#combined with the deep resentment I have about having to take responsibility for someone else’s safety

[fruitcoops]

i feel like you write really good arguments, as a few people have brought up before, where the parties make mistakes but own up to them and acknowledge the other side. Same thing with Captain Sirius- his reprimands are always respectful. It feels mature and just well-thought out. But we know Sirius wasn't always like that, because he came to dumo's house knowing arguments=violence. Would you write a fic where Sirius learns how to argue/captain? maybe from Dumo-the-parent? Does that make sense?

Father-son bonding on this fine Thursday! I love it! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

Dumo’s phone rang halfway through his lunch, which wasn’t unusual, except for the fact that it was Sirius calling and not…well, literally anyone else. Sirius seemed rather allergic to his phone—text replies often went unanswered for an average of 3 hours, and he wasn’t sure he had ever managed to reach Sirius on the first ring. Concern flickered in his chest and he lifted it to his ear.

“H—”

“Oh, thank god,” Sirius said, breathless. “Hi, hello, it’s me—uh, it’s Sirius—and I was just calling to ask for some help because I’m the captain now—you know that, what am I doing—and I don’t have a fucking clue what to do and I’m kind of—”

“Sirius,” Dumo interrupted as soon as his astonishment faded. He had never heard Sirius say so many words in so little time. Silence fell on the other end of the line. “Sirius, are you still there?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Okay, take a deep breath, then tell me what you need.”

Another beat of quiet passed. “So, I’m the captain now.”

“You are.”

“And the guys really like you, but I don’t even know where to start, so I was hoping you could give me a hand with this.”

“With what?”

“How do I make people like me?” Sirius asked, sounding uncharacteristically timid.

Dumo paused, confused. “They already do.”

“But I’m the captain now. They have to like me more, right?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, torn between laughing and laying down to stave off a headache. “Why don’t you come over and we can talk in person, alright?”

“Right.” Sirius cleared his throat. “Right, yeah, about that.”

“Sirius. Are you—are you currently on my porch?”

“…maybe.” Dumo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s kind of cold out here.”

“You have a key.”

“I thought it would be rude to just let myself in.”

“Oh my god,” Dumo muttered, rising from his chair with a huff. The autumn wind howled as he opened the front door, stripping the trees of their leaves and turning Sirius’ cheeks vivid red as he stood on the top step with the phone still at his ear and anxiety written all over his face.

“Bonjour.”

“You can hang up the phone now.”

Sirius bit his lip and slid it back into his pocket, waiting awkwardly until Dumo motioned him inside and he hurried out of the chill. “Thanks for picking up, by the way.”

“Of course. I’ll always pick up the phone for you.” He guided him toward the kitchen with a hand on his shoulder. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

Still so polite. The coffeepot was still warm from Celeste’s late breakfast, and Sirius’ eyes grew wide at the steam curling off the top when Dumo handed him a mug to wrap his frozen hands around before sitting across from him. “Back to business. Number one: the team already likes you, and you need no help from me getting their approval. Got it?”

Sirius nodded and took a sip.

“Number two: If you ever need my help, please don’t wait on the front porch in freezing weather when you could just knock.” A sheepish smile twitched at the side of his mouth and Dumo shook his head. “I won’t be responsible for your hypothermia. Now, what did you want advice about?”

Sirius let out a slow breath. “I don’t want to be the hardass captain that everyone hates. I just—this is an amazing opportunity, but honestly I just want my friends.”

Dumo hummed, even as his heart panged. “At the risk of sounding vague, the way to do that is to not be a hardass in the first place. Be a leader instead.”

“But I have to tell them what to do—”

“—and a leader does that the right way. There’s a difference between being a leader and being a tyrant. Push them to be better, but don’t be cruel about it. Set an example through the things you do, not the things you make other people do.” He touched the back of his hand gently and Sirius’ eyes flickered over. “Don’t lead through fear, but through respect.”

“I don’t know how.”

“That’s why you called me, non?” He waited until he saw the small smile return. “Alright, how would you approach a situation where one of your teammates is lagging behind in their speed trials?”

Sirius blinked. “Tell them to do better?”

Different tactic. “How did your coaches talk to you when you lagged behind in your speed trials?”

“…told me to do better.”

Orion Black, I will break your kneecaps the next time I see you. Dumo poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. “That may have been a strategy for you, but for someone who is already trying their best, it could be very discouraging. They might resent you for trying to seem better than them.”

Sirius’ brows furrowed. “But I’m not.”

“I know. But they wouldn’t. In my opinion, the best course of action would be to ask what’s wrong, and how you can help. It might not get better overnight, but that teammate will trust that you can help them with their problem and will know that you care about them.”

“So I should just let them fail for a while?”

“You push them toward success gradually, and don’t berate them for any hiccups along the way. Failure can bring growth.”

His mouth set into a line of frustration. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’m not explaining this right,” Dumo muttered, chewing the inside of his lip. How to explain to the new leader of your team what leadership is... “Let’s put it this way. You want Pots and Harzy to run a specific play, but they don’t understand it. How do you fix it?”

Sirius started to answer, then closed his mouth and thought for a moment, staring into the depths of his coffee. “I…I would walk them through it section by section, because I know they’re smart, but they might have problems with different parts.”

Dumo wondered if the room had actually become brighter, or if the pride in his heart was just shining through into the real world. “Exactly. And afterward, when they get it right?”

“High-five and run it again.”

“Now you’re getting it!” Something more difficult... “What if Kuny and Nado won’t shut up during Coach’s breakdown?”

“Tell them to be quiet.”

“But then Nado calls you a buzzkill and starts whispering to Kuny, and giving you looks.” Sirius’ whole face fell; if Dumo wasn’t so committed to making sure he got it right, he would’ve felt bad. “What do you do, Sirius?”

“Apolo—”

“No. People don’t respect those who apologize every time they face pushback.”

“But you said I need them to like me.”

“You need them to respect you. They don’t have to like you at all hours of the day.” He poked him lightly on the chest. “It’s your job to keep the team in line, now, and that means being a bit of a buzzkill sometimes. Not an asshole. Just a leader. What do you do if they start whispering about you?”

Sirius scrunched his nose. “Tell them to cut it out again,” he said grudgingly.

“And if they don’t?”

“Can I make them run laps after the meeting?”

“Yep. How many?”

“Three, because I had to ask three times.” He frowned. “And they should run at separate times, otherwise they’ll keep talking. God, they really don’t shut up, do they?”

That’s rich coming from you, Mr.-Chats-with-Pots-24/7. He decided to keep his thoughts to himself—that wasn’t what today was about. “Good job, Sirius.”

“Really?”

“Oui. If you lay down the rules early, you won’t have to keep correcting mistakes. They won’t want to disappoint you in the first place.”

“I don’t want to disappoint them,” he said quietly.

“You won’t.” If there was one thing Dumo was sure of, it was that Sirius would be the best captain the Lions ever had. “Ready for the toughest part?”

“Yes?”

“Are you ready?” he asked again.

Sirius swallowed, then nodded. “Yes.”

“I don’t like the way you’re captaining this team.”

From the look on his face, Dumo might as well have whacked him over the head with a spatula. “What?”

“I don’t think you have the guts.”

A combination of hurt and anger flashed in his eyes. “Hey!”

Dumo prodded him on the shoulder. “You’re not going to be able to stick up for yourself when it comes down to it. You can’t say no to your friends.”

“I can!”

“Then do it,” he challenged. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re—” Sirius pressed his lips together and stood up. “Fuck you. I came to you for help—”

Dumo rose as well, leaning forward half an inch. “Then tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you can captain the shit out of this team.”

“You’re wrong!”

“Say it like you mean it!”

“You’re wrong!” Sirius repeated as his jaw set, louder. “I’m going to captain the shit out of this team and fuck you for thinking I can’t!”

“But I don’t like it!” Though they were both shouting at each other, Sirius’ defensiveness and timidity in the face of conflict were nowhere to be found.

“That’s not my problem!” His cheeks were turning pink again, but not from the cold. “I’m the captain, so you either listen to me or tell me what the hell your problem is!”

“There you go!” Dumo cheered, stepping around the table to crush him in a hug. “That was perfect.”

Sirius went still with befuddlement. “What?”

“You didn’t believe you could captain this team until just now, did you?” He stepped back and held Sirius’ shoulders, beaming. “You just did exactly what you were supposed to do. You cannot let yourself be pushed around if you want to lead and keep your friendships strong. I am so, so proud of you.”

Sirius stared at him in shock for a moment, then moved forward again and rested his chin on Dumo’s shoulder as he pulled him in for another hug. “Thank you.”

“You are going to do great things, Sirius. I’m just glad I could help.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Dumo smiled and patted his back, giving him a squeeze. “Yes, you could. That’s how I know you will.”

#sirius black #pascal dumais #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #captain lessons #dumo

[swanqueensalad]

an unnecessary analysis of regina & rocinante

ok it’s sad about regina mills hours and i love making myself sadder so can we take a minute to think about the fact regina was told to sacrifice the heart of the thing she loves most and her instinctive first response was her horse. 

Not her father, the only actual human member of her family. She has always loved her father and been very close to him - enough to name her son after him - but her first thought, above all else, when asked ‘what do you love the most’ is her horse. 

Why Not Henry? 

First of all, I just want to dip into why she didn’t initially think of her father, because he does seem like the obvious answer. Partially, it could be that she was denying it because she couldn’t let herself consider killing him if she didn’t have to.

But I think there is another layer to it, and that’s that her father might have been all the love she had for a long time, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t resentment there, too. Her entire childhood, Henry Sr stood witness to Cora’s abuse and did nothing. Sure, he was powerless and his wife was a heart-ripping sorceress, but a six year old Regina didn’t know that. All she would have been taught was that Mother hurts her sometimes, and Daddy can’t help. He could comfort her afterwards, sure, but that is not the same thing as protecting your child. 

Then we have her marriage. Regina was very vocal about the fact she did not want it - not that she had to be, she was literally a traumatised eighteen year old engaged to an elderly stranger. There’s a flashback in 2x02 where Regina is literally crying to Henry, and we have this frankly painful exchange:

Regina: I don’t want to marry the king! I’ve told you that!”

Henry Sr: ‘Are you certain it isn’t just cold feet?’

Regina: ‘This is not cold feet, this is insanity!’

She has clearly expressed her distress to him before and been disregarded and is visibly upset. To dismiss his young daughter’s fear as ‘cold feet’ seems extremely insensitive and downright gaslight-y. I personally don’t think he means any harm by it - I think it’s just his own way of trying to shepherd her into convincing herself the situation is more normal and less scary than it is, but obviously, it totally misses the mark. Maybe it’s just too painful for him to admit just how fucked up his daughter already is, because he knows his inability to protect her enabled it. But whatever his reasoning, Regina is not validated or heard. 

After this, Regina says she feels like she’s going crazy and Cora is turning her into her. Once again, Henry tries to brush this off by telling her Cora only wants her to have a good life. Regina says, once again, she doesn’t want her life and only then does Henry actually give his daughter some real information, when she asks about Rumplestiltskin. (However, it’s Regina who takes that info and decides to seek him out for help, Henry has no hand in helping.) 

Regardless, Regina marries Leopold - a guy about his own age - and suffers, and Henry stands by and watches. 

I also do think the reason Henry stands by Regina even when she is at her absolute worst, darkest, most awful Evil Queen state is because he knows he more than owes it to her, knows it is the least he can do when he stood back and allowed it all to happen. He might have given her cuddles and as much comfort as he could, empty or otherwise, but he never did anything else. He has been loving and comforting, but in a practical sense, useless. 

And I think deep down Regina has to have some resentment for that. She loves her father, but he is sort of removed from the realities of her life. He is someone who appears on the edges, to occasionally give comfort, who also brings up a lot of repressed sadness and past memories in her. And so it’s a combination of that, and genuinely not being able to face the thought of killing him, that I think keeps her from immediately thinking of him for the curse. 

Regina, Rocinante and Daniel

So, the thing Regina assumes she loves most in the world is her horse. 

And if you look at her life closely, that’s a meaningful, reasonable assumption for her to make, but on more than just one level.

On the first level, Rocinante has been a comfort to her since she was very young. She was confirmed to be eighteen in The Stable Boy, and I think it’s safe to assume she had him for a while at that point. Horse riding is Regina’s favourite hobby, even before Daniel enters the scene - it’s a taste of freedom for her, an escape from her Mother and the constraints of growing up groomed for royalty, and also, it’s something she’s good at. (For a girl whose mother relentlessly criticises her in nearly every aspect of her life, that would mean a lot). Rocinante is her teammate in this tiny outlet of freedom and joy and self-confidence.

She rides Rocinante when she tries to run away before her wedding in 2x02. So she was allowed to bring him to Leopold’s castle with her when she got married - not only would he still be a source of comfort and attachment to that now extra elusive freedom, he is all she has to connect her to her childhood home. Through her horrible marriage, her lessons with Rumple, becoming the Evil Queen - her horse is her one other constant. 

But, on that second, deeper level, Rocinante is also her last tie to Daniel.

Her riding lessons with him made up the bulk of their time together. The rest of their relationship, I assume, would have been in secret moments by the stables, or maybe a few precious hours in which they could ride off somewhere more hidden together - Rocinante would have been present, and part of it.

It was literally Daniel’s job to look after Rocinante. He cared for him, fed him, and would have probably spent more time with him than Regina did. So in a way, Rocinante is a living, breathing connection to Daniel. 

To Conclude 

So when Regina is asked to thing of the thing you love most, her brain immediately jumps to Rocinante. I think this is because her love for her horse, unlike her love for her father, is not tainted by any resentment or pain. She loves her father the most, obviously, but that love goes hand in hand with a hell of a lot of enabled abuse and traumatic memories. 

Her love for her father is complex and messy, while her love for her horse is pure and sweet, a connection to the young version of herself who actually had hope for love and happiness. Her love for Rocinante is as this totally pure thing that’s been a source of escape for her all her life. 

And of course, when Regina thinks of love she thinks of Daniel. Until Henry (baby) comes into her life, Daniel is the only real, unconditional, ‘perfect’ love she’s ever known. And Rocinante is her last connection to that. So that’s where her mind goes. 

So yeah. Fuck Rumple when he made fun of her for that, actually.

#nobody fucking asked for this #but i'm sad and regina lives in my head rent free forever so #if u read all of this i love u lol #also i think our brains are broken in the exact same way #i just find her so interesting i could honestly write meta about every aspect of reginas life #here we are #regina mills #regina mills meta #cora mills #henry sr #longboi post #rumplestiltskin #ouat meta #ouat analysis #regina mills analysis #evil regals

[incorrectlumityquotes]

FULL REVIEWS: “Wing It Like Witches”

Damn, that last episode was something. It was so much of something that the hype for this episode didn’t come until after they released a screenshot of Amity in the grudgby uniform. Everyone predicted that this was the episode that had Amity join The Owl House squad and...they were right. 

The Lumity Trilogy ends with a sports balls game.

The cold open starts with Boscha of all people. 

It’s grudgby season again and all I can think of is “Wow how lucky is Luz to enroll in Hexside during the semester where shit happens.” Is the first semester the boring one with no holidays and/or events?

Anyway, I grew up in South Texas where high school football was treated like the biggest deal. I get why Boscha is being treated the way she is, and so does she.

Boscha goes to school expecting a hero’s welcome, but gets pissed when the attention is given to Willow.

Willow tells Luz that ever since she patched things up with Amity, she’s been feeling more confident. That’s really good character development. Without her resentment toward Amity (who was her oldest friend), Willow feels like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. All that hate and sadness was bringing her down, but without it, she’s free to blossom. 

I don’t mean to quote Penn & Teller but, “And then there’s this asshole.”

Boscha is so not okay with Willow being happy with herself and just picks on her harder. Especially since it’s grudgby season and she knows she can get away with it. 

Amity tells her to grow the fuck up, and Boscha lets it slip that ever since grom Amity has been “getting soft.” This does fucking nothing since Boscha literally spends all day following Willow and friends all day picking on them like crazy. Like damn bitch, don’t you have anything else do do? Don’t you have any life outside of Willow’s?

People ask why I don’t ship Willow and Boscha and this is why. I get enemies to lovers. I get the bully becoming the love interest. Hell, it’s happening with Amity right now. But this is too needlessly cruel for my taste. There’s not way the Defeat Equals Friendship trope is going to work here. Not for me. But hope comes in the form of a useless lesbian.

Amity literally gay panics after getting ‘nam flashbacks of dancing with the girl she likes in the moonlight. Luz asks Amity for help about Boscha, and based on Amity’s answer, I don’t think Amity has ever liked Boscha. She agrees that Boscha is difficult to tolerate. It’s even worse during grudgby season because it becomes all the thinks about. Luz gets the wrong idea from that.

After literally pelting Willow with garbage, Luz challenges Boscha to a grudgby match for Willow. Again Luz’s character flaw of overstepping her bounds comes back. She never even considers what Willow might want or the fact that Willow has never even played grudgby before in her life. And that’s when another of Luz’s character flaws comes back hard. This time it’s Luz expecting life to play out like a story, or more specifically, a sports movie.

Holy crap. Is that the thorn-vault? I’ve never noticed that before.

Luz thinks that if they just try really hard they’ll beat someone who has been excelling at the sport for years. No. That’s not how life works, sweetie. I’m starting to think that maybe Luz’s mom was on to something sending her to camp.

Luz manages to convince Willow and Gus to be on board, but Amity...

She’ll be in her bunk.

Meanwhile in the B-plot (that should be my t-shirt by now), Eda is talking about her time when she was star player of her grudgby team when Lilith makes an unexpected appearance to arrest Eda. Lilith notices that Eda is wearing her old ass grudgby uniform and Eda’s response made me laugh.

“No reason. It’s laundry day.”

Lilith gives Eda a quick reality check to remind her that while Eda was good...

Lilith was better.

This photo really confused me and took me a while to realize that that was Eda and Lilith. Lilith gave herself a serious make over after school. Straightened her hair, darkened it, got ride of the glasses. I didn’t even recognize her. 

Since we all got grudgby on the brain, Eda makes a bet. She’ll go with Lilith to The Emperor peacefully if she can beat her in a game of grudgby. Luz is always pulling stuff like this and it works out for her, so why not? Speaking of which.

Willow and Gus teach Luz about grudgby. Luz teaches Willow and Gus about montages and it does not go well at all. The grudgby, I mean. The montage was great. 

In fact it’s so bad that Willow confronts Luz about the thing I was just talking about earlier. You can’t just shonen hero through all your problems. Willow and Gus give up and just leave.

I hate comparing shows because I believe they should stand on their own, but this really does remind me of when Lotte got mad at Akko in Little Witch Academia: The Enchanted Parade. Being innocently insensitive plus expecting life to play out like a movie is not a good combo. 

Luz and Amity have a heart to heart. Luz’s character flaws do come from a place love. Willow is one of the best friend’s she’s ever had and it hurts to watch her get picked on. She’s not trying to make things worse but growing up on a diet of movies and cartoons, this is the only thing she can think of.

Amity reveals that she actually used to be a jock. No joke. She was the captain of the grudgby team before Boscha. But Amity decided to make the game all about her and her teammates got hurt. So felt so bad that she never played again. Amity is rough around the edges, but deep down she’s always cared about people.

Another gay panic later, and Luz gets the right idea this time. Luz forfeits the game and agrees to take all of Willow’s punishment so that Boscha will stop picking on her.

Bitch, works for me! Think fast!

Amity senses the obvious and immediate danger and goes for help. She reminds Willow and Gus that Luz always has good intentions and needs help because that’s what friends do.

This isn’t about “friendship” is it?

Gus and Willow show up to save Luz but you need three on a team. And in true sports movie fashion, the hero arrives in the eleventh hour to save the team. I.E. the only player who is actually good at the game gives the good guys a chance to win.

Let’s get it on!

It’s game on and for a bunch of nerds the game is actually pretty competitive. It’s a magic sport, so Willow focuses on the magic while Amity focuses on the sport. Luz being Luz, even congratulates the other players when they score. Luz discovers every RPG players favorite spell, fire. 

It looks like our heroes pull off the victory in true sports movie fashion when this happens.

I stand by what I said last time. Someone on The Owl House thinks Harry Potter is really fucking stupid. Boscha catches the rusty smidge which means she automatically wins and Luz let’s out two decades of Harry Potter frustration.

But she has a point. If the golden snitch gives your team 150 points and ends the game then the only way to play would be to play defensively and focus all your efforts on finding the snitch. It means there’s literally only one decent way to play the game if you want to win.

“That just invalidates all our efforts! If catching that thing is so important, why do anything else!? There’s no reason to watch any of the other players! THAT’S SUCH A STUPID RULE!”

You tell them, Luz.

But in a twist that everyone saw coming, all the other players (Skara, Cat, Amelie) all had so much fun playing that they invite Willow to join the team. Willow politely declines because Boscha.

But we can’t have Amity help with the season finale so she hurt her leg. Amity panics at the thought of Luz carrying her, so of course Luz picks her up.

“Oh. Wow. Sports.”

Speaking of sports.

It’s game on at The Owl House and Lilith and Eda have a one on one match that’s really close. Eda decides to cheat her way to victory until.

Dammit, Luz!

Eda wins and Lilith vows to return.

The episode ends with Amity joining the fam at The Owl House.

FINAL SCORE: 5 - LOVED IT!

This episode was the best of fun episodes combined with the development of Amity episodes and you get probably my favorite episode. This was so fun and touched on most of the major characters. Even the B-plot is important because now Lilith knows the location of The Owl House. The jokes were funny. It was cute. Just everything.

The Lumity Trilogy ends on a high note. Amity is officially crushing hard on Luz. 

#THE OWL HOUSE #my works #full review #full reviews

[moonlights-inkwell]

“Be Good to Me.” I Whisper. (And you say, “What?” and I say, “Nothing Dear.”)

Summary: Jaskier’s different in Oxenfurt. It’s not a bad thing at all.

Jaskier x Reader

Word Count: 5,406

A/N: This fic was going to be a super short and indulgent smut fic, but then it took on a life of it’s own and got to be like 5000 words before I even got to the porn, so now it’s gonna be a two parter. Oops. Also, Jaskier’s looking kinda rugged in this fic, mostly cause I was basing his appearence on how Joey looked during the Love Run era and I’m... weak. And yes I gave him glasses. Why? Who knows.

Title taken from That Unwanted Animal

Warnings (for Parts 1 and 2): Smut. cock warming. Oral (female and male receiving). Body worship. Female pronouns used/afab genitals described for the Reader. Light Praise Kink. Dom Jaskier. Professor/Lecturer Jaskier.  

You wake, slowly and without much intent, to the sound of singing.  

It’s not uncommon, these days at least, to be woken by music and laughter. It’s a welcome change of pace from your normal life of travel, fighting and pain, all the laughter and music. Oxenfurt is always so lively and full of music and laughter, even now in the coldest and darkest months of the year. You almost resent that it isn’t a permanent fixture of your life. You've never thought yourself a deeply domestic person, but now in Oxenfurt, you feel... content in a way you've never felt before. 

Not knowing, or caring about, the time, you decide it much too early to even consider opening your eyes, and remain beneath the sheets entangled about you. Fingers curling into the soft, treated furs that cover the mattress, you tug the duvet closer to you, and feel the blankets on top of them shift, weighted and soothing all the while. A lazy grin spreads across your face; it’s so warm, a luxury you know all too well you cannot afford to take for granted. Cracking open an eye ever so slightly, you catch sight of a fire, crackling and popping deep within the arch of the fireplace. Bless Oxenfurt, you think tiredly and close your eye once more. A fireplace in the bedchambers, and the living area. You could get used to luxuries like this.

You never considered that you’d ever spend any period of time in Oxenfurt, never mind be wintering there, and while it’s wonderful you cannot help but feel out of place. You’ve never been the sort of person to be wealthy or talented enough for a University of such high esteem; daughter of a seamstress, former barmaid, barely able to hold a tune or paintbrush. But along came Jaskier, wonderful, beautiful Jaskier. With Geralt returning to Kaer Morhen for the winter, your bard had asked you, soft and sweet, to join him at his old place of education. He only needed to ask you once.  

The campus is beautiful, warm and comfortable and full of lively, excited youths, so bewitched by their art and school. You understand it, it’s difficult not to be taken in by the beauty of it all, but one thing keeps you weary; the fact that it’s a place of such overwhelming privilege, the likes of which you’ve had next to no interaction with. You’ve always known Jaskier is a man of luxury: his accent, embroidered doublets and silk chemises advertise it in a way that is out of place on the road traveling with Geralt but are common as muck on campus. Everyone here is like him, rich but seemingly playing at slumming as students, as if they too will be traveling bohemian bards rather than what will undoubtedly actually happen, being taken in by whatever court will have them. He’s different in Oxenfurt, too. Not a bad sort of different, but... unusual. Jaskier, your bard, lover and traveling partner, is wonderful, a giddy and excitable fool, who spends much of your time together teasing and goading, is strangely absent. In his place is... someone else. A professor and an adult. It’s hard to believe your bard, a man who sings often of masturbation and hand-jobs with a smug grin, is a professor. A teacher. He’s smart, you’ve always known that, but it’s easy to forget how bloody intelligent he is.

He plays the fool all too well, well enough that it’s what you think of when you consider him. It’s strange to see him acting so maturely, planning lectures and grading compositions, walking about and advising students, talking about writing and singing techniques. They adore him, it’s written across their faces when you see them together, and the adoration and admiration of him is transferred onto you too. They gape and gawk at you, talking quietly and singing lines from songs that Jaskier had written about you. When you walk together around the halls and cobblestone roads, they rush to you both, mouths full of questions about travel and monsters as well as whatever the hell a cleft or bridge are. It’s so strange. You don’t know how you’re to feel about being watched by these aristocratic students, caught somewhere between hero worship and sideshow attraction. Even in tiny taverns and villages, people look at you as just a girl, aided usually by Geralt’s intimidating frame outshining the various knives you have adorning your figure. The only person who normally stares at you is Jaskier, always in this shocked sort of adoration, as if he can never quite believe that you are real and beside him. It’s sweet and never invasive, always looking but never prying.

You purr softly at the thought of Jaskier, in this delicate daze of being half-asleep, this is perfection, a comfortable, engulfing warmth and softness, resting on top of soft fur with the love of your life in bed beside you. But something isn’t quite right. Jaskier always touches you, something you silently think must come from a lack of human contact as a child, he always has a hand on your bare skin especially while in bed, on your hip, curled about you like you could be snatched away, forehead pressed into your back, or fingers threaded through your hair. But right now? There’s not any such contact, and it makes you roll over in bed, eyes suddenly wide with realisation. Empty.  

It’s expected, but disappointing none the less. During the week he has lectures in the morning, and leaves you to rest as long as you wish before doing whatever you want until his classes end, usually resulting in your traveling about the campus town, meandering by the market and bakery often. It feels childish, but you hate it, you’re too used to waking in his arms and turning about to kiss him awake. It’s horrible to wake without the comforting weight of his arms around you and the combination of warmth and tickling hair from his chest hair against your back.  

“What in the fuck... is that a scale? In the middle of... what is that?” An oh so familiar voice says loudly, which makes you grin. He’s here, even if not in bed with you, there’s no need to wait about for him to return. He sounds scandalised, you can see him in your head, hunched over a pile of papers, brows furrowed into a look of confusion and annoyance. Adorable. You shift up and attempt to get to your feet, faltering slightly at the comfortable warmth of your sex and the dried fluid on your thighs; eyes slide down to take in your naked form. Bed clothes have never been a necessity with someone as insatiable as Jaskier, hell, even normal clothes are barely necessary.  

“What the fuck?” He mutters, the sound of his voice draws you towards the door, but you stop as quickly as you start. There seems something overly presumptuous about walking to him nude, even if you have been in a relationship for years and have seen each other naked more times than you can remember. Stepping forward once more, your eyes slide across the sight of one of Jaskier’s shirts balled up on the floor where it had been tossed to last night. It’s scooped up without much of a second thought and tugged on before turning to look at a mirror; it’s beautiful, silk and embroidered with bluebells, with a high collar, and is left open to expose the inner curves of your breast, the expanse of your stomach and almost all of your legs. It, combined with the slight swell of your lips from relentless kissing last night and sleep tousled hair, makes you feel strangely beautiful. You don’t often feel beautiful, especially having just woken up, so when you rub your face gently with the fabric and breath in the smell of your lover, you feel your nipples stiffen slightly. Lavender and musk and something so entirely Jaskier fill your senses, and you walk out of the bed chambers, smiling softly as the material grazes your thighs as you do so.

Gods above, he’s beautiful. Always is, always has been, but still no matter how long you’ve known him he manages to take your breath away. He’s always had such a boyish face, handsome but soft, fitting easily with the childishness he exudes, but winter has seen that change. With him not performing for the season, and needing to look older than his students, his need to shave and keep up appearances has dissipated somewhat. He’s sitting there in an armchair in front of a desk, all curtains drawn and leaving him illuminated by the fire roaring across from him and the candles littered about the table in front of him, shirtless and resting his now stubbled chin on his hand while his hair, longer than you’ve ever known it, frames his face. You like it longer, and he seems too as well, letting you twist and braid it during the evenings while he strums at his lute in front of the fire and tells stories you don’t believe to be entirely true. He doesn’t look older, but instead more mature, like he had responsibilities that aren’t trying to earn as many coins as possible between stolen kisses and avoiding being swatted at by Geralt. His skin is almost glowing in the candlelight and reflects from the delicate spectacles that rest on the bridge of his nose. It’s alien and familiar all at once, and you smile to yourself at it. He had told you he was full of surprises the first night he kissed you, but this was a surprise you doubt even he could have ever anticipated. You’ve taken to referring to this more grown-up Jaskier as Julian in your mind, just to try and separate the two for your own peace of mind, but it doesn’t seem right now. It’s like looking at another side of a coin or hearing a song and finally paying attention to what the lyrics mean; it’s the same but not, and you worry that maybe you’ve spent your entire relationship with the man before you underestimating him. Reducing him down to beautiful fool and verbose romantic, when he’s always been mature, but felt no need to show it. You know from first-hand experience that being serious in the presence of Geralt always makes the air cold and uncomfortable, but now, away from the Witcher and his overwhelming stoicism, Jaskier can be as serious as he wants without souring anything. It’s refreshing. You never thought you could love him more than you already do; but right now? Bathed in golden light, relaxed and without pretention or any semblance of performance? You could marry him on the spot. You’re hardly a creative like he is, but you could write epics about him; verses about his eyes, sonnets about his cupid's bow, songs about the colour of his hair. He curses in what you assume is elder before pushing his hair away from his eyes, and you have to fight back the urge to run to him and tug it back with a ribbon to keep it from annoying him, and so you stay.

Leaning back against the door, you take him in as best you can and try to dedicate this image of him to memory. Him, soft and comfortable, looking like a real professor, surrounded by the warm brown of the furniture and the golden glow of fire that crackles and pops under the quiet music of him humming whatever is written on the pages, that’s the sort of Jaskier you want to remember. Content. It's a habit you have gotten into since you began courting, trying to keep the most delicate and domestic memories for nights when the traveling gets the most of you, and you wish you could just go home. It’s normally simple things, like when he sleeps in after you, hair haloing around him, long lashes fanning out on his cheeks, or the day when he took you to a field of wild flowers to unwind, and had laughed so loudly the skin about his eyes and bridge of his nose had crinkled like silk moved too quickly, a crown of dandelions and bluebells about his head. He’s so beautiful, and when you’re both old and grey you want to be able to remember just how gorgeous he is. He never truly believes it when you tell him it, as you never believe him when he says how much he believes you to be beautiful. Perhaps it’s why the two of you fit together so well. Insecure fools, finding security in the other’s arms. It takes him a moment or two to glance up from the papers, but as soon as he does, he gapes at you, lips parted and eyes raking across your frame and back up to your face once more. It’s quiet, but you clearly hear the soft gasp that comes from him, which makes you smile sweetly to him and tilt your head to the side.  

“Good Morning, Dandelion.” Your voice is low and scratchy with sleep, pet name rolling easily from your tongue. It feels like a foolish thing to say, but every other thing that had come to mind was hardly better. “What are you doing?” The bard says nothing but grins and pushes himself back into the seat, opening his arms wide gesturing you onto his lap. It’s all the encouragement you need to walk over and clamber onto his lap, his arms wrap about you and tugs you closer still, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Afternoon, Dear Heart. It’s mid-afternoon.” He murmurs into your skin. “You looked so peaceful; I couldn’t be responsible for waking you when you were so blissful. Besides, I had compositions to overlook.” Squirming, you try to turn to look at the sheet music, but Jaskier holds you tighter still, face burrowing even further into the curve where your throat meets shoulder, his words make his lips brush against the sensitive skin, like kisses aborted before truly meeting their destination. “This chemise looks awfully familiar-”

“It looks better on me, Dandelion. Don’t you think?”  

“Everything looks amazing on you, Darling Dear.” He says softly and presses a teasing kiss to the corner of your mouth, and then one to the tip of your nose. “I’m quite sure you could wear rags and still be the most beautiful woman to have ever walked the earth.”  

“Flatterer.” You grin and rest your hands on the thick, downy fluff that covers his chest.

“I thought it sounded nicer than saying everything looks beautiful on you, but...”  

“But what?” You ask when his sentence dawdles to a stop without ending.  

“But I prefer you in nothing at all.” He grins, and despite all the ways his appearance has changed since the two of you arrive, you see your playful, boyish bard once more, all too proud of himself for having found a complimentary way of saying he wants you nude once more. It’s flattering, always will be flattering, that Jaskier loves your body in ways that you never have but you slap his arm playfully, more for your own sake than his; so you can pretend that you didn’t just consider stripping the shirt off to make his grin turn to the same flustered smile it always turns to when you exert any modicum of control over your bedroom activities. For all his experience, and your lack thereof, all it takes is you acting like you know what it is you’re doing to turn your Dandelion into a blushing, nervous mess of a man. The thought of his pink cheeks makes your own flush, and you try to distract yourself.

“What’s the time?”  

“Doesn’t matter in the slightest, Dear Heart. It’s a weekend, and you were so peaceful. I assumed after last night you would need all the rest you could possibly get.” The smug little grin that breaks across his face makes you blush harder. It had been a long night, and the thought of it sends a rush of heat to your sex.  

“O-oh.” You laugh weakly. Jaskier cups your cheek and pulls you into a soft, chaste kiss, the kind that makes your heart stop entirely for a second or two. His lips are softer here, not chapped and chafed by wind and travel, just plush and inviting. Just as you start to melt against him, and a hand travels up to grip his shoulder, he pulls back to glance back at the paper once more, “...Sorry. I must be distracting you-”  

“My favourite kind of distraction, My Love.” He squeezes your hips softly and tilts his head, “And I will never be too busy for you,” He pulls you closer still, chest pressed to chest, to rest his chin on your shoulder, looking to the papers once more. You’re sure it’s accidental, but he drags your bare cunt along his thigh, and you bite back a moan. “Especially seeing as you’re so bloody warm, like a little bed-warmer.”  

“A bed-warmer that you’re ignoring for music?” You tease, and one of his hands slips under the shirt to rest on the warm flesh of your waist as he shakes his head, sending chestnut hair brushing against your cheek, your own hand threading through the hair of his chest.  

“I’m not ignoring you. Gods, no one could ignore you if they tried. I just... I simply have to look over these compositions.” His voice is distant and distracted, he’s a thousand miles away, and you decide to try to be a good little bed-warmer, as he so eloquently put it, trying to stay still and keep him warm. You aren’t sure how long passes before you begin to shift, could be a second or an hour, but Jaskier’s thighs are not the most comfortable resting place you can imagine, so you shift up onto your knees for a second, using the added leverage of height to shift closer towards him, accidentally brushing your hips against his in your search for comfort, but instead only feel a familiar stiffness against your sex. The shock draws a soft gasp from you, and that makes Jaskier chuckle lowly.  

“Oh. I... You. You’re hard.” The words come out breathy and virginal, as if the idea of the man you’re sat atop of being attracted to you is some sort of strange impossibility rather than being obvious. He spends his nights with either his tongue or his cock buried inside you, but were someone to have heard that weak little statement, they would have assumed that You had never been so much as touched before in your life. Jaskier appreciates the absurdity if the chuckle he breathes out is anything to go by at all, you feel him turn his head and then the heat of open-mouthed kisses being pressed to the crook of your neck. Kisses there have always made you feel vulnerable, made worse by seeing what beasts could do if they got their teeth that close to your jugular, but Jaskier isn’t a beast. He’s barely like a man, more like a dream you’ve created for yourself, and he always kisses you there. He must like the vulnerability it makes you feel for the frequency he kisses it.  

“Have been since I saw you in my shirt.” He murmurs, quiet as though it’s a confession of sorts, head shifting slightly to brush his nose across the column of your throat. “It’s quite difficult to not be hard when you look so... Debauched.”  

“Debauched?”  

“As sin, My Love. Fucking... hair wild, neck bruised, tits barely covered... And in my clothes? Melitele, I cannot imagine anything more debauched.”  

“Your cum is dried on my thighs too.” You all but sing out. The reminder is all the encouragement he needs to reach down and trace lute-calloused fingers across the crust of spunk at the top of your legs. They don’t remain there for long, however, travelling up to trace across your slit.  

“And your soaked cunt too.” He says lightly, digits trailing across the seam and gathering as much of the wetness as he can, stopping just above the place where you need him most to bring up the fingers and slot them into his mouth, sucking on them with a purpose. The whine that escapes your mouth isn’t dignified in the slightest, but neither was the way he was dangling exactly what you want in front of you without letting you indulge.

“Don’t tease, Jask-”  

“I’d hardly call this teasing, especially compared to your coming out here in nothing but my shirt-”

“Julian~” You whine weakly. Using his birth name is so uncommon to you that you almost trip over the word, but it achieves some sort of reaction from him. He pulls back and stares at you, a hunger in his eyes as his pupils grow wider and trail down your body, lingering on your cunt for a second longer than the rest of you, then looking up to meet your gaze again. You know his usual lust filled gaze, light and flirtatious and appreciative but this is... hungry. Ravenous, as if he’s been denied you rather than staring at his own handiwork, littered across your body and encouraging his staring.

“No, Dear Heart. I have such a lot of music to review and grade. My students will be disappointed if I don’t do it quickly. So disappointed.” His voice is pointed but you know from the look on his face that he’s playing, with you and himself. A game to see who cracks first, one you have no interest in playing. You have absolutely no interest in making him beg for you, or begging for him, you just want to feel the blissful drag of his cock in and out of you. “Don’t be selfish. You get to have me all year, and these poor things only have my genius to consult for the winter.” Genius. You aren’t entirely sure about that, but watching him speak, all you can think of is him putting his clever mouth to work on you.  

He moves quickly, hands removing themselves from your skin to pick up the papers while his chin returns to your shoulder once more. It's infuriating, so you tug at his chest hair like a petulant child.  

“But you’re hard!” You whine out in utter indignation.  

“I know, Dear Heart. Your cunt is against my cock, of course I’m hard.” Jaskier says slowly, as if talking to a small child. “But, I’m also a professor who needs to overlook my student’s work.” He’s right, you know that he’s right, and it’s hardly as if Jaskier is some brute who leaves your needs ignored but, Gods, you’ve been wet since you saw him, and the thick ridge of his cock against you is hardly helping your situation. “You can feel how much I want to fuck you, Darling. Gods above and below, the things I want to do...” He sounds defeated, and you turn your head to gently peck his cheek. “But, truly, I do need to look at these.” You nod quickly and gnaw at your lip; you aren’t being fair, and you know it.

“Then look at them, Buttercup. I’ll just... keep you warm.” You smile sweetly and he nods then pecks your cheek.  

He’s busy. You know he’s busy, but he's still hard and it isn’t helping your situation. Memories of last night, specifically of how it had felt to sink down on him while his mouth worked about your nipple, comes to mind too which causes your hips to rut against his subconsciously, drawing a growl from the bard. It’s not a noise you know well, coming out when he feels slighted or is especially engrossed in a song, but it sends a rush of heat to your cunt once more and you desperately grind your hips into his again. This is not keeping him warm, your mind chides you, but the feeling of the lacing pressed upward by his tenting trousers rubbing against your clit is enough for you not to care about how you had promised to keep him warm. The only thing you care about right now is chasing the feeling of overwhelming pleasure.

“You... are toying with things beyond your control, Dear Heart.” He murmurs darkly, pulling back to stare at you once more and only serves to intensify the blush that is spread across your cheeks. Beyond your control? Jaskier? The thought makes you giggle.

“I am... I’m just trying to... warm you up.” The words come out stilted and gasped between each circling movement of your hips against his. “You. You said you... were cold. I’m trying to be a good... bed warmer.”  

A good bed warmer? Not at all. You want to be a good partner, a good woman-desperate to feel your lover's cock buried to the hilt inside of you; the blissful stretch that it causes, his hands guiding you gently in your ministrations. Even without his prick being free, you move against him as if it is, hips gyrating and tits bouncing with each movement, you try and pretend that the feeling of coarse lacing against your clitoris is all you need. In all honesty, it almost is, especially when Jaskier gives up all pretence of working and allows his hips to buck up and grips your hips tightly enough to bruise, guiding each circling motion that your hips make. You can almost feel the ridge of his cockhead through his undergarments, and sink down on it enough that the fabric covered tip almost sinks inside of you before you pull back and return to rubbing your sensitive nub against the fabric. All too soon, you feel yourself lifted onto the table and whine, trying to grab at him but stop when you see Jaskier scrabbling with the ties of his under clothes, finally pulling them loose and shoving them to just beneath the delicate curve of his bottom. It’s seldom you get to see him so desperate he can barely undress himself, but you don’t allow yourself to admire that for as long as you should like to, because of what catches your eye. His cock stands freely, the base framed by dark curls that creep up onto his stomach and into the thicket of hair across his chest, which makes your mouth water in a way you don’t understand and never want to. You just know that the thickness and slight curve of his member makes you want to sink to your knees to wrap your lips about the leaking, pink head and listen to the breathless moans that doing so always draws from him, prettier than any song that you’ve ever heard him sing. Without second thought, you try to push yourself off of the table to settle on the floor and take him in your mouth but are tugged unceremoniously back onto Jaskier's lap.  

“But-" You start, only to have Jaskier cut you off before you can voice your complaint.

“Hush.” The firmness of his voice silences you immediately, his hands guide you up to his member before one slides down to the puffy lips of your sex, spreading them before tugging you down onto him. The manoeuvre is hardly ceremonious, but it’s worth it to finally have that which it feels like you’ve been wanting for hours. The sensation of him splitting you open makes you moan loudly, hips returning to their frenzied bucking to try and reach climax, but your enjoyment is short lives seeing as your desperate canting is stopped by the tight grip on your thighs holding you in place.

“Jaskier?”  

“I thought you wanted to be a good bed warmer, Dear Heart.” His voice trills and you still. The way he says good is enough to make your breath hitch and heart falter.  

“I do-" You’d go to the end of the world for the slightest praise from the Bard, and the way you admit to it makes him grin, and cup your cheeks in both hands, trusting you enough not to move simply because you want to be good for him.

“Then be a good little darling and stay still for me, if you would.” All previous dark hunger that had edged his voice is gone, replaced with his usual childishness once more. You almost wouldn’t realise he was doing anything sexual at all were it not for him having just speared you onto himself. The strangeness of the situation makes you clench around him, drawing a moaned out curse from his lips.  

“But you're inside of me-"  

“You just said you wanted to keep me warm, Pet.” He says slowly, as if speaking to an untrained dog, and the newfound pet name is hardly doing much to dissuade that thought from your mind. “But we aren't in bed, and seeing as you made this mess, I suppose being a cock warmer rather than a bed warmer will have to do.” The candidacy with which he says the term makes you blink. Sometimes, you think, Jaskier forgets that he’s the only man you've ever been intimate with, so terms like... cock warmer, that he throws about like they’re nothing brings a nervousness about you. You don’t know what that even means, but it distracts you from the fact he had just implied that him being aroused by you is a ‘mess’.  

“A... cock... warmer.” You say, leaving a good few seconds gap between each word. The uncertainty in your voice is obvious, and the man inside you chuckles slightly and mumbles something to himself that you can’t quite make out, but sounds like ‘corrupting her’.  

“Sorry Darling. Look at me, throwing about terms you don’t know and acting as if you should.” He sounds genuinely apologetic, but there’s a level of something patronising to his words that you’re not sure he even knows is there, yet intrinsically sets off a need to argue within yourself that you’re barely capable of choking back. “I want you to sit here, looking as radiant as you always do... Debauched and in my clothes, my cum dried on you, with my cock inside of you. But. You cannot move.” He says it simply, as if it's a term people should already be acquainted with; factual, like he’s trying to teach you something new, and your core tightens around him. You wonder, dazed, if that is the tone of voice he uses when teaching his pupils about music.  

If so, you might have to sit in on a lecture. Or have him teach you about music in the privacy of your shared chambers, where you can shove a finger or two inside of yourself to alleviate the want that is developing between your thighs.  

“I can't move? But why?” You wanted it to sound inquisitive, but instead your voice comes out as a whine, and Jaskier grins at that.  

“Think of it as a game, Darling. To show who has more resilience to the other. Who will... fall victim to the carnality of being so close, but still not... fully intimate.” He's so confident that it is almost infuriating, made more angering still by the way he gently brushes his lips along yours as he speaks, refusing to fill the gaps and just kiss you. It’s already almost more than you can bare, hand slipping down to rub at the swollen bud not two inches from where his dick is resting inside of you, but feel it pinned to your thigh before you can so much as brush a finger across it.  

“No, no, no, Dear Heart. If this is a game, then that is cheating, no?” You want to slap the smug smile off of his face, or force your tongue into his mouth, either would please you. “You cum from me, or not at all.” And with that, his earlier predatory smile is back in full force, making you shiver. “If you can stay still for me while I mark these compositions then I'll fuck you the way you want me to. That seems a fair deal to me, don’t you think?” He grins, toothy and wide, and you nod wordlessly.  

“Good girl.”  

#fuck man how do i tag this shit #jaskier imagine #jaskier x reader #jaskier x you #jaskier x y/n #jaskier smut #dom jaskier

[heuristicallyinclined]

SPF Five Million or Whatever

Summary: Mspa Reader figures they need some sunlight and recruits a few friends to help them get it.

Rating: T for language

Notes: I haven't written any of the jades before and I really love them and tried my best to capture their dynamic. I really love imagining Mspa Reader's adventures between Friendsim and Pesterquest. I feel like the games were really just scratching the surface of their shenanigans.  

(AO3)

You are pretty sure that people need about twenty minutes of sunlight a day to stay healthy. 

Or at least that is what you think it is. You never really thought about it too much to be honest. Having spent a decent amount of time outside walking, you figured you were getting your daily dose in without much effort, and maybe you just didn’t realize how good you had it, not living on a planet that even passively was trying to kill you. Because right now, you know for a fact you’re getting the ideal amount of sunlight on Alternia, which in your personal experience is fucking ziltch.

You tried it once and learned pretty fast that what might leave you with a healthy glow on Earth, would leave you well done on Alternia, a disgusting state for any piece of meat to be in, let alone your body. So that was clearly an Earth exclusive recommendation. 

Still, you think some sunlight would do you good. 

Especially since you were starting to feel this constant exhaustion after a few months on Alternia. After ruling out your questionable diet and semi existent sleep schedule, you were left with the fact that you were likely getting a vitamin D deficiency. 

Frankly, you have not survived your various trials and many tribulations here on Alternia to let rickets be what finally kills you. Absolutely not. No. You’re too proud to die in the lamest way possible on a planet with significantly more respectable and less preventable ways of dying. 

This does mean you’ll have to face off with the Alternian sun, which really isn’t that much better on the lame death scale. Last time you got caught out during daylight, you got really lucky. You aren’t counting on a second time where a gorgeous cowgirl, alien Lassie, and a lot of dumb luck would happen to rescue you from your own poor life choices. 

So this time, you were going to try to be smart about doing something this monumentally stupid. You were going to get water, a floppy hat, and some ice packs. Now you just had to not do this alone, especially when you knew someone who touted the merits of the buddy system. 

Luckily, you also know a few people who could withstand the sun’s rays. 

Finding out that jadeblood sun resistance was in fact a real thing and not just the latest in fucking with the local alien made this a whole lot easier and left you with a few options to consider. You figured Wanshi was too young to be kept up that late and that you’d rather not traumatize her if this went sideways. Bronya mentioned being busy with a new brood hatching and managing the herd of lusii they attracted to the caverns so that was a no go. Lanque would likely be otherwise occupied or at least claim to be and you’d rather him not see you like this if you could help it. That left you with Daraya, who you knew would be up and likely be down for some alien shenanigans. But most importantly, Lynera.

One massive check in her favor is she already had experience inconspicuously carrying your injured body through the caverns unnoticed by literally anyone else to a secondary location So discretion was clearly already a strong suit of hers. The context for how she even got that much experience in the first place is none of your business, especially now that you’re friends. And you’d say you two were actually pretty close after all the time you’ve spent hanging out with her in the caverns and going out on little cafe trips.

Really, she was the ideal candidate for this by every observable metric. Well, almost.

While she is loyal enough that you knew that she would help you hide a body if asked, she has also threatened enough people for perceived slights against you that she would very likely be the reason there was a corpse hanging around in the first place. So having Daraya be there too was probably a safe move. 

Oh it’s all coming together now.

You were feeling really good about this. Your confidence in yourself, your friends, and your planning abilities carried you through two difficult conversations. One with a veneer of apathy trying to conceal some very real concern, the other incredibly loud and extremely worried, but you got through them and that’s what matters. 

So here you are at the brooding caverns, tucked away inside the turn just before the mouth, clad in some cool guy shades from Cirava, a sun hat from Charun, some shorts from Remele, and a Xoloto brand tank top complete with strategic ripping that makes it basically impossible to wear anywhere in public without a layer underneath. 

Your friends are right here with you. Lynera is alternating between pacing and fretting over the placement of your sun hat for the seventh time to really make sure your hair doesn’t ignite. You know it won’t and you told her it won’t, but you let her fuss. She just needs to do something with her hands to stay calm. You can at least let her have that with what you’re about to do. Daraya checks her palm husk again for the time as dawn steadily approaches. You take a deep breath in, psyching yourself up. 

So you never actually figured out what the Alternian sun equivalent to twenty minutes of Earth sun is. But you think a minute should be enough to do it and not pass out. It feels about right. You have based this off of no math whatsoever, but you’ve done worse with less prep, so you’re not going to let some nerd shit stop you. Especially not now, when you hear Daraya sigh. You know that it’s show time. 

You look at her to confirm as she pockets her device and you see some light begin to stretch into the cavern’s entrance. She looks at it too, frowning as it approaches.

“▲▲ try not to fry your pan ▼▼"

You give her a reassuring smile and run up through the mouth of the cave, and stop just past the entrance, arms up wide and outstretched, like you were doing the YMCA dance and lost rhythm just past the first letter, ready to receive that sunlight you so desperately craved. The sun hits your skin and there is a comfort in feeling’s its warmth after living in eternal night.

You really missed this.

...

Actually, you know what? No you don’t. Fuck this. 

That “gentle warmth” quickly became a scorching blaze and to your credit, you made it a solid ten seconds under the full wrath of that relentless bitch they called a sun before you decided to quit while you were ahead and conscious. You dash back towards the entrance, uncomfortably aware of every step you take. Lynera stops nervously pacing and stiffens when you reenter the shade and runs towards you. Daraya is ready and quickly hands you a water bottle. You struggle to open the cap because of the condensation making the bottle slick and it exacerbates the painful tingle you’re feeling all over your hands. And your face. And your everything actually. 

You continue struggling until you finally succeed in twisting the cap off, but your victory immediately proves to be a hollow one, as your tight grip on the bottle has water going everywhere. 

God. Damn. It. 

You’re vaguely cognisant of a screeching sound somewhere behind you, but you have more important concerns right now. By some absolute miracle, a decent amount of the water seems to have gotten on you and saturated your top, soothing the skin under it. You feel less like you’re on fire and more like you had marinated your entire body in icy-hot for a few hours before getting deep fried. 

You’d like to believe that that is a much more manageable situation. Your skin can’t tell much of a difference though so you waste no time and pour the rest out all over your face like you were a champ who just scored the winning goal instead of a dipshit speedrunning skin cancer. 

Daraya mercifully cracks a cold one with the boys and pours the contents of another water bottle on you like you were a plant she forgot to water. The cool sensation on your skin causes you to sigh in a relief that doesn’t last long, before you lose contact with the ground. Lynera has you thrown over her shoulder and starts quickly making her way back into the caverns to her respiteblock. The physical contact takes that previous painful tingle and absolutely fucking floors it, bringing you to a familiar world of pain that your ass was very content not revisiting. Daraya keeps pace behind the two of you with her arms crossed the face of someone who is totally not panicked.

You try to calm them, telling them you feel better already. Really, you mean it. 

This just causes Lynera to speed up and Daraya to grimace down at you instead of giving you an actual response. 

While, yes, you resent having flesh, you actually feel really awake right now. 

Daraya narrows her eyes. “▲▲ you mean from the pain? ▼▼”

No. No. That's different. And way more familiar. 

God. Despite looking like a freshly hatched octogenarian, Lynera can really book it. 

She carries your limp, increasingly dizzy body with ease. You knew she was deceptively strong and fast first hand, based off of her being able to immediately able to knock you the fuck out and lug you back to her combination study block murder dungeon. Honestly, being able to do anything with an alien discreetly deserves commendation. Commendation up and out the wazoo. 

You’re about to attempt to try to verbalize that thought, but just before the turn to get to Lynera's study block, she suddenly stops. She nervously glances between this hallway and another adjacent one one. Daraya almost bumps into her but stops herself just in time. 

"▲▲▲ what are you doing? We said we were just going to put them in a spare recuperacoon ▼▼▼" Daraya whisper yells. 

"They're a new color Daraya !!!" Lynera whisper yells to the point of negating the whisper part of the whisper yell and more just using a normal speaking volume with a hiss. “-they need !!! A medicull kit !!!”

Oh. You glance down at one of your dangling arms. That happened fast. In retrospect, you should have mentioned that was a thing that would potentially happen. How did you forget that?  

“▲▲▲ and do what? A medicull kit could make them worse. We don’t know shit about aliens ▼▼▼”

“-!!! well how would you know all of their injuries were taken care of! that we didnt miss anything!”  

“▲ they’re fine. We just, I don't fucking know? Rotate them in the slime? ▼”

“-like some sort of !!! rotisserie cluckbeast !!!” Lynera indignantly whisper shrieks. 

"▲▲ No!▼▼" Daraya quickly defends. The way her eyes quickly glance to the side seems to imply that's kind of exactly what it's like. 

Just like them rotisserie chickens. 

The longer their arguing went on, the more uncomfortably aware you were getting about the fact that you had a body and Lynera's clothes felt like steel wool grating against your poor skin. That and describing what they were doing as “whisper arguing” was becoming more and more of a stretch as it went on and started to get louder. You were worried you were going to attract unwanted attention. 

It is as soon as you have that thought, that a door opens, and you see an irritated Lanque groggily peek his head through to find the source of the commotion. 

His face remains still at first, blinking tiredly as he takes in the fuckery and only opens the door wider when the other two turn at the sound of his door opening and he registers you slumped over Lynera’s shoulder with a single raised brow. 

You smile and wave at him, despite how lightheaded her turn had you feeling, and Daraya quickly pulls your hand down and stands in front of you like there was nothing to see here. You let out a weak, “ow,” as she did, your flesh protesting at the touch. She glances back at you quickly, before exasperatedly turning to look back at Lanque with her arms crossed.

“▲▲ what? ▼▼”

He measuredly looks at the scene before him. Really taking in all of the bullshit before side eyeing Lynera. 

“You threW the alien into broad daylight? EVen for you, that's crazy.” He almost sounds surprised, before smiling sweetly, “NoW Who’s going to tolerate you?” 

Lynera sputters something, clearly offended, but Daraya cuts her off with a groan, 

“▲ they literally need sunlight to live Lanque ▼”

His face twists. “Are they a fucking plant?” 

“-no!!!" Lynera considers for a moment before yelling again just as loud. “-most likely not!!!”

He looks from your trio, to the small puddle of water forming under you, and glances back to the trail of water you apparently had dripping from you this whole time. 

You know, you’re really starting to see the plant angle here. 

“▲▲ look they just needed some stupid sunlight and we hung around to make sure they didn’t just get too cooked or whatever. What, are you going to tell Bronya on us? ▼▼" Daraya half mocks, half asks.

“No, of course not.” Lanque almost seems offended. “I don’t see any reason to inVolVe myself With you tWo Watching the alien give themselVes sun sickness.”

You ask no one in particular what sun sickness is.

“-can aliens get sun sickness???” Lynera asks with a newfound panic.

Lanque irritatedly replies, “HoW Would I knoW?” 

You feel briefly dejected that no one answered. Until another thought crosses your mind. It wasn’t related to anything occurring at the moment, but it was weird enough that you don’t know how this was the first time you had ever really thought about it. Maybe the events of this morning were what it took for you to even be able consider this quandary. 

Why do they say troll before a name? Like troll Will Smith? Doesn’t that imply there is another kind of WIll Smith? Like if they’re all trolls, why say troll? Oh shit, is that why they do it? Did you tell them about human Will Smith or would that be like human Whillh Smithh? Human Willhh Smyyth? 

You rack your mind for other ways of making Will Smith a valid troll name, concentration evident on your face. 

Lanque looks at you like you’re an idiot. “What the fuck are you talking about? You're just repeating the same name.”

The spelling? You narrow your eyes as you consider the spelling. It is the clearest thing in the world right now to you. It’s spelled different Lanque.

“I can’t hear how it’s spelled.”

Daraya’s eyes widen. "▲▲ They fried their fucking pan ▼▼ " 

You still don’t know what sun sickness is, but you strongly suspect you may have it, especially since most of what happened afterwards was kind of a blur. 

What you think you can remember is the sound of someone coming. Quick, determined footsteps that you couldn’t recognize, but Lynera clearly could as she stiffened first. She maybe said something about Bronya doing a curfew round? You think? Either way, it had everyone else on immediate edge and was enough for Lanque to decide this wasn’t worth staying awake for. He made a final comment and you heard a door shut, leaving your trio behind. 

Daraya and Lynera exchanged words, finally remembering the “whisper” part of whisper yelling. They came to an agreement of some sort with Lynera nodding and heading to her studyblock and Daraya going off in the direction of what was probably Bronya.

Mentally, you are pressing F to pay your respects. Physically though, you register your orientation rapidly shifting. While you weren’t crazy about your position over Lynera's shoulder, what with her sweater vest grating against your torso and all, it turns out you enjoyed being moved out of it even less. The blood running away from your head had you feeling woozy in a whole new way.

To her credit, Lynera did not just immediately dunk you into the recuperacoon a la Space Jam like you’re sure she wanted to. She instead carefully lets you sink into it with a gentleness that starkly contrasted her worry. Normally, you would say that being put into a vat of slime is not an experience you would be looking forward to. Right now though, you’re loving it. It is an absolute godsend as it acts a cool balm against your skin.

Lynera continues and gingerly removes your shades and places them on an end table next to your sunhat. You were about to thank her and let her know she was in fact “a real one,” but you got cut off by her grabbing a handful of slime and smearing it on your face. 

You sputter and instinctively try to move away, but you’re no match for her. She’s dealt with fussy grubs with sharp teeth for way too long to actually be deterred by your feeble efforts to resist. You don’t know how you’d rate the experience between, “children haphazardly covering you in slick grease paint” to “alien clay mask ensuring you don’t have enough skin to even entertain having clogged pores,” but you aren’t in a position to be opposed to it. It actually feels kinda nice when it’s in a smooth, even layer and not a huge fucking dollop on your face. 

When she’s done, she wipes her hands while saying something to you. You don’t really register it, so you just kinda smile and nod. It’s your usual go to when you aren’t quite sure what is happening around you and it hasn’t led you too astray in the very many times you’ve done it. You’ll just ask her what she said in the evening.

Lynera seems pleased and starts moving to turn off the lights. Before she does, you thank her. She smiles at you, the corners of her eyes crinkling, and glances back at you as she goes, leaving you feeling warm inside and out for two extremely different reasons. 

You settle down, trying to get cozy. You're not going to pretend you know much about sopor slime. You assumed it comes from a plant and haven't tried to confirm that little theory of yours because you need to believe that for your own sake. It's plant goo. From some kind of alien aloe vera or something. An extremely fleshy plant just ripe with goo for the taking. If you ever learn otherwise, no you didn't. 

After you wake up and wipe off the slime, you find that you’ve healed surprisingly quickly. You’re still very tender to the touch, you find that out real fast, but your skin looks a lot less irritated than when you last saw it. This bit of good news and vitamin d that you assume you now have coursing through your veins that hopefully was not mostly used up on healing your skin, puts a little pep in your step as you get ready for the night. Before you exit the caverns, you feel a pang of hunger.

You can practically hear Bronya reminding you how breakfast is the most important meal of the day, so you walk into the meal block, figuring that no one would mind too much if you grabbed a breakfast bar or two before you left. Maybe you’ll even get lucky and find the ones that kind of taste like peanut butter and are crunchy for reasons you’d rather not identify. You aren’t alone when you enter. Lanque is there, sitting at a table. He looks up from his palm husk and eyes you.

“Did you change color?”

Yeah. Humans being exposed to sunlight makes them create a protective pigment so they're more able to be exposed to the sun.

“I’m fascinated.” he says, anything but. “So you're going to turn jade?” 

No, more of a slightly darker version of what you are now. 

He hums, now totally disinterested and looking back down at his chittr feed. Guess the limits of your rainbowdrinker like attributes have worn off on him. 

Anyways, this just means that this will be easier next time you go out during the day. 

That statement gives him pause. Lanque looks up from his palm husk, looking out before glancing at you dubiously. 

"Next time?" 

#hiveswap #hiveswap friendsim #Lynera Skalbi #Daraya Jonjet #Lanque Bombyx #Mspa Reader #This is just me having fun and getting real stupid enjoy #Can you tell I love Lynera?

[rahleeyah]

i've been reading about eli loving or hating noah/olivia and suddenly had this thought about him really trying but just not feeling like he fits into this new dynamic and lashing out here and there and everyone being so understanding and taking it in stride because they know he's just missing his mom because he def was a mamma's boy and they would do everything together and have the same personality and light and love and laughter and liv is just so different because she is dark and there is something broken in her eyes and her love feels overwhelming and too much sometimes but it's also a feeling he absolutely craves, that motherly love and affection

and one evening they're having dinner and eli had a bad day at school and he just breaks down when liv asks how school was, acting like a normal family, talking about their day and he starts crying and liv, with all her compassion and her empathy, goes to hug him and he just... pushes her away and screams that she has to "stop being so nice because SHE IS NOT HIS MOM" and she takes it in and understands and she's not upset and backs away but noah, sweet noah who's so protective of his mom because it's always been team mommy & noah screams at eli to "stop being mean to his mom" and eli just feels stuck in a place, in a life he doesn't want to be in and he turns to noah and blurts out "why should you care? she's not your mom either! you're adopted" and the world just stops spinning for a second

elliot freezes, olivia just crumbles into herself, noah doesn't understand but he turns towards his mom, questions in his eyes, so upset because what does this mean? and eli is angry, so angry and how did it get out of hand so quickly?

god, this is horrible but i'm in drama mode right now and i read all these fics where they're a happy family and just... there's so much trauma about eli losing his mother and his dad having ptsd and him being moved around like an something nobody knows what to do with that i just cannot see it happening smoothly and it is normal for there to be a big adaptation period, and resentment, and acceptance that it's okay for him to maybe look to olivia for that motherly love but it's so hard because he just wants his mom and he hates that everyone is being so careful around him and so understanding, he wants people to stand up to him, to tell him how it is, to tell him to stop being so difficult because yes he lost his mother, but it doesn't give him to right to become mean and lash out because now he's made this huge mistake and how is he, are they, going to fix it? is it even fixable?

he's just angry and sad and it's the worse combination because he want everyone around him to feel the same and he doesn't see it and have they all forgotten about his mom being dead?

but then olivia gets angry at him and tells him how it is, that he had no right and finally, finally it's the release that he's been craving for, someone standing up to him and afterwards they have a hard conversation about it, and a new understanding about their place in each other's life and it takes time to rebuild what was broken between them but it's better and he feels incredibly lucky that, in the end, it was olivia it happened with and not anyone else and he respects the hell out of her

elliot on the other hand is completely ashamed and angry and at a loss because he's never dealt with this eli before and it was always kathy that dealt with temper tantrums with the kids but this time he has to step up and it's the thing that makes him have a deep and hard conversation with eli about what happened and how to deal with it going forward

he apologises to olivia, he feels so bad and he doesn't know how eli knows about noah being adopted but olivia knows it's not his fault, that eli is old enough to take responsibility for his own actions and that really everyone didn't really look closely at how eli was coping and it's not an excuse but they need to understand what and how and why and families can be messy and together they have enough trauma to load an antonov-225 and it's going to take time but this too shall pass and it's going to be okay

noah and liv has the adoption talk (olivia was gearing towards it anyway because he's coming to an age where he can understand it) and they have a strong bond and they get over it because noah knows olivia is his mom and she's always been honest and she answers all his questions and it's a new dynamic to navigate but their love for each other is strong and he knows his mom and that she will always be there for him and he feels kinda special that her heart choose him, that they found each other and got to be a team

it gets tricky between noah and eli but slowly they figure it out and children are so resilient and forgiving and noah still looks up to eli and eli slowly realises that he can become an example for noah and how can you say no to childlike wonder and maybe they have more in common than they think and it deepens their bond that both of them lost their mom and both of them were taken in and loved and protected by olivia and that feeling? nothing can replace that feeling

this was my ted talk, thank you goodbye

Good Lord anon I feel like I need to lie down

Holyyyyyyyy shit

Eli is just a teenager, a young one at that, whose whole life has been turned upside down and inside out, and I think it totally makes sense that he would be angry at times, that he would lash out, that he would speak without thinking. And it's not that he's malicious it's just too damn much. And Olivia's compassion and empathy could be smothering, especially when he so desperately misses his own mother. And yeah it's messy and it's hard but yes they can find their way through it. I love this 🙌🙌🙌🙌

#anonymous

[ales-creates]

So I wrote a lil somethin’ for an AU I adore. For the past week I have been nit picking and tweaking this trying to make it as good as it can be. I hope you enjoy my little contribution to the @kingcreativityau by @rondoel , it is a fantastic AU and I highly recomend you check it out! This fic will also be cross posted onto Ao3! The link for that is, [HERE] and the master post for the King AU is [HERE]

This Fic follows these Comics:

Comic 1

Comic 2 [1] [2] [3]

Do enjoy! ❤️

———

Word Count: 3390

Summary:

Something was wrong. He knew something was wrong, there’s no way something isn’t wrong. He could feel something was wrong. Roman and Remus could always tell when the other was in trouble, it was just normal for them. But when Roman starts to doubt he is enough and the creative twins find each other and fuse back together to form The King what will happen? After all, the King hold nothing but a vendetta for everyone else.

——

Something was wrong. He knew something was wrong, there’s no way something isn’t wrong. He could feel something was wrong.

Ever since Roman and Remus split apart they had a kind of connection. They could tell when the other was in trouble, when they were happy, or sad. It came in handy every once in a while. When they were younger, freshly themselves, it was their own little secret. Two brothers forever connected, then Roman had to become a light side. And of course, Remus was left behind, forgotten. Though Princey would never admit to it, after he became a light side he did go and visit Remus occasionally. They would spend some time in the imagination, or have lunch. They were moments Remus treasured.

Then those moments stopped when Virgil turned good. Roman stopped turning up at his door. It stung. And Remus began to resent his brother. The divide between them grew and the wound festered, became infected, beyond fixing. That is what he thought.

But right now, he could feel his brother's turmoil grow by the second. Fear choked him. And all of the hatred towards one another was thrown to the wind as Remus found himself sprinting to find Roman, mace in hand. They were right, brothers forever connected. Brothers connected if not by this weird power then by love, an unconditional kind of love only siblings can share.

Roman was in some kind of trouble and he had to save him, if Roman died… well he didn’t want to think about that. He just kept taking long strides in whatever direction the emotion was strongest. Then he found himself in the in between of the light and dark sides.

The mindscape was quite the vast area, and the in between was the area between the light and dark sides and was just blank, no one dared to create there. It was however the quickest route to the light sides home. Remus ran straight across the blank plain that was a gradient from black to white. He could see in the near distance was a door, the door to their world, the place where Roman creates. The door was put there by the Prince ages ago, it was his own sort of guide to remind him not to touch what area was behind it.

The door was simple, red with white shapes painted neatly on it, the handle was gold and had an intricate design carved etched into itself. Hurriedly Remus swung open the door slamming it against the wall and kept running, not even bothering to close it. Sweat trickled down his forehead as his brows furrowed. He passed by trees, and flowers, small buildings, creatures only told in tales, until he found himself in a blank. It was odd to say the least, Roman never left an area blank in the mindscape, at least not his side of the mindscape. The Duke stopped to take a breath, bowing his head and resting his arms on his slightly squatted legs. They were threatening to give out on him but he fought stubbornly. He needed to keep going, but his body gave in on him. He tried his best to steady his breath and remain standing.

“Roman wait!” He heard in the distance, it was Patton. He could recognize that voice anywhere. It was far too sweet to be Deceit or Virgil, and not monotone enough to be Logan, and couldn’t be Roman (Who calls out to themselves?). It had to be Patton. Remus darted in the direction of the voice, not caring how much his body ached. His lungs yearned for him to stop, his legs attempting to trip him. His mind however, his heart, couldn’t stop. He needed to find Roman. He could feel a lump forming in his throat, but he fought it back. He couldn’t cry now.

Then suddenly in his view was the Prince, Roman. He was holding his sword, why though? And Patton wasn’t too far behind him. Roman’s eyes were glazed over, his hair stuck out in all sorts of directions. His usual bright smile was far from being seen. Sweat ran down his face.

“Roman kiddo wait up! Please wait! We want to help you!” Patton cried.

Roman had stopped and was just staring at his twin with those glossy eyes, calling to him with waves of fear and dismay. “Unless… Remus.” The Prince’s voice shook and he had called Remus’ name like his life depended on it. He only called out to him like that when they were children, when he had a nightmare. This right now however, Remus dreamed was one. He didn’t like seeing Roman like this, he dreaded it. He seemed broken and tortured. How long has he been like this?

The Duke flinched, he wasn’t sure what was happening to Roman, but he could feel how hard it was for him. Both brothers dropped their weapons with a loud clang. The world around them seemed to go dead, Patton’s cries were muted. The wind seemed to stop. It was just them and their connected thoughts, memories, feelings.

Slowly they moved inch by inch closer, until they were in arms reach of each other. Roman bowed his head and took a deep breath before meeting his other halves eyes. The glaze was gone, it was now teary and emotion filled. He leaned closer and whispered, “The king.”

Remus’ eyes widened, he wasn’t expecting that. They both knew the King existed. Though they didn’t know much about him, or remember him at all. They knew he was there, when they were young they would ask the others about him but the other sides refused to talk about him. The twins idolized him, they thought he was their forces combined. And when they were young they were close, naive. They thought that together they would be stronger. It would be a lie to say they hadn’t attempted to fuse, each one ended in pain and failure. Eventually they gave up on becoming who they once were, knowing full and well it would only cause more pain for themselves,

It was at this moment Remus then pieced together what Roman was feeling. He was feeling pressure, pain, resentment, for himself. He wasn’t good enough. That's what he was thinking. Remus didn’t understand it, Roman was perfect in every way. His opposite. Remus was the screw up, why did Roman feel this way?

“Why?” Was all Remus could croak out.

“I’m incomplete. We are supposed to be one, I am not enough. We are enough.” Roman looked at his twin with water filled eyes, his bottom lip quivering.

Remus didn’t understand, how could he? He wasn’t under the pressure Roman was. He didn’t have any responsibility. The others didn’t want him to even come close to the video making process, the creative process. He was casted out to the dark sides. And in all honesty, they didn’t seem to want him around much either. But Roman was someone who had accepted him in the past, flaws and all. He owed Roman so much for being there for him and he so desperately wanted to help Roman now. He loved him, and hated to see him so broken, and he knew that there was a possibility that he could help him. Roman reached out his hand for Remus, “Are you sure?” Remus asked.

“For Thomas.”

In a flash the two intertwined fingers and a burst of light and creativity came crashing. Patton was flown to the ground and rose only to his knees. When he saw the man in front of him he froze. He had jet black hair, a crown adorned with five red jewels and one green. His eyes were a mismatched color of red and green and they seemed to glow. He wore a dark princely ensemble with a red sash to top it off and gold shoulder pads. His cape seemed like fluid; it changed shape constantly, shifting and reforming itself endlessly.

With a deep raspy voice he spoke whilst holding the tip of Roman’s katana under Patton’s chin, “There you go. Bow before the King.”

——

Logan, Patton, Roman, and Virgil had all gathered together for a picnic outside the house in the backyard. The four chatted and cracked jokes for a while till the subject of videos to make came up. Roman had been spouting off different ideas only for Logan and Virgil to veto every single one. Roman was feeling fear build in his chest, he wasn’t creating anything good. Anything, worthy. It wasn’t enough, until finally he snapped. The world around them went blank and it was just white. Roman dashed away to find something, anything, to make himself complete. Everywhere he stepped went white, blank. Patton went after him whilst the other two stayed behind.

It had been a short while and Virgil was becoming more and more anxious. Logan tried his best to calm him when Janus had arrived. He explained that he was looking for Remus and couldn’t find him anywhere.

“What do you mean Remus is gone too?” Virgil was shaking now.

“Gone too? Who else is missing?” The snake raised a brow in confusion.

“Roman ran off and Patton went after him, they haven’t gotten back yet. But they will return.” Logan placed a reassuring hand on Virgil’s shoulder, to this Virgil smiled and stopped shaking as much. Logan was always right, he was the smart one. He had to be right.

Janus was pacing trying to think of where they all could have gone off to when a weak, “Kiddos…” came from behind. It had caught him off guard and he jumped slightly.

“Patton! Did you find-“ the usual intellectual side was cut off by his own shock. Before him stood a man he had hoped to never see again, the King. He involuntarily took a step back, trying to cope with what was before him. What brought him back to reality was a hand grasping lightly at his arm. Janus had rejoined the group and was now holding onto both of the other two���s arms. He was most likely looking for some kind of comfort. He too was probably in shock.

Patton coughed, “Kind of…” he bowed his head in shame, embarrassed he couldn’t stop what had happened to the twins. He should have been able to save them right? He was the dad, the guide for those on the wrong path, the morality, how could he fail? He had one job and he screwed it up.

The once proud fatherly figure was held up by his hoodie firm in the King’s grasp with a low gaze. Logan felt his heart beat furiously in his chest. His palms became sweaty and his breath was shaky. His brows furrowed and he stared furiously at the man holding his friend. The figure tossed Patton and Logan jumped to catch him in his arms. They sat on their knees as Patton nuzzled into the touch, reaching for some sort of comfort. The fatherly side wrapped his arms around his friend gripping tightly at the usual neat polo shirt. Logan pet his hair shushing his whimpering friend kindly before looking back up glaring at the smirking man.

“King…” his voice was cold and stern. He was nervous, devastated even, there was no doubt about that. But he would never give the King the pleasure of seeing that from him.

The individual in front of the four chuckled lowly, “Logic, though you go by Logan now I suppose.” His smirk was unsettling, it made the now forming pit in Logan's stomach churn.

“Correct.” Logan’s gaze if pointed at someone or something else would make that something cower in fear, but it was aimed at someone who did not fear him in the slightest. He seemed too cocky for someone facing the one person able to take him down with a few words.

“What even are you now King?” Deceit’s voice was cracking, he was afraid. And Logan can confirm now that they were all terrified.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m potential.” He seemed so proud of himself, so sure. So sure of something so obviously not true.

“Falsehood.” All the other men in the area whipped their heads to face the now standing Logic. “You are a mixture of imagination, and anger, and the demons that made you in the past.”

“And what was I made from, oh-smart-one?” The King seemed amused until Logan spoke his next words. Those words appeared to enrage him as his smile faded and was replaced with a scowl.

“Uncertainty, self-hatred, broken trust.” Next to Logan Janus visibly flinched at those last few words. The King said nothing in response, only glared.

Silence. It was quiet for what felt like far too long. Logan remained still, his eyes never breaking their stance. Seconds stretched to minutes, neither man wanting to give in and crack. Both had differing views, yet at the same time were so similar. The difference was one was working to better Thomas, the other was working to better themself. Logan knew this, he knew that the King returning would hurt Thomas, it did before, but now the King is even more powerful. How much more this will hurt their host, he couldn’t seem to calculate. Out of nowhere he spoke, “What is your business here? Why return?”

The King’s grin returned to him. “Merely to bring a new order. I am here for good after all.”

“There won’t be any new order. You don’t belong here!” Damnit, he cracked.

The King released a boisterous laugh, it rumbled the world around them. “Oh, did you hear him?” He wiped away a tear from his laughter, “Hilarious indeed! It should come to be even more funny that your last words would be a falsehood. Who knew?”

Logan looked puzzled, “Wha-“ his voice cut out. Logan struggled to release anything. His hands flew to his throat, he couldn’t speak. His voice was entirely gone, muted.

“Logan?” Virgil was quiet, almost a whisper. Why would he- Logan’s thoughts were cut short when he realized what the King had just done. The King was smarter now, that much was clear. He was working with a strategy. The King knew Logan was his weakness, his biggest enemy. A few simply weaved statements and he was done for, so he shut him up. Stopped him from even beginning. Logan began to shake visibly, he couldn’t stop him and if he couldn”’t no one could. Patton placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder as the logical side curled in on himself.

The King laughed again getting everyone's attention, “We don’t want you to spoil any fun, do we?” His stare moved to the side squeezing Logan’s shoulder reassuringly. “Now, Morality.”

Patton jumped and looked up worriedly, he hoped, prayed, that the King didn’t have any vendetta towards him. He was kind to him in the past, but alas, he never did see the pain he had caused the King. He really did leave him in turmoil. He enforced the rules that limited him, he told the King he was bad. He hurt his friend. Turned everyone against his uniqueness.

The look in the King’s eyes was one of deep hatred, but that only made the smile on his face all the more sickly looking. “You were so cute as a baby, why don’t we let it stay that way.” And the figure snapped his fingers. Patton felt strange for a moment as his vision went blank. When it came back to him his eye level was much lower than before. He seemed to be on the floor. He looked up and saw Logan, Deceit, and Virgil looking extremely concerned (and extremely tall to him). Beside him were his glasses, now broken. He then realized the missing sensation of his glasses and how large they were sitting next to him. From what he could conceive, he was now a baby, literally.

“Oh my god! Patton!” Virgil had fear covering his face. His voice was cracking all over the place and much more high pitched than normal. Virgil, while afraid, made no effort to lift the side from the floor, presumably too scared to even move. Soon enough though, Patton was lifted off the ground and was securely held in strong arms. Janus had scooped him up and looked down in concern at the baby. Feeling scared himself Patton hugged the side, clinging on like he was a lifeline. He felt a lump form in his throat as warm tears welled up and fell down his soft cheeks. Deceit noticed how scared Patton was and began to try and comfort the baby. Petting his head and whispering kind coos in his ears. It made Patton feel a bit better. The tears stopped leaving distinct trails. He looked up and placed one of his small hands on the snake's face and smiled. Janus smiled in return kissing the baby’s forehead.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Virgil broke the silence yelling at the larger man. Logan put up his hands to try and convey that it wasn’t the best decision, but Virgil’s fear had transformed into rage. It was too far gone for his attempts to stop his friend. The normally anxious side stomped closer to the King.“Cut the bullshit you two! What is this? Revenge for something?” The King sharply turned his head so fast it should have hurt him. His eyes glowed red. It didn’t seem as though the red was from rage, it was… from something else. Something no one could place.

“You. So invisible I almost forgot you exist.” Virgil’s bravery and anger made a full one-eighty and became, once again, anxiety. The King’s cape had grown large, enveloping him in pure darkness. “But I remember how you struck down every brilliant idea.” He towered over Virgil, making him feel small. “Thinking you know what’s best. Restraining the full potential of creativity.” The anxious side put up his arms, preparing for some kind of impact. “I have to say, you impressed me.”

Virgil looked up confused. “What?”

“After all, your ideas are far better anyways.” He placed a hand to his chin “Therefore, I appoint you my creative minister.” The King snapped with the hand that was previously on his chin and Roman’s original outfit replaced his usual jacket and jeans. “From now on, every bad little thought that comes to your troubled mind will come to life.” Virgil visibly curled in, holding his head in his hands as he fell to the ground. “Have fun now. Do what you’re best at doing.”

The only thing Virgil could think was, no. The thought repeated over and over and over again as darkness, real darkness surrounded him. The King wasn’t lying, he imagined darkness around him and it was.

Logan was trying to call out to Virgil, but he was still mute. Everything was going wrong. Patton began to feel more and more pressure, he felt like it was his fault. Like he was a failure for not saving Roman. Sure, Roman was a hero, but he needed someone to protect him, that someone was Patton. And he failed. Patton began to sob and Deceit hugged the baby tighter, burying his face in the small sides hair.

“The last one.” The King’s eyes had changed to being unreadable. Though he was unreadable, Deceit knew that he had to be mad at him, he was a traitor in his eyes. Hesitantly he raised his head to face the man. With a cold gaze the King began leaning down to be face to face with the snake. “You. Denial right?”

Anger boiled in the pit of his stomach as he responded, voice calm, though his face was a scowl. “It’s Deceit.”

He hummed, closing his eyes and rising back to his proud stance. “Actually… I think I will spare you. Deny it as much as you want, but without them, you’re as good as silent.” The King’s smile spread wide and maniacal. His eyes were crazed, almost like a face Remus would make, almost. “Enjoy the delectable helplessness!” He laughed as his cape enveloped him in darkness, “Consider it a gift, from your king!” His laugh faded as he disappeared leaving nothing behind but fear.

#roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #ao3 #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #thomas sanders #sander sides #sanders sides #king creativity

[arlenianchronicles]

Hi!! :D I really liked the last post about Fëanorians because I had trouble imagining their personality and this helped a lot. ^^ I would love to see your Nolofinwëan headcanons ❤❤

Hello again! I’m so happy you liked my Fëanorian headcanon post and found it helpful! :D I understand it can be tough to imagine character personalities when there’s not much of them; I still have trouble imagining some of the Fëanorians haha ^^;;

I have a clearer image of the Nolofinwëans, so I’m excited to go into them XDD I’ll admit I did some projecting onto Fingon especially, but it’s mostly me projecting one of my OC’s personality/backstory onto him too. Tbh, this is more of a sketch of how I imagine Fingon’s childhood played out, so be warned that this post is a long one. I should also warn y’all that my headcanons for these guys aren’t very happy ^^;; I’ll put in a content warning for mentions of bullying and emotional abuse (mostly caused by the Fëanorians).

If you don’t like these headcanons and they don’t help, that’s totally okay! Lots of people have their own interpretations of these characters, so I’m sure there’s some that are much happier than mine ^^;; I’ll put everything under the “keep reading” tab so you don’t have to read mine if you change your mind. And I’ll also bold the main names like in my previous post; I hope it helps for search purposes, just in case.

Let’s start with Fingolfin. As a child in Finwë’s house, living with Fëanor and Findis, I imagine that Fëanor bullied him a lot. Why? Because Fëanor saw him as a threat, given that Fingolfin is the first-born son of Indis. I think that Findis, and later Írimë, wasn’t viewed with much suspicion by Fëanor because they’re girls (and I even headcanon that Fëanor might’ve had a soft spot for them). And once Finarfin comes along, Fëanor sees him as a wimp, someone who can’t do much to stop him. So Fingolfin is the main target.

Now, to be clear, I sympathize very much with child Fëanor when he’s just lost his mother and his father marries a stranger. This Fëanor is likely more grown-up, though I’m not sure how much; I feel deep down that his actions would be akin to emotional abuse, but that’s a heavy term and I’m not sure if this is a good point in the tale to use it ^^;; So for now, we’ll stick with bullying. Once Fëanor’s a full-fledged adult, then I think it’d classify as abuse. Please feel free to give me advice or clarity, if you want!

So back to Fingolfin. Because of all this happening, I imagine he grows up with self-esteem issues and stress, and some anxiety on the side. He'd believe Fëanor and think that he's not good enough to be Finwë's son, etc. Finwë thinks that Fëanor can't be wrong in anything, so Fëanor must be right about Fingolfin. At the same time, he still loves Fëanor as his brother and wishes for a return of that love. It might stem from a desire to please Finwë (y’know, showing that they can be a real family and that Fingolfin’s making an effort), but also, I imagine he admires Fëanor's confidence in public situations – and especially now that Fingolfin lacks confidence and trust in himself.

Also, if you’re wondering about Finwë, he only scolds Fëanor when he thinks his son is being a bit too harsh, but doesn't do anything for the root of the problem (nor does he know about what goes on away from his sight). Given that Fëanor is his favourite son, I doubt he’d really see his son’s actions, and if he does, he’d be in denial about them.

Despite all this, I've always imagined that Fingolfin grew up with a desire to help others. He's good at diplomatic talk and politics, but he's not good at defending himself from Fëanor, even after he becomes an adult. Fortunately, he moves out once he's older, and being away from Fëanor allows for improvement.

And then he meets Anairë. I envision her as very loving and kind, and nurturing. She supports Fingolfin as he gains more self-confidence. I also headcanon that she wears a gold circlet in her hair at times, while Fingolfin wears a gold crown, and these both inspire Fingon to wear gold in his hair.

On that note, let's talk about Fingon. Essentially, his childhood is somewhat similar to Fingolfin's. However, there's now the added stress of being caught between Fëanor and Fingolfin's houses. He wants to make his father proud and uphold their family name, but that’s a lot for his young shoulders to handle (nor did Fingolfin and Anairë ever pressure him). I also imagine that Fingon, when he was very young, witnessed how badly Fëanor treats Fingolfin – perhaps at a family gathering when the others have gone somewhere else, and Fingon's waiting for his father, hiding behind a pillar or wall etc. It'd be frightening for young Fingon to witness that, seeing someone whom he loves and upholds as a figure of strength be hurt so much, and it would increase his fear of Fëanor too.

But, lo and behold, he becomes friends with Maedros. I'm still not sure how they met, but in any case, Fingon is glad for Maedros' kindness and admires his ability to shoulder leadership responsibilities near easily, not to mention his ease in a public crowd. Fingon ends up visiting Maedros at Fëanor's house, where Fëanor and his other sons are. You can probably imagine how that'd turn out.

Fëanor sees Fingolfin as a threat, so Fingon is also a threat by extension. I don't think Fëanor would treat Fingon with quite the same intensity, but it'd still be some form of emotional abuse. Fingon would be deeply affected by it; his own confidence would go down, and he’d think that he’s not worthy to be Fingolfin’s son or a prince of the Noldor. And let’s not get started on Fëanor’s sons (but yes, let’s).

As I mentioned in my Fëanorian headcanons post, his sons bully Fingon both out of jealousy (because Fingon is Maedros’ favourite) and anger and to get Fëanor’s approval. I imagine mainly Celegorm, Curufin, and Caranthir doing this; Amrod and Amras might take part at times (following their father and brothers’ example), but are also uncertain of whether it’s a good idea or not. Maglor probably turns a blind eye since he’s too busy perfecting his music.

Maedros would, of course, scold them for being harsh, but that doesn't solve the root of the problem. Nor does he know of how far back the hurt goes. And I think Fingon would be afraid to tell him of what’s really going on because Maedros loves his family a lot. Fingon fears that, if he told him, Maedros would get upset and possibly resent Fingon, and he might not want to be friends anymore. And Fingon doesn't want that. All in all, it’s all very emotionally exhausting, and I think that Fingon would have some crying sessions to himself, since those can be quite cathartic.

Fingolfin doesn't know what’s going on at first either; I think he’d expect that Fingon would be safe with Maedros. But then he ends up recognizing Fingon’s behaviour and how similar it is to what he had, and he asks Fingon about it one day, and Fingon breaks down and tells him everything. Fingolfin comforts him, of course, and tells him not to listen to what the Fëanorians say, and even shares his own experiences so that Fingon knows he isn’t alone. And Fingon doesn't feel alone anymore. Fingolfin becomes his greatest supporter hereafter.

But boy oh boy, now Fingolfin is furious. This is when I imagine his ferocity comes up; he goes to Fëanor and confronts him about it, and Fëanor is startled by Fingolfin’s fierce side since he’s never seen it before. You can think of it as something similar to my painting of angry Fingon, if you like XDD And this is where Fingolfin shows that he is capable of defending others, if not himself. He is fully prepared to protect Fingon however he needs to. And after this, I think Maedros would have to come over to Fingolfin’s house, since Fingon isn’t about to go over to Fëanor’s house and be bullied more (nor would Fingolfin allow it).

(As a side note, Fingolfin showing his fierce side doesn't really help with regard to Fëanor’s suspicions. In fact, it may even increase them a bit, if not a lot.)

Like Fingolfin, I headcanon that Fingon grows up to be good at diplomacy and stuff, but he is also kind and compassionate, quiet and solemn. And also aroace, since I go with the version of canon where he doesn't marry and has no children. I’m sure he’d be a good partner, but all this in consideration, he’d worry about not being good enough as a father, and he wouldn’t want to put his child through the same pain that he and Fingolfin went through. His family’s well-being is his priority, and he loves them dearly. And on that note (if y’all are still reading this ^^;;), let’s bring in Turgon and Aredhel :D

So Fingon has some siblings now! He loves them so much he thinks his heart will burst. It’s only until there’s a family gathering, and Turgon encounters Fëanor’s sons, that Fingon realizes his duty to protect his little brother from suffering the same hurts as Fingon did. In fact, he gets angry when one of the Fëanorians – Celegorm still seems the likeliest one to me, or Curufin loll – insult Turgon, or something like that. And just like Fingolfin, one of Fingon’s strengths is to defend others (even if he’s still not confident enough to defend himself). Because of Fingon’s protection and the combined family nurturing, Turgon grows up stern and confident and with a firm dislike of the Fëanorians. As canon says, he becomes good friends with Finrod (gosh I haven’t even started thinking of headcanons for the Arafinweans aaahhh). I also think of him as a very good architect with excellent visualization. And, of course, he loves his elder brother like no other :’’’)

Aredhel, on the other hand, befriends Celegorm and Curufin (as said in the Silmarillion). How did that happen, you ask? I’m not so sure myself lmao The best idea I have so far is that the two brothers thought her fierceness and spunk impressive for a Nolofinwëan, and they found that she was more risk-taking and no-nonsense than they gave her credit for. As for her, she wants to explore and hunt and be a badass, and it seems that she can learn to do some, if not all, of those things by being with them. And yet I also headcanon that Aredhel adores Fingon as her older brother, so how does this dynamic play out?

An example I have is a little scenario that I thought up; in her youth, Aredhel overhears Celegorm talking crap about Fingon, and gets angry with him. She says she’ll never speak to him again unless he apologizes, but he’s not about to. So she goes to Fingon and tells him. Essentially, he says that he’ll be alright and she doesn't have to worry (he’s not brave enough to defend himself, but he’ll defend her if Celegorm spoke ill of her). Eventually, Celegorm does apologize to Aredhel about it, but it’s not genuine (something like those “I’m sorry I made you feel that way” apologies). She accepts the apology anyway, even though he technically didn’t do her any wrong. This is because she genuinely wants to be his friend, and if she did notice that it wasn’t genuine, she denies it because she wants to believe it was.

I think she becomes more aware of what’s going on between Fëanor and Fingolfin’s houses, but she still wants to keep the connection between Fëanor’s sons and herself. I haven’t really developed that far into her relation with them yet, just her and her family ^^;;

Finally we have Argon. He’s the youngest of the siblings, and at this point there’d be an age gap between him and Fingon. Since Fingon’s settling in his duty as a prince and doing princely things (alongside spending time with his friends and all), I’d imagine he’s not able to keep as good an eye on Argon as he did with Turgon and Aredhel. Nevertheless, he forms the closest bond with Argon due to the shared emotional exhaustion they experience; I headcanon that Argon is deeply affected by the tensions and stress between Fëanor and Fingolfin’s house, and it takes a toll on him as a young child. So he gets some social anxiety and is afraid of large crowds, but when big brother Fingon is with him, he feels a little braver.

And there we are! My headcanons for the Nolofinwëans, as requested :) I might’ve forgotten something, but for now, this is all I have. Thank you for reading this far, if you did!! It was super long, and I’m sorry to have bored anyone ^^;; I actually thought about writing a fic of Fingon’s childhood, but I doubt that’ll happen anytime soon hahaa Thanks again for messaging me anon, and I hope you have a good day/night! <333

#asks #anon asks #house of fingolfin #meta #nolofinweans #once again i worked on my reply while at work loll #man this was a lot of writing #feels good to get it all down on a docs tho #cuz before this it was all in my head #and in various tags scattered across my art of the nolofinweans XDD #some other headcanons include #fingon doing his siblings hair with his gold ribbons at one point or another #weaving argon's hair with his gold accessories helps to calm argon down #aredhel likes to wear her hair long #but she loves it when fingon gives her a little makeover #and turgon is content in any case hahaa

[atlasxrose]

@xander-amyntoros​

The first day had passed, and while Atlas could not gather the will to get out of bed, he instead remained buried under the covers. In his gut a gnarled and hateful beast twisted upon itself, he blamed himself, he blamed his sister, he blamed Xander, he blamed Anastasia, he blamed the rifts, and he even found it in himself to blame Ajax. As if the reaper could be held accountable for his own death. The first day his lover had permitted Atlas’s indulgence of the dark, the quiet despondence that had overtaken the witch turned fury turned human. He supposed he understood it, if anyone understood pain and loss, it was Hephaestion. 

The second day Xander had made attempt at drawing open the blinds, at forcing light and fresh air into the foul-smelling chamber. He teased him that he needed a shower, but instead of coming back with a jest of his own or some sarcastic remark, Atlas merely rolled over and pulled the blankets over his head. He didn’t eat, and he hardly drank. The world was quiet, still, and when he heard the door close at last, Atlas got up only to close the curtains. 

It was the third day when Atlas cried at last, it was accidental in a way. He awoke at some point in either the late evening or early morning - time was beginning to be something that Atlas thought on less and less. But when he awoke in the dark, with nothing but the deep snores of Xander beside him the thready wheezes of Kyon at their feet, Atlas reached for his phone. Sometimes when he couldn’t sleep he’d text him, and it was only when he was mid-sentence that he realized no one would be on the other end to receive it. 

His sobs had robbed Xander of whatever sleep he’d hoped to get that night, and instead he held Atlas against his battle-scarred chest until at last exhaustion overtook him once more and Hypnos spirited him away. Atlas awoke the next afternoon to the sound of Kyon whining at the end of the bed, Xander had been taking her to work the last few days, if only to give Atlas space to grieve. But, she wanted to be let out, she needed to be fed, to be given water, and if he didn’t do this then this room really was going to reek. 

Atlas let her out into the backyard and lingered in the door frame as she ran circles through the grass, herding invisible animals she’d likely never even met. He let his thoughts wander to goats, maybe another dog, the cats he’d been talking about getting for well over a year. Atlas kind of thought it was unfair that a sheep-dog would have nothing to shepherd, no friends other than the pair of men who doted on her as if she were a child. 

That night he managed to sleep, though his ear did not leave Xander’s chest, the steady thrum of the man’s heartbeat beneath his ear kept him warm, kept reminding him that they were alive. He let himself wonder for the first time what Ajax would say, what Ajax would do, he wondered only to himself in the dead of the dark if his friend had found happiness on the other side. So, the next day when he woke, he did so when Xander rose to leave for work, and saw him off even if a part of him wished the man could always stay. The museum had survived the storm, but the artifacts within were vulnerable, and they needed someone with knowledge and experience to oversee them and any reparations that were to occur. 

That morning when he let Kyon outside, he went with her. Off chain as Xander had so often put it. As a witch he’d always been attuned to nature, he could feel the magic in the buried roots of trees, the power that emanated from herbs and flowers. As a fury, magic was still part of his existence but it was... Different. Loud. There was an undercurrent of spite to it, of anger. It seeped into his bones and distilled his actions, his thoughts. It was like fire under his nerves, and Atlas had become so accustomed to it over the last few months that he hadn’t noticed it. 

Atlas and Kyon wandered from the yard, to the forest, and his footsteps must have followed a familiar path because after a few short hours of hiking, the now-human found himself in front of a hovel. Overgrown in its entirety, the fallen tree was now unrecognizable from the haven that it had once been, covered in lichen and faunce, as if still bewitched by the magic that had formed it, late-winter butterflies, and early-spring critters roamed it. He knelt into the soft grass, the earth that quenched and sank beneath his feet, and felt the forest beneath his fingertips.  Kyon wined for attention, then took off to busy herself by chasing about the creatures that she saw as toys: butterflies cowered in fear, squirrels ran off in terror, and Atlas could only laugh at her small displays of power. 

This place had been his refuge once, a place to hide away from the monsters of his past, and there, buried deep within, Atlas knew what lurked there still. What he had hoped to keep forgotten forever, it was a grudge, a curse from his past, one that pulled on his heart even now. He had no strength left in him to be petty, to be hateful, to be afraid, to resent anyone - it’s not what Ajax would have wanted. Atlas knew that, and however strong the trio had been, Jax was always the best of them. Deep within the rotted tree that was once his earthen home, Atlas found that which he’d kept secret, a jar, with a simple blue light within. There was no magic within the soul that it contained, not anymore, this purgatory that he had condemned Iris to was not his responsibility anymore. 

Atlas released the lid, and watched the spirit fade, hoping  her shade would make its way back to the Underworld where it belonged. 

On their journey home, Atlas stopped and gathered flowers as he once did, some stray herbs that always tasted better wild than they ever did when grown in a garden, or found in a market. He felt air entering his body again, felt the sun on his face, this was not magic, this was only living, and if Ajax was here then Atlas chose to believe that his friend would find a way to convince him to find a purpose in continuing. He was no longer a witch, no longer a weapon carved for vengeance - he was something else. Atlas was human, and perhaps at last he and Xander could have the life together they always wanted. 

When Atlas got home he had a long overdue shower, Kyon wined at the door the entire time, and after he was done thoroughly scrubbing the week’s worth of misery from his body, he set to hanging the flowers he’d hung across the kitchen window. The rich scent of lavender, hyacinth, and roses muddled with thyme and fragrant basil, all combined to be sweet, fragrant, rich. Atlas had intended to cook something for dinner, but he’d sat in front of his loom that he had moved to the kitchen window and lost track of time until he heard Xander enter through the front door and immediately head towards the bedroom. 

“I’m in here!” Atlas called out, he felt lighter now, still sad, perhaps there was a part of him that would always be sad. But he’d buried Jax months ago, and when he had done so last Atlas had supplemented the void that the man left with hate and vengeance. He chose this time to replace what he’d lost with love, and hope, that was his true nature, that was his destiny. Atlas saw that now, saw the spellbinding effect of being a fury for what it was, and all the years of grief he’d gone through that led him to that point. Kyon had been snoozing on his feet up until Xander opened the front door, now she bolted towards him, barking and yearning for attention. Atlas set his shuttle down and looked to Xander now as the other entered the kitchen, “I went outside today, you’d be proud.” 

#convo:xander #just cut everything except the last two paragraphs I'm so sorry #death tw #grief tw

[sweethazelnut]

I realized that most of the characters in AoEx has a tragic backstory, but Shima fucking Renzou though. His story seems mild when compare to others, and he doesn’t have an arc for it (yet)? But it’s just so goddamn depressing.

Renzou is pretty much ignored by his siblings, or at least being treated very differently. Take this greetings for example.

And compare it to how they greet Gozou.

And was Kinzou’s kick REALLY neccessary? Also, what’s up with Gozou greeting Ryuji, but doesn’t even bother acknowledging his younger sibling!?!? Even his little sister... totally disregarding Renzou for Konekomaru.

Well, that’s fine, cause your parent loves you right? RIGHT?

The first person Yaozou asked about was Ryuji. THEN, Konekomaru. (just look at Renzou’s face. I. Am. Crying.) He then proceed to praise Koneko for his actions. AND when Renzou tried to get his father’s attention by telling him he got injured...

Yaozou straight up hit him! and basically call him a good for nothing. Kato-sensei most likely takes a comedic approach to this to avoid delving into the whole subject. But if you think about it. REALLY think about it. This really is fucking heartbreaking, because neglect IS a form of abuse.

Renzou obviously harbor some deep resentments for this. I’m not saying that he doesn’t love his friends, because he does. But they are practically the same age, but why is it his duty to prioritize his friends’ lives over his own?!? Just look at his expression to what Koneko said...

Talk about bad parenting. NO PARENTS in their right mind would allow their son to become a spy at the age of fifteen. In Yaozou’s defense, he DID protest. But it’s always been duty before family in this household hasn’t it? Yaozou didn’t even question the true reasoning behind his son’s decision. To get away from his obligations AND expectations.

Again, I think Renzou does love and truly care for his friends and family, but this is a boy who’s just tired of everything and is resorting to a life threatening profession for an escape. This is his cry for help. And NO ONE even bother to look close enough.

Like being born into the Shima family, and having to protect and serve the Myodah isn’t enough, Renzou inherited Yamantaka from his deceased brother piling EVEN MORE expectations onto the boy. But it’s not just another expectation though. Takezou is the first-born son, THE pride of Shima family, The Perfect Heir. And Yaozou and the others kept reminding Renzou that he should live his life honouring his brother.

Does this look like an expression of someone who’s proud or even ready to take up the task?

But how do you live up to perfection though? YOU FUCKING CAN’T! And telling a child to disregard their own individuality, to walk in the footstep of someone else is just SO messed up. The combination of survivor’s guilt, neglect, and the freakishly high expectations and responsibilities is just TOO MUCH for a boy.

No wonder Renzou has ISSUES. All the boy wanted is just a normal childhood, to be acknowledge for who he truly is, and NOT a to-be-perfect copy of someone who he doesn’t even know.

Renzou IS depressed, and have layers upon layers of other issues that he can’t possibly cope on his own. He needs attention, Acknowledgement, AND LOVE. But with all the different masks he put on, no one is able to see through it.

My heart goes out for this beautiful angsty boy.

#shima renzou #boy needs some love #Renzou musing #Quarantine rambling #ao no exorcist #blue exorcist

[horde-princess]

A Meta on Catra’s Relationships with DT, Scorpia, and Adora

I’m so excited to write this finally ljsdflkj okay so. I’ve been thinking about why the creators would choose to center a whole season around this new character Double Trouble. They drove the plot and played a major role in a really important part of the story, Catra’s redemption. So I wanna think more about the purpose of this character and go deeper into a couple of their scenes with Catra.

tbh Catra and DT’s very first interaction says it all: DT literally takes the form of Scorpia and tells Catra “I’m about to become your new best friend.” As the season goes on, Double Trouble replaces Scorpia as a sort of artificial confidant for Catra. But it blows up in her face and the purpose of the whole thing is to shed light on Catra’s main internal conflict: her desire for love vs. her fear of heartbreak/vulnerability.

In other words, I believe Double Trouble was introduced as a foil to Scorpia. But if we think about how Scorpia is also a foil to Adora, then that means DT is like... a foil to a foil. So they’re not directly associated with Adora but a lot of what they do relates back to her. Yeah there are a lot of layers here lmao but basically what I’m gonna analyze is how Catra’s relationships with these three characters intertwine and build off each other in season 4 to set the stage for Catra’s redemption (and catradora endgame hollaaa)

So in the beginning, Catra and DT both understand their relationship to be a business arrangement. When does that start to change for Catra, and why?

Catra’s History With Betrayal

Just think about Catra’s relationships at the start of s4.. After the portal, Adora had basically severed whatever was left of their relationship, and that was shown to be weighing on Catra all season. Scorpia and Entrapta were the only other people she cared about, but Entrapta betrayed her (first by monopolizing Hordak’s attention then by refusing to open the portal), then Scorpia dared to question her decision to send their friend to die and her presence became a constant reminder of Catra’s guilt. In fact, the mere mention of Entrapta’s name in 4x03 causes Catra to snap and yell at Scorpia “we are not friends!” ... which of course isn’t true. Catra may think Scorpia’s annoying but she confided in her, her loyalty made Catra feel like she could trust her.. and that’s exactly why Catra always tried so hard to push her away. All the betrayals in her life scarred her so deeply that she wanted to avoid emotional intimacy at all costs. I’m about to get Jungian up in this shit bc we see a deep disconnect between Catra’s outward actions (her conscious) and her inner desires (subconscious) this season and it’s this i believe that leads to her breakdown in 4x10. It’s an unsustainable way to live.

Why Catra Trusted Double Trouble

So by 4x04, Catra had sabotaged her only two relationships. She was utterly alone, and vulnerable, and Double Trouble was in the right place at the right time offering their loyalty to her.. so Catra did what any emotionally stable person would do and subconsciously used a hired mercenary to try and fill the growing void in her heart. I don’t think Catra actually cared about DT much at all, like sure they got along and that matters on some level, but I think it’s more that Catra was in a vulnerable place and DT was the only one around.

So why does Catra trust Double Trouble when she won’t let herself trust anyone else? I’ve seen some posts saying it’s because Catra is self-destructive--i.e. she only seeks love from people who won’t give it to her because she doesn’t believe she deserves love--which is super true.. but I think her motivations can be better explained by saying that Catra knew from the start that Double Trouble didn’t really care about her, and that’s why the partnership was attractive to her (at first). She thought it would be safe--no vulnerability, no risk of heartbreak. But the truth is Catra’s just not as disaffected as she wishes she was.

The moment Catra really let her guard down was when Double Trouble saved her from the collapsing building in 4x04. 

can we just!! talk about this scene!!!! the way her voice shakes when she says “saving me” just, oh my god... like what a touchy subject for her, right? Shes spent her whole life resenting how Adora was always trying to “save” her from everything. I’m not sure but I think White Out (2x05) was the only other time Catra thanked someone for saving her life, and she just says “thanks for getting us out of there.” So her use of the word “save” here is special and it illustrates how deeply vulnerable Catra feels this season, and more importantly it’s a sign of character development! It’s no coincidence that the theme of saving is connected between DT, Scorpia, and Adora. It’s leading up to Catra learning to replace her resentment towards Adora with something closer to gratitude. 

But while the scene connects these relationships, it also highlights their differences. After Catra displays an astounding amount of vulnerability with DT, they coolly reply “well, I live to serve... for a price, of course.”

This right here is the first step of Catra’s breakdown. Suppressed desires making themselves known, one half of her heart rebelling against the other. She was pushing away her real friends and finding hollow companionship with someone she thought she wouldn’t get attached to, but it happened anyway.

The difference between Double Trouble and Scorpia must have become glaringly obvious to Catra in that moment. Whereas Scorpia was loyal to Catra out of love, DT was mostly interested in getting paid. And she was surprised by how much that hurt. She fucking hated how much it hurt, you can see it written all over her face. It’s why she fails Scorpia’s little test in 4x06. Because of Double Trouble, Catra’s true desires were threatening to break free, so outwardly she fights against it and acts more resistant than ever to being friends with Scorpia. She castigates her, calls her annoying and incompetent, harsher than we’ve ever seen... but she didn’t expect Scorpia to hit back (we did, tho. Scorpia’s an icon).

In four words Scorpia teaches Catra a hard lesson about what it means to earn someone’s loyalty. She knew she must’ve really fucked up if she somehow managed to push away the most loyal person in all of Etheria. And again the fake nature of Catra’s relationship with Double Trouble provides a reference for her to see why Scorpia’s loyalty, based in love, was so valuable, and why she shouldn’t have taken it for granted. It also relates to Adora because, similar to Scorpia, Adora had been trying so hard these past 3 seasons to connect with Catra, but she refused to forgive her and her behavior eventually forced Adora to cut ties. So Scorpia calling her out pushes Catra towards accepting some personal responsibility for everything that happened with Adora, too. Man there are just.. a ton of implications here.

Then Catra gives Hordak a fun pep talk but really it’s just her self-projecting all over him:

At this point her hateful actions and her goal to conquer Etheria are extremely out of line with her true desires and we can see it’s really affecting her mental state. It wasn’t just one thing or person that caused her breakdown, it was a combination of Adora severing their relationship, and Scorpia’s disappointment in her, and Double Trouble’s indifference towards her. All three of these situations were playing off each other and chipping away at Catra’s carefully crafted armor, revealing a desire to be loved hidden underneath... which she continued to fight against for as long as she could. Adora and Scorpia were playing their roles in helping Catra learn to take responsibility for her life, but those relationships wouldn’t have been so effective had it not been for how they were contrasted with Double Trouble’s indifference. Anyway have I mentioned how amazing and complex this show is????

Catra Loses DT and Scorpia Around the Same Time

4x07 is the last time Catra talks to Double Trouble before they get captured by the rebels. Coincidentally, Catra realizes that Scorpia left her just one episode later, which once again points to a connection between these two characters. From 4x08 to 4x11 Catra is completely alone, feeling like she has lost everyone in her life. It sets the stage for her meltdown in 4x10. But my fave part about Scorpia leaving is how it changes the way Catra thinks about betrayal. 

Even if Scorpia didn’t tell Catra where she was going in the note she left, Catra had to have assumed she was leaving to join the Rebellion because where else would she have gone right? So the two people Catra loves most have now BOTH abandoned her to join the rebellion. I don’t even wanna think about how triggering that betrayal must have been for Catra.. I don’t wanna think about how the next time Catra sees Scorpia she’s going to be a full blown princess with powers and everything, just like what happened with Adora. 

But there’s a key difference between Adora and Scorpia. Catra knows at this point that Adora didn’t want to leave her behind, but she did anyway to pursue some destiny that Catra wasn’t a part of, which left her feeling betrayed. Scorpia, on the other hand--the very definition of ‘loyalty’--left her specifically because Catra pushed her away. Her fear of vulnerability manifested as anger towards someone she refused to admit that she cared about, and it pushed her away.

Once again I think Scorpia is teaching Catra a lesson about taking responsibility for some of the shit in her life. It’s a privilege that Adora lost after being careless with Catra’s trust, and thus Scorpia was the only one in a position to reach Catra and help her. But I think that the things Catra learned from Scorpia are going to play back into her relationship with Adora and allow them to reconcile (when Adora deals with her own issues too).

We can also say a little about how Double Trouble’s betrayal contrasts with Scorpia’s and Adora’s. I think their complete emotional detachment is the perfect frame of reference for Catra to be able to acknowledge that even though Scorpia and Adora left her, they DID love her, and they never stopped trying to reach out to her--at least, not until Catra crossed a line with both of them. At some point, Catra went from being justified in her feelings of betrayal to overdoing it, placing too much blame where it didn’t belong and closing the door to forgiveness. So I think that’s the role that Double Trouble played there, helping Catra see that difference. Like even if someone leaves you, hurts you, it doesn’t always mean they don’t love you. Relationships take work and understanding and forgiveness and you have to learn how to handle that or you’ll always be alone. Scorpia’s the pure embodiment of that lesson, and she’s lighting the way for Catra to navigate the much more nebulous waters of her grudge against Adora.

Double Trouble’s Betrayal

So now Catra is feeling abandoned by Scorpia and Double Trouble (her only friends) and we see the disconnect between what’s in her heart and the front she’s been putting on come to a head in 4x10 when she has that meltdown. She’s kind of losing it because her fear and heartbreak are driving her down a path that she doesn’t actually want. It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion. In 4x12 she continues to hold on desperately to the idea that beating Adora will make her happy, because at this point she doesn’t see any way to turn the car around.

There’s an absolutely fantastic scene early in 4x12 that sets up Double Trouble’s betrayal beautifully, like really it’s a masterpiece. Catra’s childhood friends walk in on her in the locker room and they’re laughing and joking around and for a second it’s like... Catra longs to be a part of that again.. To have friends, to be happy. But then Kyle accidentally kicks one of Scorpia’s old doodles (a painful reminder that she’s gone) and Catra freaks out and attacks them. Kyle’s like “we used to be friends, why are you treating us like this?” So she lets them leave, feeling alone and miserable, and THAT’S when Double Trouble waltzes in... having had just made a deal with Glimmer to double cross Catra.

God it hurts so much. The contrast between her pushing away Scorpia and her real friends, and then her childlike relief upon seeing the person who just sold her out.

This scene gives me fucking chills with the nightmare-ish music and everything.. It’s like, at this point DT is just fucking with her, they’ve already got Catra figured out. This face touch is so cruel and fits with the show’s motif of manipulative affection, too. For me it felt very disconcerting to see Catra like this... unaware that she’s been defeated yet she’s so emotionally vulnerable here, she’s like putty in Double Trouble’s hands. Scorpia leaving cracked her open and, as they’re the last person left standing with Catra’s trust, Double Trouble’s in the perfect position to come in and break her.

So the next episode 4x13 has that crazy scene where Double Trouble totally obliterates Catra and I’m not even gonna talk about it lmao because yall have already done a great job analyzing it. But I do wanna draw attention to the fact that this is the only thing she says in this whole scene:

Can you believe that’s what mattered the most to her in that moment? Not that literally everything she had been working for for the past 4 seasons had just turned to dust before her eyes, but the fact that this random mercenary she hired betrayed her. And there was no anger at all, just... heartbreak.

And then look at what she says to Glimmer afterwards (setting aside the fact that Catra is basically giving up on life...) she says nothing about the war, nothing about winning or revenge. The only thing she’s thinking about is how lonely she feels.

So by the end of Season 4, I think Catra did finally figure out what she truly wanted in life. She didn’t want to be on top just for power’s sake, she wanted people to respect her, to love her, so that no one could hurt her anymore. But she was so obsessed with winning that she ended up losing everyone’s respect. Wow haha if only she could get a second chance to earn it back the right way.... like say if, idk, she was trapped in space jail and forced to team up with her sworn enemy to survive and they came out best friends or something <:)

To sum up, Double Trouble’s role in Season 4 was to break Catra’s mask and force her to consider what she truly wants. I think their betrayal taught Catra to really appreciate what a terrible mistake she made in pushing Scorpia and Adora away. It taught her the difference between someone leaving her because they don’t care about her, and someone cutting ties with her even though they do care for her very deeply, they just couldn’t take Catra treating them like crap anymore. It showed her that what Adora did was nothing like what DT did. That’s what a betrayal feels like when the person doesn’t care about you. Someone who doesn’t care about you isn’t going to beg for your forgiveness for 3 seasons and risk being obliterated from existence just to get you back.

But the real beauty of season 4 was how Catra hitting rock bottom had almost nothing to do with Adora. With the help of other friends Catra has begun to find her own reasons to change, she’s acknowledging her guilt and heartbreak and discovering the person she wants to become. She’s learning to take responsibility instead of just blaming other people. And this character development had nothing to do with romance, just like how Adora breaking free of her destiny and learning to let go of control had little to do with Catra. I love the different perspectives on love that they give us with Catra, Adora, and Scorpia. I love how this show takes the “love conquers all” trope and subverts it, saying that sometimes.. love breaks you. Sometimes it’s not enough. Sometimes it’s used as a weapon. Sometimes you have to let go of people you love, but it opens up space for you to figure out who you are and what you want and to conquer your own demons. You’ll come out the other side with a better understanding of what real, healthy love is supposed to look like. And maybe in the end, the love you always sought will find you again, in its own time, in its own way. 💘

#OK THIS IS... A LOT. EVEN FOR ME LMAO #she ra #meta #season 4 is my fave so far i just had a lot of feelings to work through ok #would love to hear what yall think xoxo happy new year's!!

[snowflake-of-destruction]

Imagine Roxas and Axel babysitting for Sora and Riku

Teamwork

"I like adding spontaneous, fun extra challenges to the day as much as the next guy, provided the next guy is you, but I have to say, I think Floor is Lava Tuesdays is a better idea than weird plastic puzzle locks on the cabinets."

Roxas glanced up from where he knelt on the floor, fixing covers and bars on the under the sink cabinets in the kitchen to see his husband framed in the doorway, looking the casual print ad model, chiseled lines under soft sweats, hands curled around a mug of steaming liquid that smelled almost as delicious as the holder (of course the mug was emblazoned with the word SLUT in bold letters which would probably have to be censored out of the ad), bun with just enough flyaways to seem careless but pulled to the perfect angle.  "I'm baby proofing."

"As the baby, I resent that remark," Axel tutted before setting his coffee next to the sink and crouching down beside Roxas. "What brought this on? You have some news to tell me?"

Axel expected an eye roll from his husband, but Roxas set the angry looking plastic finger trap he was holding down and ran a hand through his hair nervously, a mild pink tinge crawling up his neck and Axel felt his smile freeze in the middle of forming.  "Well, actually, I do have some news..."

"You're kidding." Axel felt his blood run cold and then super heated through his veins in quick succession as time slowed down.

Roxas's frown at the interruption morphed to a furrowed brow of confusion and then annoyance. "Axel, I told you already. Replica bodies don't work that way. I'm not going to 'go seahorse'"

"Xion can..."

"Xion is a special case. You are stuck with me with no alterations."

"Eh, I still have the much better end of the deal."

"Yeah, you do."

A shared smile and a quick kiss distracted Axel a moment longer from asking, "So what's the news?"

"I told Sora and Riku we'd babysit for them tonight." Roxas ripped the bandage off quickly. He braced for a less than enthusiastic response, though actually receiving one was still disappointing.

"Listen, I'm sorry about the acknowledgements. Every book I write is dedicated to 'my heart, my love, my Roxas.' I thought that was a given by now, and I just had to write what other dedications would come after it. It was the publisher's fault, and I should not be punished."

"I'm not punishing you," Roxas felt his face wilt as he picked back up the baby proofing supplies to finish what he had started. "I thought it would be fun. Riku and Sora really need a night out, and it gives us a chance to, you know, see what it's like."

It wasn't that Axel missed Roxas's hurt tone or his latter words and their meaning, even if they had been mumbled. It was more a combination of not wanting to be lured toward a slippery slope of manipulation or ready to revisit the conversation of whether he felt they should start seriously thinking about adding to their family soon rather than a general "some day" they'd always said before. Roxas had brought it up last week, and Axel appreciated that he had, but it hadn't exactly gone well when he'd been taken by surprise and his gut instinct response was less enthusiastic than Roxas had seemed to want. He was letting the idea soak in now, and it needed a little more time to marinate before he could give a response. If Roxas was going to push, it would probably need even more time. So it was better not to toe too closely to the sensitive, personal part of baby discussion and do what they both had the inclination to always go back to, deflection with a joke. "To let a Babynort into the house?"

"Ripan is not a Nort." Roxas hissed defense of his other's son since Sora and Ripan couldn't defend themselves.

"Then how come he has white hair? Answer me that," Axel challenged.

"He has silver hair. Like Riku. Riku's genes are the only inherited evil Ripan has and I don't think we should hold that against him. He's just a baby."

"No, no, babies are adorable balls for holding and cooing at and then handing back to their parents. Terrifying because their heads are squishy and they can't hold them up, but otherwise not dangerous at all. This thing is mobile. I've seen it." Axel lent the revelation the appropriate air of horror, though he neglected to mention he'd seen Ripan crawling up a wall, imitating either one of his fathers or the younger Incredible boy, which rendered his warning easily mistaken for his typical melodrama.

"That's why I'm baby proofing."

"Did you get the upstairs?"

"It's not going to be able to climb the stairs by itself...Is it?"

Axel thought it over since the stair thing seemed to alarm Roxas. "Probably more easily than it could get to the ceiling. I'm just going to feed it ice cream and hope that appeases it."

"I don't think it..he can have ice cream yet. Sora said he was going to write us a list of rules."

Axel's attitude toward the night ahead of them turned on a dime when the suggestion that someone else thought he was less than capable intruded to punch at his ego.  "Rules like what? We know what to do."

"Damn straight." Roxas stood, dusted off his hands, and stole Axel's coffee off the counter.

"We'd be great with kids," Axel insisted, reaching out to take the coffee back, taking a sip, and returning it to Roxas.

"That's right," Roxas encouraged.

"We take care of Demyx!" Axel could honestly say that he'd fed, bathed, and rocked Demyx to sleep under different circumstances. Luckily, no diapers had ever been involved. "We're Turkey's dads!"

"And he's the most demanding little baby of all!" Roxas championed Axel's logic even while being reminded that he'd forgotten to feed Turkey before starting his project with the cabinets. He'd have to rectify that now. It was a miracle Turkey wasn't already dramatically expressing the utter betrayal of being left to starve.

"Next to me," Axel provided the punchline at his expense.

"Next to you." Roxas leaned up on tiptoe to steal a kiss and pressed the coffee cup with its last sips at the bottom into his husband's hands for him to finish off. "Now go put on something more suitable for tonight."

"What's more suitable than sweats for babysitting a baby? A tarp?" Axel drained the coffee.

"Put on something nice."

"Is Ripan conducting a formal interview before storytime?"

"No, but his dads might."

Roxas's instincts turned out to be right. Sora and Riku not only had a list of rules but a pop quiz on protocol and babysitting readiness that needed to be passed before they would leave, despite the fact that Roxas and Axel, already had the job, were doing it as a favor, were only taking Ripan for a few hours and not permanently adopting him and taking him into the heart of Deep Jungle, and Riku and Sora's normal babysitter was a fifteen year old girl (though Violet had warned them that she might have to cut back even more than she had. Ripan and her brother Jack Jack tended to be "a little challenging" in her words, when she had to watch both of them).

Ripan's part of the testing was to sit on the floor sucking on his giraffe pacifier and rolling an alphabet block between his hands, occasionally looking up with large, liquid blue eyes either to question why he was sitting on a strange floor or to ask why his dads were still there. Or maybe to ask why the other baby curled in the entertainment center next to the cable box was so ugly and meowed.

"I promise you. Ripan is going to have so much fun tonight he's never going to want to leave...but he's also going to be asleep by nine and I won't forget to rub the cream on his arms before I put on his sleepytime shirt," Roxas swore, crossing his heart over the I like coffee and maybe three people shirt he'd neglected to change out of despite telling Axel to look nice.

"Okay, I believe in you," Sora assured him before selling out his husband. "But Riku sincerely does not. So can you please promise me you will take extra good care of our little angel? I know he's kind of a handful, but-"

"Are you kidding?" Axel chuckled, unperturbed. "You're talking to the best babysitters in the business. There is no one more qualified for this job."

"You've literally never done this before," Riku groused, hands clenching in his pockets as he regressed to his old nervous tick.

"We are totally capable of taking care of your precious angel, okay? It's not like we don't have kids too." Roxas gestured to the entertainment center where Turkey sat, eyeing the miniature human. It had eyes like His Boy, so Turkey thought he might be able to trust it, but the threat of someone else Heat Giver and His Boy might want to snuggle that was not Turkey was hard to face.

"That's why I'm concerned," Riku concentrated on breathing evenly through his nose and not sounding too snappish. "That is not a child. That is a cat in a knit sweater."

"We'll be fine," Roxas insisted, ignoring Riku's slight, when defending Turkey's status as first child would make Sora and Riku miss their reservation. "We have your list and everything he needs. You two just enjoy yourselves!"

"See, it's fine, Riku." Sora nudged Riku toward the door. "Bye Ripan! Behave yourself for your uncles!"

Ripan gurgled solemnly, swearing to be nothing but the perfect child.

"Have fun guys! We'll be back around eleven!" Sora nudged Riku a bit harder, recognizing him for the immoveable object he was. "Riku stop glaring and walk."

Roxas opened the door for them, Axel waved to them as they retreated, Roxas closed the door. It was a total of maybe fifteen seconds they didn't have eyes on Ripan. The first fifteen seconds they were in charge of the vulnerable life of the baby that had been sitting near motionless and content in the living room for fifteen minutes. The baby that was still sitting content after those fifteen seconds and still near motionless, just with his pacifier out of his mouth and on the floor beside him and his mouth working as if he were chewing.

Axel and Roxas shared a glance and dove at the same time. Ripan shrieked, which should have proved his mouth was empty, but Axel used the opportunity to sweep a finger inside the child's mouth to make sure. Ripan employed natural defenses. Namely, biting down as hard as he could with his four impressive teeth.

Axel howled. Ripan laughed which allowed the red head to withdraw his injured hand. Roxas comforted Axel, for a moment, then warned him not to take his eyes off Ripan again because they might not get lucky again, and went to wash floor germs from the pacifier for the first, but, by no means, last time of the night. Minute one drew to a close with everyone still unscathed.

Minute fifteen gave birth to everyone's least favorite game, Turkey Chase and Smack, though Crawl Behind Couch gave it a difficult battle for the title.

At the end of the first hour, a nice balance had been found and everyone was getting along until Axel tried to heat up a bottle by summoning fire in his hand and subsequently scalded his wrist while testing results, as well as putting the idea of fire into Ripan's head. Sora had been right. Ripan was very smart and liked to try and mimic what the big people did. The living room couch suffered.

The next hurdles were The Incident of the Second Bottle Being Too Cold, The Great Despair of not Being Able to Have Both Bottle and Pacifier at the Same Time, Bottle Gone Too Quick, The Pukening, Second Washing of the Pacifier and Trial of Separation Anxiety, The Changing of the Onesies with Ripan Super Spleen Kicking Action, and The Pukening Part Two: Roxas's Shirt Looks Absorbent.

It was all minor stuff. Normal stuff. Expected, other than perhaps setting fire to the couch.

The real trouble didn't begin until the pacifier was lost.

#akuroku #snippets #soriku #future fic #fanfiction #the adventures of ripan the invincible possibly part one of more #sorry this was going to be longer but i was having a focus problem #Anonymous #this has been a shakeflake endeavor #🧂❄️

[c-ptsdrecovery]

Reading up again on covert narcissism has been really helping me explain some things about my trauma and about my mom’s behavior. Like, I knew she was a covert narcissist, but I’d forgotten how tortuous the workings of a CN’s brain are. Some things I’ve realized, involving some quoting from the above source:

--They want you to feel a confusion between praise and shame, and to feel that you are less than them. It’s a combination of “How dare you achieve?!” and “But you’re still not as good as me.”

--Their praise contains negging. That’s why even when she complimented me, I never felt like I was good enough. Just like the time she read my dissertation and went, “It’s okay... bit dry.” She could always argue that I had myself said it was the more boring version of the dissertation, could argue that other things she had read of mine were better... But at the end of the day, I heard her intended message loud and clear: it’s not good enough.

--Her praise at required times (like telling me I did a good job after a school concert or something) always felt less sincere than my dad’s and I could never figure out why. Well, it’s because deep down she 1) resented that I did well, 2) resented that I had the attention in that situation, and 3) wanted to tear down my self esteem so I would see her as better than me, and so that she could more easily manipulate me in the future

--You can never do things well enough for them. They always have to do things better than you. That’s why I was never good enough at chores, especially cooking and dishwashing. That’s always why she came up with ridiculous reasons to be angry at me every time I brought her my credit card receipts. When she could no longer argue that I was spending too much or that I didn’t give her all the receipts, she began to complain that the receipts were slightly crumpled along one edge! HEAVEN FORBID!

--They refuse to acknowledge your accomplishments. They want you to KNOW they’re not impressed. ...This really explains why she intentionally (and uncharacteristically) tied up the phone line around the time I would finish defending my dissertation so that it was 45 minutes before I could get through to tell her I passed. Because she was jealous that I was getting a PhD and she wanted me to know how little my achievement meant to her. Her jealousy of my achievement was also why her worst abuse began the week I defended (and continued for three years afterward!)

--Mom used to argue that she thought well of my achievements by telling me how she was always bragging about me to her friends. Likewise, she would tell me constantly about how her friends said nice things about me to her. But these things were not about me: they were about HER. She was using MY qualities and achievements to build up HERSELF, not me. If these things had really been self-esteem building for ME she wouldn’t have said anythign about them, because she had a vested interest in me not thinking well of myself.

--I had an absolute COMPLEX about NEVER acknowledging my own achievements or qualities--to the point where I can’t take compliments or ring my own bell AT ALL because it feels SO WRONG--because the cardinal sin of our family is to think well of ourselves. We’re only supposed to think really well of HER.

--They want you to feel unimportant and small

--They want you to know they don’t care about your time or your feelings

--No one’s time, wants, or needs matter except their own

--I still get super anxious when my mom is upset about anything, because her feelings were always my problem. She expected me and everyone else to be entirely focused on her feelings when she was upset, so even if they weren’t my fault, I was made to feel that they were my fault.

--She apologized to me once for being so cold and unloving and cried at me. I said cried AT me because the only reason she was apologizing (because she’s PERFECT; why would she apologize for anyting??) was to make me feel guilty for suspecting her of being cold and unloving, and also to get attention and narcissistic supply from me as I comforted her (which I am proud to say, I did not do). She turned it from an issue of “daughter’s feelings were hurt; let’s focus on her” to “Mom is upset; let’s focus on HER”

--They demand you abide by their wishes. Even when they don’t express them to you. I was always expected to read her mind. The fact that I couldn’t was more evidence of how I wasn’t good enough.

--She forgot me at the bus stop once, and forgot REPEATEDLY to pick me up at school after practice. She had to walk a fine line between “i’m the perfect mother” and “i want you to know that you don’t matter to me/ how dare you require that i put myself out to pick you up?”

--they ostentatiously volunteer to show what a good person they are (teaching Sunday school, joining the library board, working for Christ Among Neighbors)

--she’s extra-sickening on Facebook. “Birthday blessings be upon you, (name)!” because she wants people to know how great she is

--they want to gaslight, manipulate, and confuse you in order to destabilize and manipulate you

--”You’re so sensitive”. Even though they’re obviously the most fragile ego in the room! they can take ANYTHING as an insult! you have to GROVEL to make them believe you’re saying something nice! (this is just a way to get you to say a lot of nice things about them)

--that time i told her i was feeling suicidal and she SIGHED and ROLLED HER EYES and said, “do you need to talk to somebody?” like I was ruining her evening. She wanted me to know how little she cared about my feelings while also saying just enough to have plausible deniability later if I told her her response hurt me (”but i tried to get you help! what do you MEAN my tone of voice was mean?? you always take things the wrong way. I think you hear insults where there aren’t any.”)

--They want you to feel that your emotions, which are inconvenient to THEM, are a negative part of your psyche and a reason that other people won’t like you. They want you to feel that they are in control of their emotions,and their emotions are always right, while yours are not.

--they make you feel small and stupid for needing emotional support. THEY’RE so independent! (except when you have to stroke their egos...)

--they ignore their “loved ones” (no wonder I felt so alone as a child. even now i’m DYING for attention. when other people get attention/praise for things i know i can do as well or better than them i’m TORN because i want other people to treat ME like that, but i can’t draw their attention to myself because that’s so WRONG. and also if i DO get their attention, then i can’t take the compliments anyway.)

--they don’t need to praise others because they’re so obviously superior!

--i was always uncomfortable when my mom sang. i always felt like she thought she was SO GOOD a singer, when she was only mediocre. it always felt icky to me listening to her sing or play the flute.

--they get angry when you’re sick. GOD, that explains SO MUCH. The time i kept nearly passing out and ended up just lying on the kitchen floor because every time i sat up i felt woozy again and i asked her to make me a sandwich because my low blood sugar was part of the problem and she was clearly ANGRY and COLD and didn’t say a WORD to me as she made me the sandwich. like, your daughter is unable to get off the floor, and beyond one, “are you okay” there’s absolutely NO care there. it’s no wonder i write so much hurt/comfort wherein someone is sick and the other person Notices and Cares for them... it’s wish fulfillment!

--they’re condescending.

--they forget about your requests on purpose. she’s always buying me just slightly the wrong thing for christmas and birthdays.

--i showed her some very artistic self-affirmations i wrote once and she started disagreeing with all the nice things i said about myself. because how dare i have self-esteem when SHE was there?

--they make people fight each other. kinda explains my brother and me and our undying enmity...

--they project their own issues onto you. that’s why she tells me i’m always so angry and that i hurt people a lot with my tone of voice. and that i’m oversensitive.

--they give you the silent treatment and make you beg and plead. 

--they never try to make you happy (or if they do, it’s only for show. like buyign you SLIGHTLY  the wrong thing, over and over again. plausible deniability. “i TRIED! i was being GENEROUS! how DARE you nitpick my presents!”)

--they intentionally ruin special days for you, especially birthdays. because they resent you being the center of attention. i remember the first time she let me have a birthday party with friends instead of older relatives (she always invited my aunts and uncles to my birthday parties instead of people my age because SHE wanted to be the center of attention at the parties, not me. the parties were for HER, not for me.) at this child’s birthday party, she organized all the games and ran them all and was very much the center of attention. the only thing i really remember from that party was the game she created and led entirely.

--they don’t really know anything about you. GOD, how very true. neither of my parents have a fucking clue about my personality, my tastes, my interests, or my sense of humor. they know about them on an EXTREMELY surface level. “oh, she likes cats. she did ballet for years. she likes trees.”

--the reason mom got mad at me when i cried as a child was not, as she told me many years later, because she was upset that she was unable to comfort me adequately. The problem was that SHE wasn’t in the spotlight. she was required to pretend to care about MY feelings. She couldn’t comfott me adequately because i sensed that she was mad about me crying, rather than loving me and having compassion. she sent me to my room when i cried so i wouldn’t be the center of attention--and also to punish me for being so.

--i’m scared of spending money because mom 1) made me feel guilty for spending money on myself, because everything should be about HER [seriously, i got seriously scolded once for buying things for myself on a shopping trip instead of ONLY buying xmas presents for the family]. 2) made me scared about our financial situation because she wanted to have money for herself first and foremost for what SHE wanted. Thus her and Dad scaring the ever-living SHIT out of me last summer about finances and then turning around and buying themselves iphones.

--i’ve always felt so alone because subconsciously i always knew mom didn’t love me, even though consciously i made myself believe it. and of course i could never know if dad did, because even now, it’s a pretty fuzzy issue (which basically means he doesn’t. le sigh)

you know what? i’m going to get out that art project of self-affirmations and add some shit to it about being able to see through other people’s bullshit. because GODDAMN, i deserve a fucking MEDAL. i’m not going to let her negging make me continue to feel bad about those affirmations. because she’s just full of shit.

#narcissism #narcissistic abuse #emotional abuse #covert narcissist

[sketchy-saram]

Winter Refrain

At long last! A promised story I somehow forgot to post, LOL.

 It’s been two long years since Felix left Vesuvia, but Advieh is about to get a surprise on the night of the Winter Ball. Will it be everything that they hoped for?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Felix? Yes, I saw him heading towards the gardens. He looked...healthy. Normal. Good luck, darling. I hope...I hope it works out for you both.” 

Hope. Such a small, fragile word, and yet it beat so strongly in Advieh’s chest, warring against doubt and fear with a strength that belied its size. What had started that morning as a vague, listless duty to attend the Winter Ball had become an anxiety that almost overwhelmed them when they heard that Felix was going to attend. And yet, within all the clouds of uncertainty, the tiniest fluttering of hope still lived, unwilling to surrender.

Maybe...maybe he remembers. Maybe things can go back to the way they were. Maybe… It was the ‘maybe’ that pushed them forward when their legs wanted to freeze up, having nothing to do with the chilly winter air. They pulled the skirt of their dress higher, resenting the weight of it that dragged them down and yet grateful for any spare second. By the time they had passed the gardens to the maze, their breath was already coming in soft puffs of white. There was no sign of him, and no one else to ask. Where would he go? It was disorienting. Before, Felix was never more than a stone’s throw from them. How could those days feel like a million years ago, and just yesterday at the same time? 

They tried to swallow; their mouth was as dry as the Nopal desert. Their blood pounded loudly in their ears, especially audible in the silence of the wintery wonderland around them. Large quantities of fake snow had been magicked up for the occasion; twinkling strands of fairy lights twined around the manicured bushes and trees, and floating lanterns of soft violets and blues lit the path for anyone who might wander this far. The effects were fanciful, romantic...and only vaguely noticed by Ad, their attention stolen. 

Any sign of that familiar smiling face, the rainbow hair,  the broad shoulders...

And then, everything seemed to stop in time as they rounded a corner, greeted by the large marble fountain with its ornamental owl...and a figure that was unmistakable even from afar, sitting on the edge of the pool. Ad sucked in a breath, not moving, drinking in every detail like it was water for their parched tongue. All feeling had been sapped from their body, except the heart thumping painfully in their chest--that continuous thud reminded them that this was real.

This was happening.

He looked a bit different, although the essence of him was exactly as they remembered. His hair had grown out; still shaved at the sides, but the deep blue locks were pulled back now into a ponytail that was curling at the ends. The color was muted for Felix, but it still wasn’t a natural hue, which relieved them for some reason. The childhood scar on his lip was there, and his eyes, cinnamon-brown, were still gentle as they stared up at the twinkling snowfall. His clothes were finely-tailored and exquisite--Wren must have been working hard in her absence, Ad thought, their mind wandering. So many things. So much to take in after such a long time.

The nostalgia was like a punch to the stomach, and all the emotions that they had fought so hard to repress threatened to destroy the dam that held them. The hands holding their skirt bunched the fabric, gripping it desperately, as if to find some semblance of balance. Errant tears blurred their eyes, and stung in the cold night air. 

Maybe...maybe this had been a bad idea after all. If he remembered, if he truly remembered, he would have found them first. There was no doubt in Ad’s mind of that, and the flutter of hope dimmed. Why did it hurt so badly, that knowledge, after so long? Maybe hope was more of a burden than a help, and yet it stubbornly stayed rooted. A flower that didn’t know when to die.

Is having Felix around, even if he can’t remember, better than not having him at all?

They knew the answer to that, as well as they knew their own name. So, after what was only a few seconds but felt like an eternity, Advieh began to pick their way through the snow, their face calm, their heart hammering unfettered. 

At long last, Felix turned to look in their direction, catching their intent gaze with his own. 

And he smiled.

“I’m sorry. I kept you waiting.”

His voice sounded deeper, more...introspective, somehow. Maybe they just hadn’t heard it in such a long time? It was a little teasing, which was reassuring, and yet there was definitely a wall they weren’t used to. They remembered the wall when they went to see him, after the...after everything happened. Advieh was used to walls. Why did this one sting so much more? They fought a frantic urge to tear it down, to beg for that easy familiarity that had once irked them so much.

“I didn’t know you would be here,” they said, trying not to sound accusatory. They could feel their lips trembling. Firmed them. “When did you get back to Vesuvia?”

They were still so far apart, and yet Ad couldn’t bring themself to take another step, or to cross through that gulf--not until they knew for sure, one way or another. Knew he wasn’t here to say goodbye again. Even after all this, I’m a coward, they thought angrily. But still, they stayed put. Maybe a person only had one heartbreak in them to endure.

“Just a few days ago. I stayed with Asra in his magic shop. I wasn’t sure I would come here, I guess.” His words were even, measured, and light on the surface. But the smile he gave Advieh was sorrowful. The pit in their stomach opened up further. “I’m so sorry. I haven’t...I don’t remember much more than before. I don’t remember you. I’ve tried and tried, but I can’t. I can remember days, times, events, but there are just...holes.” 

Holes shaped like me, Ad thought, the tears welling up again. They swallowed. Hard.

He sounded tired, but also frustrated. At least they knew now. Some of the weight of uncertainty lifted, only to be replaced by the desire to soothe, but continued fear of rejection. It was a combination only Felix had ever brought out of them.

“I can’t remember any of those old memories...but I still couldn’t forget about you. About meeting you. I couldn’t stay away any more.” Those words, said more forcefully, shook Ad out of their emotional stupor. Finally Felix stood, the crunch of snow under his boots a soft sound compared to his voice. He took a step closer to them. “Every time I try to remember being really, truly happy...I can’t. All those memories seem to have been with you. So maybe I can’t remember those times, but...I know that they were the happiest of my life. I would do anything to get them back. For you. For us.” Another hesitant step.

“Maybe it will never happen. But I know that I can’t run away from you any more. I tried. I tried to forget. And I thought...maybe if you had forgotten me too, you wouldn’t come here. That was a bit selfish of me.” Finally he gave another small smile, just a quirk of his lips. “But you did.”

By now he wasn’t so far away; maybe only a couple of feet. The boots gave him a little more height on them. The feathers of his cloak looked downy and soft. The swell of his chest under his doublet as he breathed the icy air was visible. How could he be the same person Advieh wanted so desperately, and yet not quite? 

But they also had an answer, after all this time. 

“I did.” They reached out, chilly hands finding Felix’s gloved ones. The white leather was soft, and although he started at the touch, he did not shy away from it. 

Maybe there could still be hope, even if it was a different kind of hope.

“Felix, I have to...I need to say some things. This...is all my fault. No, it is,” they hurriedly continued, when he automatically opened his mouth to deny it. It was hard, what they wanted to say, and yet once they started, it was easier than they thought. It felt like a confession of the worst kind of sin, but letting go felt so much better. 

“I was a coward, and I was blind. Worse, I was ignorant, and I stayed that way on purpose. I thought that there was a role I had to play, and so I forced myself to play it. I told myself I was trapped in a cage. But the truth is...the truth is that I locked myself in that cage. I held the key. I fooled myself into thinking I had no other options, because options and choices were frightening. And yet. You were the only one to force yourself inside. To hold open the door. To ask me to leave with you.” They had to stop, to compose themself, because their voice had ground to a whisper under the weight of the emotions. Everything they wished they had said. All the truths they held back before.

But not this time. Not again.

“And I...I didn’t take your hand. When the time came, I was too afraid to leave. I didn’t want to think of a way out, so I told myself we could both be locked in that cage together. That we could be happy enough that way, without words. Without commitment. And it...it almost cost you everything. I’m so sorry, Felix. I’m so, so sorry.” 

A few defiant tears escaped then, and Ad let out a noise of frustration, not wanting the indulgence. This was too important. And yet, there wasn’t much more that could be said. All there could be was a response.

Felix’s hands tightened on theirs, like he was fighting an intense urge to do...something. A million small changes raced across his face. Then, at last, he raised one hand and placed it ever-so-hesitantly on their cheek to brush away the tears. It was the most feather-light touch Ad had ever felt. They let out a trembling breath; let their eyes flutter closed.

“I feel like...I already forgave you. I don’t think there was ever anything to forgive. Not to me, anyway. I felt...insane, for having these feelings for someone I couldn’t remember. But you were always there. I know that memories make us who we are. They shape us into different people...and I know I can’t be the same man you remember, when I don’t have those memories inside me. But looking at you, I...want. I want you. I want to know you. I want to be even better than the person I was before, whoever he was. And he was an idiot if he didn’t tell you how much you meant to him. I won’t--”

“I love you,” Ad said, their mouth moving and saying the words before Felix could even finish his sentence. The sound of that declaration, said aloud, was a surprise even to them. Once their brain caught up, their hands flew to their mouth, an ‘O’ of shock, and clapped over it tightly. “Ah,” they said, in a high and reedy squeak that they were sure they had never made in their whole life, “I didn’t mean...that was so sudden, I….ah...” But their own embarrassment was temporarily forgotten as they looked up to see the absolutely radiant look of elation, surprise, and pleasure on Felix’s face. He took another step, closing most of the little distance left between them, and brought his other hand up to frame their face. 

“This is wild, and crazy, and I can honestly say I’ve lost my mind. But...I think I love you, too.” He laughed, a breathless sound that was an exhale of relief and a celebration, and then Ad’s feet lost contact with the ground as he lifted them up, the feel of his arms around them just the way they remembered. 

Maybe this wasn’t the same as before. But there was no reason they couldn’t start again. And this time, Ad thought, they would do it properly. No more hiding. No more secrets. No more shutting themself off for fear of the world, even as they stared out at it wistfully from inside a palace or a carriage. They remembered the last words the two of them had spoken to one another, in the Hanged Man’s realm that day while Felix’s life hung in the balance. Maybe the assertions he made then had been true all along. Maybe they would remember each other, and love each other, even if they had to start from zero again. Ad was never a big believer of fate...and yet, just this once, it didn’t feel like such a terrible thing, being fated to be with this man.

Felix had already saved them twice; once from a literal sword, and then from a miserable life in the cage they built themself. Yet here he was again, with no memory of them, his hand held out with no hesitation. 

This time they would grab it, they thought, and they would never let go of it again. After all, Advieh didn’t make the same mistake twice, and there were so many new ones waiting to be made...for the both of them. 

Together.

#the arcana next generation #my writing #writing #fanfiction #arcana fanfiction #arcanaverse #Aelix #Advieh and Felix #Advieh Satrinava #Felix Devorak #my oc #other people's ocs #babylain #winter ball #the arcana game #the arcana #otp #can't believe I forgot to post this #haha whoops #next time just poke me w something Lazy #text post #OC x OC

[angryschnauzer]

I want to give you all a cautionary tale about advice. And yes i see the irony in giving advice about giving advice, but its what you do with it is important.

A year ago this weekend i was in London. It had been scheduled to be a pretty amazing weekend; Saturday to see Hiddleston on stage in Betrayal, Sunday meeting Sebastian at MCM. But lets stick to the Saturday part, as believe it or not this isn’t about fandom.

When the tickets for Betrayal had come available in early 2019 i jumped at the chance to see it, but they would only sell the tickets in pairs. So i splashed out and bought 2 tickets, then messaged a woman that had for 3 years given me business advice as at one point she’d mentioned she was also a Hiddleston fan. She jumped at the chance to see the play and paid me for the other ticket.

This is where the story veers away from fandom. This woman ran a local facebook group that helped other small business owners and crafters get together once a month to socialise and share experience and knowledge. Over the 3 years of being part of this group these monthly meetings evolved from an informal social drink and chat, into sitting around a large table, being given exercises and homework, and most of all she would tell us (not advise us) on how we should run our businesses. If we were to ever ask for general advice of the group, if we didn’t take her up on her suggestion she would become angry and resentful that we weren’t taking her advice. For me however the worst part was at one point early on i had let slip that i write erotica. From that point on she would get a kick out of telling complete strangers “Oh this is Simone she makes confetti and writes porn”. Not ‘Erotica’, no, she would say ‘porn’. For a long time i didn’t notice this rather essential difference, but just brushed it off. Anyway, by around April it was becoming clear that she was getting frustrated that we weren’t doing our ‘homework’. And i remind you, this is tasks she decided to set to do things like building a mailing list, or rebranding your website. Things i had no intention of doing (especially the mailing list as i block all junk emails so if i did it i knew other people would too so why put all that energy into it?). April was a pivot point as she decided she was going to charge for membership of the facebook group.... screeching of brakes... this suddenly rang out alarm bells in my head. Firstly the legalities of charging for a membership where the only common communicating medium is facebook - which is inherently free - seemed so off it smelt like a gym kit left in your locker of the summer break, but she was insistent as she felt she needed to be reimbursed for her time after she put all the work into setting assignments... assignments that none of us wanted to do, nor actually benefitted us.  Oh! But if you join you can also have a copy of her e-book about selling on etsy for free! Oh... oh now it all makes sense. She was using us as guinea pigs to write her book.

So this is where i finally realised that honestly her advice was more domineering and most of the parts that i followed actually harmed my business than did it any good. I knew a lot of friends in the group couldn’t afford to pay the yearly membership, or the ‘fee’ to attend the meetings (i forgot to mention that), which in total was £120 a year. Doesn’t sound like a lot but for some crafters and small business owners, we have had times where we are living on a month by month loss whilst we grow our business. 

I stood up methaphorically and said i didn’t feel like it was right to be charged for being friends with someone, and i promptly went off and created a facebook group that was wholly intended on being free and always will be, as a resource for people that need that help and advice without any pushyness. Well she did not like that. She promptly kicked me out of her group (i was going to leave anyway), blocked me, and then unblocked me to say she wanted a refund for the ticket to Betrayal because she wasn’t going to go with me as she didn’t WANT to go with me.

At this point i had in the space of a weekend been forcibly removed from a support network i had come to rely on, ostracized and made to feel like a child, and to be told that she then wanted me to foot the bill for the tickets and make it my responsibility to find a random fan to take with me and would reimburse me. I was a mess. 2019 had started off as a horrible year and had continued to be one, so then 4 months in to be treated like this it was part of a downward spiral of depression. In the following week i broke down, and in the end my husband simply sent the woman her money. I’m thankful that he did that and that we were in a position to have those funds available, but deep down i wish he hadn’t. Because it made me angry. It made that ticket my problem, when in fact it was her problem. Really, i should have waited to refund her until i’d found another buyer, but i suppose it was a clean break and i could at at that point just think about whether i was even going to find someone else to go or just enjoy the empty seat myself.

In the end i offered the ticket to a couple of friends, and i was lucky enough that  one was able to travel down to London to meet me and see it with me, plus i got to meet a long time tumblr friend for the first time in person.

But now, even a year on, this still upsets me. The way this woman tried to take over my work life and acted like a combination of a domineering teacher and a spoilt teenager. So if you have made it this far thank you, i know its a rant and i’m not honestly expecting anyone to read it as i know its a whole bunch of word vomit, but getting it out has been cathartic for me and is helping me heal from the experience. Basically what i want to say is; take advice as just that, advice. You don’t have to follow it, if you don’t feel its right for you then take your own route. 

And i won’t even get started on the other woman that tried to fucking run my business into the ground last september because that’s a whole other story for another time.

#personal #rant

[jasperlion]

[ I’ve had some THOUGHTS about the forging bonds event (beyond the fact that I’m still salty CYL3 didn’t get their own in favor of a 3h banner), and I could go deep into it and how it feels like Edelgard’s in particular feels empty for everyone involved (in a sense, like intsys is actively avoiding anyone agreeing with her), but I’ll try to be brief instead.

It feels like Lissa’s own trauma and thoughts with regards of being brandless compared to her siblings was extremely watered down for this FB. She literally cried when Owain’s brand surfaced out of sheer relief, I’m pretty sure her issues with it were far beyond ‘I didn’t feel like I fit in’ — not to mention the fact that she talks so loosely about how it gives them the power to ‘save lives’ while neglecting to mention, when she says it depends on the person, that her very own father used his bloodline, brand and ideals to literally invade the neighboring country and tried to raze it to the ground. If they picked Lissa of all characters to front this, why did they make her have the most milquetoast of takes in an attempt to ‘challenge Edelgard’s views’ (which... is done enough in 3h itself, I felt it was unnecessary to do it here instead of finding different opinions that agree at some points but disagree with others). What’s more, she has nothing to say about the unfairness of the system, or the unfairness of brand vs no brand and who is meant to rule. It was just... skipped over, just like that.

Which brings me to the meat of my issue with it: Alm and Celica’s namedrops. I’m gonna focus on these specifically because this is an Alm blog and that’s what I talk about here.

I really wish they’d have shown up instead of being mentioned offhand, especially considering that they’d have instead agreed with Edelgard and her points? I can’t stress enough that this FB felt like they were trying really hard to not have anyone agree with Edelgard at all, and while they can get away with it with Lissa, they really couldn’t have with Celica and Alm. Miss and Mr ‘The Gods Should Not Have A Say In Our Lives, They’ve Gone Mad, So We KILLED THEM.’ It was so strange to have them namedropped only to say ‘they agreed with your point Lissa’ and ‘they don’t resent the gods for their burden’, which felt... really strange.

-> Alm and Celica would agree the system is unjust, especially Alm, considering how much it was used against him when he was thought a commoner, and how those very same people kissed his ass when it turned out he was a noble and acted like it was no longer an issue — he was the same person, and yet there’s this 180 that will never happen to anyone else because they didn’t win the birth lottery. -> They’d DEFINITELY agree that a God should have no say in the affairs of man. That was literally the whole of Act 5, it was Rudolf’s ideas from before they were even born, and it is that very conclusion that drove them to finish Duma once and for all — a conclusion Mila agreed with in her dying breaths (as did Duma). -> While likely not resentful for the power granted to them by the blood in their veins, the fact that their very destiny was TO ATTACK AND DETHRONE GOD probably had something to do with it. It wasn’t even really something planned by Duma and Mila to begin with anyway, it was a prophecy Sage Halcyon foretold. Yes, it allowed them to save Valentia. No, it’s not what everyone else was saddled with, and such responsibility falling to one person alone instead of being what the people want to do themselves and are able to do it with their power combined is probably not a good thing (and if they fail? What if the people ‘destined’ to do it fail?).

What they’d not agree with is the whole ‘start a war to change the future’ thing, as Alm sees war as something that should only be fought if extremely necessary and out of retaliation, and Celica would prefer to find alternative methods at all costs to avoid the lives it will ruin. ... However, considering it was what Rudolf did to shake Valentia and get people to stand up, it’s not an idea and strategy they haven’t seen before. And, well, it worked. Not sure they’d have an option to offer to her that would avoid the cost of war, it would simply be something they would not see eye to eye on with Edelgard.

I could go on, but I’ll stop myself here.

Anyways, it felt really weird to just namedrop them just like that and not do anything with it, not to mention imply they agree with the noble system and the gods ruling over the people when it’s literally the opposite of SoV’s story.. And it’s not just them, either. There was a lot of missed opportunity with *GESTURES TO ALL OF JUGDRAL*, whom I feel would be able to convey even more nuance depending on who they picked about Edelgard’s ideals and the merits and issues within them. Like, really, of all people they shouldn’t have gone with Lissa, and instead picked someone from Jugdral (like Leif?)

#[ feh ] #[ Long post ] #[ wulf speaks ] #spoilers: i failed to be brief