#if you find this unconvincing i do not have much in common with you nor do i want to be associated with you

[dostoyevsky-official]

mask off 💀

it turns out i'm a little soft hippy centrist shitlib after all: i don't like it when civilians get killed. i am beholden to the idea that life is sacred, holy, and inviolable, that civilians are innocent no matter how much you do not like them. i am against cruelty—i have always been against it— and i believe that informs my understanding of the past and present: i am against the apartheid state and the blockade, i am against the ongoing carpet bombing of gaza. i will not cheer with you when dead bodies get dragged and spat on in the street, i do not think it is a moment of liberation when children get kidnapped and beaten. because i am against cruelty i do not celebrate shooting up 250 stupid concert goers. because of the principles i hold i don't like it when israel murders children, as it has done so in the last 48 hours, with the world's support. i do not support a government that kills over 200 innocents with impunity in retaliation. i do not understand what massacres justify which other massacres. it is barbaric to deny clean water and basic medicine to children; it is barbaric to shoot them, it is not a revolution. i don't like the kahanists and their state that led to this and i don't like hamas. i will not support the state of israel—i never have—and the impending invasion of gaza, instigated by two groups of fascist religious fundamentalists. i think cheering any part of this tragedy atrocious. but now i've gone and pulled a both-sides!

i want you to look at what's happening as a real act and not a media event where you pick the side that's convenient for your team. set aside the outrage, look at the people dying, and think of each life, that holds so much and is a miracle in itself. try to understand the immense tragedy of what it means for that to be cut short. do you not value life? does your value of life inform your politics? do you not support palestinians because you value life?

i’ve consistently posted about how opposed i am to violence targeting bystanders, the terror and bloodshed it achieves and nothing else. the history of the twentieth century, still unfolding around us, tells me that much. if you are celebrating, you are either an idiot, consumed by online politics, or you have lost some sense of humanity; look around—look carefully—and try to preserve it instead

#you want to help? donate money to that gazan tourniquet donation drive #if you think this is a mask off moment you are new here #in the end #i suppose i'm being very wishy-washy in consistently not wanting innocent people to die #if you find this unconvincing i do not have much in common with you nor do i want to be associated with you #feel more than free to unfollow or block or so on #i don't need explanations for what's going on. i understand it very well and i agree that chickens are coming home to roost

[yuurei20]

Riddle Info Compilation part 17: Riddle and Floyd(pt2)

In Book 5 Riddle visits Jade’s club presentation when Floyd is already there and scolds him for neglecting his duties “because of a little mood swing.”

Riddle orders Jade to keep is brother in line, deciding that he doesn’t care what Jade’s club presentation is about as long as they’re not doing anything disruptive.

In Floyd’s dorm vignette he forces a trade of blue ink that Riddle is looking to buy for himself in exchange for one of Riddle’s notebooks, despite not actually wanting the notebook at all (he immediately gives it to Jamil).

Floyd shamelessly teases Riddle about his height during Phantom Bride and Riddle repeatedly discourages people from trying make sense of Floyd’s decisions during Beanfest.

When Floyd accepts an invitation to join their team Riddle responds, “I’m getting a headache.”

Riddle expresses disapproval of Floyd receiving all the gear for the game only reluctantly admitting that Floyd made “a significant contribution” to the team’s progress, and has earned it. Floyd puts his arm on Riddle’s shoulder and says that he will scare off any monsters that try to attack him.

(This is not quite what happens: The group gets surrounded by a team of monsters and Riddle ends up getting left behind. Silver insists on turning back to save him but Floyd refuses, saying that they are better off getting some distance and regrouping, and to let Riddle go.)

Vil refers to both of them as “live wires” during Beanfest—which Riddle disapproves of extremely—and during Phantom Bride Floyd tells Riddle, “Seein’ all that got me in the mood to throw down. C’mon, punch me a little.”

Riddle says that it is neither the time nor the place.

Floyd seems well aware of Riddle’s strength, saying during Vargas Camp that the Vargas Monster must be “mighty strong” to be capable of kidnapping Riddle.

Despite their near-constant bickering, however, Floyd and Riddle are entirely capable of having normal conversations: Floyd describes “land boot camps” for mermaids to Riddle and Riddle responds with, “I approve,” expressing an interest in learning about land life through an academic lens.

When Riddle calls Floyd out on pretending to be a team player for a shot at Lilia, Floyd points out that they will have a much bigger problem if Lilia ever decides to camp out in the coliseum. Riddle concedes that Floyd has a point.

The two also find common ground during Halloween when Riddle insists upon taking his card soldiers back from the mirror without hesitation and Floyd joins him, only for both of them to be rejected for failing to read the fine print on Malleus’ invitation. (Riddle: “They should write it bigger if it’s so important!”)

Riddle expresses surprise at a “taciturn” Floyd in a vignette, saying that Floyd is “too moody by half.”Jade acknowledges that it is probably nicer for Riddle when Floyd is out of sorts, “…or, do you actually miss it?”

Riddle insists, “certainly not. I rather like not being under constant attack, I’ll have you know.”

They might be equally incapable of admitting to getting gifts for one another: Riddle gets Floyd a personalized shoehorn but says “it was just an afterthought after Jade’s” (Floyd seems unconvinced), and Floyd gets Riddle a bookband, about which he says, “I don’t need it anyway.”

#twstriddle #twstfacts #Riddle Rosehearts #riddlefacts #twisted wonderland

[funkymbtifiction]

Hi Charity! Is it common for non-Feelers (I don't think it's really important if the person in question has low Fi or Fe but maybe I am wrong here) to be uncomfortable with negative emotions of other people (and self)?

I feel like I get very frustrated when people in public act like "too much" or are being too loud or, worst of all, try to get an emotional response out of me. I really hate giving emotional responses in general but it comes out at least genuinely when it's people for whom I already care deeply about, but when some not close friends or acquaintances try to "play on my heartstrings", the only thing that comes out of me is annoyance and resentment. Honestly, I kind of hate that telling them truthfully that I don't care or that they are burdening me is deemed inappropriate, so I have to fake compassion and just try to cut contact with them. I also can't stand when people try to get me to "open up" or be more emotional. I know it's not normal and that I am not supposed to get angry and frustrated when someone asks me how I feel but I just can't help but feel this way. I feel very grateful that my friends understand that even if I am somewhat closed off emotionally, it doesn't mean that I don't trust them or that I don't care about them,

I have trouble expressing my emotions (even if I am happy, it looks somewhat "unconvincing" to other people), and I honestly don't like to "dive" into my emotions either, so when someone tries to forcefully get me to think about them, I have a pretty negative reaction that I can't control, so I usually try to get away until I cool off. Recently my friend told me that guarding my heart that hard won't actually help me avoid feeling pain, and I guess she has a point. But I don't even know how to feel comfortable with my emotions anymore nor there really is a reason to chose them over not feeling them? I mean, I don't get that sad or that distressed compared to people around me (some are even amazed at this ability and wish that they were "just like me"), and I seem to always "keep myself together", but I think that my positive emotions also aren't as bright and colorful as emotions of other people around me. Sometimes I even think that it would be nice to be allowed to be emotionally negative right in someone's face - like crying in a presence of someone else or allowing myself to be comforted  but at the same time this kind of thought terrifies me and makes me uncomfortable. I think from "not feeling negative emotions" I became somewhat untouchable but I also don't think that I can fully connect with someone in emotional level because in order to connect both parties should entrust their raw emotions in one another and I can't do that yet.

Is it like... a common thinker struggle? Sorry that I wrote so much. I hope you get well soon and have a fast recovery! :)

Thanks for your well wishes. I am so "over" this cold. So sick of it. Ha, ha. It took me three hours this morning to write/edit a thousand words and that pisses me off.

Anyway... what you said is pretty normal for a thinking type. They are somewhat uncomfortable with other people's emotions and tend to find emotional 'displays' to be too 'big' or 'intense' (particularly TPs). My ISTP friend says she knows what she's feeling and can deal with it on her own, she doesn't want to share it with other people or have them try to coax her into opening up if she doesn't want to. She also will 'fake' sympathy to calm other people down and/or get through an emotional event (she is not sharing their outrage or whatever, but will go along with it to make them feel more at ease around her). But things just do not affect her on an intense of a level as they appear to impact other people.

As you get older, your will become more in touch with your emotions -- if that is something you choose to focus on developing. Learning to be more open with people and to share when you feel ready can help facilitate emotional growth between you and another person, but you shouldn't share more than you feel good about sharing, and you shouldn't compare yourself negatively with people who more easily open up and talk about their feelings. You would be surprised how many people don't register their emotions as being 'bright' or that intense; they seem to be that way for feeling dominants more than any other type.

There may or may not come a time when you feel okay crying in front of someone else -- and it's okay if that happens and okay if it doesn't. You are fine just the way you are. :)

#question #istp #intp #istj #entp #estp #estj #mbti

[brooklynislandgirl]

♥   When they have a crush on someone, how do they let them know?

♥ Do they have at least one bonding activity they devote to doing with their partner exclusively?

♥ Have they had dreams about their partner/the person they are courting? [specifying Peter / Spider-Man]

♥ Tell us about a sacrifice they made for their significant other. [specifying Eddie / Venom]

The Courtship of a Nurse Shark || Accepting

“Yeah...how ‘bout...no, and why would you? Wha’ is even da point?” Beth replies quickly, but so thin, so quiet as to almost not be heard. She angles her chin down and pushes the chili cheese fry around on her plate with the same fork she had just about speared it with before the question was asked. Some people say that she doesn’t blink. Or if she does, it’s some half-lidded attempt that sees her rolling her eyes upward. Maybe they are right. Maybe its because she lacks the nictitating membrane to do so properly. But she does so now, with her face angled out of the way, and it is a long one. She doesn’t need to cleanse dust from the green depths, nor does she need to moisten them any more than they already are. It’s better this, though, than heaving the sigh that seems stuck in her throat. “All it evah does is bring hurt dat broke da heart, da kine can’t be put back togeddah. If ya lucky, it’s a chemical imbalance in ya brain an’ it eventually wear off. S’why dey call it a crush, right? If ya so lonely, an’ ya need love an’ companionship, ya much beddah off gettin’ yaself a pet.” ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ It was a mistake. Coulson was known to make a few, he can’t be human without them. She and Jemma get on like a house on fire, at least without the screaming. They’re much too civilised, according to Simmons. It’s because she doesn’t want to end up in a cell, Beth would say, if she said anything at all. He says it takes time to settle in, like finding the right space for the right piece, and with that he fits two seemingly incompatible pieces together on the puzzle they’re doing. She looks at him, then at the box, brows knitted. The lid doesn’t have a complete image on it, and she doesn’t know how he makes it look so easy. She asks how he knows. He gives her that smile of his, infinitely patient. She doesn’t come out of what amounts to her room unless it’s the dead of night. She takes a thermos of coffee and three energy bars from the kitchen area. And Coulson nearly scares her half to death by sitting on her bed when she returns. He tells her to walk with him, it’s a little too cramped and too inappropriate. They end up sitting in Lola in companionable silence. Eventually, he tells her stories. ~*~ Fitz sides with his partner. Everyone knows they are lock step. Skye has Ward. Coulson has May. In the cockpit, the woman frowns. “She’s taken to staying in her cabin. Only way I’m sure she’s come out is we’re an extra person short on coffee, and I think there was three missing energy bars. Are you sure this was the right decision?” “She left three books outside my door.” May looks unconvinced that that means anything. In return, Beth finds three CDs outside hers when she is sure everyone else is asleep and goes to refill her thermos. How does he know, she likes classical music, and in particular that she loves cello most of all? There’s no file with that in it. No interview. She wonders if maybe Uncle is a little magick, himself.

~*~ A few weeks later, he finds her sitting in Lola, again. Soft cloth in hand. She’s wiping down the dash in slow, purposeful circles. She doesn’t greet him but she doesn’t flinch, when he pops the hood. She doesn’t also seem to realise he’s giving her a blind to hide behind. “You know fantasy isn’t really my thing,” he says. “But the common theme I noticed was a sense of not fitting in. Do you want to talk about that? Or are you saying you feel like you’re being sacrificed to Lloth?” For the first time in a while, he hears a particular sound. It’s soft, barely audible, but it’s a giggle. The giggle becomes a hushed sort of laugh and eventually she makes her way out of the car and to his side. One spindly arm wraps around his waist, her cheek presses into his arm. Her other small hand hovers over the pristine engine. A beat goes by. Another.

“She say you’re a good man. Dat I goddah keep my promise. An’ dat ya pronunciation of Menzoberranzan is atrocious.” ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Summer in New York is something of a different beast. It isn’t the heavy wet-heat of the southern states, where even a single step outside coats you like a blanket pulled out from the dryer while still soaking, and making it hard to breathe. Even if it is humid. It isn’t the heat of the desert, bone dry and similar to a kiln, sucking out any sort of moisture and making everything into weird kinds of jerky. Even if it is hot. Heat settles like breath between buildings in the city. Gets trapped there. Reflects from the side walk and the asphalt, bounces between the high rises. That’s not to mention the certain pervasive smell of the garbage bags stewing in a morass on the walks waiting to be picked up. Maybe Beth is lucky then, to live in Brooklyn, and a particularly well kept, upscale neighbourhood made for a different sort of life. It’s hot but she can appreciate it. She leaves a window open and a fan blowing softly and it’s almost enough to pretend she’s home. She can hear the water calling to her. A lullaby to nudge her into the little sleep she gets by on. And perhaps the dreams that flitter at the edge of her mind take on something of a sultry nature. Her heart races as they swing over the city, only her infinite control over her own body controlling the urge to expel the contents of her stomach. Not that she thinks he will drop her. Not that she imagines falling at all, but Beth is a creature of the earth and the ocean, not one meant to fly. Eventually the sensation flickers, becomes a thick hammock of webbing, swaying gently in the breeze. She should find this as unnerving, but she knows that Spider is a totem of cunning, even if allied with with C’et. Her boons and bans seem to serve Ku’uku’u well, even if he doesn’t feel Her...well would it be hands? Beth doesn’t know, but he seems in no danger from Her. What is dangerous is the way his hand trails up and down along the curve of her side, from the edge of her bikini top to the top of her skirt, though never straying impolitely beyond each physical border. Makes a light layer of goosebumps come alive and makes her fingers tighten at his hip. He’s whispering things in her ear and while her dream-self seems to be enjoying it, the rest of her mind doesn’t record the actual words. Languidly she stretches. Becomes a canvas for his touch. The mask slips up and allows his lips to forge new pathways. Her body reacts to her dreaming one’s stimuli and she writhes in the cool sheets beneath her. Warmth paints her skin in shades of blush. Limbs curl and shift. Her knees come together as do her thighs, trapping some of the thin cotton of her nightgown. Her breath is shallow, quick. Becomes a gasp.  A name. “Pika.”

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

“Please...” “You are in control of this. You can cooperate, and we will let him be.” Through the glass, she can see Eddie laying on the floor, coated in sweat and dried blood almost to the point of anonymity. She doesn’t have to hear him to see the rictus of his face, the muscles pulled taut, lips cracked and desperate for moisture. All of him vibrating at a frequency she cannot calculate, that he is screaming enough for the both of them. “Stop. Stop, please.” “Come along to the lab then.” Whatever sound was being broadcast seems to die out as she turns away, in time to see Eddie curling up into a fetal position. She couldn’t say what hurts more; watching Them be tortured, or seeing even a glimpse of the aftermath. Eddie. Her Eddie. So strong, so powerful but still gentle. Stil out to serve truth rather than violence. “In order to do what you ask... you’ll have to remove this collar.” “And how long do you think the specimen will live if we are forced to kill the host?” Long enough, she hopes. Long enough.  “You needn’t have to threaten me,” she says with very brittle English. “You want me to engineer a more perfect host. You want me to...recreate...what They are. And how do you expect me to do so, if you cut off the very ability you require? If the price is keeping them both alive, and unharmed, then I will do it.” She only hopes that they forgive her. ~*~ Every attempt she has made comes to nothing. She can duplicate Eddie’s genetic code down to the smallest quirk of dna. She doesn’t recognise the specific Klyntar material she has on hand, she can’t even be sure it is Beloved’s, and she is as intimately familiar with it as she can be. She can reproduce the feel of His substance. It is certainly organic. It should have life, but it doesn’t. And worse, it breaks down within hours. Every failure is met with reprisal, Eddie’s to bear, and Beloved’s. Not hers. Never hers. But not all of it is fruitless. There’s a degree of control that they don’t realise she has. She alters herself to be immune. The one time they let her see Them again, it’s through glass. That is all it takes. They don’t realise touch is a luxury she gives herself, but if desperate enough... And Beth is desperate.  She is a shepherd of Life. Her duty is to protect it, guide it. She’d made an oath to do no harm. Not just to a medical board, either. She’d promised him. And now, she’s breaking it. ~*~ The first people who end up on the floor look like something out of a horror film; hemorrhagic fever is potentially life-threatening, which is why Dengue, Ebola, Lassa are all so feared. Tiny blood vessels break. They cause the body to be unable to form clots. The fever is a nice touch, but is meaningless once the organs begin to break down, the liver...the kidneys...eventually the heart. And it’s in the air vents. It’s in the hallways. Like sand, it’s everywhere. She grieves for the loss of life, the innocent ones. The ones who like them are here only because they are different. This does not fall on Beth’s shoulders, but rather the Admiral’s. She takes the required key cards and makes her way down the hall. Her bare feet leave sticky red prints in their wake. And soon, the alarms die with a simple wave of her hand. They don’t like that much noise, her Beloved and Eddie. And soon, They will be free.  She’s made sure of it.

#Mahalo!Matt <333 #Lost in Translation|N S F W #Blood TW #Disease TW #A Guy-A Girl-and Some Goo|Eddie-Beth-Beloved #Webs and Fins|Spidey and Beth #Every Girl Needs a Hero|Phil and Beth #Various Marvel Verses #TERMINALLY Long Post ~ Save yourself and don't bitch at me.

[tumbledfreckles]

Ooohh! What about Jily/Marauders drunken shenanigans? *wiggles eyebrows mischievously* 😏😏😏😝

Max I don't even know how long ago you sent me this, I know it's been too long. But I was waiting for inspiration, and this isn't quite drunken, but it is a party and they've had some drinks so I'm hoping it's close enough, because I love it and it rounds out my three drabbles this weekend and uses my trope of the moment - names. I hope you enjoy it.

“He’s just so oblivious.”

“I know.”

“He’s infuriating.”

“I know.”

“It’s like he doesn’t even have a fucking clue.”

“Lily, I know.”

Lily cast a sidelong glance at Sirius, who sat next to her on the windowsill, on the edge of one of the wildest parties that the Gryffindor Common Room had seen in her seven years there. To say they’d gone nuts after winning the House Cup was an understatement of epic proportions.

“Sorry,” she huffed with a sigh. “I know you’ve heard this before.”

“From both sides,” SIrius shook his head darkly. “You two are driving me crazy.”

“It’s him!” Lily protested. “You say he feels the same, but why won’t he do anything about it?”

“After you turned him down all those times?” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you do something about it?”

“After I turned him down all those times?” She met his pointed gaze with one of her own.

“Fair enough.” Sirius thought for a second. His face lit with a grin. “Wait, I know.”

Lily felt afraid.

Very, very afraid.

“I feel like I shouldn’t ask.”

Sirius tutted, “Now, now, don’t act like you're not desperate for my mate there.”

They both turned toward the bloke in question, clear across the common room, who was currently high fiving Remus as they won their third game of beer pong against the Prewett twins. His smile lit up his face, his eyes danced and there was just the slightest flash of toned abdominals as he ran his hand through his hair, pushing the silky locks out of his face. He caught Lily’s eye across the room and winked.

Her head ducked, cheeks flushing even as heat pooled in areas much lower down.

“Evans?” Sirius was watching her, daring her to contradict him. “Still waiting.”

Lily slumped gloomily back against the window. “Yeah, alright, fine, have at it.”

When Sirius was finished with his idea, Lily had an eyebrow of her own to raise.

“You think that will work?”

He shook his head at her uncertainty. “He’ll lose his shit.”

“He probably won’t even notice.”

“Oh, he’ll notice. I give him three minutes before he pounces.”

Lily was unconvinced. “It’ll take at least five.”

“Place a wager?”

“What are your terms?”

“You get Marlene to go on a date with me.”

Lily scoffed openly, “Why do you think I can get her to do that?”

“Because she’s your best friend.” Sirius said it like it was obvious.

“Ask her yourself.”

“Is that your terms?”

Lily crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine. Sure. Those are my terms. If it works, I’ll get her to go out with you. If it doesn’t, you have to ask Marlene out. Seriously.” She pointed a finger, stabbing his chest as his mouth opened. “Don’t say it.”

“Fine,” Sirius rubbed his sternum. “Ruin all my fun. Do we have an agreement?”

She took his outstretched hand, “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Likewise. Now, off you go.”

She was subtle about it. At least, she hoped she was. Lily moved slowly across the room towards the beer pong table. She took her time. Chatted to various fellow students and friends. Got herself a new drink, smirking to herself as she allowed Peter to spike her butterbeer. Liquid courage and all that.

“Who’s winning?” she asked as she sidled up to Mary, along the edge of the table.

“Our boys,” Mary inclined her head toward Remus and James.

Our boys. She liked the sound of that. Mary only meant it as in their fellow Gryffindors, compared to the Hufflepuffs of Gideon and Fabian, but Lily liked it all the same.

“Insulted you even have to ask, Evans,” James chidded her, as he watched Remus scull a full cup of butterbeer.

“Apologies, James, I should have known,” Lily felt her breath catch in her throat, making her words quiet.

He heard them anyway.

James barely seemed to register that the ball he’d just thrown had bounced off the rim of the cup he’d aimed for. He definitely didn’t notice the Prewetts crowing across the table as Gideon lined up his next shot. Nor did he spare Remus a glance as his friend sighed and shot him a pained look.

“What did you just say?” James spun to face Lily, heedless to the game, the people around them.

“I said I was sorry for doubting you,” Lily fought hard to keep the smile off her face.

“That wasn’t what you said.” He took the beer that Remus forced into his hand, Fabian’s turn having been a success. It stayed in his hand as he took several steps toward her.

“Well, no, not word for word,” Lily shifted her weight back, her heart rate increasing as she saw the flash in his eyes, the smirk on his face.

“James, it’s your -” Remus was cut off as James thrust the cup back at him.

“Get Peter.”

“We’ll lose, we’re on a streak, you can’t -”

“I don’t care. Get Peter,” James didn’t even look to see how his friend reacted, his eyes fixed on hers.

Lily swallowed, trying to force her heart back into her chest as she took more steps back, away from Mary, away from the table, away from the throng of beer pong enthusiasts.

“Not like you to give up a game so easily,” she tried to jest, but the words came out soft, too soft.

James’ lips twitched, just slightly, just enough to relax her shoulders. “Depends on the reason.”

“What was the reason?”

“Better game started.”

Lily stopped in her retreat, not moving even as his toes lined up with hers. Her head tilted to the side as she looked up at him. “This a game, is it?”

James shook his head, “Not really. Not to me.”

“Neither,” she was reduced to a whisper as his hand curved around her jaw, fingers spanning her neck, thumb brushing across her cheek.

“Say it again,” he whispered, forehead almost on hers.

“I’m sorry for-”

“Not that,” he cut her off harshly, his other hand squeezing at her hip where she hadn’t even realised he held her. “The part where you said my name.”

Lily looked at him, at the hazel that danced with gold, at the earnestness, the longing in his expression, mixed with hope and light and lust. She looked at him and realised everything else had faded away.

“James.”

She didn’t wait for him to respond, pushing straight up into his arms, threading her hands into the soft silky hair she’d admired to bring him down to her. He needed no such encouragement, meeting her exhale on his inhale, taking the breath from her lungs their mouths sealed, a perfect fit. It was hot and damp, and her skin tingled everywhere it met with his. James sighed into her mouth, his tongue tracing the edge of her inner lip before finding hers to play with.

“Shit,” she whispered, when they finally pulled apart, though neither moved very far.

“That bad, huh?” James leant back toward her. “I can try again.”

“No,” Lily shook her head, pressing another three kisses at least to his lips before she could pull away again. “No, not you.”

“Then what?” James’ hand had found it’s way under her top, and began traced to skin along the edge of her trousers, raising goosebumps along it’s path.

It made it difficult to focus, to say the least. She let her fingers trail down his neck to squeeze the defined muscles of his shoulder, was gratified by the groan that escaped him, that she wasn’t the only one feeling so much right then. It made it easier to think.

“I’ve got to figure out how to get Marlene to go on a date with Sirius, that’s all.” Lily looked up at James, smiling invitingly. “How do you feel about double dating?”

#jily #jily fic #jily drabble #hogwarts jily #marauders #canon jily #things i do while chem is at the beta's #i'm going to need more prompts now #theres only one left #freckles writes #jily fanfiction #jily fanfic

[frostsinth]

Burdened by the Stars - Pt. 4

Part 1 | 2 | 3 - MasterList

Picking up a bit of motivation for this story again. Yay! And sorry, the boys can’t seem to get it into their heads that this one is not their story. I’ll try to keep their visitation to a minimum.

But regardless, here’s more of the sass and himbo duo! If you like my work, consider supporting me by buying me a coffee from the link in my MasterList above. I have lots of other inane ramblings there too if you are interested. DM me for commissions, shoot me asks with thoughts/comments!

All the best, and Enjoy!

After a brief assessment away from the dizzying presence of the half-orc, I realized there was very little chance of the Royal quarters actually having what I needed. Nikostratus was the tallest and broadest in the family, and even he did not come very close to matching Erramun in height. Besides, I couldn’t imagine my neat and tidy older brother wouldn’t notice his clothing going missing. But the laundering rooms were near the bottom level of the castle, closer to the city than the towers. There was no telling if once I arrived I would be able to find some appropriate clothing with any ease, considering that laundry from every part of the castle was often washed in mixed tubs. There was also no way for me to know whose clothes would be on rotation for wash today, nor in what state, batch, or bin they might be in if I did find them. Which made a visit to the laundering rooms, while more anonymous and definitely more diverse, absolutely impractical for my devices. However, the guards quarters were not quite so far; only a few levels down and adjacent to the training cliffs. There, I knew, I would be most likely to find the belongings of perhaps the one resident in the entire goblin castle that might have a few items close enough to Erramun’s size.

It was an easy enough trip, though I tried to make it as hastily as possible. No guarantees of what that fool would get up to if I left him to his own devices for too long. I also wasn’t entirely sure he had been completely honest when he had said he could manage the bath. Considering his wooziness since I had met him in the forest, I worried he might just pass out in the water and drown. Not that my being there would be much help, I reasoned. I certainly wasn’t strong enough to haul a half-drowned half orc from the water should he require it. I was also more than a little perturbed with the recollection of the taut green skin running over his shoulders and muscular back. My mind supplied ample fodder for what might be waiting a little further down than my eye had succeeded in wandering during our prior parting. And the thoughts brought a hot flush to my cheeks. I quickly forced myself to focus on the task at hand.

Thankfully, the barracks were also mostly quiet. The majority of the guard would be on their daily patrols, or perhaps in the dining commons catching a meal beforehand. Any left here would be from night shift, so would most likely be resting in their bunks. I had been here often enough, and knew the layout by heart (as I knew most of the castle). I headed towards the largest of the chambers, near the back, where the General kept his private quarters. Retired General, he would say, should you care to ask him. Though considering he still managed to keep busy enough maintaining the guards and patrols, perhaps that was not the optimal word. His title was more ceremonial now than necessity, as he had the guard running like a perfectly well oiled machine, and more often than not you could find him with a drink in hand, laughing alongside the nobles in the sitting rooms of the castle. Still, I was glad General Damjan had maintained some personal quarters in the castle rather than permanently retiring outside its walls. It meant I might actually have a chance of finding a set of clothes that would fit my behemoth charge. I was also fortunate that although Damjan kept his private quarters locked, I knew exactly where the old soldier kept his key. 

Damjan was, in a sense, like a grandfather to me. He had been a major part of Grier’s life after his father’s passing, and when Nikostratus had moved to the castle he had taken my brother under his wing as well. So it fell to reason that he had me spoiled rotten by the time I was 11; teaching me all the best goblinese curses, and a few fighting moves that were certainly not proper for a Princess to know. The old half-goblin was also a sound source for advice, and had an ample stock of wisdom to share with anyone willing to listen. Therefore, I had been to visit him in his office and chambers more than a few dozen times over the years. Which meant I knew his rooms nearly as well as mine and Niko’s. Allowing me to steal in and out with as simple a shirt and pair of trousers as I could find and relock his door all within a matter of minutes. I was assuaged of the little stab of guilt I felt by the fact that if Damjan had been around to ask, he certainly would have been more than indulgent of my request. I simply just didn’t have the time right now to look for the old General to tell him I had another half-orc stashed upstairs in my private chambers. I made a silent promise to the universe that I would make him a plate of his favorite pastries to make up for it.

It had barely been half an hour since I had left Erramun when I skittered down an upper hallway back towards the towers. Still, despite having managed to avoid the entirety of the current inhabitants of the castle and with prize in hand, I was anxious to be back. I was so distracted by the thought of what the half orc would be doing alone in my bed chambers that I moved automatically and inattentively. Causing me to almost run head first into a goblin as we both rounded the same corner from opposite directions.

“Ah, little bird!” He exclaimed delightedly as we recovered ourselves.

I nearly squeaked in surprise, quickly hiding the bundle of clothes behind my back as Grier fixed me with his classic toothy smile. The goblin King seemed un-bothered by our near collision, though I had to work quickly to throw a cover over my guilty expression. I saw his scarlet eyes flick over me curiously at my movement, and one slender brow cocked up. I knew I would have to work fast to evade suspicion and make my escape. My brother-in-law was perpetually curious, and keenly observant. Prolonging our interaction would only heighten the chances that I would have to build a lie I wasn’t prepared to forge.

“Sorry, Grier, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” I told him quickly, starting to slide around his side. Careful to face him as I did with my back and hands squarely out of his line of sight. “But I’m sure you’re very busy, so I won’t keep you!”

He spun slowly on heel to match my movement. “No trouble at all, little bird,” He replied, and I saw the suspicion already growing quickly on his face as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, “Nikostratus has been looking for you, you know.”

“Oh, he’s always looking for me,” I tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, shrugging my shoulders, “Mostly because the majority of that time he spends lost in the halls. Or searching a place he already checked having turned himself around and gone back on his own feet.”

Grier laughed at that, placing his hands on his hips. “Yes, the man is completely hopeless I fear.” He followed me a step down the hall as I started to retreat backwards. “But none-the-less… you seem to be making a particular point of avoiding him this time around.”

“I am just busy,” I started to assure him, “I-”

“Morgana, you know you have been avoiding us both since you first got here nearly a week ago.” He interrupted, his voice becoming uncharacteristically serious. “I am not sure what we did… or what you’re hiding… but please keep in mind you have the same air of secrecy about you as when you rescued that bear cub from the forest when you were 15.” He shifted his hands to cross his arms over his chest. His thin lips twitching in amusement. “It was halfway through the kitchen pantry before you finally came clean… I do hope you’ve learned your lesson since then?”

I gave a nervous, forced laugh. “I haven’t smuggled in any wild animals, I promise.” Which was technically true.

He gave an unconvinced ‘hmmm’ at that. “But you do know you can talk to us, yes?” He asked quickly, even as I opened my mouth to continue, “About anything that may be bothering you.” His head tilted slightly to one side. “... Nikostratus is worried about you.”

I felt a little tongue of anger flare up in me at that. “I’m not a child anymore.” I scoffed, my brow furrowing slightly. “I don’t need nor want my brother hovering over me like some agitated mother hen!”

Grier considered that as well, and I started to take a few steps backwards down the hall. Eager to make my escape. Shaking my head in frustration and thinking that was the end of it. My brother-in-law was not usually the confrontational sort with me. He was good at gathering information, at poking holes in my defenses; but I tended to think he preferred to be my confidant rather than my guardian. We had developed a rather close relationship since he had married my brother, mostly revolving around how best to manage my tight lipped, straight backed sibling. It had been a rocky start for the two of them, and I had exclusive inside knowledge of how best to break through Niko’s stony exterior. In later years, he had more often than not come to my defense when my brothers had sought to disperse punishments, or withhold liberties. He understood my wild spirit better than either of them, and that it caused my siblings and I to butt heads frequently. Not to say he wasn’t carefully responsible around me. He had taken me as his ward as much as Niko had back our mother had passed when I was born. But he usually left any actual scolding to my brothers.

Which was why I nearly stumbled in surprise when he persisted in the face of my irritation. Rather than letting it pass as he usually would.

“Well, that may be the case, little bird,” He said, even as I continued to inch away from him, “But regardless, you know your brother will always worry about you. And-” He continued before I could interject “- Even if you are upset with him, that is no reason to avoid your commitments. Most prominent being the promise you made to your nieces and nephews.”

That made me falter, and my retreat stilled. “... I didn’t mean-”

“You promised you would go with them to the gardens.” He pressed, not allowing me breath for excuses. The goblin raised one bejeweled hand, silencing any protests I might have had. “I understand if you would like your space from myself and Nikostratus, and I will speak to him about allowing you some. However, I would ask that you do not allow your current disdain to rub off on the children, as they have done nothing to raise your ire, and do not deserve your neglect.”

I winced now, guiltily. “I forgot I…” I hesitated, and half expected Grier to fill the lull, as he often did. But the goblin merely raised his brow at me again, and I shuffled in my shame. “... Of course. I’m sorry. I will be sure to collect them from their lessons today…” I couldn’t help a guilty glance over my shoulder, as if I would be able to see the clothes scrunched up behind my back. “... I just need to drop something off in my rooms first, then I promise I’ll go straight to see them.”

“I appreciate that.” He replied, nodding slightly. “I know you likely didn’t intend for them to get swept up in… whatever this is.” He crossed his arms again. “Still, I hope you and your brother reconcile soon.” His toothy grin returned. “I miss our little bird.”

I laughed softly, dropping my gaze to the floor. “I don’t think we’re fighting, per say...” I hesitated briefly, “...but I’ll… keep that in mind.”

“And I’ll keep in mind that being stubborn and hot tempered runs in the family.” He mused, his voice still light-hearted. “And will try to muster what patience I can to wait this out.”

I almost laughed again, but settled for a respectful dip of my head. I longed to inch away, back down the hall in the direction of my rooms. But waited as long as I could stand under the goblin King’s scrutiny to avoid any more suspicion. Grier did consider me one last time, then sighed and gave his own little nod. Turning to head off himself. No sooner had he started than I spun and darted down the hall. Pulling my bundle of clothes around to shield them from his view as I did. I wondered only briefly what he would make of that, but didn’t bother to linger on it long.

I took the steps to the tower two at a time, my heart pounding in my ears by the time I reached the top. Thankfully, no one else was around at that moment, and I made it back to my rooms unmolested.

I leaned back against my closed door with a brief sigh of relief. I hoped Grier wouldn’t go looking for Niko yet. I knew he would be inclined to tell my brother about our interaction; the two shared just about everything with one another. Still I hoped he might wait until much later in the day. To give me a chance to properly wrap things up here before one of the pair came looking for me again. I didn’t linger long against the wood, my eyes already darting about the small sitting room. But it seemed my strange company was nowhere to be seen. I had been away for far too long for him to be bathing still, I reasoned. Unless perhaps he was a particularly lazy orc, or was enjoying the hot, fresh water a bit too much. Not that I could picture such a thing, though I reminded myself I didn’t know him all that well after all. I gathered up the salve and bandages from before in my bundle, listening for any sounds I might hear. I noticed the door to the bathing rooms appeared to be as I had left it, and hesitantly made my way over. I quickly chided myself, straightening up and squaring my shoulders. These were my rooms. I shouldn’t have to sneak about shyly.

I did however allow him the courtesy of rapping my knuckles lightly against the sliding door.

“Hey, you still alive in there?” I called lightly.

When there was no response, my heart leapt, and I attempted to force down the sudden anxiety trapping itself in my throat. I cracked my knuckles against the door again, then slowly slid it open. More than a little leery of seeming something I didn’t want to see. Or admitting to myself that maybe it was something I did. The memory of our last parting surfaced unbidden to my thoughts, and I stubbornly pushed it away.

The bathing room beyond was empty. The waters rippled and gently gurgled with the natural flow of the water, but otherwise it was still. I might have been able to convince myself that the entire day had been a figment of my overactive imagination had it not been for the pile of soiled towels by the edge of the pool. I groaned internally, bustling in and peeking into the corners as if the behemoth man could have somehow managed to hide behind the potted plants. At least there didn’t appear to be a trail of blood anywhere. I prayed to whomever was listening that the dolt hadn’t deigned to leave the chambers.

“Where are you, you idiot?” I grumbled, tucking my bundle under one arm and heading to the door at the opposite end.

“In here.” Came the reply, and I nearly shook with relief.

He must have keener hearing than I thought. Or he had been listening for my return. The door to my bedroom was slightly cracked, and I shouldered it the rest of the way open, then spun to close it behind me. Using the motion as an excuse to steady myself as the sound of his deep voice seemed to have rattled me strangely.

“I do hope you aren’t-” I started as I turned, then promptly squealed loudly in surprise, dumping the clothes, bandages, and salve unceremoniously to the floor as both hands shot up to cover my eyes.

“Eh?” I heard the shuffle of his feet across the bare stone floor as he must have continued his own turn to face me. “Is something the matter?”

“WHERE ARE YOUR CLOTHES??” I nearly shrieked.

Though I kept my palms firmly clasped over my eyes, the previous momentary glimpse of the half-orc’s assured nudity was currently seared deep into my mind’s eye. The fine toned abdomen. The taut green buttocks, with a dimple above the top of each cheek in the small of his back. He must have washed his hair, for the long mohawk of growth had spilled over his skin like polished ebony in soft looking tendrils. Leading my eyes over his broad green shoulders. And when he had started to turn… the soft ‘v’ shape at the top of his hips leading down to…

The sight (and now, memory of the sight) left my mouth decidedly dry and my lips refusing to work properly. I felt an unfamiliar twitch in my fingers as the urge to pull them apart and sneak another peek rushed through me. There was no way! No way any man should be that… I swallowed hard, shaking my head with my hands pressed so tightly to my face it almost hurt.

“You said they were filthy, and inappropriate.” He reminded me matter-of-factly, and I could almost hear the shrug of those big shoulders. Big, broad, muscular shoulders-

“That doesn’t mean you should walk around NAKED!” I snapped, finally starting to come to my senses. I shifted my hands so that one covered both eyes, and crouched down in an attempt to blindly find what I had discarded in my panic.

“What was I to wear?” He replied. “Your drying cloths are tiny. I needed three just to-”

“I don’t care!” I managed to find the clothes by groping about with my free hand, and stood. Tossing them towards the sound of his voice and hearing a disgruntled huff as they hit him. “Just put those on, quickly, before my breakfast makes a reappearance.”

Erramun gave an angry grumble, but I heard the shake and shuffle of cloth as he did. “I didn’t know human stomachs were so sensitive.” His voice became muffled briefly as I assumed he pulled the shift over his head. “I always thought my mother was being dramatic when she scolded me for forgetting to dress.”

“If your mother imparted any other wisdom to you regarding humans, I suggest now is the time you take it to heart.” I replied sourly. Careful to keep my palms firmly fastened over my eyes. Though the heat of my cheeks nearly burned me.

I was so focused on not looking, I didn’t hear the soft scrape of his bare feet again as he moved forward. I jumped about a foot in the air as his hands suddenly came around my wrists. Gently pulling them free from my face. Leaving me suddenly face to face with a soft silk and cotton shirt, its untied collar just hinting at the toned chest I had been privy to moments before. I tried to ignore that memory, and fought through a sudden haze at the realization that his fingers were almost as gentle and soft as they were strong. And how close he currently stood to me. My heart skipped and I felt my breath catch in my throat as my head craned back to look up at him. He gave me a lopsided grin that had my knees feeling a little weak, and I felt him gently turn my hands in his. Until the backs of my hands rested in his palms and he could run his thumbs over the pads of my fingers.

“I am sorry, Gana,” He told me gently, “I did not mean to startle you so.”

 For a second, I couldn’t find the air in my lungs to speak. I struggled for a moment, and saw those bright emerald green eyes of his flick about my face. Thoughtfully, perhaps… almost appreciatively. And the way he was studying my features suggested he had been meaning to do just that for some time now. Up close, with seemingly time to spare to linger on each inch. I felt the flames beneath each cheek rekindle, but was strangely frozen for another few staggered beats of my heart. Finally, I yanked my hands from his, quickly shaking my head again to dispel the moment. Stubbornly denying it had ever existed.

“Is the apology her wisdom or yours?” I quipped, pleased to find my sarcasm still had a sharp bite to it despite the swirling quality of my thoughts.

My heart nearly faltered again at his answering smile. “A little bit of both, I suppose.”

I scoffed, trying to clear my head as I waved my hand at him dismissively. “Then perhaps there is some hope for you after all…” I took a step back, eager to put some space between us and hopefully regain a little more of my senses. “What are you even doing back here?” I put my hands on my hips. “I don’t suppose your mother ever told you it is incredibly rude to snoop around a lady’s chambers?”

“Hmm. She may have raised that point once or twice.” He grinned again, turning to follow my progression as I stalked around him angrily. I crouched down briefly to gather up the remainders of my bundle from the floor. “But you took longer than expected… And I was curious.” His head cocked to the side as he slowly followed me to the center of the room by the bed. “Are these the Princess’ rooms?”

I nearly dropped the jar and bandages again, spinning on him with the vial of healing salve in hand. “What makes you say that??”

He nodded to the corner. “The jewels and such.” I followed his gaze to my vanity table, where I had left some never used jewelry as thoughtlessly as one might discard soiled clothes on a chair. “I do not think even human servants tend to have such things.”

“I never said I was a servant.” I reminded him sourly, then jerked my chin. “Sit.”

“You haven’t said much of anything.” He shot back, but did as he was told and settled onto the chest at the foot of the bed.

“Eventually you may just conclude that that is entirely by design.” I said, opening the jar as he rolled his shirt up on one side. I pretended not to notice the tautness of his flesh or the shape of his abdomen as I slowly spread some of the salve on his wound. It seemed to have mostly stopped bleeding, which was good. “You may even come to remember that I am looking to get you out of here as quickly as I can. And the sooner that is the better.”

“Do I really disgust you so?” He asked, sounding bitter.

My eyes darted up to his face in surprise. And I got stuck in the quality of those emerald greens for a moment longer than I would ever admit. I adjusted my tongue in my mouth, forcing my eyes away from his finally and reaching for the pile of bandages I had brought.

“... You don’t disgust me.” I admitted quietly.

He snorted, wincing slightly as I began to carefully apply first a clean square bandage, then the longer ones wrapped about him to hold it in place. It brought me uncomfortably close to him. I couldn’t help but take in a breath next to his skin, and found the smell of him made my nostrils quiver. I was just surprised to find he didn’t stink anymore, I assured myself silently. That was all. I had come to expect him to smell like dirt and blood, not this strangely pleasant smell he currently had. It meant nothing that I noticed it.

“You don’t seem to like me all that much.” He replied. “I am not sure what else it would be.”

I straightened, having secured the end of the bandage in place, and crossed my arms over my chest. “Oh, obviously I must hate you then. That must be why, and it has nothing at all to do with the reason why you are even here in the first place.” I scoffed.

“Eh?”

My eyes rolled, and I was grateful for it as I didn’t have to watch him roll his shirt back down over his stomach again. The way his shoulders shifted and moved beneath the fabric wasn’t at all fair.

“You came here insistent that you would be marrying the Princess. Am I supposed to welcome you with open arms?” I placed my hands back on my hips and scowled at him. “Perhaps you assume that since you plan to marry her, that means you should be treated as a Prince?”

That warranted me a loud guffaw, and my eyes widened slightly in surprise. His crooked grin had my heart skipping, and I scoffed again in an attempt to dislodge it from my throat. The big orc stood, swaying for half a moment and forcing me back a step as he reached out to steady himself on the post beam of the bed. I eyed him warily, not too fond of the idea of being crushed by his bulk should he lose his balance and completely topple over. He managed to keep his feet however, and half staggered over to a full length mirror.

The clothes fit him surprisingly well, though it seemed that General Damjan was a bit narrower and lankier than he was. The sleeves of his cream colored shirt bunched up at his wrists, but you couldn’t tell since the collar of the shirt was filled with soft ruffles and the style was of a looser fit. It draped lazily over his shoulders, clinging to his upper arms and chest as he moved, with a straight cut that had him looking even taller than before. His trousers, a dark brown, disappeared beneath the long hanging tails of the shirt, but hugged his thighs snuggly. The outside seam of each leg had a dash of lighter thread, accenting the length of his limbs, as well as their shape. I had to take a moment to adjust my gaze from those firm, muscular thighs of his before his emerald eyes noticed me ogling him from behind.

“I look… foolish…” He grumbled.

I crossed my arms. “Good, you finally reflect your natural state then.” He snorted, turning this way and that and playing with the fabrics. I rolled my eyes again. “The shirt is supposed to be tucked into the pants. You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

He glanced at me in the mirror, then back at his shirt. “... How?? These pants are too tight. There is no space!”

That had me laughing, despite myself. Certainly the goblins had an interesting sense of fashion, preferring aesthetics over functionality and comfort. Though I supposed the same could be said for some of the human court styles. Neither had put much thought into moving around. And based upon his previous attire, pants were not something the young orc was used to. My laugh petered out when I saw his lopsided grin waiting for me in the mirror. His whole face seemed a little brighter for it. I shook my head, unable to hide a lingering smile, and moved over to the bed.

“Alright, enough of that. I have someplace to be. And you should get some rest.” I told him as I adjusted the thick blankets and pillows. Peeling back a corner for him.

“You’re leaving again?”

My eyes darted up to him, surprised to hear the tang of remorse in his words. I slapped the blankets a few times for good measure. Letting out an impatient sigh.

“Yes, it may come as a shock to you, but I actually do have regular responsibilities outside of cleaning up errant wandering idiots.” I teased, straightening and taking a step back to allow him access to the bed. “Plus I have to see to your mare still.”

“... So I can stay?”

I groaned, pushing my wild hair back out of my face. Trying to ignore the odd pitter patter of my heart at the question. I gave him a once over, as if chewing on the thought. Certainly it was not because I was making excuses to prolong his company. That of course I found the half-orc taxing. There shouldn’t be any question that I wanted him out of my life as soon as possible.

“I can’t very well send you off until I know you aren’t going to pass out in a ditch somewhere.” I told him. Making an effort to sound as though I was at least mildly chaffed with the idea. “So yes, you oaf. You can stay.” I bit my lip, shuffling. “... For now.”

Erramun slowly walked over, sitting on the edge of the mattress. His eyes looked over the room again. I shuffled my skirts and turned to gather up a few things to manage the clutter a bit better. Suddenly very aware of the fact that I had a strange man in my personal chambers. At best it was highly improper. At worst, it was downright dangerous. Afterall, I had only known Erramun a few days, and yet let myself be locked up in my bedroom alone with him. If Niko found out, he might just have a stroke on the spot. Though he might remain upright long enough to run my visitor through with his sword first.

“Won’t the Princess be cross that you are using her chambers to wash an orc?” He mused, tilting his head to one side.

“Half-orc, you mean?” I teased, glad my back was to him so he didn’t see my mouth twitch in amusement. “And I don’t think she’ll mind much.”

“She lets you use these rooms for yourself,” He reasoned, and I saw his nose twitch out the corner of my eye, “The bed smells like you.”

I nearly tripped over my own feet. Tossing an armful of my things into a chest and closing it. I glanced at him briefly as I grabbed a small empty basket and put the remainder of the dressings and the jar of salve in it.

“Stop smelling me. It’s rude.”

He grinned. “I will try to breathe through my mouth then. Or would that be rude too?”

“I’m not sure you’re capable of being anything else.” I returned airly, looking around and considering my handiwork for a moment. “Except perhaps a fool.”

Erramun chuckled, a sound that came from somewhere deep in his chest. I glance at him out the corner of my eye. “I hope the Princess will not think so.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“You are close with her then?”

I groaned. Well, it had been nearly a few minutes since the last mention of the Princess that time. “Honestly, do you ever think of anything else?” I grumbled. “Must be dull, revolving your life around marrying a girl you’ve never met.”

“You say it like I have a choice.” He grumbled right back.

I turned to him once more, the morose tone of his voice giving me pause. It seemed in stark contrast to the teasing lightness from before. The half-orc had his head bowed, his over defined brow scrunched. The long tendrils of his damp hair trailed around his face. I considered this for only a brief moment, returning my hands to my hips.

“Don’t you?” He didn’t look up at me at my words. I felt a tick of irritation at that. “You are an orc, half or otherwise. You are not beholden to the whims of a court, or the expectations of your people. You do not have the same responsibility to put the welfare of others above your own freedom and happiness.” I glanced off to the side, my eyes drifting longingly to the window. “You can wander under the open skies, should you so choose. You can see far off lands, go on adventures, take risks-”

“If I want to be selfish, and ignore the suffering of my people.” He interrupted, his voice heated. “Perhaps everyone here is magically accepting, but at the border, being over six foot and having green skin is enough to get you harassed. If not worse.”

“And marrying a Princess will solve that?” I shot back, equally hot.

“It will ease tensions.” He argued. “It will prove that we are not savages. That we can make alliances-”

I threw up my hands exasperatedly. “Even if I had a year, I still wouldn’t have enough time to point out all the flaws in your reasoning. And right now, I have to go collect my nieces and nephews.” I moved over to swipe a clean cloak from one of the hooks by the armoire. “You stew in your own idiocy, or, preferably, sleep. So that perhaps I can have you out of my hair before it starts to turn grey.” I spun on him, leveling one stern finger at his face. “And don’t even think about leaving this room.”

Erramun raised one brow at me, his thick lips pursing together around his tusks. Then his head tilted to the side, and that lopsided grin returned. It made my determination falter briefly, almost so much that I nearly took a step back in light of it.

“You are quite fierce, Gana.” He mused. “If the Princess is anything like you, I will be lucky.”

That had a sound heat rising to my cheeks, but I shook my head. Scoffing loudly. “You are a fool and a half.” I grumbled, turning my back on him so he couldn’t see the strange crash of emotions that fought their way across my face. “Single minded and absolutely incorrigible.”

He snorted, sounding amused. “Something else then. If I sleep in your bed, where will you sleep?” 

His words had me freezing in the doorway to the foyer. I tried to ignore the rapid speed of my pulse, swallowing heavily and shaking my head. Based upon the tone of his voice, I knew that stupid lopsided smile was still on his face. I replaced the heat of embarrassment at his implication with that of anger.

“Preferably just about anywhere else.” I snapped, then stormed out to the hall. Being sure to lock the door behind me.

UPDATE: Part Five HERE

#Burdened by the Stars #half orc #orc boyfriend #orc romance #orc lover #slow burn #himbo #sass #regency romance #update #monster lover #monster boyfriend #monster x human #poc #frenemies #terato #exophilia #Royal Flush Sequel #li'un ma shkio

[anthonycrowleymoved]

maggie anthonycrowley please dear god please tinhat about the beer this is so funny and you are the resident expert in beer so i very much would love your take

WILD that i apparently AM the resident (american) craft beer expert. alright, but don’t get mad at me about it. you asked. so here is my ‘more info on jackles’ brewery than you probably want’ info, all aggregated into one convenient post

before we get to my opinion on this whole thing, a few disclaimers: 1. i do not, nor have i ever, worked at a brewery, so the actual manufacturing process information is all either speculation based on what i do know or second hand information. 2. i have not tried fbbc’s beer. i would absolutely love to and do a full unbiased review (people in austin hmu), but craft beer in the us is EXTREMELY regional due to both how craft breweries operate (many don’t distribute at all, and those that do, unless they’re quite large, only distribute to a set amount of states), and because i live in mass and you can’t get it outside of texas, i’m stuck in a bit of a lurch. so anything i say about the actual beer will be based off of my impression of the description/facts and reviews i can find from various beer rating websites. but i do know about the general craft beer culture in the states, which is why i still feel comfortable talking about this.

let’s quickly go back to when people were theorizing about eyes in the sky, because that was one of the single most amusing nights of my life, and the main actually-valid argument is related to the theories surrounding this drop. so! let’s go over the extremely hilarious arguments people were touting first, particularly the ones not relevant here, i just think it’s fun to look back on them.

so my personal favorite is ‘well the beer’s orange.’ because. a lot of beer is orange. i’d say the main three colors beer is is either a shade of brown, a shade of yellow, or a shade of orange. you can find beers in other colors, but those are the ones just like, statistically, you’re gonna see a lot. most hazy ipas are vaguely orange. like, almost all of them. i am drinking one Literally right now and it’s also orange. neipas tend to be orange. i PROMISE it’s not that deep. this is all i have to say on the subject and also it’s not relevant to this drop, i just absolutely adore this tinhatting because it’s adorable how little you all know. i say this with love. next.

not related directly to either of the beer drops we’re discussing but: ‘there’s a beer there called helles, which sounds like hell’ y. yes there is. but i am asking you to like. okay. experiment. go into google right now and search ‘breweries near me’ and just. look at the beer listings from the top. i don’t know, let me be safe. ten breweries that show up. i guarantee at least one is going to have a helles. probably more than one. it’s an incredibly common style. not an incredibly TRENDY style, but it’s one of the more common lager styles, and people like them. again, i Promise him making one isn’t that deep. it’s not a fucking altbier or something. next.

now onto rehashed arguments, and i’m going to discuss the stupid one first. ‘the description says fruity’ this one is also being brought up with this drop and it never fails to make me lose it. fruity is an INCREDIBLY common way of describing beer. other common words include things like malty, dank, bready, etc. it’s going to depend on the style, but for ipas in particular, especially american style/east coast, are almost always described as tasting like fruit or tasting like a SPECIFIC fruit (west coast tends to be more dank tasting. think weed rather than an orange smoothie. this sounds mean, but i have literally drank west coast ipas that smell and taste like literal marijuana. so). and like, okay, MAYBE i’d be willing to be like ‘hm curious that he released two ipas, the frutiest style’ (this is a joke because ipas are not the frutiest style. very funny trust me) but what you have to understand about that is like, ipas are EVERYWHERE. they’re insanely trendy and have been for the better part of, i don’t know, five years? if anything, i’m surprised there’s not MORE of his beer that’s ipas. i know of places where that’s like, all they make. anyway. next.

AND FINALLY the actual argument i can maaaaybe get behind because i can’t immediately dispute it. the actual naming of the beer. ‘well what does the name MEAN then???’ the problem is, in both of these cases, i have NO idea. but, and i implied this earlier - i have no idea if he’s even naming the beer. i don’t actually think it’s standard from brewery to brewery, so unless jackles has specifically said he names all of them we can’t assume he does. like, think about it this way. large breweries like, for example, budweiser, a marketing department probably names them. getting to craft, it probably depends on how hands on the owner is. they MIGHT name all of them, it might be a joint effort, they may just sign off on whatever the brewmaster calls it (and, btw, jackles Absolutely is not making the beer. he might know the process and maybe help out, and he’s probably tasting them before they go to market, but i’m not super convinced he’s any more involved in the actual manufacturing process, as evidenced by the fact that someone else is head brewmaster. think like, producer vs writer. just something to think about in future). and like, i can’t shoot this argument down, necessarily, because he MIGHT be naming them and calling the products these names for a specific reason, but we don’t know unless they tell us. like, okay, comparison time again, there’s a popular beer from maine brewing called ‘lunch,’ and they say on the side of the bottle that it’s named after a shark that’s been spotted off the maine coast with a part of her fin bitten off, and that’s why they named the beer that. but like, i wouldn’t know that unless this place told me. there’s about a billion reasons why these beers may have had these names chosen for them, exacerbated by the fact that we don’t even know if jackles, or even daneel, had a large part in the naming process. (also, calling ipas with rainbow-y names isn’t even that uncommon. here’s an example of one i’ve actually had within the past like, two months. it actually kind of sounds similar to the beer drop fbbc had. i’m not saying the name ISN’T relevant but i mean, i’m just saying)

ANYWAY tldr of that is ‘as a beer snob i am unconvinced by almost all of your arguments but i’m really sorry about it because you people are fun’

also, because it’s my blog and i can talk about this, my actual impression of the brewery itself is this. it looks like a pretty standard brewery making pretty solid beer. i mean, based on reviews and such i doubt it’d be my favorite beer i’ve ever had, but i’m from an area where i’m spoiled for choice. i’d honestly love to try it, just to see if they’re riding off the fact that the owner’s famous or if the beer can actually stand on its own. hell, i saw a few beers on their website that i’d love to try. so like, if you see me ragging on it or seeming to rag on it in the future i’m doing it both from a place of love and from a place of i have no idea what it’s actually like. anyway

#spn #anyway this is the post. enjoy #nonny mouse #inquiries #shut up maggie #text

[sapphicwhump]

After Irithyll 3 - Hunger

[ Previous | First | Read on AO3 ]

Fandoms: Dark Souls, Dark Souls III Tropes: sharing food, whumpee x caretaker fluff TWs: canon-typical violence, eating disorder, self-hatred

        Over the next few days, Karla adjusts poorly to the communal living of Firelink Shrine.

        For someone who’s spent the last who-knows-how-long in a tiny dungeon cell, it’s surprising how much she chooses to hide away in her cramped sleeping alcove. Even when you find her venturing out into the larger Shrine, she’s typically stealthing around in a side hallway or clinging to a wall in the main atrium. You’ve practically never seen her exit the Shrine to explore the cemetery surrounding it; the one time you had, she had been returning from the outhouse immediately outside the rear entrance, and had hurried to get back inside as quickly as her weakened legs would allow. At least she’s regained enough strength to make it there without your assistance.

        Socialization is another struggle for her. Since you first arrived with her, she hasn’t spoken to Irina again, nor any other member of the Shrine aside from yourself. You seem to be the only person she’s the slightest bit comfortable around, while the rest she almost compulsively avoids. Despite her fears of rejection over being a hexer, most of the residents seem to simply not care enough to make a stink about it. Thanks to you and Cornyx, they’re already familiar enough with practitioners of distasteful magic. Mercifully, even Eygon manages to hold his tongue, although the lack of hostility doesn’t seem to ease her fear.

        It makes sense, you suppose. Given the circumstances, you can’t really blame Karla for being asocial. You have no idea how long she’d been imprisoned for, and during that time, her only human interaction would have been with Irithyll dungeon’s jailers. Speculating on what those interactions might have been like only succeeds in making you sick.

        Karla’s physical recovery is another of your frequent worries. Although she no longer needs your support to traverse the Shrine, she’s still far from mobile, moving at a frail pace and using a hexing staff as a walking stick to alleviate the gnawing pain in her ankle. If there’s been any reduction in her emaciation, it hasn’t been significant enough for you to notice, despite the availability of food.

        A thought occurs to you: when was the last time you’ve seen Karla eat? It’s common to walk by the other residents of Firelink Shrine during meals; Cornyx has a habit of catching crows and picking at the raw meat with his bare hands, Greirat wolfs down whatever he can steal, Eygon often hunts for both himself and Irina… you can’t remember ever seeing Karla during a meal since that first day you brought her here.

        Yeah, that’s pretty worrying.  

        By the next day, you’ve formulated a plan. Instead of leaving on your adventures shortly after dawn as you usually do, you remain in the Shrine until the early afternoon. For the entire morning, you keep a careful eye on Karla, finding excuses to eat, read, and train within line of sight of her. If she does go for a meal, you’re sure to know about it.

        As the morning drags on, and she does not once attempt to visit Greirat, your worry only grows heavier in your stomach. Even by the time you’re preparing a sandwich for your own lunch, she still hasn’t eaten yet today. With your food in hand, you decide that now is the time to confront her about it.

        “So, I noticed you skipped breakfast this morning.”

        “Oh, I’m fine.” Karla responds hastily. “I simply wasn’t hungry.”

        You respond by taking another bite out of your sandwich. Her eyes follow the motion of your hand up to your mouth, observantly watching you eat. “Want some?” you offer through a mouthful of bread and pork, holding out half of it to her.

        She raises a hand as if to take it from you, but then it falls, along with her expression. “No, thank you. I’m still not particularly hungry.”

        You frown, unconvinced, and Karla picks up on it immediately. “I’ve gone without food for far longer periods of time, Ashen One. I’ll be fine.”

        Your frown persists as you take another bite. “You don’t have to settle for just being ‘fine,’ y’know.” She responds only with a slight grumble, not bothering to articulate a protest.

        Now for the next step of your plan, and the most nerve-wracking one. You continue chewing in silence, but promptly lose your appetite as your stomach does a flip.

        “If you’re not hungry now, how about joining me for breakfast tomorrow?” You applaud your ability to not trip over your own words.

        “Oh! Um… I suppose it would be impolite to turn down the offer.”

        You raise an eyebrow at her. “Do you want to join me for breakfast tomorrow?”

        She pauses, thinking it over for a moment. “...Yes. I do.”

        You contain your internal fist-pump, even if it feels like your excitement could burst out of your chest. “Alright. I’ll cook something for us and bring it to you tomorrow morning.”

        For the rest of the day, you find yourself barely able to concentrate. Distraction is never a good thing on the battlefield, and you return home early that day after getting caught off-guard one too many times. Your thoughts had been of Karla when a hollow thrall dropped on your head and promptly impaled you with its pickaxe, earning you a one-way trip back to the bonfire. Internally cursing your lapse in attention, you resolve to call it quits until tomorrow morning.

        As an undead, starvation can’t set you back any further than a thrall’s pickaxe can, although keeling over from hunger is still an experience you’d prefer to avoid. While you could have simply agreed to procure food for Karla, you’ve elected to cook something for the both of you. The thought of sharing a meal with her produces a pleasant feeling in your stomach that you can’t quite name.

        You’re restricted by your lack of cooking ability, but you still manage to prepare a dish more intricate than your usual meals. Long before anyone else is up, you hunt down and slay a Crystal Lizard roaming outside Firelink Shrine. After gutting and cleaning the kill, you dice the meat into bite-sized chunks, along with some still-good potatoes that Greirat had recently managed to scavenge. Once chopped, you skewer the pieces on metal rods before roasting them over your Pyromancy Flame. No seasonings are available to you other than basic salt, but you get the feeling that Karla won’t complain.

        Walking to Karla’s alcove with a shish kebab in each hand, you see that she’s hung a curtain of black fabric from the walkway above it. It’s understandable; with Firelink Shrine’s open design, and Karla’s habitual seclusion from the other residents, you can see why she would want a bit more privacy. You transfer a shish kebab to your other hand and pull the curtain aside.

        Karla is engrossed in a scroll of hexes you had given her yesterday, but looks up from it as you appear from behind her curtain. Immediately, you see a sudden jolt of terror pass through her, before she sucks in a heavy gasp and scurries backwards on her hands and knees to the right-side corner of the alcove. She pulls her knees up to her chest and curls herself into a tiny ball, before looking back up at the intruder. The wide-eyed terror in her grimace almost burns you.

        “Ohh… it’s just you.” The tension drains from her face, and she releases the gasp she’s been holding in. “You gave me quite the start. Please knock next time.”

        “Oh. Okay. Sorry.” The guilt in your tone is palpable. “Um… I made us breakfast, like we agreed yesterday. We should eat somewhere else; getting crumbs in your bed will attract vermin.”

        She nods, grabbing her hexing staff and starting to haul herself to her feet. Seeing her struggle, you offer her a hand, and this time she accepts it without protest.

        “My apologies for snapping at you, Ashen One. I startle far too easily; it's my bad.”

        “Hey, I should be the one apologizing.”

        You lead her to a wooden folding table you’ve set up just inside the Shrine’s rear entrance, and she seats herself on the bench across from you. Through the archways, an amazing view of the mountain range to the south of Lothric Castle is visible, and Karla can’t seem to tear her eyes away from it.

        “Sorry if the meat is a little charred; I killed the lizard by throwing lava at it.” You extend one of the shish kebabs to her, and she takes it with a hint of hesitance.

        Karla cautiously takes a meager bite of the topmost chunk of lizard meat, and something warm grows within you as her expression rapidly shifts from apprehension to surprised delight. Before she’s finished chewing, she sinks her teeth into the rest of the piece and smoothly slides it off the skewer, before pulling the entire chunk into her mouth. You can’t help but stare, momentarily mesmerized by the movement of her jaw.

        “Beats prison food.” she replies with her mouth full of meat and her expression full of satisfaction.

        A few minutes of quiet eating pass before you try to strike up a conversation. “So where did you learn hexing? It’s not exactly part of any arcane school’s curriculum.”

        She raises a suspicious eyebrow. “Why do you ask?

        “Because I’d like to get to know you better.”

        “Mm.” She doesn’t seem to appreciate your answer, but accepts it regardless. “From my mother. Hexes are passed down matrilineally.”

        You nod in acknowledgement. “What was your home life like?”

        She almost scowls at you for a moment, and you briefly worry the question may have been a step too far, before her expression softens. “Um… fairly good. My mother is a witch, and my father is a retired knight. As far as I know, they’re still happily married.” She looks away from you, and her tone falls. “It’s been a long time, though.”

        “That’s good to hear, at least.” you say between bites. “I learned most of my pyromancies from Cornyx. I’ve had my Flame since I was raised as an undead, although I have no idea who I originally got it from. I probably had a family at some point, but I can’t remember anything from when I was alive. Side effect of being raised from a pile of ash, I guess.”

        “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

        “Eh, don’t be. Can’t miss what I can’t remember. The Shrine isn’t always the most functional family, but it’s the one I’ve got now.”

        “You seem to have a good master-student relationship with the other pyromancer, at least.”

        “Cornyx? Yeah. He’s very cordial, and has really been a rock for me through some of my rough patches. Although he is a more traditional brand of pyromancer, and he can be pretty set in his ways. It’s frustrating when he arbitrarily deems a spell ‘heretical’ and won’t go over it with me.”

        “Well, heresies are somewhat of a specialty for me…” She pauses to finish swallowing a bit of potato.

        “Oh? Is that an invitation?” You raise your eyebrows and give her a tentative smile.

        She doesn’t return the expression. “What I was going to say was, I can’t exactly blame him.”

        Your voice falls. “Oh.”

        The conversation settles into an awkward silence after that, which neither of you are immediately willing to break. Karla continues digging into her shish kabob, and you’re pleasantly surprised to see the progress she's making; it’s more than you've ever seen her eat before.

        It takes you a bit to work up the nerve before you finally break the silence. “Um… so I know adjusting to life here has been kinda hard for you. If you have any lingering questions about the Shrine, feel free to ask.”

        “I suppose there is one thing…” A hint of anxiety slips into Karla’s tone. “Have you ever had to exile anyone?”

        “Only once. Her name was Yuria, of Londor.”

        “What did she do?”

        You sigh internally at the painful memory. “She tried to force an arranged marriage between me and a knight I had previously fought alongside, Anri of Astora. It was for political reasons, and would have allowed me to become a lord of Londor. I refused many times, but she kept trying to pressure me into it.”

        The early signs of her anxiety dissipate, easing into curiosity. “You gave up a lordship for it? I take it you really didn’t fancy this Anri fellow, then?”

        “He was a competent warrior and excellent friend, but… he was a man.”

        She pauses mid-bite, before the recognition sets in. You think you see her cheeks take on a bit of pinkness as she finishes chewing. “Ah. I see.”

        Although Karla’s health was your first priority in inviting her to this breakfast, it was also part of your plan to use this opportunity to ask her a question. Despite her disheartening comment about Cornyx, you won't be deterred so easily.

        “Um, about what we did to escape the dungeon… Flame really shouldn’t just be given away freely like that. Your Flame is just as much a part of yourself as your arm is, so sharing it with someone else sort of... links you together with them. It’s typically reserved for the formation of a bond between master and apprentice.”

        She nods in understanding. “I get your reasons for being uncomfortable with it. But, I deeply appreciate what you did for me. It’s filled a void that I’ve lived with for so long, and we likely wouldn’t have made it out otherwise.”

        “That’s not exactly what I meant.” You pause, your hand going to the back of your neck. “I guess what I’m asking is, would you be interested in taking me on as an apprentice?”

        Karla pauses mid-bite, her eyes going wide. “Wait, really? You’re truly interested in learning the ways of the Dark?”

        “Totally. I mean, you killed five people with one spell; I don’t think even Cornyx is that good. You make the Dark look pretty impressive.”

        She still seems surprised, but her initial shock fades into a condescending amusement. “The request is charming, but you don’t know what you ask of me. I can tell you aren’t a wicked one; not like I am.”

        “What’s wickedness got to do with it? I just want to get better at fighting. No point in restricting my horizons.”

        “Hm.” Her short chuckle comes off as slightly condescending. “Probably not a wise decision on your part. I should tell you the story of how Wolnir of Carthus fell to the Abyss.”

        Your face is in the middle of falling when she follows up her statement. “...But, I suppose we could work something out. Cornyx won’t mind sharing his student, will he?”

        Your spirits lift at her offer. “Eh, he might have some objections to me learning dark pyromancies, but I wouldn’t worry about it. I know he’s good-natured enough to let it go.”

        “Alright then. Plus… I think it will be nice to play master for once.” She gives a tiny giggle as she finishes the last bite of her shish kebab, and you can’t help but blush.

        You stand from the table, before an idea crosses your mind. “Irina also said you need exercise…”

        “Mmh.” Karla groans in displeasure.

        “Want to take a walk with me around the Shrine grounds?”

        Her expression reverses, the corner of her mouth pulling upwards. “That sounds bearable.”

[ Next ]

#dark souls #dark souls 3 #ds3 #karla #whump #lady whump #female whumpee #caretaker pov #after irithyll

[besanii]

I soo loved jealous!lwj in the latest sm update... now I really need a scene where he finds Wei ying afterwards... what was he doing during the day lan zhan was trying to find him?^^

[from #37, set just before #05]

Lan Guoyan has submitted a formal petition to the court for Wei Wuxian’s hand in marriage.

The words echo endlessly in his head as he leaves the restaurant, drowning out the chatter of the crowd around him. His stomach churns, bile rising in the back of his throat as he imagines Lan Guoyan proposing to Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuxian—

He wouldn’t, he tells himself firmly. He won’t.

Who says he hasn’t? 

Those words again, in his cousin’s voice, full of confidence and challenge. He clenches his teeth and ploughs through the crowded street, his hands white-knuckled against the hilt of his sword. He’s always known his cousin to be cocky, a trait often frowned upon by their elders, and a part of him knows better than to believe his taunts. But another part of him, the part that remembers the way Wei Wuxian laughs and jests so freely with Lan Guoyan, knows that there may be an ounce of truth to his words.

He cannot afford to take that risk.

But he hasn’t been able to find Wei Wuxian all day. Not in the library, the schoolroom, the gardens, his chambers, nor his favourite hiding spot in the Northern watch tower. The cold dread grows in the pit of Lan Wangji’s stomach with every new location, until he feels the first tendrils of panic clawing at the back of his throat. The servants had eventually directed him out of the palace entirely, saying they had seen the Ward of Yunmeng heading out of the gates earlier in the day.

Now, with the sun setting over the river and night fast approaching, Lan Wangji has no choice but to make his way back to the palace before the gates are locked for the night. 

I like Xiao Wei. I have feelings for him. I want to marry him.

The words haunt every step he takes towards Wei Wuxian’s rooms. From Lan Guoyan’s lips, they had sounded so easy, so effortless, as if they did not carry the weight of the Imperial Family behind them. He supposes they wouldn’t, not for his cousin, who is far removed from the line of succession that he would not have to worry about who he married. Lan Wangji, however, has understood from a very young age that his marriage would not be his choice, that he would never have the luxury of marrying for love.

Wei Wuxian’s rooms are dark, save for one room. It lifts his hopes, and he climbs the last few steps in quick strides to knock on the door.

“Who is it?” Wei Wuxian calls from inside.

“Wei Ying. It’s me.” A long, pregnant pause follows. “Please open the door.”

He hears footsteps shuffling around inside for a moment, before the door opens a crack and Wei Wuxian’s body servant slips through; he bows to Lan Wangji.

“Er-dianxia.” He keeps his head bowed low. “Wei-gongzi is feeling unwell and has retired for the evening. He begs your forgiveness and promises to call upon you first thing tomorrow morning.”

Lan Wangji frowns. “Have you sent for the physician?”

“No, Er-dianxia,” the servant replies. “Gongzi says it is just a chill and he will be better after some rest. There is no need for concern.”

Lan Wangji is unconvinced.

“Gusu is much colder than Yunmeng,” he says. “It will be difficult for Wei-gongzi to recover when he is not yet acclimatised to the weather here. It would be best to have a physician attend to him immediately before it can get any worse.”

“Er-dianxia,” the servant says, his eyes darting to door nervously. “I’m afraid—”

“Go,” Lan Wangji orders. The servant is instantly cowed by his tone and hurries to obey, muttering a quick word of acknowledgment as he leaves. It leaves Lan Wangji standing outside Wei Wuxian’s door, alone. “Wei Ying. I know you’re awake. Please open the door.”

Footsteps approach the door, but it does not open. Instead, Wei Wuxian’s voice floats through, much closer than before, but more subdued.

“I’m not feeling well today, Lan Zhan,” he says. “I’m already dressed for bed, so it would not be appropriate.”

His refusal sends a twinge of pain through Lan Wangji’s heart. Never, in all the time Lan Wangji has known him, has Wei Wuxian cared for propriety—or not thrown the door open as soon as he knew Lan Wangji was on the other side. The closed door between them suddenly feels more like a rift.

“Wei Ying.” He takes a deep breath and places a hand on the door. “I’ve been wanting to speak to you, but I wasn’t able to find you.”

Wei Wuxian sighs. “I went for a walk to clear my head, so I haven’t been in the palace all day.”

“I—Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says haltingly. There are too many thoughts, too many words in his mind, clamouring at his throat, that he doesn’t know which to voice first. “I heard about the proposal.”

“Yeah?” Wei Wuxian chuckles, but even through the door it sounds forced. “I guess good news does travel fast around here, even if gossiping is against palace etiquette.”

Good news. The words drop like boulders into the hollow of Lan Wangji’s chest. He curls the fingers against the door into fists to stop them from shaking.

“Is it?” he asks quietly.

“Is it what?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Lan Wangji takes another deep breath to ground himself.

“Good news,” he says. “Is it, Wei Ying?”

“Isn’t it?” Wei Wuxian asks. His voice is strained now, like he’s holding himself back—although from what, Lan Wangji cannot tell. “Yan-ge is great. He’s handsome, he’s rich, he’s got status, he knows how to have fun. We’re...well-matched. Compatible.”

Each compliment is like a wedge driving into his chest, threatening to split him open, reminding him of how different they are. That Lan Guoyan shares more in common with Wei Wuxian than Lan Wangji ever will. That Lan Guoyan makes Wei Wuxian laugh. Not like Lan Wangji, who had rebuked him harshly just the other day for something so inconsequential he had already forgotten why he’d been upset in the first place.

They’re compatible. Lan Guoyan likes him. And Wei Wuxian—

“Do you love him?” Lan Wangji asks, because he has to know. He leans closer to the door and hears Wei Wuxian’s breathing grow harsher. His voice, when he next speaks, wavers.

“Yan-ge is great,” he says again. “Who wouldn’t love him? There are people lined up through the streets of Caiyi who would give anything for the chance to marry him.”

“But do you?” Lan Wangji presses, his forehead touching the door lightly as he closes his eyes tightly. “Wei Ying, do you love him?”

Wei Wuxian is silent for so long, Lan Wangji is afraid he won’t answer. Then—

“Does it matter?” he asks quietly. “Why does it matter, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Wangji exhales.

“It matters,” he says. “It matters, Wei Ying. If you love him—”

If Wei Wuxian says yes, then Lan Wangji will leave. He will wish them happiness, and he will leave. He’ll submit a petition for his assignment to the front lines to be pushed forward, and be out of Caiyi within the week. He’ll stay away for a few years, until the hurt is not so deep, until he gathers enough of his heart back together again to face them without the world threatening to shatter beneath his feet.

Wei Wuxian laughs, choked and wet and thick with emotion. There’s a heavy thud against the door, against Lan Wangji’s hand, like Wei Wuxian has pressed his own against it.

“What do you want to hear, Lan Zhan?” he asks. “What do you want me to say? That I like Yan-ge, maybe even love him, but not in the way he deserves? That I might just accept his proposal even so, because there may be no better offer in the future and I’m lucky he even chose me?”

Relief floods through him at Wei Wuxian’s admission; he could almost sob with it. But there’s guilt too: guilt at causing Wei Wuxian pain, and at rejoicing that his cousin has not won, at letting his own jealousy cloud his judgment. He listens to Wei Wuxian weep softly on the other side of the door, and nothing else matters.

“Wei Ying,” he says. “There is—there is another offer. If you wish to take it.”

Wei Wuxian’s breath hitches, and it sends Lan Wangji’s heart racing.

“What are you saying?” he whispers.

Lan Wangji clears his throat.

“There is another offer,” he repeats. He takes another deep breath and releases it with a shudder. “Marry me. Marry me, Wei Ying. If you will take me, I promise to love you, to cherish you above all others. To protect you, to take care of you. To fight by your side, to fight for you. Wei Ying, I love you. Marry me.”

The weight on the other side of the door is gone, but it remains stubbornly closed. Lan Wangji leans against it still, his breaths coming in harsh pants, and his heart threatening to burst from his chest as he waits for Wei Wuxian to respond. There’s no movement, no sound from inside the room except for muffled sobs. And then, after a long silence, Wei Wuxian is back at the door.

“Lan Zhan...” his voice is hoarse, “you can’t—I can’t—it’s too much. I don’t—I don’t want to think about it right now. Please don’t do this now.”

The rift between them grows, shudders beneath his feet until he’s no longer sure he’s standing upright. He stumbles back, away from the door, the air burning in his lungs as he fights for composure.

“Very well,” he says, his voice cold and distant to his own ears. “I apologise for having caused you distress. I wish you good health and a quick recovery.”

He turns on his heel and walks away. If the door flies open after he leaves, if he hears a voice call out for him to wait, it could only be a figment of his imagination, nothing more.

// buy me a ko-fi //

Master Post is here

#mdzs #wangxian #shattered mirrors au #shattered mirrors fic #王爷机 X 花魁羡 #my writing #oh this got long #🔪🔪🔪 #yeah i think this deserves at least three knives #hey guys we're tying stuff together #go us! #dw guys we know it goes well #eventually #the reason wwx is gone all day is because of Plot #stuff actually happens during the day #but LWJ doesn't know #he just thinks WWX is avoiding him #hey remember when we all freaked out when we found out they were actually engaged before? #good times #i loved the OMG THEY WERE ENGAGED??? messages #anyway enjoy some relationship angst

[writer-dreams]

Love Potion (End) (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Love Potion is finally coming to an end. It feels so bittersweet that I finally have to finish this fic. I hope you enjoy this final part.

Prologue / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / End

Update Tags: @celestialceci @marvelobsessedteen @imaginesforthepeople @danidomm @marvelrose @vogueworthy-barnes @glossysoph @stevesvibraniumshield @bi-mama @fiveisadorable @paulalucianap1 @drama-llama-04 @mellow-delight @hahaboop @awesomehannaha @stantalentstanclc @queenskyster @outsider-underwater @babebenhardy @imaginespnr5er @riddikuluslypotter @pitkins @bughug1999 @drawlfoy @onyxbunny22 @sorgenprinzessin @vivianhuynh77 @dauntlessdracarys @jellyfishbeansontoast @frenchkpoplover @kaibie @starvinggaywriter @lunathepettuna @accio-rogers @summer-wasteland @storymage-danganronpa @daintyyukhei @writerandee @accio-perseus @fightpain-with-morepain @dracoboimalfoy @cynthianokamaria @lune--chaos @outsider-underwater @ellojustafangirlhere​ @never-trusthugs​ @mariensky​ @cyrraluu @someone-you-dontknow @accio-rogers

House: You choose

Blood Status: You choose

Warnings: Possible swearing, light angst

Note: The reader in this story is female / uses female pronouns

Word Count: 3,085 words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Final Day

3rd Person POV

Y/n was happily walking down the halls, humming a soft tune to herself. She was feeling especially giddy to see Draco, considering last night's events. The sensation of his lips on hers still lingered, giving her butterflies. Suddenly, she nearly walked into somebody, stopping herself just in time before she slammed into their chest. She looked up, hoping it was Draco, but was instead greeted by the two mischievous Weasley twins.

"Hey, Y/n." The two chirped, "You're looking quite cheerful this morning."

"Of course I am." Y/n answered, raising an eyebrow at their almost sinister grins.

"Alright, alright. I suppose you've waited long enough for this. Here, you deserve it." Fred handed her a small glass bottle.

"What is it?" Y/n asked, inspecting it curiously.

"It's the anti-love potion of course!" George said smugly.

Y/n's heart almost stopped. The world around her suddenly felt too confining, it was practically suffocating her. The walls seemed to be shrinking, threatening to crush her. She gasped, staring at the bottle in her hand. The pink liquid inside glowed menacingly, almost as if it was laughing at her.

"Y/n! Hey, Y/n! Are you okay?" George waved a hand in front of her. She snapped out of her trance and quickly looked around. The large walls of the corridor were back to their normal size and showed no signs of changing. The bottle in her hand wasn't glowing anymore and the twins in front of her were giving her concerned looks.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Y/n waved them off. "Thanks for the potion, guys." She immediately turned away and began walking away, leaving the two twins staring at each other in confusion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Had the seventh day really come that quickly? The past few days felt like a blur, she wasn't ready to end this. They only finally admitted their feelings to each other, and now she had to lose him. The Draco that she had grown to love was going to disappear and she would never see him again. If she decided to avoid giving him the potion, not only would she be in love with a lie but it would also raise questions from others.

Speaking of Draco, she noticed him waiting for her at the end of the hallway. Slowly, she approached him, trying not trip over her own feet. He grinned at her, walking up to her and wrapping his arms tightly around her body. Y/n cautiously returned the hug, as if he were made of glass. Draco noticed how loose the hug was, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Is there something wrong, Love?" Draco asked.

Oh, how her heart ached knowing this would be the last time he would call her that nickname. She opened her mouth, her hand moving to her pocket, grazing the outline of the potion to give to him. However, she then looked up into his eyes. Those damned grey eyes that were filled with concern and she found that she couldn't bring herself to grab the bottle. Her hand curled into a tight fist in her pocket as she cursed softly to herself.

"Nothing's wrong." She beamed at him.

Draco seemed unconvinced but nodded anyway, linking his arm with hers. He pulled her along excitedly, taking her up to the seventh-floor corridor and then up to a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls to dance the ballet.

"Draco, what is this?" Y/n asked, trying not to laugh at the banner in front of them.

"Watch, princess." He smiled warmly, letting go of her hand. He began walking back forth in front of the blank wall next to the tapestry. As he turned around for a third time, a door suddenly appeared on the wall. Y/n's eyes widened as Draco opened the door and gestured for her to go inside.

"Ladies first." He joked.

"Then I suppose you should go first, right?" Y/n retorted.

"Just another reason I love you; your wit. Always able to answer with a comeback on the spot." Draco chuckled, "Just go through the damn door."

Y/n laughed and walked through. The sight on the other side of the door left her speechless.

At the back end of the room, there was a grand fireplace against the wall. A warm fire was blazing wildly, much like the one in the Gryffindor common room when she came to visit her friends. There wasn't much else in the room except a large knit rug on the floor and a sofa in front of the fireplace. The fire was the only source of light in the room, which gave the room a sense of comfort. She looked to Draco, who was already looking at her with a smile.

"I didn't want to do anything too extravagant. So I went for simplicity." He explained.

He led her into the room and they sat down on in front of the fire. Without thinking, Y/n rested her head on Draco's shoulder, staring into the flames. The boy next to her pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her gently.

"You don't mind that this wasn't expensive or somewhere more fancy?" He asked worriedly.

Y/n shook her head, leaning more into him; "As long as I'm with you, I don't care."

Draco lightly gripped her chin and tilted it up so she looked into those beautiful grey eyes. He smiled again at her before connecting their lips in a sweet kiss.

Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck, not wanting this moment to ever end. Screw Fred and George, screw the dare, screw the potion, the only thing that mattered to her right now was being here with the boy she was in love with. The two ended the kiss and Y/n snuggled against Draco's warm body. She could hear his heart rhythmically beat in chest and realized that her heart was beating in unison with his. She just wanted to stay like this, with him. But she could feel the outline of the potion in her pocket, a constant reminder that this had to end, no matter how much she wished it wouldn't. Yet, she still couldn't bring herself to give it to him now.

I'll give it to him later.....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Many hours and 'laters' had passed and Y/n still could not bring herself to give Draco the damn potion. She leaned against the sink in the girl's first floor bathroom, avoiding the second floor so Moaning Myrtle wouldn't see her. Tears flowed down her cheeks, as she sobbed to herself quietly. Sooner or later, she had to do it. There was no more delaying it. Though it tortured her heart, Draco didn't deserve to be taken advantage of. If she truly loved him, she knew that she had to let him go.

Sniffling and drying her tears, she made herself a little more presentable before she left. She had to find Draco and do the right thing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't until dinnertime that Y/n found Draco. She was seated next to him, dreading what was going to happen next. Seeing him turned away from his goblet, she quickly snatched it. Her hands shakily grabbed the potion from her pocket as she twisted open the cork. She took a deep breath, settling her nerves as she poured the potion into his drink. She placed it back on the table, trying her best not to break down. Draco turned around, glancing at her with worried eyes.

"What's wrong, Love?"

There it was again. That damned pet name. Her lip trembled but she refused to show Draco how upset she was. In a few moments, he wouldn't care anyway. In fact, he'd probably taunt her for how she was feeling. She forced a smile, putting her hand over his.

"I'm just so happy that I can call you my boyfriend." Y/n said, willing her voice not to crack near the end.

Draco grinned softly, pulling her into a hug. "I love you so much. I can't believe that I can call you mine, even after all these years..."

The words were like a knife to Y/n's chest. He let go of her before grabbing his goblet. Y/n held her breath, before realizing that it was probably best if she left before he came to his senses. She whispered to Draco that she needed to go to the bathroom and got up. As she was exiting the Mess Hall, she could feel the tears running down her cheeks.

Don't look back. Don't look back. Don't look back. Her mind begged her. Y/n couldn't help it, she wanted just one last glimpse of the boy she loved before he disappeared forever. She turned and caught Draco's eye. He was in the middle of drinking his pumpkin juice before he noticed the tears rolling down his cheeks. He placed the goblet down quickly, standing up suddenly. Y/n, noticing she had been seen, turned around and began sprinting away from him. She didn't want to hear his teasing or his mean insults when she was so used to hearing his compliments. Her heart was already torn to shreds and she wouldn't be able to handle the reality that the boy she loved was gone.

She didn't know where she was going nor did she care, she just ran away. Eventually, she found herself at the top of the Astronomy Tower. She had ran to the only place that would provide her any source of comfort. She looked around at the familiar walls of the tower, feeling her heart ache as she reminisced about every time that Draco would bring her here. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't notice Draco sneaking up behind her and taking her hand in his, ensuring that she could not run away from him.

Y/n snapped out of her thoughts and she was met with those stupidly beautiful grey eyes again. They were full of worry, love and pain and she felt as though she were drowning in them.

"Y/n, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" Draco asked, worriedly.

Y/n was about to reply before she realized something.

"Wait a moment. Aren't you suppose to be hating me right now?" She asked.

Draco gave her a little smile before replying; "I guess your anti-love potion didn't work."

"You knew?!" Y/n shrieked in surprise.

"That you slipped a potion into my drink because of a dare? Yeah, I knew."

"When??"

"Since the very beginning." He replied calmly. He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. As Y/n squinted, she noticed it was the poem he wrote during their date. He held it out for her to see, hovering his wand over it. He muttered a spell and some of the letters began to cross themselves out while some turned green.

(Y/n), we haven't been together for long,

Yet, I feel obligated to write you a song.

To confess the deep affections I hold for you,

And I hope you feel the same way too.

This may seem quick, yet I know you are the one.

You may scoff at me, but my heart cannot be stolen by just anyone.

My feelings for you have changed so much,

Switched with a simple touch.

This love you have given me is a drug,

Intoxicating, addicting and given by hugs.

I assure you that my love for you is not fake,

No, there has been no mistake.

A goblet of pumpkin juice,

Raised to you in truce.

You return the gesture, as if it was planned,

A cup of (f/d) in your hand.

I love everything about you,

I could not say anything more true.

I love how clever you are or how beautiful you always look,

Merlin, if I could write it all down, I'd write a bloody book.

Know that this is no joke.

Your love envelops me like an invisibility cloak.

We've stitched our love together with needles and red thread,

It's about time we've set aside our differences and learned to accept them instead.

The world has given me such an amazing girlfriend.

I never want our time together to end.

Love is often called weak, useless, something you should not feel.

You have shown me the hidden strength that love has concealed.

Potions class was where our love first began,

If I were to leave it now, I'd be a mad man.

I wrote this poem for you, filled with endless rhyme,

To show that I love you, (Y/n), until the end of time.

Y/n felt like a fool. All this time she had been played with by Draco Malfoy. She wished the floor could swallow her whole so she could escape this embarrassing situation. She hung her head in shame, feeling her cheeks turn red.

"So....all this time...you were just faking it?" She asked, her voice cracking.

Draco lifted her chin so she looked back into his eyes. Instead of them being cold like she had expected, they were warm and full of affection.

"Who said anything about faking?" He said softly.

He pulled her into a hug, letting her cry into his shoulder. "I love you, Y/n. I'm sorry about the past and how nasty I was to you. I've truly changed and I am deeply in love with you."

Y/n sniffled but didn't reply. Her head was spinning as she was still trying to process everything. This whole time, he knew and he was....in love with her?

Draco released her, fumbling through his pockets before he took out another piece of paper. He looked back at her with a smile.

"I have one last thing for you." He said as he straightened out the paper and read what he had written.

Our love began with hatred.

We hated each other right at first sight.

Constantly bickering and starting fights.

Hatred, such a powerful emotion,

Until you spelled me with a love potion.

Our first date was at Hogsmeade,

Where I gave you my coat to keep you warm.

Perhaps, it was then where my hate began to transform.

At the end, I gifted you a (f/c) quill,

Which gave you quite a thrill.

Our second date was at the Astronomy Tower,

I had a surprise waiting for you, excitedly dragging you higher and higher up the stairs.

Quickly going up, with no time to spare.

I had prepared a picnic for us, with a wonderful view.

While you enjoyed the sunset, I couldn't take my eyes off you.

It was there that I had gifted you with a necklace made of silver.

It shined like a sparkling river.

Then, I had to save you from a jealous Parkinson, who bound you in ropes and stole the gift.

Which had the both of us quite miffed.

Our third date consisted of a study date.

You had an upcoming Potions test,

Which gave you quite a lot of stress.

Together, we reviewed everything,

From Unicorn Blood to Billywig Sting.

The next day, you wrote your test and came out with an Outstanding, just as I had proudly claimed.

Your smile that day was something that simply couldn't be contained.

Our fourth date was not exactly a date, nor was it a very fun day.

You had come to watch my Quidditch game, after I had practically begged you over and over again.

Though, that plan went down the drain.

You were pushed off the stands by that jealous twat.

Falling closer and closer to the ground like a graceful acrobat.

Everything stopped, and I didn't care if you hated me.

I saved you and managed to get you to safety.

Our fifth date was at the Black Lake.

I had you brought you there in hopes of simply spending the day with you.

There wasn't anything else I wanted to do.

The date was cut short when Parkinson showed up,

Trying to get us to breakup.

Though, we quickly managed to get our revenge on her.

Watching you, I felt something in me begin to stir.

Our date ended with you falling asleep in my lap.

The sixth date was at Zabini's party.

I had asked you for a dance, which you had accepted,

Which was quite unexpected.

We swayed to the music and danced all night long,

To a romantic love song.

That night was the first time I had ever kissed your lips, something I had secretly wanted to do for a long time.

And I knew then, that I wanted to be with you for a lifetime.

Our seventh date is this one.

The one where I finally revealed to you that I had known all along.

I can't hold it back anymore, it felt wrong.

The one where I finally confess my hidden feelings for you.

Where I hope you feel them too.

What I'm trying to say is that I love you,

This love overwhelms me until I don't know what to do.

Nothing was faked, that I promise.

I swear that I'm being honest.

Everything had been real; my feelings, how much I cared.

Surely, you can remember all those good times we shared.

I hope that everything has been real from you; how you blushed around me,

The smiles you give me that were so lovely,

How you loved my gifts, how you defended me from Potter,

This sounds like a love story written by an unknown author.

I have always claimed that I loved you.

This was always true,

Y/n, what about you?

Now, I must ask you the same question but with more courage than ever,

Will you be my girlfriend, for now and forever?

He finally looked up from his paper to see her shaking with tears still running down her cheeks. He truly loved her and he was asking her out for real, this wasn't a dare anymore. She didn't consider them enemies anymore, she had forgiven him so long ago.

"What do you say, Love?" Draco asked with a hopeful expression.

Screw it. To hell with it all. She had fallen for her enemy and now she could say she was absolutely, madly in love with him. Nothing else mattered as she uttered her answer.

"Yes." Y/n said, feeling all the tension leave her body as Draco came closer to her. He lifted her chin and connected their lips in a passionate kiss. There was so much love shared between the two. When the two broke apart, Draco held her tightly in his arms.

"I love you, Y/n." Draco whispered.

"I love you too, Draco."

**********************************************

And with that, the Love Potion series is finally complete! I didn't realize it but this series took me a year to write. I'm incredibly sorry to have made everyone wait so long for each part. I also want to explain that Love Potion was always meant to be super cheesy and fluffy. It wasn't suppose to be really angsty, it was just going to have some light angst. This is the reason I chose not to write an ending that would leave everyone feeling sad. I know the story is rushed, but the plot was only suppose to be a week. I hope this story didn't feel too rushed. I also may have rushed the ending but I really wanted to get this out, as I had realized that I made everyone wait long enough. Thank you to everyone for reading this series and enjoying it! Thank you for sticking with this story until the very end! Now, I can get on with the requests piling up in my inbox! If you have any requests, feel free to message me or leave it in my inbox. Until next time.

-Jade

#harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #hp preferences #hp imagine #hp #draco malfoy imagine #draco x reader #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco x you #draco fic #draco fanfiction #draco imagine #love potion #amortentia #Draco Malfoy x OC #malfoy x reader #malfoy x you #malfoy #draco fluff #draco malfoy fluff #malfoy fluff #malfoy x oc #malfoy fic #malfoy imagine

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 10: Truth and illusions (Part 5)

Warnings: mentions of abuse and human trafficking, an angry Yosano-sensei

Author notes: we all know angering the lovely doctor is never going to end well for us...

Kitaro-kun did not leave me. Not a second. Wherever I went, he stayed in my shadows. Whatever I did, he followed me, stuck around my ankles like a lost dog. His mother was not yet awake and I had lost traces of his brother. Yosano-sensei was doing her best to contact the Armed Detective Agency and ask for help. We would need more brains to find Sakunosuke-kun. I had refused to contact the father, upset against the entire family for locking up a poor boy in a room and depriving him of his twin brother. The Taikin family reminded me too much of my own, and that man liked my mother too much to my liking. Against my breast, the picture seemed to burn painfully, but I ignored it. I had other matters I had to take care of to worry about a dead woman.

"I still don't understand why he was treated so badly…" The doctor told me when I came back to the living room after searching the office.

"You don't need a reason to torture a powerless child…" I grumbled, patting the boy's hair "Anyway… I didn't find a single evidence in that man's office. Did you learn anything when you talked to his wife?"

"Not much. She is unhappy, but she cannot leave. Where would she go? Apparently, she owes him her life, which is why she agreed to marry him."

"He didn't love her, though… But he needed a wife and a family. That's so common among these people, I want to throw up…" I said, bitterly.

"There isn't a thing we can do, Ogawa. For now, we must find the kid."

"Right…"

"Kasumi-san…" Kotaro-kun tugged on my sleeve "I'm cold…"

"I'll find you a blanket." I told him.

I asked a maid if she could bring us a blanket for the small boy, but she refused, stating that she did not know of a second young master. Before I could punch her, Yosano-sensei, the only one able to calm me down at the moment, said that it was for Yumiko-san. She could not decline anymore.

In the meantime, the woman had woken up. Her right arm was oddly dangling against her body, but she did not seem to mind. Her eyes looked empty as she placed them on me, before suddenly regaining their life. A cry escaped her throat and she began to sob, calling for her lost son. I was unable to contain myself and, as time, Yosano-sensei did not stop me.

"Are you kidding me…?!"

I grabbed her collar and showed her the boy.

"How dare you pretend to care for Sakunosuke-kun when you have another son you never even looked at…?!"

She stayed speechless, agape, as though she wanted to say something… But no sound came out.

"Who are you…?" She finally breathed out "You look like him… But I can see you are not him…"

"He's your son, Kitaro-kun…!!" I yelled at her "What the hell are you saying?!"

I was upset but, inside, I knew she was not lying when she said she did not know him. Thoughts did not lie and could not deceive me. Kitaro-kun held onto my coat, hidden behind me, afraid to show himself, and I understood him all too well. He loved a mother who did not even know of his existence. The woman's face was full of tears as she opened her valid arms and invited the boy for a hug. He did not refuse and pressed himself against her, shoulders shaking as he called his dear mother. My chest burnt again, but I did not pay attention to it. In the end, Kitaro-kun was different from me…

When the both of them finally calmed down, I decided to ask Yumiko-san a few questions.

"The thing is…" She sighed, caressing her son's hair "I am not human…"

It was fortunate that Kitaro-kun had fallen asleep, exhausted by his tears. It was impossible that the person talking to me was anything else but human… But I let her continue.

"Daichi-san, my husband, found me on the verge of death… I originally was a slave. I had been sold by my family for the sake of money… But as I tried to run away, I fell from a rather high balcony and broke my spine, making me lose the use of my four limbs. I was damaged goods and my value dropped so much that I was left to rot, unable to move, in the streets. I was then found…" She told us.

"You were human, back then." Yosano-sensei noted.

"Not anymore… My body was so worthless that I had to go through surgery. I fell asleep and then… Nothing. When I woke up, I could move. I had been given a brand new body, entirely artificial. Only my soul was transferred." She explained "Which is why I do not bleed, you see…"

"How were you able to have kids…?" I frowned, absolutely unconvinced.

"It's complicated… I wasn't pregnant, of course… Instead, we adopted the lovely Sakunosuke-kun… I didn't know he had a twin brother…" She murmured "Although they do not come from me, I love them so dearly… Why would Daichi-san hide Kitaro-kun from me, though…?"

"I'm not sure… We'll have to investigate…"

I took Yosano-sensei apart.

"I don't believe her at all, but she doesn't lie." I said.

"Could you read her thoughts?"

"That's precisely why there is an issue. Had she been a robot, never would I have access to them.." I crossed my arms.

"But her soul remains…"

"Don't tell me you trust something so stupid…?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Of course not!" She scoffed "She seems so naive, it's almost normal she had been deceived…"

"I saw something, once…" I remembered "In my former workplace, when we wanted to… Silence people, we did not necessarily need to kill them. Instead, we would ask for… A mentalist… Is that the correct name…?"

"A mentalist… For his hypnosis skills…?" Her eyes widened "Indeed…! That's exactly how she could believe her story…! She said herself that she didn't remember anything when she fell asleep, before her surgery."

"Mmh." I agreed "Besides, had Taikin-san created something as complex as an android with human soul, he never would have kept it a secret."

"So, we now have new hints; the hidden twin and the mentalist." She summed up "Which doesn't really help us to find Sakunosuke-kun…"

"But it does help us understand Taikin-san. If we dig in his past, maybe we can find more about his enemies." I suggested "Moreover… He knew Ogawa Eirin and seemed to have an affair with her…"

"Even so, her husband cannot take revenge anymore, nor can she. And their daughter surely doesn't care about that." Yosano-sensei noted.

"No, indeed…" I showed her the picture I had found "How weird is it, keeping that in a frame, behind the image of your wife and son?"

"Surely he had his reasons…" She muttered "Let's keep investigating."

"You're right, this has nothing to do with me, anyway…" I sighed.

"Why do you keep that photography, then?"

"No reason…! You can have it if you want…!" I protested and threw it away.

"Often, the truth cannot be seen without love…" She picked it up and replaced it in my inner pocket "Until you find inner peace within yourself, I won't allow you to separate from it."

"You're horrible… I don't need the memento of that woman… I've been in peace ever since they died…" I groaned.

"So you say. Yumiko-san may be under hypnosis, but you are worse than her; you purposely blinded yourself about your past, not to admit you committed a mistake. I don't know what you did, but at least be honest with yourself." She did not sound gentle anymore "When you'll admit that you were loved by your mother, I'll talk to you again. For now, Kunikida will replace me."

I did not know what could be worse for me; Yosano-sensei being angry against me or having Kunikida as a partner for the case.

#bsd #bsd oc #bsd fanfic #bsd dazai #bsd imagines #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs oc #dazai osamu #bsd yosano #yosano akiko

[donotstopthisdebatenow]

V3 Prologue Replay 0.2- Meet the Cast Take I

Ruh roh, Raggy, it’s an actual flashback time

First of all, that’s terrifying.

Second of all, it honestly isn’t that farfetched to happen in current day world too. This might be more because where I live, but it is more or less common sense here to not expect help if something like that happened to you, especially if you live in a bigger city where neighbours don’t even know each other.

I’ve seen this being one of the scenes used for the “it is all very dystopian” but honestly, not that much more than our current day, but ymmv.

Also worth noting is that V3 in general has a theme of “people growing apathetic towards each others’ plight” that also crops up with entire “actors being treated as their characters and subhuman, like they are commodities than living human beings” theme later in the game too.

I was going to joke about “No clearly it was two different groups who rented same place to put their kidnapping victims in, what do you think hat boy?” or something but honestly, he still looks sort of guarded on a closer look.

Maybe it is just the eyebrow and in general the expression with how he words it too, especially in Japanese but it feels like it takes until next bit for him to feel more like they genuinely are in the same situation.

Million dollar question

This part is interesting in terms of another piece of characterization of their world because

1-) They can think of someone kidnapping you for having a rich family is a plausible scenario

2-) They don’t have any specific group that pops to mind, nor do they seem to have anything with them for self defense which points more to random kidnappings like that being not that common at least in the areas they live at.

Again, another piece of worldbuilding for what lies outside and pointing again towards painting a world not that fundamentally different than ours, at least economically from what we’ve seen so far.

Yeah, see, about that... I don’t think you will like the answer, Shuichi.

Another piece of “their world in general don’t sound so much more high-tech” is this when you check the blackboard

You would expect that things like this would be more common place, if the common people have access to memory writing devices.

But that’s kind of the thing with DR games in usual- even in Hope’s Peak saga, it was always a smaller group that had access to such tech while most of the population lived honestly with same amount of tech we had, given how things like Monokuma, memory wiping devices, NWP all were developed by people in Hope’s Peak with the funding and resources.

Part of how Junko got Reserve Course students get violent and smashy was by uncovering what they were funding with their money behind their backs to their own gain/use.

With also their suprise at moving plushies later on (well, Kaito’s at least, but we will get to that) added to this, I think it is safe to assume that DR is once again setting up a world mirroring ours for at least in terms of available tech.

Okay good, now we made up too

That’s safe to say at this point at least

They were really terrified... I know I’m stating the obvious here, but I don’t see many people really focusing on how scared they all were in the prologue given that common take of prologue is that they joined willingly.

And after Kaede questioning who kidnapped them and why again...

No time to lose thinking over things they can’t know...

That is a good idea, except...

I’m so glad you are the first Monokub to die. And I hate the fact that I do know all of your names at this point.

And after being throughly freaked out by the “monsters” they have no idea what they are...

We get to the real meaty section of prologue.

Hey Angie. Weird to see you look genuinely worried/scared tbh

Hey Kaito, still using the same speech pattern and テメー while referring to people I see

Good question, Ryoma. And still using 俺 for yourself

And we have Kokichi jumping in with “want me to check” like he does later when we use the dragon statue huh. Interesting that he is willing to risk checking it out himself, then again no one keeping an eye on if the monsters are around is more risky after all...

Also same speech pattern, with オレ for himself.

And Tenko with her classic “ダメですよ！“ and in general using a lot of polite desu forms, as well as being worried about danger and telling someone to stay back for safety...

And Kiyo with his katakana “yo/ヨ“ at the end of the sentence to signify that he speaks with an odd tonation, something he has in game as well.

And our mystery guy finally steps in with his “casually polite sorta masculine” “-ssu/っす“ and starts to talk about having some idea what’s going on here.

To Kaede’s confusion, of course.  Why would the number matter?

Also interesting that Rantaro himself is identifying himself as a highschooler here. Tsumugi might be left more up to debate, but also with given the title of this picture is “15 friends” in the gallery, I’m inclined to believe that they were all high schoolers with maybe sans Mugi, after all...

And Kaede is still confused as she internally repeats “16...High schoolers...?” you would think that a “fan” or someone applying for this show would have caught up by now.

Speaking of which, why even kidnap a guy who has participated in the show before, and allegedly (if Shuichi was correct in his assumption last trial, which is left in air too) participated in the last season with selecting to “sacrifice” himself for others? Shouldn’t he have some sort of contract or something binding him, if he was a part of the show/if this “TDR” was the real company running the show?

Similarly, Kiibo being there with looking worried/on guard look at the corner is weird too. You would think they would have him separately to alter his coding/add the modifications to his robo-body if he had auditioned.

One reason I see being brought up is “So us players don’t get spoiled”, but especially with Kaede’s reaction to this next section, and Shuichi’s lack of reaction to it, I personally find that unconvincing, but I will have to get more into it next post.

Next episode: Meet the Avocado~

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #drv3 meta #drv3 translation #drv3 commentary #v3 spoilers #drv3 spoilers #prologue #I really wanted to fit parts with Rantaro but #guess we will need to wait a bit longer #pretty sure we will be done with this section next part though so #yay?

[norhimorovine]

Saffron for Mistletoe

Norhi was in the yard next to the shop today. She had a hammer, a big tin of nails, and a stack of cut wood on her left. And on her right, was a stack of crates that she’d just put together. In front of her, Dischaus and Lhissa stood with their own small hammers and tins of nails.

Norhi carefully laid out three pieces of the wood side by side and then another piece across them on one end. As she began to nail them into place, she instructed her siblings, “Now, arrange them across the sawhorses like this. And we hammer two nails through each, so that there’s six nails, all the way down the cross piece. Once they’re all the way through, we take one more cross piece and do the other end. Then, we flip it over like this, and clinch the nails. Like so.”

Dis scrunched his nose, watching Norhi hammer the ends of the nails so they bent over flat against the wood. “Why do we bother with that? Why don’t we just leave them? Or buy shorter nails?”

Norhi chuckled. “Shorter nails are usually too thin to hold this wood together solidly. And to get this thickness in the right length, I’d have to custom order them from the blacksmith. Which gets expensive, for the number of crates we go through. And if we left them, someone might scrape their hand reaching in for a bottle. Or one of the nails might scratch and damage the product.”

Lhissa tilted her head. “The blacksmiths don’t make nails for crates normally?”

Norhi shrugged. “Oh, I imagine there’s a blacksmith out there that does. But… they don’t live near the Hawthorne Hut. And I do try to buy from our local blacksmith instead of traveling out of my way just for nails that I only need for crates. Especially since we also use these nails for repairing the cart, or for shelves for the shop, fences for the groves, and so on. Easier to buy bulk from a blacksmith that knows me. And… kinder to the Wood as well.”

Dis and Lhis exchanged confused looks. “How does buying nails from a local blacksmith be kind to the Wood?” “I thought the Forest didn’t like metal.” “And we’re using it to hammer wood from the Forest!”

Norhi laughed and set aside the finished panel, before starting another. “Well… That’s a story.”

“Story!! Tell us!”

Now, in a little village, deep in the farther reaches of the Twelveswood, there was a merchant. He was a well to do man, with a nice shop. People from the village depended on him. And they respected him. After all, he was the one who secured furs and meats from local hunters, and items from traveling traders that could not be made in their own homes.

Life seemed perfect and content. Their village knew peace. The shop was successful. And the only complaints were the local boys getting into mischief.

Now, the summer festival was upon them. The merchant set up his shop, opening the great window and setting out the crates of goods. His wife hung garlands of flowers from the eaves, and a wreath on the shop door. The other businesses around them - the blacksmith, the tavern, the baker - were all doing the same. And traveling traders came in from the roads, setting up their little carts of wares, also decorated for the festivities. The feast was set up, the dance floor was filled, the conjurer was giving out blessings and purification masks. All in all, it was going to be a grand year.

As the day began to draw to a close, the merchant and his wife began to slowly pack back up. But before they could finish, a foreign man in bright silks and gold jewelry, came up to the open window. “My good sir! I would like to trade with you!”

The merchant was rarely one to refuse the idea of business. So he turned back to the window and smiled, “Of course! What can I help you with?”

The foreigner gave the man a cat-like grin and pulled a strange pouch from his voluminous coat. “I have here a spice from the far east, which we call saffron. It is most rare and hard to produce, requiring the careful, skilled hands of artisans with a lifetime of work. These fine yellow threads will add a wonderful fragrance and flavor to any savory dish! They are sought after by the richest gourmands of the great cities!”

The merchant seemed unsure, as he answered, “That sounds like an invaluable item indeed. Why bring it to me? We are humble people here.”

The foreigner’s grin spread a little more. “Oh why? Because, my good sir, what a better way to liven up a humble life, than with a few exotic treasures and treats? No doubt your village headsman’s wife would give great gil to have this delicacy in her kitchen.”

The merchant rubbed at his chin, thinking that it would be nice if the headsman’s wife was a little more generous in her next shopping trip. He then narrowed his eyes at the foreigner. “And how much would this little bag of spice cost me? What good does it bring to reach for exotic treasures we can’t afford?”

The foreigner held aloft a finger, as if revealing a secret. “Ah, but for you, my good sir, it is not so expensive. For you see, these very piles of walnuts you have in this crate, are not so common back east. To us, they are the exotic treasure!”

The merchant shrugged. “But they are not so hard to gather, nor require a lifetime of experience. My own son gathered these from the forest yesterday.”

The foreigner nodded. “True, true. But also, you have these little plants here, this… mistletoe. It is quite useful for alchemists. And this variety does not grow in the east. No doubt this is a little harder to gather.”

The merchant mused on this for a moment. “That is true. So, how much of my mistletoe and my walnuts, do you want for that one bag?”

The foreigner grinned, “For all of your mistletoe and all of your walnuts, I will give you half of my saffron.”

The merchant shook his head. “I have people here who will want some of these still. I will give you two-thirds, for half of your saffron.”

The foreigner seemed unconvinced, almost putting the little pouch away again. “Then, all of your mistletoe, and half of your walnuts. For half of my saffron.”

The merchant snorted. “No no. The conjurer’s wife will come for some of that mistletoe tomorrow morning. She always does. No. Four-fifths of the mistletoe, two-thirds of the walnuts, for two-thirds of your saffron.”

The foreigner seemed to waver before finally smiling. He reached out and shook the merchant’s hand. “A deal we have! I will go bring your saffron.”

The merchant grinned. “And I will bag up your walnuts and mistletoe.”

Soon, the exchange was done. And that night, the foreigner left.

The next morning, the conjurer’s wife came to the shop. The conjurer’s wife was sad to see that there was so little mistletoe left. The merchant apologized and said they would have more soon. The conjurer’s wife nodded and bought what was there, making her way out with a sigh. The merchant felt some guilt at this. He did not like that he had disappointed her.

But this worry soon fled, as the headsman’s wife came in the door. The merchant happily showed her the saffron, telling her of the qualities the foreign man had espoused the night before. Being the vain woman she was, she happily bought a hefty sum of the saffron.

The days following, more villagers came to buy the saffron, after sampling the headsman’s wife’s cooking with it. It soon ran out. And they were sad for its loss. But life went back to normal.

A moon later, the foreign man returned. He gave the merchant a sly grin. “The saffron brought you riches, I see.”

And the merchant, who had profited well enough to afford a new waistcoat, nodded. “I suppose you can say that I did. What other exotic treasures do you have?”

The foreigner grinned his catlike smile and opened his cart.

The next day, the merchant hawked his new fabulous wares. And the villagers loved it. Though, no few of them were disappointed to find that there were no walnuts or mistletoe at all. And that there wasn’t as much of the potting clay or alumen, as usual.

The merchant grew richer off of his new wares. Though, he found that when he went to buy potions from the conjurer’s wife, that they were almost gone. It seemed she did not have enough materials for what she needed. And when he got home, his wife complained that the local potter couldn’t make her a new jug, since he’d just run out of clay. He consoled his wife, saying he’d go to the next village to buy what they needed.

Several moons passed this way. The foreign man would show up and trade his exotic goods for things that the village rather needed. And when the villagers came the next day, there was so little left for them of their usual goods, that they began to complain. And when they weren’t complaining of that, they were arguing over the exotic wares, competing to get to them before they ran out too. What’s more, the merchant had begun to make regular trips to the next village, to buy the things the village was no longer making, for his own household. The trips were becoming costly. And the neighboring village was growing suspicious.

Finally, the foreign man returned again. The merchant shook his head. “I cannot. No longer. My village needs these things you ask for. The exotic treasures you bring, they are wonderful. But they bring strife too. Our potion-maker no longer has potions, because you bought all the plants she needed. Our potter has no jugs, because you bought all the clay. And the village bickers over the things you trade to us. They’re wonderful. But they’re also a curse. I’m sorry, but no longer.”

The foreigner frowned sadly. “Are you certain? Perhaps if I sent you word in advance. Tell you what things I wish to trade for? You can stock up enough for the village and for me?”

At this point, the village headsman and the conjurer, followed by several more of the village, stepped forward. The conjurer bowed low, as he spoke, “Dear sir, you have brought an expensive lesson to our lives. But we cannot do as you ask. We cannot over-harvest in this forest, lest we anger the elementals.”

The headsman nodded in agreement. “We have our ways here. And while we do not mind a little variety now and again, we are too small a village for the expenses you bring us. Please return with the next festival, but no other time.”

The foreign man mused on this for a long moment and then nodded. He reached into his cart and pulled out a bag of tea leaves. “I understand. It brings me grief to know that I have caused such turmoil for your lovely village. As an apology, here are the rarest tea leaves I could bring from the east. Brew them and offer them to your elementals for my wrongs. When I return with the next festival, I will bring treasures that will befit a festival, instead of thinking of my own pockets.”

The conjurer accepted the bag of tea leaves. “Be safe on the road, kind sir.”

The merchant shook hands with the foreign man once more, before turning back to his shop. But as he turned, he spotted a glimmer in the trees, just out of the village’s edge. He thought for a moment that it was some large bird, except that it glowed with radiant magic. The creature vanished in a wink, leaving the merchant staring in shock. He turned back to the conjurer and said, “I will help you offer the tea to the elementals. It was my decision to accept the trade, that started this whole affair.”

The conjurer smiled knowingly and nodded. “Of course. Let us go do that.”

And after that, the merchant never saw the glowing creature again, the foreign man only came at the festival time, and the village once again knew piece.

Norhi picked her hammer back up, as she finished the story. “So… I buy nails from our local blacksmith, because it’s good for people to support their neighbor’s businesses.”

Dis scrunches his nose. “But you travel all over to sell Zuzu’s potions.”

Norhi nodded. “True. But I also buy things in all those places, after selling our wares. So… some of that money is going right back into the markets. And… I tend to stick to big cities. Their markets are built for foreign trade, unlike small villages. And… I imagine that the story probably could’ve ended differently, if someone who understood trade and markets, was there to create a better solution. As it stands, that story teaches us to be thoughtful of our clients and our vendors.”

Lhis grinned. “So, big nails for everything!”

Norhi wilted. “That… I just… Lhis, no.”

#FFxivWrite2020 #FFxivWrite #Miqo'te Tales

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Katara's still reeling after learning about bloodbending. Aang tries to help. 

~~~

This one's gonna have discussion of how bending can kill people and allusions to death and stuff, just fyi.

Enjoy!

~~~

“Teach me how to heal?”

Katara blinked a few times and looked up at him. It took her a few seconds to focus on his face. “What?”

“Teach me how to heal,” Aang said again, and then he added, “please.”

She blinked again. “Why?”

Because you cried for hours last night. Because you kept apologizing to Yue. Because your hopes were completely shattered. Because I know how badly you wanted to learn Southern-style waterbending. Because one of your greatest heroes turned out to be the worst kind of villain. Because you’ve been staring at a field of fire lilies all afternoon. “You taught me how to fight...for obvious reasons. But...I know I’d prefer healing over fighting. And...I think we both could use it.”

Katara graced him with a weak smile. “Okay,” she said, straightening up. She already looked better at the prospect of a goal - a mission, something to make the world a better place. “Give me your arm.”

Sokka and Toph left them to it and stuck to the other side of their campsite, Sokka drawing out diagrams for sky bison armor while rattling off ideas, and Toph practicing her metalbending and telling Sokka that, as much as her skills were progressing, she would not be able to created mounted arrow-launchers, nor would they be able to train Momo to use them in time.

Katara spent the better part of an hour tracing her finger up and down her and Aang’s bodies, talking about the twelve standard meridians and chi flow and applying waterbending as a conduit. Aang soaked the information up like a sponge, watched Katara sink her focus into healing, and all the ways you could fix a person.

But eventually her words trailed off halfway through an explanation of how waterbending could keep a person’s heart beating, and she stared at her fingers hovering over Aang’s chest. “It’s...not so different, is it?” she whispered.

Aang took her hand in his. “It’s very different, Katara.”

She shook her head. “I just...can’t believe someone would use waterbending for something so evil.”

“I know,” Aang said gently. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s - we’re supposed to be better than the Fire Nation. Waterbending isn’t evil, it’s good.”

“No bending is good or evil,” Aang said. “It just...is.”

“I’ve never seen firebending used for good,” Katara said dryly.

“Kuzon used to make shapes with it,” Aang shrugged. “People, animals. They’d dance around the campfire. It was cute.”

She looked unconvinced.

“Anyone who knows enough about the human body to heal it is also going to know how to hurt it,” Aang said. “Bending is just an ability, it doesn’t have morals. What’s good and evil is people’s choices on how to use it.”

Katara sighed. “I guess I’m just...so used to the idea of fire being the element that causes pain,” she said. “I never thought water…”

Aang hesitated - but she looked so lost, and she’d cried so much last night, and he cared about her so much. He glanced towards Sokka and Toph, saw they were still engrossed in their own conversation, hopefully far enough away that Toph’s hearing wouldn’t pick anything up. He leaned closer to Katara and said, very quietly but all in a rush, “Airbending can be used to suck the breath right out of someone’s lungs.”

It took a moment for it to sink in, but when it did she stared at him, horrified. “...What?”

Aang hunched his shoulders a bit. “Yeah.”

“You can - ”

“I can’t,” he said immediately. “That’s - it’s forbidden, and even if it wasn’t I wouldn’t want to know how! But it’s...definitely possible. There were old stories. Legends.”

She took another moment to process it. “That’s... awful, Aang.”

“Yeah,” he said, and with a rueful grin added, “there’s reasons why we’re pacifists.” If you listen hard enough you can hear every living thing breathing together, Hue had said, back under the banyan-grove tree. The old Swampbender had no idea how true that had been for Air Nomads.

“I’d never heard that about Airbenders,” Katara said.

“It’s not like it was common knowledge,” Aang shrugged. “We didn’t even talk about it amongst ourselves much. I don’t think anyone even actually knew how to do it, just that it was possible.” Maybe a skilled master could have figured it out on their own, but none of them would ever have attempted it. And now there was definitely no one who knew how to do it - maybe no one who even knew it was possible, if Katara’s reaction was anything to go by.

If Aang never said anything about it, maybe no one would ever know again.

Aang had been grieving the loss of his people and the destruction of his culture for months, but if the knowledge of the asphyxiation technique disappeared, it would be one loss he wouldn’t mourn.

“Even knowing it’s possible is scary,” said Katara, who’d bloodbended a whole human fifteen minutes after learning the technique was possible.

“But we didn’t, Katara. We could, but we didn’t. It’s not the power that’s evil, it’s the choices you make in how to use it.”

Katara mulled it over. Eventually, she nodded, and they spent a long, silent moment gazing out over the field of fire lilies. The flowers were just as red and beautiful as they’d been in another field, several islands behind them now. Katara held a hand over the nearest flower, slowly moving her wrist and her fingers, and the lily’s petals opened and closed a few times, it’s leaves shifting in slow wavy motions.

It didn’t whither or dehydrate under her hand, but when she released it, the lily suddenly fell limp to the ground, unable to stand upright anymore, leaves and petals haphazardly splayed. Katara blinked. “I...must have hurt it somehow,” she realized, frowning. “Maybe I burst something inside.”

“It’s okay,” Aang said quickly. “It’s not like you bend plants much.”

“...Yeah,” Katara said after a moment. “You’re right, I don’t.”

At least it wasn’t a person, Aang didn’t say, because now was not the time to bring that up.

“They’re just flowers,” Katara said quietly. Sadly. She stared out at the fire lilies again. The field looked like a massive army of little red soldiers.

They were quiet again, for a little while. On the other side of the camp, Toph was telling Sokka that two horns was enough for Appa and they didn’t need to give him any more on his helmet no matter how cool he claimed it would look. It would not look cool, it would look stupid. She didn’t know much about looks but she knew for a fact she would be able to feel the stupid.

Finally, Katara sighed. “She didn’t even teach me any actual Southern-style waterbending.”

Aang wrapped an arm around her shoulders and thought of the way the nuns raised at the Western Air Temple had been able to walk around on the ceiling, perfectly upside-down with the rest of their home, how they’d laugh at anyone who attempted to mimic them, and how jealously they’d guarded that unique art. “I’m sorry, Katara.”

~~~

Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are appreciated.

Meridians are the paths chi flows through in the body, according to traditional Chinese medicine. I think when Katara attends that healing lesson, the dummy Yugoda is demonstrating on has the meridians carved into it. Also why did no one ever teach Aang healing I think he would've loved it and also I think healing deserves a bit more in-depth exploration as an art. The fantasy genre tends to just treat healing as another thing in the characters' bag of tricks and I'm getting tired of it.

Also I've spent all these years wondering "how did Sokka manage to make armor for Appa they didn't have a forge and we just see him working on it like once but it didn't make sense" and while I was writing this I was like "oh wait Toph can metalbend, duh."

It seriously kills me that Hama doesn't seem to have actually taught Katara any actual Southern Water Tribe techniques. Everything they talked about had to do with Hama learning to survive in the Fire Nation and pulling water from unconventional sources. No moves, techniques, or philosophies. So sad.

Also I kinda headcanon that Hama died very shortly after her arrest of either an aneurysm or a heart attack or something. It was Katara's first time bloodbending and she was under a lot of stress. :( I also don't think that the Gaang is aware of this - I think they high-tailed it out of Hama's village immediately. A bunch of disappeared villagers return home in the middle of the night with the old innkeeper in chains saying she's a witch who controlled them somehow and these strange kids saved them? That would probably launch an investigation, or at the very least a lot of questions, and no one knows Hama and Katara are Waterbenders. Bad enough some of the prisoners probably saw Toph bending her space rock into a key. The Gaang wasn't gonna wait around for someone to poke around the inn and find a flying bison.

Regarding asphyxiation, unfortunately for Aang, there actually is surviving literature regarding that old Airbender tale - a few mentions in anthropological texts, a few recorded bits of folklore, and some Sozin-era anti-Air Nomad propaganda. Fortunately, these records are really only known in academic circles, and even there it's pretty obscure knowledge. So just as long as no well-read martial arts experts with a deep appreciation/obsession over Air Nomad culture suddenly obtain airbending abilities, the knowledge of asphyixiation techniques is safely unusable! :D *cough*gdiZaheer*coughcough*

#kataang week #atla fanfic #avatar fanfiction #aang #katara #caelum writes

[aqvarius]

What are your top 5 worst voltage routes?

oh damn this is a tough one haha. i’ve definitely played routes that i find average/forgettable but it’s hard to think of 5 routes that i thought were actually bad. except for one which i’m sure anyone who has followed me for a few years knows about lmao

i was just gonna give brief reasons but then as i was typing this out i couldn’t stop my loudass brain from rambling so... sorry for all the commentary lol. i do want to preface this by saying that these are more critiques of the writing than the characters (except shinobu haha i despise him). i love many of these characters and have enjoyed their epilogues/sequels/substories. my main gripe with most of these is just underdeveloped, jarring or flimsy character and relationship development, which to me makes the process of falling in mutual love unconvincing. that’s why all of these are main stories because they are about the critical moments of falling in love (rather than future developments such as tackling conflicts together) which i think are the foundation to any further growth. so please don’t take any of this personally if any of the guys i’ve mentioned here are characters that you love!

5. main story: takane momochi - destind: mr almost right

so this is more a case of “love the guy, don’t love the route”. i have to admit that i really wasn’t big on takane at first and then i got to the end of the route and realised that i actually didn’t love the mc. i actually quite like the destind mc in rei and araya’s routes but omg takane’s route is weird. i have no problem with takane kind of being a jerk and i actually really like him but i have a couple of issues with this route. the first is that i don’t really understand nor buy into the reason that they keep seeing each other. the mc learns about takane’s true nature and finds him kind of despicable but then decides that she’s definitely gonna make him fall in love with her, which as a plot point on its own i’m fine with but the way thy go into that discussion is really weird because it arises from the mc being appalled that takane had an affair with some teacher when he was a teenager and somehow leads into that discussion. basically i don’t think that the whole “i’m gonna make you fall in love with me” vs “i’m gonna make you sleep with me” challenge is set up particularly organically. 

it also occurs about halfway through the route which i don’t really think works in term of the pacing because within the shape of the narrative i would call it the end of act 1. act 2 would be them genuinely getting closer and then act 3 would be the conflict that develops between them which results in their breakup. with the structure of takane’s route, acts 2 and 3 essentially become crammed into the remaining half of the chapters, which makes the conflict in act 3 feel confusing and abrupt. i think it would have been more effective if they had set up the personality reveal earlier on in the route and then spent more time developing the budding incompatibilities which lead to the breakup-inducing argument.

the second issue that i have with this route is the mc’s lack of development/not addressing the actual mistakes that she makes with regards to how she sees takane. the mc suffers from idolising syndrome because she’s built takane up into this perfect prince in her mind (i guess kind of like with hiroki from mlfk) even though he’s a regular old (substantially) flawed dude who struggles with the pressure of external expectations bc people don’t see the ~real him~. this is all well and good and is set up to allow the mc to accept his flaws and see him as a real human being but instead she’s just like “your flaws aren’t really flaws, they’re just another example of why you’re perfect bc you engage with them!” SIS. he’s not a character that needs validation in that way bc everyone already thinks he’s perfect. he needs someone who can see that he’s FAULTY and help him through it, not just pass off his flaws and the way he deals with them as another point of admiration. destind mc isn’t even like old school perma-optimistic voltage mcs either, she’s a little more prone to judgement so i wish she (and the writing) engaged a little more with takane’s flaws and accepting them rather than just jumping straight to YOU’RE MY HERO. 

as a character i actually prefer him to araya but the fact that i was more convinced to love araya aka mr possessive liar himself is saying something about the story. 

4. main story: genji higashiyama - in your arms tonight

i don’t have much to say in detail because it’s been like 6+ years since i played his route and frankly i don’t remember the details, but i just remember that he was kind of a jackass and i expected better. i love ex-boyfriend/hatsukoi love interests but just didn’t really like his route. 

to quote from an old comment i once made: 

“omg i thought genji had so much potential bc hot exboyf soccer player hellooooo but he was just such a jerk, he really p-ed me off :<” 

“i kind of don’t like genji because he is a bit of a doucheypants and like really arrogant and a bit of a bully :/”

i remember the mc slapped him once after they made out which i don’t remember the context for but he probably deserved it. i was extra sad because i actually really liked him in soji’s route but he’s the team B guy in that one so......... thanks voltage. also he was a dick to everyone’s sweetheart aiba. i actually like him way more after his ms lol? conceptually i love him but his main story made me sad. 

3. main story: satoru kamagiri - 10 days with my devil

i mean this one was bad but i’m weirdly fond of satoru? i have no issues with sadists and i kind of like him (after having read substories). but this route was weird and the pacing felt a bit off to me. basically i have no idea what made him fall in love with the mc?

because i guess he starts being nice to you when he has to nurse you when you get sick and he genuinely feels bad and cares about you but do you really expect me to believe he was already in love with you when he made a date with you but decided to go hang out with other women leaving you standing in the rain for 6 hours? nah fam.

i also don’t remember what the climax of the story even is because i’m still hung up on being left waiting for him in the rain for 6 hours while he goes other women so  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

2. main story: seiji goto - my sweet bodyguard

i’ve talked a lot about the issues i have with this route (including a couple thousand words of review here) but i’ll just summarise. this is definitely another case of love the guy, don’t love the route. in the GREE version, you meet him from the first time at the beginning of his route and gradually learn about his past, but in the standalone app version, you basically get thrown into the route with no exposition, meaning that you have to already have prior knowledge of goto and his backstory. i had known about it so it wasn’t as confusing as it could have been, but you really just get tossed into the mix expecting to already know about kazuki (goto’s dead ex). plus he’s already nice to you from the start because you’ve known each other for a while so there’s less of the actual seeing his behaviour change bit (which is my favourite part of all main stories - in case you couldn’t tell because all of my criticisms about routes are about lack of proper relationship development). kazuki and goto’s relationship is basically the thing that underpins the entire narrative of the route which is why i find it an issue that you don’t get much insight into it going into the route blind. 

it’s difficult to feel like goto and the mc are actually gradually getting closer in the route because it doesn’t feel like there’s one narrative line that’s building throughout the entire route as much as separate events, more or less. she just... looks after goto a lot? also basically goto is interested in you because you remind him of kazuki and when he starts to like you, it’s not actually very evident in his actions - you find this out because kurosawa basically tells you lmao. 

i actually wanted to leave him and date subaru because honestly subaru in goto’s route especially reads like a much healthier relationship option, but then goto runs in and interrupts a date with subaru and drags you straight off to kazuki’s tombstone and then... it’s a happy ending? his confession feels like it comes out of nowhere because his behaviour towards you doesn’t explicitly change but you just have to believe he likes you now as he confesses in front of his ex-gf’s grave and tells her he’ll see her soon. come on bruv you can do better than this lol. 

1. main story: shinobu narita - serendipity next door

this guy fucking sucks, dude. i can’t think of even one single redeeming quality he has. he’s the reason i stopped playing voltage games for like years and went on hiatus and more or less abandoned my blog until i discovered scm. i know there was a lot of controversy about whether or not he could be considered abusive and i threw that word around a lot back in the day when i liveblogged his route but DAMN at the very least he is just the WORST. the mc wakes up in his bed after getting wasted at a rooftop party and he convinces her that they had sex when she was drunk and then blackmails her into being his girlfriend by threatening to tell the entire apartment block that they slept together. he proceeds to snoop around in all her business, maliciously making fun of her and her work at every single chance he gets (he literally RIFLES THROUGH HER BAG to find her work and mock her about it) and then she looks at one document or picture of his and he gets all uppity about it because he’s a big ol hypocrite. basically he hates the mc because she’s so pure and he’s jaded because one time he confessed to someone and she ghosted him? so he deliberately acts nice to her sometimes so she’ll let her guard down and then follows it up with a common or action so malicious i wanted to choke him. all i’m saying is that there are a number of relationships that i never got closure on and it’s never made me want to blackmail a drunk person into dating me so i can mess them up emotionally  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

the thing is, i have played other guys who are a bag of suck at first and then get so much better because of character development. and this is what is totally lacking in shinobu’s route. the mc falls in love with him bc of stockholm syndrome... and basically bc omg he’s so sad and damaged and she wants to heal him i guess? it sucks. they literally have no bonding moments where they genuinely connect except for the times when he’s super mean and manipulative to her and and she’s like omg but he’s so saaaaaad uwu. throughout the route, there is absolutely no character development on shinobu’s part, he’s just the same sadistic bastard who enjoys seeing his mc being hurt the whole way through lol but SUDDENLY you guys are in love? but literally at the end the mc tries to escape from him by moving out and instead of letting her go because he’s the worst, he chases her moving truck down? also he’s weirdly possessive even by voltage standards. 

btw this isn’t even just sadists not being my type - you know i adore kaga and eduardo and even people who take ages to warm up (cough shinonome). and you know i love men who tease and manipulate you a bit (because they’re doing it out of a d o r a t i o n not spite) . i also have no problem with outright assholes as long as we see them change, develop and genuinely fall in love. my biggest issue with this route is that i don’t think pity is the same thing as love, or that someone with his personality can get his happy ending without genuinely changing and redeeming himself in some way. i’m not a fan of romanticising guys who are mean to you because they’re so dAmAgEd and want to take it out on you. (the reason i love people like hue is because even though they’re riddled with grief and trauma, they’re mature enough to handle their emotions and you don’t need to fix them!!!) i genuinely think voltage bombed it with this route lol. it almost makes me want to go back and replay it just to see if it was really as bad as i remember but (1) i never transferred it to love 365 (2) it was on my old iphone and i use android now (3) i don’t want to spend money repurchasing a route that i’m 85% sure i’ll feel is a waste of money (4) i spent £2.49 on the route back in the day when voltage was cheaper and i don’t want to spend almost double that now lol. 

also the last time i read his route i abandoned this blog and stopped playing all otome games for a really long time lmao so................................ 

#Anonymous #snow answers #takane momochi #destind: mr. almost right #dmar #genji higashiyama #in your arms tonight #iyat #satoru kamagiri #10 days with my devil #10dwmd #seiji goto #my sweet bodyguard #msb #shinobu narita #serendipity next door #snd #voltage inc

[edda-blattfe]

Twisted Wonderland: Academic Headcanons pt.4

(Last of part of these headcanons, yay! Btw, I am up for taking requests if y’all have any.)

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit:

- Beauty is all that matters to this gentleman; shame the teachers can’t grade him on that. Vil’s grades are average, chemistry being the only exception, he is inexplicably talented in that particular discipline.

- Has mastered the art of multitasking, will study while also going through his morning routine; his textbooks may have a few smudges of eyeshadow or foundation along the pages. He’ll read through the chapter once, then go back and check on the terms. For chemistry, Vil will test the information himself in the lab. With Professor Crewel’s blessing, of course.

- All of his notes are written with the finest pen and in the most elegant cursive you will ever witness in the modern age; Vil claims it’s completely unintentional, but every compliment on his handwriting gives him an extra confidence boost (I can personally affirm that this does, in fact, happen, and it’s great). Each chapter has a heading to indicate the subject and terms are listed in a group dedicated to whatever that section of the book was discussing. His chemistry notebook has a periodic table drawn on the front cover and he keeps an ongoing list of formulas on the back.

- Is rather indifferent to study groups. There has to be a few conditions before he’ll accept; a) Leona can not be invited, b) gossip needs to be appreciated, c) he’s in charge of all experimentations, and d) Leona can not be anywhere near the location they’re meeting at. He’s not welcomed at the Heartlabyul study group due to his tendency to “constructively criticize” Riddle on his appearance and choice of decor.

- Prefers the show-and-tell method, assuming it’s chemistry you need help in. Vil will take position at the dry erase board, while you watch from the desks, answering your questions with flamboyant descriptions and a few visual aids. A firm believer in lab safety, he’ll insist you wear the appropriate attire. Expect to stay for the clean up. Over all, he’s a good tutor and knows how to simplify the lesson in a way you can understand.

Epel Felmier:

- Above average, but not so much that it catches attention. He’s a good student, but never calls attention to himself.

- Epel will usually read through the chapters a few times, and will make up little games to test his knowledge of the terms.

- His notes are short, to the point, and are written with a hard leaded pencil (the trail is light). There are small doodles of webs, plants, sometimes broken glass in the boxed off corners of his notebook paper. Occasionally he’ll write questions regarding philosophical arguments in the margins.

- He seems distant when socializing, which doesn’t give others the impression that he’d be fond of joining a study group. If anyone cared to ask, Epel would calmly accept the invitation. Most of the time would be spent merely observing the others while looking over terms.

- Like Ruggie, he wouldn’t enjoy tutoring you. Having him as a study budy might be a little uncomfortable at first, due to the lack of idle chatter. If you stick it out, though, you’ll come to appreciate the tranquil silence between you two.

Rook Hunt:

- Well, Rook is certainly not a boring student. He’ll often ask Professor Crewel if a substance is lethal; if anyone questions why he wants to know, he'll cheerfully reply with an unconvincing, "no reason." His grades are decent enough, and he always turns in his papers when they’re due, so it’s not like anyone can complain.

- Will flip through the chapter at the oddest of times, posing as if there’s a camera man hidden away somewhere. Sometimes he’ll take a page from Epel’s book and make some fun memory games....although, Rook’s games are rather-erm, unconventional.

- Refuses to use a notebook, instead he’ll write in the margins of his textbook or highlight the important parts. If he likes an underclassman, they might find one of his old textbooks conveniently left at the foot of their door.

- Also indifferent to the study group experience. If he’s required to study with someone, Rook would make an effort to get paired up with someone “beautiful”.

- Look, I’m gonna be honest. You should NEVER ask him for help, ok? Rooks idea of tutoring is putting an apple on your head and threatening to shoot an arrow at it if you get a problem wrong. He might be less severe if you’re a “beautiful” person, but really, is his knowledge worth the risk?

Diasomnia

Maleus Draconia:

- Valedictorian of his year, no doubt. Mal expects only the best from himself, and that’s exactly what he gets.

- Has a specific time and place in the Diasomnia common room, known as the “throne” to the members, where he’ll camp out with his textbooks, notebooks, and writing utensils. Everyone observers his study time, and will make themselves scarce before then. Maleus will typically page through the chapter, read it through, writes out everything he could recall from reading, then checks to make sure he got everything; afterwards he’ll look over his notes to solidify the information. Works every time.

- His notes look like a page out of a story book; everything is written in calligraphy, is evenly spaced along the lines, and the margins are adorned with elaborate decals. There’s a fountain pen that practically lives in his coat pocket just for taking notes.

- Most of his classmates are deterred by his intimidating aura, Other than Vil and the rest of the Diasomnia dorm, so he doesn’t get invited to study groups. Not that he minds, Mal is rather fond of his privacy.

- You actually had the courage to walk up and ask THE MALEUS for help? Kudos to you! He’ll recover from the initial surprise quickly and might actually agree as a reward of sorts. If you haven't visitedthe Diasomia dorm before, now is your chance. Mall will be lounging in his throne and insist you sit at the coffee table to remind you of your place give you something to write on, of course! He is a strict tutor and expects you to pay attention, refusing to explain anything more than once.

Lilia Vanrouge:

- Purposefully screws up his grades just to piss off the teachers. Everyone knows he could easily outdo Maleus, Lilia just doesn’t see the point in that. Besides, the look on Mozus’s face is worth it!

- No one has ever seen him study, not even Maleus. Some believe he doesn’t at all. He has yet to confirm this.

-Are those notes? No one can tell! Lilia writes everything in a language not found in any text in the library or on the internet. Maleus suspects it’s some ancient form of Sylvan, but even he is incapable of translating it.

- Lilia is well known for randomly popping into study groups without warning nor an invitation. He likes the look of utter shock on everyone’s face, along with their growing rage at his charming little insults. Before the volcano of unadulterated chaos bursts, he pops back out to only god knows where.

- The last thing you remember is the toothy grin on Lilia's face as you thanked that red eyed imp for agreeing to tutor you. Next thing you know, you’re smack dab in the middle of a mushroom ring at five a.m., cold sweat beading across your brow with no memory of the last thirty six hours. On the plus side, you know all of the answers to your next test! Worth it, right?

Silver:

- Silver is passing his classes, but that’s it. He’s not particularly driven to do well in school, his only goal is stay close to Mal until the right moment...whatever that means.

-Needs to study more often than he does. At the moment, Silv will only study when he can’t be by the side of the dorm master (So Mal’s mandatory study time is also his mandatory study time). He has terrible insomnia and will nod off while reading through the chapter.

- His notes are rather lacking. He’ll jot down some terms and their definitions but not much else. Some places have spot of drool from one of his unintentional naps.

- Refuses to join study groups after that one time Lilia drew on his face after he nodded off. Poor boy can never trust again.

- He’s not much of a talker, isn’t driven to study, and might nodd off in the middle of a conversation; there’s surely a better person to ask for help from?

Sebek Zigvolt:

- A straight laced student with the determination of a soldier, Sebek is determined to live up to Maleus’s example. He has a tendency to fall into a state of depression when he doesn’t do so well on his exams; Thankfully, he works hard to earn his good grades, so that isn’t common occurrence.

- He has a ruthless study regimen that soaks up a large chunk of his days. Sebek uses every study method under the sun to ensure his success.

- His notes are just as strict and obsessive as he is.

- Maleus-sama teach me your ways. Sebek is actually thrilled by the idea of joining a study group. Classmates working together to improve their academic careers is right up his alley! Too bad no one else appreciates his intensity.

- Don’t ask him to tutor you. Once you cross that line there is no turning back! Sebek will push you just as hard as he does himself, even after you fire him as your tutor! It’s kind of a sweet gesture when you think about it; he genuinely wants to help you succeed as a student.... Would be even sweeter if his methods didn’t push you to the brink of insanity; but what can you do, right?

#twisted wonderland #pomefiore #diasomnia #vil schoenheit #epel felmier #rook hunt #maleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #silver #sebek zigvolt #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons