#(PURELY an act on self preservation on his part)

[hazellvsq]

alignment chart based on new abbott elementary episode:

child smoker: leo

literally vapes: annabeth

smokes weed every night: piper

protein bar edibles: jason

hookah head: frank

demolishes those little bottles of chardonnay: reyna

cbd oil for joint pain: percy

bathtub blunts: hazel

[lenaellsi]

after my latest rewatch I am even more convinced that crowley really doesn't have the intense self-loathing issues he's commonly depicted with. like he has some regrets and bad memories and insecurities like everyone does, and he's under an insane amount of stress basically always, but he's very confident in who he is. he's not particularly happy about being a demon, but that isn't the same thing as hating himself for it. he hates hell, not himself.

like. he’s not upset about being called one of “the bad guys” because he agrees, he’s upset because he knows aziraphale is wrong, and because this is evidence that aziraphale still believes in a philosophy that has divided them since even before his fall. he has never once considered himself less than aziraphale or any other angel. I think it's clear that he's pretty offended by that implication, actually!

“crawly” as a name is too squirming-at-your-feet-ish for him because he knows who he is, and he sees value in that person. his depression and his worrying relationship with his own life and safety come from his feelings on god and predestination, not from self-loathing. crowley does not believe in the system. he doesn’t believe in the idea that people are purely good or evil, and he’s sure enough of himself to know that he's not either. that's why he's able to make the choices he does. he's able to act in the gray spaces between heaven and hell (see: job, the flood, the "virtues of poverty," armageddon, etc etc) because he is confident enough to make those decisions without worrying about what the powers that be say about what's "right" and "wrong."

that doesn’t mean that he’s not self-conscious. he’s very concerned with what humans think of him, what aziraphale thinks of him, and (out of self-preservation) what hell thinks of him. he hides his eyes and puts on a cool, flashy persona to hide the more vulnerable parts of himself. I think everyone does that, to a degree, but it's especially obvious in crowley because of how it manifests in his glasses. he's been burned (literally) before, and he knows better than to show weakness when he could be hurt like that again.

and re: the "I never meant to fall" thing--he's upset about being a demon, yeah, because the fall sounds like it sucked, and his job tortures him when he's Good or just Bad in the wrong way, and he's deeply lonely, and the love of his life has a complex about their relationship, and he's trapped in a system where he has to blindly follow one of two nearly-identical sets of bullshit morality rules or be executed. but again, he's mad at god, heaven, and hell for all of that. I'm sure he's angry at himself for all sorts of reasons often enough, because crowley is generally a pretty angry person, but he doesn't hate himself in any sort of existential "I am an unlovable monster" way.

maybe sometimes he regrets falling. maybe sometimes he thinks it would be easier if he never did. maybe sometimes he hates his fucking line manager and wishes he could do any other job for a while. but no part of crowley thinks that he is any worse of a person after the fall, or any less worthy of aziraphale's company. he just thinks aziraphale thinks that, because of the amount of times aziraphale has told him so.

[violetashfall]

Clumsy Boy.

Where Carl is a wreck...

┊ ➶ ｡˚

!basically fem reader (No physical disc) - 3rd person!

Pretend Warnings;

Cringey

Carl is a complete loser in this !!

Got some notes at the end of the fic, just me complaining...

Carl Grimes had gotten significantly more uncoordinated after he lost his eye… his depth perception was not what it once was, and paired with the headaches and brain fog, his clumsiness only got worse.

He took offence to the way his eye deceived him, looking so insulted whenever a water bottle hit his lips before he could part them, how forks kept knocking against his teeth when he tried to take in food.

One person who always witnessed his struggles was [name], she couldn’t help but notice his stumbles and the empty grasps he made whenever he missed whatever he wanted to hold.

His clumsiness was ever-present in how close he got to her while talking and walking, always finding himself a few many steps too close. He tried to make it seem casual, he totally meant to stand foot-to-foot with her–He didn’t even notice when the rim of his sheriff’s hat hit against her head–and when he took those very slow steps back, they were so inconspicuous he might as well have been a ninja…

But of course, Carl was lying to himself, he looked like Bambi learning to walk on ice whenever he was with the poor girl who kept falling victim to his wobbly brain.

But [name] found it sweet – Carl looked so flustered when he accidentally wavered too close, how his lanky arm bumped into hers when they walked… his coordination skills only got worse when the sun came out, blinding his only good eye and making his foggy brain ache further.

It was how he ended up in such an awkward situation: He hated ladders with a burning passion now his mind was constantly dizzying. He had to climb one at the lookout post during the summer day, clinging close to the rung bars - focusing on not getting too woozy. [name] stood at the top, looking over Alexandria with her hand extended for him to take - the one he missed as he clambered to the top with the fear of a tiny puppy - for such a strong boy, he was acting like a kid terrified of heights, throwing himself into the lookout with zero grace and little self-preservation left.

[name] couldn’t dodge him quick enough when Carl tumbled into her, the crown of his head harshly knocking into her chin - making [name] freeze as the force drove her to bite her tongue. When Carl felt the clunk on the top of his head it was already too late, eye-level with [name] once his legs were fully straightened, already taking a tripped step forward and already hanging off her to stop his fall. Their noses hit each other and worst of all, their lips ungainly brushing together.

[name] pushed herself back and forced him upright in a split second, hearing his thick boots thudding against the floor as he stabilised himself. [name] fell backwards raggedly, tripping on her shoelace - his clumsiness was infectious apparently. Not only did [name] feel her sore teeth and hammering chin, but her lips were also buzzing like his had zapped an electric current through them. Her nose wrinkled at him, pure perplexity taking her face as she stared–

“Jesus, Carl!” She exclaimed like a bruised child, She was a bruised child; tasting that pinprick of blood that pipped out her bitten tongue, knowing she’d get a purple mark on her chin from his thick skull colliding with it. The one day he didn’t wear that stupid sheriff's hat… at least it'd cushion the blow.

Carl looked down at her, eye shot open and brain paused in a deep drowning feeling of mortification… and an upcoming migraine. “I’msorry–” His words spilt so fast they were incoherent, hands extended yet frozen by his sides - he had practically just attacked her–Thrown himself at her like she was a lake and he needed to hide from the wasps swarming his head–and it didn’t even work! His brain burned, lit ablaze by the thoughts in his head telling him he was an idiot, asking himself why it was always her.

“You sneeze on me yesterday and now break my jaw?” She whined dramatically, grumbling and pouty, cupping her chin and instinctively touching her lips. She gawped at Carl who's face was burning scarlet - not only had he been weird with her for months, hindering his progress with her at every turn by stepping on her toes or stabbing her with his fingernails when trying to hold her hand–something he was so embarrassed by he was timid to try again, especially after she began figuring out what his murderer name would be after he finally killed her–He had also just ruined his chances further by attacking her with his gracelessness.

“--I didn’t mean to,” Carl cringed at himself, heart pounding in his chest as he kept inwardly begging for the world to swallow him up right there, partly wanting to glare at her for bringing up when he sneezed on her - he had begged her to forget about it, he just wanted her to think he was cool. “Both times,” He muttered, “Any of the time–All of it.” He spilt, moving towards her with stumbled steps and fumbling arms. He tried to help her up - thanking god he at least held her hand with more ease this time.

He couldn't believe himself, he wasn’t awkward, he was outspoken and smart - but Jesus, he did not act like it... especially now, staring at her apologetically with a tight grasp on her upper arm as if she would flee if he let go, but in reality, it was to stop himself from falling to his face without her support, he felt dizzy.

“You’re fine,” [name] said, side-eyeing him as he helped her stand, feeling his hands shake against her. She usually found his clumsiness endearing, but she was startled this time, so much to process about that split second interaction. One thing [name] could tell was how by that tiny grimace on his face - one clouded by the most dorky, cringed, expression ever - that he was at the start of a migraine, and so was she if the pain in her chin radiated any further through her skull.

She started hoping their mistaken kiss would turn him into… well, just a Carl who didn’t keep colliding into her… but he wasn't a frog, and she was no princess, she scowled too much for it.

"You are fine? Right?" She asked, brows furrowing as she inspected his expression, seeing his jaw tight and eye squinted. "Just, Just a headache." He said, shaking his head and diverting his face further, not exactly wanting to look into her eyes when he was so mortified.

[name] huffed, Carl was back to his normal stubborn denial now, just with some extra embarrassment - he knew damn well she was about to tell him to take his painkillers, he'd give her that look as if to say 'Don't baby me' - he wasn't a child who needed to be reminded… but he couldn't bring himself to look at her after that colossal fumble, still flushed and awkward from basically kissing her. "I'm fine." He repeated, voice holding tenseness, something about how [name] stood quiet for a few seconds too long made him know she'd be teasing him soon enough for the massive blunder... he just wanted to get over it... and maybe smirk and kick his feet while thinking about how her lips briefly felt against his.

"...Why are you smiling?" [name's] brows furrowed further, watching Carl who held an expression mixed with pain, mortification and somehow cheekiness... his mind somewhere else for a moment.

Carl's eye widened when she called him out, looking at her as his tiny, dopey smile fell and got replaced with blabbering lips, "Shutup." He grumbled - getting ripped away from his lovey thoughts - about to let her hand go, yet he couldn't bring himself to, palm stuck to hers like glue, wanting to hold it too much to let it go.

(A/N) I hate writing in 1st / 2nd perspective so I just didn't... the use of [name] is pretty robotic but, hey... I have no defence. I kinda wanted to make this a 'neutral pronoun' fic but got pissy that my WiFi wasn't working so I didn't...

I just wanted to try writing fanfiction.. This was supposed to be a bot, and probably will still be. I didn't capture his character because I made him a dorky whump - I was in a silly mood!!

So yeah, first fanfiction, I felt like a completely stereotypical teenage girl writing this and I don't mind it.

[narcissistshandler]

not wanting to pressure you but I need your posts to breathe and with that said I would love to read about virgin!daniel/park hyungsuk experiencing intimacy and sex for the first time (hcs maybe?) and add x male reader please, love you!

𝗩𝗜𝗥𝗚𝗜𝗡!𝗗𝗔𝗡𝗜𝗘𝗟 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗡𝗦

pairing. park daniel/hyungsuk/hyungseok x m!reader

warnings. virgin daniel, blowjob, masturbation, mutual masturbation, thigh riding, amab!reader, exploring sex, anal sex, fingering, a lot of firsts, bottom!daniel... pure smut

a/n. please then breathe again. with this request we begin the 2024 posts! sorry for the delay. all requests received were accepted, with the exception of those asking for a f!reader (sorry) and as usual, this is unedited.

⠀࣭⋆ If you were interested in his original body and not the second one, then it will take Daniel a long time to even notice and even longer to believe that you genuinely like him. Why? he asks, more than once, without understanding what you could possibly like or find attractive about him, in this body that had always been the target of hatred and humiliation. Even when Daniel currently loses weight and has a change in appearance, this does not change the brutality of his concept of himself.

⠀࣭⋆ He has never been in a relationship before and has never allowed himself to dream about one, so when you get into a relationship everything is new to him, going on dates, holding hands, kissing and of course, having sex.

⠀࣭⋆ Daniel seems to be one of those people who has a very objective notion of sex and little of the complexity and intimacy that can come with the act. I don't think he has any sexual knowledge beyond the biological part taught in schools (I think he knows what is porn, but has never been interested in), so a new world opens up to him and each new discovery will leave him surprised.

⠀࣭⋆ He will be excited by the range of opportunities and curiosity will always get the best of him. He will trust you to guide him, even when he may feel a little overwhelmed by all these new things, wanting so much to please you, Daniel knows how to say what he likes and ask about what he's curious about. Therefore, he will occasionally ask his friends what he shouldn't.

⠀࣭⋆ I feel like he definitely doesn't have a sense of self-preservation and you should educate him about the boundaries in your relationship that should just be between the two of you if you're more reserved or he might definitely comment obliviously about how sweet you are to him in bed or ask Zack if he knew if the first time anal hurt a lot (to his complete shock and disgust).

(Daniel will easily follow and believe what you say since he don't have any experience with relationships, so please don't use his trust to take advantage of him or hurt him in any way.)

⠀࣭⋆ Going back to the first few times, he will be a clumsy and shy kisser and kisses will become his favorite thing to do with you. Daniel melts when your mouth meets his, no matter how much time passes and how many times you do it.

⠀࣭⋆ He is hesitant, but he will try to learn from you, repeating every movement of your mouth and tongue and the night after your first kiss, his face flushed with memory and hidden under the covers as if someone could see him, Daniel's search history will be filled with 'how to kiss', 'how to be a good kisser', 'how to know if they liked my kiss', 'what is french kiss?' etc etc.

(As soon as you get into a serious relationship and Daniel realizes what it means, he's immediately wanting to know everything from what gifts might you like, how to discover your 'love language' to how two men can have sex. After he asked these questions to his friends, Jace advised him to just search on the internet.)

⠀࣭⋆ Daniel wants all types of kisses and as many kisses as possible. Forehead kisses, eskimo kisses, cheek kisses, pecks, the list is long. He loves the intimacy and genuineness of each of them.

⠀࣭⋆ He also cums immediately the first time you slide your knee between his legs during a makeout session and won't last long after that, learning that he actually really likes it when you make him ride your thighs.

⠀࣭⋆ Mutual masturbation is one of Daniel's favorite things. He likes to see your face when he feels pleasure and he likes to learn how to make you feel good (despite seeming to be completely out of this plan, Daniel is actually paying a lot of attention to how you touch the two of you). Plus there's nothing hotter than when you grab his dick and yours together and bring them to orgasm together, the semen mixing in your hand afterwards.

⠀࣭⋆ Daniel likes any position where he can see your face and that's what brings him to orgasm most of the time, seeing the excitement and desire in your eyes as he comes apart beneath you with the slightest touch. Never forget to kiss him during this, oh! he could die content like this, your tongue in his mouth and the erection in your pants rubbing deliciously against his.

⠀࣭⋆ Pleasure is always too much for him, so things like overstimulation will only harm him while he gets used to sexual stimulation. He'll think you might be trying to kill him if you try to reach for his cock again after an orgasm or rub your fingers against his entrance when the powerful orgasm forces him to curl into a ball. Afterwards, the two of you can learn exactly his limits, but at the beginning of your relationship don't pressure him too much with fetishes.

⠀࣭⋆ Touching him over his pants is enough to bring heat to his face and make him stutter. Daniel then discovers how good the heat of your mouth feels, he comes quickly, sweating and shaking so much that it takes a good long minutes before he can stand again. Sweet as he is, he'll thank you right away, as if he thinks you're doing some kind of favor by touching him and giving him pleasure. He also reassures you with promises to learn how to make you feel good too.

⠀࣭⋆ He loves your mouth. In his mouth. In his skin. On his nipples or around his dick. When you ask him what he wants, most of the time Daniel will merely respond with 'your mouth ' and it's up to you to decide exactly what to do with it.

⠀࣭⋆ He's on the quiet side and won't make many sounds other than whimpers and low grunts, whenever necessary struggling to form words under the sensation of alien pleasure that makes his mind spin.

⠀࣭⋆ Always praise him and tell him how much you love him and take good care of him after each session, his mind can go hazy after an orgasm.

⠀࣭⋆ In your relationship, the word 'rush' doesn't exist and Daniel is calm knowing that the goal of everything is to get to know each other, be more intimate and make each other feel good, there is no finish line. Even though all of Daniel's first times are special, make your first time making love with him even more so. If you can, prepare the environment in detail, light some candles perhaps and take your time to make him relaxed enough to stop talking so much. If you can't, that's okay too, sometimes it's better when things happen naturally.

⠀࣭⋆ Either way, make sure this night is special. Touch it with more reverence than usual. Say compliments to him, call him 'beautiful', 'adorable', 'breathtaking', 'mine', everything else you can think of and watch as he melts under the loving appreciation.

⠀࣭⋆ Build a trail of kisses from his closed eyelids to his ankles, avoiding, but just for now, where he most wants to be touched. Daniel will make the most beautiful sound when the first finger pushes through the ring of muscles, sinking in despite the resistance. Let him breathe, run your hands over his tense thighs and watch as he clenches beautifully around the intrusion. Take your time, rub his sensitive nipples with your thumbs and pinch them, this will make him relax enough for the next fingers and when your cock is finally inside him, 'splitting him in half' as Daniel whimpers, don't think about anything else but make this first time unforgettable for him.

The movie had long been forgotten. Daniel blamed you for continuing to touch him, hand on his thighs, squeezing, moving up and down, even though his attention was on the movie, he was very hyper-aware of your touch. It was your fault that now you were crammed together on your couch, kissing and rubbing and his body was so hot that he thought it was possible he had a fever; a shudder ran through his entire body every time your tongue traveled too deep into his mouth, seeming never get enough of his taste.

“I-I also want to make you feel good,” said Daniel and when a little confused you asked him to phrase it better, his answer almost led you to ruin him right there, “I want to... suck you... can I?”

You couldn't deny even if you wanted those hopeful eyes staring back at you. But when Daniel got down on his knees in front of you and started pulling your cock out of the pants, the filthiest thoughts flooded your mind and it took everything you had not to fuck his tight throat as he took you in his mouth, inexperienced and eager to please, occasionally stopping to ask if you were feeling good.

Daniel trembled every time the head of your cock rubbed against the roof of his mouth and made the low choking sound every time it came too close to his throat. You always knew about how sensitive the inside of his mouth was, it was hot as he flinched when your tongue explored his mouth, but this, this was even hotter.

His eyes opened and closed several times — he seemed to close them to focus more on what he was doing and then open them to make sure you were enjoying the way he was licking your member. This made you want to fuck his face until Daniel cried. Fuck, he was killing you with those little whimpers and moans. 'Is this good?', 'am I doing well?', 'do you like this?', 'am I doing this right?', 'I like it when you do it like this, I think you like it too'. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

During these torturous slow, delicious minutes, it takes all your self-control to remain seated on the couch, hips still and hands at your sides, not putting your hands on him because you didn't think you could stop yourself if you did.

But if you're not able to contain yourself and sink your cock down his throat, don't worry too much. Daniel just wants you to feel good and your lack of control will only make him hot and horny, eager to get down on his knees for you again and again, since now he knows exactly how to 'make you feel good'.

[arthenaa]

a daffodil's camellia— ominis x gn!reader

summary: you think your purpose has always been to love him.

warnings: angst/no comfort, arranged marriage, indirect exclusion, HEARTACHE, unrequited love, reader is kinda a pushover but its bc of generational trauma guys !!! imelda is a great friend, the imelda bias here is unreal so sorry im just projecting, ableism behavior guys bc these mfs are too privileged, i am fr trying to break ur heart ig. NOT PROOFREAD im lazy.

note: HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEAR!!!! i slept on this mb,,,,, the angst ominis fic that i talked abt last time but didn't upload until now .... oc cameo from @localravenclaw and @esolean !! (Ren and Lydia) hope u guys enjoy this! anys have fun reading

All your life, you think that this was what you’ve been born to do.

It’s engraved in years of tradition and history, a role you had to partake in the moment you came out of the womb. It was predetermined that your fate would end up in this situation.

Purity was an important factor for the historical families of the Wizarding world. Those who had come down from powerful bloodlines consider the tradition of keeping the family pure a sacred tradition of their power and authority over society.

A pedestal created from years and years of bloodshed to hone the perfection of wizardry and magic today. You suppose it was only an act of gratitude to be part of a long-lasting dynasty that preserved the sacred power of your ancestors. You know it’s an honor to be tasked with this role—to be given the duty of creating more branches for future generations.

You should know because this was what you were born to do.

Born and raised to be a bridge for other Pureblood families to lengthen their authority and claim over their self-built thrones. They say it’s a privilege—to be part of a family descended from the Great Four or just have connections with them through their ancestors’ relationships.

To be pure is to be great.

To be pure is to live a life filled with luxuries.

Opportunities are immediately given with just a snap of their fingers. Their authority precedes those whose blood is stained with the lesser. You’d think living a life of a pureblood would just entail all roses and gold.

Y/N would beg to differ.

“Keep your head bowed and hands on your lap,” Your mother’s voice is ever so cold. The carriage rustles with each bump against rocky terrain. You suppose it's about time you've gotten used to her tone but the booming surprise of her voice has a way of sinking its claws deep within your small heart. As a child, obedience was the foremost value you learned to be of importance. You knew that if you flick your head slightly off angle to your usual disposition due to an interest in your surroundings or the people around you, you would only get the receiving end of your mother’s wand. You knew that you'll be locked down in that dreaded abyss if your bow stuttered due to a misplacement of your foot in front of other pureblood families.

At a young age, you knew enough to not make a mistake.

Born third to the Rosier family's eldest son, you knew that your duty was to form connections—Marry off into other pureblood families and create the next generation of talented pureblood wizards. Wizards have the natural right to take what’s theirs because of their authority over society. A vision that threatens those beneath them.

So you keep your head bowed and palms tucked nicely on your lap with one palm over the other. Your mother is a cold and moving force beside you as you tried to match her pace despite your small little legs. At the age of 7, you are brought by your mother for marriage negotiations.

“Your husband will be an esteemed member of the Gaunts,” You remember your father declaring over tea. He sits menacingly in the front of the table, the glow of the flames behind him making his figure all the more unreachable. You know to only nod and not question any further. He makes a point by knocking on the wooden surface of the long dinner table that seems to stretch farther with each day. You wonder if the spaces beside you will ever be filled. You turn to him at the beckoning of your attention. “You listen carefully to your future husband, child. I cannot afford another failure.”

His words engrave deeply within your poor meek heart. You know that if you deny it, you’ll suffer the same fate that of your older sister—the one who tried to get a glimpse of the love and normalcy she desperately wanted yet ended with a tragedy.

You remembered that day in such vivid detail—the cold looks of your parents as they looked down at the state of their eldest daughter, who bawls and claws at any sort of reaction from the still and lifeless figure of her former lover.

So just like the obedient perfect child that you are, you nod and bow—subservient to the influences of those who claim to be wiser than you. You can only do so much to control your faith so alas, you let go and let the others hold the reigns.

That is until you meet him.

You were faintly aware of what he looked like. A boy with eyes as bright as the clouds, hair so smooth—so blonde that it gleams perfectly in the sunlight, and moles that litter his face, mimicking the night sky. These were murmurs of him from the servants in the halls of your manor. They say his beauty is compared to that of Rowena Ravenclaw and his demeanor spoke true as a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. However, there were also whispers of his only flaw.

“They say the young lord does not see.”

You wondered before how true the nature of the gossip of the young lord was when you took your first step inside the Gaunt estate, but now, as you stand before him who seems detached from the world with his eyes as dull as the morning sky on a rainy day, you suddenly make a conclusive remark about him.

He was truly a sight to behold.

“This is the young Lord, Ominis Gaunt," His mother declares proudly from her place, chest puffed and earrings dangling from the heaviness of the jewels that clung tightly to their placements. His father stands idly and lets his wife do all the matching. Your mother only smiles, placing a firm hand on your back—reminding you of your duty.

You bow with the elegance that of a noble—A move you’ve honed to perfection from years and years of teaching and practice. You rise back up with the same pace, eyes peering up at him from your lashes. He only seems to daze off into the distance.

“This is Lady Y/N Rosier. We’ll serve you well.”

The silence is unbearable.

You think that maybe after the taxing interaction with the grown-ups and being able to interact alone with the young lord would allow you to finally discover his true personality.

That, however, continues to be a difficulty.

"Do you like fencing, my lord?" You ask, trying to break the ice as you sit across from him in one of the receiving rooms of the Gaunt's huge manor. "Or perhaps history?"

"Stop asking." He replies curtly, stance devoid of interest. You continue to dig deep into that shell of his, hoping that your incessant need to make conversation would crumble the defensive walls he put up.

"I hear you're quite skilled in astronomy, my lord—"

"Don't call me that."

"What do I call you then?" You perk up, cheeks gleaming with a smile. The furrowing of his eyebrows only digs deeper.

"It appears that I am an avid fan of silence. I suggest not speaking at all," For a 7-year-old, his voice is cold and authoritative. You suppose it's because of his closeness to the Great Four that he is granted with such ability to freely talk however he wants. Your eyes glimmer in awe.

"I just want to get to know my future husband," You retort, trying to make sense of your fiance. You pout like a child, feet swinging back and forth—allowing yourself a moment of reprieve from the stiffness of tradition. "Mother says it's customary for us to be familiar with one another at a young age to establish proper connec—"

His hands slam hard at the wooden surface of the table in front of you. You flinch, a bit surprised by his sudden show of strength. You admit that maybe you've gone a bit too far with the questioning, but it was all for a good purpose anyway! You two are to be one in due time. So, what was so wrong about getting to know him?

You wonder if you'll ever be like him someday. To carry himself in such a stance that he doesn't need to nod or bow to anyone. He tilts his head in the direction of your voice, face contorted into a glare.

"I'll be on my way," He murmurs, voice calm, and yet his disposition evokes anger and frustration. You watch him with bated breath as he walks towards the double doors, the servants bowing and opening it for him with ease.

You know that this should be the final nail in the coffin. To detest the boy you'll soon marry as he turns into a man whose values and inhibitions clung onto him like a wolf who won't release it's jaws onto prey. You know and yet your fingers crumple the fabric of your skirt, eyes looking forward to your next meeting.

The next time you meet him is over tea. It was the turn of the Gaunts to visit your manor as dictated by the tradition of courting within noble houses. You've practiced this scenario over and over. Countless of times alone, with your governess, and with your mother. It's engraved within the depths of your mind as the wounds of the past sting with each sip of your drink.

Act like a noble. Drink like a high-born. Be a pureblood.

The thoughts ring harshly with each thump of your beating heart. Your fingers twitch, and your form stiffens—all for the sake of tradition. The words branding the forefront of your mind as you feel the intensity of your mother's gaze.

I have to do good. I need to do good.

"Your estate is a wonderful place, Lady Rosier," The Gaunt Matriarch addresses your mother with an esteemed elegance—to which your mother only responds with a courteous smile, a part of her façade.

Your mother never liked purebloods but she respected tradition. She smiles and bows in front of her peers but mocks and beseeches them in the comfort of her room.

You don't understand your mother but as a young child, validation from her was the only thing you ever wanted.

And so you try.

"It's all due to our ancestors' hard work in keeping the Rosier history alive through the manor's architecture," You respond, lips contorted into a gentle smile. The Gaunts seem impressed by your interest in the conversation and from the corner of your eye, you see your mother shift in her seat.

"I see," Lord Gaunt eyes you with a glint of interest in his eye, and he shifts his attention to your parents. "Lord and Lady Rosier, you've raised a daughter worthy of her blood. I applaud you."

Your mother smiles and for the first time, you feel your heart thump at the recognition of doing good. She then responds, "As they should be. It is their role to be worthy and I'm sure she'll be a wonderful spouse to the young master."

Your attention then shifts to the quiet blonde sitting idly in his seat. His face is stone cold, eyes dull, and fists clenching the material of his seat so hard it turns white.

Anger was the first emotion you've seen on Ominis's face.

You wonder if you'll get to see more.

"Aren't you excited?"

You squeal, influenced by the utter joy of finally attending school. It's your first year.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where most wizarding families are built and made from. Many of your relatives built their name from their experiences as a student in Hogwarts—after all it was in your blood to be ambitious. To dream of the impossible and achieve it by any means. That's why your family house dons the colors of green and silver—a direct allegiance to the house of Slytherin, that of which many of your blood relatives reside during their time as a student.

While being excited about Hogwarts was already a given factor as a child of magic, there's also one thing you're most excited about.

"Stop bouncing about, Y/N," Ominis grumbled as he heaved his bag over his shoulder. "We still have to find our damn car."

Your relationship with Ominis did progress in some ways. He's less grouchy now and tolerates your personality enough to let you stay by his side. You've gotten used to its indifference but you think that it's good progress with how he talks more with you albeit still with glares and a cold demeanor.

He pays you no mind as he traverses through the narrow pathway of the train with the guide of his wand. You follow closely behind, hands carrying your suitcase as Ominis guides you to your assigned car.

"I can't help it, I'm literally bursting with energy," You whine as Ominis finally reaches your destination, slides the door open, and places his things inside. He plops down to the farthest corner and leans back to rest. You immediately claim the seat next to him to which he grumbles.

"There's plenty of seats for you to take," He scowls, gesturing to the empty seats in front of you both. You only giggle as you snuggle up next to him.

"Oh don't be such a stone-faced troll, Ominis!" You whine, slapping his arm. He tenses with anger at the gesture. "It's natural for me as your fiancée to be as close to you as possible."

"Stop calling yourself that," His eyebrows furrow in annoyance, jaw clenching in anger. You roll your eyes, not minding his hostility.

"But I am though?"

"I swear to Merlin's name and everything he holds dear, if you don't—"

The slide of the door halts your conversation as your eyes and his head flick toward the sudden disturbance. Two brunettes pop in, one seemingly looking like a direct copy of the other. They blink, eyebrows raised as they stare at the two of you.

"116?" The boy asks with an awkward smile. "Are we interrupting something?"

You pull yourself slowly from Ominis's space at the prospect of new friendships. You smile. "No worries, just a lovers' quarrel. I assume you're the ones we'll share the car with?"

"There is no lovers' quarrel." Ominis firmly states. The two purse their lips in slight hesitance. "Please, do join us though. Merlin knows I need it."

The two then make their way to sit in the remaining two empty seats, placing their luggage in the compartment under. You smile as they settle down in their seats, bright smiles plastered on their faces.

"Right," The boy starts. "Uh, I'm Sebastian Sallow and this is my sister, Anne. It's nice to meet you both."

You nod excitedly at the introduction, delighted to make friends at the present opportunity.

"I'm Y/N Rosier," You respond. You then gesture to the blonde next to you. "And this is Ominis Gaunt, my fian—"

"Friend." Ominis cuts through, overpowering your voice. You turn to him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. "They mean friend."

The twins glanced at the two of you, puzzled by the shifting of the balance in your dynamics. Anne breaks the silence.

"Well, we'll be spending quite a long while here, I hope to make your acquaintance," The Sallow girl beams. Sebastian nods at his sister's words while Ominis responds with a hum of agreement.

There's not much to say when the group falls into silence once more. The four of you were strangers after all, still not used to the presence of someone new but the feeling is welcomed.

Your eyes glance at Ominis who seems to have been resting his eyes, leaning his head against the wall—waiting for the train to begin its course. The corner of your lips curl up at his iridescent beauty.

The train sounds its whistle beginning your journey.

"Are you dumb?"

Imelda blatantly states as she stares at you with disinterest in her eyes. She takes a bite of her apple. "Or just purely ignorant of what's actually happening?"

On your 3rd year at Hogwarts, you somehow get grounded to reality through the presence of Imelda Reyes.

You suppose it's all in due time that you'd be awakened from the trauma-inducing nightmare of tradition and sacred rules of your family. The need to fulfill your role. To give Ominis a home he needs, a family he wants, and a lover he deserves. You suppose that your role overshadowed your judgment of his character and behavior.

You had gotten used to it. To his blatant ignorance of your efforts, the glares, sarcastic comments, seething scoffs, or the fact that sometimes, he doesn't see you at all.

He's always like this, you think. You were never bothered by his indifference. You believed that you could love him enough for the both of you.

You were stupidly wrong about that too.

Sebastian and Anne are terrific company. After being acquainted in your first year, your little group had been formed then and there. The two of them stayed for the past 2 years and you were truly grateful for them. However, the twins were mostly close to Ominis. You didn't mind the gaps between you and the siblings seeing as you prioritized your relationship with Ominis more than anything.

You never really considered it to be a bad thing.

That is until Imelda begins to scratch at the surface of your finely built walls.

You purse your lips, minding your own business as you continue to sew a new stitch into the stretched fabric. You were unfortunate enough to share the dorm room with Imelda and while you enjoyed the rambunctious' Slytherin Quidditch Captain's companionship, this was certainly not something you'd rather talk with her. Everything was fine and there was no need to nitpick at every detail.

Your needle pokes through the hole, goes in, then out—thread sliding swiftly in the path you've carved out for it.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Imelda," You try to deflect her inquisitive nature. She rolls her eyes.

"It's just–" She pauses to readjust her position, leaning forward to rest her arms on her knees—she eyes you with keen interest. "I'm truly amazed how you've gone 3 years with him."

You glance up at her with furrowed eyebrows. "Stop speaking ill of Ominis."

Imelda lets out a loud laugh at your response. "And you even dare to defend him? Are you sure you're not dumb?"

You forcefully drop your sewing tools on your lap as you heave a sigh at her words. You turn to face her fully. "What do you want?"

"Why stay?" She responds, direct. She takes another bite of the apple.

There's a momentary pause of silence as the question rings in your mind. You had half a mind to just drop the conversation and leave but some part of you somehow wanted to defend yourself.

"He's just Ominis. He's always been like that," You respond, chest puffed in self-proclaimed confidence. "We grew up together. We're promised for each other. That's all I need—"

A sudden burst of laughter from Imelda catches you off guard. You flinch in surprise as you watch the brunette Slytherin double down in laughter. Somehow, the clawing feeling inside you becomes more prominent with each giggle and huff from the woman's lips. Your nail begins to scratch at the skin of your thumb.

"H-Holy shit," Imelda sighs in laughter, brushing off a stray tear. She giggles a few more times before finally settling down with a smile. "You're worse than I thought."

She tilts her head with a condescending look on her face.

"Have you ever seen him with the twins? Alone?" She asks. That sets off wave after wave of uncomfortable thumping within your chest. You let out a shaky breath. "I suppose you don't because you're always so focused on your dearest fiance—Actually, y'know! If you just tried to properly look at him. Maybe, just maybe, you'd finally get a grasp of yourself."

Your jaw clenches and palms sweat.

"Stop it." You try to get a hold of yourself. To take control of the situation and get a grip on your thoughts that seem to get more and more chaotic as time passes. However, despite your tries, Imelda overpowers you once more.

"Y/N," She leans forward to rest her arms on the wooden surface of the table. "Maybe, you don't know much about him at all."

Your eyes are locked on hers at the prompt of her words. You can't bring yourself to deny despite the flurry of emotions bursting within you. She tilts her head and gives you a sympathetic look.

You walked out with no response.

On your 5th year, the presence of a new student shook the halls of Hogwarts.

It was uncommon, of course, that a wizard would get admitted at such a late year and while the idea of a new 5th year would turn a few heads in curiosity, this was not the only source of attention.

Over the course of the first few days back to school, you hear talks of the new 5th year's incredible feats of surviving against a dragon attack. There were exaggerations, of course, and different variants of the story with how widespread the gossip had reached, but it all reached the same conclusion at the end.

This new girl had already made her mark as a formidable wizard.

You admired her at first, wanting to know how she did it and what brought on such circumstances. However, there was a slight uncomfortable nagging deep within the depths of your heart at your first meeting. While you felt regretful of such impression despite her kind deportment, you still felt uneasy at the arrival of her presence.

It was probably partly because of Anne's leave of absence since the start of your 5th year. Sebastian was quite privy to the details concerning Anne's sudden absence. You knew she was sick, but other than that, you were quite left in the dark. You convinced yourself that maybe Sebastian feels conflicted when talking about it, and his sudden avoidance of you bringing up the topic proves a testament to that. However, you've seen him and Ominis on the train when you came back after getting refreshments. You've seen Ominis give him a comforting hug—an affection you've barely received from him if there was any at all. You've seen Sebastian tap Ominis to stop talking whenever you enter the room.

People tend to have that misconception that you're awfully unaware of your surroundings due to you being characterized as a 'pushover.' You knew that your bond with Ominis or Sebastian was way different than what they had for each other. You knew it and chose not to dwell too much on the semantics. You'd rather focus on Ominis. On being the person he deserves.

This was solidified when Sebastian began including her in your lunch hangouts.

You were unfortunate enough to be separated from Sebastian and Ominis for your Potions lecture. You had to scour across the castle just to get with them for lunch. They were usually at the same place—lounging around in the Defense against the Dark Arts Tower or the Undercroft.

This time, however, you were finding it quite hard to spot the two.

"Look," Lydia Parkinson, a Ravenclaw from your year, twirls the cup of drink in her hand as she lazily looks up at you due to the lulling atmosphere of the afternoon. "Maybe you could just have lunch with us. Just saying."

Seated beside Lydia is Ren Aries, your potions seatmate (also a Ravenclaw). She has rumored romantic ties with Sebastian, which brought you to their spot in the Great Hall in the first place. Who else would know Ominis's best friend better than you?

Your eyes turn to Ren, who merely rests her chin on her palm propped up by her elbow on the table. "Don't look at me."

"You're basically dating!" You whine, hands grabbing on your books tighter. "Of course, you know where he is."

"No, we're not." Ren answers swiftly.

"Wrong." Lydia raises a breadstick and accusingly points it at Ren.

"Is she talking to you? I don't think so." Ren swats her hand away, causing the breadstick to fly across the table and into a group of first years. The three of you immediately turn your heads, not willing to face the confused glances on their faces.

Just as the first years begin to mind their own business, Lydia begins to lean in with pursed lips. "Well, I might've heard that the two left the Great Hall with the new fifth—"

Suddenly a loud slap intercepts her words. You flinch back at the sudden movement, watching as Lydia rubs her arm as she crumples over the table. Ren sends a glare toward Lydia before turning to you with a half-lidded stare.

"Don't mind her. She's delirious after drinking the pumpkin juice." Ren intercepts easily, not minding her best friend wincing beside her. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

"I heard what she said?'

"No you didn't."

"I mean ..." You trailed off, eyes glancing between the two. "I just heard her say the new fifth year."

There's an uncomfortable silence as the two gaze at you with an unreadable stare. Somehow, this gaze seems quite familiar. You've seen it from Imelda, from Anne during your short moments together, and now these two. A budding stem of annoyance begins to grow in your skin.

"Why are you looking at me like that? They're probably just hanging out." You shrug it off like you've always had. It is no use fretting over such simple matters.

"Sure they are—" Lydia chuckles before Ren sends a nudge to her ribs. The redhead merely groans and grabs at the edge of the table. You look at her in concern.

"As I said, delirious." Ren lightly curls the corners of her lips to give you a polite smile. There's a pause of silence before Ren sighs—eyes gazing with an unreadable expression on her face. Your fingers twitch at its familiarity.

"They're in the Undercroft, Y/N." She says, nodding slightly. There's a slight hesitance to her tone of response as if telling you where they were wasn't something she was supposed to be doing. "Sebastian dropped by our table to tell me that, just in case I wanted to join."

Sebastian referred to Ren. Just in case she wanted to join. You wanted to ask if Ominis at least told her to tell you, but you're too much of a coward to do that.

You couldn't will yourself to look at her eyes, afraid that you might finally recognize the emotion that lingers in the depths of her mind. You suppose the inquisitive and empathetic nature of Ravenclaw runs deep within Ren's blood.

You nod as a thanks and left without a word.

You hear laughter first. Your footsteps halt at the archway of the Undercroft—breath faltering as your eyes find the familiar tufts of blonde you've grown to love over the years.

Normally, you would've already bounced over to him, reveling in his attention no matter how negative or neutral it might appear. You would've teased him and wormed your way into his arms.

However, things were quite different from where you were standing.

You hadn't had the opportunity to meet the new 5th year. You only relied on hushed whispers and murmurs across the halls of Hogwarts just to get a glimpse of what she was actually like. You take slow steps towards the source of laughter, eyes trained on their figures—smiles, and gleeful expressions plastered on their faces.

You're caught off guard by the unfamiliar presence of the new fifth year—hair as dark as midnight with a touch of silver strands that decorate the front of her hair like the stars that litter the sky. She's as pretty as they say, as radiant as they whispered about, and evokes the aura of a true born wizard.

However, the true reason for her shock lies in the fact that Ominis—the man she'd known to be stoic, unmoving, and unphased, was laughing. Ominis was laughing.

"Oh, Y/N." It's Sebastian who notices you first. You flinched at the greeting, watching as the other two paused—the new fifth year turning towards you with wide curious eyes, and Ominis subtly turned his head away from you. Your breath hitches at his actions. Sebastian awkwardly glances between the two of you. "I think this is the first time you actually met Nora. Nora, this is Y/N Rosier. Y/N, this is Nora Finley."

Nora waves at you with a smile. "Hi Y/N. Hope you don't mind me intruding."

"None at all." You reply eyes glancing at Ominis who continues to have his back towards you. You decide to continue the conversation. "I was looking for you guys. I thought we were going to have lunch."

"Oh," Sebastian scratches the back of his head, hesitantly glancing at Ominis who continuously remains silent and indifferent. "We already had lunch. Sorry."

You slowly nod in an understanding, a stiff smile plastered on your face.

"That was because you were too hungry to wait," Nora intercepts with joking shove. "Apologies, Y/N. I didn't know they were waiting for someone else."

Your finger twitches slightly at her words. "It's fine."

"I was waiting for Ren! Ominis was just being an asshole." Sebastian defends himself which earns a slap on the arm from Nora. Then, you suddenly hear Ominis speak up.

"Not my fault you were actually coward enough to not go to her yourself," Ominis says. This earns a laugh from Nora who bumps her shoulders against Ominis. "I had to pull you over." The three laugh at the situation at hand, faces plastered with glee and comfort.

So Ominis was there, with Ren and the others. Yet no one thought of telling you where they were. An anxious heavy feeling settles over your chest.

Suddenly, you feel out of place. Your ears ring, zoning out, as their motion becomes more distorted in your eyes. You feel as though you shouldn't be here—that you're the one intruding instead. The ache overwhelms you.

Your feet shuffle a few steps back. "I-I'll get going." You say, voice weak as you announce your departure. Sebastian gives you a moment's glance before nodding. Nora gives you a big wave (you feel bad, she's too much of an angel). However another reason piles onto your aching heart—mind in a daze as it beats fast with anxiety.

Ominis had not once acknowledge your presence.

You leave with your dignity intact.

Seeing Nora is now a regular occurrence.

You didn't mind it at first. You liked the girl. She was a social butterfly, easy to talk to, and her presence brought comfort whenever she was around. You couldn't argue the comfortable nature of Sebastian and Ominis around her. While you were also a generally talkative and social person, it still varied among your peers. Your personality often ventures between the lines of introvert and extrovert—only becoming active to a certain amount of people, and silent to the rest.

However, despite your positive impression on Nora, there was also the case between her and Ominis. You've seen them hanging about in various points of the castle. Even going out together when they leave classes. You haven't had much alone time to spend with Ominis as he somehow begins to become more non-approachable and cold as days pass by. Somehow, he becomes more indifferent than before.

Back then, Ominis indulges in your whims despite his initial opposition. You suppose it's probably to get you to stop, but he had always listened—one way or another. Now, he merely leaves without a word—cutting you off mid-talk and bouncing off to Nora who had just entered the room.

Your heart begins to waver and your breath speeds up. You couldn't deny the hurt that flows through you with each indifferent response of your fiance. Your fiance. He was yours as much as you were his.

So why does it feel like you're the one intruding?

"What do you think we should get Anne, Omi?" You smile, siding up to Ominis whose hands run through the braille engraved on his book. "Do you think we should get her some scented candles?"

"Anne has a sensitive nose." Ominis furrows his eyebrows before slightly tilting his head towards you. "Didn't you know that?"

"I did!" You respond with a defensive tone. Of course, you did. Anne was your friend. "I was going to buy her those simple scented candles. Just to help her with the stress."

Ominis scoffs at your words before going back to reading his book. Just as you inquire a little more about his day, you hear Nora and Sebastian chattering as they reach your spot. You were about to greet them when you felt Ominis nudge your hold away from his arm. You flinch at its intensity as he rises from his seat to walk towards the two—specifically in Nora's direction.

Your heart thumps loudly against your chest, knocking against your ribs like an ache you can't explain. You sit silently, eyes watching as they chatter amongst themselves. The looming realization begins to crawl under your skin, chipping at you—limb from limb. Your breath falters.

"Y/N!" Nora greets like the angel that she is. You smile back, albeit forced and hesitant but welcomed her warmth with open arms. She slides up to you, before calling over the two. They follow with ease. You feel Nora's arm intertwine with yours, thumbing the cloth of your robe.

Just as the two have finally settled down, Nora begins the conversation. "I'm glad you don't have DADA with these two. It's always a chaos."

You nod, still quite perplexed by the whole situation. "Really?"

"Please, Nora." Sebastian teases, arms propped on the table. "Just say you're mad that I beat you at a duel."

"Throwing a ragged cloth to my face before casting a Levioso isn't a win that you think it is." Ominis intercepts with a disappointed shake of his head.

"Blah, blah. Looks like a skill issue to me." Sebastian leans back, arms crossed over his chest. He rolls his eyes playfully. "Life isn't fair on the battlefield, Finley."

Nora turns to you with a scrunched nose. "Are you really friends with these guys?"

You find yourself pausing at her question. Thankfully, she laughs afterward, pulling tease after teasing towards Sallow. The question begins to etch into your brain as your mind conjured every possible interaction you had with Sebastian. Was he even your friend? You remember the silence and the awkward tensions whenever Ominis had to go to the bathroom or get called up by Professor Weasley. Even before then, when Anne was present in your little group of 4, the twins were always stuck to the hip, if not with Ominis. Never the three of you alone together.

Never with you.

You suppose Imelda was right. Blinded by the idea and concept of love through duty, you unintentionally neglected the possible ties that you could've had with the twins. You felt helpless.

"Oh, yeah. Before I forget, what are we getting Anne this weekend?"

Your head turn towards Nora in surprise. "You're coming?"

There's a momentary pause at your question. You wouldn't have minded it before, but now you feel the stares clawing at your skin.

"Of course, she is." Ominis replies with a tone of disbelief. "Don't be ridiculous."

"She hasn't met Anne, though? I don't think—"

"Don't speak for my sister, Y/N." Sebastian cuts through the tension with an offhanded response. You turn towards him in surprise. Nora shifts uncomfortably beside you. "We already planned this. Let's just go with it."

"You didn't tell me anything?" You're not sure as to why your voice suddenly begins to rise. Your hands clench under the table.

"My bad?" Sebastian shakes his head in confusion, as if he's the one incovenienced. "Listen up, next time then? Instead of you know—ogling Ominis, all the time?"

"Sebastian!" Nora calls out, perplexed at the sudden hostility. The brown-haired Slytherin merely turns his head away. A dreadful feeling submerges over your body as you glance at Ominis who sports an indifferent look in his face. There's a paused silence before Sebastian stands from his seat.

"Where are you going?" Nora asks, worried.

"Out. I'm floo-ing to Hogsmeade for the gift. Catch up if you guys want to." Sebastian mumbles in response. He leaves abruptly, robe trailing behind him.

Just as you were about to turn to Ominis, he stands up. "Omi?"

"You should've known better." Ominis mutters. Your breath hitches at his words. He follows through with Sebastian. Your hand clenches into a fist.

"Y/N," Nora grasps at your arm with slight comfort. You couldn't be mad at her even if you wanted to. "Are you okay?"

Your head is lowered, hair framing your face as you try to gather your emotions. You then turn towards her with a smile you've practiced from your childhood days.

"I'm fine."

The silence was unbearable.

You're not sure when was the last time you and Ominis were seated together in a room, alone—much less the receiving room of your manor. You can feel the nervousness clawing up your throat. Your mother had persisted on the two of you visiting the manor during your winter break. You wanted to accept the invitation at first, seeing as this was an opportunity to spend time with Ominis.

But seeing the disdain on his face as soon as you told him the news, somehow regret only fills your body. You had no choice either way.

"Is Hogwarts treating you well?" Your mother sips her tea with the elegance fitting for her role as the matriarch of the house. You shift in your seat, uneasy from her attention.

"Well enough," Ominis answers from your side. His face lacks the enthusiasm of talking to your family.

Your mother furrows her eyebrows at the response but doesn't say anything regardless. "I do hope you're both preparing for your engagement once you graduate in 2 years. Merlin knows how much both of our families have prepared for it."

You nod submissively, unable to resist the pointed stare your mother gives you. Ominis stands abruptly at her words, not opting to pardon himself as he walks out of the room. There's paused silence before your mother scoffs.

"Insolent child," She seethes, taking a sip out of her cup. "If it weren't for his family name and heritage, we would've found you a more suitable heir to marry. Merlin knows his family's treating him like a dispensable asset, when his brother's already married and up to take the role as head of the house."

You sit silently, eyes focused on the untouched cup of tea. Your mother's voice booms through the room, causing you to flinch at its sudden intensity.

"Go after him, Y/N. Beg on your knees if you have to. Keep him tied to the leash before he goes off pawing at others." Your mother orders. "Your sister's a testament to that. Do I make myself clear?"

Your mother's word was law. Everyone in the house knew that. Even your father, who is recognized as the head of the house. She easily controls those around her to do her bidding, and those who resist are met with dire consequences. You'd rather be by her side than against her blade.

"Yes, mother."

You found him by the courtyard.

Your family dog, an Alpine Mastiff that was gifted for your father by a collector of muggle creature, pants against his lap—enjoying the gentle caresses that Ominis runs through his fur. He sits against the huge tree in the middle, the leaves giving his face a gentle shade from the light. You make careful steps before standing in front of him.

"Feeling lethargic, Omi?" You smile. The dog, Xavier, looks up at you with its sleepy eyes before yawning against Ominis's touch.

"I told you to stop calling me that." He replies, eyes devoid of emotion. He merely runs back and forth Xavier's fur as if its stimulation calms his nerves.

"You never allow me to call you anything." You retort, voice calm as you look down at him with a forlorn expression. He doesn't need to know that.

Ominis shakes his head, a sarcastic smile on his lips. "That's because we're not friends."

You purse your lips before responding. "If you say stuff like that, I'll get hurt, Omi."

Ominis chuckles. "You've bound me to your chains, made me a spectacle with your jokes, and you're worried about getting hurt over the truth?"

You stared at him as he continues to pet the massive dog on his lap. You've gone through this routine before, and you'll go through it again. Why get hurt now?

There's a miniscule pause of silence before you let out a laugh at his words. "So touchy with everything, Omi. You really hate me that much?"

It's a joke. Don't take it to heart.

"Yes," He answers with no hesitation, face devoid of any emotion. He finally looks up and its as if those beautiful cloudy blue eyes could stare through you. "Yes, I do."

It's not true.

You've observed Ominis enough to know what he's thinking.

As much as others regarded him as an intimidating figure, he quite wears his heart on his sleeve. You know when he's angry, when he's joking, being sarcastic, sad, or whatever version of Ominis you're facing for the day. You didn't spend 8 years of your life loving him just for you to not recognize every detail on his face.

You've known him well enough to recognize patterns on his behavior, subtle differences to his emotions, and his current mood of the day. If anything, you're well versed in Ominis's body language, that you've grown well accustomed to how you act around him based on it.

That's why besides you're being hit with two realities, instead of one.

You've watched them from across the hall, chatting up a storm as the three of them were huddled in the corner. You've long since opted to observing them rather than being in the group itself, and ever since then, you've begin noticing things you weren't supposed to.

"What's got you looking so focused there?" Imelda's voice reaches your senses as a figure settles beside you. You give her a glance before looking back at the trio. She hums, following your line of sight. "Looking at your asshole of a lover boy again?"

"Don't I ever?" You sarcastically remark, laughing slightly. Imelda looks at you with a slight raise of her eyebrow.

"Wow," She nods. "That's improvement. You don't make sarcastic remarks when I point out your obsession with white boy over there."

You glance at her, heaving a breath as you contemplated letting Imelda know of your thoughts as of late. You suppose that she's the only person who has been real with you since the start. Everything's been a blur since your visit with Ominis to your manor. You've been trying your hardest to appear normal but things had just gone way off. You've started to distance yourself as well, only responding when asked or talked to—which most of the case is Nora's doing. Though, with Sebastian's constant needs for adventure and Nora's inquisitive nature, she had also lost the attention towards your interaction with the group.

With Ominis, you knew well enough that wherever Nora and Sebastian went, he went to as well. You've seen the three of them flee the Great Hall, not minding your lack of presence to the group. 4 years as a group of friends and 8 years with Ominis, and they haven't had a single thought about you that passed through their minds.

You suppose you should've gotten used to their exclusion to your presence. You're partly aware that this is due to the engagement between you and Ominis, how much he despises the centuries-old tradition of marrying those of the same stature as he is. How much he detests the forced nature of your relationship. You wished you had the power to null it, to start over, and meet him under different circumstances. To dream of a reality where he actually finds love in you, and wishes for a future with you in it.

But alas, life is hard for someone like you. To hold so much authority within your fingertips but be shackled by tradition and generational trauma. You've long accepted your demise.

"Ominis likes Nora." The words slips out of your mouth with ease. Like what you just said was something out of the news. Imelda chokes at what she hears. You look at her with concern.

"E-excuse me?"

"Ominis likes Nora." You repeat calmly. Imelda sweatdrops, moving to stand in front of you as she analyzed your facial expression.

"You're saying that like it's the weather—are you okay?" She asks, worried.

You shrug, eyes looking down at your twiddling thumbs. "It's inevitable. Everyone knows about it, no?"

Imelda pauses, face cringing as she places her hands on her hips. You chuckle at the silent admission. "I'm always a bit too late."

"Look, Y/N," She sighs, taking a step forward as she places a hand on your arm. "Ominis was doomed to be your fiance from the start. He's an asshole and just overall rude! You've got nothing much to lose anyway!"

Your tongue darts out to lick your bottom lip before pulling between your teeth. "I do. That's not how it works, Imelda."

You glance up at her, finally meeting her concerned eyes. She lets out a breath at your forlorn expression.

"I always knew Ominis didn't like what we had. I've spent most of my childhood years with him to not know the familiarity of his disdain." You reply. You recall the times you've received cold and indifferent actions from him. "He's made himself clear. I was always the one who wanted more."

"Y/N," Imelda sighs.

"I don't think Ominis ever considered me to be someone dear to him," You whispered. "I had always been something he easily cast aside. A nuisance—I've seen the way he whispers to Sebastian whenever I've said something they considered out of line. I was never something he deemed important."

Imelda is silent. You heave a sigh.

"He's happy now." You mutter. "Nora's everything I'm not, and even if I wanted to hate her, despise her—she's so pure and likeable that it's so unfair. Why is it so unfair?"

You feel tears well in your eyes. Imelda's breath hitches at the sight. She looks around, trying to see if anyone was watching. She then hears the familiar voices of the three. Soon enough she sees them walking over to pass by their area. Imelda did what she could only think of.

She pulls her off her robe before throwing it over your head, shielding you from their stares. She pulls you in her arms as the three near towards you. You couldn't see a thing but you could hear them.

"... Imelda?" Sebastian's voice comes out as confused, probably because of her hooded figure. "What's up?"

"Hey!" Imelda smiles, hands making gentle pats to your back. "Friend's not feeling well. Hope you don't mind."

There's pause of silence before Ominis responds. You feel your heart speed up. "Ah, hope they'll feel better."

"They hear that quite well!" Imelda responds with enthusiasm. You slump against her hold, feeling lethargic from thinking.

"Alright, we'll get going." Sebastian waves before the two follow them off. Just as the three of them began to make their way down the hall, you hear Nora suddenly backtrack.

"Ah, by the way, if you do see Y/N around, tell her that Professor Weasley's asking for her?" Nora says. Your body freezes and its as if Imelda had felt it as she had pulled you closer.

"S-sure." Imelda responds. The three of them began to go on their way, chatting and laughing as they disappear down the hall.

Imelda finally pulls her robe off you, eyes filled with concern. "Y/N ..."

"They knew I wasn't around," You mumble, breath trembling, and eyes devoid of emotion. "They knew. He knew."

Imelda raises a hand to fix your hair before smiling. "There's nothing much I can say that will be of help, but I do hope that you'll take care of yourself—Of what you'll do from here on out."

You pause at her words before nodding silently.

The realization settles in and its heartbreaking and grueling. However, despite that, things haven't been much clearer than before. You'll set things right. For him. For yourself.

Because love is your greatest weakness, no? Your greatest threat. Love for him, and love for your family.

Whichever will prevail?

A/N: before yall ask, yes this will have a part 2 ... i just really wanted to finish this and it went beyond what ive planned. stay tuned mwehe!!! this will not have a happy ending btw. the title daffodil's camellia is in reference to their meaning in love. daffodil can mean new beginnings but it can also mean unrequited love, camellia means romantic love or devotion. just wanted to let yall know that!

[sleepyfan-blog]

Soooo how did those “negotiations” go for diplomat reader 😉 (I’m begging for more cato and Titus plz give us that blueberry sandwich!)

Author’s Note: One Blueberry Diplomat Sandwich coming right up~ I hope that you enjoy the fic :D First. Latest. This is NSFW, so 18+ only readers!

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @whorety-k @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Warnings: smut, polyship, polyandry, mild exhibitionism, ask me to tag if there's something that bothers you

Summary: You show off one of the sets of armor you've been gifted to your lovers. Both of them have very enthusiastic responses.

You pause for a moment to do another couple of cooling down stretches, humming to yourself contentedly before noticing that the rest of the small group of mortal diplomats had paused in their stretches and were looking at the door to the training room the group you were currently in had been brought to, in order to go through the physical fitness and basic self defense qualifications that were required of the diplomatic corps under the Lord Regent. 

You look over and smile as you see Cato lingering in the doorway, watching you move, his expression serious and neutral, though his eyes were focused intensely on each movement you made. 

You were wearing a two-piece black undersuit - though you’d taken off the long-sleeved top, revealing your sports bra to preserve your modesty in this space, and had tied the shirt around your waist. Part of the requalifications included being able to successfully get in and out of various kinds of protective armor, as well as move about inside of said armors without throwing off one’s normal rhythms and movements. 

You did enjoy going through the self-defense classes, even though your preferred weapon was either the word you wielded or the stylus you used to write with, you were familiar with hand-to-hand combat as well as a number of widely available small-arms. Mostly Laspistols and their variants as well as knives and daggers, but you’d been trained with a rapier since you could walk, along with dance and elocution lessons.

“Did you need something, captain Sicarius?” The self defense instructor - a semi-retired training sergeant of the Astra Militarum - asked curiously. 

“I… Uh… Uhm.” Cato responds, gaze still focused entirely on you. He seemed to be struggling to find his words, and you could see the way his face was warming to a very entertaining shade of red. 

You cheerfully make your way over to him, putting a subtle sway in your hips as a sly grin appears on your face “Grynx got your tongue, captain~?”

“WHy… You are… What?” Cato manages out.

You frown a little - is he perhaps concussed? You hadn’t expected him to be so wholly startled at your state of dress. He’s seen you in significantly less than what you’re wearing currently. Part of you very much wants to continue to tease the clearly flustered Ultramarine captain, but the rest of you is starting to get genuinely concerned. You send a quick text to Titus [Cato’s acting stranger than normal. Did he get sent head-first through a reinforced wall?]

You get a response a couple of seconds later [Not unless he got yote through a barrier in the ten minutes it’s been since I’ve last seen him. Where are the two of you?] Titus sent.

[In the training room where the diplomatic requals are being held. He’s just… Lurking in the doorway. He’s starting to unnerve the others a little.] You send, as it’s true. The rest of the mortal diplomats up for requalifications have only recently been transferred to Maccrage’s Honor and are still very much unused to interacting directly with any Astartes - much less one with as storied a history as one Captain Cato Sicarius.

[Ahhh. Quick question, love. What are you wearing?] Titus asks, the question feeling a little confusing and out of place.

[Half a black flightsuit, why?] You send back honestly. [I got too warm in the full suit, while I was sparring with some of my fellow diplomats, so I took the top off. I do have something covering my breasts, of course.]

Titus didn’t respond to your text, worried you a little. Especially as the self defense instructor slowly moved towards Cato, having grabbed one of the training staves, and looked like they were about to whack the Ultramarine with it.

Just before Cato was about to be poked by the end of a long, sturdy stick, Titus appeared, stopping dead in his tracks as he looked you up and down. You could see his mind running some sort of calculations very quickly in his head, although what he was thinking about, you could only begin to guess. He turns and looks at the Defensive instructor, asking “Has class concluded for the day?”

“Yes, and these particular diplomats have qualified to test out of the lessons for the next month, particularly her.” The instructor answered, gesturing to where you were standing.

“Fantastic. If you don’t mind, Captain Sicarius and I would like to borrow you, lady diplomat. To go over some practical concerns we have over your security detail during the next planet-side negotiations, due to some new intel we’ve recently been updated with.” Titus responds, taking three strides over and scooping you up, one arm under your knees, the other supporting your back, as he leaned your weight against his armored chest “Unless you have something more urgent to tend to, my lady?”

A small frown appeared on your face as you shift a little, comfortable in Titus’ hold “Nothing that is more important than ensuring the compliance of the Uvranis system. I’m ready to talk to you both about it. I don’t have my pad on me to take notes, but I imagine one or both of you have something for me to write notes on.”

“That we do, my lady.” Titus hummed, turning and leaving the room, moving at a quick but unworried pace. 

He’d carried you perhaps four steps down the hallway before Cato caught up with you and him, swiping you out of the lieutenant’s arms and pressing you up against the nearest wall, kissing you hard on the lips.

You gasp in surprise into the kiss, but respond in kind, melting into his touch, equal parts delighted and confused.

The sound Titus made at Cato’s second question was concerning. A mixture of a groan and a whine as he presses in close, turning your face away from Cato’s and kissing you back, nipping your lower lip “Oh… Throne, please?”

Cato pulls away as your lungs begin to burn for air, just far enough to speak, his lips brushing against yours “You look. So fucking sexy in this. Have you worn armor before? Will you wear armor for us?”

“I… Yes, I’ve worn armor before. Either reinforced grox-hide leather armor incorporated into the outfit I’m wearing for the event as subtle protection against most non-electrified or chain-blades, or the occasional ringed mail, on certain feral and feudal worlds, as part of negotiations.” You answer honestly, startled by the fervor the both of them are showing. “The leather armor is quicker to get on and off, but I do have both of them properly stored in my quarters. They’re further in the back of my closet than most of my clo- woah!”

You squeak as Cato pulls you off of the wall and begins sprinting down the hallway, having slung you over one shoulder, a broad, warm hand keeping you steady ,the other shoving Titus as the other Ultramarine lunged to grab you out of his hands. “Woah! Hey! Loves?”

“You look incredible in the under-armor… I just… Please wear at least one of them for us?” Titus pleaded as he chased Cato through Maccrage’s Honor - the second captain dodging his continued attempts to take you from him.

Other Ultramarines and the occasional serf flatten themselves along the wall, giving you amused expressions as Cato barrels towards your room at speed. This is far from the first time they’ve done this. You’re just grateful these sorts of antics only happen on Maccrage’s Honor, or when you and your lovers are in an Ultramarine owned base, on the occasions that’s happened. “I… Alright.” You didn’t expect them to have such a strong reaction to you potentially being in armor, but you were happy to indulge them.

~

It did not take long for Cato and Titus to bring you to your quarters. Cato impatiently set you down in front of your large walk in closet, and both of them watched you intently as you used your ident-scan in order to get into your closet (it was important to have security on it - not just because there were valuables in there, but there were ways of poisoning someone’s clothes, or slipping in any number of small listening devices - among other things - if your clothes and accessories weren’t properly stored and protected.

Not that they weren’t checked by loyal tech priests regularly, due to your station, but you’d rather be cautious than something unfortunate happening. “Wait out here, you two. I want to surprise you with which set of armor I’m going to wear first.” You instructed them “Why don’t you two get comfortable while I change?”

Cato huffed, pouting at you a little “And what if we wanted to help you into the armor?”

You arch an eyebrow at him. Considering the vehemence the both of them had reacted - “Can either of you honestly say that you’d be able to wait until I’m in the armor to try and get it off?”

“... She’s got a point.” Titus sighed, a dreamy expression appearing on his face, gaze flicking between you and Cato.

Cato harrumphed and sat down at the edge of your bed nearest your closet. “Very well. We shall wait here, per your request. If you need assistance…”

“I’ll call, if I do.” You hum, smiling warmly at both of your lovers, before indulging in kissing them both, before heading back into your walk in closet.

It did not take long for you to find the four sets of armor you’d been gifted over the years. You went with the dyed blue brigandine armored dress, humming to yourself softly as you put on the under shirt you’d tied earlier around your waist. The chest and thigh piece of the brigandine armored dress was sleeveless and had clasps running down the back of the armor - which you could reach with a little bit of stretching, as the lower portion split in the front, covering you to your mid-thighs. You reach for the armored leg and arm pieces, swiftly attaching the correct part of your body, ensuring that the straps were synched down correctly.

The last thing you put on were the leather boots that accompanied this set of armor. You internally debated on grabbing one of your weapons - perhaps your favorite rapier? But you weren’t exactly in the mood to try and spar one of your giant lovers at the moment, so perhaps later. Both were excellent and highly skilled swordsmen, and you’d wanted to clash blades with them occasionally, but hadn’t quite been able to ask yet. 

You pause, catching sight of yourself in the mirrors attached to your closet doors before going back and grabbing several sturdy pins that doubled as emergency weapons in a pinch, tying up your hair out of your face, the way you would when anticipating a potential battle, or when going to spar as loose hair was begging for trouble.

You grin at yourself in the mirror, hoping that Cato and Titus would like the way you looked in the armor - you certainly felt fierce. You take in a couple of steadying breaths and confidently walk out of the walk-in closet, throwing the doors open wide, looking up challengingly at the both of them and asked, posing a little for the both of them “What do you think?”

Titus wasn’t much better, having been leaning against a nearby wall and flailed with a surprising lack of grace, falling to the ground in a loud crash of ceramite on metal as he stared up at you, awe and lust on his face. “You… You look amazing!”

Cato swore softly and nearly fell over as he attempted to stand up from where he’d been sitting on your bed. “Fuck!”

You smile warmly as you walk over to Titus, offering a hand to help him up “Thank you, although I honestly didn’t expect both of you to react so much to me in armor.” Given how important their armor was to them… And to their fellow Ultramarines, perhaps you shouldn’t have been so surprised. For most baseline humans, the only images they had of Astartes were them fully armored. It was incredibly rare to see astartes out of armor unless one was deeply trusted and in constant contact with them, as you are.

Titus took your hand and stood up, before sweeping you off of your feet and kissing you deeply on the lips, playfully nipping on your lower lip before purring into your ear “How could we not, when you look like a goddess of battle?”

Cato was suddenly right next to Titus, using two of his fingers to gently turn your face to him, and kissed you deeply, before you could try and respond to Titus’ goddess comment. He also swiped you from Titus’ arms  in the same movement, carrying you over to bed, setting you on it. “You look… Titus is right.” one of his hands slid under your armored skirt, lightly squeezing your upper thigh, tracing a line up to your lower lips. 

You groan in pleasure and grind down on Cato’s fingers, a needy “Please, touch me more!” Leaving you. 

“As you wish, our radiant lady.” Titus purred, joining you and Cato on the bed, giving you another heady kiss. 

Cato hummed “Should we remove your armor? Or keep it on, as we worship you? You went to all the effort of putting it on…” You can hear the devious smirk on his face, the warmth of his breath as he kisses and nips his way up your inner thighs, his tongue joining the two fingers he’s slid inside of your wet cunt.

A pleased keen leaves you as you grind down on Cato’s face, your legs wrapping around his head in order to keep him in place “I… It’d take time to get me out of this…”

“Mm,  you’ll find that we are able to get you out of armor quickly, if that is what you wish.” Titus hums, his hands having loosened the straps of your chest piece in order to reach down the gap to gently squeeze one of your breasts, teasing the dusky nub, prompting you to shiver in pleasure and anticipation.

Cato hums in agreement, and the vibrations through your core cause your toes to curl at the stimulation. 

“I- ah! - Alright!” You cry out, shivering in pleasure, your legs pressing Cato closer to your core.

Titus grins, starting to undo the straps completely when both Cato’s and Titus’ voxes go off at the same time. A moment later, your vox chimes from where Titus had placed it on your bedside table. You look up at Titus, then down to Cato and sigh. “Titus… GIve me my vox please.”

Titus sighs and Cato, the merciless bastard, starts rubbing little circles into your clit with one of his fingers, still kissing and moving hush tongue in and out of your core, sending waves of pleasure through your body. “Are you sure?”

“It’s.. AH! Probably something - ngh - important!” You manage out, trying and failing to glare at Titus, your legs still wrapped around Cato’s head.

“Very well.” Titus responded, handing you your vox, before returning to getting you out of your armor, kissing and nipping every bit of newly exposed skin.

You fumble with the communicator under the expert attentions of two amorous Ultramarines, making sure that it was audio-only on your side. It was a message from another member of the diplomatic team, having marked the request for communication as urgent. “Yes, I’m here. What’s going on?” You manage out, hoping that your voice doesn’t sound as breathy to them as it did to you.

Titus has undone the last of the straps of your armored dress, pulling it off of your body as Cato continues to drive you mad with his tongue and fingers buried deep inside your core.

“The situation in the Ulvanis system has changed drastically. They are under siege by Chaos forces and are begging for aid.” The other diplomat explained “The Lord Regent, in his infinite wisdom has arranged for Imperial Aid to be able to chase off those wretched traitors, but that also means that we should probably change our method of approach with the local leadership, once we arrive.”

“Why… Would we need to change approaches?” You ask, keeping your voice as even and calm as you could. “Just because they are given aid, doesn’t necessarily mean that they will be easier to convince to rejoin the greater imperium.”

Which was Difficult as Titus was currently kissing and biting where your neck and your shoulder joined together, intent on leaving a dark love bite that you’d need to cover up later.

Cato, not to be outdone by his second in command, was doing his level best to get you to cum, his tongue pressing in and out of you faster as his finger continues to rub toe-curling circles into your clit. You can feel the oncoming orgasm by the curling in your body, the way you feel your cunt throb in aching pleasure.

“But!” The other diplomat protested “They should be! Given that it is only the strength lent to them by the Imperium that will allow them to stay free of Chaos’ yoke!”

“And the… People of the Uvranis sector are… Known for being quite… Prideful. The fact that they asked for help at all… Means that-” you briefly mute the call and let out a high, pleasured moan, arching into Cato as you clutch desperately onto the bed with the hand not holding onto vox, desperately trying not to cum just yet. Once you’re sure you have command over your voice, you unmute yourself again “-that the situation is likely quite dire. They may be more stubborn, not less. For their possible perceived shame of needing help in the first place.”

“Oh… I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll keep researching what is recored about their peoples and past reactions. Thank you for pointing that out.” The other diplomat responded.

“Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?” You asked, hoping that your voice wasn’t as shaky over voice as it sounded to your ears.

Titus was gleefully teasing your breasts and nipples, pressing kisses to your face and neck, leaving more little love bites everywhere he kissed you, finding your sensitive places and teasing them.

Cato was still expertly eating you out, tongue and fingers continuing to tease your cunt and clit. He was humming, quietly enough so that the Vox wouldn’t pick it up, but the extra vibrations were rapidly stripping you of the ability to keep from cumming. 

“That’s all. Should I schedule a meeting with the full team about this?” They ask.

“Everyone’s going through the combat re… Requalifications today, and will probably be too worn out to be effective. Maybe tomorrow or the next day?” You suggest. It would take several more weeks of travel to get to the contested sector, so it wasn’t as if the meeting had to happen as soon as possible. Thankfully, as you’re not sure you’d be able to walk to the meeting room under your own power.

“Ah, that’s right. I’ve got to get mine done. Have you done yours yet?” The other diplomat asked curiously.

“I have. As long as you’ve kept to the mandatory fitness levels, you should be fine. I’ve got to go.” You respond, ending the call before they could say anything else, You shudder and gasp a couple of moments later in the evil, terrible, talented hands of your lovers as you cum less than a second later “FUCK! Titus! Cato! Ah…”

“Yes?” Cato purrs, his breath warm over your core, his lips brushing against you as he speaks. 

“Did you need something?” Titus drawls, an evil grin on his face as he gives you another nipping kiss to your neck.

“You’re both… So… Augh! Hah… Impossible.” You half grumble, the high activity from earlier in the day - and the intense orgasm courtesy of your lovers having worn you out.

“We aim to please.” Titus hums, kissing you on the lips.

You feel Cato nod before nuzzling your thighs. “Tired?” He asks, a teasing tone in his voice.

“You two may be used to combat training all day long, but I’m not, so  yes. Yes I am.” You sigh, uncrossing your legs and tapping Cato twice on one side with one of your feet.

He silently responds by standing up and joining you and Titus on the bed properly, Cato licks his fingers clean of your slick before resting his dry hand on one of your knees as your legs come to rest across his lap.

“Then rest, love. You are always safe with us.” Titus promises, giving you a gentle kiss on the lips.

You hum back in response before saying, as your eyes close “I know… I love you both, so much.”

“And we love you too, our lady.” You hear them both murmur at the same time as sleep takes you under.

[sapphicdib]

Your cycle consumes itself. What have you become?

(ˡ��ʳᵉ ᵈᵘᵐᵖ ᵇᵉˡᵒʷ ᶜᵘᵗ)

SO THIS IS MY INV VS SAINT AU!! It started as a shitpost and uh. Spiralled. Out of control. And now it’s genuine lol.

Enot and Saint are basically mortal enemies, and Saint needs to get Enot OUT OF THE CYCLES in order to continue his work, because this damn horny bastard won’t stop hunting him down…for some reason. Isn’t ascension the greatest gift you can bestow upon the creatures suffering in this barren wasteland? At least Saint thinks that. Inv, on the other hand, does not.

Enot stumbles upon Pebbles while passing through the silent construct, trying to find food one day. He takes a liking to this half-dead pink toaster, bringing him scraps of fabric as blankets and lanterns, and the best part…talking to him. Inv, somehow, can talk to iterators. And despite Pebbles’ very limited ability to reply, he does appreciate the company, and slowly the cycles become less agonizing. Pebbles has a friend. However, when Saint finds him, his immediate reaction is to attempt to ascend him—and he is tackled by a very angry slugcat, hissing and spitting at him in defence of its friend.

When Saint attempts to ascend him, he misses, just barely clipping Enot’s tail and glitching him half-out of reality. He then realizes, to his horror, that his karma seems to be draining. Whatever the hell this thing is, it’s dangerous, and Saint retreats to restore his karma (and heal some of the nasty wounds Enot gave him).

Inv turns back to see Pebbles, staring at him in pure fear, before he simply whispers out a “Thank…you…”. And that’s when Inv makes it his mission to save Pebbles (and everyone else) from Saint.

This leads to Inv running around the map, hot on Saint’s heels, trying to get any and all the iterators to figure out a way to get off their damn strings and LIVE again! Most of them are collapsed or semi-collapsed, so it’ll be an uphill battle, but when a glitchy, teleporting slugcat with the ability to speak tells you to do something…you’d be kinda inclined to do it.

Anyways the reason Enot can’t be ascended is because he is happy to give in to every single one of the great taboos. Wrath, Lust, Friendship, Gluttony, and Self Preservation. He revels in them. And if he can help the others experience them, and become happy with living again, they’ll be immune too! Also he is ridiculously OP to the point of him basically just having DevTools active because I think it’s Funny. He can glitch-teleport and drains the karma of beings around him. He also talks super casually and I think it’s funny.

A little bit of their dynamic hehe:

“Hey, pal!”

“I would like you to stop calling me that, please. You may call me the Saint.”

“Ahah. Not happening.”

“You are incredibly disrespectful.”

“Hey man, I’m not the one calling myself a saint but then running around killing shit and acting like it’s a good thing.”

“You use such vulgar words. I ascend beings, freeing them from the torment of these endless cycles. It is my purpose.”

“Even the ones who don’t want to go? Bro, you don’t even ask. The last robot you almost merked was screaming “no wait” at you, and you still think you’re in the right here? You’re not some kind of righteous saint, that’s called being a fuckin’ serial killer.”

“You do not understand what you are talking about!”

“Whoa, buddy! Are you gettin’ mad? Ain’t that…a lil taboo? PFFT look at your face!”

“I am not tolerating this any longer. Goodbye.”

That’s all I can think of rn! Send asks if you like!

[pessimisticpigeonsworld]

If Nettles was white, she would be as popular as Lyanna, Brienne or Arya, and y’all know it.

She grew up a homeless orphan (which is why it’s so insulting when people try to act like she’s a freaking idiot who doesn’t know how to bathe herself yet she can tame a dragon🤦🏽‍♀️ Put most of the highborn women in her position and they wouldn’t survive a day in her shoes).

She’s the only known non-Valyrian dragonrider who claims a wild dragon. A prince who believes in Valyrian supremacy falls in love with her to the point where he’s willing to sacrifice his life for her. Nettles singlehandedly disproves the whole idea of Targaryen exceptionalism and their blood purity. She slowly earns a dragon’s trust by bringing him sheep, and gradually he lets her closer, and then forms the dragonrider bond and lets her fly. up until this point, nobody had tried a strategy like that before.

Nettles is self-made. She’s self-taught. She’s loved for herself. She survives a freaking war and becomes a fire goddess/witch. Who wouldn’t want her ? Who wouldn’t want to be her ? Unlike Rhaenyra and Alicent, she’s the final girl of F&B.

Once again, I don't understand where you got that I'm anti Nettles? I'm anti Nettles x Daemon, but other than that theory, I very much am a fan of Nettles as a character. I won't say that there isn't racism and unfairness that happen regarding Nettles' character (though I haven't seen it personally), because people can be really shitty. But me personally, again, I'm not anti Nettles, I just dislike certain groups of her stans.

Again, I don't deny that Nettles was a strong woman. She endured many things most characters in F&B don't and most likely survived the Dance. However, I do disagree with some of the ideas you're stating as fact.

For starters, we don't know if Nettles is non-Valyrian; that's one of the many theories surrounding her, but it's not confirmed, so stating it as fact is misleading. Just because she lacks traditional Valyrian features doesn't means she isn't a dragonseed.

Jace and his brothers don't look Valyrian but they very obviously are of Valyrian descent. Rhaenys, the queen who never was, had black hair; Duncan the son of Aegon V looked like his mother, Betha Blackwood; Aegor Rivers also had black hair; Baelor Breakspear had dark hair; Daeron son of Maekar had sandy brown hair; Rhaenys the daughter of Rhaegar had her mother, Elia Martell's features.

Moving on, Daemon's relationship with Nettles is ambiguous. We don't know if they were in a romantic relationship or if his attack on Aemond was purely to save her (though I'm sure that was part of his decision). Again, you are stating a theory you believe as fact, even though it's unconfirmed.

I'm not going to touch the whole thing of Targaryen exceptionalism, because, as I said earlier, Nettles' parentage is unconfirmed. But the whole blood purity thing still hasn't been disproven at any point of GRRM's works; they intermarried to preserve their magic blood, the magic blood still exists in ASOIAF due to the incest.

Nettles is an important character in the story of the Dance, but she isn't the "final girl" you claim she is, let alone of the whole book. There are several dragon riders who survived the Dance and thrived. Rhaena is the ancestor of the Tyrells in the main series. Aegon III is the ancestor of Daenerys, the Baratheons, any remaining Blackfyres, and possibly Jon Snow and Young Griff. Baela and Alyn are the ancestors of Aurane Waters and the Velaryons.

The book of F&B is so much more than the Dance of the Dragons. Saying that Nettles is the "final girl" of the book doesn't make any sense when she only appears in a few sections. That's like saying Alys Rivers is actually the main character of the book. Nettles disappears after the Dance and doesn't appear in any other event. She does nothing else after her disappearance and has relatively little impact on the history of Westeros post Dance.

I have absolutely no idea where you're getting the whole "fire goddess/witch" thing. However, you have already been throwing out theories and your personal biases as fact, so I don't think it matters. I'm not trying to control who your fav is, I totally understand wanting to be a certain book character. But that doesn't mean you can act like everyone else is wrong for not having the same fav as you.

It's that kind of entitlement, thinking you're better than everyone else that makes people not like Nettles stans. It's almost on par with stansas and Alicent stans. People like you project so hard onto your favs, you take any perceived insult, critique, or argument as a personal attack. It's exhausting interacting with people like you.

[none-shall-caricature-me]

What exactly is Albert's plan ? Why is there a picture of him and Monsieur M together ? Why does Albert seem to dislike M in it ? How are TWDAK and VTSOM lores linked ? What is the deep, thematic significance behind Albert's views on Vincent ? What exactly are the dream eaters ? Buckle up, this will be a multi - part analysis and we'll have to go in a sequence of steps.

Ok, recap of the basics first. Albert's dream therapy ability is basically some neuroscience - based technology that allows him to hijack people's brains for a while - that is how he is able to communicate with total strangers and influence his office environment, affect a monstrous appearance, give jumpscares and control his victims' fates in their dreams. It explains the bizarre, nightmarish feel of TWDAK.

Then what do the dream eaters do ? How are they made ? Let's go step - by - step into my explanation :

Albert very deliberately administers nightmares to his dream therapy candidates to select an 'army' for his grand plan to revive G2 district. Those who succumb to fear in the nightmare and blindly obey all his instructions perfectly as self - preservation essentially give up control of their fate. They let him decide their fate in their dream.

Now, dreams reflect a person's personality too - they are our memories and neural connections rehashed and mix - and - matched. Albert taps into a person's psychological wiring and instincts through the therapy.

Which means that the 'patients' who obey him out of pure fear are likely to be paranoid and passive when faced with unfamiliar dangers. Therefore, he can easily manipulate and control them using their fear. This could explain the dream eaters' lifeless, gloomy appearance and perpetual silence - it's like they're frozen in a constant state of fear. It's why they're perfect soldiers for his army- they won't rebel, and they are willing to 'eat' victims and follow orders to save their own selves.

You can't control a nightmare. Like any dream, it is formed by your random memories and instincts, random brain connections firing and combining. It's a situation where you're helpless to your psyche, to your subconscious. In Albert's therapy, it's a situation where you're helpless to HIM. How you react depends on your long - honed psyche, who you are deep down.

Think about your nightmares. To give my own example, I've had nightmares about being eaten alive by cannibals, being bombed, being unloved and alone, serial killers, my family and myself becoming evil and harming one another, etc. In some I remember fighting back. In others I was powerless and gave up.

Those like Taylor, who fight back despite being stuck in a horrifying situation they can't understand, show that they have a strong, hopeful outlook somewhere. They use logic as best as they can to do whatever they can. That's why they'll contribute to a G2 that has many pioneering, exceptional citizens.

Why do the dream eaters 'eat' victims ? Why are they 'hungry' ? Why do they need to 'eat' at all ? What happens to a victim who gets 'eaten' ? This is very meta - I think, since in the game everyone you get eaten Taylor urges you to try again and the game loops back, those who get 'eaten' get stuck in the nightmare. They're stuck until they either obey and become Albert's army members, or rebel and get spared. The purpose of dream eaters is to ensure the candidate can't escape till they prove their worth either way. That is Albert's plan for G2 - use the dream eaters to test people's worth, make them either useful to him as testers for other candidates, or leave the 'exceptional' ones be to hopefully improve G2.

What else do the dream eaters do besides acting as a test for candidates' worth ? Is it possible that Albert can do some Inception - style shit, influencing powerful people's decisions by implanting ideas into their psyche ? Is that how he plans to change G2 ?

Remember VTSOM ? Monsieur M's plan is to replace the 'inferior' human species with the much faster, smarter, stronger, modifiable cyborgs. That's his idea of improving life forms and the world. Whereas Albert's idea of improving G2 district is NOT by rejecting humanity but by finding and embracing its exceptional side. He taps into people's subconscious to find the brave, the fearless, those who can retain sense and logic under extreme stress. And that's why Albert dislikes M. M rejects humans totally, deriding them at many points in VTSOM. But Albert sees that humans can be pretty awesome, or atleast useful.

Now, the link between Albert and Vincent. Albert says that Vincent had great potential, but he saw him let it go to waste. Keep in mind the points above, and now remember - Vincent used to be someone who would rebel against society, accept loneliness because he wouldn't compromise on his principles and beliefs. He used to be brave. But then, he grew tired of loneliness. Which is all well and understandable to Albert, except that then Vincent, in his desire to belong and to be accepted at Myers, became a total slave to them. He committed atrocities he didn't want to commit, abandoned his principles and vision for change, because he was deathly scared of ending up alone and unsupported. He could've changed things, he had the aptitude and the attitude, but then he became just another brick in the wall of corporate selfishness. Another pawn for everything wrong with society. That's what Albert means when he says that Vincent wasted his potential. He gave into fear and lost himself. He had not a flight, not a fight, but a 'freeze' reaction to the threat of ostracision - blindly obey the very shady Monsieur M, hoping M would spare him because he licked his boots.

THIS IS MY ORIGINAL ANALYSIS / THEORY. DO NOT DARE TO COPY, REUPLOAD OR REPOST. REBLOGS ARE WELCOME.

[rockybloo]

I have no idea how to start this post off so I'mma just jump right in to the deep end with it -

I prefer not watering down Nana into a "angry and aggressive black woman" stereotype, even though I am black myself.

She's honestly the most chill out of the Fabled Five and doesn't do much until she is provoked. She sadly suffers from RBF (resting bitch face syndrome) but she's chill, just very introverted. Nana is certainly the most combat ready of her friend group but that's because she has to be with the way the world is in Beanstalked, especially with her being Bookmarked and part Lupine. Two things that means the odds of the world around her are against her.

She knows how to fight because her father taught her self defense all the way up to his death so he'd never have to worry about her being in danger and having to rely on someone else.

And her boyfriend struggles somewhat when it comes to battling, so she typically swings in to save him on multiple occasions.

Nana was taught to fight and and make herself lethal as an act of self preservation - which is why she doesn't fight for fun and rarely ever spars. And it's why she hunts purely for food and not sport.

Her being the strongest and deadliest member of the Fabled Five is because she winds up becoming a protector of sorts for the crew since they are her closest friends, and it's nice to have the strongest member of a team be female for once when that is typically reserved for male characters.

In the modern AU, and various other AUs, Nana still knows how to fight, typically because her father taught her since self defense is multiuniversal but I don't put her in the exact same position as her canon self where she has to fight to stay alive. It's why she's a singer in the 1920s AU or a gymnast in the Olympics AU If she was in a more safe environment, she'd wind up picking up some uncombative hobbies.

I think the only AU I got where she fights for a sport is in the boxing AU where Jack is a boxer, and Nana's father trains him. And that's just because her dad taught her how to fight, again for self defense, and she winds up helping Jack learn how to handle himself in the ring (because I have a soft spot for couples teaching each other combat).

But when it comes to her as a character, she really prefers to be left alone unless she chooses to participate in something.

Nana packs a punch but many don't know just because of her more reserved nature. And those that do learn she do some serious damage, typically deserve it, unless they are just a bystander.

[fangsandfeels]

i've been thinking about your latest spawn siblings meta since you posted it. i don't know why, but i assumed all the other spawns used the same seduction method as astarion and were probably forced to sleep with cazador's victims, especially since that i saw how petras attempts to reel in tav if they're alone. using similar lines as astarion as if they were trained. astarion says that some of his marks were brothel-goers, so we know cazador forced him to pose as a prostitute, and i assumed that might've been true for all his siblings. (then again, we know astarion was cazador's favorite, and this was a bad thing for him. 'particular attention' was paid to his punishments. so he was also likely more vulnerable to the sexual abuse cazador could force them to endure)

but that was a very good point about the most productive spawns, leon and violet, were both likely able to use magic. it also kinda reinforces what astarion says about himself: sex is "my only talent, i'm fully aware" if you're cruel to him in his act 2 confession, or his breakup dialogue in act 3 if you didn't get the confession "these are the talents i have." even cazador's other spawns had other talents to lure in marks and could preserve some dignity, whereas astarion just had to resort to being used for his body. that must've been so horribly isolating and humiliating for him. it makes me wonder what tactics the others, aurelia dalyria yousen and petras, might've used.

Hi! Sorry for the belated response.

My thoughts about spawns and their differing luring methods are based purely on theory (we have no evidence that other spawns didn't use seduction to lure victims) and Cazador's glaring miserable inferiority complex. Also, when put in an entirely new situation and facing a choice (bring a victim or get flayed), each of the spawns had only what they previously used to be good at as their saving straw - so, to be more precise, Cazador didn't tell them to lure victims in any specific way. He just knew they would have to apply their skills in a new twisted way.

As for Astarion and why his method was mostly seduction...the more I think of it, the darker are my guesses. We all know who had been telling him that sex was his only talent. And if Cazador Turned Astarion when he was a young adult, still figuring himself out...I assume he took particular joy in taking Astarion's future and potential choices away from him, which also included reducing his sense of self-worth and making him think he is only good for his looks and body. He was not to discover any other talents he had. He was not to think that he was good for anything else or worth anything on his own.

So, the deep headcanon of mine is that Astarion was Cazador’s least favored spawn and the most favorite spawn to torture in any way possible because he reminded him of himself. Not in terms of personality, probably, but…maybe his mere existence made him bitter.

A young elf, probably (certainly) a beloved son who got to leave to explore the world, make his mistakes and choices, a beautiful snobby chatterbox who is yet to learn that actions and choices have consequences...All of it made him seethe because Astarion had something Cazador didn’t -- and while he would never admit it (he is a vampire lord! He is powerful! Feared! He has everything he wants!) he became obsessed with the idea of teaching “the boy” some manners, of magnifying his downsides and stripping him of his dignity. And the more he tormented Astarion, the more he saw himself (the part of which he hated and wanted to forget) in him, and the more he saw it, the crueler he got. I think that also explains why he is so fixated on Astarion in his diary; while he would certainly throw a paranoid tantrum if any of his spawns escaped, but in his obsessive notes, he refuses to believe that Astarion got away, that there is an ounce of fight left in him and that he hasn't broken him to the point where he would crawl back, begging for forgiveness. He seems to shun the mere thought that his punching bag, his favorite object for projection, has been stronger than him all along.

It's similar to how an abuser would torment, gaslight, and degrade the shit out of the younger person just because the latter has an entire life ahead of them, which makes the abuser feel inadequate about themselves. So they mask that sense of inadequacy with acts of cruelty, by exerting their power in any way possible -- while endlessly reminding their victim of their worthlessness as a person (without their "guidance", of course).

[thursdayinspace]

But now I'm thinking about the dynamic between Jack and Ianto during CoE, the whole mess about being a couple or not, the way it hurts to see Jack pushing Ianto away like that. Especially when Jack had been the one to ask Ianto on a date in the first place, so he very much implied that that was where things were going for them - becoming a real couple.

Only then one thing leads to another and suddenly they *are* a couple and Jack panics and acts like it's the last thing he wants. Towards the end he has started actively downplaying and sabotaging their relationship. It feels like he's trying to make Ianto break up with him and that makes *so much sense*. Because he really actually fell in love; he's not just dating this guy, he can imagine a future with him, and that's the one thing he can never have. What does it have to feel like, knowing that everyone you love and everyone you ever will love will die and you'll have to live without them forever? It's no wonder he doesn't want to commit to anything because the more you love something the more it hurts to lose it.

But he can't leave Ianto. His heart has already made the commitment he can under no circumstances allow himself to make. None of that is a conscious thing. It's pure self preservation, pure survival instinct. He needs Ianto, but that need is the thing that will one day break him. So he needs Ianto to leave *him*. He needs Ianto to believe that there's nothing between them that's worth fighting for. (Whilst a small part of him maybe wants the opposite: Ianto convincing him that they're worth all the pain.)

That doesn't make it okay how he treats Ianto. But those two are really seriously NOT good at communicating. Ianto deserves more. Jack is pushing him away without any sort of explanation. And Ianto is so loyal and doesn't accept it even though it's obvious how hurt he is. I wish we'd had a chance to see how all of that would have evolved from there. Jack does not want to hurt Ianto, but he does, and at some point Ianto would have snapped. He loves Jack, but he would not have let himself be held at a distance forever, not after everything they'd been through and all their relationship development (very much including the audios here).

I would have loved to see their breaking point. The point where one of them would have said "okay, enough," and ended it. I think a proper breakup would have been what they needed, a real cut, to reset from there. To see what being apart is like - especially Jack. But Ianto as well. They NEVER TALK about each other's fears and insecurities and they need to. They wouldn't just see a relationship counsellor or sit down over a meal and talk about their feelings. They need a proper shock to wake them up. Maybe Ianto only almost dying in CoE, a miraculous last minute rescue? And then the two of them having all that between them, Jack's "I take it all back, but not him!" and Ianto's "I love you." That would be something to work through. It would be too easy for that to fix anything, but it would be pivotal enough for them to probably spiral completely out of control as they try to unravel the mess that is their relationship.

TL;dr: I think Jack lashed out because he couldn't leave Ianto but also didn't want the pain of losing him. Ianto deserved more than that. And I think no amount of talking could have fixed them at that point, but if they had let it break them, they might have found the strength to work through it and emerged from it stronger than ever.

And now I'm basically writing fic at this point so I'll stop.

[lenaellsi]

if you take "I can make a difference" at face value you simply must also consider "you're the bad guys.” like they are both vital aspects of aziraphale's decision. the problem is not just aziraphale's attempt to lead a corrupt system, it is also his continued belief in the superiority of heaven and angels over hell and demons. that's why crowley was so hurt. it's not just a miscommunication, or a disagreement on the practicalities of changing hearts and minds in heaven--it is a fundamental misunderstanding of morality and of crowley as a person. if crowley had asked aziraphale to come to hell to help fix it and protect the earth, he would not have gone. he says so. it’s not just about safety, or reform. it is about being Good.

and all of this happens because aziraphale is not just motivated by fear and love: he is also motivated by shame. he is insecure in his identity as an angel and a Good Guy, and both his alienation from heaven and his relationship with crowley have always aggravated this insecurity. it’s why shax’s mockery hit him so hard, and why he’s so susceptible to manipulation from the metatron. he desperately wants to be taken seriously and treated with respect and to have power and be an uncomplicated Good Guy, and that is just as much of a motivating factor in his decision as his desire to protect humanity and crowley.

and re: “appoint you to be an angel”: I know people want to insist that aziraphale has never wanted to change anything about crowley, but I’m sorry, I just don’t think that’s true. over and over in season 2 aziraphale demonstrates a desire to sand the rough edges off people and things for the sake of the Greater Good, without consideration for the free will or complex emotions of others. obviously this tendency culminates in the ball, where he exerts control over all of the humans to make everything perfect for maggie and nina, and in doing so, infringes on their autonomy and nina’s (crowley’s narrative mirror!) capacity to feel her own anger and sadness. and he has never liked that crowley is a demon. in his mind, the problem has always been that crowley was put in the wrong category, not that the entire system of dividing people and angels into Good and Bad is ridiculous. that’s the exact lesson he needs to learn.

and yes, his intentions are good, absolutely. I don’t think aziraphale ever acts out of malice, and I do think he genuinely wants the best for the people around him, particularly crowley. after all, if crowley is accepted as an angel again, as aziraphale has always secretly considered him to be, their relationship can (in his mind) finally stop being so fraught with danger and conflict. (the other side of that, of course, is that aziraphale can also stop being so ashamed for loving someone who is supposed to be Bad, and everything in his life will make sense again, the way it hasn’t since he met that star maker who got so upset about god’s plan.)

but that’s not who crowley is, and it never has been. even before he fell, crowley’s recklessness and relentless questions made aziraphale uncomfortable. their relationship has never been safe or easy, and in wanting to make it so, aziraphale is demonstrating a desire to change the parts of crowley that led to his fall, whether he intends to or not.

I’m rambling, but the point is: the insistence on reframing this moment as a purely selfless, calculated, self-sacrificing decision by aziraphale to protect crowley and the world ignores the uglier parts of the things he said in order to make their eventual reconciliation less complicated, and it’s really frustrating to me. crowley is in fact right to be upset by what he said, and it’s not just a misunderstanding that can be fixed with aziraphale saying “I was only trying to protect you!” and another kiss. it’s a culmination of all of the double think aziraphale has been doing in order to preserve his vision of heaven as The Source Of Truth And Light And Good since before the beginning of time, and it’s time for him to finally unpack it.

(and because every post on the final fifteen needs a disclaimer: aziraphale is trying his best and has an incredible amount of love in his heart and wants so badly to do good and ALSO the things he says, does, and believes can be incredibly hurtful and destructive. all of these things can be true.)

[alexanderflowerbird]

little chunk of New Faith I wrote last night; I'm gearing up for my writing group for Not Nanowrimo cuz I'm gonna write this fucking book finally. TW: death, gore, suicide, demon possession stuff

The Dowager home has become a beacon, a hive of activity with all of Mercutio and Vincente’s neighbors turned into mindless worker bees that are swarming in the yard and on the doorstep. Vincente’s stopped the car down the street to watch but even at this distance Mercutio can feel that whatever is wearing Vanessa’s skin is amplifying, expanding outward with a base pulse of pure fucking evil that drums to the anxious beat of his heart. He’s not ready to die. He hasn’t even said out loud how much he loves Vincente, hasn’t tried to kiss him to be dramatically pushed away in rejection, hasn’t fallen in love with someone second best. There’s tons of drugs he hasn’t tried, he’s never been to a theme park, he’s always wanted to visit the city where his parents are from in India, and so much more– there’s so much to live for that he’s fighting the urge to tumble out of the car and run like he’s on fire because they are going to die. The thing in that house is not Vanessa, and if they go in now, God knows what will happen, if He’s even paying attention or gives a shit. What if they’re already eating her, like that girl in Alaska? What if they’re eating her husband, or each other? Cannibalism seems to be part of the sick, corrupt transformation of this new and horrific form of possession, so the people that are steadily wandering down the street towards the Dowager’s, the people in the yard, the people inside– it’s likely that by the end of the night they’ll be dead, chunks torn out of them, blood in their teeth and on their hands and Vanessa will be a pile of parts.

He can’t stop thinking about it– it’s easier to avoid the spiral of detail when it’s some stranger up north, or a town that he never would have known existed if it wasn’t in the newspaper. With Vanessa, who Vincente loves like she is his sister, his own flesh and blood, Mercutio’s imagination is run rampant. Will they break her bones and suck the marrow out? Will they tear at her intestines like taffy? Will they pop her eyes between their canines and suck down the fluid inside? Will they know, somewhere deep down, that they’re eating someone they used to do bake sales with, that smiled and waved when they walked down the street? Or are all the people caught in this trance just… gone? Ms.Dorothy made it difficult to understand. She was gone, maybe, but there, in some ways. Identity adopted, stolen and transformed and made ugly and foreign. But there… he’d felt her, and it, together like a russian doll, one folded into the other, kept inside the other, wearing the same face. He looks over to Vincente, because he isn’t entirely sure why Vincente has stopped. It could be that he’s wanting to observe at a distance, to try and glean some understanding even if Mercutio has already told him none of this makes sense in the ways they know demons. It’s possible he’s preparing himself, Mercutio wouldn’t be surprised at all if he lowered his head and began some long, excruciating prayer calling on all the saints and disciples and Jesus and anyone else important to aid in this insane act of religious martyrdom. Mercutio for his part is praying to all of those useless, ancient figures that Vincente is hesitating because he’s also realized there are things to live for, and going through with this is as good as putting a gun to his head and pulling the trigger, but with a huge helping of irreversible emotional trauma right before hand. A bitter, overwhelming taste of how fucked they are in the form of Vanessa with her stomach cut wide open and her husband made into a thanksgiving turkey followed by a bullet to the dome chaser. Mercutio knows better though. Even as he is half heartedly praying for Vincente to find some shred of self preservation he knows it’s useless. It’s not even because he doesn’t believe so deeply in the ethereal presence of saints or gods, it’s because he knows Vincente better than he knows anyone, and this man will not turn back, now that they’re so close, now that they’re right here and he only needs to park and take those last, fatal steps towards the Dowager household to seal the deal. Whatever he decides to do after that will be grandstanding, a fruitless show of love and devotion that will only end in tragedy.

Mercutio hates this, hates that it will end like this, but he’s here and he won’t let Vincente die all by himself. They’ve been together too long. Best to go out together, with all the potential ahead of them wasted and good intentions to report to whatever waits on the other side. Hell, probably, after all, the road to that particular place is paved with good intentions.

[trinkerichi]

i wrote another big rant earlier today about character analysis again but tumblr refreshed on my phone and deleted it all. ah well

‘twas all about Max this time and the whole “id vs superego” thing they had going on cuz in my humble “took a semester of psychology and child development” opinion I think that theory isnt the greatest but it makes for such interesting character analysis 

So Max is always described as “a being of pure id” while his superego is literally locked in a dark room cut off from the rest of Max’s brain. left so ignored that it manifests itself into a weird little man that Max saw on tv (because it’s this series and of course it did). The fact that Superego apparently HATES Max, seems to barely know anything about him and wants him dead... like WHAT DOES THAT IMPLY? It’s the inside out dilemma all over again but way darker. Max has very infrequent vague allusions to the fact that he’s got some kinda mild depression but I don’t think he genuinely hates himself like that. The most I can see is that he’s got a very weak sense of self preservation. He’s apathetic to his own safety, but again that’s more because of the id thing. 

The superego is supposed to be your sense of right and wrong. It’s your morality and logic system that keeps you from doing things Max does, like screaming in public and attacking people and stealing things. 

I think in the context of the intentions while writing this game, the superego is essentially a more pretentious word for the Max’s conscience. Like a Jiminy Cricket that’s stuck in Pinocchio’s head and can’t leave. Max ignores his conscience, and his conscience is forced to watch all the stupid stuff Max is doing while ignoring any sense of morality. So he’s like “ok screw this guy all my homies hate stupid id bunny”. I think the superego only manifested once Max found the psychic toys since they’re what caused Max’s brain tumor and other such nonsense. Max couldn’t have had that tumor from the beginning because past Max is fine. 

Id is your baseline impulses. Max at his core is constantly acting on impulse and only seeks immediate gratification.  Even his love for Sam doesn’t really contradict this. Sam has ALWAYS been his best friend and protector, so keeping Sam safe and happy will keep Max safe and happy. Max isn’t intentionally mean or selfish, and he’s not stupid either. But his mind works in a very direct thought pattern and he doesn’t think through anything he says or does. And Sam kinda does this FOR him if necessary so he’s never really had to develop that part of himself anyway. Plus they’re both self aware toons, so consequences don’t apply! 

That being said, everyone we’ve seen with “the gift” that uses the toys seems to be doomed in some way, like the toys themselves are cursed with bad luck. Sammun-Mak, Maximus, the brain in the ship, Skunkape, and Max all met their ends indirectly because of the toys. 

Uh i lost track of my point here. just, It’s totally up to interpretation if the superego REALLY is a part of max that resents his own lack of ambition and power, or if he’s just literally detached from Max and is his own disgruntled entity.

[geothewriter]

Zutara Week 2023 - Day 4: Jewel

Note: This prompt response takes place in a museum and is mostly written on a plaque for the exhibit.

Behold! The Jewel of Agni. 

Once thought lost to time and civilizations, the pure ruby Jewel of Agni is symbolic of Fire Nation strength and perseverance. This particular crimson gemstone’s origins lay within the belly of the very volcano that once formed Caldera city. Belched out in a great inferno, this jewel would eventually rest just south of the mainland.

Its many natural facets are intricate. Some have claimed to see the visage of Agni himself within the reflections, if inspected closely. Flames periodically dance within the gem, and reach their apex of activity during the summer solstice, and cease entirely on the winter solstice. Each major facet holds deeper meaning.

The Cloven Facet, located at the top left and is identified by the fracture running through the cut, signifies the fractured history of the Fire Nation, and how once we were once separated into warring tribes prior to unification.

The Sun Facet, located at the very top of the gem is near perfectly circular, and signifies our connection to the ultimate power above.

The Twin Facet, located along the right side of the gemstone is identified by the twinned crystal structure dominating this portion of the jewel. It portrays the nature of Fire Nation histories to wish for a partnership with one nation more than all others, acting as a twin during times of triumph.

The Flame Facet, located front and center is self explanatory. Shaped like a striking fireball, it shows the strength we all have within ourselves.

The Dragon Facet, pictured in the painting below, was lost in 35AG, to damage caused by an earthquake. It signified the glorious companionship our nation formerly had with the dragons. Hopefully one day in the future, we will once again rejoin their kind in union.

This sizable gemstone will be on display here, in the Grand Azulon Museum, until the end of summer, whence it will make its first journey outside the nation in over a century. You can see it at its future exhibit in Ba Sing Se’s Kuei Institute for gemology for the six months it will be on loan.

“As far as explanations go”, Zuko thinks aloud, “That’s roughly all correct.” 

A gemstone is preserved back in the royal palace, hidden beneath a floorboard in Fire Lord Zuko’s private quarters. It was gifted to him upon completion of his training with the Sun Warriors as an act of good faith, along with a golden egg shaped jewel that the young man could swear almost felt alive. He had commissioned a pendant be made that would allow the real Jewel of Agni to be placed within.

The museum exhibit certainly got one thing wrong. The Jewel was not fiery, nor was it even a ruby. The pure sapphire blue gemstone resides within the pendant Zuko plans to gift his future wife as part of their engagement in three weeks.The museum can keep the false gem; he and Katara will know the true history.

If you like my writing, check out my other works over on AO3!

@zutaraweek