#(still don't know the difference between those two)

[spotsupstuff]

Some more thoughts: Please do note these are Thoughts - as in proposing whatever nonsense crosses my mind, ramblings of a lunatic more so than fleshed out cohesive theories. Possibilities.

• I was thinking about the randomization factor of the Watcher campaign and that probably none of us had the same Spinning Top dialogues in the same regions.

I remember being in awe at Shattered Terrace when I was teleported there by Spin exactly for the 4th Ripple point (aka the teleportation got unlocked). At the time I thought the encounters were scripted in Some kind of way, so I was thinking how thematically interesting this was.

She gave me another ability/unlocked it and brought me somewhere ethereal that turned out to be a leading point to her home/darkest moment. The dialogue about her running through halls was given to me in Torrid Desert and I was thinking ,,Yeah... deserts are so empty even with buildings in them. Covered in both sand and dust of time. This really is a place one could miss, remember from childhood."

Then I found out things just happened to turn out like this for me. Based on my choices, circumstances I couldn't control, by paths I took because at the time I didn't know any better, by the power of my dedication to exploring a place whole until I found Spinning Top and the lapses in it.

And I'm thinking- we, as players. Aren't we all ripples of each other, too?

We ,,are" the same character, we meet the same people, yet our journeys are different. So might be our interpretation of these people, giving them slightly different personalities, differently flavoured existence. Our own personalities shaping our perceptions and twisting theirs into something different as a result. Different facets of a reality, yet originating from something Same.

The randomization combined with the lore is SUPER important.

• I adore the warp mechanic so much, both as a transport between regions (though yea, I'd like for them to somehow express themselves on the mind map) and as something the player can do whenever post-Ripple 4.

I was stuck in Fetid Glen with a maidenless frog lodged in my head for like two goddamn hours. I was THIS 🤏 close to losing me marbles.

In vanilla(/DP)? Either put the game down, LOSE those marbles or toughen up, mf (/come up with an alternative way of going about your goals).

Here? I go ˗ˏˋ pop ˎˊ˗ and go into at least a NEW horrendous torture chamber. Thank you, Videocult, you dastardly thing. You were merciful upon my nerves for once in your RW-themed existence.

• It's all flowers... The Rot is represented by a flower guy now/apparently can bloom into Something (Four Petals... the symbol of the first chakra 👁) and Karma Flowers represent Karma.

• Also... the Ancients' name for the Karma Flowers was *Wheel* flower.

Wheel. The symbol of Buddhism is an eight pronged wheel - the Wheel of Dharma/Dharmachakra. Dharma is the name for the teachings of the whole thing.

Both the wheel flowers and the Rot have a cross on them, four lines. Overlayed they have eight together.

Are they two parts of one whole. Is this Rain World's ying and yang. The principle of the universe. Are the Rot and the Karma two strands of teachings of this reality.

• Purple is above blue when it comes to chakras. I interpret the Outer Rim Rot more attuned to the world/more conscious on the basis of this.

• Since four years ago until now I've been convinced and still am that Karma flowers are intimately connected with death. That they are essentially spiritual mourning flowers, sprouting naturally upon death either indiscrimately, or of those with good deeds/high karma pinned to their soul.

Probably the second- the Monk always spawns a Karma flower upon death. And while the Hunter is karmically unbalanced, shunned by the spiritual world (which is why karma flowers don't spawn for it), the spiritual world recognizes its last deed being a Good one. Which is why a Karma flower spawns for Survivor where Hunter has died.

A little mourning flower, last thing left of it- whoever is in charge of the world/Karma letting us know that the Hunter did Good, even if it didn't succeed. It tried its best. That's what matters.

Therefore, my interpretation of the Throne/the gardening ending is that the Throne is essentially a multidimensional mass grave (Throne of Rotted Corpses, if you will)- because the Prince remembers everyone his domain and he swallows- the souls of everything is right there. Beneath our feet, all around us. Contained within his body, if you can call it that.

Maybe the will he mentions isn't something grand outside of all realities, but it's the millions of wills he has supressed within as a result of the expansion.

At some point, he can't keep them contained anymore. Eventually, they break free and sprout as mourning flowers, little flags waving ,,I was here. I lived and will again.".

This wasn't a triple affirmitive. (also pretty sure the biggest karma flower sprouting from the Prince's face is his own mourning flower. he's dead asf. it's probably there because he meant well? this doesn't really add up actually hmm..)

[I like the narrative that nothing of the supernatural is outright evil. There is neutrality- just Being- and then there's goodness. I believe the Void is kind. The religion of the Ancients in its purest form is kindness and freedom. Karma is fairness or a statement. The reality and its ripples just Exist. Sufferings are real though and they are the closest thing this world gets to evil.]

• It's either that ☝ or something something, outside power in the form of the karmic balance of the worlds gut punching the Prince for overstepping the Rot's placement within it.

• On the theme of eyes...

They appear continuosly. Obviously, the Watcher itself. The squeaky toy in Spinning Top's room, her vase has eye patterns as well. Iterators, only having eyes on their faces. I could swear I've seen graffiti that were just eyes. Scavenger Disciples blind themselves. Ancients' masks don't seem to have eyeholes. This room in Infested Wastes is an eye.

Vision, as a means of knowing where to go. Neither Spin or Prince have eyes (that white thang is not an eye and I will die on this hill, it's his god given Stamens). Spin needed our help (unconscious help, we didn't help her directly from own conscious activity). And Prince screwed himself over not really seeing what he's doing (yet Watcher somehow comes out of that unscathed - if it's Karma's ,,vangeance"/it coming back to bite at the one who's at fault, I find it strange that Watcher just gets to watch).

I don't really know how to formate this thought honestly, but my point here is supposed to be something along the lines of ,,If Watcher's whole things are eyes and they are a repeating pattern for us, could we end up with a third eye or something by the end of this story?"

• Idk, I've seen some people talk about this and it smells of a potential discourse: my take on Prince's age is that it either doesn't matter or he's been both.

Doesn't matter: if this consciousness is recycled from a multitude of things, with possibly a Starcatcher (Iterator-esque biomachine, different directive) in the forefront, then this mix is more reborn altered than outright born for the first time + it's partly robot and who the hell is gonna call a toaster or Alexa or whatever a Minor.

Been both (the one I like better): when we meet him he is indeed a child (or fetus if we are talking about his first two dialogues as well), but he does grow up during the whole quest to infect the world. He tells the player during the fifth meeting that it has been eons.

At the end when all the Karma flowers bloom, he's ancient. Spent his whole life off-brand iterating and converting in a dark room without anyone but the Watcher ever checking in on him. I wouldn't call his relationship with the Watcher a childish attachment, more like conditioned by circumstance.

I like this one because it feels like a good parallel to Spinning Top.

She's been stuck in her childish mindset for who knows how long and had to put conscious effort into growing up after the Watcher indirectly influences her towards it. She grows and then passes peacefully; Watcher lingers stuck in childishness.

The Prince grows up in a rather linear way. We see him grow up as a flowerbud, hatched and then see him go as a tired aged thing. He evolves effortlessly, without the Watcher really interfering with That process. He grows and then passes perhaps in pain, prematurely; Watcher lingers again, but now perhaps getting the message it's time to grow up, too.

The Watcher is necessary for Spinning Top's ending but not her beginning, and it is necessary for the Prince's beginning but not his ending (he brought that on himself tbh).

• I'll say, I find it very important that the Prince- despite what he is- is soft spoken (can hear it in his ,,voicelines" - he has a whispery, a bit hissy, quality to his mumbling- he sounds like he's smiling, too, but that just might be me), calm and kind to the Watcher.

It is a good parallel to Spinning Top. She doesn't affect the physical world and she's a fucking brat (I adore her, but good god.). He intends to take over the world, but he's also on par with Moon when it comes to kindness to the player (with the patience and the ,,health" to withstand a slug running around and getting hit by it).

I'd even assume he'd be polite and sweet to other sapient beings, too, but with the twist that his perception of what is ,,morally good" is a bit broken (aka what he says when the player dies to the proto rot underneath his feet).

But what is even more important to me is what this approach-goodness of his means when combined with the Watcher's character.

Watcher is a shy, lonely soul searching for a companion in the sordid world. Aaand he's willing to sacrifice everything that he is and Then even what isn't his to obtain and retain these relationships. He's desperate to have them. They've lost their family and depending on how you've played the campaign, most likely they've recently lost Spinning Top, too.

And then here comes this flowery starshine of a sapient turbo cancer who Is, by all accounts, a solid friend. As in he cares about the little creature's comfort, reassures them they are safe with him, makes the effort not to shower them in his issues. He doesn't press on the Watcher to infect more regions, he's Thankful to them for what they already have done. You could say he really does love them.

If Watcher stopped doing this for him, whether he'd get mad or venomous, only sad or dejected, wouldn't be fazed at all, that we can't really know, but what is interesting is that this possibility can never even come up to consideration.

Because Watcher is so damn desperate to keep him here as a friend that they are willing to damn multiple worlds for it. Even though he never asks for it. They just assume they Have to. That there is nothing else to do, especially with Spin gone, but make the Prince happy and satisfied with them. [this I get from the fact that we as the players don't have anything else to really do. *eventually* we will turn to Prince if we want to progress in something solid. our relationship to him as the story's device can be put on Watcher with a paint job of its emotional desire for connection.]

And I like that as a commentary on the fact that relationships shouldn't be the number 1 priority of a person, because this is what it looks like (highlighted by the extreme situation of There Is Decay Everywhere Now) & as a commentary on that even if a person is genuinely kind and sweet, it doesn't mean staying friends with them is the right decision. Goals of a person matter too and if they should be at odds with one's own priorities/values in life, a seperation is in place.

• Here's a stupid Princey drawing.

Dandelions cover by Disco Face fr fr.

I'm still working on getting the gardening ending for myself, but I've been collecting some ponderings I'd like to write down. So:

A congregate of thoughts on Watcher lore (as of now):

• I really like that this DLC is right now three kids in a spiritual trenchcoat. None of them is normal. I bet they'd all be friends if they met.

• I really like the color coding of these 3, as for what I've assumed regarding to colors' symbolism in this world: - Black stands for Nirvāṇa, the Void, being outside of the reincarnation cycle - Gold/yellow stands for holiness, ascension - Blue/purple stands for damnation/stagnation - White stands for Saṃsāra, the cycle of reincarnation, the physical world (the Watcher lingers in the physical world, unwilling to leave it)

On the account of blue and yellow being on opposing sides on the color wheel, I'd also gander a guess that the Rot and the Void don't entirely agree with each other/may be on opposing sides.

• Therefore, I don't think the gardening ending was exactly what the Rot Prince wanted to achieve, supported by his last two dialogues with the Watcher:

[Greeting lines]. As with all great deeds, my work is not without great challenge. It has taken eons and the light fades. The paths close and change. I can almost feel... a will... at odds with my own.

[Greeting lines]. Forgive me if I go on! You have done so much for me, I will not burden you with my troubles. Please, rest here as long as you wish. You are always safe here, my dear friend. You, who were there for me.

My guess is that the content that hasn't dropped yet will introduce either a new character/s in a sort of godly roles, or will explain the powers playing behind the wheel flowers and the Cycle.

• A light at the end of the tunnel (or something white/bright with a way to it?) is mentioned by both Spinning Top (at her ending) and the Prince (both as a flowerbud and in that first paragraph I copied up there).

I don't know what to do with this yet, I just found it interesting. Something something the white light within the Void Sea in the original game?

• ,,Outer Rim...?"

The Buddhist cosmology says the world is made out of 9 mountains (Mount Sumeru [the axis mundi], 7 golden mountain ranges and 1 outermost iron mountain range [maybe the withered buildings here are made of rusted iron, buried in stardust]) and 8 seas (7 freshwater and 1 saltwater), with 4 continents within the salt sea who's inhabitants each have a little something extra (except the South I guess, that's where *we* are. well apparently all Buddhas appear here actually, so you know. that's a something).

For an interesting example, the north continent called Uttarakuru is said to house the wealthy, owning no private property, where their food grows by itself and they live in the skies (Iterator cities, nudge nudge).

The name of this region could point to the Buddhist cosmological map being a physical fact for this world. I'd like to think that the dimension hopping aspect to the Watcher's worming through the space-time is at least limited to 4 continents(/realities?).

Also a fan fact: in Chinese mythology it is said the waters flow and stars fall slowly, because a water god with a bad tamper, Gònggōng, broke one of the pillars supporting the sky. Combining this fun nugget with the established lore in a pearl that everything is once eaten away by the Void down below, I'd say it is safe to assume on 89% that the dust mentioned in that pearl comes from the heaven itself and creates a sort of a cycle of the physical matter.

Suppose stardust is what creates everything, powers everything (just as is said in science). Suppose the Starcatchers are superstructures made for conversion of it into desired forms, these ones perhaps in the West of the world specifically, because of their circular shape.

(Meaning Signal Spires are perhaps of the South, while original game- aka Pebbles and Moon- are in the North of this world.)

• I find it fascinating and validating that Spinning Top needed some sort of an Embrace from one of the Five Urges/Hindrances (the third one, companionship) to be able to pass on.

It points to my idea of what the religion is Really supposed to be about: the Five Urges are what they are- urges- and they cannot run rampant. The point isn't to absolutely *eradicate* violence, pleasure, companionship, hunger and desire to live from oneself. The point is to be able to control these things and not cling on to them.

Because if one clings on to something, they stagnate, they cannot progress, they rot and they *fear* losing the something more than they can truly enjoy it or they get far too lost in it to feel it right anymore. To cling on to life means being afraid of taking risks, trying something new and really Living.

But now that doesn't mean going for the opposite is the correct way to go about it- that still creates a desire, a clinging- an urge for death is just as good as urge for life. It binds. It's extremism without careful consideration for what is really the best to do, feel and think in any given situation.

(This goes for love, too, it is GOOD to love, but going too far becomes unhealthy obsession instead of love. Going the other way results in hatred, another utterly useless and harmful thing to harbor. Same as indifference - that is stagnation again, that isn't picking up something, working with it to move forward. Love is a forward motion that is required, but cannot be overdone because as so it would be bastardized into something else, possessive and caging.)

Spinning Top could move on only when she knew that the flipside of the Third Urge- a sickening loneliness- wasn't something to fear anymore.

• Yeah, I don't think we can count on backgrounds too much when it comes to size calculating on the basis that they are probably shaped around gameplay. Specifically thinking about how the spinning top toy changes sizes between it's in-game model and the art. When it comes to Ancients, I'd say the best one can do is do what feels right.

• The Rot Prince is some sort of a boosted up Preta, I swear to heavens. Hungry guy. Maybe the Rot as a whole is a Preta stand in, just way more physical.

• Can't believe my ,,Respawning is real" headcanon has been officially given the thumbs down... The *Strand* Theory is real. (Even though DP is separate from the Watcher, this at least explains why Artificer didn't just go back to the last shelter she slept in when her cubs were still with her. They went to a different strand, where a different Artificer managed the situation better and we are stuck in this reality without them.) (We see them in her Void ending either because they are the one thing her heart wishes for [the Void gives comfort to those who are passing, as far as I am concerned], or because the Void is where all the reality strands and times coincide into one another.)

• On that note, no Fucking wonder the Ancients wanna bail - we don't really know to what extend they were aware of reality's unwounding nature, but assuming it is Pretty Thorough, I too wouldn't wanna live with the knowledge that in one reality I might've died on my loved ones, leaving them broken, while in the other everything is just fine and dandy.

The endless wondering of ,,Did I die in a different reality at any point in my life? Did I leave these people I love behind to hurt, alone, and I can't do anything to help them? I can never know, I'm not allowed to comprehend..." would slowly kill anyone with a heart, I think.

• I wonder if the Prince is a puppet/the Rot made itself a puppet, - because the Starcatchers were Iterator-esque biomechanications with a different directive than iterating on the Big Problem and this is a consumed Starcatcher (something about its budding dialogue feels to me like there was a sense of a Self beforehand that was drowned out by the Rot and then was pulled forward again with additions) - because the Rot is at the edge of the universe (humming a tune) where a messed up slugcat decided to start ripping holes in the reality, therefore connecting different strands including to places where the Rot already existed as a plague upon Some Iterator, which gave spark to sapience and inspiration to a new mind

• The new karma set is definitely a droplet and the ripples it leaves behind. Makes sense, too, there's more ,,movement" within it the more Spinning Top yanks the Watcher around in time-space (accidentally, I'd guess. or the ,,blame" is more on Watcher *somehow*), messing up their physical existence more and more.

Maybe the karma symbols or the imagery itself have something to do with a combination of an axis mundi and the strand form of existence.

Something about there being a main timeline in which each action and decision creates a new ripple, a new strand.

• I wonder if the Watcher could've come across Spinning Top and effectively latch on/follow her, - because they were already dead/echoed (the dream sequence upon reaching the final karma level could mean they did go to the Void Sea and swam pretty deep but turned back and that resulted in Echo-ification? then again why can a lizard bite me. Spinny's laughing at me for it. Goddammit.) - because of their nature as someone who's so damn hesitant about things, who hangs in the backlines, only observes and learns. Very Echo-esque personality - because of their desire to have someone there

• Just realized that we have a canonical design for Spinning Top's mask, hot damn. ,,How do children's masks look like?" answered.

I don't know why, that kind of creeps me out.

• The portals existing outside of us are made by Spinning Top, I'm pretty sure. She's always over them.

Is it normal for Echoes to leave tears like that? I think if the Rot Prince met her and knew she's the one who started this whole journey that resulted in him coming to exist as a consciousness and to bloom, he'd see her as a friend the same way he sees the Watcher.

• I wonder if his approach to the Rot Triple Affirmitive is ,,it's going to get worse before it gets better". He has suffered, too- while he normally speaks gently, calmly, orderly, when he is a flowerbud he seems frantic to me. Like someone breathing through death before getting better.

• Is the concept of the Rot Prince created for the first time in all existences' or is he a repeating pattern, too? The Rot in the least seems to be a pattern, because of what Spinning Top says when we meet her in one of the original regions, eaten through by the Rot.

,,You shouldn't have come here. It's too far." Does that refer to this strand's/ripple's distance from the axis mundi/the water drop creating all these realities? The further out the little wave carries out, growing smaller and weaker, the more rotten through it is? Is it because still water is stagnation, just as the Rot is?

So the Cycle is change and movement, life and love, that exists in a hurtful matter not out of its design, but because it has to contend with absolute stillness/stagnation/the Rot? Or it's all part of the same system, truly designed like this?

Could a Mass Ascension be seen as an escape plan from a ripple growing old? Man...

• A quick attempt at illustrating the previous thought:

Some Pepe Silvia level nonsense going on here.

[callsign-rogueone]

a fair trade

aaric graycastle / cam tauri x reader (sunny!!!!) words: 1.2k 🏷: progressing through the beginning of IF! this one has a lot of transitions and jumps between scenes, which is my least favorite thing ever, and a major reason why it took so long, but I wanted to show these two interacting every day and slowly becoming friends, so here ya go! the next chapter will be so much better and much longer, I promise 🥺

It’s incredibly strange to be standing in this corner of the gym again, in the same spot where Nadine had died, and Violet nearly had too, avenging her. You’d never seen that much blood before in your life – but now it’s gone without a trace. Had someone knelt there last night and scrubbed it away, or had it been erased with magic? Which option is worse? 

Aaric appears at your side, speaking softly so as not to startle you. “You’re fast, and you’re smart, but at some point you’re going to have to throw some punches,” he prods. 

That’s fair. You’re the only one of the group who hadn’t made any offensive moves in your assessment match, and the last to find a partner to fight with today. 

“Yeah,” you say after a moment. “I’ve been dreading that part, honestly.”

“Let’s see what you’ve got. Just a basic stance, first.”

You nod, settling into a position that looks something like what you’d seen Imogen do earlier — she’s probably a good bet to copy.

He shakes his head. “Your feet need to be farther apart. And if you tuck your thumb in like that, you’re going to break it. Here.”

He steps forward and adjusts your fist — not missing your inhale of discomfort as his thumb presses against the swollen joint of your ring finger. He pulls back immediately, offering an apology and adjusting the technique. “Sorry. You should be fine to just keep it loose like that, as long as you adjust the impact point — what part of your fist is going to hit your target."

Another nod.

"If you just do... this," he explains, carefully reaching out to rotate your wrist to the side, careful not to put any pressure on the bandage there, "then you can make an impact with your pointer and middle finger. It won't be as effective, but it'll work until your hand heals."

Realistically, it won't — it hasn't shown much improvement since March, and the burn doesn’t help things either — but he doesn't need to know that.

"Don't worry about it too much," he offers, sensing your apprehension. "You’ve got more strength in your legs, anyway.” 

———

Being assigned breakfast duty means fewer hours of sleep, but you’re used to being up this early, anyway – you’d be going to bed at this hour, if you’d stayed in Calldyr City, just dragging yourself into the bathing chambers to hose off the sticky feeling of the ale you’d been serving, and the unwanted attention you’d been paid.

Someone is waiting for you outside the girls’ dorms; Aaric. He looks a little shy, shifting his weight awkwardly as he speaks – at a whisper, considerate of those who have been afforded the precious extra time to rest. “I saw you got breakfast duty, too, so…”

You give him a warm smile. “Glad to have a familiar face around. Do you have any idea where we’re going?”

It’s evident that he hadn’t thought this part through. “No, actually. But it can’t be far from the mess hall, right?”

You just hum in reply, nodding down the hallway. “Good place to start.”

He’s right – there’s a little door you hadn’t noticed by the serving line, propped open for you. You can already smell the bread baking, hear the pleasant bustle of a fully staffed kitchen. Not too different from home.

....

You turn to grab another potato, your eyes catching on the one Aaric is holding -- it's mangled, cut in odd places, yet somehow still holding onto half of its skin despite him having hacked at it for a good two minutes.

So there is one thing Aaric Graycastle doesn't excel at, after all -- one thing you could help him with. But you’ve never been the type to offer unsolicited advice.

Aaric is nice, though, and he’d given you so much advice on fighting, so he probably won’t be offended if you return the favor. It's a fair trade, or close to it. Still, you choose your words carefully. “Have you ever peeled a potato before?”

“Once,” he answers, a slight blush on his cheeks. 

You cross over to his side of the table, grabbing one yourself along with a short knife. “You’re digging in too hard, and taking the meat along with it. You need to hold it more flat, and scrape, to take off just the skin. Like that,” you say with a smile, finishing yours and adding it to the bowl.

“How are you so good at this?”

“Years of practice,” you answer. “My best friend is — was —  a kitchen maid. I used to sneak downstairs to help her sometimes.”

“For once you’re done with those,” the cook announces, dropping a crate onto the end of the table with a thud. “Cored and quartered.”

“Whoa.”

“That is a lot of strawberries,” he agrees.

“It must have cost a fortune.”

His head tilts. There had always been strawberries, and a variety of other fruit laid out for every breakfast, more than they’d ever eat, but he’d never considered the cost, or what became of the leftovers. 

Thankfully you continue the conversation for him, a fondness in your eyes. “We bought a whole pound of them for my birthday once. We were going to try to make them last, but they were gone by dinnertime.”

He just offers you a smile and a soft laugh, returning his attention to the vegetables.

———

“I am a god among men,” Ridoc announces, grinning from ear to ear from where he kneels over Sawyer, the executive officer pinned underneath him in what looks like a very uncomfortable position.

“Yeah, and I’m the next queen of Navarre,” you quip over your shoulder. “Saying it doesn’t make it true.”

Aaric’s heart nearly stops. He can’t help but imagine you dressed in the fine silks of the royal court, bejeweled and shining, crowned in gold, seated beside him and Halden at his father’s dinner table — a beautiful but miserable existence.

This is better. This feels right, seeing you in the sleek black of the rider’s quadrant instead of yards of stiff brocade, being able to hear you laugh and joke like this rather than sitting quietly for the rest of your days like an ornamental vase.

Your boot connecting with his stomach and his back hitting the floor snap him out of his daydream, and knock the breath from his lungs.

Your eyes widen as you realize what you’ve done. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he wheezes, cheeks reddening as he takes your outstretched hands and lets you haul him to his feet — it takes a considerable amount of strength. “That was good.”

You can’t help but smile a little about your small victory, the only time you’ve bested anyone in combat, though you know he was definitely going easy on you. “Maybe one of these days, I’ll really win,” you laugh. 

He sounds considerably less winded as he speaks again. “We’ll get you there.”

You blink at the words he chose – not you’ll get there, but we. He’s invested in your success. That’s the squad mentality, you suppose. It’s odd, but not unpleasant. 

———

“I didn’t even know I had muscles in some of these places,” you groan, folding your arms on the table and resting your head on them. 

Visia pats your shoulder gently. “That’s good – it means they’re growing.”

Your response is muffled, but universally understood by the rest of the group, who are all similarly exhausted after a full week of Rhiannon’s extra training sessions. 

All except Aaric. “Eat,” he encourages. “It’ll help.”

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Chrissy and Steve walked through the door of Steve’s house just as Eddie pulled into the driveway. They quickly set their bags down in the living room just as Eddie came barreling in. Luckily, their arms were free, so they caught Eddie before he could knock them over. Chrissy and Steve laughed as they welcomed his eager kiss.

"Ugh! As much as I love Corroded Coffin, I would have rathered gone shopping with you two," Eddie groaned. "They're still fighting over what to call the new song we wrote."

"Just name it after us and call it a day next time, baby," Chrissy said.

"That's exactly what I'm going to do," Eddie sighed, and then he pouted. "I had hoped that I would have gotten out early enough to watch you try on the clothes you love."

"Well, we bought a lot," Steve grinned. "So, it's not like we can't put on a little fashion show right here. I mostly just some more polos, though, so don't get too excited."

Eddie pressed his palms together and brought them to his face. He let out a deep breath and looked at Steve.

"How many times do I have to tell you, sweetheart? I love those sweet little sexy numbers of yours," Eddie said. "Along with Chrissy's overall jumper thingies, her puffy pirate pants, and her twirly skirts. You know why? Because it's how you feel when you wear them. . .sexiest thing I've ever seen, Jesus H Christ."

Chrissy cupped his face, kissed him deeply, and moved to let Steve do the same.

"We love you," Steve said softly.

"I love you, too. Let's get this party started, big boy," Eddie said and patted his ass affectionately.

Steve and Chrissy grabbed the bags before rushing up the stairs. Eddie quickly turned the couch around so that it was facing the stairs and turned on the radio before throwing himself onto the couch. Raise a Little Hell by Trooper came on, and Eddie couldn't help but use his leg as a drum. When they did come down, they found him banging his head and beating on the meat of his thighs. After giggling a lot, they had to yell to get his attention. He jumped and sat up straight. Chrissy was standing in front of him, a loving vision dressed in green. It was a beautiful summer dress with a thousand yellow daisies on them. Chrissy seemed to really love it. Her face was beaming as she touched the material.

"You look beautiful," Eddie gasped as Chrissy twirled around in front of him.

"I love the way it feels against my skin," Chrissy sighed and then smirked. "I bet it would feel even better against yours."

Chrissy stepped in between his legs and let him touch the material of her dress. It didn't look like it would be so smooth, but underneath Eddie's fingertips, it told a different story. Chrissy's cheeks flushed as she let Eddie's hands wander down from her waist to her thighs. She let out a giggle before spinning out of his grip. Eddie groaned. She was such a menace. He couldn't help but smile, though. Eddie's eyes wandered over to Steve, who was watching them with a glint in his eyes while he smoothed down his yellow polo.

"Shit, baby, you found yourself a yellow polo?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, isn't this great! I didn't think that they'd had it in my size, but they did!" Steve exclaimed.

Eddie smiled. He knew how much that Steve loved the color. It was his favorite, after all. The white stripes spread right over Steve's chest, right over his pecs. Eddie appreciated how tight it was and how Steve kept running his hands over it to smooth down every wrinkle. Steve looked fucking beautiful right now, beaming like the fucking sunshine that he was. He waved Steve over, making grabbing motions with his hands. When Steve got close to him, Eddie yanked him in by his hips.

"You look beautiful," Eddie breathed as he ran his hand over the material of his shirt.

He placed his face right into his chest, breathing in his scent. Steve chuckled and ran his hand through his hair before kissing the top of his head. Eddie pulled back and let him go.

"I told you he would like it," Steve said to Chrissy as they meandered up the stairs.

"And I told you that he would like it as long as we did," she said and paused. "We do look sexy."

"Hell yeah, we do," Steve said.

Eddie smiled softly. They kept telling him how confident he made them every single day, but honestly, that was all the hard work that they did. He loved them so much, sometimes it didn't seem possible that he could love them more but every new day that came along liked to prove him wrong. Chrissy came down first in a blue skirt that seemed to float around her milky thighs, and she wore a white turtle neck long sleeved sweater. She looked like a gorgeous cloud. She really seemed to like this one. He watched as she giggled and danced around the living room. She spun and twirled, letting her skirt dance around with her. His heart was going to burst out of his chest.

"Eddie!" Chrissy gasped. "This skirt has pockets!"

Yep. There it goes, his heart bursting out of his chest. She was so gleeful and he knew that it would become her favorite outfit.

"I could bite you, you're so fucking cute," Eddie said and Chrissy giggled, knowing she would eagerly let him.

It was astounding how cute they could get, and it made him a little feral. Steve moved over to Chrissy, smiling as he twirled her around. Eddie's eyes widened at the sight of him. Steve was wearing a pair of rather tight black jeans and a red polo shirt.

"You look beautiful, Chrissy," Steve said.

"You look rather dashing yourself, Steve," Chrissy said.

They stood in front of the living room mirror, smiling at each other. Eddie's eyes wanted to roll back into his head when Steve started touching himself. Well, okay, not like that. Steve turned around, looking over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I definitely like the way these pants look and feel. Look at my ass!" Steve exclaimed, his hands cupping his own cheeks.

"I'm fucking looking," Eddie gasped and Chrissy giggled.

"And I'm touching," she said and squeezed Steve’s ass. "I like the red and the black."

"So, which credit card did you guys steal this time?" Eddie asked, trying to focus.

"My mother's," Chrissy said.

"Next time, it's my father's," Steve said. "And we'll take Eddie shopping so he can show off for us, too."

"Hm, he definitely deserves a dent in his wallet after that homophobic comment he made towards you," Chrissy sighed. "Asshole."

"He'll get what's coming to him when he gets the credit card bill. He'll just think it's my mom again," Steve said.

"And we can't forget to donate to charity, too," Chrissy beamed.

"How are you guys getting away with this?" Eddie asked in disbelief.

"Oh, our parents couldn't possibly let it get out their precious children like the same sex," Chrissy said. "They'd pay more for it."

"Never mind that we also like the opposite sex," Steve rolled his eyes.

"Okay, you did not tell me that you blackmailed your own parents!" Eddie laughed. "Did I mention that I love you?"

"Hmm, wouldn't hurt you to say it again," Steve said softly.

"I love you," Eddie said. "Both of you."

Steve leaned over and kissed him, pressing him to the back of the couch. Eddie sighed against his lips, his fingers curling into his hair. He broke the kiss, tucking a hair behind Eddie's hair.

"We've got a few more outfits to try on, and then we've got our suits," Chrissy said.

"Suits?" Steve and Eddie asked.

"Yeah, you know. . .our suits," Chrissy emphasized, looking at Steve.

"Oh. . .oh! Yeah, our suits," Steve said, and then he grinned like the Cheshire cat.

"What suits?" Eddie asked.

Chrissy sauntered over to him and grasped his chin in her hand.

"You should be thinking about what you want, baby, because when the time comes, we're going to spoil the hell out of you," Chrissy cooed and kissed his lips.

They tried on a few more outfits before rushing upstairs and giggling. Meanwhile, Eddie was left downstairs trying to figure out what kind of suits they bought. He watched them, though, when Steve came down in a new vest and Chrissy came down in a new, pink and yellow over all jumper thingies. He was pretty sure the suits were the next to try on when they gave him a look and then giggled before disappearing up the stairs. Eddie was now eager to see them, forgetting about the music in the background. He didn't even know what was playing now. He was watching the stairs with rapt attention when they came down wearing -

"You're NAKED!" Eddie shrieked.

"Do you like our birthday suits, Eddie?" Chrissy grinned.

Despite the fact that he's seen them naked before, it still left him feeling gobsmacked and filled with an excited nervousness that made it seem like the first time all over again. His heart was definitely beating like it was. Eddie stood up quickly and tripped over his own feel. Steve and Chrissy laughed before going over to help Eddie up.

"Okay, let's get into my suit, and you guys can try me on," Eddie cackled.

"You're going to be a perfect fit like always," Chrissy said and paused. "God, I hope this time it works, and I get you both pregnant."

"You're a freak, Cunningham," Eddie cackled again as they led him upstairs.

"Thank you, baby, we wouldn't want to be any other way," Chrissy said.

She really meant that. Steve and Chrissy seemed to take delight in being reminded that they're not like everyone else. After spending time being put into someone else's box, Eddie couldn't blame them. They seemed to relish in being called a freak by him, especially by him. To them, it means they're all exactly where they want to be. Nothing made Eddie happier than knowing that the King and Queen of Hawkins High could drop the mask and be utterly themselves with him. They were his king and queen now, and he was happily their court jester.

[elliespuns]

We've already seen the winter dance scene in the show, I really liked it even more than I expected, but Ellie's expression when Joel leaves worries me, you don't see a bit of regret for lashing out like that, on the contrary I only see relief when he's not there, we know it's still early in the season but I don't know, I have a bad feeling about how they'll leave things when whatever has to happen happens... I don't know what you think about that 😔

I completely understand your fear. Honestly, I'm unsure of what to anticipate from the rest of the show. The changed timeline is a bit confusing to me as a game enthusiast and I can already see they've changed so many things not to fit the game's timeline at all.

For example, the scene where Ellie and Tommy are sniping together was originally supposed to take place as a flashback to the summer when Ellie was 17. However, in the final version we ended up having it as a present moment in the winter, with Ellie now 19. Also, I found it confusing as to why Tommy was acting so uptight and standoffish with Ellie during this scene. Normally he treats her as an equal and is more relaxed and easygoing in his interactions with her.

The dance scene and porch scene were both supposed to be among the final scenes depicting Ellie and Joel's bond, but didn't happen this way. Plus, as you say, Ellie looked like she had no remorse or desire to even talk to him after what happened. Does this mean she will never make an attempt to reach out to him?

Ellie and Cat's scenes felt off too. I always got the impression that Cat broke things off with Ellie because she recognized Ellie already had feelings for Dina. But in the show, it seems like Cat thinks Ellie is being reckless and immature. It sets up potential drama between them which doesn't fit the heartwarming dynamic those two originally had.

Also, while I adore Joel immensely, he seems oblivious to why Ellie is angry with him (as Pedro himself mentioned that Joel gradually forgets the main reason behind Ellie's resentment towards him). However, pixel Joel is acutely aware of it and feels immense shame, despite lacking any regret over his actions.

Given how much has changed, it's hard to predict where the story will go from here after only one episode. To be honest, I'm not expecting the plot to follow the game very closely. They may even handle "THE SCENE" in a completely different manner and position it at an alternate point in the narrative.

The real question is: Will "THE SCENE" occur without the heartfelt conversation between Ellie and Joel on the porch, or will it happen at some later point when they share a different emotional moment together?

I'm a bit scared they're aiming for "THE SCENE" to happen and leaving Ellie and Joel on bad terms as it does, so they would inflame Ellie's anger and desire for revenge. You know, leaving her with the feeling that she didn't get closure with him.

This answer applies to all asks about "what did you think about the 1st episode" :) so I don't need to answer them all.

[shallowseeker]

Maybe how Dean’s friendship with Cas works because he doesn’t have to preform masculinity for Cas the way he does with the other men he interacts with (besides Sam)?

I've thought about this a lot, but ultimately, I don't think the genders are my specialty, so I'll plead the fifth and offer anyone else in dashfam to take a crack at this one!

///

That said, I think Dean's friendship with Cas works on a lot of levels. Mostly... what I favor is just... Idk. I guess... maybe because at its core, it’s built on this deep, quiet understanding between 2 ppl who consistently put themselves last, yet never stop trying to do the right thing. And they SEE that in each other. They continue to SEE each other, you know?

Dean tries so hard not to abandon his family, even when he fails them or even WRONGS them (experimental treatment Gadreel, trying to help detox Sam in a panic room etc), and Cas never gives up on trying to fix what’s broken, in heaven or on earth (killing a bunch of angels, angels falling, the angelic civil war, getting Kelly indirectly *gotten* by Lucifer and feeling like he owes it to keep his promise to her, etc).

There’s just like this... kind of emotional fluency(?), I think, that lets them crack each other open with just a glance. Performance almost never factors when it comes down to the emotional heart of how they interact, and it's SO—

///

It's not so much about a lack of performance for me (masculinity or otherwise) but more like... this trust in the other's foundational core and shared values. They are very different in a lot of ways but tend to CARE about the same things.

They're also both very stubborn and reckless, and it's hilarious to me how they get mad at each other for those things they both have in spades lol.

It's a VERY stubborn, hard-earned, stress-tested trust between two people who are rarely allowed silliness or softness but still offer it to each other. They wanna just... be.

Looky there, I did have a kind-of answer.

They are the VERY EMBODIMENT of

"Well, usually things get worked out. When you really want them to." (1x13)

[thelostgirl21]

Okay so... in the Netflix series, Jaskier is supposed to have been born in 1222, which would make him roughly 46 by the end of the books series (i.e. 1268), right?

And, according to the most recent book ("Crossroad of the Crows") Geralt would have been born in 1211 (making him roughly 57 by the end of the series)...

...

...

...

...am I the only one having a complete kick out of trying to integrate Geralt's canon birth year into the Netflix series, and thinking it would be somewhat hilariously brilliant to have them just roll with that new added bit of information?!

Especially if Jaskier knows?!

Because Geralt keeps talking as if he's this old, wise guy that's already been around for centuries (or a century, at the very least)!

He's someone that has grown so jaded with life and disillusioned with the world because humans have such short lives and short memories, that they never learn from their mistakes (amongsts others)...

He keeps speaking as if he's seen Empires rise and fall! Entire Civilizations be wiped out! He's an ancient being that no mere mortal could ever dream of fully understanding!

When, in truth, he's basically a baby white wolf! A young tiny Witcher!

If Jaskier met Geralt when he was 18, then Geralt would have been barely 29 at that time!!!

I can just imagine Geralt, at some point on the road, going:

"In my experience, after everything I've seen and been through in my unnaturally long existence..."

Meanwhile, Jaskier's like: "Oh, for fuck's sake! Vesemir told me you've just turned 35! I bet the raven we've just crossed has seen more stuff than you!"

Basically, during the events of "Sirens of the Deep", you have a Jaskier that's "pushing 40, looks 30, thinks he's 20, and acts like he's 10."

And you have a Geralt that's "pushing 50, looks 40, thinks he's 100, and acts like he's 200!"

Going by their current age (end of Season 3), they're like a modern day Gen X / Xennial (queerplatonic) couple, basically!

You've got the Xennial Millenial (Jaskier), that shows a blend of hopeful optimism combined with a healthy dose of cynic realism, that is constantly trying to convince his Gen X partner to get involved and make a difference in people's lives, that there's still love and beauty to be found in the world, and that even if you don't succeed in changing things, you should at the very least give it your best try!

And you've got your archetypical Gen Xer that just wants to do their own thing, stay neutral in all those conflicts to avoid needing to get involved (or worse, be sucked into other people's dramas... Yuck!); because they grew up in a world where toys and playgrounds were pretty much designed to try to kill you, your parents weren't around to nurture and guide you; and you spent most of your formative years hanging out with a bunch of other neglected kids your age alone at home, doing dumb things with them, totally unsupervised, while the "adult world" was filled with issues that you were told did not concern you!

I mean - and I know this wasn't done on purpose at all, but still - tell me Geralt isn't the perfect on-screen embodiment of a "Gen Xer" transposed into a fantasy universe!

To quote an actual Gen Xers:

"We’ve led our life squeezed between the larger Baby Boomer and Millennial cohorts, two generations who also have quite high opinions of themselves. That has actually suited our sullen personalities, we were never ones to like that much attention. We tend to be a little more reserved, more reticent. If you can give an entire generation personality traits, then describing Generation X as slightly moody introverts, is probably as close as you can get. [...] We are what is sometimes called a Nomad Generation, one who has to pick up the pieces from conflicts between prior generations. In our case, we had to re-build after the boomers rebelled during the sixties and seventies. It makes us practical, more concerned with results than high falutin ideas. It also makes us cynical. In some respects, we were the counter-revolution, a backlash against the optimism and idealism of the boomers. That cynical attitude also comes across at times in our attitude to the millennials. Don’t they realize that the world isn’t that simple? [...] One of the best ever quotes I’ve seen about Generation X is this by Theis Duelund in an article in Vice Magazine; “Jaded Gen X slackers nihilistically accept the machine of which they are a part and can dissect its fundamental facile and evil nature with all the clarity and urgency of a nineteenth-century Romantic poet”."

So, Jaskier and Geralt really have that whole modern day 42 y.o. vs 53 y.o. besties vibe down by Season 3, I swear!

Meanwhile I've just checked, and apparently Yennefer was born in 1192 in the show, making her 19 years older than Geralt (this version of Yennefer would thus be 76 y.o. by the end of the series, assuming they end it on the same year as the books)...

Going by the prior analogy, and assuming Jaskier is roughly around 42 in Season 3, that would make her 72...

... and a Boomer!

I'm laughing so hard at the animosity between them being partly caused by a generational divide, with Jaskier's Xennial arse essentially continuously going with their own universe's equivalent of "Okay, Boomer!" on Yennefer!

Meanwhile, poor Geralt is so done with all the generational warfare, and just wants to take a nap!

And Ciri's birth year is 1250... So she'd be... 14 (Gen Z)?!

Wait. So does that mean Season 3 is happening closer to 1268 than I thought? Or in 1268? Because I thought Ciri was like 18 by Season 3 (wasn't she 14 when Geralt finally found her?)!

If she's 15 in Season 3, then Jaskier would be 43, Geralt 54, and Yennefer 73; and the year would be 1265.

If Ciri is 16, then Jaskier would be 44, Geralt 55, and Yennefer 74; and the year would be 1266.

If Ciri is 17, then Jaskier would be 45, Geralt 56, and Yennefer 75; and the year would be 1267.

If Ciri is 18, then Jaskier would be 46, Geralt 57, and Yennefer 76; and the year would be 1268.

Makes me wonder how old Radovid is on the show...

Because Ciri really can't be anywhere younger than 14.

Meaning that Jaskier can't be anywhere younger than 42, either.

And, while the casting documents apparently put Radovid as being 19 at some point; he looks at the very least 30+ on the show.

A case could be made for 25, perhaps, if it involves a lot of suspension of disbelief, given that Hugh Skinner is very baby faced.

But still, the actor is currently 40 (and, in my humble opinion, does look like most 40 year old baby faced people I know), and Joey Batey is 36 and playing a character that is supposed to be AT LEAST 42 in Season 3 (46 at the very oldest).

And if you put two equally baby faced actors in roughly the same age range together on screen, what you get is two men firmly looking like they are the same age, regardless of whatever age you wish to give them.

In other words, if you'd wanted Hugh Skinner to be able to pull off playing a 19 year old prince, making him the love interest of Joey Batey's character, while asking Joey to portray a guy that's meant to be anywhere between 42 and 46, might not have been the smartest idea.

Not to mention that, despite Jaskier thinking he's 20 and acting like he's 10, Jaskier being 42 and getting romantically/sexually involved with someone that's +/- 20 y.o. would create a solid power imbalance in the relationship that I'm not sure would bring anything more to it.

Radovid already grew up pretty sheltered, in a highly dangerous environment that did a pretty good job at stunting his individuation process. As such, there's already this sort of innocence to the way he's falling in love with Jaskier and allowing himself to take influence from him on the show, that I really see no need to double down on by making Radovid almost a teenager and creating a 20+ years age gap between the two of them.

Plus, IMHO, the idea that Jaskier would have responded the way he did in the cabin, knowing that this was but a scared 20 year old kid stuck in a vipers' nest (I tend to headcanon that Radovid is somewhere between 35 and 40 when he meets Jaskier), feels uncharacteristically harsh given Jaskier's usual level of empathy and understanding.

Yes, Radovid represents tremendous political power, but a 42 year old, emotionally and psychologically, can cause a lot more damage to a 20 year old than the other way around.

With a 20 year old Radovid, Jaskier would thus be needing to navigate a fine line between becoming a romantic/sexual partner, and a bit of an educator/teacher figure to Radovid. And I'm not sure that it's a challenge that's really needed on top of all of the other things they already need to mutually learn to navigate together.

Although the idea that Geralt would have chosen a girlfriend that's roughly 20 years older than himself, and Jaskier gone right for someone that's 2 times 10 years 20 years younger than himself, would be rather funny!

But yeah, to go back to Geralt himself, I kinda love the idea of him being so young, yet constantly acting so old.

Perhaps, just like people tend to believe that Witchers are devoid of human emotions, they always tend to assume that any Witcher they meet are really old and powerful beings, and Geralt has never bothered to correct any of them on those assumptions.

Especially with his white hair, it was all too easy for him to lean into that stereotype, and use people's assumptions about him to his advantage, for once!

Humans interacting with him always assume that he's naturally much older and especially wiser than they are themselves, and that his opinions carry the weight of over a century of life experience!

Kings and Queens invite him to sit at their own tables, seek his counsel, etc.

But really, he's just a 39 year old introvert that got dragged to a party he didn't want to go to by a 28 year old extravert that needed his protection because he keeps fucking around with royalty (quite literally!)!

And now, the music is too loud, the people suck, he just wants to go back home, drink wine, and hang out with his horse; but he still needs to make sure his dumbass friend doesn't get himself killed...

Next thing you know, the Queen suddenly wants to pretend they're palls, he's getting involved in a fight, the crown princess wants to marry a porcupine and she suddenly reveals that she carries some kind of great primal power or something... Turns out the Queen has a real passion for stabbing things, and oh! Destiny was giving away a child of surprise at the venue, and one guess whose name they picked?!

Fuck his life! He can barely keep one bard alive, who'd be dumb enough to entrust him with a child?!

It's even funnier if, genuinely, no one (except the other Witchers, Geralt's closest family and friends, and probably Borch) knows that Geralt was only born in 1211.

By now, he's gotten so used to playing the part, that even Geralt himself tends to forget he's not actually that old.

When he and Jaskier are alone together, or just hanging out with the rest of their family, there are times where Jaskier just lets it slide. And others where he'll start teasing him about it, because "I'll remind you that you're barely a decade older than me, you silly goose!"

On a more sobering front, what if Geralt is so anxious at the mere thought of living for 100+ years, without the passing years visibly and physically aging him, while some of the people he loves most (like Jaskier) continue to grow old and eventually die, that he's always felt that burden very sharply and as if he'd actually experienced it.

And there's a kind of poetic tragedy to

*Spoilers for Lady of the Lake under the cut*

the idea that Geralt - a.k.a. the one constantly struggling with people's shorter lifespans and so scared of being left behind by those he loves - winds up dying (and/or being moved to some eternal realm) at age 57.

While Jaskier - a.k.a. the one that's always loved people wholeheartedly and with fearless devotion - winds up being the one that gets left behind to mourn the loss of his family.

Geralt and Yennefer likely both expected that they would eventually have to go through the shared grief of having to watch Jaskier grow old and die...

...except neither of them would ever get to watch him grow any older than 46.

Meanwhile, Jaskier might still have another 40, or perhaps even 50 years to go on and adapt to the reality of living the rest of his human life without the two of them.

So, whatever you do, please do not think too hard about Radovid finding Jaskier alone in his bedroom drinking and crying in the middle of the afternoon on his 77th birthday, because the reality of having somehow managed to outlive his "mad fucking witch" just hit him full force!

His 58th birthday was hard enough, but now he's officially gotten to live a longer life than both of them on this Continent, and it's so fucking unfair! He's just a bard, godsdamnit!

Also, please don't spend too much time thinking about how, in their first few years together, Jaskier might potentially find himself struggling with a bit of separation anxiety whenever he lets Radovid out of his sight for too long, and possibly whenever there's a small crowd of people starting to surround the king, during various royal events and gatherings, even despite the closeby presence of royal guards.

Don't think about how that anxiety might occasionally turn into a full blown panic attack, should that crowd get a bit too dense for comfort; or how Jaskier might start imagining people carrying pitchforks in the crowd despite his best attempt to avoid thinking about that.

Jaskier's just trying to be brave about it and give poor Radovid some room to breathe at the beginning of the evening... Only to find himself suddenly rushing back to Radovid's side - pushing through the crowd and possibly accidentally elbowing one or two guests in the face - while deciding that he's going to spend the whole event with one arm firmly hooked around Radovid's waist!

Also, he'll have everyone know that he's totally entitled to sing his entire set of songs sitting right in Radovid's lap that night, thank you very much! He's the Redanian royal bard, and as such he'll bloody well sing from whichever spot at court most pleases him!

Radovid is probably being awfully patient, understanding and considerate about it, too. Willing to help Jaskier manage his anxiety and hide it from the world by spontaneously being the one to pull him into his lap when he notices that his bard might be struggling more than usual and need a bit of extra reassurance that night; or signalling to two of his guards to help him make his way through a small crowd to be the one to go "casually join" Jaskier first, when Radovid notices how Jaskier is starting to look like he's scanning the guests surrounding him for threats, and likely to come rushing towards him, hyperventilating and trying to spout some half-baked excuse to explain the sudden need to cling to him as if both their lives depended on it!

But yeah, after having lost both Geralt and Yennefer at the same time in shuch awful circumstances, and having watched Ciri leave for another realm, as much as Jaskier considers himself a bit of a "free spirit" in general, I've a feeling that he might have a certain amount of trauma to work through first before he'll be able to trust that no one's going to be trying to take Radovid from him, too!

So, this post started really light, and then took one hell of a turn after that cut, didn't it?

But yeah, I kinda like the idea of Geralt turning out to be that young in the Netflix universe as well, rather than just in the books.

And, of course, we'll always have fanfiction and fandom in general where we can explore the idea of show Geralt and Jaskier being a mere 11 years apart in age, without the tragedy of Geralt and Yennefer dying (and/or moving to some eternal realm) in 1268 as well!

I'm now sort of tempted to do a rewatch of all of the scenes involving Geralt, Jaskier, and/or Yennefer together on the show while keeping in mind their actual age differences, Jaskier 20 = Geralt 31 = Yennefer 50, Jaskier 30 = Geralt 41 = Yennefer 60, Jaskier 40 = Geralt 51 = Yennefer 70. to see how it affects my perception of some of their interactions.

But really, in terms of the "generational divide" between them, they're basically the equivalent of a Gen Xer, a Xennial Millenial, and a Boomer all starting a family and raising a Zoomer together! It's just beautiful!

[lemotmo]

I still hate it. I get it from a business standpoint and this makes perfect sense. But he's dad and I'm devastated.

Q. He just signed the death certificate of his own show.

A. I'm going to preface this entire reply by saying I don't think he's really dead but I'm going to answer this way too dramatic ask from a pragmatic standpoint. So for the sake of this reply he is dead. AGAIN I DO NOT REALLY THINK HE'S DEAD BUT SOME OF THESE TAKES ARE INSANELY OVER DRAMATIC SO IM GOING TO REPLY TO THIS AS IF HE IS TRULY DEAD.

Instant reaction being raw and angry is understandable and relatable but the argument that no television show has ever done anything like this and survived is a frankly absurd argument. This is not new for television. It's definitely not new for ABC. In fact if he is truly dead I believe it was an ABC decision and not a Tim decision. There is a legitimate argument to me made for the long term benefit of killing a character like this off. Lots of shows that have run as long as 911 has need a reset at some point. This is an insanely expensive show to make. It will be going into its 3rd season on a new network which means there were probably several cast members who were due for new contracts and given the show's current status on the network those new contracts most likely came with pay increases. If you're a suit in the financial position at ABC it makes sense that something would need to give. Angela and Peter are the two most expensive cast members. And if the choice was between Peter Krause and Angela Bassett you're keeping the movie star every time. That's business. We can all hate it but it is.

As for the people yelling at me that I willed his death into existence by saying he was overused, I cannot help you. There is a drastic difference in saying a character desperately needs a rest and killing the character off. If you don't understand that, I don't know what to tell you. Tommy did not serve any kind of major role in this event. Stop that now. He is a helicopter pilot. They brought him in to fly a helicopter as a distraction, which is what his character was for his entire run of this plot, hello! and to allow Buck to verbally state the EX part out loud. I do think we will get a scene between him and Eddie next week, which I still think was the real reason he was brought back in the first place. Being pissed off at him getting a reaction to the death over Eddie is legitimate, understandable rage. That was inexcusable on every level. And I'm glad even the media is pointing that out. For one the man cannot act. He is incapable of emoting and looked constipated more than anything else. It was bad all the way around. The other problem was it was legitimately not a great episode in general. The plot was absurd with even the slightest bit of critical thinking applied. But moving characters and plotlines along with the use of grief is a media staple. That is common practice so people acting like the show basically has to start over from scratch because Bobby died is ridiculous. I cried hard last night. The dialogue was moving and did its job but the plot overall was absurd and does not feel real in any way. In conclusion I don't think it's real BUT if it is there are legitimate arguments to me made for doing it. We don't have to like it but that doesn't make them less true. I do think hell be alive and back by the season finale though. ���🩷

Thank you Nonny!

All right, this is the last ask I'm answering tonight. I'm tired and I need a break. 🥱

I thought this one was fitting to end on for today. 😋

I still hate how they went about this and I'm also still very much in camp 'HE ISN'T DEAD', but yeah... if he is we will have to deal with it in some way.🤷‍♀️ It'll hurt, but I'll get passed it because I still love this show too much to give up on it. ❤️

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[abbyanderstrap]

abby warming up to the idea of becoming a parent with you

. ݁₊ ⊹ ౨ৎ . ݁₊ ⊹

soft!abby / wholesome!abby / mommy!abby | modern au

this will be pt1 of a short series so bear with me! ᡣ𐭩

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The apartment is dim, the only light coming from my desk lamp left on low. We were lying on my twin bed, facing each other under a shared blanket that barely fits two. Abby's arm is tucked under my pillow, close enough that I can feel the heat of her skin across the space between us, though neither has reached out yet.

It's quiet-one of those heavy, still silences that doesn't feel awkward. Just full. I’ve been watching Abby's eyes shift softly between me and the ceiling. She's been thinking too much. She always does, when it's this late.

I shift slightly, resting my cheek on her hand, my voice barely more than a breath. "Did you ever want kids?"

Abby blinks. Her brow tightens just slightly— enough for me to worry I’ve overstepped.

But Abby doesn't deflect. She just lets the quiet stretch out longer, like she's really thinking about it.

"I don't know," Abby finally says, voice low and flat in the way it gets when she's feeling something but doesn't want to admit it yet. "I never really let myself think about it." Her eyes shift to meet mine. "It never felt like something I could picture."

I nod, slow. "I don't think I did either," I say. "Still don't, most days. I just... wondered if that's something you ever saw for yourself. Or not."

Abby's mouth twitches at the corner-almost a smile, almost a wince. "I don't think I ever saw anything for myself," she admits, eyes softening. "Not until recently."

She doesn't say it. But I hear it in the pause. In the way Abby's gaze flickers to my lips, then back up to my eyes.

There's a beat of stillness, heavy with something unsaid. My heart thumps, and my hand shifts between us, resting near Abby's wrist. Not touching. Just close enough.

Abby turns toward me a little more. Her voice is softer now. "If I ever did want that... anything close to that... it'd have to be with someone like you."

I swallow around the lump in my throat and give a small nod. My fingers graze Abby's wrist, lingering just enough. "Okay," I whisper, barely audible. "That's good to know."

We don't say anything else. We don't have to.

Abby shifts an inch closer, enough for our foreheads to rest together, and closes her eyes. It's not a declaration. It's just a beginning.

── .✦·········────

The visit had gone well — better than either of us expected, really.

Our friends from college, a couple who had always felt a little older than the rest of the group, had just had their first baby a few months ago.

I squealed the second I saw the tiny thing wrapped in a patterned swaddle, and Abby, who normally looked like she could carry a fridge without breaking a sweat, held the infant with surprisingly practiced gentleness.

Abby had gone a little quiet during the visit, but not in a bad way. Just... watching. Observing. Taking it all in. I had watched her watching — the way she cradled the baby without hesitation, the way she grinned when the baby grabbed her finger in those impossibly small hands, the way she had instinctively swayed when standing, like she'd done it a hundred times before.

On the walk home, my hand slipped into Abby's. It was cold outside, but Abby's palms, as always, ran warm. "She really liked you," I said, nudging her shoulder. "You're a natural."

Abby gave a small shrug, cheeks a little pink from the cold - or maybe something else.

𓂃₊

Back at the apartment, we kicked off our shoes and flopped onto the couch, Miso curling between us in a warm little loaf. For a while, it was just quiet — the kind of silence we didn't need to fill — until I broke it, my voice tentative.

"Did it... feel weird to you?" I asked. "Being there?"

Abby shifted slightly. "Not weird. Just... different. Familiar in a way that kind of caught me off guard."

I nodded, running my fingers gently over Miso's back. "I always thought I wouldn't want that," I said. "I think part of me still feels scared of the idea. Of not being ready. Of messing something up. But when you were holding her, and you smiled like that..." My voice trailed off. "I don't know. It made me think about it. Like, really think about it."

Abby leaned her head back against the couch cushion, gaze fixed on the ceiling. "I used to imagine it, sometimes. Just in passing. What it'd be like, if l ever got to have a family. But it always felt distant — something l'd be good at, sure, but not something l'd actually want. I didn’t see it for myself." She turned to face me. "But… then you showed up. And now we have a cat who thinks she owns the world, and I wake up every day wanting to take care of you. So yeah... I think I could want that. With you. You make me want things I didn't think I'd ever want." She exhaled, with the smallest smile.

My chest fluttered - not just from the words, but the way she said them. Carefully. Earnestly.

"I don't need it to be right now. I don't even know how we'd do it. But I realized something. I don't want a kid — I want your kid. I want to build something that's part of you. I want to see you holding them, and think, 'That's my whole world in one room!" She swallowed. "It's terrifying. But it feels right. You feel right."

I didn't say anything for a long moment. My book slid closed in my lap. "You really mean that?" I asked softly. "You're not just saying it?" I blinked at her, my eyes a little shiny now.

Abby nodded, leaning forward, brushing her fingers over my knee. "I mean it."

A small, wobbly breath left my lungs, like something inside me had been waiting a long time to hear those words. I scooted closer, curling into Abby's side, one hand resting over her heart. "I didn't think I wanted it either," I whispered. "But with you... I think l've been wanting it for a while now. I just didn't want to want it, because it felt impossible. And because I didn't want to want it with anyone else but you."

I smiled, and after a moment, leaned in and kissed her softly. Miso meowed indignantly between us, and we both laughed, breaking the tension. Abby tugged me close again, wrapping me up in the warmth she always carried like it belonged to both of us.

"Not now. Not soon. But... someday." I whispered into her shoulder.

"Someday sounds perfect," Abby murmured, kissing the top of my head, her arm wrapped around me tightly. "We've got time. We'll figure it out."

"Yeah," I breathed, my face tucked against Abby's shoulder. "We always do."

We sat like that for awhile - just holding each other, letting the idea settle between us. No pressure. No timelines. Just the beginning of a shared future, quiet and full of possibilities. It wasn't a plan yet. It wasn't concrete. But for the first time, we let ourselves imagine it- together.

── .✦·········────

It started one night in the kitchen — not with a serious conversation, not with any grand declaration. Barefoot, sweatpants, standing at the counter flipping through a magazine.

Miso was perched on the windowsill, tail flicking, watching something only she could see. Abby stood at the stove, cooking dinner, sleeves rolled up and brow furrowed in concentration.

"You ever think about how we'd actually do it?" I asked casually, still reading. "If we ever had a kid, I mean."

Abby didn't look away from the pan. "Like logistically?"

"Yeah."

A pause. The sound of sizzling onions. Then Abby turned the burner down and finally looked over, a brow raised. "Is this hypothetical curiosity, or are you saying we should start looking into it?"

I shrugged, cheeks pink. "Maybe a little of both."

Abby set the spatula down and leaned back against the counter beside me. "Alright," she said slowly, wiping her hands on a towel. “Let’s say it’s not hypothetical.”

I looked up at her with wide eyes, so much gentleness held in the question I hadn't fully asked yet. "I want to know our options," I said. "If or when we get there."

Abby nodded. "Okay. So we research. See what feels right."

We spent the next week here and there reading articles and bookmarking sites, curled up on the couch in the evenings with one laptop balanced between us and Miso tucked between our knees. Some of it was confusing- charts and acronyms, costs and success rates- but some of it felt surprisingly grounding. Like planning a life, piece by piece.

But there were quieter, sweeter moments too. Abby's hand resting on my thigh as we read. Me gently brushing Abby’s hair behind her ear. The soft wonder in our eyes when we talked about what a child might be like.

We didn't make any decisions right away. It wasn't that kind of conversation. It was just the beginning of a path being cleared- slowly, thoughtfully. Something we could return to again and again, shaping it over time.

Later that night, as we were getting ready for bed, I stood by the sink, brushing my teeth. Abby came up behind me, arms sliding around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder.

"You'd be a really good mom," Abby said softly, meeting my eyes in the mirror.

My eyes flicked to her reflection, surprised at first — then softening into something deep, something fond. I turned slightly to rest my forehead against Abby's. "You too."

Abby smiled, that shy, earnest one I loved. "Guess we'll figure it out together."

"Yeah," I whispered. "We will."

── .✦·········────── .✦·········────

[the-hell-event-ate-my-gems]

A little opinion about Kalim and Jamil relationship ( mentions of their dream but nothing too big or specific) (+ I'll also make a parallel with Leona and Ruggie relationship)

Tbh I don't see an easy way to fix their friendship....

...Yes, they are both two children trapped in the adult game; and Jamil doesn't want to hate Kalim, he hates those who have something they don't deserve when he can't have anything for himself, Kalim represents this, but Kalim is kind to him, so Jamil hates himself for hating Kalim because Kalim will never make it easy, Kalim will never be like "them" and Kalim... Kalim was left in the dark, not knowing half of Jamil's problems or understanding Jamil's wounds.

It is possible to draw a small parallel between Jamil and Leona

Both are dissatisfied with the system of their own world, but Leona internalizes the hatred he feels in a spiral of self-destruction and Jamil externalizes this by becoming cynical and bitter towards others who he believes do not deserve the position they have.

And thinking about it, the difference between Leona and Jamil is that Leona accepted help. He accepted Ruggie by his side, they worked together, do evil things together, laugh together.

In Leona's nightmare, the one who is against him is Ruggie, because Leona, in his depression, doesn't see himself as worthy of that trust, but in Ruggie's dream, Leona is a glorious king, someone who gave food and school to everyone equally, where everyone celebrates and sees Leona as good as he sees the leon. However Jamil and Kalim... Jamil didn't accept help, he rejected it... (I'll not do a big spoiler of their dream) but in Kalim's dream, he and Jamil are happy because Kalim always thought that Jamil was always happy in his position, so that desire to do parties and make everyone happy because he believed that Jamil liked it too, and the truth is that Jamil felt exploited... Without a voice... where no one would ever help him in anything and just give him more work....

Kalim wanted the past back because he thinks Jamil was happy in the past but Jamil... Jamil is so hurt and bitten by the system....

Leona and Ruggie are aware that they are both trapped in the system, but they see themselves as equals

Leona apologized to Ruggie and the other accepted it. Leona doesn't see himself as worthy of that trust, but Ruggie still trusts him because the basis of their relationship is this crazy sincerity that they both have with each other. (You can see it as platonic, family or romantic but their bond is - as Rook describes - strong as diamond)

Jamil and Kalim don't have that.

Jamil was given to Kalim as a servant and no matter how kind and fun Kalim is, he will never understand how Jamil is trapped in this system, because no matter how good Kalim is, Jamil will never be anything more or less than a servant, a voiceless slave.

Now in Kalim's view... oh my sweet summer child, Kalim has traumas, he was kidnapped several times and these kidnappings were probably of people Kalim trusted, uncles or family friends or even brothers without magic. So Jamil's betrayal shows that he is alone, that he can't even trust Jamil, the one he thought would be his best friend and trusted servant. And this makes him a little angry and cold towards Jamil and rightly so, because Jamil's betrayal hurt him deeply.

And it is because of these dynamics that it is easier to see Leona and Ruggie together in a happy future than Jamil and Kalim side by side in a future

Because Kalim's kindness blinds him to Jamil's wounds....

[paulinet]

Love jinx

Part 1, part 2, part 3.

Warning: SFW, NSFW!, comfort, profanity, unknown gender, lewd talk, Medicine Pocket ooc, headcanons, blurred boundaries of a genderless reader, implies your job at Laplace, Medicine Pocket - they/them.

Word count: 3000≈

From the author: I don't know how long my desire to write anything will last... I really love it, but I change my tastes and hobbies too quickly. So if I disappear for a long period of time, it's okay. I come back, usually. With Medicine Pocket, it's impossible not to get back to writing, you know?

I'll probably write another piece of headcanon on this topic and then try to develop the drabbles, it's been a while since I've done one. Doramas occupy my free time, it's fun to get inspiration from there.

English - not my first language.

Enjoy reading!

SFW

Please accept my sincere congratulations if you have become a Medicine Pocket partner. It means you can hold their attention for so long that they fall in love with you.

Please prepare yourself for the fact that they've been hiding a COLOSSAL amount of energy since they first realized their crush and they plan to let it all out.

Finally they can cuddle with you indefinitely!!! They've finally gotten to the point where they can drag you on walks for hours without hesitation! At last they can touch you not as a friend, but as a lover?? God, hold that newborn puppy.

They will really act like a puppy for the first while. Perhaps a little superficially, doing completely trivial actions, but understand, this stage of the experiment they've been stuck on has lingered and they're just thrilled when they have the right to continue!

They still don't understand even themselves. What are they doing? Why are they doing it? Medicine Pocket just follow their heart. If they want to hug you, they hug you, if they want to kiss you, they kiss you. Now they can do it.

And no, they don't look stupid, at least not in your eyes. Sometimes they blush, sometimes they overreact like a volcano or geyser, but only for the first few months. Afterward, they'll just react... Internally. Because they'll have already been through it, and it will be easier.

They look at a lot of things through a "dog is man's best friend" prism. But the situation here is that they are not your friend, they are your partner. Your lover. Does that change their worldview? Not much.

"Medicine Pocket!"

"Huh? What do you need?"

"Hey, have you been listening to me at all?! I'm talking in front of you and you're flying in the clouds and looking at Y/n?!"

"I'm not allowed? Just say it again."

"Damn it, Medicine Pocket! You're not yourself! And Y/n keeps look at them.... Did you guys have a fight?"

"Ms. Regulus, I don't think it's any of our business-"

"What do I care! I don't like my friends acting weird."

"...Hm-m-m... Hm-m..."

"Ms. Regulus, I don't think there's any friendship between them now."

"What??? Mr. Apple, do you think they quarreled to the point where they are now enemies? What nonsense! Those two have never gotten to that point."

"Miss, look closely."

"What else is there to look at?"

"Do you think friends get that look?"

"Hm-m?"

"I mean, have you ever seen Medicine Pocket look at them like that before? What kind of friendship can we talk about?"

"I don't understand."

"How should I put it... I think they're lovers."

"Uh-oh... Huh?!"

Tight hugs. Medicine Pocket are very clingy partners, it is important for them to touch their partner somehow, whether it is a hug, holding hands, touching each other with skin or through clothes - everything is accepted. And everything is given back in the same volume.

"Medicine, take pity on your back. Better stand up and stretch properly if you're tired."

"I'm more than comfortable."

You wouldn't be so worried if you weren't sitting in different chairs and the distance between you was enough for Medicine Pocket to reach up with your whole body and hug your neck, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Comfortable hanging like a jelly worm at the table?"

"Quite. Plus, they're tasty."

"Jelly berries are better."

"No way."

"Look, I don't doubt your stretch, but move closer then at least."

"Why do you care so much how I sit?"

"We're in a meeting."

Not that they like to shout about your relationship left and right, but they are not shy to show such small (and not so small) actions in a big crowd or at important events. Everyone knows everything for a long time, and those who are not satisfied - they are just jealous.

They don't know how to kiss. Yeah. It's not as bad as you'd think, but-- They're bad at it. But they learn fast! Just give them a couple sessions, oh, they'll love it. I'm sure you won't either.

If you can't do either, they can tease you for a while. Until it becomes clear that they are no better. Then they'll just grunt with a half smile. You both have a lot to learn.

Their kisses aren't even kisses at first. They're wet, emotional, ugly, you never know where they'll kiss you. But their favorite places are the lips and the back of the neck when they hug you from the back. If they have the chance, they'll kiss your shoulder.

They bite. They bite a lot. It doesn't matter where - almost you go has red bite marks, gritty skin from hickeys, and minor bruises when they hold you during coitus (I think they have pretty tenacious fingers). Of course, if there are places that hurt you too much, including your genitals - naturally they will remember them and not touch them. But biting is a way for them to show how much they like you.

If you want to bite them back, the first time you do, they'll give you a shocked look. Like, wtf? You're finally doing the same thing to them???

"... What was that."

"Sorry, I mistook your hand for my eclair. You won't be waving them around when you talk."

"... You're lying."

"You can't prove it."

"... Y/n."

"No."

"My darling..."

"Medicine Pocket, don't you dare."

"You're finally getting into it..."

"Medicine-"

There is a belief that if you don't speak your partner's love language, they will assume that you don't love them enough. It's a 50/50 situation here, but after the first time, get ready for them to get impatient for more biting. On their part, they will continue to bite as well, even more actively.

They 100% like your hair, whether it's short or long, but they favor the latter. Sitting and braiding your hair is soothing and your hair stays intact. But if that doesn't present itself - they like them too. Sometimes they need something to keep their hands occupied, you know?

"Please tell me, do you take me for a yorkshire terrier?"

"M-m-m...? What makes you think that?"

"Why do I have so many little tails all over my head?"

"You're just a hedgehog, get over it. If you snort..."

"Medicine Pocket."

"I get it, mhm. But isn't it cool? You look like a badass metalhead now."

"...Do you want to be on the team?"

"Huh?"

"Give me your hair, Doggo. I don't have to suffer alone."

They use all sorts of different nicknames for you, from the most banal "sweetheart" and "darling" to "pest" and "dumbass". The last ones, of course, are pronounced with more restraint.

In our case, they just eat something in the middle of the night after a tiring job. The emptying of the dog treat supply is attached.

Accept the fact that they have quite rowdy friends, just like themselves. Regulus and X alone are worth it. So don't be surprised if they start grabbing you and dragging you into all sorts of mischief. Don't worry, Medicine Pocket is usually always at your side, you'll all get what you deserve for your shenanigans.

They like loud music. Something like rock 'n' roll or metal, maybe electro or something, something half with meaning and a cool rhythm. So a lot of times when it's just the two of you, it's just the three of you: you, them and the music. They're fine with it. But! they'll turn it down if you're resting or you really, really need to concentrate. They know how to respect other people's concerns (in particular, just yours).

Everyone knows what dog people are like. And now you're in that category too. They always have at least 2-3 puppies running around at all times, and you have your own personal miniature guards. They yap at anyone but you. If you want, one will live with you (although it's probably illegal to keep animals specifically in rooms, but who says you're a law-abiding employee?) It's just a shame that the cats now smell dogs from you and avoid you.

Your personal doctor. Stomach ache? Take the pills in the third drawer of your desk. Horrible throbbing in your head? There were pills in the locker on the left, they don't seem to be gone yet. You need pads? They put them in the bottom drawer on purpose, they should fit you. Are you physically injured? 0.5 seconds, they'll digest the information on the fly and treat your wounds.

No one stammers on their qualifications, but you can't worry about pills and help.

They do not like to accept help when you try to support them morally. Even though you're partners, they just don't understand that help. They don't need it. They can handle it on their own.

Don't talk to them during this period. Don't try to get into their thoughts, moods, etc. Do not try to help, it will only make things worse. It doesn't matter what the situation is or how they come to it, whether it's another attempt to "humanize" Lucy or the failure of a very important experiment they had high hopes for.

Just, uh... Stick around. You know, somewhere. Walk around (just quietly), do your own thing, hum something, maybe even talk to yourself. Just do whatever it takes to show "I care. I'm here for you."

When this is over, they'll come to you. They will just crawl under your side and ask you about something that happened in their absence. Even if Medicine doesn't say anything for your help, know that they are grateful to the very depths of their souls.

NSFW

And this is where the difficulties begin.

Medicine Pocket don't identify themselves as any gender, moreover, they have no reproductive organs. And at first, you have to wonder. But they don't really think about it.

Why? Because they don't care too much about the topic at first.

They may not have a specific doctor's education, and I lean more towards veterinarian, but since they sometimes act as a doctor, we can conclude that they have some sort of doctor's education, which means that the subject of sex is not taboo for them at all.

This researcher is not one that desires you 24/7 and has an unconscionable amount of preferences.

Let's be honest, they probably aren't interested in such a thing as sex at all.

I believe that after the removal of reproductive organs they have lost at least half of their sensitivity in intimate places, if not all of it. They feel pain and all that, but they never really enjoyed it. They have many other ways of doing it.

I'm inclined to think they're asexual. And that explains their lack of interest in sex and such things, but just because they have no interest doesn't mean they can't be interested even a little bit. They have you now.

Yet, they love you more platonically. Hugging, kissing, spending time together and talking are priorities for them. Sex is just another nice perk you can explore together.

"What do you think of shibari?"

"How long ago did you start shooting in the forehead?"

"When I had to stick syringes in the board instead of darts. So?"

"How can I tell you my opinion on something I've never been involved in?"

"Solitaire."

"Medi, do I look like someone who's ever used it? I've never thought about tying anyone up."

"Who said you'd tie me up?"

"Same question for you."

"... "

"So you wanna try it once?"

"Fuck, which one of us has a libido at rock bottom?"

"What? I'm actually interested in this kind of thing for scientific purposes."

"I bet you've got a list of 1,000 and one ways to make me orgasm somewhere."

"Are you following me from this bottom with a camera?"

"Jesus, you're-"

They often wave off such ventures with phrases like "it's for science" and "I want to experiment with this...", you may no longer be surprised. Just say "yes" as you would to a phone scammer.

By the way, they have no desire to experiment with different places to do this. There's still something where their boundaries are strictly crossed by signaling tape. No prying eyes. Not even dog eyes (children are forbidden to look).

Even though they are chaos in its true incarnation and ruin the lives of half of Laplace, they aren't completely fucked up like many people think. When strangers to both of you look at you, their faces reflect only one emotion: pity for you.

Like they think you're, uh... Another animal to experiment on. And now let's think about the not-so-innocent thoughts that go through their heads... Uh-huh.

But really, Pocket is more than normal in all of this.

For example, they have their own rules when it comes to intimacy - nothing traumatizing. Nothing that could somehow cause harm or leave a more severe injury than a bite, a hickey, or a small bruise.

Yes, you'd think they'd be willing to experiment like mad scientists with evil intentions. The truth is, they are if it's interesting to them. And there's a lot of things they don't know, but not everything interests them enough.

They are pretty good at flirting, although they may not realize they have said something obscene. It's only when you hint at it that they realize. And they're pretty good at it directly.

If you flirt back with them, they don't get excited and flirt back. They just lose their filter, you know?

"I have a very important question."

"I'm busy, let's do it later..."

"It's urgent."

*deep sigh* "Just a minute."

"Is your heart free?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course not. I've got atria and aorta and ventricles and stuff in there."

"...That's not what I mean."

"I have no other heart."

"..."

"Is that it?"

"Oh, fuck you, you ruined my attempt at flirting."

"Are you fucking flirting with me?"

"I'm trying, thanks for noticing."

They're clearly leading this whole thing. Leading and not getting anything in return. Seriously, they don't need to be fucked back like they do you.

They enjoy watching you squirm in pleasure. How you wriggle against their hands or tongue, how you moan, how you beg them to continue. That's their ultimate reward.

But I think they would really like it if you praised them afterwards. Tell them what a great job they are doing, pat them on the head and just put them down. +100 for mood and everything.

They are willing to experiment, but not often. If you want to try a different position, some role play, toys, etc., they will definitely try it with you, if it is unconventional and interesting enough. But, uh no, anything to do with dogs in this regard only makes them disgusted and distrustful.

But I think they favor missionary and cowgirl, but only if you sit with your back to them. It's easier for them to control the situation.

They don't really care if it's going to be with clothes on or not. They're fine both ways, but if you have your own fetishes about it, well, they'll take that into account.

I wouldn't say they are immediately very caring partners afterwards. They will definitely check how you are feeling and then lie down next to you to rest. Then when you both have the energy - you'll clean up together.

Okay, fair enough. Medicine Pocket will have a really hard time admitting to themselves for the first time that they suddenly want to try something with you other than hugging and kissing. Like, why? They don't need it, and all of a sudden-

They are complete wrecks before they even start. But not shifting wrecks, but disappointed in themselves. It's not that bad, but they're a bit doomed.

But when the first time goes, it's a little stiff, it's a little different than a lot of people say, like, "wow, that was so great" or "that was a hot night." No. You just let each other relax the first time. Trust. And have fun with how idiotic they are.

I slide the comb up and down, and the hair becomes more manageable under the plastic tines. The tangled, messy strands line up like a ruler into something more pleasing to the eye. Finally, silence.

Emotions from the hard day are fading, and so is the urge to drop everything to hell. It's time to savor the minutes before bed. It's still illegal for two people to sleep in the same room - who follows the rules anyway, huh? Especially out of the two of us.

"Ha-ah, finally can lie down. I'm tired," — a heavy body thudded against the bed beside me. I set aside my hairbrush and fix my gaze on them, my lips involuntarily spreading into a smile.

"I think you're making my bed squeak louder," — I decided to tease a little before I suggested a topic for the evening. I didn't care that my bed wasn't made of wood but of iron, I could hear the mattress creaking.

"Just send in a request for a new bed, that's all."

The sheer calmness on their part alarms me, and also the fact that they don't take their wrist away from their eyes or look at me. Maybe their eyes are just tired. Anything's possible.

"How easy you have it. It didn't squeak like that before you started sleeping with me," — I chuckle, but decide to stay out of their way. I can tell by their voice that they're tired, so I just lie back on the pillow, spreading my arms out. My feet stay in my slippers on the floor, and we both end up taking up almost the entire bed in different positions.

"It's like I sleep with you every day."

It's true. Some nights they stay in my bed, and some nights I can't even wait a week to sleep together-who predicted an easy job all the time? Mercuria certainly won't predict anything easy.

"I'm not so heavy."

Oh, yeah? You'll be about 70 pounds if you're tall. I'm just saying:

"The bed doesn't care whether you're heavy or not. It'll bend without any external force."

Medicine finally sigh, and turns to face me. The look in their eyes is so... Mocking, after the fatigue. I guess I shouldn't have started this.

"Why so wistful? Like you want it to be an outside influence," — I press my lips together. Depends on whether they mean dumping a rather heavy Lucy or one of their adult dogs onto my bed. Or them.

I don't really feel like asking someone to take money out of the Laplace budget for me to buy a new bed. Just to give me money, I'm all for that.

"Don't count on being able to wreak chaos in my room."

"I was counting on it from the moment I walked in here."

"Thinking five moves ahead?"

"Always."

The corners of their lips twitch, but it doesn't come to a smile. Instead, they stare at the ceiling and make a indefinite hand gesture toward the rest of the room.

They're kind of pensive today.

"You've got this place so clean and tidy it's rippling in my eyes. Why do you like cleaning so much?"

I don't understand. I raise up on my elbows and look around. The table is littered with papers and Picrasma candies, a toy ball from the last walk is lying in the corner, clothes are hanging (trying hard) on the chair, and that in a crumpled state. On the floor are stacks of books from Laplace's library. Oh, right, need to give them away sometime.

"Is this a joke? Is my place in order?" — I stare at they like Christmas paraphernalia in a midsummer store window.

If order to them is my room, then... No, I know what chaos is. They're smiling through their teeth, staring at me now. It would have been better if they had kept their eyes under their arm and lay still further.

"The question is over. I'll assume I'm in order," — I sigh and lie back down on the soft pillow. I'll never take my head off it again.

There is silence between us for a while. I stare at the ceiling, and so do they. We're both in a state of boketto. It's been a long time since I've seen Medicine Pocket so... Pensive or something. Regulus would call it the calm before the storm.

Suddenly, they sigh loudly and beat their hands on the blanket, then sit up and move closer to me. Their looks are somber and clearly do not bode well as their head falls on my chest, and then they are relatively calm again. Sometimes I wonder if they have mental problems with expressing emotions, but no, during the experiments they show their full range of emotions.

My only question is, why do they have such a sour look on their faces lately?

Throughout the week, almost every night we spend together, they are like this. They just lie like that for a while, and then suddenly they go into the state of a child who didn't get candy.

And I decide to voice the question, also frowning:

"Did fleas bite you?"

Oh, I should have been softer. As it is.

Medicine Pocket shot me an angry glance and lowered his head again. Was that too rude? I'll never know how to talk to them. Their mood is like an arrow on a compass: one way or the other.

I put the back of my hand to their cheek. I don't know, maybe they're having another attack of love for me, and the energy is pouring out of them, and they're afraid to say so.

But their cheeks are just warm, even cool. Mentally I spread my hands apart and give up.

I'm used to it, but sometimes it's not just me who gets alarmed, so I had to be sure.

I slowly run my hand through their snow-white hair, spiritually rolling on the floor again from how soft and manageable it is. Why can't I have one of those?

"Sorry. Is something wrong?" — I soften, so as not to scare them. I'll still fight them to share their worries with me, it's too early to give up.

For a few seconds they are silent. But not their face. Medicine is the kind of person whose face is subtitled, and so it's not hard to tell what they're thinking even if they're silent.

First displeasure. Then disgust. Shame. Doubt and decision. Drum roll...

And...

Silence, eyes lowered into the blanket. Only their arms come around my waist and hug me tightly. I run my hands over their white strands, finally accepting defeat.

This goes on for a few minutes until I decide to turn off the light. Clap-clap and the lights go out, leaving only the faint glow of the nightlight on the nightstand. I love Laplace for its technology, honestly.

I suspect I'm not going to have a heart-to-heart to them. And just when I was getting comfortable, lightly covering my tired eyes with my lashes...

"Have you ever wanted to fuck me?"

And I open my five-kopeck eyes. Incomprehensible, surprised, I look at them through the darkness, and they stare at me point-blank. It's not sickening or unpleasant, but rather incomprehensible. The surprise on my face is not worth describing.

I'm just shocked.

"B-be specific. Why the question?"

"I should have asked at some point. Did you want it or not?" — you'd think they'd have no brakes at all. Just like that, head-on, like a truck, flying in and asking. But I can see in the nightlight the soft blush on their cheeks. Only now the meaning of the question reaches me, and I feel embarrassment rush to my fingertips.

"N-no, well, not that I want to..."

"Anyway, yes or no?"

"No," — I decide to be honest. "At least I hadn't thought about it until now."

To be honest, I hadn't really thought about it. It hadn't occurred to me since the moment I found out they didn't have reproductive organs. There were oh-so-many questions in my head at the time, but I had to keep them all quiet out of respect for them. And now they are so successfully (or not) resurfacing.

It doesn't seem to be the answer they were expecting. Their expression softens a little, but they're still scowling. Resting their chins on my chest and pouting pale lips.

"Would you like to try it?"

At this point, I just stare at them like I'm seeing them for the first time.

What do you mean, "Would you like to try it?"

I stare into the yellow eyes, but I see nothing but genuine interest. And insolence. Damn the fact that they were scientists, and they had to feed their demons, too.

So, what, now it's me?

And now he's gonna feed me to them.

I don't want to be eaten.

I lift my head and stare aimlessly at the iron ceiling, as if to avoid the conversation. Would I want to have sex with them? On the one hand, like yes, but on the other... Because of the fact that they, uh. As if to say, there's "nothing" for them to do with me. Would that be fair?

"How do you envision it?" — no, really, how?

"Do you want me to explain it to you in detail or can you figure it out for yourself, hm?"

"Medicine, damnit. Since when do you want to discuss this topic?"

They're silent now. They must have swallowed their tongue. No, seriously, it's... It's so weird to discuss this topic so abruptly when there wasn't even any premise! I sigh and spread my hands.

"I mean, not that I don't want to, it's an optional part of a relationship, but... of course I do, don't you think?" — honesty is kind of my forte, but in this thread, I'm a little... Ugh. Not embarrassed, but it's really embarrassing.

They continue to stare at me, and then rise and now hover over me without taking their eyes off me. Have I mentioned how serious they can be when they don't want to miss an opportunity to get results anytime soon?

Uh-oh... W-what are their actions implying?

"You mean you're okay with it? Great."

I dull my gaze somewhere down at their white T-shirt, stained with whatever it is. Nice stains, colorful. I think for only a couple seconds.

"I think that's what I need to ask you."

The expression on their faces changes to more confused, but in a mocking sort of way. They pout their lips slightly, and use one hand to lift strands of my hair up.

"Pfff, don't tell me you're too embarrassed about all this. It's not like you're five years old to have a topic like sex hidden from you."

Sometimes I really want to push them away to get them to back off, but it's such a situation that the topic will come up again sooner or later. Tomorrow, while we grab something for breakfast at the Laplace Cafeteria. Medicine Pocket and tact will clearly never cross paths. Only sometimes when Ezra or the other kids are around. Mesmer has warned they more than once about filtering they vocabulary in the presence of others, but it's like they listen to her.

"That's not the point."

I glance sideways, toward the window. It's well past midnight, and we're still awake. I'd give anything right now to be able to fall asleep in seconds like my mom.

"So fucking explain to me what's wrong?"

They glare at me expectantly. Inhale, exhale.

"I'm the only one who's going to enjoy sex. I don't like that," — I clapped them on the shoulder, not sure what I was trying to say. Comforting? That's so stupid. "You said yourself what bullshit it is and that you don't even need sex. So you're only going to fuck me, and I don't want to feel guilty that you won't have a good time either."

I'm expecting a flood of judgment in my direction. Come on, no pause. I'm really curious as to what made them want to sleep with me. No, well, I'm certainly not a beauty to be given a Miss Universe award, but actually...

They snort. Before I can prepare myself for a wave of anything, they beat me to it.

I stare at them again, uncomprehending. They don't hide their mockery now, just pout their lips, as if they'd foreseen this result before...

"Medicine Pocket," — I cross my arms over my chest in annoyance. "You knew I'd think that, didn't you?"

They make a gesture like it's "fifty-fifty", and I want to strangle them.

"That's not fair."

"Hm-m?"

"I'm actually concerned about your pleasure too! And you... You..."

"Bastard. Asshole. Come on darling, I like it, keep going," — they burst out laughing as I use a good amount of force to slap them on the shoulder with the palm of my hand. It's really not fair!

I sulked, shooting them a lightning-fast glance from under my hair. So they've thought this through from the very beginning, long before this conversation. Sometimes I think they'd punch the panzer of anyone's heart and make it beat to their previously thought-out rhythm.

Oh, that's me. I mean, they're testing it on me.

"I don't mind."

The rules of this game they're playing are starting to become clearer and clearer in my mind.

"You mean?.."

"If you're going to enjoy yourself physically while I fuck you, that's fine with me. Especially since who says I won't enjoy the process at all, hm-m-m?"

It's the end. I felt my heart break, beating so fast, so fast, like it was scared of something. Of course it's scared of something, damn it. Medicine Pocket deftly guides his fingertips down my thigh, scuffing up my t-shirt.

"Just imagine how much you're going to moan under me while I-"

I don't even want to know what expression I have on my face, I cover their mouth with my hand and stare away. Out of embarrassment. I try not to pay attention to the sudden sensations in my body from their actions. I probably look really stupid in Medicine Pocket opinion, but that's not what I care about.

My concern is that conversation is conversation and they're seriously offering to fuck me... Right now?

And in that snide tone of voice. And they're giving me something to think about.

Mommy, I'm going crazy. My ears are throbbing.

"Are you suggesting to me right now...?"

When they start smiling through my hand, I'm suddenly released.

This dog will drive me to the pen before old age or paperwork.

I take my hand away. Mine and theirs off my stomach. I wonder what they'll say.

"Why not? Especially since..."

"No."

"Hey, why not?"

Because the cancer on the mountain didn't whistle and the sky didn't burst into rainbows.

Forcibly, by the back of my head, I put them back on top of me. They pout, but they don't say anything. Still hoping their game will continue a little longer than my firm no.

"If I talked to you about dying now, and then offered to let you die, would you accept?"

"Ha-a, you're being dramatic again."

"Not at all."

I finger the white strands as Medicine intertwines our fingers. They're not sulking, no, not offended or disappointed by this conversation. Rather, all the accumulated stuff that was keeping them from thinking properly has come out of their soul.

When later they put their arms around my waist, pulling up my T-shirt, I don't protest, either. I just feel my fever rising again. We're both very tired, and I don't think anything good will come out of the business they suggests we try.

I chase thoughts of the conversation around in circles, staring out the darkness of the window. Their cold hands gradually warm against my skin, the fresh air from the ajar window mixing with our scents.

I don't feel disappointed by the conversation, but its abruptness doesn't let me go, nor does the warmth in my cheeks. I'm probably still red in the face.

And when their hints of what they're about to turn me into come into my head, I feel even worse.

I tuck us in with the blanket and close my eyes with the thought that someday this will come true until the knot in my stomach lets go.

"Good night."

Someday I'll answer them in the same coin.

I wanted to write this part faster, but there was no way the text wanted to flow until I wrote it in first person... It was something of a mess, and for the first few hours I was completely annoyed with how it turned out, until I sat down to edit. It came out well enough, it turns out. I also kept thinking I'd written too little, and when I sat down to edit, I realized I'd become my own enemy.

Anyway, there will be one more installment in this series (???) and then I'll be writing something separate. Hopefully the text will flow better there.

Thanks for reading!

[thewhizzyhead]

if I had a nickel for every musical I've been sucked into that featured a main ensemble of at least 8 women, with two of those girls ending up dead/arrested, and another one being falsely accused of murder but ends up getting acquitted in the end, I'd have two nickels! Which isn't a lot! But it's weird that it happened twice!

[crownedwille]

I've come to the conclusion that loving young royals doesn't mean I can't be critical about it, maybe especially bc I love the show so much I have such strong feelings about it, good and bad and I can love parts of canon and agree with it and appreciate it but I don't have to love it all. I have accepted that it's okay if I don't accept the ending and I don't have to force myself to support it. It's okay to not agree with all of canon and it's okay to not side with all of the creators' intentions/views. Loving a show doesn't mean you have to take everything the writers say on face value and that's the only version that is allowed to exist. Canon isn't everything and fandom is about curating your own experience that makes you happy and not miserable. You don't have to dismiss canon in every aspect and ignore it entirely, that's certainly not what I want but there is a fine line between being canon respectful, allowing some parts to exist and sometimes, yes, you just have to say "fuck canon" and move on for your own sanity and wellbeing

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Whumptember day 10

“What are you doing to them?” Brainwashed | Hanging from their wrists | Phone call

It felt like their brain was vibrating. All they could hear or feel was an endless buzzing, like all their atoms were trying to pull apart from one another. It was overwhelming, muffling any sensations from the outside world. They couldn't hear, they couldn't think. Their brain was vibrating.

It’d hurt, before. Or they thought it had. They couldn’t remember much before the buzzing had started, but they remembered struggling against the feeling. Had they fought because it hurt? Because it was bad? They didn't remember.

They didn’t struggle now. They didn’t know how, when the entire world was vibrating.

It was like bees had taken residence in their skull; not to harm it, but to reshape it. Everything useless was tossed away, the gaping holes being filled with honey. They’d fought to stop it, but then the memory of why they were fighting had been drowned in sticky sweetness.

It was dizzying and disorienting, it put their teeth on edge, but they didn’t know if it hurt. They couldn’t know anything, not when their brain was vibrating.

They heard voices somewhere outside of their hive they’d become, distant and nearly drowned out.

“What…what is this? What are you doing to them?”

“Hero, you’re aware of our reformation project, yes? Villain is our first patient.”

Just barely, they could hear the voices approaching.

“I–So you’re what, brainwashing them? Is this ethical? Does it hurt?”

Yes, the thought bubbled through the buzzing, it does, please it–

”No, not at all. It’s entirely painless.”

–doesn’t hurt? No, it doesn’t, but didn’t it before? They weren’t sure anymore. The question was being thrown away alongside the other trash, swallowed up and drowned out. They quickly lost hold of it.

Something touched a distant part of their body, and it took a long moment for them to realize they were more than their buzzing skull. Something had been holding their arms aloft, and with a click, it released. They nearly fell forward without the support, but something wrapped around their face held them up, pulling at their scalp.

“Villain, can you hear me? It’s Hero,” The voice was back, closer, but still muffled by the chaos in their mind. It felt like the voice reminded them of something, but they didn’t know. The part of their brain that had known had been scooped out and replaced, leaving barely the shape of a memory.

Something clicked, the noise echoing in the mind, and the buzzing sharpened. They shivered at the sensation of their brain finally sitting still, the see of static shifting into an organized effort.

“Stand up,” The voice wasn’t muffled by the noise, it was the noise. The vibration was shaped by the words, speaking with power that they felt in their bones.

It was a relief, and they chased after that peace. They stood on legs they hardly remembered they had.

Something was moving on their head, whatever had been wrapped around their skull being removed. The world exploded into color, the change taking them a moment to adjust to. When they opened their eyes, two figures stood before them.

The vibrating was already coming back, their moment of peace fading. But then one of the figures clicked a button they held in their hands, and everything sharpened.

“Tell me, who are you and what do you want?”

They hadn’t known the answer seconds ago. They still didn’t know, and yet the truth formed in their mind. After the disorientating chaos, the confidence they felt at their answer was a comfort.

And outside of the angry hive Villain’s mind had become, Hero watched, a horrified onlooker, as their former foe’s face split with a vacant, dull-eyed smile.

“My name is Sidekick, and I want to help you in any way possible.”

[sysig]

Coming in to play! (Patreon)

[kingslionheart]

Do you think Uhtred was as in love with Alfred as Alfred was with him?

HELLO!! okay, i think that they loved (and despised) each other in equal measure, though the actual difference that should be considered with them is more about who showed it more between the two of them than whether or not they had the same amount of love for each other, and for that it's also important to consider that how much someone shows the love doesn't automatically imply that one loved the former more than the latter.

so if we consider the question as a "who was more willing to show that love" then i would argue that it was actually uhtred who did that more, but that's completely because he was more open to it compared to alfred who had wayyyy more to lose and wayyyy more issues with loving a man than uhtred ever did (for example, uhtred's openness with aethelstan's homosexuality in seven kings must die).

NOW, my brain is pretty dead so i don't know how to explain it any better, but i think i talked more about all of this in detail on this previous post!! xx

[invinciblerodent]

Y'know, puttering around with my recordings, I think I really am going to give Davrin's romance with Ver a pretty serious twisting around. Rewrite some things a bit, change things around, keep most of the "slow burn" of it intact- but also add in the "friends with benefits" elements that I feel match what he says in the check-in scene after the point of no return better.

I think I have a post from like, months before release, when all we knew about the character was "charming Warden (who may or may not have been the Storm Coast team's commander in '41)", about how I sort of expected his to be the romance that starts off more casual (with the expiration date all Wardens have, it's not surprising that someone who's been one for at least ten years would be hesitant to enter any genuine emotional entanglements, platonic or romantic), and then for him to find himself falling for Rook unexpectedly (and kind of against his will) anyway.

And from some of that late dialogue, I still think that that may have been the exact intention, initially, but maybe they didn't want to create too big a disparity between the different romance paths, or like they didn't want for it to come off like they weren't taking him as seriously as the rest, so the path sort of ended up getting a bit... I don't wanna say "subdued", but I can't think of a better word lol. Brought to match the pacing of the others and the overall story more, that's more like what I mean.

.... Anyway, I kinda think I wanna have them sleep together for the first time either after his personal quest (no more distractions, clearly established romantic interest in- and some commitment to one another, but with still an opportunity to angst about everything else) or preferably, that night after drinking with Lucanis.

I'm leaning towards the latter thought, specifically because it'd be clearly a very, very bad idea.

It'd be far too fast, far too early, I got that scene like right after the Cauldron, so deep in the thick of his personal quest- plus, the mutual interest was barely expressed like one day prior to it, and there was alcohol involved. Which all kind of makes it perfect, because it's an awful time to toss that complication in there.

But, it gives me an opportunity to have the both of them keep thinking that it being just a casual, physical thing is what the other wants (despite the "well, I could see us heading somewhere, someday" of it), and to have their feelings developing sort of in the background of it-- and then!!!!! that forest kiss can also take a role more like another complicating factor, with the "heart of a halla" line being a bit more ambiguous.

Like, casually kissing your booty call/situationship/FWB you've been secretly falling for, it's a bit more touchy-feely than the previously established [they were not established] guidelines [there are no guidelines] suggest is appropriate [none of this is appropriate], but it feels right, and that alone makes it feel weird and confusing, ykwim?

But, then the whole "Most of my life, I've gone it alone. With you... I never want to go back." thing makes more sense being where it is, after his personal quest, to me at least. Because that sounds like a confession, and with being free from worries and the griffons safe (with Eldrin, in that game), there's a great time to have a long-ish, actually serious conversation about what this is and where it's going.

.... That would also mean that some of the bed scene dialogue doesn't make as much sense ("Is this all just for show"? "Just like I imagined"? Girl you know exactly if it's for show and what his hands feel like, you've been getting dicked down semi-regularly for weeks), but I can work with some tweaks to that lol. The final parts of it, about planning the future and getting soppy still make perfect sense, it's just those lines in the leadup that need some minor tweaking.

Idk, I really liked the in-game experience I had, and I love me a good slow burn, but I can't deny that it's more my style when "slow burn" doesn't also mean ".... so sex is a thing that happens only at the very end, when all feelings are resolved". I like it adding more uncertainty and confusion into the mix, and giving a sort of "oh, this is different now" feel to that first time once the feelings are also resolved.

(The date though, I wanna keep where and how it is exactly, because he mentions he got the tip for the picnic from Evka and Antoine, and I find it really cute to imagine him just sort of looking at them after speaking with Valya like.... "... they probably have the right idea of it, don't they. While we're here, let... let me just go ask. How to, uh. Do this whole. Romance thing, I guess. Make it sound, idk, casual. And chill. We're... chill." Never mind that Evka and Antoine are literally one of the most romantic couples any of them know, but yknow, nbd.)

(And then it goes all the way sideways? Love it. Love the "hey so this tea I thought would be a fun, cute thing for us to try made her trip absolute balls for a while, so maybe this outing is not a great opportunity to like, talk. Seriously. About how I may or may not be falling a little bit in love with her. And by 'little bit', I mean 'up to the very tips of my ears'. Nbd, just gonna... postpone, spilling my guts out for her perusal, I guess." of it all. A+, no notes.)