#((Ignore me. I'm just rambling because I'm distraught ^^;))

[thewallshaveeyes]

I took a stab at drawing the goat's narinder (pupinder? Naripup?) And came up with this. Him being a samoyed just feels right to me. But tbh? I have NO CLUE what to do with the bishops (random ramblings below the cut)

So like. Pup narinder, I imagine him as being the bishop of life and light, and being just super sweet. And the thing is, I imagine he says pretty much the same stuff Narinder does, but the way he words it gives it an ENTIRELY different meaning.

"I still have need of you" -> implies that the lamb is a tool for Narinder to use. He can't throw them away just yet, because there is still some use left in them. Defines them by their usefulness

"I still require your services" -> puts more value on the goat's abilities to act if that makes sense. Acknowledges that the goat is a being that is capable of making decisions on its own and puts trust in the idea that it'll use its abilities to help him. Defines it by its autonomy.

i also imagine him talking about sacrifice in a much different way. Instead of seeing sacrifice as cashing in souls like currency, I feel like he'd see it as a mercy. "Why allow your followers to slowly work themselves to death, living in pain and fatigue until they give out, when you can offer them a smooth transition into the afterlife?"

Also because of this personality swap, the idea of him betraying his siblings out of pride doesn't make as much sense. What do I propose, then? Easy! As the bishop of light and life, he couldn't stand to see followers suffering for any slight against his siblings, so he took those in who needed respite. He offered an oasis to those unfaithful to his siblings, and when that happened, his siblings got PISSED because they saw that as him stealing their followers. So, they tried to confront him and take back their followers, only for narinder to defend his followers by maiming his siblings. This caused the others to chain him up in the gateway and either sacrifice or convert the rest of his followers.

Now, with all of this, I have several ideas for the bishops but can't really use them all.

Idea 1: Domain swap. Everything stays pretty much the same except for their domains (and consequently their colors). Heket would be plague, Leshy would be war, Shamura famine, and Kallamar chaos. (Honestly zero clue what to do with the colors OR crowns for that matter. Keep the same crowns? Crowns change colors, too??? -\('–')/-)

Idea 2: Species swap. They turn into slant-variants of each of their species (which changes their colors, too). Heket could be a frog, maybe Leshy is an isopod or something, Kallamar would be an octopus (duh), and Shamura could maybe be a bat?? Centipede?? (Thinkin of something that lives in a cave maybe. Scorpion?)

Idea 3: Domain inversion. This could work in tandem with the previous one but anyways. Idea being that their domains invert (just like Narinder's) which causes personality changes. Leshy could be the bishop of order, causing him to be a MASSIVE control freak who panics when the goat comes back (making him more cowardly like Kallamar). Heket could be the bishop of gluttony, causing her to give the goat more of the benefit of the doubt (making her more understanding like Shamura). Kallamar could be the bishop of vitality, seeing the goat as nothing more than an insignificant worm and underestimating its power (making him more assured like Leshy). Shamura could be the bishop of stagnation/sloth, dissuaded and distraught by the goat's challenge to the old faith (making them more vengeful like Heket).

Of the ideas, I'm most attached to the third. Plus with the personality swaps, their injuries could also swap. Heket could be think no evil since she was the most open-minded, Shamura could be see no evil because they were ignorant to the world around them, Leshy could be hear no evil since he refused to give anyone else a voice, and Kallamar could be speak no evil since he was a loudmouth.

What are we thinking, chat? Thoughts? Comments? Ideas?

Aside/edit: with idea #3 (which I'm more and more attached to as I write this), that could be interesting bcs it would recontextualize each bishops' patterns in their boss fights.

Take Kallamar for example. For the lamb, he is terrified of fighting them, which is seen when he pretty much just button mashes doing everything he can to keep that fuckin thang away from him. You can tell that he's panicking during the boss fight from how erratic his movement is. But in the goat's universe, Kallamar's fighting style could be indicative of his disregard for the goat's existence, moreso swatting him away like a pesky mosquito. Inversely, Leshy's fight with the lamb not only shows that he has no clue what the fuck he's doing, but that he doesn't think the lamb does, either. He doesn't even try to hit the lamb physically until well into the battle. For the goat, however, this could be out of fear. Leshy is terrified of the goat, trying as hard as possible to avoid it until he desperately resorts to smacking it around just to kill it. I know that none of this has any bearing on what we see of the goat in the lamb's cult, but it could help explain some of the confusion the goat experiences when it interacts with the lamb's bishops for the first time.

[richie-shitlips]

Why I think Thomas Thorne has NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder): A character study

so I've been researching NPD because I think I have it, and I realised that A LOT of the symptoms also fit Thomas (who I named myself after!) So I'm going symptom by symptom and doing my best to analyse his actions. Some of this is coherent, some of it is just rambling- but I hope this makes sense! (thank you @loganschwarzy and @isopodonanescalator for reading this over text and agreeing with me)

• Have an unreasonably high sense of self-importance and require constant, excessive admiration.

...look at him. he goes as far to say that famous poet lord byron plagiarised HIS work. he sulks when he's not given attention. he gets upset when alison's (unfinished) painting doesn't do him justice. in his own retelling of his death, he reports the announcer calling him britain's greatest living poet.

• Feel that they deserve privileges and special treatment.

i don't have particular evidence for this one off the top of my head but like there are definitely instances of it in the show. like on christmas when he's obsessed with getting alison to kiss him (which is impossible) or the whole thing with the plague ghosts in S4E1 (i think that's what episode it was)... i guess i did have evidence.

• Expect to be recognized as superior even without achievements.

LITERALLY WHAT HE DOES

• Make achievements and talents seem bigger than they are.

once again, just look at him. he writes one (1) poem and thinks it's the greatest thing in the world

• Be preoccupied with fantasies about success, power, brilliance, beauty or the perfect mate.

watch The Thomas Thorne Affair, his spin on the story is WILDLY different from everyone else's, making himself seem successful and well-loved despite actually being the opposite- and he seems to actually believe it! and he thinks that alison is secretly in love with him for a good portion of the show

• Believe they are superior to others and can only spend time with or be understood by equally special people.

i think if he does have an EP (equal person), it's probably pat, as he's the only one who thomas actually genuinely treats like a person and not just a means to get love or attention. i also like to think around season 5 he starts to see kitty as an equal as well, but i've gotta rewatch it to see if that's got basis or if im just a shipper

• Be critical of and look down on people they feel are not important.

i don't remember any specific instances, but he's constantly criticising the other ghosts and other poets (in the book he annotates lord byrons poetry and makes fun of him)

• Expect special favors and expect other people to do what they want without questioning them.

this is less so i think but like it's definitely still there you can see it if you pay attention

• Take advantage of others to get what they want.

he plagiarises. a lot.

and also the whole "Balderdash, I could thrash you all at twist-it then run a mile!" seems like he was planning to use the others losing to impress alison

• Have an inability or unwillingness to recognize the needs and feelings of others.

while alison never explicitly tells him to fuck off, her annoyance is obvious (although she also LOVES the attention and gets distraught when he ignores her) and he never seems to notice

i think something that could also count is when mary moves on he only thinks about himself and worries that he'll move on before making an impact on the world (DESPITE ALREADY BEING DEAD)

• Be envious of others and believe others envy them.

he is soooooo jealous of mike and toby despite never having a chance with alison in the first place. and he definitely thinks the other ghosts are (or should be) jealous of him- just look at how he talks to them

• Behave in an arrogant way, brag a lot and come across as conceited.

he talks himself up SO MUCH

• Insist on having the best of everything — for instance, the best car or office.

the whole thing with the painting again- alison paints him, and he sees it before it's done (snuck a peek even though he was told not to) and he thinks the unfinished painting looks ugly and freaks out over how to tell alison he doesn't like it and wishes it was better (and then changes his mind as soon as he sees the finished version!)

• Become impatient or angry when they don't receive special recognition or treatment.

the whole thing with Life of Byron, where he gets upset when he's told to be quiet because the cameras are on (and upset that he can't be alison's free pass despite not knowing her when her and mike got married)

• Have major problems interacting with others and easily feel slighted.

there are definitely instances of him thinking others are playing him, mainly alison. but also he was actually manipulated and played (which led to his death) by his cousin who he obviously trusted with his life, which could contribute to that distrust as well

• React with rage or contempt and try to belittle other people to make themselves appear superior.

when cap tells him he's not as big a deal as he's acting in S4E1, he kinda blows up on him

once again, when told he's just scared he'll lose twister, he blows up and claims he can win easily then run a mile

• Have difficulty managing their emotions and behavior.

goes from calmly explaining why he's upset to "I'm going to drown myself in the lake!" and storming off in like 0.2 seconds

• Experience major problems dealing with stress and adapting to change.

also the whole thing with mary, i think. and we kinda see when the builders are there, he gets writers block and can't focus on his "work", which i can see as having trouble adapting to change

• Withdraw from or avoid situations in which they might fail.

he doesn't tend to do this as much, instead favouring to boast that he'll succeed and then sulk when he fails

• Feel depressed and moody because they fall short of perfection.

ONCE AGAIN HE THREATENS TO DROWN HIMSELF IN THE LAKE CAUSE HES REMINDED OF A MAN WHOS BEEN DEAD FOR LIKE 200 YEARS THAT WAS BETTER THAN HIM AT POETRY

• Have secret feelings of insecurity, shame, humiliation and fear of being exposed as a failure.

this definitely happens, i can't think of a ton of evidence though

but he's constantly put down by the other ghosts and i dont think thats fair. the times we actually see him cool off and act like he's not above the other people are when they're not putting him down- and as soon as he's praised in that scene, he starts trying to play up the success by trying to write more (and shittier) poetry to get more praise (talking about when him and alison are watching the sunrise, i don't remember the episode)

in conclusion, thomas thorne is a narcissist in canon, it just hasn't been explicitly stated. thank you for coming to my TOM talk (my dad told me to say that)

TL;DR: no go back and read it i worked hard on this and i need you to agree (or just read the paragraph above this, i guess 😒)

[spiteful-crow]

Ok, but what if

Jon is NOT gone.

I described in length here why I don't think Jon reintegrated into Sherlock's psyche at the end of Chapter One and how I think he is just gone.

However, there is an additional theory I have and I would like to talk about. So what if Jon is gone but not GONE gone?

This rambling is based on overthinking every line in these games, so keep that in mind as you continue reading. Also, I'm likely coping very hard here because I love Jon with all my heart.

First and foremost, I will treat Jon as a sentient being here. I imagine Sherlock and Jon like two flowers planted in one pot. Jon is a personification of Sherlock's love for life and himself; still, Jon is portrayed as having a consciousness. He not only has his own opinions and personality, he also has feelings. E.g. he describes the feeling of being ignored by Sherlock as a "punch in the gut ", he experiences anxiety when forced to face the nature of his existence, etc.

To explain why I don't think Jon vanished completely, I will start by explaining how I read the events of Chapter One from Jon's perspective.

Sherlock created Jon because he was lonely; he wanted to be happy and loved, so he placed his own self-love into Jon and made him his biggest fan and a neverending source of motivation to pursue the more fun parts of life. Jon provided a certain balance in Sherlock's life and also acted as his moral compass. However, Jon struggled with the nature of his existence from the very beginning. The memory at the theatre shows him being distraught by the audience's inability to see him. He refuses to keep this memory; even when he and Sherlock recall it ten years later, he never addresses it in his diary. He jokes about how excellent his performance was, but he is in denial that it ever happened the way it happened. The memories hurt Jon, who feels like a real person but never gets to live as one. The only thing in Jon's life that affirms that he exists at all is Sherlock, and it's a great source of anxiety to depend on someone so completely. 

During Chapter One, we witness the impact Sherlock's memories have on Jon. He asks Sherlock twice to let it go because the memories hurt him, and they hurt him because he exists to love and protect Sherlock. Therefore, Jon's whole purpose is threatened if Sherlock refuses to be protected by him; in a way, if Sherlock chooses to remember and, therefore, be hurt, he rejects everything Jon stands for, everything he was created for.

And yes, I'm convinced Jon mostly cares for Sherlock's well-being, but he isn't entirely selfless either. There isn't a conscious being that can be entirely selfless. He is in the unique position in which every single action of another person is directly tied to him and affects him. Every time Sherlock chooses not to listen to him, his role in Sherlock's life becomes more and more unsteady, which terrifies him. They can't be close and united if they don't share the same values. I think the worst thing that could happen to Jon is to end up being irrelevant and ignored by Sherlock, but being forced to continue existing regardless.

Now, I will just post this journal entry, which Jon writes if Sherlock ends up killing someone.

This is how this reads to me: Jon can't bear watching Sherlock become a murderer, but he is not only concerned for Sherlock; he also doesn't want to feel the pain of watching Sherlock change like this. He doesn't want Sherlock to alienate himself from him. This is what I mean when I say that Jon is not selfless. He doesn't want Sherlock to be hurt, but he doesn't want to hurt either. Another thing I see here is him posing the question if the has a choice, and at least at this point, we can conclude that the answer is no. This is an important point for this post.

Now, I will come to the end of the game. After Sherlock enters the garden and begins regaining his memories, we have yet another scene of Jon begging Sherlock to talk to him and saying he is scared.

I think this shows pretty well how anxious he is about becoming irrelevant or even invisible to Sherlock. The end scene in the garden is everything Jon fears slowly coming true. And it doesn't end there. No, it culminates with Sherlock denying to acknowledge Jon as a person.

And this, in my opinion, is the moment Jon knew he wants to disappear. He barely interacts with Sherry after this, except for asking why Mycroft is there after Mycroft poses the question if "Jon is worth it". We still don't know what Mycroft means, but it's implied he thinks Jon isn't worth "it", which is kinda rubbing more salt into Jon's wound haha :'). Hell, Jon doesn't even intervene in the scene where Sherlock pulls a gun on his brother, he stays on the bench.

As I said in my previous post, I see all four endings as bitter. Even in the two endings in which you blame Otto, the last interaction between Sherlock and Jon lacks the usual warmth between them. I think it's because Jon is quite bitter himself. He is hurting a lot. He tries to reminisce about their times together and says his life hasn't been wholly in vain, but he is just done with it at this point. He is leaving, but not only for Sherlock's sake; he is leaving because he can't bear the pain of staying with Sherlock after being called a lie by him, especially because Sherlock hates lies. Jon has protected Sherlock for years, but Sherlock thinks it was wrong, and Jon's whole purpose is put into question. Sherlock has always been the only person to believe in Jon, and from Jon's perspective, he no longer does.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think he leaves out of spite. I simply think he'd rather vanish than feel obsolete.

I think this post is getting rather long, so I will just get to the point. Why do I think Jon is not GONE gone? Because he implied he has no choice than to witness what's happening to Sherlock, no matter how much it hurts him. And because Sherlock keeps addressing him during The Awakened in a way that suggests, that he still might be somewhere.

Yes, Sherlock misses Jon and he is desperate, so him talking to Jon shouldn't mean much in this regard, but still, Sherlock doesn't seem to believe that Jon is gone.

He seems to believe that Jon is still watching him from somewhere (from Heaven? Why are you looking at the ceiling, Sherry?) and is fully able to make an appearance and "intervene" if he wants to. Of course, Sherlock doesn't know everything, but honestly, I agree with him. Because why would Jon have the ability to erase himself from existence? If he could simply erase things, he would have likely erased Sherlock's memories of Violet's death. However, he has the ability to conceal things, like memories, so it's not unlikely that he can conceal himself too.

I think Jon is still somewhere deep inside Sherlock's mind. We already know he can disappear whenever something makes him uncomfortable (like Dilwyn), so I'd like to think that he disappeared in the same way during the ending too. I think he is dormant right now. And he is hurt. But he is there. I don't think Jon can die unless Sherlock dies.

[hurryupmerlin]

My beloved Mal belongs to @riinoaheartilly

_______________

"How many sex partners did you have?" Mal asks while his hand draws lazy circles on Ami's bare shoulder.

It's a good time to ask things that would otherwise never be addressed. Heads still woozy with happiness and systems flooded with cuddle hormones so soon after their interlude makes for loose tongues.

"You tell first."

"When I was younger, a couple guys in the showers,” Mal muses. “Nothing serious; we had no idea what we were doing. After the war started I had a guy I met up with every now and then. Hated his guts but he knew how to get the job done."

"How could you sleep with someone you hated?"

Mal shrugs nonchalantly.

"We weren't allowed to stab each other. Had to find a way to resolve our conflicts differently."

"But you liked it?"

"Admittedly." He smirks. "What about you, what's your body count?"

Looking up at the ceiling, Ami answers after a few seconds of reflection: "Sex partners... Just you."

Mal's hand stops its monotonous circular movement and withdraws. He exhales audibly through his nose. For a moment he considers ignoring the statement and moving over to the next topic, but then he speaks out loud what he had been thinking way too often since he met Ami:

"Why do you always lie to me?"

He's used to Ami avoiding the truth, but he can't stop the disappointment from dripping from his every syllable.

In Ami's ears, the accusation rings even worse. He avoids Mal's gaze.

"I'm not lying," he asserts.

But maybe he should've lied. Should've said any number worthy of a nod and a chuckle. Should've made something up about a girl back home or another slave in the camp. Should've let Mal think that he had learned taking dick like everyone else did and that he'd just always been blessed with so little gag reflex, no story behind that.

A tight knot forms in his stomach. He doesn't want to talk about it, but he doesn't want to lie to Mal either. Now he regrets that he didn't stop the question in the first place. He wanted to know more about Mal and that lured him in. Perhaps Mal would have been ready for the second round already, that certainly would've distracted him enough from digging any deeper. Anyway, it's too late now.

Mal just shakes his head.

"Thought we were over hiding our pasts from each other. My mistake."

"Mal...," Ami tries again, struggling for words.

"Never mind," Mal says dismissively and straightens up. The worst thing about it, Ami figures, is that he doesn't even seem angry. Just done.

Mal swings his legs over the edge of the bed, about to leave and Ami sits up quickly, rocks forward and presses his face against Mal's back, wrapping his arms around his lover's hips.

Mal stills and hangs his head.

"I'm sorry," Ami mumbles against Mal's warm skin. "It's– I– I don't want to talk about... It's hard for me to talk about some things."

"That's okay." A cybernetic hand tenderly comes to rest over Ami's. "Don't worry, I still love you."

Being able to hide behind Mal without having to look him in the eye helps.

"I know what you think." Ami can't help the tremor in his voice. What he says next feels like chewing glass. "But lying on your back crying, while someone forces themself in... that isn't sex. Sucking a dick because you're so hungry you already fainted twice that day and desperately want to earn a treat isn't sex."

His voice breaks.

"But Mal, I love you. When I'm sleeping with you it's because I want you. Your kisses make me hard, and I can't get enough of your hands. And the way you say my name... makes it sound like an endearment instead of an insult."

He had hoped he could finish his monologue with a bit of dignity, but no. The tears find their way out and Ami's words crumble into sobs under the strain. The way he's crying now, he's too distraught to filter what comes next as he rambles on:

"And... sometimes you make me laugh while we're at it, how insane is that? I never even knew that was possible. Gosh, when– when you touch me, it feels so right. In my book, that is sex. And I only had sex with you, Mal. No one else."

Mal doesn't move or speak for a whole agonizing minute, just squeezes the hand under his.

He finds it difficult to unpack and sort everything that Ami has served him. The meaning of what he has just learned creeps into him like smoke into lungs. It constricts his throat, sharp-edged and indigestible.

Eventually he says a quiet "I'm sorry."

A multitude of grief and shame hangs in the air, heavy and dark. After all of Ami's words, he feels as if he's supposed to say more, balance it out, and do some healing. But words fail him.

"Only you," Ami says weakly, like a mantra, as his lips graze over the ridges of Mal's spine.

Mal's reply is quiet and soft: "Only you."

[abrushwithdeath]

((So last night was one of the worst nights of my life and I’m currently running on MAYBE 3 hours of sleep because I just can’t seem to let my mind calm down. When I tell you that my cats are my babies, I mean it. I’ve had them since they were itty bitty. And Leia, in particular, was my baby. She’s always clung to me and snuggled with me and been affectionate with me, even when she was too anxious to be that close with anyone else. I’m not trying to be dramatic, but I felt my whole world just... implode in on me yesterday and even with distractions it’s just been a constant aching. Her brother, Luke, I think has only just started to realize that something’s wrong and that’s breaking my heart all over, because he’s been wandering up and down the hall crying and coming to me, not for pets and affection like usual, but to lead me out to the living room like he wants me to look for her with him and I’m just... I’m not okay. The concert on Tuesday was one of the best days of my life. And now I’m sitting here living through the grief of one of the worst and this whole week has felt like the worst rollercoaster ride ever. Anyway- Our (my sister’s and my) friend, who had just left on Thursday, made the 5+ hour drive back here last night to be with us because she’s literally the sweetest person ever and she knows how important our kitties are to us. Even our dad is making the 2 hour drive up to see us today because he’s concerned. Our sister was going to come with him, but her husband had minor surgery yesterday and can’t be left alone to watch the kids (which is understandable and she’s also the one who stayed on the phone with us for 2 or so hours last night while we all but had full mental breakdowns). So despite all the awful of it, it’s nice to know that we have people who understand just how important our kitty was to us. Like, I know some people would just be like “Sorry, that’s a bummer” and then, beyond that, not care because it was just a pet. But, like, I hate that. I hate when people are like “it’s just a pet” because to me it’s never been that way; they’re family. We buy our cats Christmas and birthday presents, give them extra treats on Halloween like they’re little trick or treaters. Everything. She was a whole little life with a personality (bratty, talkative, sassy, independent as heck, goofy, snuggly) and favorite foods (she never cared for fish or seafood, but chicken was her favorite) and a favorite toy (a little pink bunny that she’s toted around with her since she was a baby). She liked being carried around in fabric grocery bags (especially the small blue ones from walmart) because she was little and she liked to be tall and lazy and she’d lie there with her little head sticking out of the bag all excited to be carried around. And she’d sit on the back of the couch and try to climb on my shoulder if I had ANY food because she always insisted that she was starving. And I’m gonna miss her talking back whenever I spoke to her, because neither of our other cats do that. And her high pitched lil yell when she wanted your attention. Or stepping out of my room in the morning to her sitting at the end of the hall, ready to lead me to the treat drawer in the kitchen. And I’m gonna miss trying to go to sleep and her climbing onto my chest and repeatedly rubbing her head against my face for, like, 5 minutes of snuggles and kisses before she’d finally lay down and go to sleep. And the fact that she’s the only cat I’ve ever had who has insisted on playing in your hair after a shower. She’s not gonna crawl under my blankets this winter and snuggle against my thigh bc she hates the cold. I just miss her so much. And I’m still in shock and I just... I dunno. Everything feels really wrong right now and I hate knowing that I’m not gonna look up from my laptop and see her standing in my doorway, waiting for me to call her to come into my room for pets. I can’t believe I’m never gonna get to hold her again or boop her nose again or anything. It doesn’t feel real and I’m in a place I haven’t been in years and it’s... it’s not great. But we’re going to take her to get her cremated so we can keep her with us. And I’m just gonna be offline for a while today, but will gladly welcome distractions later tonight. 

TL;DR: Last night one of my kitties passed away and I’m not doing so great so I just rambled about how much I love her and idk, I kinda don’t know how to cope.))

[travelling-on-the-octopath]

I just read "Ossification". The title is thoughtful and perfect for the story. But I love the opening. Let me just gush about the opening.

The rambling about the semantics of his haunting office decor was just so Claude - obsessing at the finer details to make. It also sets the grim tone of him in the middle of losing his head in a downward spiral post-GW.

The symbolism of the stag is quite powerful too. I interpreted it as his conscience dead but lingering - judging his every action and reminding him of how much of a failure he is being.

It's a sad detail that he's drinking. It felt like he is starting to abuse alcohol to drown all of the stress he is experiencing.

It's morbidly amusing how the war is going for him. Adrestia was held at bay but definitely recuperating for another round. Faerghus is very far from being a tame lion as a neighbor. The alliance with Leicester just screams teeth-clenched teamwork.

Reading your description of Failnaught looking teary-eyed is making me distraught. Who told you it was okay to do that?

Is it my own failing that I cannot, for the life of me, say who is Dimitri's right-hand man? I thought of Felix at first but then Dedue acts like that too. Also, poor Sylvain.

"…asking if he was in the mood to invade his territory again as a means of talking…"

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.

"Claude felt hunted by that stag on his wall. He should take it down.

He had to take it down."

There is a sense of horror in here imo. I mentioned that I took the stag as a symbol of conscience. It's hanging there and suffocating Claude… and he wants to take it down. The idea of Claude removing all sense of morality and dignity is chilling. And this is compounded by the next lines:

"He set down his glass and went over to the wall, stepping on the letters from lords and emperors and people who had managed to bribe royal messengers into delivering their concerns to the king himself as he reached up"

Claude is trampling on his people's pleas for his own convenience. He is ignoring the cries just so he can make himself feel better.

“You’ll need those.”

Dimitri's entrance is both relieving and hilarious. It's perfect at cutting the tension built up.

I'll get into the rest of the story. But I just have to gush about the solid opening first. It's just beautiful.

AAAAA I really do love it when people pick up on the details 😊

Yeah, Claude is . . . so royally fucked lol. Adrestia's not having their about-face, and Faerghus isn't exactly eager to ally with them beyond a "we won't kill you."

Usually when I refer to Dimitri's right hand, it's Felix, if only because it seems like the wording of "right-hand" is reserved for him, despite the fact that the role itself is one that Dedue and Felix play a game of hot potato with.

Claude in Ossification is a right fucking mess, as I'm sure you've probably gleaned by now lol. I had fun writing it, even if I probably would have taken a couple thousand more words, maybe, to really hammer it home. But hearing this made my day :') thank you so much. It really does tickle my writer's brain to see people pick up what I put down.

[rhodeythebetta]

Had a weird dream last night where I was in the car with my mom and I was able to see through the roof of our car and there was a bunch of really cool looking pigeons all over the power lines. (We do actually have a lot of pigeons here, but these were basically looking like pokemon knockoffs in a pigeon body) Anyway! I'm staring at the pigeons and rambling about how someday I'd like a pigeon, but I need my own place to live and space and I'll need 2 because they're social and my mom is kind of annoyed and ignoring me (typical). And out of nowhere I reached out the top of the car (which is now magically a convertible ig???) And I have a pigeon in my hands! Gorgeous boy, all purple and white, I got super excited and very loudly announced that I was going to name him Toby. My mom asked me where I was planning to keep him and when I looked at her to answer he disappeared. Like, didn't escape, wasn't flying away, just poof! gone! I was so distraught that I woke myself up.

[rewrite-canon]

Fifteen Minutes

Monster Prom // No Pairings // 2609 Words // Lyrics by Mike Krol

“What if I told you that the world was gonna end? And you had fifteen minutes to spend with me or your friends?” Vicky sings, bobbing her head to the tune that seemed to be playing in her head.

“What lame shit are you singing now?” Damien demanded, flicking a finger at her.

“None of your business,” Vicky bristled. “Why do you care anyway?”

I sucked in a breath. Vicky was really pushing it now. I think she is the only one with balls low enough to question Damien. Besides me, obviously. Well, Vera and Brian were plenty badass for it too. But only because Vera had enough brain cells to manipulate the way she said it that it looked like she wasn’t confronting him, and also because Brian gave no fucks whatsoever about Damien’s chaotic behaviour. Even now, I shudder to think of some of the arguments Damien and Brian had had.

And speaking of the devil and his green mates, they were huddled together in a manner that only meant no good. Now, Damien had swivelled around to face Vicky, a sneer on his face. I was sure his eyes would flare in rage at her question (they were always somewhat flared with rage), but instead they narrowed and Damien just frowned.

“Because you're distracting me, Brian and Vera from devising a plan to ransack the new substitute’s office with horny epileptics from hell for when he starts looking at our attendance records,” Damien said, gesturing to Brian, who had looked up blankly, and Vera, who was wearing her trademark scowl.

I should've known. Damien had always had a weird soft spot for Vicky (and Oz and Scott, but everybody had a soft spot for Oz and Scott).

“And steal his things,” Vera added. “I heard ghouls were filthy rich.”

“Great,” Brian rolled his eyes sarcastically at her. “So you're just going to waltz into Mr Devido’s office whilst he's being assaulted by epileptic demons and take your time picking and choosing what's valuable enough for your standards, unaware? Great plan, Vera. I thought you were supposed to be a grand schemer.”

Meanwhile, Vicky went back to humming her little tune. Miranda, who was in the middle of braiding Liam’s hair as he was browsing his phone (a seemingly pure act, if you ignored the fact that he was reading erotic gay smut and she kept rambling on her father’s new murderous conquests), looked up at her and smiled warmly. She soon picked up the few words Vicky sang, and began to sing it too, Liam then unconsciously murmuring them too after a while.

“I am, you ungrateful toad,” Vera snapped in the meantime. “Would you be paying attention to anything else around you if you were being grinded on by demons having seizures?”

Brian seemed to mull it over, then he said, “You’ve got a point.”

Polly, who had her head laid in Oz’s lap (poor Oz was trying to do homework, and ignore the heinous acts his friends were planning to commit) and her feet were resting in Scott’s lap (Scott was just chewing on a football, only to stop, look up, and smile adorably at everybody) and was complaining loudly at how bored and sober she was, and how she hadn't got completely wasted in seven hours.

“Seven hours!” She cried out, either to Oz or Scott, but it might as well of been no one, because no one was really listening. “That's the longest I've ever been without drugs and adrenaline coursing through my undead body! Can you imagine? And it's because I'm hanging out with you borings fuckheads. I mean, I'm literally in the lap of somebody doing fucking homework. I haven't even said the word ‘homework’ in centuries. And I'm not even on Oz’s lap in a sexual way so what even is the fucking point–?”

“–And you had fifteen minutes to spend with me or your friends?”

<!— more —>

“What the fuck are you singing?!” Damien roared at Liam, who jerked in alarm, Miranda, who just grinned evilly, and Vicky, who just rolled her eyes at his drama. “It’s going to make me go insane!”

“More insane than you already are?” I prompted, not being able to help myself.

Damien’s scorching eyes turned to me, and I snickered. He’s so easy to piss off.

“Amira,” he growled at me, “tell Vicky and company to shut the fuck up. They respect you for some reason.”

“It’s because she has really fucking good music taste,” Polly answered for Damien. “Like, it’s seriously good.”

Everyone collectively nodded, and I blushed.

“Wow guys,” I said, feeling this was a good time to talk about Rex Orange County’s new album, “it’s not that–”

“What would you guys do if you had fifteen minutes left in life?” Scott blurted, a troubled (yet absolutely adorable) expression on his face.

“I'd probably try to fuck up the world even more,” Polly said immediately, grinning at the thought. “I think I'd try to burn down everything, spray some secret concoction to get people incredibly horny, watch them get at it as they're burning to death, and I plan to do this all while riding a donkey casually.”

“To be honest, I'd probably try to finish this first and foremost,” Liam said, holding up his phone. Then he smiled goofily. “This shit is good.”

“Would you spend it with me and friends?” Scott said, wide-eyed.

Polly and Liam looked at him, at his vulnerable face, and I knew what they were going to say before they said it.

“Of course!” Polly said enthusiastically. “Yeah, doing all that with you guys would make it even more rad!”

“Yeah,” Liam added, but then blushed in that cute, shy way. “But I don’t know how much you guys would love reading this with me.”

“I’d love doing everything with you both,” Scott grinned, his mood instantly picking up, as Polly choked at the statement. He then turned to look at Damien and Oz.

“How about you two?” Scott queried, and I laughed a bit about how Damien’s face scrunched up as he started to think about. No doubt he was using his maximum brain power.

“To be honest, I’m probably the one who is ending the world,” Damien remarked, and everyone started to nod their heads in agreement. “So, sorry about that in advance.”

“I’d probably have to finish this Monsters' History homework first,” Oz said, gesturing awkwardly at his essay he was writing out, “and then I’d probably straighten up all my debts and then–”

“Oh my Satan, Oz, shut it,” Damien said, massaging his temples, as if Oz’s statement caused him physical harm. “It makes me sad, that you would say that. And it also makes me impeccably annoyed with you. And now I feel hostile.”

“When do you not feel hostile, though?” Vicky and I said at the same time, and then we grin at each other and high five.

Damien glared at us, whilst Oz is quick to defuse the fire.

“Well, sorry Damien, but I'm just being honest,” he said quickly, drawing Damien’s attention to him (which is kinda ballsy, if I do say so myself). “But what I do know,” Oz continued bravely, under Damien's smouldering gaze, “is that I wouldn't mind ending the world with you, Damien.”

It's hilarious, seeing Damien’s naturally red face get even redder, and to see Oz realise what he just said and sputter innocently. Vera, however, is not pleased.

“Oh,” she said, sniffing in jealous offence (that takes me all the willpower I possessed not to burst into giggling fits, and I could see I wasn't the only one struggling there, because Polly was just barely keeping it down), “I see how it is. You would destroy the world with Damien, but not with me, Oz?”

“What? No! Of course I would want to do everything with you–” and then Oz’s voice died and Polly finally lost it, which made me burst as well, and the next thing you know Vicky was also giggling along with us. Even Brian seemed to be smirking.

Vera glared at us, which made Vicky and me shut up, and Brian just lost his amused expression naturally, but Polly was undeterred.

“For the record,” Damien said in a weird, insecure, shy tone that made him sound like an entirely different person. “I don't, you know, mind doing homework or whatever nerdy stuff with you, Oz.”

And now Brian was the one sputtering.

“Oh you fucking snot,” he spat, and both Damien and Oz flinched before they could get any more flustered (watching those two try to interact and connect was the funniest shit ever, everyone agreed). “So when I asked for you to hang out with me when I was doing my homework, do you remember what you told me? You told me to get fucked!”

Was it just me, or did Brian genuinely sound hurt? It must've not only been me, because Scott started to pout and put a gentle (albeit big and hairy) hand on Brian’s shoulder, which at least made Brian relax at his touch a bit (if anyone had the power of friendship at their fingertips, it was Scott). Even Liam looked up, vaguely distraught.

“That was only because you had Liam and Miranda over,” Damien, sniffing indignantly. “And if I went, I knew you wouldn't stop making heart eyes at Miranda, so I blew it off to commit tax fraud with Amira. But if you really wanted me to come, then you should've just, you should've just–”

Damien looked at a loss.

“Told him how you really felt?” Vicky prompted, and Damien snapped his fingers.

“Yes!” He exclaimed. “That.”

“What would you do then, Brian and Vera? If you had fifteen minutes?” Miranda asked this time, her eyes shining with curiosity.

“Spend all the millions I’ve earned to hire a gang and assassinate anyone who had ever crossed me,” Vera said without hesitating. “Then, I shall have them skinned and made into fabulous purses. And then I will sell those purses to earn me even more money, and use that to buy us all really expensive, furnished mansions, with servants and multicultural cuisines and everything, so we can live the rest of our lives in absolute luxury.”

Awww. That was actually quite adorable. Vera cares about our lifestyles too!

“And you plan to do this all in fifteen minutes?” Liam asked, deadpan.

“You'd be surprised at how efficient I am,” Vera sniffed, but I didn't think I'd actually be that surprised.

“Definitely not hang out with Damien,” Brian sniffed sourly after Vera had shared. “I guess try to finish off ransacking the new substitute’s office with horny epileptics with Vera. And then, I don't know. Relax and await my death.”

“Well, that's fucking depressing,” Polly murmured to me. “And I didn't know I was capable of getting depressed.”

I snorted. Was she still astounded about how somber Brian was?

“Wouldn't you still have to hang out with Damien to continue your plan with the horny epileptics, though?” Liam asked.

“Well, yeah, fine,” Brian said, not making eye contact with his demon friend (who was trying to make eye contact with him, and honestly, it was shocking how much Brian and Damien got into their own squabbles). “But I don't have to talk to him. That can be Vera’s job.”

“I'm not being your owl!” Vera hissed at him, and she actually hissed. Her small green snakes on her head did too, showing how much she detested the idea.

“What if you were paid?” Miranda queried, probably just out of curiosity, but Vera’s hissing ceased immediately.

Before Vera could discuss any specifics, Vicky butted in.

“I’ve thought about this one,” she said smugly, and no one was surprised. Number one, Vicky had thought about scenarios for everything. And number two, she probably would've thought of this before if she knew the song beforehand. “I would make it my life's goal to find the tastiest flavour of ice cream in all the dimensions! And once I find that ice cream, I will use a device that I would have Calculester make me, that clones the ice cream! And then I will bring all the ice cream back to this dimension and invite all of you guys over and we can eat the ice cream together!”

Everyone seemed to enjoy that idea, except one frowning ghost.

“Um, hello?” Polly asked, raising a hand and gesturing to herself. “Did you forget about me?”

“Of course not!” Vicky exclaimed emotionally. “Caculester is now working on a device that makes food into incorporeal substance that you can digest, Polly. Because, seriously, it breaks my heart that you can't eat. It really does.”

Polly seemed satisfied enough with that answer.

“How did you get Calculester to do that for you?” I ask.

Vicky winked. “Let's just say I turned on my unwavering charm to that library computer. And he didn't stand a chance.”

“If I had fifteen minutes left, I would want to be coronated,” Miaranda said, poshly. “I would invite you all to my coronation, of course. And then once I am mermaid queen I will throw an amazing national party for all of us to enjoy, whilst forcing my endless numbers of slaves to fight each other to the death for our entertainment! Oh, I can see it all coming together!”

Miranda’s expression turned dreamy, which was cute but also quite disturbing since she was thinking about bloodshed. Damien started to nod in approval, though. He seemed to like the idea. Bloody royals.

“I would want to take all of you to the park, where we can have a picnic, and hold hands, and give each other gifts to show how much we care for one another!” Scott said, his tail wagging happily. “And then we can sing songs and die happy with each other, knowing that we love us!”

Scott was so adorable, everyone looked misty-eyed. Vicky leapt up to wrap her arms around Scott, her affection for him seeming to be too overwhelming for her (Scott didn't complain, though). Brian was smiling, and seemed to forget about his brief argument with Damien, because now they were both grinning at each other. Liam was even beaming.

“Ew,” Vera finally said. “I can't believe you all liked that.” She pointed a finger at Scott. “Say that again and you will give me diabetes. I just hope you know that.”

But we all knew she secretly liked the sodding friendship story Scott came up with.

“What's diabetes?” Scott said, bushy eyebrows creasing.

“How about you, Amira?” Oz piped up, and all eyes were suddenly on me. “You haven't said what you would do.”

I mulled it over for a bit, but then spoke up without there being much mental contest.

“Probably make you all listen to the new Rex Orange County playlist,” I said, and Vicky and Damien sniggered.

“You're so predictable,” Vicky giggled.

“What can I say?” I shrug, breaking into a smile too. “My reputation precedes me.”

We all sit there in contented silence for a bit, just enjoying and treasuring one another.

“There's just one problem,” I said, drawing everyone's attention again. “How would we plan to do all of what we all want to do in fifteen minutes? Seems impossible.”

Brian started to smirk, and then Miranda started to smile, and soon Polly was also grinning.

“We’d figure it out,” Brian said. “I bet we would. We've already done so many impossible things in our weirdass lifetimes.”

I shared a smile with him.

“Yeah,” I said finally. “Fifteen minutes is nothing for us.”

[smallstarfox]

(incoherent gender ramble please ignore)

can't even talk about this on my personal/"private" accounts because I'm terrified of making people upset so I'm just gonna say this here so I can get it off my chest and then forget about it later.

really want to go on low dose testosterone so I can maybe be the person I want to be by the time I'm 30. especially in conjunction with finasteride because it will lower the likelihood of certain effects happening and give me more chance to get where I want to.

but I can't use the NHS because the UK sucks. so I'd go private and can afford it easily....but I have trans masc and trans men friends who can't access hormones and are very very distraught about it and I can't help but think they'd all hate me because they've been very open about their jealousy and upset before now and how they get worse when seeing people have the things they want and I can't shake feeling like I'm not even worthy to have medical treatment because I'll just be taking it away from someone who would really be hurt without it.

in no way and I trans...so why should I even get help? all I am is genderless in the vast majority of instances, and then maybe sometimes I have a gender because an alter says so. collectively we all want this too. So. Why don't I just go and get it?