”

“For free?”

“Yah, for free. Too bad you didn't take a picture of me.”

“Actually, I took some pictures of you too. They just weren't the ones to win the contest.”

“Hmm? Really? Shye hee hee... I can see them?”

You always carried it with you like a shoulder bag. You take it and show the pictures to him. The best one was one you took from him while he was "playing" the broom. He smiles when he sees it. Then he has an idea.

He sits up, while you're still lying down, then turns to you and takes a picture of you. You ask what he's doing as he looks at the picture he just took.

“You have a lot of good pictures of me. It's only fair that I have at least one good picture of you in return. Send me this later will ya? Shye hee hee.”

“Do I still get the free waffle if I send you the pictures?”

“Hey, that was if the photo won something in the contest.” he reminds you. You pout for a second, but accept it. “*Sign* You really are such a goody-goody sometimes.” He leans over and kisses your cheek. “There. How's that for a prize? And for the photos.”

If you say it's not enough, he'll answer with a smirk: “Looks like I'm not the only greedy one here. But that's a higher price. You'll have to let me take more pictures of you in return.”

You agree and he lies down again beside you on deck to kiss your lips.

“Ah, it's so good to be able to enjoy these dazzling neon lights.” Rook inhales as if the scent of the sea is a breath of fresh air. “Merci, Trickster! Et merci for choosing me as your partenaire dans le crime.” he looks at you with his sly smile.

“Crime? What do you mean? Now it's a crime to want a little break to appreciate these lights?” You say, pretending badly that you feel offended. “You yourself said that they only turn them on for Port Fest. We must seize this moment.”

He laughs. “I certainly agree with you.”

You start walking towards the railing at the bow of the boat, leaving Rook behind you. You stop and look back when you hear the sound of a photo being taken. You see Rook holding his digital camera pointed at you and with a smile on his face.

“What are you doing?” you ask

“Exactly what it looks like.” he answers casually “I'm taking pictures of you.”

“Well, yes, I can see that, but what for?”

“Mainly for myself, but if you want me to send them to you it will be my pleasure.” You get flattered and he takes another picture of you. “Beauté~” he whispers to himself before turning back to speak to you. “Unfortunately, I didn't have many opportunities to take pictures of you during the festival. My attention was already quite divided between the food stand and photo ideas for the contest. Although I know that any photo with you as the subject would be beautiful.”

You never know what to say when he starts to praise you like that. He starts walking towards you.

“These lights, this place, this moment are beautiful. And ephemeral. So could I ask you for something très spécial, my dear Trickster?” While one hand holds the camera, the other takes your hand and he leans slightly in a bow to you. “Would you be so kind to model for me on this deck? I'm sure all the photos will be magnifique.”

You take your time to answer, but you end up agreeing. And when you do he kisses the back of your hand. “Merci beaucoup mon cher!”

He asks you to act casually, to lean against the railing as if enjoying the view of the sea, to sit on top of a barrel or even on the deck, to stretch your arms as if you want to reach the neon lights. And every time he comments on how beautiful the photo and you are.

Later, towards the end of the photo session, he takes the hat off his head and puts it on yours. “I had an idea.” And then you see him take off his coat, leaving him in just that tight shirt with the blue and white stripes. He puts his coat on your shoulders like a cape. And keeps taking pictures of you.

“I fear our time is running out.” he says sadly after taking several pictures of you in his hat and coat. “Merci encore, Trickster. Each photo is more beautiful than the last. You were so very kind to let me take pictures of you. I wonder...” he gets closer to you and places his index and thumb on your chin, with that smirk on his face. “what kind of thanks you would most like to get from me.”

If you let him, he will kiss your lips. You will feel the smile on his lips and the adoration he has for you. And you will hear one last sound of a photograph being taken by your side.

“Hey, um, I'm sorry I got you into this mess too.” Jack tells you, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It's okay.” you tell him “Well, I'm not a big fan of peeling potatoes, but at least it allowed me to be here with you.” you smile at him, and he gets flattered. “This neon lights are really pretty. And you said this will be our last chance to check them out until next year’s festival, right?”

“Yeah, we should make the most of them. I'll just go get us some drinks. You must be thirsty too.” He leaves you on deck for a minute and when he comes back he hands you your favourite fresh juice.

You thank him and show him how very happy you are that he knows your favourite flavour of juice. He gets flattered again while saying it's nothing. You two go to the bow rail. You can see how the neon lights reflect in the sea water.

“I heard you won a spot in the photo contest. I'm no photography expert, but I thought the photo was pretty good. Congrats.” He smiles at you, that big smile like he's proud of you.

“Thank you. And you were amazing on the show.” you see him rub the back of his neck as he thanks you. “I also took some pictures of you, you know?”

“Y-you did?!”

You finish your drink and grab your camera to show Jack the pictures. He is so flattered he could blush. And then you show him one you took from him without his coat "playing" the dustbin. You took the photo from the top, and he was smiling so happily that you tell him it's your favourite picture. You leave him speechless of how flattered you make him. And then you look at the boat with those neon lights at night.

“Hey, can I take some more here?” you ask him. “The deck is so pretty with these lights.”

“You want more pictures of me?! Hmm... I... guess that's okay.” His tail is wagging like crazy.

After taking so many photos of the boys, you've already started to realize that the best photos, especially in the case of people like Jack, are the ones where they are more relaxed, not focusing on the camera. So you chat with him and making him more comfortable, only taking pictures here and there.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” He asks you, more comfortable around the camera. “Could we take a picture together? I would like to have something to remind me of this moment.” he says this slightly embarrassed.

You agree and even say it's a great idea. You would love to have a photo with him from that moment too. You decide to put the camera down to take a self-timer photo. But then you think that maybe it's a good idea to let the camera take several pictures, remembering that the best ones are the ones you forget about the camera. And you tell Jack that.

For the first photo you have one arm around each other. Then Jack remembers to take his hat off and put it on your head. He laughs at how cute you look in such a big hat. After that he ends up doing the same with the coat when he sees that you seem to be getting a little cold. It's also way too big on you which just makes you look even cuter in his eyes. His tail goes back to wagging wildly.

You can't take anymore how sweet he is being with you. And you make a gesture for him to bend down as if you were going to whisper something in his ear. But instead, you surprise him with a kiss on the cheek. And he feels entitled to do the same to you.

And if you keep teasing him like this, he'll pick you up so your faces are level and allow you to kiss his lips.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

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nerd-on-duty · 3 months

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Tatort Saarbrücken (Spatort) English subtitles - 2024 edition (episodes 1-5)

For all international fans who want to watch Tatort Saabrücken (of annual tumblr trending fame) but don't speak German, fear not:

Send me a DM and I can send you a link for English subs :)

(Please do not send asks as I can't post them publicly and I've had the unfortunate experience of privately posted ones eating links or disappearing into the tumblr void, never to be seen again...)

For return customers: as of today (04 Feb 2024) the newest episode (#5 - Der Fluch des Geldes (FdG)) is now live! The Drive link is still the same and the ReadMe has been updated as well, so check that out for links and guides as always.

And as always: THIS IS AN UNOFFICIAL FAN PROJECT THAT I DO AS A HOBBY - PLEASE DO NOT POST THE LINK OR THE FILES PUBLICLY!

More info under the cut

You can pass them along to other people privately (though please also ask them not to post them and to let anyone else they'd like to share them with know as well!), but I really don't want any beef with the channel (which is publicly funded and can afford far fancier lawyers than me, who is none-funded and can afford no lawyers) because these are not official in any capacity nor do I want to leave anyone with the impression that these could be official. They're a simple homemade attempt at letting non-German-speaking fans participate in the epic highs and lows of Spatort because there currently are no official English subtitles. Any mistakes are entirely my own, I don't own any of the copyrights to Tatort or any of their characters or plots, yadda yadda.

That being said, if you notice any typos, translation errors, missing or out of date links or anything else, please do let me know so I can update the files accordingly!

As I've gotten a few messages this year apologizing for being late: if anyone sees this in the future - yes, this is still up to date. You can shoot me a message at any time of the year and I will get back to you as soon as I can (usually within 24-48 h). If you still haven't heard from me after a week (especially if there's still new posts coming in on the blog) feel free to poke me again - I promise I'm not ignoring you, I most likely just haven't seen the notification.

If you want to filter spoilers for the new episode in the meantime, block #spatort spoilers to avoid seeing them on this blog (I generally use this tag for posts related to new episodes in between the official release and uploading the subtitles)

#tatort saarbrücken #spatort #tatort subtitles #spatort subtitles #der fluch des geldes #die kälte der erde #das herz der schlange #der herr des waldes #das fleißige lieschen #fdg #kde #hds #hdw #dfl #in the unlikely event that this blog should go dead entirely:#there are loads of people out there by now who have the link #a post on the Spatort tag that you're looking for the link but I'm no longer responding should be enough for the right people to find you

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dragonheart2497 · 10 months

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things twitter migrants may find useful that dont often get included in "how to tumblr" posts

1- queueing!

instead of feeling bad for spam-reblogging and clogging up other people's feeds, you can click the dropdown and add it to your queue instead!

you can edit how many times a day your queue posts, and between what hours. You can easily re-order or completely shuffle your queue as well!

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REBLOG STUFF. Tumblr doesn't run on an algorithm!! YOU are responsible for putting cool stuff onto your followers feeds!

"but if i reblog too much people can't see my posts!" i have just the thing for you

2- personal tags

You can have different tags you use on your blog to help people navigate! for example, i use "dh rb art" when I reblog art and "dh rb" for most other reblogs- that's so that people can filter my reblogs out of their feeds if they dont wanna see that, and only want my original posts to show up.

On the other hand, my art is tagged "dh2497" so they can easily search my account for it!

If you open a person's blog and click the search button, a list of Featured Tags will show up. By default this is just the blogger's most used tags, but you can customize what shows up on yours in your blog settings

You can follow entire hashtags too! if you wanna see hermitcraft fanart without following every hermitcraft artist, follow the tag :D

3- Filtering

Tumblr actually hides things you don't wanna see, very nicely!

In your account settings, you can filter specific tags, and even specific words that show up in the post.

sometimes different bloggers warning tag differently (i do [trigger] tw or [content] cw) so you can try to input every variant, but if its something you really want to avoid just put it in the post content as well. Blocklists aren't really a tumblr thing, so if you wanna avoid an entire community you can block their tag as well

NEVER. CENSOR. YOUR WARNINGS. PLEASE. On twitter or tiktok or wherever, you may have to do that or else the algorithm suppresses it- THERES NO ALGORITHM HERE!!! if someone reblogs your post, it will show up for others, don't worry!!! you're just bypassing filters placed for people's safety, if you censor words.

Also! don't worry too much if a word you wanna filter is commonly used in unrelated contexts- tumblr doesn't remove it entirely, but rather adds a 'spoiler' so that you have to click on it to view it. So just in case it is what you want to avoid, you have time to prepare to see it.

4- effective tagging

[read more in detail here] Only the first 5 tags will show up for people who follow the hashtag. That makes them the most important! Then, the first 20 tags will make the post show up when searching that tag. The rest of them do not give your post any visibility.

I see a lot of people reblogging art with fanart tags- that can be useful for searching back the tag in the reblogger's blog specifically, but doesn't actually give the OP more visibility in that tag.

You'll learn what tags to use by checking the content you come across! most communities are "[word]blr", and most fanart goes "#[character/show] fanart". tumblr tags can have spaces!

Lastly, a few notes

you will only have 1 PRIMARY blog. this will appear when you like a post, comment on a post, or follow a blog. your sideblogs will not link back to your primary blog, but you cannot do those interactions as those sideblogs.

artists love receiving compliments when you reblog!! commenting does NOT boost the post. most people put their compliments in the TAGS of their reblog, so that it doesn't become a long post/thread, and if people reblog the reblog of your reblog you won't keep gettings notifications about it. The artist will still see and very much appreciate it

read up on tumblr etiquette, do not treat this place like twitter or you'll be disliked lol. there are some 'big blogs' but follower counts aren't public, popularity isn't a contest here. make friends, or just block/ignore people you don't get along with. no one cares about your petty arguments

if you noticed the lil cat in my screenshots, that's from a very useful browser extension called XKit!! it enables 1-click queue reblogs (automatically adding your tags), mass-post editing, and lots of other great tweaks vanilla tumblr doesn't have! and the cat is a silly cute thing you can enable in it as well

#hermitblr #trafficblr #empiresblr #hermittwt #traffictwt #how to use tumblr #how to tag on tumblr #tumblr help #i didnt mean for this to be a whole tutorial thing but if it helps one person it's worth the hour i spent on this

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moremousewrites · 12 days

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Through your Eyes

Pairing: Astarion/Tav (gn)

Request link

Summary: Your companions had a difficult time understanding what exactly you saw in Astarion. It seemed as though you were polar opposites. When you meet a young girl named Yenna, the camp starts to consider that maybe there's more to Astarion than they realized

Tags: Fluff, comfort

A/N: thank you for the request! They don't explicitly make a comment about letting Yenna stay with them but it's implied at the end. There's also some spoilers about the game but nothing too revealing.

Astarion had a reputation in camp for being a bit rough around the edges. Well, moreso that he was a manipulative jerk with no regards to other's feelings. You didn't share that opinion at all and your party was not sure why.

It isn't as though they hated him, just that he was sort of impossible. And what seemed more impossible was your love for him. You had sacrificed time and time again for total strangers- ones Astarion encouraged you to abandon and yet you couldn't stand to be apart for even a moment.

It made everyone a bit uneasy. Except Lae'zel who just thought you had a death wish and it was irritating to watch you put yourself in danger. But you trusted Astarion, he'd shown you that you could, even after he confessed his ulterior motives to you, you knew he was trying to survive just like you.

In Rivington, a child named Yenna asked for your help. The companions you traveled with knew Astarion was not a fan of children, he'd made that clear. They expected him to shoo the child away, until you helped her and he… approved? No snarky comments, no chastising. He thought you were doing something right.

It came as a bigger shock when she asked to stay with you at camp and Astarion said nothing of it. She wasn't the first stray you'd let in your camp. He'd made a fuss about Arabella. But it seemed your generosity was rubbing off on him.

Still, the camp wasn't convinced.

“I don't mean to doubt their wisdom, but it seems like an odd choice to trust him” Gale whispered to Shadowheart.

Shadowheart shrugged. “They're an adult. Besides, if we say anything we'll probably drive them closer together” she said, watching you help Yenna set up her things. Astarion offered a pet to Yenna's cat but it evaded him, looking very skittish.

“You're not wrong, I just don't understand what they have in common. Tav is so selfless and he's… Astarion” Gale mused. Rainclouds formed in the sky, blocking the sun. Your companions built their tents in preparation.

But Yenna looked very pale. Night came and the storms became violent. Wind blew the rain sideways and thunder exploded over the camp. You stayed with her in the barn, holding her as she shook like a leaf. Astarion brought extra blankets from your tent, giving you some warmth while you waited out the storm.

He could tell the young girl was terrified. It was a novel thing for him to see someone so scared and want to help. It wasn't something he'd go out of his way to do, but you were so caring and seemed important that he tried; for you.

“Yenna, would you like to hear a story about when Tav was scared?” He asked, a sincerity in his voice he rarely showed. Yenna nodded and bundled up more. Astarion began regaling her in stories of your adventures, painting a dramatic picture of you trembling in horror but gaining the courage to strike down your foes.

Gale had to leave his tent, nature was calling and the sound of the rain was not helping. As he made his way to the edge of the woods, he heard a sound through the heavy rainfall. It sounded like a child's laughter. There you were, holding Yenna in your lap, and watching intently as Astarion made animated gestures and scary monster noises. Gale was in shock. This couldn't be the same vampire that nagged at you for helping the children at the grove. Surely he was some doppelganger sent by Orin.

But it had to be him. Orin wouldn't have acted so out of character. This perplexed Gale. He left to the woods, doing what he initially set out to. And when he returned, Yenna was asleep in your arms. Astarion looked into your eyes, sharing some thought only the two of you would know. Gale waited, wondering if perhaps you knew this side of Astarion that he did not. Perhaps he had changed for the better. For you.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader

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undermine-the-instinct · 7 months

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Title: Rest Now

Warnings: HUGE spoiler. Not outright said but insinuated. Wc: 526

Drabble bc of the new jjk leaks, block all necessary tags if you don't want spoilers

Gojo loves you.

He's never truly admitted it but he wishes that's the only thing he was allowed to do; love you and love you and make his loving be known. And now….now he can do just that.

Your name is the only thing he has ever said softly, the only secret he has ever whispered into the cool air of dawn, more for himself than you.

You hear it anyway, and stir awake.

"Satoru…?"

"I'm here." He's not selfless enough to tell you to go back to sleep, he pulls back your covers and slips in, curling around you like a parenthesis.

"Its late…"

"Yeah, sorry I took so long." The heat of you seeps into him, delicious and slow.

"I just got here."

"Always working, you," and you drag him in for a kiss.

Gojo has read a lot of poetry– for his studies of course but also because of you. He thinks he dreamt of you in a dream; sweet and honeyed and smooth. You melt into him and sigh when you pull back, content.

"Do you have any work today?"

"No, I don't have to work for a while now. We can sleep in for as long as we want."

"What about your coworkers?"

"I'm sure they won't mind," he grins cheekily.

"And what about your kids, Gojo Satoru? Won't they miss you?" His kids. His kids. Already so far away, the bridge between them spreads wide, and even Gojo Satoru's eyes don't see well enough into the fog, or future.

If they are his kids, then they'll be fine. And if not, he'll see the rest of them soon, where blue summers never end and the sunlight dapples your skin the softest of golds.

"Yeah, they will. But you missed me more, didn't you?" How long has it been? How long has it been since he last saw your face, the downward tug of your mouth, every individual lash of your eyes, grown darker by the tears that glisten there? Your hands wrap around him, nails digging into his nape to keep him there, and the tears start to fall.

"What took you so long, Satoru?" And you're selfish too, to wait and hold him here, but he indulges you, as he always has. Maybe that's why you're like this, maybe he rubbed off on you. You didn't wait for him to live out a meaningful life and then come back to you as a memory--you were waiting for him to join you already.

"Sorry," he breathes a laugh. It hitches at the end.

"Our flight got delayed."

"That's not an excuse…!"

"Sorry. Sorry!" The only God he'd apologize to, the only altar he'd want to prostrate himself to is yours. He kisses you, again, and shudders into your mouth, the taste of you all at once familiar and foreign and absolving. You trace the knobs of his spine through his clothes, thumb at the goosebumps that rise on his neck.

"I'm going to make it up to you. However long it takes.

"We've got time now."

"I missed you Satoru. So much…"

"Yeah….I missed you too. I'm here now."

#my stuff #my writing #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk spoilers #jujutsu kaisen spoiler #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #Gojo #Gojo Satoru #Gojo x reader #Gojo Satoru x reader #gojo x gn!reader #gojo x gender neutral reader #drabble #spoilers #fluff

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punkascas · 3 months

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okay, so i don't want to, like, Start Something or whatever so we're doing a barely-tagged, separate post. i also realise this is mostly pointless because others have already said what i'm going to say, and did it better, with far more grace, and sound less like an asshole than i do.

but jesus louise helen christ, the weird fucked up ideas people have around abuse and personal responsibility and the effect of trauma. like as an abuse and csa survivor, it genuinely alarms me to read posts that use arguments i remember my dad making. like, i'm assuming most of this rhetoric comes from gen z — maybe that's inaccurate; maybe that's unfair. but right now i'm very much Having A Moment Here that the kids aren't alright.

no 22-year-old should be repeating the same awful, manipulative, logically and morally bankrupt justifications for violence and torture my dad says. like literally what's in the first two episodes of ofmd s2 is torture.

i love ed; he's an amazing character. taika is hella wowza top marks acting him. but like.

like.

torture, my dude. physical and psychological. trauma. harassment. that we see the lasting effects of through s2.

just. i. what??

so here we go, okay. have too many, zealously highlighted screenshots so i can dig into details.

cut to save your dashes. content warning for discussions of abuse and trauma (if that wasn't obvious), as well as spoilers for ofmd s2.

re: ed knew what he was doing was wrong and felt guilty about it at the time:

we have no on-screen, textual examples of this. not in the dialogue; not in the acting; not in the blocking; not in the cinematography or music. nothing.

knowing the crew are overworked and kind of traumatised by all the violence, ed bribes them with cake. because, as we know, cake like tea fixes everything. only ed wasn't even with them to share in the eating of the cake. he made izzy responsible for that. he doesn't give the crew a break; he doesn't choose less ethically-fraught prizes to hunt. there is not one scene of ed talking directly to the crew — until he points a gun at each of them.

we see ed crying (and drinking, and rhino horn-ing [way to help further extinction, man]) but it's always paired with shots or flashbacks that reference stede. ed is still all up in his feelings about stede, and ed confirms this when he tells frenchie the myth about albatrosses never needing to return to land. ed cannot go back, does not want to go back, because he was rejected. (like, stede is literally landed gentry, come on!) all he wants to do instead is stay at sea committing to this unhinged version of unstable, sadistic piracy.

but okay, okay. say we ignore all of that. let's say ed does feel sorry and guilty and ashamed of his actions. he knows what he's doing is wrong and unfair and cruel. that it's harming others. that it's particularly harming the dude that ed has, for better or worse, basically spent his life with (izzy; i mean izzy). ed… still continues to do the things! how far off are we at this point from the definition of malicious? you know action x hurts person b and then you do it anyway. is that honestly a better, happier, more ethically defensible reading of the character?

re: the crew didn't mutiny because they love ed despite his violent, sadistic actions.

mutinies were a thing, yes. but both historically and in the world rules established by the show, mutiny is disincentivised through threats, distraction via extra work, and corporeal punishment. we see both ed and izzy use all three of these to try to prevent the crew from disobeying orders. they didn't wait until the storm and izzy shooting ed to mutiny because they understood or sympathised with ed; they took the chance to kill him then because that was the first real opportunity they'd had. the reward finally out-weighed the risk given that ed was going to kill them all that night anyway.

again, we have no scenes, no dialogue, no visual or audio cues to tell us that the crew understands or loves ed — excluding izzy, obviously. fang could also be on that list, if you take into account his personality and his behaviour both in s1 and later in s2 in the fishing boat scene. but in the first two episodes, we only see the crew show trauma responses around ed. they talk about him but almost never to him. and when they do have a direct conversation with ed, it is either confrontation or head down, submissive, "of course, blackbeard; anything you say" placating. i'm so baffled where the show points to any sign of love from the crew towards ed before his "death".

re: ed can't be held responsible because he was suicidal.

uhm. no. hard no. a harder no than stede's brazilian cherry wood mast. fucked up people do fucked up things but part of being an adult is owning your fucked-upped-ness and not fucking up others while you work on unfucking yourself. children, children are not fully responsible for the impact of their actions on others when they're deep in their feelings, especially if they're feeling their feelings as a trauma response. this is because literally their brain cannot do that kind of control. it doesn't have that software pack installed yet. ed does have all the adult updates installed, even if he isn't running them at that moment. he has no right to take out his feelings on other people: to maim them, to psychologically torture them, to abuse them, to work them to exhaustion. to kill them. he does not get a free pass to do suicide by abused employees. (like suicide by cop but more indirect and passive and harmful.) talk about passive aggressive.

secondly, ed is not just passively suicidal and happy to find new risks that might end his life. he is very purposefully taking izzy with him (see: literally removing the bits of izzy that would help let him walk away from ed; the fact that ed becomes actively suicidal only once he thinks izzy is dead; the whole keeping izzy's corpse in front of his and stede's beach shack i mean inn — the codependence, she runs deep). ed is also putting the crew through the same risks, the same isolation, the same danger. both stede and izzy agreed that ed had gone full scorched earth policy. you don't get forgiven for the murder part of a murder-suicide pact just because of the suicide part. not to mention that no one (once again, you could potentially argue izzy as an exception) was good on a murder-suicide pact with blackbeard.

and then to say the crew felt guilty? i assume i'm misreading that. the crew. felt guilty. for ed's actions. that is, if not victim blaming and if not darvo, a very close inbred cousin of them. like hapsburg jaw inbred close.

re: ed healing and his view of himself as a monster.

to heal means, in part, to accept responsibility for the harm you've caused, whether it was intentional or not. it means making amends. it means building or rebuilding relationships where possible. it means putting the other person or persons' feelings and boundaries and need for safety above your desire for absolution or forgiveness. it means working through your own guilt and shame and anger (or whatever drove you to act the way you did) in a separate space, not with the people you hurt, but someone who can be a step removed, more impersonal and objective to help you reflect and face hard truths as needed. i say this as both someone involved in activism and community reparations and as an abuse survivor who has done nearly 30 years of therapy learning this in order to not hurt people. it's not ed's fault he's fucked up just like it isn't my fault i am. but it is on me, like it is on anyone, to make sure i limited as much as possible the harm i can cause to others because i learned some awful but very effective tricks at a young age to survive.

ed does not really do any of the above. he doesn't say "sorry". he speaks in generalised language. he complains about the cat bell (which he seems to wear only for one day, given the implied timeline with lucius and pete's engagement). i have a model ship on a stand that says "this is a safe space ship" as a joke because i work for the government and have written press releases that sound just like ed's "apology". where you take no responsibility and encourage "the culture" to move on.

so, really, my question becomes: ed sees himself as a monster. in s1, we had enough balance between ed's current actions and his referenced past actions to see this belief as likely untrue. in s2 though — i mean, is it? is that an unfair or inaccurate belief? i can understand how carrying that belief can get in the way of ed's growth and eventual healing but like. from an outside perspective of ed-the-fictional-character. he's not a "good" person. he's capable of and has done and continued to do horrible, cruel things. ethically, can you argue with that statement about him?

re: ed trying to destroy relationships because of his self-worth issues and instead the consequences of his actions proving that he's loved.

this is the point that made me go: right, no, i need to respond. i need to say my piece about this. izzy and the crew suffering ed's violent tyranny and then sticking around on the revenge anyway afterwards is not a sign of love. it is not showing love to bear pain for someone. it not showing love to let someone mistreat you, threaten you, hurt you, maim you. their actions are selfish and done to give them feelings of power and control over you. lying back and thinking of england to get through it is not love. it is absolutely a survival technique. but it is not love when you do it at the expense of yourself or others.

i also disagree that ed was trying to push people away or break his relationships with others. we know from s1 that ed is fairly blasé about whether crew members die. again, we don't see any friendly or intimate exchanges between ed and any of the crew to imply any kind of relationship there beyond "tools who accomplish ed's goals". the one exception, as always, is izzy. and as previously stated, ed seems bound and determined, in a very conscious way, to bring izzy into death with him. ed does everything in his power to make izzy want to kill ed, or at least agree that it's best if ed dies, and to want to kill himself so ed doesn't have to die alone. that isn't ed breaking that relationship; it's making it permanent in a really fucked up shakespearian way. the only relationship we see ed waffle between wanting to keep and wanting to push away is stede. after his corporate "apology" and the fishing trip with fang, all of ed's dialogue is with stede and a little bit with zheng until izzy's death scene. the crew loving ed just isn't a thing, at least not one we're shown. not from either side. ed's relationships are with stede and kind of, sort of with izzy (because he does manage to, if not fully break, do some major damage to that).

love did not save ed. ed wanting to live, because stede came back, because he didn't want to jump off hornigold's cliff in the first place, saved ed. izzy saved everyone else.

so yeah: that's it; that's the post. the rhetoric that abuse is love or that abuse can be "cured" with love or that trauma isn't lasting and serious and has impacts on people's daily lives is just. wild. wild.

and terrifying.

my dad was born in the 40s. why is anyone born in the 80s or later still defending this mindset? it honestly, truly freaks me out.

guess it's good i have a fucking therapy appointment on monday.

#ofmd critical #ptsd problems

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