#> did he choose that field himself or was it more of a forced decision

[sevicia]

i still dont know much about my guy who does fuckall he/him dahlia (said as if i didn't literally make him and can do whatever i want) BUT he is a tortured artist type so vote on your phones did he drop out of uni studying psychology or philosophy

I LOOOVE a tortured artist that does fuckall truly & I think saying "Yeah idk what their deal is..." about any OC ever is extremely real like some things are just none of my business.... they should try to do the thinking themselves for once 🙄

All jokes aside though I already have a slight bias for philosophy since that's what my sopping wet guy Agnes teaches at XYZ College and he fucking haaaates his job which I think is really funny #TANGENT

I do think it depends on other things about he/him Dahlia though like if what he was studying played a big role in him dropping out instead of like. being poor<3 or anything like that you could kinda think of Why he would quit either of them. if that makes sense....

Like maybe he quits philosophy because the people around him are pretentious/tortured In The Wrong Way and he either feels misunderstood OR about to explode from day 1 no hating disorder. Or maybe he just didn't fw it after a while LMFAO

If he's a tortured artist type in the sensitive way (#FAVE sorry) maybe psychology wasn't right because he realized "oh that's a LOT of awful things people are gonna tell me" yk like how people that love animals sometimes cannot handle being a veterinarian because the profession comes with The Animal needing help in the first place.

I think in either case the reason could be like getting to know himself a little Too well and not liking it. Or something. but maybe that contradicts his tortured nature...

Philosophy might be more fitting as an initial choice on his part because of how it's just all about Theories so it feels more art-inclined/subjective than psychology which focuses on things you can touch and interact with rather than the concept of truth/reality/whatever... essentially. But for that very same reason he could've made the wrong call and gone into something he was less compatible with, like psychology.

Also sorry for rambling and not even answering the damn question ESPECIALLYYY if it's just not that deep in the first place</3 I do think it'd be funny if he had 97 mental illnesses and still went into psychology when he should've been at the psych ward instead</3

[fullofmeihem]

Where are the marks of your failed arts?

lies of p paring: pinocchio x reader word count: 1226 cw: i suppose it's more fluff than anything, lil angst, scars (bare minimum description of them), bare skin, reader isn't described with any traits beyond scars, can be seen as platonic or romantic idc

a/n: second real post lets gooo, i mentioned in a response to an ask but yeah, requests are open rn. i just beat the fuckin swamp boss in my play through y'all, it was sO GROSs, my streams are getting shorter too ;c im tired

Pinocchio was no longer new to change, in fact, change was welcome in his new-found appreciation for the good of the world. Making decisions, while difficult, was a beautiful and complicated process of life. Some decisions hurt more than others, some hurt less. Many of the decisions he had made so far have been social, many of his physical situations didn't allow room for choices.

But he had noticed a difference in his ability to choose while fighting alongside you. A Stalker, human. Your choices aligned with him within those social situations, a silent agreement to minimize the hurt of your collective friends; protecting their hearts as you already did their bodies.

Your worlds coexisted peacefully for a short, yet beautiful time, until his world had broken from the rules they lived by, thrust into the world of rage and submerged anguish. The two of you hadn't met until after the devastation of the frenzy, he'd met you while you had been fighting against The Parade Master.

He could recall it like it was yesterday.

He'd rushed up the stairs and entered the arena-like area after hearing a loud crash, alerted that something sounded off in the area by the merchant outside of the entrance.

You had just been thrown into the metal fence lining the battleground, the metal behind you dented with the force of the puppet's throw. He was quick to notice the multiple other dents within the fence, the fight hadn't been easy for you.

And yet, you got back up.

Blood dribbled its way down your chin as you stumbled back to your feet.

The Parade Master had taken quite the beating, so with one more hit from you it seemed to be done for... It was never that easy. The Parade Master's mask would crack and fall to the floor as it roared with a new rage, a new desire for victory. The puppet was hungry for its win.

Pinocchio had to step in, no longer held back by the amazement of your resilience.

The two of your beat the larger puppet with ease once there were two sources of damage. While the rest of the track to the hotel wasn't easy--this is where Pinocchio learned humans don't heal as quickly as he does--you two had made it.

Tense moments constantly followed the two of you throughout your journey, with almost every battle you'd earned a new wound. These healing injuries would have you holding back in the upcoming fights you needed to face.

With your close travels came trust that ascended beyond battle buddies, you'd become companions. Because of this, you knew very well that Pinocchio could fight most, if not all, of these battles on his own. The insistence of Antonia and Geppetto had you kept in the hotel for the past few weeks, leaving your companion to fight by himself.

At first, it was weird for Pinocchio. He was used to your taunting calls, beckoning your human enemies to mess up and allow for easy openings. He had become accustomed to your anger when a few puppets were being particularly difficult. Occasionally, he had to work around your recklessness, mind-numbing pain sometimes overrode your better judgement. The uniqueness of your person kept him on his toes, and it was a comforting thing for a special creation of man.

But now being on the field felt wrong. Your banter, or often mindless chatter, was a human experience in a world of destruction.

So, a few weeks into your journey of healing, Pinocchio decided to spend some time within the hotel as well.

Pinocchio was wandering the expensive halls when he stopped outside of the wooden door to your room, staring at the material for a moment longer than he usually did. He took the moment as a sign to knock.

You called, asking who it was, when there was a lack of an answer Pinocchio heard you laugh quietly before granting him permission to enter your room.

Bare skin was not a new sight for the puppet, occasionally on the field you'd need to rip your shirt to wrap a wound, or maybe a pant leg, depended on the situation. So he approached in his typical fashion: unbothered.

However, Pinocchio finally noticed things he had yet to about you. Since the situation held no immediate danger, he had allowed himself to study your form, becoming aware of raised or engraved patterns along your skin. Your skin was lighter along some scars, darker along others, again, depended on the situation in which you earned the permanent prize.

Your eyes trailed his, watching what he saw. Your gaze shifted when he brought a hand to your arm, tracing one of your deeper scars with his eerily real synthetic skin.

"I was distracted then," You'd respond to his touch, his eyes would meet yours, "Could've cost me the arm." Your shrug concerned him.

Pinocchio would switch where his fingers lay, tracing a scar along the front of your torso. You let him, noticing how his expression shifted, how his eyebrows pinched towards each other. You knew he remembered how you received this one.

"It wasn't your fault," Reassurance laced your words, though the puppet shook his head. You wouldn't be able to change his mind even if he agreed.

This continued for a while, his fingers would run over, trace, and circle your scars and you would explain how you got them or watch as he battled himself in his mind. There were moments where you wished he'd tell you what he thought, but he was a puppet of little words, and you could understand him through the shifts of his expression.

Finally, his hand would trace over one of your larger scars, one engraved into your back.

You would smile a little, knowing where his hand lay in the maze of your scars.

"Do you remember when we met, P?" Your question was ridiculous to him, of course he did, "That one's from then." You would finish your thought after letting the silence sit in the air for just a moment longer.

Pinocchio would trail his fingers along the main puncture scar, followed by the lesser but still deep scratch scars from your encounter with The Parade Master. He would recall seeing this scar every now and then, aware of its presence. But, the puppet had never been this close to the wound. Eugenie had first taken care of you when the both of you arrived at the hotel, you'd nearly passed out from blood loss.

The softest of smiles graces his features as he remembers how insistent you were about joining him in his journey, even while injured from your first encounter. Sophia had been so against the idea, but she couldn't stop you.

You glanced over your shoulder when Pinocchio's fingers came to a halt, taking in his smile.

"What's so funny, P?" You'd tease, a brow raising at his expression. Soon, you'd lose the warmth of his synthetic skin against your scarred skin.

"Always so persistent, your spirit is admirable," His eyes would meet yours once again, a glint of appreciation present in his expression.

His words would take you for surprise, always a puppet of few words. Nevertheless, you couldn't help but smile as well. He was right, after all, the human spirit was always so persistent.

:)

[fresh-orange-whispers]

HEADCANON AND THOUGHTS

Reposted because I want to add this drawing - yeah I forgot to add it yesterday 😌

After an awesome discussion with one of my friends here, I finally set how my OC and Plo Koon would be.

ONLY MISSING HER NAME! LOL

Although Plo is a Jedi and cannot have attachments strictly according to Jedi teaching, the brotherhood between him and his troopers and the father-daughter relationship with Ahsoka are all evidence of attachment, and he has done nothing detrimental to them or to the overall situation because of these attachments. He only offers positive emotions, unlike those that are destructive and self-consuming.

So here we go.

Choosing between an army doctor and a medical droid researcher/technician is hard and I went with the latter. In the SW universe, most medical tasks are performed by droids. Technicians and researchers seem to contribute much more than real doctors.

So, during a rescue mission, she met Plo Koon and kept in touch with him. The two discussed and shared various issues/opinions related to life, technology, law and humanities. She wasn't force sensitive.

One day, she was invited to Dorin for a seminar. Dorin was a planet that placed great importance on technological development and the rule of law, and her talents were highly valued. Behind all this, it was Plo Koon who recommended her. On Dorin, she saw Plo without his mask for the first time, meditating with the Sages. He took her around the planet and told her all sorts of strange and interesting things there.

During that unforgettable journey, she learnt that Plo was a Jedi - not only a Jedi, but also a member of the Jedi Council, deeply loved and respected. But soon, her worst fear came true: she was won over by his charm and gentle character, so that she fell more and more in love with him. When she asked him how he felt about her, he had to tell her everything about being a Jedi, their mission, what they protected and how their relationship would evolve. He gave her enough patience and time to think about it and let her make the best decision. They chose not to see each other for the time being until she figured out how to handle this matter, and he would accept any decision she made, and no decision would change his feelings for her. During this time, she was not happy for a single day. She eventually came back to him and told him that after much thought, she still wanted to be with him, even if they had to keep their relationship a secret.

Love wasn't supposed to be selfish, she understood that very well since she worked in the medical field, long hours and with dedication, much like the Jedi did. She wouldn't worry about his missions and his absence, nor would he be jealous of her sacrifice to her work, droids and patients. It turned out that it was much easier for two responsible adults to maintain good communication and balance everything in their lives. Plo also started to strengthen his power, knowledge and ability thanks to the positive aspects brought by such precious attachment.

Their secret marriage was later held on Dorin.

Eventually, the CW broke out and Plo Koon left her as a Jedi General for the battlefield. She temporarily gave up her job in the production, repair, and research of medical droids and handed it over to someone she trusted. She resolutely chose to follow the army, first so she could see him, and second so she could provide aid to the wounded on a voluntary basis - her love for life and clones was no less than his. They were supposed to keep their meetings a secret during their free time in the army, but in fact, the 104th Battalion knew of her existence - Wolffe and the others even saw Plo as their father and she, their mother. They just laughed at this idea.

As the war drew to a close, Plo Koon was thinking of retiring and starting a future with her. The day before he left for Cato Neimoidia, he had given himself over to love, to intimacy, to sex - he had given himself over to that with her before, but not to this extent. Days later, Plo crashed and died under fire from his own soldiers during Order 66 massacre. After learning his death and who shot him down, she was heartbroken by the betrayal and left the army.

She later gave birth to the posthumous child of Plo, a force sensitive human-Kel Dor hybrid daughter with the same hair as hers, Kel dorian sensory organs, human facial features, Kel dorian skin color and pattern. As the child grew older, she was ready to tell her of her father's deeds, but the daughter told her: A blue man appeared in my room yesterday and said he was my father. Is this true?

Of course Plo became a force spirit, always guarding her and their daughter. In the end, her daughter became a Jedi and joined the Rebel Alliance.

[flowerandblood]

The Impossible Choice (40)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, mention of sexual assult ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

When it was all over, when he drank their shared, mingled blood he smiled sincerely for the first time in many years, filled with vivid, warm happiness. He dismissed the man who had presided over their ceremony, wishing to be left alone with her. The man did so without a word, bowing to them, walking away with quiet, rustling steps in the grass, all around them crimson, the last rays of the sun.

Around them were only trees and fields, silence and his wife's face, hot with emotion and happiness, her cheeks flushed, her slit lip shimmering an intense red. He moved closer to her, pressing their entwined hands to his chest, shortening the distance between them, letting her feel how hard his heart was beating.

"Valzȳrys se ābrazȳrys. (Husband and wife.)" He murmured low, as if his throat tightened with emotion. He saw his wife blink in surprise.

"Valzȳrys?" She asked, apparently trying to imitate his accent. He smiled wider at the thought.

"Husband." He said briefly and saw her blush even more, her eyes shining.

He thought she had never before struck him as more beautiful, more alive than she was now.

His manhood pulsed again painfully at the thought making him feel that he could not hold out any longer.

Their wedding night awaited them.

He slipped his hand under her hair, tightening it around the nape of her neck, exactly as he had when he had taken her for the first time after their nuptials in the Great Sept.

He felt arousal at the very thought.

"Vūjigon nyke. (Kiss me.)" He whispered, and she did not hesitate even for a moment. Despite her discomfort, she kissed him so greedily, her lips so hot, moist and sweet, that he groaned throatily, reciprocating her kiss, feeling an unpleasant burning sensation and pleasure at the same time.

He pulled her closer to him, their entwined hands pressed against their chests, his tongue invading between her lips deep into her throat, drawing from her a low hum of delight and fulfilment from which he felt a pulsing between his thighs. He let her feel it, pressing his hips against her body, panting into her mouth, and felt her whole body tremble.

"Here?" She asked quietly and he only hummed, sliding his nose down to her long, pale neck, placing sticky, warm kisses on it.

His hands slid down to her golden belt and untied it, making her entire robe loosen, slowly revealing her body to him. He saw with delight as she slid the material off her shoulders that her wounds and scars were growing pale, her patient hands busying themselves with undressing him.

He pulled away from her at last, looking down at her, and saw her familiar gaze, hot, misty, the kind when she wanted him to possess her, to give her pleasure.

His cock pulsed painfully hard at the thought.

"− please, valzȳrys −" She whispered and he felt his heart beat harder, his eye widened in shock.

Valzȳrys.

He couldn't hold back any longer and simply threw himself at her, forcing her to fall with her back to the grass, uncovering the material of her robe in front of him. He lay between her naked thighs, leaving her with only her gorgeous crown − her hands brushed the material of his robe off his shoulders. He was ready to lean down and give her pleasure, but he hesitated.

He thought of his first time, of how much he had longed to experience it with her instead of the redheaded whore, about how he had suffered.

He thought that he would never erase that memory from his mind.

But what if he tried?

If he had experienced something similar with her?

If it was her beautiful, soft body riding him instead of her?

He swallowed quietly at the thought, aroused and frightened at the same time, and lay down beside her on his back, running his fingertips over her soft, warm bare body. She looked at him surprised, completely not understanding what had happened.

"Come here." He whispered softly and she meekly followed his command, sitting down beside him, looking at him curiously, the expression on her face warm and gentle.

He took her bare thigh in his hand and pulled her towards him forcing her to sit astride him. She drew in a loud breath, looking at him in disbelief, and he felt his heart pounding hard, his breathing uneven.

I will make you feel good, my Prince.

He swallowed loudly when her quiet voice snapped him out of his memory.

"− do you wish for your wife to take care of you? −" She asked innocently, and he nodded, running his trembling hand over her thigh and the side of her waist.

He wanted her to take that sickening burden off him.

Ever since that day, ever since he had felt that woman, he had felt dirty.

He wanted to clean himself in her, to be worthy of her.

To forget.

He felt a pleasant shudder when she smiled tenderly at him, her hand reached up to his cheek and stroked it gently, softly, slowly. He felt his cock throb hard beneath her, covered from her only by a piece of his robe, wanting and fearing at the same time what she was about to do.

He drew in a deep breath when he felt her slide the material aside, sliding onto his hard, swollen, throbbing manhood, trailing her puffy folds up and down his length, rubbing him with her moisture, letting him feel how wet she already was. He felt a dryness in his throat at the sensation and watched it as if stunned, his heart pounding like mad.

"− you make me so wet − I want it inside me so much − do you think I’m worthy of that honour? −" She whispered softly and he groaned low, surprised by her words, so intimate, private, direct, his cock pulsed painfully hard.

He thought he wanted nothing more than to feel her.

"− yes − I − fuck −" He sighed as her buttocks rested harder against him, massaging his swollen erection with the full weight of her body. He felt unable to concentrate or think, just watching the calm, slow rocking of her hips teasing him so perfectly.

"− please − just −"

He heard her sigh at his words and rose immediately, keeping her balance on her cut hand, the other one taking his fat cock gently in her palm, directing it to her puffy, moist slit.

He thought it was a wonderful, perverted, wicked sight, and breathed anxiously, feeling droplets of sweat on his face.

They both moaned as she began to tease him, falling against his pink, sensitive tip, sinking it between her hot, fleshy walls and rising again with a sticky click. He watched it as if enchanted, his lips parted in a helpless, accelerated breath, his hands clenched tighter on her thighs.

"− I − oh, gods −" He mumbled out, watching as his thick, twiching erection stretched her tight, throbbing walls only to slide out of her a moment later, unable to experience fulfilment.

He groaned loudly, clenching his eye as she took pity on him at last, sinking all the way down on him, filling herself to the brim. Her warm, rough, wet walls sqeezed his cock, she was so tight that every inch of his length throbbed with pleasure.

He swallowed loudly when he felt her put her hands on his shoulders, leaning forward, her dark hair tickling his mouth. He parted his lips when he felt her slowly lift, sliding it almost all the way out of her, only to sink his cock into her warm, moist core again, right where he belonged.

She repeated these tender, precise movements with devotion and affection, panting along with him, his hips involuntarily pushing back against her treatments. A helpless, low moan escaped his throat each time she sank back on top of him, rubbing the sensitive base of his cock like never before, making him shiver.

His eye was focused on the spot where their bodies met, the sight of his erection slowly disappearing inside her again and again, sinking deep into her body − he lifted his gaze to her soft breasts, boucing with every movement of her body in front of him, and then to her face, her gaze warm, her lips parted helplessly in the pleasure she was giving herself and him with her strokes.

His goddess, his Maiden was taking him for herself, purifying him with her innocence, her chastity, her warmth, her flowery scent, the heat of her interior from which his head was spinning.

He felt as if he had regained something he was about to lose irretrievably, as if the sun had risen into the endless night − he opened his mouth feeling that he wanted to tell her this, now, in this moment, to let her understand what he had just experienced.

"− I’m not sure − ah − if you’re my wife − or − mmm − if it’s the Maiden herself who came down from the heavens to marry me − the Stranger − darkness, nothingness −" He breathed out, and she moaned loudly at his words, involuntarily speeding up her pace, falling against him with a loud splats of her moisture, filling herself to the brim with his throbbing cock.

He groaned feeling it, his hips began to slam faster into her, the tension in his lower abdomen unbearable − he let his knees rise to penetrate her deeper, her breasts bouncing up and down in front of him, droplets of sweat running down her beautiful neck.

He watched this feeling that he was getting closer and closer to fulfilment, that he would come inside her and fill her all with seed, his Maiden, his Beloved and that it would always be so, that he would always purify his darkness in her light, he would wash the blood from his hands in the wetness of her mouth, he would find refuge from his own madness in the warmth between her thighs.

"− valzȳrys −" She mewled helplessly, so sweetly, so innocently, her walls clenched greedily against his length, unwilling to let him go.

"− as if life had married death − water had married fire − day had married night −" He growled, grasping her hot cheek with his hand, his thumb running over her lips − he heard her hiss, feeling pain and arousal at the same time.

He felt her hands tighten on his shoulders, her body rising and falling on top of him with a loud wet clicks, teasing his entire length as intensely as ever, bringing out loud moans of pleasure from him and her.

"− my beloved god − implacable − cruel − unforgiving − ah − infinitely dark − like the night spreading over us −" She mumbled, lifting her chin up, tilting her head back, and he groaned low, feeling that he had lost his breath for a moment at her words, his manhood pulsed painfully hard inside her, feeling that a few more thrusts and there would be an end, a fulfilment, a relief.

"− ābrazȳrys −" He choked out helplessly and panted loudly, throaty, coming hard inside her, his hot seed spilling inside her in waves, his body tensed, glistening in the starlight from sweat and exhaustion. He tilted his head back, for a moment losing touch with reality, never before in his life had he experienced such a powerful orgasm.

He felt his Maiden lean over him, pressing her forehead against his, panting heavily on the brink of her fulfilment, grasping his hand in hers, putting it between her thighs.

"− please −" She mumbled and moaned loudly when, without even asking her, he began to do what she needed, his thumb beginning to swirl in intense, sure strokes around her puffy, sore bud, making the tension inside her unbearable.

He fucked her with his still hard cock through her orgasm, sweet, innocent moans escaping her lips as she fell on top of him with her last strength, coming down from her elation, panting hard along with him.

He watched her as if mesmerised − her eyes were clenched in delight, her body glistening with sweat and fatigue, her dark strands of hair on her face, the beads from her crown sparkling on the sides of her head like tiny diamonds.

He sighed quietly as she lay on top of him suddenly and embraced her immediately with his erection still deep inside her. They were both breathing loudly, trying to calm themselves, their bodies all sticky and wet, enveloped by the pleasant evening breeze. His hand stroked her hair gently, his other hand placed on her back − he gazed at the stars thinking only of how beautiful what he had just experienced was.

How long he had delayed giving up control to her because of how afraid he was.

He pressed his lips together at the thought, and then decided.

He would tell her.

"You know that when I took you into my bed on our first wedding night, I was not a virgin." He said quietly and felt her flinch all over, clearly surprised that he was bringing up such a subject now, that they had experienced such a tender rapprochement.

He felt her nod uncertainly, surely terrified that out of nowhere he would start telling her about the servants he had fucked before her, for some reason wanting to hurt her now.

"Aegon took me to a brothel when I was thirteen. It was his gift to me on my Name Day." He said slowly, low, not looking at her but at the stars, his hand involuntarily playing with her hair, wandering once in a while over her bare back. His wife did not respond, so he continued.

"I didn't want this." He whispered and felt her whole body tense up, her head lifted a notch to look at his face, but he didn't dare reciprocate it.

He was afraid he would see pity or embarrassment.

He had never told anyone about this.

"That woman couldn't even make me hard, she was much older than me. When she finally succeeded, she just sat on top of me and rode me. I couldn't look at her and she forced me to hold her huge breasts." He said, looking ahead thoughtfully, absorbed in his thoughts.

"I thought if I ran away, I wouldn't be a man. That this whore would have blabbed it all out. The whole of King's Landing would be laughing at a one-eyed impotent prince who can't even −" He stopped off suddenly and shuddered as he felt her hand on his cheek, snapping him out of his reverie. He felt his heart pounding fast.

He felt ashamed.

He was a man, and he couldn't please a woman.

She told him he was wonderful, but sure enough on the outside she laughed at him later.

Her fingers stroked his face slowly, reassuringly, tenderly.

"A thirteen-year-old boy is not a man. Your brother and that woman disgust me." She said in a cool, confident tone that surprised him.

He looked at her in disbelief and saw that her gaze was not sympathetic, mocking or full of pity.

He had the impression that she was downright furious.

"How could he do this to you?" She asked with pain. He swallowed loudly, looking away, staring ahead, pressing his lips to her forehead, his heart was pounding like mad.

A thirteen-year-old boy is not a man.

Your brother and that woman disgust me.

He wasn't the one who was deficient.

They were.

He didn't know why, but he felt relieved at her words, as if someone had taken from his chest the giant stone that had been crushing him since that night. He swallowed quietly, running his fingers along her bare shoulder, feeling her anxious, nervous breathing.

"Your brother sent me a letter." She said quietly and he froze, glancing at her quickly, his heart beating harder.

"When?" He asked dryly, trying to sound as calm as possible, though he could feel the rage rising within him.

His brother was again trying to speak with his wife behind his back when he had decided that for him he would put his life, his wife's life and their child's life on the line.

"Today. He wrote that he knows of my injuries. That my and your contributions to the kingdom are inestimable. That he apologises for his confession in King's Landing and for the situation he put me in. That he will do his best to be a good king." She said, looking at him uncertainly, kissing his cheek gently, as if to reassure him.

He swallowed quietly at her words, feeling his anger leave him slowly. He grunted quietly, stroking her bare skin with his hand, goosebumps passing through her under his fingers with every movement he made.

"Did you answer him?" He asked after a moment, and she sighed quietly.

"I wrote that I was glad for his words, that my wounds are healing properly, and you and I remain faithful to him." She said softly, trying to hide the tremor in her voice.

"That's all?" He asked coolly, and she raised herself up on her elbows to look at him, his beautiful wife, her dark hair scattered in a slight disarray, her skin shiny and soft, his.

"Yes. If we are to fight and die for him, let him actually try to be a good king. I want our sacrifice to make sense." She whispered, and he hummed under his breath, looking away from her, sighing. He felt the touch of her hand on his cheek and closed his eye.

"Let's make love until morning and then heaven's will be done."

_____

Taglist 1

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[thegreatnpowerfulspuukiiz]

clarence is soooo interesting to me bro i just wanna put him under a microscope and study him for hours i have soooo many questions.

like??? are his parents straight edge too or is it just him?? and if it’s just him what MADE be like “nahh.” and choose to become straight edge??

why doesn’t he have claws like kazu?? i get that they’re different types of vampires but what even IS a nosferatu??? google said it’s just another word for vampire 😭 do imps outrank nosferatu or vise versa??

he likes cooking things that can be enjoyed by all devils INCLUDING nosferatus and in any art we see of everyone eating, he’s usually just drinking a blood bag so does that mean he literally can’t eat/digest certain foods unless they’re made with his devil type in mind?? is bro not hungry??

bc we often we kazu eating loads of different things but once again they’re different devil types so ig i can’t keep comparing them i just idk RAH

it seems clarence’s biggest issue is having to take the blood straight from the source (hence why he’s always drinking from bags) and ik that both nosferatu blood and mandragora fruits are life forces but i wonder if clarence would’ve gotten the same effect from drinking yahgie’s blood since he’s not either of those devil types??

i think i recall yahgie saying some of his own blood was mixed into the ramen as well but it was the nosferatu/mandragora mix that made clarence go into blood rapture, yahgie’s blood likely just being an added strength bonus. i recall clarence mentioning that he's weaker than pandy bc of the type of blood he drinks, but when they went on the field trip he wasn't put in the group with weak devils like nemo and kazu.

and from the action panels of clarence vs kaiko, he seems to understand how to use these power ups. this plus the panel where he says “no one should have this power.” and talks about how it disgusts him, makes me guess that this isn’t the first time he’s gone into rapture.

i just wonder what he’s seen or heard or even DONE himself that made him so against utilizing his powers?? and if i’m remembering correctly, in the flashbacks/arts we’ve seen of baby clarence he didn’t have the straight edge tattoo and neither did his parents, one of which who can FLY (his mama), so i’m assuming that this was a recent decision he made when he was older??

also if he drank fresh devil blood would he be able to fly on the regular like his mom?? and do non-straight edge nosferatu vamps just go around biting folks for fresh food?? like I'D HAVE AN ISSUE WITH THAT TOO PROBABLY

HE’S JUST???? SO INTERESTING I WANNA KNOW mORE ABOUT HIMMMMMM I JUST???? I LOVE HIM SM ANSWER MY MANY QUERIES @devilscandycomic PLS IM BEGGING SOMEONE ANYONE

*collapses to my knees in anguish and sobs*

anyway all art/panels taken from the official devil’s candy site (where it can be read for free!!!!) or tsuala’s insta/twitter!!

also the next volume drops in july and my boy’s on the spine and front cover let’s heckin goooo 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[carnelianwings]

I take back what I said about not having much to say about Lacus in Seed Freedom, because the more I think about it the more I found myself empathizing with her and rooting for her throughout the movie (where I was largely neutral on her before).

Spoilers behind the cut (as you'd expect)

Seed Freedom opens with Lacus living with Kira, taking a more active role on the world stage, and a legitimized role on the world stage for once. Every other time she's taken action in her own name, with her self-titled "Clyne Faction", it's always been as a rogue, third party of like minded individuals, who are funded through non-government means (whether it's her just ... outright stealing the latest prototypes, or secretly developing them through Terminal and the Factory, and I'm not sure if it's even stated where the actual money for the latter comes from), and as such, isn't bound by the usual red tape and bureaucracy of having to answer to government officials and keeping things "on budget". It didn't matter that Kira would trash the suits for both sides to stop an active war zone, costing billions, because the Three Ships Alliance was never beholden to such world governments.

The difference is, COMPS is.

And thus Lacus struggles, now that she has to defend and legitimize Kira's actions on the field in a way that she never had to before - she's no longer able to just speak in philosophical terms, she can't just say "What Commodore Kira Yamato did is right, he stopped the fighting and he stopped your people from committing war crimes", she has to keep reality in mind (not just the ideal world she wishes for) and in reality, at the end of the day, money talks. And having to expend money and resources to replenish troops and equipment is a drain on the world governments, and no government is going to just disarm themselves at this point when there's still active skirmishes/smaller scale wars going on. (The fact Orb has kept an armed force in all of Seed says a lot about the world.) And it's a struggle she's never had to deal with, because she knows where Kira is coming from, understands why he made the decision he did in that moment, and fundamentally agrees with what he did, and so she can't just "throw him under the bus" by blaming him and saying what he did was wrong.

She can't just stop him, not when she agrees with what he's trying to do, and most certainly not when she wants him to be able to choose how he lives his life and what he does with it. Even if she herself wants nothing more than a quiet life on a secluded island, just her and Kira and all her robots, no war, no politics, no idol performances, no Being a Symbol for the People. Because she knows if she did that (and Kira would most certainly go with her) and it wasn't a choice Kira also made, wasn't something he also wanted, he'd be equally unhappy, torn between what he thinks he should do (because he can so he has a duty to) and what he wants to do, even if he's slowly burning out and self destructing from overworking himself.

But she also equally doesn't want to abandon him (because that's what she feels like she would be doing she didn't join him on the world stage) nor does she necessarily want to leave her "position" as "Icon of Peace" open (she's still haunted by what happened with Meer). She's supported him ever since he's gotten the Freedom (even if she's not a pilot and can't directly support him the way Cagalli can for Athrun), she's had his back for so long because she fundamentally agrees with what he wants to do, and she, too, at the end of Seed Destiny feels like she can't just Let Someone Else Take Care of It, because what if another Gilbert Durandal comes along?

So she takes the mantle of "Inaugural President of COMPS", and (just like Cagalli before her in Seed Destiny) struggles, wrestling with herself for the opening arc of the movie (before Orphee comes in and makes everything worse). Because for the first time in all of Seed, Lacus isn't sure if she made the right choices, made the right calls in the heat of the moment, and most certainly doesn't have all the cards in her hand before engaging in verbal warfare on the world stage. She's no longer in a position where she can just sweep in, Be Lacus Clyne Doing Lacus Clyne Things, use her charisma to "smooth things over", and even though she has a staunch ally in Cagalli (who is the one who proposed the idea of COMPS) at the end of the day, she's still the one who has the make the tough choices and the hard calls and take the "middle of the road"/compromise option where she didn't have to before.

And in the end, what she decides is she really just wants to be "Lacus Clyne Doing Lacus Clyne Things", and what Lacus Clyne Really Wants is to go live out in the middle of nowhere with her (very traumatized but very in love with her) boyfriend and maybe have hot beach sex once in a while, where neither of them have to fight anymore, because there's other people who are just as capable at this, who have been taking up their mantle, and more importantly are as equally as invested in this (glances at Cagalli and Athrun) that neither of them have to be the ones to pull the weight anymore as "the ones everyone relies on and looks to to Stop The Fighting".

Like I said before with Kira, if this is where her arc ends, and they're both relegated to flashback/Big Damn Hero moments after this, I'm fine with it. Because at the end of the day, both Kira and Lacus never really wanted to be there front and center in the first place (he fell into the cockpit, she ended up getting symbolized by the public), and it's high time they got their well deserved (peaceful) ending out of the public eye, as they both wanted since Day 1.

[fe-fictions]

Could I please request a Seteth fic where he has to choose between saving Flayn or saving Byleth?

(This one was so much fun to re-write!! I miss the dragon family so much ;;; A ;;; I really need to write for them more often!)

In the heat of battle, it was imperative to make difficult decisions in a split second. There is little time for hesitation. So when you are in love with someone who must fight alongside you, the threat of having to choose between them is a threat that is real and always looming in every battle.

Seteth was faced with an equally impossible task; to make that decision should something happen to his lover, Byleth, or his daughter, Flayn.

He had prayed every night on that campaign that such a decision would never have to be made.

But eventually, unfortunately, it did. And it was as though he were watching a nightmare unfold in slow motion.

His wyvern jolted suddenly, trained to listen for the sound of Flayn’s voice. He scanned the field for her, spotting the swathe of green curls flung about wildly as she struggled to fight. A small battalion had snaked their way into the backline, and were going after the suppors.

He all but yanked the beast around, driving himself toward while shouting commands to others that the healers were under attack.

He was about halfway there, when his eyes caught something in the corner of his peripheral.

The glint of a blade he was far too familiar with, and found himself following the blurry action. Your sword had nearly been struck from your hand- you were fighting a losing battle against one of the generals present in the fight. Seteth’s body seized, eyes wide when he realized the dire situation you were in.

There was blood all over you- and he knew that it wasn’t all the enemy’s. He could see the exhaustion in your desperate movements, how you were running on pure adrenaline alone. 

You all were; but this…this was getting exceedingly serious.

His wyvern keaned beneath him, reminding him that Flayn still needed help. 

That he was still the closest to reach their little troupe of healers. But that you were also in front of his eyes, fighting for your life. Support for the Archbishop was not nearly as close as it should have been. 

They were being pushed back by the general’s pawns.

His blood turned to ice in his veins. The world went silent around hi, only the thundering of his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

His eyes flicked from his place between his lover and his daughter. The Archbishop, and his child.

“Seteth, we need to discuss this sooner or later.”

“I know you speak the truth, but surely we can table it for another day-”

“No. We have to make this decision clear, here and now. I love ou, and I love Flayn. But if a situation should arise between the two of you, I know what decision you would have me make.”

Seteth’s eyes narrowed, pulling his wyvern’s reins and driving the beast into down the frantic path to rescue.

“I would never ask you to choose between the two of us.” He could hear the words over and over in his mind. He could remember the vivid displeasure in your expression.

“But should such a situation arise, you would have me choose Flayn over you, wouldn’t you?”

His knuckles went white, roaring towards the enemy.

“And Seteth…should you ever find yourself in a similar situation…I want you to choose her first, too.”

His axe ripped through the armored plates of the invaders, forcing them out of the backline. He could see bright green eyes, wide with confusion and relief.

“Byleth, you cannot ask me to make such a choice- if you were to be harmed, or worse, because I wasn’t there to- I-I could not live with myself.”

“If I’m honest with myself, dear…I couldn’t, either. But I am not your wife. And I am not your family…Flayn is. You’ve sacrificed so much to protect her and support her.” I would never dare ask you to prioritize my life over hers.”

“Byleth-”

“There will always be another Archbishop, Seteth.”

He remembered the sad smile clearly, as he reached down, grabbing his daughter up from the ground and protecting her from another blade.

He couldn’t look back when he heard the shrieks of panic, the cries that the Archbishop had been struck down. You were hurt.

“But there will never be another Flayn. And I know that if you were in my place…you would gladly have e choose to save her over you in an instant.”

Seteth’s rigid frame kept Flayn in place as she struggled against him.

“No- no, Father, we can’t-!! Go back!! Byleth’s hurt!! We have to go back!!”

You were right. There would always be another Archbishop.

“Please, she needs us!! We have to help her!! Please, Father!!”

But there was only one Byleth.

And he had just condemned you to death.

-------------------------

When the battle finally ended, the campsite was grim. No one was feeling any sort of joy, despite the enemy having been routed.

Their fearless leader, the undefeated warrior, had been bested.

And the Archbishop was in critical condition. Seteth was inconsolable. No words of reassurance, no sympathies were to be spared for him. He turned them all away.

If they had time to worry about the Minister, then they had time to worry about the Archbishop, about the Church, about anything else more deserving of their time than he.

The man who let you all but fall to your death.

The only person who was welcomed into into his audience with a worthwhile conversation was Flayn.

The young woman who stormed into his office, furious with her father.

“How could you?”

He did not look up from his hands, folded tightly atop his desk.

“How could you let Byleth be hurt like that?? How could you prioritize me over the woman who is working to unite the entire continent?!”

Seteth’s grimace deepened. He could not provide her with a worthy answer.

“I…I saw where you were. I saw you freeze- I wanted you to come to me, I knew you were going to save me! But when I saw Byleth-- I realized why you’d hesitated at all. You were trying to help both of us, and then you chose me!!”

“Flayn-”

“But you chose me over Byleth!! A-and we both know that she’s not just the Archbishop to you. We both know very well that she’s you’re in love with her! And you still chose me over her?!”

“It is not so simple.” He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. He did not realize how much his fingers were trembling, before. “I had to make this decision, because it was mutually agreed upon by both of us.”

“What?” She stared at him in utter disbelief. He nodded, carding a hand through his hair.

“We decided, a long time ago, that if there should ever be a scenario in which your life hung in the balance or one of ours did…we would both prioritize your safety.”

Her mouth fell open, but no words could escape. She stared at him, speechless, struggling to understand what he just said.

“Why…no, no…why?”

“Because you are my daughter.” He looked at her, finally, and what little resolve he could manage to find had met her gaze with a mountain of grief behind it. “And I swore to protect you, above all others. Byleth would do the very same for you, because she knows that my priority has been, and always ill be, the safety of my child.”

“But- but I’m not a child anymore. I’m an adult! I’m a fully capable being that doesn’t need you or Byleth to protect me!! Gods- gods, you had the Archbishop prioritize my life over hers?! I can’t believe that!”

“It’s true. And if I were the one in danger, Byleth would have made the same choice.”

“But- but that’s not- I know how much you care about her. I know that you love her, and that you want to be with her!! For once, can’t you prioritize your own feelings? Can’t you prioritize Byleth??”

“I…do Not know that I am worthy enough to make such a decision. But it matters not- I am a father, first and foremost. I will always put you first. I can only ask that you understand.”

Flayn exhaled sharply, her hands balled into fists. “I understand. But that doesn’t mean it’s right!! You have to prioritize yourself sometime. You have to prioritize Byleth. Especially if you love her. And if she comes out of this alive…you’d better tell her that.”

The word “if” echoed in his ears, reminding him just how serious this situation was. The pale color of your skin, the shallow breaths….the glimpse of your broken form he had seen was not just a hypothetical.

Seteth could actually lose you. That was what terrified him. He did not regret his decision. He could never regret protecting his daughter. But at the cost of not protecting you….it tore his heart into pieces.

A full day would pass before any word of your condition arrived. You had made it through the night, mercifully, and you were no longer in danger of death . They had patched you up successfully, and wrapped the wounds in such a way that they would not be reopened provided you remained in bed long enough to let them heal properly.

It would be six hours after that relieving update was provided that he was informed that you were awake.

Not only that, but you were asking for him, specifically.

He had never moved so quickly in his life. His legs carried him faster than his thoughts could form, all but sprinting to reach your side and ensure that he was with you after far too long apart.

It would give him the opportunity to apologize. To beg your forgiveness, to hope that you understood why he made the decisions that he did.

Eventually, he hoped you would find it in your heart to forgive his transgression against you. But if you did not…he could not find it in his heart to disagree. It would make sense, after all.

The prime minister was at the doors in no time, knocking tentatively on the old wood and hoping the healers would let you in.

Mercedes was the one who opened it to him, her expression cool but her smile at least marginally positive.

“She asked for you as soon as she woke up, Prime Minister.” She said softly, “If you’re of a mind, she would like to see you for at least a little while.”

“O-of course. I would not dare keep her waiting another moment. May I…may I see her alone?”

Mercedes glanced back, considering the state of her patient. “Very well. I can give you a little while, but she’ll need close monitoring over the next few days.”

“I understand. Thank you.” He stepped into the medical bay, taking a deep, shaking breath. It did little to steady his nerves, nor to keep the guilt from bubbling over.

But when he saw you lying there, staring out the windows and bound heavily with bandages…he was not certain if there was anything he could say.

You turned your head when the door was closed, finding Mercedes was gone and the dragon man stood in her place.

He didn’t know what to expect; he deserved to be shouted at, to be reprimanded for abandoning you, to see angry tears fall and a declaration that he had broken your heart, that you never wanted to see him again.

Instead, you smiled.

“Set…Seteth.” You raised your hand, either to beckon for him or to ask him to hold it. Either way, he was striding to the bed and kneeling down at your side within a single breath.

“Byleth-” He could barely choke your name out before the sorrow threatened to spill over.

He took your hand in both of his, squeezing your fragile fingers tightly. He stared at you, the worry and guilt written all over his face. It was impossible to miss, especially as the woman he loved.

“I’ll be okay.” You whispered, your gaze far too warm and loving given the state you were in. 

Seteth swallowed thickly, his eyes running over your frame again and again. 

“Are you in pain? Are you uncomfortable in any way?” He asked worriedly, searching for something to fix.

You shook your head, wiggling your fingers that he grasped so tight. “No…I’m not in any pain. Mercy…treated the most pressing wounds very well. And…and she gave me some healing tonic that’s quite strong….I feel more numb than anything else.”

“I-is it supposed to be numbing??” He asked, the alarm breaking through the guilt, “I’ll go and fetch her right away, I’m sure sh’es just outside the-”

“It’s supposed to.” You assured him, “It’s that or…the pain and discomfort you asked about.”

“Oh…I see. Very well.” He cleared his throat, steeling himself with a deep breath. “Then…aside from your physical state…how are you feeling?”

“You mean, how mad am I at you?” You corrected him jovially, though he did not seem to appreciate your humor.

“You have every right to be furious at me, Byleth. I let you be harmed. I did not protect you.” He sighed, looking down. It was far too difficult to meet your eyes. “You should be shouting at me, and I imagine you would be if you weren’t in such a sorry state. A position that I condemned you to, that day…I…I know my words hold little meaning in this situation, but I must apologize to you, profusely. I am so, so sorry that you were hurt.”

“Ou shouldn’t be apologizing.” You shook your head, trying to free your hand from his. When he realized you were trying to slip away, he quickly removed his hands, clasping them tightly in his lap. Of course you wouldn’t want to touch him.

At least, that’s what he thought. But then warm fingers brushed his cheek, cupping his face with a tenderness he could never deserve.

“You did the right thing.”

“I-”

“You swore to protect your daughter. We both agreed…to put Flayn first. How could I ever be upset with you for protecting your family?”

“I-I do not regret my decision to protect Flayn. I could never regret that. But I cannot help but feel that I have betrayed the woman I love, as well. That I abandoned you in that moment.”

“You didn’t abandon me.” You shook your head again, smiling softly, “You were keeping your daughter safe. And I will never hold that against you. I know you would not if I did the same.”

“I wouldn’t, no. But I’m also not the Archbishop of Fodlan. Your position holds great influence, and to see you wounded when I could have prevented it…the blow that the whole army took when you fell was severe.”

“It wasn’t their decision to make. We  made it. It was ours, and ours alone. It may be callous to say this as the Archbishop, but…frankly, I don’t care what they think when it comes to those I love.”

“I cannot believe you still have the strength to say such things,” He laughed, though it was clipped and bitter, “I am not deserving of your love. You should want nothing to do with me after I risked your life.” It would be safer for you to cast me out.”

“But I won’t, because I love you. I will always love you. You and Flayn are like family to me. I’d do anything for both either of you. Even if it means sacrificing my life to protect you.”

Seteth did not register the tears down his cheek until you wiped at them, still cradling his face with your frail little hand.

He bowed his head, covering your hand with his.

"I do not deserve you. Nothing I have done in my life could ever make me worthy of you.” His voice trembled,  turning his face to kiss your palm. “You are not like family to us, Byleth- you are our family. You are  our world…And it is desperately important to me that you know that.”

“I do.” You whispered, all but beaming even in spite of your exhaustion. “I know, and I feel the very same way. So don’t ask forgiveness, Seteth- there’s nothing to forgive.”

He did not wholly agree with you on that point, though. He was quite certain that you were more than deserving of affection and attention from your family, and he didn’t consider himself worthy enough to be that to you, yet.

So instead he decided to shift his plans up, from waiting until the war was over, waiting until the continent was secure and rebuilt, to make you a fully fledged member of his family.

Instead he took Flayn’s advice; as soon as you were healed and back on your feet, he whisked you up to the north tower, and proposed to you on the spot.

A proposal you readily accepted (and naturally earned the cheers of your soon-to-be stepdaughter, who had snuck after her father when she saw the ring in his hand earlier that evening).

While it was an absolutely joyous moment, you did have to agree to Flayn’s demand that from now on, you and your husband must put yourselves first; protect one another above anyone else. 

Otherwise, how else would she get a little sibling?

[fuckingfinwions]

surprised geode au feanor's being a little less brutal to fingolfin in terms of punishment

i mean compared to geode au fingolfin, one week of potentially being raped doesn't seem as bad as forcing your brother to pick which of his sons you're going to rape

also several days lol i imagine it's going to be a question along the lines of "what the fuck is a silmaril" that finally breaks the illusion for the feanorions

thanks for answering my asks! it's nice to read your writing again :)

Good point, I hadn't really compared the brutality. I did say he's going to start with the two of them naked in public for a week.

After that, Feanor will wan to do more to them in revenge, but he's used to thinking of himself as the wronged party, the morally good victim. He isn't evil like Fingolfin and Fingon, to enjoy raping people in his power.

So it will be torture where Feanor stays fully clothed, and claims not to enjoy it at all. Whipping Fingolfin until he can't stand, and then leaving him to lie on the stone floor bleeding (Feanor knows this won't kill an elf as strong as they are). Using every sadistic or large sex toy in Fingon's room on Fingon, in revenge for what he did to Maedhros. Offering Fingolfin a day off the torture if FIngolfin is the one to beat Fingon this time, and when Fingolfin refuses making him watch Feanor get out a whip studded with glass.

(I haven't fully decided, but I think Turgon and Aredhel are in Gondolin, and Argon died early or doesn't exist. So Feanor unfortunately cannot make Fingolfin choose which of his sons gets tortured, at least not without involving an innocent woman for nine months first).

Also: Not all of Feanor's sons are down with directly participating in torture, but none of them are going to stop him from getting revenge for Maedhros. Celegorm will join in, mostly following Feanor's rules (no rape involving your own genitals, and only maiming if Feanor specifically orders it), because he's never really gotten to take apart an elf the way you take apart an animal you hunt. Sure, no maiming, but he can skin Fingolfin's calf right, as long as he puts the skin back down before Fingolfin bleeds out or the skin dries out/dies? Just five or ten minutes of watching the muscles move while he turns Fingolfin's foot back and forth. (And this means Feanor can force Fingolfin to choose which of Fingon or Fingolfin gets Celegorm or Feanor today.)

Caranthir joins in once or twice to vent anger but finds it less fun than he expected and stops. Curufin assists several times to show Feanor that Curufin totally approves of torturing the usurpers and is a good loyal son. After a few times though, Curufin admits to not having much creativity in this field, and would rather go back to smithing weapons rather than breaking elves.

also several days lol i imagine it's going to be a question along the lines of "what the fuck is a silmaril" that finally breaks the illusion for the feanorions

Yeah, Feanor not knowing what the Silmarils are, or caring about the Oath, will definitely make it clear that he is missing memories, and lead to the whole thing unraveling! Even without the Oath though, Feanor is still completely on board with getting revenge against Morgoth for killing Finwe and torturing Maedhros. And he's not going to abandon his sons to Everlasting Darkness whatever that is, so he'll make sure they get the Silmarils off Morgoth's corpse, plus he thinks they sound like cool gems worth studying.

All told, the Feanorions are going to keep Feanor as king despite him having zero context. This is probably a bad decision, but no one ever accused them of making good ones! Maedhros is fairly sure that he's Feanor's property now; Feanor apparently isn't going to fuck him but that doesn't mean Maedhros makes decisions or anything crazy like that. Maglor is a natural born follower, and has verbal objections to torturing his cousin and uncle but knows when he's outvoted. Celegorm is glad to have Maedhros back and 100% on board with plan: get revenge on absolutely everyone. Caranthir is weirded out by Feanor's different assumptions, but glad they're finally doing more than a stalemate in the war. Curufin is so glad to have his dad back alive, and willing to overlook Feanor being "unwell" for that. Also, now Curufin knows things in the forge that Feanor doesn't, and can actually teach Feanor new things, the world is upside down but it makes him feel like a genius! Amras thinks that this version of Feanor is better than the one who burned to ash in front of them anyway; "would let himself be raped to reduce the amount of rape his sons experience" is better than "doesn't even notice where his sons are until he kills one of them".

They settle on Feanor as king with Maglor and Curufin sitting on either side giving advice and explanations as to who these people in the great hall even are. And Maglor had an excuse to perform the Noldolante for an audience thoroughly unfamiliar with it (let's teach Feanor history!), so he enjoyed that.

[caparrucia]

Random thing I've been meaning to ask: why do you think checkers and not chess is the actual strategist game? I think you mentioned once that it's because the pieces are equal in checkers, but don't strategies rely on the difference of the roles between the different pieces, and thus are closer to chess? I am ready to hear any in-depth rant you have about this subject

So, I want to clarify, I, personally, don't think that. A character in a story does. IRL, Chess and Checkers are completely different disciplines. You can't really compare players of the two and say one is better at strategy than the other. I personally like checkers better than chess, but that's a personal preference. The character in question does compare and contrast, though, for a reason.

I think it's Ardyn in the Storm King verse, I'm pretty sure:

Because here’s the thing about MTs. Here’s the truth Ardyn never bothered to explain. You can program them to fight. You can make them inordinately powerful. You can harvest them in the thousands. But they’re still barely pawns in the field, only as powerful as the hand that commands them across the board. Caligo is very good at chess, but Ardyn is a master of checkers. And down go Caligo’s toy soldiers, pawns and rooks and knights and bishops, one after the other.

So, what Ardyn is talking about here, or rather the metaphor he's building, is two-fold (and then there's a non-diagetic layer of why did I choose to put that metaphor with those layers in it, but I'll get to that):

Chess is a more complex game than checkers: there's a greater variety of pieces that move in a greater variety of ways, and often different pieces will move differently, depending on the situation. So he's equating the MT Army to a chessboard side: all different types of MT and other machines that do not have a will of their own and depend entirely on their commander to think for them. The MT Army cannot make decisions on their own, if their commander fucks up, they cannot protest or rebel or turn back or do something to mitigate. Like in chess, Caligo here is entirely responsible for the fate of his troops.

Whereas in checkers, there's two key differences: every piece is the same, and you are forced to take what your opponent gives you, you're actively forced to play not around but with what your opponent is doing, a lot more poignantly than in chess. What Ardyn is saying is that he's himself. All his pieces are himself, because he is alone and he's on the defensive: him and no one else, all the bits and pieces equal in that they're all him, and they're all the same and all forced to work around what they're given, by Caligo's army.

The line: "Caligo is very good at chess, but Ardyn is a master of checkers" is a disparaging remark on their perceived abilities, from Ardyn's POV. Caligo is a good enough commander, but he's going up against a master, therefore it's natural that Caligo's chess strategies fail before Ardyn's checker tricks. This doesn't mean this is true, because this is, again, Ardyn, speaking about Ardyn, and I cannot emphasize how much of an unreliable narrator Ardyn is, just by default.

But the real metaphor in there is Ardyn saying Caligo is playing a completely different game than he is: which is true. Caligo is treating this as a rebellion or a spat or a betrayal. He's ascribing motives to Ardyn that have nothing to do with Ardyn and everything with how Caligo sees the world. Ardyn is playing a completely different game that might, in passing have some resemblance to what Caligo is doing, the same way checkers looks vaguely similar to chess: but his motivations and goals and strategies are completely different. That's another layer of meaning, in their chosen games: in chess, the win condition is to capture the King. Caligo is here for Ardyn, and no one else. In checkers, the goal is to destroy the opponent completely OR, less commonly known but also perfectly valid: incapacitate the opponent's pieces so they cannot make any moves. Caligo fails, under the rules of chess, because he fails to capture Ardyn. But Ardyn wins under the rules of checkers: not only does he destroy Caligo's army, he sends him back to Iedolas, well aware that's a fate worse than death, and that there's nothing Caligo can do to get out of it.

So the first metaphorical layer is telling you something about the individuals and their command/strategy style and approach to their combat. The second is telling you about what actually happened and why.

And the last layer is non-diagetic, meaning, it's about me as an author, making that choice for a metaphor. And the reason I chose it, is precisely because chess is considered a more sophisticated strategic game than checkers. I'm playing off the cultural perception that uses chess/checkers as a lazy shorthand for "this character is a strategic genius!" and challenging it directly, because that makes for a much more memorable line/scene. There's nothing wrong with following cultural references in a story, but when the reference itself has turned into a trope and the trope has turned into a lazy shorthand, subverting or disrupting the expected meaning makes for writing that is a lot more memorable.

[starryserenade]

Myth and Magic Ch. 5: Something New

Fic Description: When Tir Na nÓg--the fabled land of the fae--falls to a dark power, the destinies of two young mice are set in motion. As each struggle to make their way in an ever-darkening world, they must learn to trust one another, or risk forever losing that which they hold most dear.

Chapter Description: Duty, Danger, and Decisions. Two dark forces conspire. Minnie must choose her path--return to the lake and continue waiting for her past to return, or venture towards the future into a new unknown.

Commentary: Hi there! If you like what you read, please consider commenting, tagging, or even shooting me a message! I write mainly because I love to share my ideas about the characters with other fans, so it means a lot to me when I'm able to engage with others regarding those interests. Don't feel obligated, but know I'll always be grateful if you do. And to those of you who already do this, thank you so, so much <3

Links:

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Prologue

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

~~~~

“ We have a problem.”

Oswald teetered on the open window, chuckling under his breath when Mortimer fell backwards in surprise and knocked his crown to the floor. Any time he was forced to be in the mortal king’s presence, it was difficult to keep the taste of bile from rising in his throat.  He did, however, enjoy the look of anger and disdain that flashed across the rat’s face when he had recovered enough to look his way. He was a rat, Oswald was sure of it, despite the king’s best efforts to convince people otherwise.

As for himself, he had taken the inconspicuous form of a raven, as usual (for Changelings often prefer to match their forms to their wings) and now ruffled his feathers quite obviously to show his amusement.

“Haven’t you ever heard of doors?!” Mortimer snarled, picking himself up from the floor. “ Damn Changelings.”

Nimbly, Oswald stepped from the windowsill and fluttered to the ground, his blackened feathers growing until they had draped around his whole body–his usual one, that is��then stood to his full height and pulled the wings to his back. 

“Oh please,” he scoffed, meandering over to a desk and picking an apple from a tidy basket of fruit. “A fairy waltzing through their halls? Your guards would have a field day.”

“So change into something else!”

Oswald smirked, taking a bite of the apple before wrinkling his nose at the taste and tossing it out the open window. “And miss getting to see you act a tool?”

Mortimer grumbled and climbed to his feet, glaring daggers towards the rabbit. “What do you want?”

“Your princess is alive.”

The rat nearly dropped his crown all over again, fumbling to keep his grip on the metal through the fabric of his ornately decorated robe. “Wh-what?” he spat, face twisting more than usual. “You said you took care of her!”

Scarlet curtains ruffled in the wind when Oswald beat his wings once, balling his hands into fists. “Don’t blame this on me! I had my own part to take care of, thank you. If you’d had the sense to act even halfways tolerable, she wouldn’t’ve run off to the fairy realm in the first place!”

“Not my fault she had poor taste,” Mortimer replied snootily, eyeing the seams of his glove.

Oswald rolled his eyes. Despicable as ever. He let Mortimer have a moment of pride, if only to heighten his reaction, then spoke. “I wonder if she’ll see it that way.”

At this, the mortal king froze as if recalling some critical detail, and slowly looked up to meet Oswald’s stern stare. “Sh-she, uh, she doesn’t know yet, does she?”

A candle flickered, and lightning struck outside. Mortimer jumped, but Oswald didn’t even flinch. “If she doesn’t now, she will soon. The Sidhe spotted them…er, the princess before I did.”

Mortimer turned away, face pale as a ghost, and started pacing back and forth.  As far as motivation was concerned, he always was a fantastic responder to the concept of self preservation. And that was about it. “This is bad. This is bad, ” he hissed, biting the tips of his fingers. 

“Oh, stop acting the maggot, would you?” Oswald sighed, and whacked the rat with a sweep of his wing, which prompted Mortimer to fall back in a golden armchair. “As long as she’s missing even a single memory, the girl’s no threat to us, or Miss ‘dark & brooding’.” Instinctively, he slipped a hand into a pocket within his cloak and felt the orb there within it, pulsing with the warmth of magic. “The only reason I’m telling you is so you can keep your people out of the way.”

“Out of the way?” Mortimer leaned in curiously, 

“Of the Sidhe. The barrier will be broken tonight, trust me. And when it is, they’ll be going after her. The whole “imprison all fairies” thing worked well enough for those rebels, but it’s pointless now. If any of your people cross the Sidhe, they won’t make it out alive. Get the word out–tell them to stand down.”  

Mortimer yawned. “Eh. That seems like a lot of work. They’ll be fine.”

Feathers scattered across the room as Oswald spread his wings in a rush of fury. “Don’t mistake my company for friendship,” he snarled, glaring fiercely at the rat despite his height. “I despise you. But your people don’t deserve to perish for your incompetence.” He pulled in his wings and whipped around, cloak nicking the now-shaking rat. With a jump to the windowsill, he transformed again into the raven and cast a final, furious look towards the mortal king. His red eyes gleamed in the darkness of the storm outside. “Get it done,” he cawed, and leapt into the rain-struck air.

Perhaps he should have taken the door this time. For if he had, he would have caught the eavesdropper just outside, her violet dress silently sweeping across the floor as she made her escape.

~~~

A slight jolt woke Minnie with a start, and she let out a startled gasp as her eyes flew open. Darkness. Cold. That’s what she was used to. Had she dreamed all the thoughts and images that now flooded her mind?  Was she still back in the lake, alone?

But no. No, her fur was dry, and hay surrounded her instead of the frigid waters she’d grown so accustomed to. She heard a soft breath beside her and, as her eyes adjusted to the shadow, found Mickey asleep just inches from where she lay. He lay with his back to her, having curled into a ball with the hay surrounding him like a nest. She had not noticed before how thin he was, nor how his neck was littered with tiny scars. And though she felt a little silly watching him without his knowing, she could not help but be concerned. His breathing was shaky and labored, and he shivered more and more with every passing moment. 

She curled her fingers thoughtfully, and somewhat nervously, wondering if it would be unseemly for her to reach out and lend him her touch. If she was to leave him soon, she wanted to be sure he was all right. Perhaps the same warmth that had saved her would help to ease the fever that had overcome him. 

Gingerly, she stretched out her hand and placed it on the nape of his neck, fingers passing smoothly through his fur. He drew in a sharp breath as she did and, startled, Minnie nearly pulled away. But then he exhaled and his body relaxed, melting under her palm. When he let out a soft murmur, Minnie smiled, and let her fingertips slip ever so slightly past the collar of his tunic. 

The feeling was different than before, she quickly realized. Before, she had felt the magic spring more from him than her, but had assumed that simply to be a result of her icy nature.

But now, a different power flowed from her own hands. A soothing coolness. She worried at first that it might worsen his chills, but his skin was so hot to the touch that her strokes seemed only to calm the ferocity of that fire. 

“ Mmm-Min…”

Minnie paused, cheeks flushing. Was he awake?

“Mickey?” she breathed, hand hovering just above his skin, and waited silently for a response. But none came, and she assumed the murmur to have been the result of some kind of dream. This soothed her conscience for only a moment and she continued her work, before the realization hit her and she blushed even more.

What was he doing dreaming about her?

She had hardly any time to consider this when the mule brayed from outside, and the cart rocked back and forth before coming to a stop. Footsteps followed by Goofy’s voice and the jingling of tackle sounded as he began to unhitch the animal from the cart. They had arrived, Minnie realized, and with that came a sour taste of disappointment.

Reluctantly, she pulled her hand away from Mickey, who shuddered almost immediately, and sat up. With one last touch, she set her hand to his cheek and sent him a quiet whisper.

“Mickey…Mickey, wake up. We’re here.”

He groaned and rolled over at first, burying his face in the hay, and Minnie giggled at his childish antics. At least he seemed to be feeling better. He must have heard her humor, however, because he turned his head alone and peeked an eye at her. “Five more minutes,” he grumbled, but Minnie saw the playful glint in his eye and prodded him gently in his cheek. 

“Get up, sleepy head. You can rest some more when we get inside,” she scolded, pulling his arm to “help him” sit up. He was determined to fight her on this every step of the way, but when she finally succeeded and he sat with a rather grumpy looking expression on his face, she flicked his nose and giggled. “Oh, cheer up. At least you’re not out in the rain.”

No sooner had she said this, than they found the canvas being swiftly lifted from them. Even in the shadow of the storm clouds, the light of early afternoon was enough to cause the two mice to have to squint, their hands held over their eyes.. 

“AGH! Goof, maybe some warnin’ next time?!” Mickey shouted, voice still thick with sleep but getting brighter all the while. 

“Oops…Sorry!” Goofy apologized, and Minnie laughed.

“That’s all right, Goofy,” she started sweetly, and Mickey glared at her. “We appreciate you helping us.”

Mickey wrinkled his nose, entirely aware of what she was trying to do. Minnie cast him a knowing side-eye, and he sighed. “Ugh. Yeah, thanks, Goof,” he grumbled at first, then more sincerely, “We, uh, really do appreciate yer help.” 

“Well, o’course!” Goofy responded cheerfully. “Anything for my friends! Now come on, let’s get you two outta this cold and inside! I’ll whip up a nice pot o’ stew for you both.”

Goofy had stationed the cart in a small stable near his home, but the distance it took for them to walk to his residence still gave Minnie enough time to take in the state of the town. As Mickey limped beside her, leaning against her shoulder with a rather embarrassed look on his face, she looked about and wondered why the village seemed so unfamiliar. She had been here a hundred times before, but it wasn’t the place she remembered. It had been warm and busy, bustling with life and color. Now it was dull, drab, and lacked the friendly sheen that had made it such a fun place to visit as a child. Her heart sank, eyes on the river whose level was far above where she’d remembered seeing it last. 

Mickey must have caught her staring because he nudged her gently. “You’ve been in that forest for a while, huh?” he asked, not mockingly. There was only sympathy in those eyes of his. She nodded, and he echoed the motion, looking back out at the world. “It hasn’t stopped rainin’ in about three years,” he explained. “Snowin’ too, actually, in the highlands. It’s done a bit of a number on the kingdom.”

Minnie swallowed hard, having a pretty good idea of why. All this time she’d thought she’d kept the fairies’ cursed weather within the confines of the forest…but at best, all she’d done was delay it. How else had she unknowingly failed her kingdom?

“But hey!” Mickey continued, seeing her dejected expression. “It’s brought out the best in some people. Like ol’ Goof here. Didn’t hesitate to help when I needed it the first time, didn’t hesitate to help us when I asked again. It’s good people like him that make livin’ in a world like this worthwhile, y’know?”

Minnie smiled softly. “I suppose,” she murmured, though tears stung at the corners of her eyes. It wasn’t his fault the world was like this to begin with. In many ways, it was hers.

Goofy’s tavern was dark and chilly when they first entered, but their host quickly stepped up to work. Before they knew it, there was a warm fire crackling in the fireplace and Goofy was ushering them over to sit beside it, thrusting a warm tea in each of their hands. Then he rushed to the kitchen and began whipping out all sorts of utensils.

“Gosh, he’s really somethin’, huh?” Mickey stated, taking a sip of his tea and shivering.

“You act surprised,” Minnie laughed. “Aren’t you two friends?”

“Friends? Well, sure. But I only met him yesterday.” He took another sip of tea while Minnie stared at him, then caught sight of the look. “Er…what?” 

“I really don’t know a thing about you, do I?” she asked, feeling a little guilty. 

Now it was Mickey’s turn to chuckle. “There’s not much to know, honest.”

“That can’t be true. How about…where you’re from?”

He looked at her blankly for a minute, then turned back to his tea. Minnie tilted her head, tail curling behind her as she watched him study his cup. “I, uh…” he started at last, and cleared his throat. “I don’t really know, if I’m bein’ honest. Woke up one day in the middle of nowhere. Figured I must’ve had a rough night out on the tear, and it would all come back to me later on.” He laughed and lowered his head. “But I guess I really messed up because my memories never did come back. So, um, I’ve been wanderin’ ever since. It’s a bit embarrassing, really.”

Minnie’s expression softened. “Guess we have something in common then, huh?”

Mickey snorted and gave her a strange look. “What? Y’ended up in the lake by gettin’ ossified or…?”

“No!” she squealed, elbowing him lightly. Then she took a sip of her tea and tapped her finger against the cup. “It’s just…I don’t remember some things too,” she breathed. “Some really, really important things. Just part of the curse, I suppose.”

Mickey didn’t say anything for several seconds, and she squirmed shyly as he stared at her face, brows furrowed in concentration. “Well then,” he said at last, pursing his lips then lifting his cup. “Here’s t’forgetting.”

With a gentle giggle, Minnie lifted hers as well. “To forgetting.”

They both moved the cups to their lips, and Minnie downed the last bit of her tea with a satisfied gulp. But even as she swallowed, something clattered beside her and she looked to find Mickey’s cup spilled over on the floor. He clutched his head, not seeming to notice the fallen drink as he ground his teeth in pain.

Minnie sprung up and rushed to him, bringing the back of her hand to his forehead. Once again, he was burning up, and when he opened his eyes to look at her, they were tired and dull. 

“What is with this fever of yours?” she hissed, pressing her palm to his cheek to try to cool him down. He leaned into it, unresisting. “Goofy!” she called, whispering an apology as Mickey winced at the sound. As soon as the man saw the commotion, he dropped everything and rushed over to the both of them. 

“Gawrsh! What’s the matter with ‘im?” Goofy whispered.

“He needs to rest…I think,” Minnie replied. 

Goofy nodded and gestured towards the staircase to the back of the tavern. “I’ve got a spare room up there. Nothin’ fancy, but it’s nice and quiet.”

“‘Mm’okay, really…” Mickey muttered briefly as Minnie brushed the sweat from his forehead with a sweep of her fingers. But his eyes fluttered feverishly, cheeks still a burning shade of scarlet.

“Oh, please,” she scolded him gently, slinging his arm over her shoulder as she helped him stand. “Just a moment ago you were whining about waking up.  I think you’ll survive a little nap.”

She felt him shudder in something like a chuckle, and smiled. At least he still had his sense of humor…that was a good sign. Besides, she supposed something like a fever was only to be expected after all he’d been through today. He’d be all right, she was sure of it. 

Upstairs, two door frames flanked the hall and Goofy led them into the one on the right. The door creaked miserably, but the room inside was anything but. It was…adorable, actually. The wooden furniture, though sparse, was all painted a neat shade of baby blue, and the floor was littered with little toys and trinkets. It was a child’s room, for certain, though Minnie couldn’t tell to whom it belonged.

Goofy nearly tripped on one of the toys, but recovered just in time and frowned at the mess. “Gawrsh…didn’t know it was such a mess in here!” he laughed, picking up some of the toys as he went along. “But that’s my Maxie for ya, *hyuck*! I’ll have him sleep in my room this evenin’, so you can make yerselves comfortable! There’s some extra blankets in that there chest,” he explained, gesturing to the wall as he made his way to the door. “Now, I have to go into town, but I shouldn’t be long. You two holler if ya need anythin’!”  

He shut the door behind him, and Mickey immediately looked at Minnie with pleading eyes.

She let out an exasperated sigh as she guided him to the bed near the window. “What is it now?” 

“I’m not sleepin’ in a baby’s room…”

It was all she could do not to die of laughter as he leaned against the bed frame and looked at her with that adorable, pouty face, his nose wrinkled in distaste. She had half a mind to listen to him. But instead, she forced a frown. “Don’t be rude! It’s better than being out in that cold!” 

He groaned, but Minnie was persistent, and set to work grabbing an armful of extra blankets and laying them out over the bed. “That fever of yours isn’t going to go away with you sitting here arguing with me, you know.” She tucked the blanket into the frame, then stacked a bundle more on top and pulled back their corners back to make room for Mickey, who reluctantly slid himself underneath. Despite all his arguing, he yawned and settled into the pillow almost as soon as she had pulled the blankets up over him.

“I’ll be right back with some fresh tea,” she promised him gently, and he responded with a drowsy nod.

But by the time she returned he had no use for the drink, having already drifted off into a deep sleep. Minnie stepped lightly over to the bed frame, watching as he drew in a labored breath. Rain pattered on the windowsill and she glanced at the sky, knowing that it would not be long before it grew even darker. How late was it now, she wondered? A part of her wished twilight had already come, so that she could say she missed her chance to return. But she knew it hadn’t.

Mickey shuddered under the blankets, and Minnie set her hand to his forehead. He had only grown warmer…but at the very least, the cool relief of her touch seemed to calm him slightly. She sighed, and whispered a quiet apology. It would have to be enough, because she couldn’t afford to stay any longer.

Gingerly, she made her way out of the room and closed the door behind her as quietly as she could. The stairs seemed the noisiest thing on earth as she made her way down them, and she prayed with every step that Mickey would not wake to their sound. When she finally reached the bottom, she let out a relieved sigh and cast one more glance upwards. “I really am sorry, Mickey…” she breathed, then turned her back and made her way to leave.

She had hardly reached the door when it flung open on its own, and she yelped as she leapt backwards. Her fright was short lived. A familiar figure now passed through the frame. “Oops! Apologies, Minnie!” Goofy chuckled as he meandered inside, though not alone. A small child–no more than three or four years old–grasped his hand, and moved to hide behind him as they spotted Minnie.  

“Oh-!” Minnie gasped, still recovering. “Oh, that’s all right.” She spotted the child and knelt to meet them. “I’m sorry if I startled you.”

The child glared at her suspiciously. He was dripping wet with rain, but had a sort of spunk in his eyes that nearly made Minnie laugh. When Goofy gave him a small nudge, he pattered forward and wrinkled his nose, looking her up and down. 

“Are you a fairy ?” he asked at last, staring intensely.

Minnie laughed, and a bead of sweat dripped down her forehead. “Oh, dear, not exactly…” The child tilted his head, looking as though he very much did not believe her.  

“But dad sai-”

Goofy swept him up before he could continue, and playfully ruffled the boy’s hair despite his protests. “All right, now that’s enough. Why don’t you head on upstairs and get dry. My room t’night, all right, Max?” 

“Hmph. A’right,” he grumbled, casting one more curious glance at Minnie before he ran upstairs.

“He seems…sweet,” Minnie grinned, finding the boy’s suspicions rather adorable. 

“Light o’ my life,” Goofy declared proudly, then made his way to the kitchen and started clambering with the dishes he’d left out before. “Now, how’s Mick holdin’ up?”

Minnie’s humor vanished, and she shamefully studied the ground. It would have been so much easier to leave without having to explain. But now that Goofy was back, she supposed she would have to. “He’s…fine.” Her tail flicked behind her. “Actually, I…I wanted to ask you to look after him.”

Goofy choked, having lifted the smoking lid of the pot he’d left to simmer for too long. He waved the smoke away, eyes tearing as he slammed the lid back on and turned back to her. “Why..? *cough* Are ya *cough* goin somewhere?”

She winced at the sight of his predicament, but answered his question nonetheless. “Yes. I have to…” she murmured quietly. 

When the smoke was mostly gone, Goofy sniffed and looked at her thoughtfully. “Well,” he started after a moment had passed. “Then I won’t stop ya. ‘Course I’ll look after Mickey. You just tell me what ya need before ya head off.” 

It was the perfect answer, but not the one Minnie had hoped for. If he’d refused or argued, she might have had a reason to stay and look after Mickey herself. But as it was, she knew Goofy would do everything in his power to make sure he was safe. The nature of kindness practically radiated from him. This was lovely, but now it only discouraged her.

“Right…thank you…” she whispered, and made her way to the door. She had just lifted her arm, hand hovering over the handle, when she turned back around. “Actually…” She swallowed nervously. “Can I ask you a question first?” 

Metal clattered as Goofy set the dishes he was working on down on the counter, and leaned on the wood. “Don’t know I’ll have the answers for ya, but yer more than welcome t’ask.” He gestured to one of the barstools with a friendly wave.

Minnie nodded gratefully, and gingerly made her to the counter. “It’s just…” she started as she took a seat. “Imagine you’d found your perfect ‘happily ever after.’ And it was the most wonderful thing in the whole, entire world. But then…” she continued, voice cracking. “Then something came along and took it all away.” Her hands had begun to shake, and she took a trembling breath. “How can you ever hope to find something so perfect again? Should you even try? Or…or just… keep waiting…”

Goofy was silent for some time, and she thought she saw a glimmer of sadness flash behind his joyful eyes. She had foolishly assumed someone with as much a disposition for laughter as him could not possibly know heartache, but she knew in that moment she’d been wrong.  After several long seconds had passed, he sighed deeply and folded his hands.

“Well, I figure that all depends on what you’re waitin’ for,” he began, and even his boisterous, smiling voice cracked just slightly. “Sometimes things y’care about more than anythin’ are taken from ya without any o’ yer say in the matter. It’s not fair, and it’s bound t’hurt ya, but that’s just a fact of bein’ alive. Now…there’s no harm in waitin’ for things to get better–hope’s a powerful thing. But I figure, if ya wait too long, then you’re likely to miss out on a whole lotta good that’s standin’ right there in front o’ ya.” 

“You think?” Minnie breathed, something like hope fluttering in her chest. Or perhaps uncertainty. She couldn’t quite tell. “But how do you know when to let go? How do you know when to stop waiting?”

At this he grinned, almost wisely. “Well, I’d gather it’s different for everyone. But sometimes things’ll stumble into yer life that’ll put ya at a crossroads. And when that happens, it’s up to you t’decide. Do ya keep on waitin’...” 

From upstairs, a small voice rang out, followed by the sound of pittering feet. “Dad!” 

Goofy cast one last glance at Minnie, flashing her a knowing wink as he finished his answer. “...or do ya love somethin’ new?”

[whitesinhistory]

On July 23, 1942, Governor Frank M. Dixon of Alabama refused to sign a contract that would help produce 1.7 million yards of cloth to assist the U.S. in World War II efforts, fearing that the nondiscrimination clause in the contract could require integration and choosing instead to uphold segregated workforces as a “basic necessity.”

The U.S.'s 1941 involvement in World War II spurred a reliance on government agencies to help finance and increase production of defense supplies. The Defense Supplies Corporation was established to help finance critical wartime supplies. When a non-discrimination clause was introduced into a contract with the Defense Supplies Corporation mandating that “the seller, in performing the work required by this contract, shall not discriminate against any worker because of race, creed, color or national origin,” white politicians throughout the South launched a massive campaign to resist the erosion of segregated working conditions—even if it meant hindering U.S. defense efforts. 

Relying primarily on the labor of incarcerated people at Alabama cotton mills, the Defense Supplies Corporation’s contract with Alabama was meant to produce 1.7 million yards of cloth. However, on July 23, 1942, in a letter to the New York agent of the corporation, Governor Dixon explained his refusal to sign this contract, arguing that “demand[s] that Negroes be put in positions of responsibility” at cotton mills in Alabama were unacceptable. 

Instead, Governor Dixon praised Jim Crow practices throughout the state of Alabama “under which the white and Negro races have lived in peace together in the South since Reconstruction.” In aligning himself with other Southern white politicians, Governor Dixon attested that “the present emergency [World War II] should not be used as a pretext to bring about the abolition of the color lines in the South.” So fearful of the “intermingling” of Black and white workers, Governor Dixon explicitly praised “white supremacy,” and stated that “he will not permit the employees of the state to be placed in a position where they must abandon the principle of segregation.”

Governor Dixon was not alone in his decision to maintain segregation over assisting the U.S. in defense production. Earlier that week, an attorney named Horace Wilkerson in Birmingham made a public speech calling upon white people in Alabama to join in resisting integration under any circumstance. In stating that “a herculean effort is being made to break down and destroy segregation,” Wilkerson advocated for the establishment of a “league to maintain white supremacy.” Throughout the summer and fall of 1942, thousands of white businessmen and workers supported the governor's decision to uphold segregation instead of signing the contract that would assist World War II efforts. Forty-two newspaper editorials were published in support of Governor Dixon’s decision. Though pressure for a skilled labor force eventually compelled Governor Dixon to rescind his refusal and permit the training and employment of Black people in defense industries in Alabama by the fall of 1942, he did so only with the understanding and agreement that Black workers must be segregated from white workers.

Two years later, when an executive order ended segregation at Maxwell Field in Montgomery, Alabama, former Governor Dixon wrote to the current governor, Chauncey Sparks: “It is heartbreaking thing for those of us in the South who realize what the destruction of segregation would mean … to have all our plans wrecked by the type of very dangerous thinking which produced this order.” Urging Governor Sparks to continue to stand against integration for “our people,” Dixon remained committed to maintaining white supremacy even after his term as governor.

To learn more about the campaign of massive resistance to integration that white politicians and leaders, with popular support from millions in the white community, waged against calls for racial equality, read EJI's report, Segregation in America. 

[vaguelyrotten]

Through the Shadows, To the Edge of Night - Chapter 6

Weighed down by nightmares and bad memories, Alec Lightwood feels like he's just a ghost of the man he once was. When a new neighbor moves in next door and the man and his adorable charge become an integral part of his life, Alec starts to see a light out of the darkness…that is until a single horrific night forces him to relive the horrors of his past.

After six months had passed, Alec could say he was truly happy for the first time since he’d returned. His sleep remained nightmare free more often than not and the times he did wake up in a cold sweat with his demons knocking at the door, he would send his boyfriend a text, and make his way down the hallway between them where Magnus was always waiting for him with open arms and a welcome distraction. Sometimes they talked until the sun came up and Magnus had to go to work and take Madzie to school, other times his boyfriend pulled him to bed and held him tightly until Alec drifted off in his arms. 

Magnus’ presence in his life didn’t just change his sleepless nights. Alec found himself with a rather busy calendar these days. He’d taken over babysitting for Madzie on the nights Magnus had to work late and had quickly become a familiar face when dropping her off at her friends houses, dance classes, or the stable. When Magnus wasn’t working and Madzie wasn’t at school or a lesson, the three of them liked to go on adventures. Sometimes it was the zoo, or the aquarium, or a simple journey across town to a brand new ice cream place that had opened up. And then, of course, there were the lunch dates on days when Magnus wasn’t consumed by a case and Alec could pull him away. 

His therapist had cleared him to return to work in a lighter capacity a month ago but instead of being excited, Alec found himself a bit despaired. He wasn’t ready to return to work and he wasn’t sure he wanted to at this point. The torture that he’d endured had almost been a blessing in disguise. Before, he’d never been able to consider another career - the Institute had been his only option but now… the world was his oyster. If he didn’t have to return and could do something that truly made him happy, what would he choose? He’d started to daydream about his possibilities and had mentioned them a time or two to Magnus who he knew would support his decision no matter what he decided. 

Despite what had happened to him in the past, Alec’s life was good…so when he woke up in the middle of the night to eerie silence and his instincts on high alert, he knew that something was very, very wrong. 

A quick glance at the clock showed it was just after three in the morning and the sounds of the city outside of his window were the same as they always were. It was the heavy silence that hung in the air and the stomach-churning scent of ammonia that had Alec reaching into his bedside table for a gun that he hadn’t told his parents he possessed (and one that Jace hadn’t been able to find before his initial release from the hospital). He found it all too easy to slip into the mind set he used as an active field agent, checking and clearing all rooms of his own apartment and finding nothing amiss.

Still, though, his gut was screaming at him that something wasn’t right and he knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he ignored it and went back to bed only to learn in the morning that there was some sort of situation that he could have helped prevent. He knew he should call Jace and get him out of bed and over here for backup and maybe he would ask his brother to canvas the area but he wanted to check on Magnus and Madzie first because if he called Jace than Isabelle would come too and Alec had yet to tell either of them that he’d started dating his new neighbor.

The hallway was quiet when Alec opened his door and he took a few moments to make sure no one was lurking before he stepped outside and quietly padded down the hall to Magnus’ apartment. The door was ajar and Alec’s blood ran cold. 

Alec raised his gun and pushed the door open, ready for someone to start shooting at him the minute he was inside. Instead, he found a mess. Magnus’ living room was in shambles and it was clear that a fight had broken out. Furniture was broken and tipped over, the frames that had once hung on the walls were now scattered across the floor in pieces, the files that Magnus had been working on at the kitchen table the last time Alec had been over were strewn across the room and his laptop had been snapped in half.

There were no sounds from anywhere in the apartment and Alec was fairly certain whoever had invaded Magnus’ space was long gone so he continued inside, looking for any trace of his boyfriend or his young charge. There was no sign of Magnus in the kitchen or the hall bathroom and as he continued through the apartment, a quick glance at the balcony and the shattered window, told him that the other man wasn’t outside. The master bedroom was closest to the entrance but the open door told Alec that unless Magnus was under the bed, he wasn’t inside. 

Madzie’s bedroom was at the end of the hall. Alec twisted the knob and the door slowly opened with a squeak. He held his breath, terrified of what he would find on the other side. 

The little girl’s bedroom was in the same state as the living room but Alec didn’t have a chance to investigate further. Magnus was hog tied in the middle of the room, staring at Alec with terrified tear-stained eyes and Madzie was nowhere to be seen. 

Alec dropped to his knees and untied the gag from around his boyfriend’s mouth. “Alexander, they… Madzie…she’s…”

“Let me get you untied and you can tell me what happened. We need to call the cops,” Alec said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice so Magnus didn’t get even more upset.

“Can’t call the cops,” his boyfriend replied with a sob as Alec’s practiced fingers released the knot at his hands. “They’d only hurt her more and this is too big for them.”

“What’s too big, Mags? Take a breath and tell me what happened.”

Magnus inhaled sharply and let Alec finish undoing the knots in the rope he’d been tied with. He said nothing for a few minutes and they both knew that each second that ticked by was one second farther that they got from finding the little girl. “I’ve been working on a case,” Magnus said finally, letting Alec pull him to his feet and guide him to the only upright chair still in the apartment. “For the better part of a year, bodies have been turning up with the same symbol branded onto their bodies. As far as we could tell, nothing linked the victims together — they were all different ages, different races, different sexes…the only thing they had in common was that brand.”

Alec grabbed Magnus a glass of water from the kitchen and waited for his boyfriend to continue. “We figured it was one of the crime families in the city…and the victims appear to be far enough apart and random that we were certain it wasn’t a serial killer. But everyone we had come in was clean and so were the sites they were discovered at. We had no information we could use to pinpoint the culprits and the case sort of was put on a backburner until we could find some data that we could actually use.”

“Last week, NYPD got a call about the bodies of two men who were found gutted on a bench in Central Park. When the medical examiner got them back to the morgue, they noticed that they both sported the same brand, albeit theirs were a lot sloppier than the others we had found. We had the bodies transferred to the FBI lab and as we started our own investigation, we realized we actually had something we could work with. Our killer hadn’t been so thorough this time and we found a trace of soil from one of the men’s boots that had a very specific composition that we’d be able to use…we were getting so close. I thought we’d finally be able to put this thing to bed.”

Magnus squeezed his eyes shut and Alec watched as a single tear rolled down his cheek. “They said taking Madzie was a lesson. I needed to learn not to dig my nose in where it didn’t belong.”

Alec felt his blood begin to boil at Magnus’ words. He’d dealt with some truly terrible people in his line of work but the one thing he couldn’t stand was criminals messing with innocents or children. Madzie didn’t deserve to suffer because her caretaker was just doing his job and trying to make the world a safer place. They were going to get her back, he’d make sure of it and they couldn’t take this to the cops. No, not only was Magnus right that this was bigger than the NYPD could handle, it was now personal and Alec wasn’t going to let a single soul stand in his way.

“We’re going to get her back,” Alec stated, a plan already beginning to form in his head. “We’re going to get her back tonight.”

“I want to be hopeful too, Alec, but…we’ve been looking for these people for months now and we haven’t been able to find anything. Nothing about that has changed just because they took Madzie.”

“You said you were close,” he replied as he stepped into Magnus’ room and grabbed a change of clothes for the man. Alec needed to call for back-up and he wasn’t going to leave his boyfriend in his ruined apartment alone. “And what’s changed is you now have me. I might not currently be an active agent, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have resources.” He scooped Magnus up in his arms and carried him down the hall to his own apartment. “I want you to go get dressed,” he said, pointing to his bathroom after he set the man down. “Take a shower if you want, I’m going to make some calls and get us some help.” He paused, noticing the panicked expression on Magnus’ face and knew that he must be thinking that they were wasting time. “It’ll be okay, Magnus,” he said softly. “Madzie will be okay…I  promise.”

His statement was enough to get Magnus moving and once his boyfriend was out of sight, Alec let out a sigh. He wasn’t going to fail the man now. And he absolutely refused to fail Madzie. 

Alec’s phone was on his bedside table where he’d left it and he waited for the sound of the water in the shower before he dialed his brother. “Jace,” he said when the ringing stopped and the line opened. He cradled the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he pulled on a pair of jeans. “I need you to grab Izzy and I need you to get over here now.”

He could hear his brother swear and the sound of him jumping out of bed. “Alec — what’s wrong? Do I need to call Maryse? Did something happen to you?”

“Easier to explain in person but I could use some back-up ASAP. I’m fine physically but my neighbor is not…and don’t tell Maryse. She’s going to tell me not to get involved because she doesn’t think I’m ready for it but I refuse to sit on the sidelines for this. It’s important.”

He felt Jace hesitate on the other end of the line. “You didn’t…hurt anyone, did you Alec?” His brother asked hesitantly and Alec couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He knew that they’d been afraid that after he was released,  he’d suffer a mental breakdown and lose his grip on reality and injure someone. It was one of the reasons that they’d taken his weapons when he’d first returned back to his apartment. Alec knew that he wasn’t a danger to people but at the time, he hadn’t had the energy to fight them on the matter. 

“Not yet,” he said flatly, his eyes trailing over to the door that his boyfriend was behind. “But someone is going to suffer by the end of the night for what they did to Magnus and Madzie. Call Iz, Jace. Now. I needed the two of you here ten minutes ago.” He hung up the phone without giving his brother a chance to ask any further questions, knowing that the urgency in his voice was enough to get the two of them moving. Magnus had yet to emerge so Alec took the chance to liberate some of his other weapons from their hiding spots and take them into the living room. Cleared to carry weapons or not, he refused to go into this situation unarmed. 

When Magnus stepped into the living room ten minutes later, dressed and looking slightly less panicked than he’d been before Alec had sent him into the bathroom, Alec was strapping a second gun into the holster on his thing. He saw Magnus pause in the doorway with a thoughtful expression on his face. “What?” Alec asked carefully, afraid that he’d somehow done something wrong. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” Magnus answered, crossing the room quickly and brushing a thumb over Alec’s cheek. “I just haven’t seen this side of you. You look different…dangerous.”

“I’m still just me. I won’t hurt you. I won’t hurt, Madzie.”

“Oh, I know, Angel. I know…Madzie and I are lucky to have you in our lives.”

Alec opened his mouth to reply when his door slammed open. He had the gun in his holster out and pointed at the intruder in a fraction of a second but he relaxed once he saw Jace and Izzy, their own guns at the ready, lingering in the doorway. “I could have shot you,” he said, dropping the weapon to his side and putting it away. “That was stupid. I told you I was fine. There wasn’t any reason to bust in my door.”

“Jace didn’t say fine,” Isabelle replied with a roll of her eyes. “So blame him. I believe his specific words to me were that something had happened and you were about to do something stupid because of it.” She strolled through Alec’s living room to where he’d positioned himself in front of his stunned boyfriend. “I’m Isabelle, Alec’s younger and far more intelligent sister. You must be the neighbor.”

“Magnus Bane. Alec has told me all about you. I wish we were meeting under less unfortunate circumstances,” Magnus replied, shaking the hand that Isabelle offered him.

“He can catch the two of you up to speed,” Alec said, gesturing for them all to take a seat. “I’m going to go check on Magnus’ apartment and grab some files I think we’ll need and make sure there was nothing else that we missed.” He left his boyfriend with his siblings to tell them about the attack and Madzie’s abduction knowing that his siblings would keep the man safe while Alec was out of the room. 

When Alec entered Magnus’ apartment, his focus was on the files that were thrown about the room. If his boyfriend had been trying to find these people for months now and they’d given him nothing of substance that he could use to find them, the likelihood of the culprits leaving behind any sort of clue for Alec to find was slim to none. He’d focus on getting the papers together and send his sister over later. She had a better eye for that sort of thing than he did anyway. 

As Alec started to stack the pages, his eyes lingered on a few images from what must have been the autopsy for the two men from the park. The knife wounds in their chests had been precise and Alec could tell that they’d been caused by a sharp blade and a steady, practiced hand but that’s not what had caught his attention. Magnus had mentioned that they’d both been branded but the work on the mark had been rough. He could see what his boyfriend meant - both the men’s brands had jagged edges and long lines like whoever had given it to them hadn’t been careful. Something about the mark tickled the back of Alec’s mind but he couldn’t quite place it. 

He finished gathering the scattered documents and pushed himself to his feet, taking one last look around the apartment as he did, cementing the image in his mind. Whoever it was that had taken Madzie and destroyed her and Magnus’ safety would pay - Alec would make sure of it. His eyes drifted down the hallway to where the little girl’s room was. He’d shut the door behind them earlier and from where he was standing, only the horseshoe he’d hung above her door that had flipped upside down in the struggle gave any indication of the crime that had happened inside. 

He tried to move to the door but his eyes focused on the curved piece of iron and he found himself unable to look away. In the distance he heard the sound of metal striking metal and his vision began to get fuzzy at the corners. Magnus’ apartment seemed to fade around him and he was standing in the middle of a stable — only the stalls weren’t filled with horses, they were filled with children.

The scene changed again and Alec grabbed a long piece of metal from where it was heating in the furnace and swung at a man who had come up behind him. The man fell to the ground and Alec pressed the hot brand against his attacker’s neck and dragged it down across his shoulder. The man screamed and the scent of burning flesh reached his nose. Another shadow moved behind him and Alec got ready to go again. 

A bus. A long stretch of road. A church.

The room began to appear around him as his flashbacks faded and for the first time since he’d returned from his disastrous mission, Alec truly remembered. He swore under his breath as his mind started to piece everything together and he ran down the hall to his own apartment. Magnus and his siblings looked startled at his sudden and wild appearance. “Alexander - is everything alright? Did you find something?”

He dropped the stack of documents on the table, pointing to the photos of the two men from the park. “I know who has Madzie and I know who you’ve been looking for, Magnus. These two men belong to the Circle’s new child organization. I know because that’s who took me and held me for a year and when I escaped, I gave them those marks to remember me by. I remember. Maybe not everything, not yet, but I remember.”

[oxenfreewest]

For a lack of better words

An Azul Ashengrotto fanfiction.

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Hi. This fanfiction deals directly with eating disorders in immense detail. I implore you to please not read this if you are actively dealing with an eating disorder, are recovering from one, or are prone to earing disorders. This story deals with restrictive habits as well as bulimic habits as well.(binging and purging)

I am someone who has been suffering from an active eating disorder for the past five years, and took details from my own experiences for this story, because i see a lot of myself in azul and his backstory. Not every eating disorder the same, but this is just one example of how terrifying they can be. 

I want every reader to know that they are perfect. That even if they dont have the body they want or think theyre supposed to have, they deserve love. 

This is no way to live. 

Once again, please do not read this if these are sensitive topics for you. 

Thanks for reading!

Azul Ashengrotto simply did not have the time.

His mind was occupied with frenzied thoughts about school and the lounge and the things he had yet to do or deal with, so azul was completely sewn up. At the moment, he was at his desk in his dorm room dealing with some mostro lounge budget details. It had seen a recent uptick in visitors, which meant that they had some wiggle room to add new menu items. A bead of sweat formed on azuls brow as he looked over the proposed items, his heart skipping a beat. Sometimes, azul felt anxious when making decisions about food, even when they didnt directly affect him. Should he choose the safe option and risk people not liking it? Or pick the more popular option and encourage the unhealthy eating habits of others? 

Well, why did it even matter to him? He would never be the one to eat these things. Best to go with the more popular option. 

Afterwards, it was time for azuls daily fitness tasts. Azul didnt want to build big muscles and become bulky, so his fitness routine consisted of moderate exercises and stretches to keep himself lean and burn calories efficiently. Today he was going on a jog around the campus with deuce, who had put out a flyer for running buddies. Azul had only taken up the offer to have some sort of company while he did his jogging because neither floyd nor jade showed any interest, and he often felt lonely when he was left with his individual thoughts.

He met deuce on the lawn of the recreation field, where he was doing some mild stretches. 

'Im here for our jogging session, are you ready to go?' Azul did some upper body twists and casually looked upon deuce as if it were no big sweat if deuce were ready or not. 

Deuce stood up from his front bend and gave a crooked smile. 'Uhm yeah, im good. Are uou not going to stretch?' 

Azul shook his head. "I walked all the way here, i figure that is plenty stretching. Well, shall we?"

Deuce shrugged, but they took their places and began their moderately paced run around the field. 

 Heres a question for those who are engaged, what happens when you put an asthmatic merman on a jogging course? The worst possible thing. Azul knew that he was asthmatic and knew that he had trouble performing high octane cardio workouts, but he felt troubled. He had a particularly large and guiltful meal last night, and today he was determined to make up for his wrongdoings. So what if he was wheezing and huffing and puffing, he needed to work himself to the bone to make up for his mistakes. He could not afford to slip.

So he continued to jog, which turned into a run, which turned into black spots in his vision, and him opening his eyes go see deuces face hovering over him, eyes as wide as saucers. 

"azul! Youre awake!" He was holding a bottle of water, and thats when azul noticed his face was damp. He sat up quickly, causing an electric buzz rushing up to his head, forcing him to clutch his forehead with his hand. He let out a pained hiss and clenched his eyes shut.

deuce place a hand on his shoulder and leaned over to see his face. "Hey, are you okay? Did you eat anything today?" 

he asked this with a lilt of concern to his voice, and azul snapped his neck to look at him "no, but it should be fine considering how much i ate yesterday, i dont need to eat." He retirted, pointed and prickly in delivery. Deuce winced and laughed neevously "uhm...azul, that was yesterday, this is today. You need to eat every day dude..." 

azul looked away and brought himself to his feet, wobbling a but before he regained his balance. He brushed himself off and sighed. "I should be fine, i just need to get some water." 

deuce still looked concerned,moving forward to say something, but ultimately deciding not to. "Right, well, take care of yourself okay? Im going to finish my run off. Take care." He moved away to start his run up again and azul watched as he did. 

how could he be so weak? To let a little lack of food get to him? He knew there were plenty fat stores in his body to provide him energy, so the fact that he had passed out was not only shameful but also embarrassing. 

well, it was fine, he had somewhere to be anyways.

the only reason he engaged himself in any school activities was for his own benefit, but not in a self growth sort of way, moreso in a profit growth sort of way. For this reason, tonight he was attending the nrc bakesale and crafts fair. He found it quite juvenile of an idea, but he aaw it as an opportunity to broaden his understanding of the student body so that he could better cater to them and draw them into his own business. He decided he would be casual, to give off a friendly air. He was still wearing the best clothes he could manage while staying casual though. A light purple button down and dark wash jeans with a belt.

the event was being held in the cafeteria as it was one of the bigger spaces to set up tables in, with a few tables spilling out to the hallways. As azul approached the event, he felt his chest tighten. Why was he anxious? Because there would be food and baked goods? All he had to do was say no and turn down everything given to him. It was simple, in theory.

he entered the cafeteria and was immediately approached by jade, floyd was elsewhere at this particular moment. Probably eating his way through the baked goods. He waved calmly at azul and gave him a nod "hello Azul, how are you doing?" Azul waved casually and straightened his back. "Im alright. Have you had a look around yet? Anything noteworthy?" Jade nodded and looked over his shoulder. "Theres a few students who are pretty good with their hands, both in craftsmanship and in producing baked goods. Wanna look around?" 

azul nodded and followed behind jade as he took him around to some tables. The first few tables were full of all of the brilliant crafts and wares that the nrc students occupied their free time with perfecting. Clay pieces, wirework and metalsmithing, as well as some pieces of exemplary botany work. Azul took the homemade business cards of a few of the students he saw the most potential in, handing them his as a sign that he saw that potential. 

the next row over was full of much the same brilliant handiwork, but the tables were lines instead with baked goods and other homemade foods. Azul felt his skin prickle as he tried to avoid eye contact with any of the goods directly.

The one thing that made azul feel out of control in this world, was food. And seeing it prostrated on sample trays and in enticing packages made him feel lightheaded. He took a deep breath and continued down the row, acknowledging the talents of his fellow students, but turning down every single advance of a sample towards him. Jade noticed this and turned to azul at the end of the first set of tables. "Are you doing okay? Usually you'd be okay with sampling wares if you felt it could benefit us, and you know we are looking for new items for mostro lounge, so what gives?" Azul simply shrugged and upturned his nose in the opposite direction. "Im simply not hungry at the moment. Ive already eaten today." This was a lie and he knew it was a lie, but he wouldn't dare tell the truth. Jade furrowed his left brow down and then shrugged and continued on. 

Heres another question for the well informed. What happens when you grow up fat, a binge eater, and then as a result of relentless bullying, starve yourself sick and overwork yourself to lose weight just to prove something to the people who bullied you? You grow to hate yourself and food and the world so terribly that the crossroads of those three cause you internal turmoil so fierce that you block it out and call it normal. 

Azul Ashengrotto was not immune to his own self hatred and was not immune to the great suffering that came with it.

"Oh." Jade spoke, breaking azuls dissasociation from his environment 'excuse me, i have to go find my brother." He pointed to his phone, and azul nodded in understanding. 

from here, he was alone. Left to his own devices. He looked around, and felt the world closing in on him as he realized he was still surrounded by the baked goods and foods, the cacophony of scents playing in his nostrils almost caused him to clutch his stomach. The truth is thay he was extremely hungry, but he could not eat.

He could not eat.

so azul turned on his heels, said his goodbyes, and left the cafeteria as fast as he could.

his heart was pounding and his head was spinning. How could he let something as asanine as food control him like this? He knew he was better and stronger than food could ever be, yet still he let it lord over him. He entered his dorm room and grabbed onto his desk chair for stability, as the room was turning circles around him. He fell into the chair and let his head drop into his hands as he tried to regain his composure. He sucked in shallow breaths and held back hot tears. He could NOT cry over this. Not today. Not again. He couldnt let himself falter like this. 

everything in his life was calculated. Everything had to be done for a reason. He was doing this to himself to prove that he wasnt worthless. To prove that he was deserving of recognition and love from others. It was worth it to him. 

but still. Every single day he saw as his friends enjoyed treats with each other, classmates sharing lunches, and envied them. Envied their ability to exist without ever thinking about what they were putting into their bodies. He even deeply envied the twins, as they were always quite lean and slim without needing to even try. Yet azul had to try. He had to keep going the hardest out of everyone because this was the one and only thing that did not come easy to him. 

what did it matter if he didnt love himself? If he had the validation and approval of his peers and the success that he rightfully deserved, then self image need not matter. 

why did it matter??

why. 

and why oh why was he currently silently crying to himself in the solace of his own room, a space that he built around himself to perfection?

why was he letting himself get worked up about this if it didnt matter?

Azul wasn't sleeping. His hunger carved away at him, forcing him to sit up in annoyance. He huffed and looked around, then burned a hole into his wardrobe with his gaze.

He knew what was in there, a stash of food that he kept for himself to binge on and eat when he was feeling especially morose. He leapt from his blanket and pattered to the wardrobe, theowing the doors open in a fervor as he whipped the clothes out and snagged the box he kept the snacks in from the very back of the armoire.

With the box in his lap, he discarded the lid and looked inside. Full to the top with various sweets and salty favours, azuls eyes peeled over the assortment, heart rate increasing as feelings and thoughts flooded his cranial cavity. At last, he shot his hand into the box and pulled out all of the snacks, and in an instant the world pulsated black around him. His chest tightened and his breathing became laboured. 

And he ate. 

He ate everything in the box barely gasping for air as be shoveled down the carb riddled sugar laden processed snacks he kept away for no very good reason. It didnt even taste good. He didnt bave time for taste.

He was ravenous

And then it came, the discomfort, the feeling of dread in his lungs forcing its way out through shakey exhales. He stared down at his hands that were covered in dust and crumbs and morsels of his feast. 

And yet more came after, the pounding self hatred beating his frontal lobe, the pressure behind his eyes, the guilt. 

He could not let this sit.

He jumped to his feet and fled to his bathroom, grabbing his toothbrush from his holder as he slid onto the tiles in front of his bathtub. He folded his arm underneath his ribcage and leaned over the side, immediately a slurry came up his throat and flew past his lips. He adjusted himself to have the perfect calculating throwing up position, and aimed his toothbrush down his asophagus.

Azul was no stranger to this process. Much like everything else in his life he calculated even his purging to a precise math to make sure everything went correctly. He knew the angle to which he held his toothbrush against the back of his throat, where to position his hand against his stomach so that it could not be forced out of contraction, and where to bend his body over the side of his bathtub so that it projected evenly and into the right place. 

and so it went.

For the next thirty minutes azul expelled his binge, tears and snot dripping from his eyes and nose as bile dribbled down the side of his face.

He was exhausted, now from both the lack of adequate nutrients, overworking himself, and spending an extended period of time throwing up his guts. He rested his head on the edge of the tub and let out a loud sigh. 

Slowly, he pulled himself up and hobbled to the sink, where he immediately turned the water on and slurped some water into his mouth, sloshing it around his cheeks before spitting it out and repeating the process, only including a gurgle this timw around. Then, he opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed his real toothbrush, that he only ever used for his teeth, and used water to brush all of the acid off. 

Finally, he washed his face thoroughly, and stared at his blurry reflection in the mirror. It was a good thing he had bad sight, because seeing himself in this moment of vulnerability would probably send him over the edge. 

He sighed.

Azul turned and left his bathroom, then crawled into his bed ans pulled the covers over. Maybe he would finally get some sleep. 

So he closed his eyes and drifted into dreams that will never become a reality. 

He knew in his heart that while today was bad, tomorrow would be worse.

[catncore]

it was a burdensome weight, the effects of that game, but hanekoma had long since assumed it was just how it was. a composer was attached to their city so intimately that even the slightest shift of the soul would cause an imbalance. a composer had to be centered at all times for there to be harmony and contentment with their people. the producer was barred from making any input or suggestions that could influence the city on a core level, which made his and his composers friendship (and later, relationship) a conflict of interest to the rules and to the Higher Plane's regulations.

there was go getting around that. as long as they existed around each other, there would be conflict of interests because of the foundation they existed on.

❝  do you remember when we had our first conversation after everything? our first, real talk. ❞ his hands protectively covered the gold ring around his neck while placing weight on it, making it show with a warm light against his skin. ❝  you pulled my grace from this vessel and trapped it around my neck to level the playing field between us. in anger you collared me with my own grace and told me I was going to serve you for the rest of my existence. ❞

he kept his voice level as he recalled that event. how joshua had been so furious with him that he beat him within lines of code of erasure and that the only place he'd reside at his best was at the composers feet. that joshua was the end all and be all of his existence, not the higher plane.

❝  i could only move with the length of chain you allowed me to. i had to earn your trust again. we talked about everything so much that eventually you could at least understand on a surface level why made decisions i did.... ❞ his breath is slow as he deliberately chooses his words. too many thoughts and too many feelings at once but he forced himself to stay low.

❝  at some point, without me realizing.. that chain that had been keeping me close had been removed and you were letting me explore freely without leaving your side. i know you were testing my loyalty, an' t' see what I would do if I wasn't aware the chain was gone. eventually, i noticed it was gone.... but id found comfort in staying close t' you. and i know you noticed that i knew and you allowed me more space and freedoms than I had prior. ❞

he's quiet for a long moment before he looks to meet joshua's eye, his expression shifting ever so slightly showing hints of confusion and anxiousness. ❝ our relationship shifted then an' while i'm gracious for everythin' you've allowed me t' have.... I don't know if i am still being punished.  ❞

catncore​:

❝  because it is. ❞ because that event was going to be something that lingered over them both reglardless of how badly they wanted to move on. it was a catastrophic event, even with it’s positive outcome. there was damage to both sides and it was going to be a subject that needed to be talked about, to prevent future events like that with communication.

he knew joshua had asked him about it days ago, but the longer he sat thinking about things, the more he needed to talk about it. but that was the problem. there was no one else he could talk to about it. no one who knew how severe it was. it was one of the rare subjects he couldn’t go to his twin about because he wasn’t with him at the time it happened. the actions with joshua were his own.

❝  we’ve come a long way from that time, an’ because of it. i jus’… ❞ he was still punished. being owned on the level joshua claimed him in post with his grace being solidified and worn as a representation- making him effectively as mortal as anyone else around him was a big deal. if anything happened to the gold ring that claimed his neck over the last decade, it was the end of the line. it was no better than erasure- but worse. because it was his code. everything that made him up as an angel was presented in that gold ring. his body might sustain damage but it’d be fine. it was the halo that really defined things.

and it was the halos presence in his daily life that would be an eternal reminder of his actions. that he was punished. somewhere along the way things became more personal between them and he’d gone from being hanekoma sanae the betrayer fallen angel to becoming the composer’s obedient pet. the line got gray and blurred and now he cant tell what side he’s on.

he had questions. so many questions that it made his head swim.

❝  i know….. i am not entitled to answers. an’ if you decide not t’ answer anythin’ thats fine. i get that an’ i’ll respect it. things are better than they were but, i know i’m still technically in th’ dog house. ❞ because you can forgive someone, but it doesn’t technically make things better. made all the worse by the fact he’d not change a fucking thing about what he did if it brought them the same outcome, because the planned outcome was so much worse. so much more finite and horrible.

His bafflement only amplifies with Sanae’s expounding. His brow furrows in concentration, trying to predict the direction of this conversation before the Producer’s even done speaking. There’s a prevalent sense of dread, a pall stretching over them as realization closes in.

They’ve had their fair share of discussions over the Long Game throughout the years. There was the initial blowout, several snippy debates and the occasional softer post-reflection sessions. It was only as recent as a few years ago that Joshua had finally come around to Hanekoma’s reasoning, and truly understood the sincerity in his motives that drove him to the decisions he made. It wasn’t easy for Joshua to detach his personal emotions from the callous facts, but he accepted what happened, and a part of him suspects he might have done similarly. Love wasn’t always soft, was it?

The `betrayal’ arc did mark the turning point in their relationship, and they’d lost trust, which took a long time to rebuild, but despite all the pain from such deep wounds, they’re stronger for it.

Or so Joshua thought. Maybe he mistakenly assumed? When Sanae drops that last word, Joshua’s head whips around so fast his vision blurs for a split second before violet eyes hone in, wide with disbelief.

❝ Doghouse? ❞ The pall settles, and Joshua’s energy shifts just slightly on-edge. ❝ Elaborate. ❞

[pixelmensupremacy]

Ello! Was wondering if you could make a fic of the three RK boys! Connor, Sixty and Nines fighting over the readers attention while the reader just enjoys whatever is happening. Also the reader acts oblivious on purpose to mess with them. You could add abit more to it!

A/N: I am so incredibly sorry I took that long. I didn't feel like writing and this is absolutely the best I could do.

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Not proofread, GN!reader, idiots in love

It was selfish, but the immense amounts of attention they received brought to them a satisfactory warming feeling that stroked their ego to an amount they couldn’t get enough of.

Having the three most advanced androids in the world practically wrapped around their finger was very flattering itself, although it didn’t help they were equally gorgeous. Despite being almost identical to one another, (Y/N) was attracted to each of them in a different way. Connor’s soft-spoken nature and warm exterior had their heart melting, Nines’ cool façade and icy gaze sent chills down their spine, and Sixty’s fiery personality and mischief, hidden behind his eyes, had them on the edge. Overall, even if they wanted to, they couldn’t bring themselves to choose who they wanted most and quite frankly they have been avoiding making such a decision for as long as they could.

The competition for their attention had become a part of their everyday life. From competing who will get (Y/N)’s morning coffee to who spends most time with them; they were used to it so much so they found it a tad bit annoying. Nevertheless their heart melted at the boys’ attempts to draw them in- the boys’ charm was one of (Y/N)’s only weaknesses.

Taking a sip of the steaming coffee, (Y/N) wasn’t surprised to see the two RK800 models entering the break room just a few minutes after they did.

“Good morning, Detective. I’ve done your reports and organized your desk, so you wouldn’t be occupied with excessive tasks.” Connor explained matter-of-factly, meanwhile, Sixty rolled his eyes.

“Thank you, Connor, but you really didn’t have to.” (Y/N) gave him a guilty, yet appreciative smile.

“I sincerely hope my predecessor doesn’t cause you any discomfort, since he’s clearly inexperienced in the field courtship.” A proud smirk emerged on Sixty’s face meanwhile, Connor fell silent; his eyes widened and his cheeks were dusted with faint traces of blue blush.

“Hello, Detective.” Nines entered the room only eyeing his predecessors before continuing with what was the ultimate reason for him to be there. “I received a new assignment from Fowler himself. A robbery has been reported 15 minutes ago, and we are assigned to investigate the case.”

“Duty calls.” (Y/N) sighed, leaving their coffee behind with a look of disappointment.

Arriving at the crime scene, (Y/N) cautiously approached the lonely building the suspect had been seen entering.

“Detective, let me enter first. The perimeter is at high risk of collapsing, plus the suspect is affirmed to be armed. There’s 78% your life will be extremely endangered if you enter.” Nines spoke in an analytical manner that was in total contrast to the dim flash of worry, well hidden behind his piercing icy irises- yet (Y/N) couldn’t care less.

“Then I’ll take my chances.” They gave him a daring smile before entering the building. Inside the lonely grey walls were covered in abstract street art, each piece representing a different world, the floor was littered with traces of the aftermath of one hopeless and miserable life; plastic wraps and glass cracked under the impact of Nines’ swift steps.

A sudden crashing sound alerted the two detectives. With their guns pointed in the direction the sound came from, they carefully approached a suspicious-looking room. Nines took the lead, gently pushing (Y/N) aside as he busted the door open, almost completely demolishing it in the process. Inside, they was no one in sight.

“Just our luck-“ From behind a strong force caused them to lose balance. Clashing on the ground, (Y/N) was facing the suspect. Kicking him in his groin, they were able to break free and disarm the man, leaving him defenseless underneath him.

Stunned by the suddenness of the events that took place right before his eyes, Nines stood silently, his LED dancing in multiple colors as his CPU still tried to process what he just witnessed- he had never seen (Y/N) in such light.

“Earth to Nines.” (Y/N) raised their voice, successfully anchoring his attention. “Maybe help me a bit, would you?”

Back at the DPD, (Y/N) and the RK boys stood in the observation room, occasionally glancing at the criminal from the comfort of the one-way mirror.

“I’m heading in to question the suspect.” Nines announced but was stopped in his tracks by (Y/N)’s voice.

“Hands off he’s mine.” They winked at the RK900, causing his LED to flicker in yellow.

“That’s what I like about them.” Sixty spoke up only to receive glares from both Nines and Connor.

Sitting opposite the suspect, (Y/N) introduced themselves though the man remained silent. He fidgeted with his fingers, his leg was bouncing, things they didn’t fail to notice. “What makes a handsome man like yourself steal?” (Y/N) raised their brow at the man in a teasing manner, in an attempt to ease the man into a more relaxed state- it appeared to be working.

“You wouldn’t believe what a man is capable of doing when it comes to their partner.” The guy let out a tired sigh, almost causing (Y/N) to feel sympathy for the guy though they knew better.

“Didn’t know girls were still into bad boys.” His lips curled into a wicked grin.

Behind the mirror, the three boys observed closely. Connor caught his bottom lip between his teeth, his fingers fidgeted with his coin- he wasn’t a fan of how the interrogation was going, yet Sixty’s and Nines’ displeasure was more apparent. Sixty’s jaw was clenched, the muscles connecting his defined cheekbones to his sharp jawline flexed under the impact of his anger-fueled reaction meanwhile, Nines’ fingers were tightly squeezed into a knuckle-whitening fist. Luckily for the three of them, after what seemed like hours, the interrogation was over.

Outside the interrogation room, (Y/N) was met with the ocean of emotions that were the boys’ gazes that pierced right through them.

“I am so ready for the lunch break.” A self-satisfied smile curled the corners of their lips, but there was no response. An awkward silence fell upon the four of them. A playful spark flashed in the (E/C) of their eyes.

“Are you three jealous?” The androids simultaneously froze in place, and errors clogged their CPUs. (Y/N) couldn’t help, but giggle. They absolutely loved how much of an effect they had on the boys.

[haik-choo]

I don't write cause I feel I don't have a good grasp on the characters personalities etc, the characterisation of akaashi post is so helpful! 👀👀 Would you do kuroo or bokuto?

a/n: I hope you like both of these! again, if yall want me to do others, let me know! these are across the span of their life, so some may seem college-related and some may seem young-adulty! 

[MISCHARACTERIZATIONS OF BOKUTO AND KUROO]

bokuto kotaro.

clueless: i’ve stated this in akaashi’s post, but bokuto is extremely emotionally intelligent. he can pick up on the slightest changes in people’s demeanor or posture, he can tell if someone is sad or happy even if they aren’t good at displaying emotions. he’s not a dumbass -- and he can pick up on others’ limits and boundaries very quickly. despite his ability to read people relatively well, he has no qualms about pushing people out of their comfort zones and forcing them to do things they might hate at first, but will love later. he pushes boundaries according to your comfort level, and respects your hard limits. 

only positive: a lot of people write bokuto to be someone ho’s only happy-go-lucky, or someone who rarely gets sad (aside from his moods that are less sad and more discouraged), but I think that almost dehumanizes him. he gets back up faster than most, yes, and at the end of a lost game where everyone is crying, bokuto is dry-eyed. he’s the type to get home and plop down on his bed, face-first into his pillow, lips quivering and eyes lightly watering. there are times where he feels insecure, especially when he’s younger, just because he can tell he’s different from the rest. he has a feeling that people are put-off from his personality, he has a feeling that he’s not as (traditionally/academically) smart as everyone else, he has a feeling that some people find him annoying. that’s why when he’s near his close friends he’s very loose -- he doesn’t feel the need to hold back even a little because he knows that they love him for him. this translates to his toxic trait with his lover being that he feels dejected/insecure if you ever want space. while he can read boundaries, he would really benefit from a lover who has just as few as he, because then he can be his truest self.

love-at-first-sight: he’s not the type to fall in love at one glance, he’s just not. yes, he might get interested or you may catch his attention, but he’s not going to fall in love with someone because they have a pretty smile. it’s not that he’s calculated or over-thinks his emotions, he knows exactly what he feels, it’s just that his heart is a little slow when it comes to falling in love. he’s such an energetic all-over-the-place person that love is never really on his mind (he gets into some trouble with accidentally leading girls on because he’s so friendly). when he eventually falls in love, though....oh boy. he stutters, he’s over-thinking all his movements when it comes to you -- he’s usually impulsive but with you he really, really doesn’t want to screw up. he wants everything to go smoothly -- so he’s the type to plan out a confession and actually try to stick to it. when it comes to something like love, bokuto is surprisingly slow and careful, because he knows how fragile a heart is. 

never gets angry: i think most people like to imagine his anger is so rare because the image of an angry bokuto is scary, especially with his stature. and while it’s true his anger is uncommon (because he’s good at processing his own emotions and not lashing out at others), when he does get angry it can be pretty unnerving. he’s the type to slam his fist on the counter unknowingly when having a really bad fight with his lover, and he has a booming voice. he’d never hit someone, but he doesn’t realize how intimidating his physique is. anger is uncommon, but that doesn’t mean he’s not scary. he always apologize afterwards, though.

boundless confidence: i touched on it earlier, that he has bouts of insecurity, but again, i really want to emphasize that he’s not endlessly confident. honestly, maybe in the anime and manga he seems that way, but if you want to make him more human, have more life than a fictional character, you have to create limits or certain traits. bokuto is very sensitive, and the slightest thing can either inflate his ego or deflate it. plays in volleyball constantly not working may dig at his confidence, but he always re-inflates. in real life, outside the court, there are things that keep his confidence low everytime they happen. fights with his lover are one of these things; he’ll get jealous when they leave the apartment after a fight because he’ll worry about you finding someone more stable than him. jealousy alone is a solid sign of chipped confidence, something that someone as sensitive as bokuto gets every once in a while. 

overall, bokuto is a lot more intelligent than what people give him credit for. he’s honest with his own emotions and can read people very well, which is probably why he’s such a people person, but he still has flaws. he does not have boundless confidence or have no perception of boundaries; he’s unbelievably understanding. he may be initially insecure, have intimidating anger, etc. but ,after all, he’s human, isn’t he? 

kuroo tetsuro. 

sex god: don’t get me wrong, I definitely believe that he’s had a lover or two, especially in college, and that he’s played the field a little bit. but i don’t see him as the guy that has had sex with every person in his major. he’s a genuine guy and can’t have sex with someone he’s not emotionally invested in -- despite not being a ‘player’, he’s totally gotten in trouble with a few people because they think he��s leading them on when he walks with them to class everyday. 

intimidating: people always characterize him as this mysterious, sexually intimidating guy, but i just can’t see him as someone intimidating. if anything, he may be a little unapproachable because he has a really tight knit group of friends that he’s always with, but he’s not scary. he’s not the center of attention but he’s not a wallflower either, he enjoys observing people and watching drama play out, but he’s not silent and glaring all the time. he’s quite fun, he’s loud, and he enjoys embarrassing his friends in public. he’s the type to twerk in public and laugh his ass off when akaashi or kenma give him the side-eye and bro-kuto joins in. he likes to have fun, ya know? i don’t know about you, but a guy that twerks in public isn’t very scary, to me at least. 

prideful: I understand why people paint him as a prideful guy, he obviously likes what he does and has a personable personality, but honestly, he’s not perfect. he often has moments where he doubts himself because of his past decisions, his career one of them. kuroo is an amazing middle blocker, and his choice to go into sports advertisement rather than an actual volleyball league no doubt haunts him at night sometimes. he thinks of the ‘what-ifs’, and he dreams of what he could be. especially since his best friend is bokuto, a professional player, it’s often on his mind. it’s a super touchy subject for him, and if someone were to question his job-choice i have no doubt that he’d get really sour and distant from that person because he’s not sure of himself either. 

frat boy: he’s not someone who can’t cook, he’s not someone who sleeps at 5am everyday, hungover. he’s not the type of person to be immature in any way -- he’s got his shit together. i’m sure most people can actually see this, but kuroo is very responsible and realistic (which is part of the reason he didn’t do professional volleyball). he does his taxes, does his homework, gives out good advice, gets up early and eats everything that a healthy person should eat (in all the right proportions, too). he doesn’t even drink often, if anything he’s just a social drinker. he goes to bed at 10pm and wakes up at 6am to work out, no joke. he’s gotta keep that physique somehow. 

decisive: i know i said he’s responsible, but i don’t think that translates to decisive. i can see him having a lot of conflicting things going on in his life, different wants and different paths that he wants to take but can’t keep all open. it happens in love, his career, his college major, etc. he wants a lot in life, he wants success, happiness, a good love-life, everything. when he had to choose between volleyball and a life-long, stable career, he was broken for weeks. was he good enough for his dream? was it wise to chase his dream? would it be better to get more kids into volleyball, do what he did, what he couldn’t do? in his love life he always hesitates, too: does he see a life with them? how long will they love him? will they be able to deal with him once they see that he’s not perfect? is it worth it? it doesn’t matter if he’s in love or not, because his extreme caution can come off as very distant and unwilling to let you in, hence his toxic trait. he’s indecisive, scared, yet passionate and hard-working. 

overall, kuroo is full of contradiction. he wants a lot from life and is willing to work for it. he has dreams and tries to stay healthy and put himself out there, have fun, the whole shabang -- but he’s not perfect. he’s overly cautious when it comes to making important decisions simply because he can see a future with all of the different paths he can take. but honestly, isn’t everyone a little contradictory?