#Feels like there's some solid progress now- I feel like studies are a little more under control now even if time is still short

[yeleltaan]

//Hello, it's been a minute! Still around, just quiet and busy.

[prettieinpink]

ESTABLISHING YOUR ROUTINE

A routine is essential for us to become the best versions of ourselves, but for us to fully commit to a routine, it has to be aligned with our needs and values.

hehe trying out a different aesthetic 😚😚

FIGURE OUT WHAT NEEDS TO BE DONE DAILY. This isn’t what your to-do list currently looks like, but rather how you want your to-list to look like. If you can’t think of anything right now, carry a small notebook or open your notes app during the day to take notes of anything you may want to add to your routine.

BREAK THOSE TASKS INTO SMALLER ONES. This helps us to see more clearly in our routine and helps to make our tasks or goals easier to achieve. E.g. Avoid saying ‘study time’ but say flashcards and re-reading notes.

SET GOALS. This can be daily, weekly, monthly and so on. Just have those little habits in your routines that help you advance to reach your goals. This also helps with our motivation throughout the day.

STRUCTURE YOUR DAY EFFICENTLY. If you have a day where there are no urgent or important tasks to be done, use it to take notes on how you feel throughout. Document the times when you feel the most productive, energised, social and tired. Using this information, divide your tasks into the times that suit each other.

ALLOW FOR FREE TIME BLOCKS IN YOUR DAY. One, for just allowing some time for your brain and body to just chill. Two, just so if anything comes up, you have a free window of time to do it.

TEST YOUR ROUTINE AND MAKE ADJUSTMENTS. Throughout the day, ask yourself; ‘how does my routine make me feel?’ and ‘What tasks do I dread, and what do I look the most forward to?’ If need to be, make any changes.

BE CONSISTENT. This is the only way for a routine to be solid in your life, to do them at the same time every day. This tip sounds mundane, but you can always change it up a little. E.g. Listen to different podcasts or audiobooks every time you go out for your walks.

PREPARE FOR YOUR ROUTINE. Allow your environment to encourage anything you want to add to your routine, for example, if you want to do yoga in the morning, leave your yoga mat in front of your bed where you can see it.

INCLUDE BREAKS, FOOD AND EXERCISE. Resting, eating well and moderate exercise help us to be more productive in the day, and to complete our tasks to higher standards.

KEEP TRACK OF YOUR PROGRESS. See which habits you’re more inclined to do, and which ones you usually avoid. Sometimes, some habits just aren’t meant for us, and that’s okay.

FORGIVE YOURSELF FOR NOT COMMITTING. It’s okay, you’re going to have days when your routine is the least ideal. Don’t beat yourself up for it, instead try to at least accomplish one task that’s a part of your routine.

MAKE IT ENJOYABLE. Your routine isn’t something to punish you, but rather something that helps you to keep an orderly life. It should be something that you’re at least willing to do.

Some ways to make it fun: Listen to music while you do tasks, romanticise your routine as much as possible, include rewards for anything productive and try to involve your loved ones.

[angstywaifu]

The Lost Sister - Part 24

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC A/N: Just want to say thank you to all of you who have joined in on this series in the last week. There is so many of you now! Hope you're enjoying it! This week is a smaller one, but I can promise you will not be disappointed with some of the stuff you will find out. Enjoy!

The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

It feels like I blink and December flies by. And with it, the return of challenges. We had been given a break around threshing. Giving us time to adjust to our dragons, the new training we had to take up, and any signets that might manifest. Which was probably a smart idea. There were plenty of signets amongst the first years that could have been deadly if they manifested in a challenge where no rules were in play. I hate to think what my signet would have done if it manifested during a challenge.

But now I had the challenge of not using my signet during the challenges. With a classified signet I was restricted in what I could show around the other students. The only place I was technically allowed to use my signet was around Carr. So far he seemed impressed with the progress I was making. Well the progress I was willing to show him. Which so far was moving objects and even him around. Controlling a human was way harder than an object. That night of the attack had seemed so easy, but Carr had informed me due to the situation I had probably delved deep into my power to save myself. I had made that cadet drop that dagger as if it was natural and something I had willed. Carr was a different story. He looked like a puppet. His movements were janky and rigid. I had to remind myself I was also going up against someone who knew how to shield very well. Another thing I would have to learn to break through he told me. Something I would have to practice with Xaden or Garrick in our training sessions after classes. Outside of Carr’s private sessions I now no longer needed to delve into my mind, into that courtyard to focus on someone’s mind and sense what they were feeling. I was starting to pick up on more their strengths, weaknesses and emotions. I was getting small glimpses into their mind. Nothing solid that I could pinpoint what it was, but it was progress. Progress I hoped I could turn into reading opponents intentions. Not that I needed it. Melgren’s training had taught me how to read my opponents movements and stances, to predict what their next move might be. But only time would tell.

As the rest of my squad head to another round of challenges, a round I could tell Violet and Liam were extremely nervous about, I walk through the door to Carr’s classroom. And it’s clear this lesson will be different to the last. Standing in front of Carr is Dain Aetos. The only other cadet in the quadrant with a classified signet. Dain turns as I walk in, his eyes narrowing, clearly not expecting me either.

”Excellent, you received my note.” Carr says with a smile. “You’ve proven you can handle a weapon without any issue so I thought we could use the time to strengthen your signet and test Dain’s.”

Dain turns his head back to Carr, confusion written all over his face. “And how do you expect to test me sir?”

Carr gives Dain one of the smiles that always sends a chill down my spine. “Miss Riorson here has a very very rare signet. The first of its kind. And if the tomes I have studied over the years are anything to go by, she should have a very powerful shield. One so powerful, it should be able to stop anyone from accessing her mind.”

Shit. He planned to see if Dain could access my memories. And if Carr was wrong, Dain would have open reign on everything I know. Everything from the rebellion. Everything from my time with Melgren. And everything that had happened since I had been here. Including the information I now knew about the weapons smuggling and the Gryphon riders. Shit.

Relax. You will be fine. He will not be able to get anything. Mealladh says confidently in my head.

So Carr is right? I ask, relief washing over me.

Yes. You have a very strong shield. Even before I chose you and you manifested your signet. It is one of the reasons I chose you. No one without a dragon or a signet should have a shield as strong as yours. The colonels son wont be able to make a dent in it unless you let him in. Which for you, can be harder than learning to shield for most cadets. You won’t have to do a thing.

Mealladh’s words fill me with confidence as I walk over and drop my bag next to Dain’s on the floor. Carr merely nods at Dain and motions towards me. Signalling to start. Carr had not uttered a word of Dain’s signet. He assumes I don’t know what it is. Probably hoping if he is wrong that I will have no time to stop what is coming. But Xaden and Garrick had known. I assume as those higher up in the Quadrant they had access to the information. I had never asked how they knew. I just knew to avoid his touch. But right now I had no choice. I just had to hope and believe what Mealladh said was true.

Dain turns to me and holds his hands up, hovering either side of my head. He’s nervous. “My signet relies on touch. You ok if i-”

”Just do it.” I tell him sternly, cutting him off.

Dain nods before placing his hands either side of my head, closing his eyes as if needing to focus. But I keep mine open and focused on him. I watch as his eye brows furrow in confusion, as if not expecting what he finds. Or what he doesn’t find. I can feel something faint, very faint at the edge of my mind. The sensation remind me of a feather being dragged across my skin. I hadn’t tried to put my shields up like Melgren taught me. It was like they we’re already there. Already solidified in place. Unbreakable. I feel the sensation again, as if the feather is trying to break through. I can see Dain’s face shift at the effort. As if he is trying to hammer through my shield with great force. But to me, its as if barely anything is happening. I do what Melgren had taught me, slamming up the shield. I watch as Dain recoils as if shocked, his hands leaving my head as his eyes fly open, his chest rising rapidly as he struggles for air.

”I-I couldn’t see anything.” He tells Carr, his eyes still focused on me.

Out of the corner of my eyes I watch Carr smile again. “And let me guess, you tried to put up an actual shield at the end there?” His question directed at me.

I nod. “Yes.”

Even as I keep my eyes on Dain who looks like he is still trying to figure out what happened, I see the joy in Carr’s eyes. The joy at being right. I know as soon as I leave this room he will send word to Melgren of this new discovery. I had no doubt I would be tested against other cadets in the quadrant who bore mental signets. But I knew none we’re as powerful as Dain. The only exception might have been Jeremiah. Could a full innistic penetrate my shields? I would have no way to know seeing as the quadrant killed anyone who manifested that signet.

”Excellent. You are both dismissed. Feel free to head to challenges if you so wish.” Carr says with a flick of his had before turning to his desk and grabbing a roll of parchment. Another note of Melgren.

Dain and I leave the classroom, Dain rushing off towards the challenges. I roll my eyes before following slowly behind him. Maybe I can catch the challenge Liam and Violet we’re so worried about. As I go to round the corner to the gym, a voice in my head stops me in my tracks.

Shit. He’s gonna kill me cause she got hurt. Shit.

A voice that is neither mine nor Mealladh. It sounds almost like-

I round the corner and pacing back and forth is Liam. Liam whose voice I just heard inside my head

Part 25

@riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99 @xceafh @leptitlu @came-to-laugh-but-cried @onthewaytotimbuktu @daardyrnitta @lovemesomevesey @mxtokko @krowiathemythologynerd @callsign-blue @1islessthan3books

[whiteraven90]

*kisses your hands* it doesn't feel/ read like you like smelling your own farts LMAO, love your little additions to the tags in the asks! Thank you for answering my ask <3 you're the sweetest~!

if I may ask one more for the fun and trivia, if you like to, what are some art goals that you've set for yourself during the years that you've managed to achieve? You can elaborate as much as you want!

If you feel like writing a little extra, you could pick one and maybe share some notes that really stood out to you while studying<3

are my questions weird? I hope not ;; thank you for indulging me <333

Thank you for asking! Your questions are unique, not weird. :'D But also, I like weird. Be weird, be you I always struggled with drawing people, even though I always wanted to draw them. Making eye contact and drawing faces gave me so much anxiety that it blocked my progress. At some point I exposure-therapied myself out of it and now I'm neutral even about a solid wall of portrait photos staring at me from my second screen. This even helped me with people irl. Not a very technical goal/achievement, but it's important to me. For something less psychological and more technical... Figuring out how light affects green foliage, and how to make its color life-like really vexed me for a while. Threw a boatload of references and practice at it, and now I feel good about it. My blog's header picture is what it is because of it. :')

[aseriesofsmallthings]

Hello!

Welcome to my writeblr! I'm very new to this whole thing, and while I have *had* tumblr for a while now, I've never actually used it, so please bear with me :)

About my writing

I started out writing fanfic and short stories over a decade ago (ouch, now I feel old) and am hoping someday to become a published novelist. I mostly write horror, fantasy, and dystopian fiction, (with romance often playing quite a big role), though I am incapable of resisting dabbling in other genres too from time to time. A lot of my writing tends to deal with themes of loss, mental illness, suffering, and the inevitability of the human condition. In a bid to see myself and others like me represented more widely in the media, my longer fiction works often include neurodiverse, disabled and lgbt+ characters.

About me!

First things first, my name is Shannon, though online I mostly go by Shay. Feel to free use either :)

Now, a few fun little facts to break up those hefty chunks of writing (make the most of it, this might be the last time in a while).

I'm from, and currently live in, the UK. And I use she/they pronouns.

I'm a (twenty-something year old) child living an adult's life. And I am not having fun. Please, send help.

My reading tastes tend to be quite similar to my writing, in that I'll read just about anything I deem interesting in most genres but my preferences lie in dystopia and fantasy.

I have AuDHD and a whole host of other funky little brain things that keep writing (and life) all that much more fun! On a serious note, this may mean I'll disappear from time to time and posts may not always be consistent. (It also means interactions may be somewhat difficult for me, so again, please bear with me :)

I'm an amateur field hockey player with no other interest in sport besides playing it.

I have studied creative writing at uni briefly but I'm currently in the midst of switching to a social sciences and anthropology degree - expect a little academia related content maybe.

I'm a fur-parent - pictures may follow (they definitely will) of my little demon child.

I love to travel (especially solo) and often take a lot of inspiration for my writing from my little adventures, from setting and plot ideas to character development and world-building. Also, train journeys have proven quite fruitful in producing some pretty solid sentences... that have yet to be of further use.

A few pictures (below) from my most recent solo trip.

I also occasionally play video games, listen to an unhealthy amount of rock music, obsess over fictional characters (other than my own), and partake in multiple other creative pastimes, most of which get abandoned rather unceremoniously (thank you, ADHD).

About my writeblr

My username 'a series of small things' comes from one of my favourite Van Gogh quotes; "great things are not done all at once, but by a series of small things brought together", which I think is really apt, not only as a writer but also just in everyday life too. Also, inspite being rather artistically inept myself, I have a fondness for ol' Vinny, which makes the quote even more perfect.

I hope to use this space as a way to start getting my original work out into the world and to hopefully make some like-minded friends along the way too! I'll mostly be posting some of my short stories and progress reports on my longer wips, but may also post some poetry and other random ramblings from time to time.

Feel free to ask me any questions and interact with me :)

[offshore-brinicle]

HI HELLO IM BACK AGAIN

Remember when you were thinking of the connections with sinners' cantos in terms of themeing and I couldn't think of one for Heath n Don? I certainly have now!

Like, Heathcliff is pretty smart and logical, knows what fights to pick and of anyone else will try and pick them in his stead. His summary of Faust's[?] explanation in the newest Dante’s notes shows how he has a pretty solid understanding of what she's saying, and the way he consistently is one of the few sinners to question her and others in both the story and abno logs further proves how he actively questions things rather than taking them as first value. The way he stresses how Dante should turn back Don in canto IV even while he himself is hurt, or how he seems genuinely put off by how Dante stresses the condition of the clock after getting stabbed in the shoulder shows how he cares for those around him, even if he doesn't show it all the time.

His first impression makes people think he's a stupid and uncaring brute, and so that is all that people think of him.

Don Quixote has a suprising amount of knowledge regarding distortions, a rather new phenomenon that LC themselves is studying due to just how unknown they are. She is quite insightful when it comes to the mental states of others as shown in canto III with her rather unorthodox method of calming down Sinclair. She seems to understand when her antics are and aren't needed, often stating quiet in the more serious scenes, but intervening when she can and genuinely believes it will help like with 5.5-1. Recently especially, she seems to be doing less of her impulsive heroics and has become less and less of a wildcard as things progress and has overall just mellowed out severely. Additionally, Don hasn't exactly shyed away from taking responsibility for her own actions, even when she meant well.

Her first impression makes people think she's impulsive, immature and with little understanding regarding consequences, and so that is all people think of her.

It's being written off. That's the core theme they both share. It doesn't matter how much they grow and change because in the end people will just ignore it, will only focus on first impressions and nothing else.

And by Carmen I hope the sinners and Dante learn to see them for who they are now, rather than when they were some strangers on the same bus.

OOOOOOOOH SUPER SUPER GOOD OBSERVATION. Honestly with how Canto V sets up for Dante being much more involved with the Sinners and Actually attempting to get to know them, specially with how Heathcliff feels like he's getting specially underminded by the rest of the groups in these recent events I can't help but feel it's set up intentionally so it will come back to bite when it's his turn proper, specially since so much of Heathcliff's trauma comes from being stereotyped and discarded which he briefly mentions when he breaks down and opens up slightly to Dante and Don Quixote during the Christmas even.

Honestly I hope for the same, specially since at least Yi Sang and Ishmael have come to appreciate and hold higher regard towards Heathcliff which you can see subtly in these latest episodes, I hope that dynamic will come forward as well

[joocin-thebox]

what if my g5 headcanons that will ultimately influence the story progression in my "rewrite" of mym?

under cut ofc because bitch we really get into it!!! (aka, long post)

i am one autistic bitch who feels let down my g5 in some aspects but mostly in a sense that it's just... missing some things!

disclaimer? i realy like g5. i come back to watch mym and tyt and the movie because it brings me joy and i like seeing the characters do things!

HOWEVER i personally feel like the story and writing is a bit... lack luster? im not sure if its because we're just missing so much information that's going to be explained later, or if the writers just... are struggling to piece together this lowkey mess of a situation our favs are in!

i just want to make sense of it all, and im a storyteller not a theorist so im not doing that theory stuff :) im just going to spew headcanons and be happy abt what i think could be implied by the writers that we dont actually get expansion on

[4/28/2024 edit] i drafted this way back in december '23 or jan '24 so some of these might seem "duh ofc! Thats canon!" but yeah, i just had it in the drafts for a loonngg time

now another disclaimer uhm,... when i "rewrite" mym im... not exactly going to remove key details? i think my intent is to include some things into each chapter that will make it a bit more digestible to all demographics? i like the sillies, i like the serious, and mym hits some really strong points that i think were executed perfectly! there are some things that are just spot on!

but again i just think mym is missing some elements and my headcanons are a result of that (obv bc thats what a headcanon is omg).

only big different in my rewrite will be opaline because her character is just... i dont know but i dont enjoy her. and i love villains. i am a villain enjoyer, and as many others have pointed out, she just randmly decides to be evil for the sake of being evil which sometimes i get it but before then it seemed like more than that? so im going to stick to "its more than that" and she has an actual solid goal in mind :)

this is more of an autistic revelation turned writing exercise so YAY let's see how this goes!

HEADCANON TIME!

i love sunny!! since the movie she's been such a cutie and one of my favorites! in tyt and mym however, they have a habit of watering down her character to "naive protag who has flimsy and unbased morals" and that doesnt really sit right with me? sooooo headcanons for sunny? (and some others but mainly ones that focus on sunny)

Sunny likes history as a way to connect with her dad, and she collects things she thinks he might have liked, and continues his research partially because of her own ideals of friendship and spreading it, but also because part of her thinks she has to carry on his legacy

Sunny and Zipp have a "likeminded, different methods" leader rivalry

Sunny and Pipp love to spa day together! They're also late risers, and love healthy meals and afternoon strolls

Sunny lets Pipp style her mane and tail ALL the time for inspiration because she likes the pampering a little and bc she wants to help Pipp

Sunny does her best to assist her friends with their jobs from time to time. Mostly because of her admiration of Twilight and her idea of friendship meaning spending time doing things your friends love to do

Sunny invites them to help her make new smoothie ideas too

Sometimes Sunny spends time in the observatory, reminiscing her memories with her father. Typically on anniversaries and holidays. It's her form of quiet time

Sunny doesn't actually like help when she's cooking, not unless shes genuinely biting off more than she can chew. She'd rather her friends share the space with her while she cooks, and maybe grab an item or two for her when her hooves are full

Sunny considered looking to study magic after getting her alicorn powers, (zipp definitely encouraged it) but Sunny decided against it because 'she doesn't need magic if she has her friends'

Sunny isn't actually good at helping her friends emotionally. Her love language is acts of service, so kind words are all she can really offer.

Canonically (comics), Sunny likes to read! I like to think she has her own book nook and really likes books that are about overcoming odds and happy endings

(Based on the movie) Sunny's most noticable character flaw is believing every choice she makes is justified. A “ends justifies the means” type of character. She grows out of this when she learns she can rely on others to find a solution.

When given no option to explore, Sunny is a theorist more than a researcher

She was NOT immune to propaganda (but she knows what she truly believes in)

Sunny acts without forethought, and when there’s a kink in her quick plan, she forces herself to stop and reevaluate. All the same, she's sensitive to failure.

She is also quite intuitive, with her theories (even though help crafted by her dad) tend to be correct in one way or another!

Sunny was reluctant to rebuild the lighthouse because part of her felt like, starting over meant forgetting her father (as it tends to go, with grief of a parent.) [Her friends help her come around and work with her to give her father's stuff a safe space in the brighthouse]

oh man that's a lot! NEXT!! (any hc i have following posting this will be reblogged to here!!)

I care so much about Zipp and the ways she can grow as a character. She was deep from the beginning but we never really got into more of her rather than her detective side. which i appreciate of course, but you know :)

Zipp is a natural leader (which in my rewrite i want to subtly emphasize this difference with Sunny learning to be a leader)

[Sunny and Zipp eventually would learn to work as a team, rather than one person having a more important say]

Zipp would be the one to teach Sunny what it means to lead, mostly indirectly, but sometimes directly

She leans away from leadership entirely and it causes a disconnect between her and her mother :(

She's drawn to puzzles and mysteries (especially in fiction) but prefers them in really fantastical settings

Zipp loves history, and views it as clues to her research about many things. If it's unrelated to current problem or doesn't have one on hand, she's not likely to read any history books

Zipp loves for Hitch to play detective with her. They snoop out clues together, and he helps her loosen up to solve the mystery faster as well as be more open minded

Zipp is wary of new ponies, and isn't quick to welcome anypony she doesn't know already or anypony not already dedicated to a cause (evidence: misty)

Zipp thinks Sunny studying magic and becoming more powerful would just be awesome to see

Zipp has a "problem" of being right all the time (sagittarius things)

After she gets ignored enough times about something she knows is true, she kind of just stops contributing to any conversation unless she has everypony's attention or if they're all out of ideas

She isn't a big fan of change? She prefers not to do new things all the time

But she LOVES a challenge!

Zipp is uncomfortable with being royalty in general. I assume she’d detach from the whole royalty thing entirely, and agree with Sunny’s ideals of democracy and equality to the point of stepping down as heir. Or she grows into her role, and becomes more and more queenlike each passing day

Zipp seems like the type to always be thinking, even during conversation. She isolates when things get too rough for her, and she's very quick to come up with schemes

Zipp is not good at lying. She avoids responses or tells half truths

She's an adrenaline chaser

Zipp starts out especially sarcastic toward Hitch because he's a sheriff and she thinks that's silly. Also because they have different ideas of leadership when they first meet.

Zipp (as well as Izzy and Sunny) love adventure!

i was so iffy on izzy when they introduced her in the show... i feel like she went from being an actual character with thoughts, to... watered down pinkie pie which is not enjoyable lol but anyways i like her actual moments of personality (not implying her lol XD random!! moments ARENT personality, but there are time where she's actually pushing it to the point of it being genuinely irritating with no comedic payoff :/

I BELIEVE IZZY HAS A PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMORY!! it just makes sense!! [she remembers in complete detail, or doesnt remember at all until way later]

Izzy would rather lighten the mood than make serious decisions :) She doesn't avoid action, but she does avoid sole leadership

to me, she's Brave and Direct and will step in if nopony else will. the type of character who isn't the hero, but will get the job done

Izzy in my mind is prone to going off on her own and not running ideas by ponies before acting which :) has its issues but comes in handy!

Along with Pipp and Hitch, Izzy LOVES nature! She teaches them both about Bridlewood's flora and fauna :) eventually they start having plants in the brighthouse and wanna explore all flora and fauna in the 3 locations

Izzy likes plants and is curious to what types of plants there are outside of bridlewood

Izzy learns some kind of multitasking spell, where she can create many things at once if she is making things in bulk :D

she does feel out of place in the friend group (canon to canterlot comic) and has a hard time making friends with the unicorns in other places :( [this is up until Misty, who makes her feel better]

Izzy sees Misty as a best friend :) But also takes on a silly older sister role with her!

She helps Misty grow into herself, and feel more secure with her past bebcause Izzy passes on her "damaged doesn't mean useless" ideals she usually saves for her unicycling

Izzy inspires Misty to use creation to get out her feelings, like making tea or exploring with crafts, just to find peace. She also helps Misty get out of her comfort zone in smaller ways, helping her try new things

When Izzy went looking for Maretime bay, Bridlewood just thought she went missing

Izzy wants close unicorn friends :( someone to genuinely bond with [see: Misty]

Izzy’s creativity comes from being really resourceful, BUT as a unicorn that lives in trees i’d imagine she’d have more respect for the trees of any kind LMAOO

she’s always got a solution to a problem even if unconventional or… surprising... but quick thinker!

Izzy loves to create things she can share with her friends (even when she has none, its the future thought that counts)

Izzy is the tallest out of the 5 of them? At least she’s taller than Pipp and Sunny

Izzy believes in Sunny way more than the rest of them do :) When Sunny has a plan, Izzy is ready to back her up!

now i see so many mixed opinions on pipp, but its mostly bc she's social media pony and i can't lie.... i tire of it... but pipp is great on her own! i dont think there's too much wrong with her, but at the same time i havent picked up much of her character and personality outside of social media (aside from this list ofc)

Bc her sister loves mystery and being a detective, Pipp lowkey has a spy hobby :) it started when they were kids, but it came back once they moved to Maretime bay

Pipp plans extravagant fake cases for Zipp every birthday :)

Pipp got her love of mystery (and by extension: horror / spooky) from her sister

Pipp does not have an interest in being any type of leader! she likes to inspire, but not lead :)

Pipp loves to glamp, and takes Hitch with her! Sometimes she camps with him to "embrace nature"

She likes to hear Sunny's spooky stories of the Everfree Forest

Pipp is a speed reader >:3 Any book she reads she just zooms through it

She's a great liar, for acting purposes but also just to save her hide.

Pipp can also be max sneaky, or by being the younger sib with no real duty to fulfill, its much easier for her to slip under the radar. Could be a reason she adores fame so badly and chases it harder than Zipp or Haven do

Pipp knows the city streets like the back of her hoof

She doesnt take Hitch’s title of sheriff very seriously unless she’s in Maretime bay

Pipp is VERY good at being a hype pony [ She was so happy to hype up sunny i ship pipp x sunny call that star petals ]

ill be so honest, hitch was my favorite from the beginning :D he's my favorite g5 pony ever, he's so cute and i love him to no ends!! i really liked seeing him stand up for what he believed in, and then when sunny was like "look, i told you" he didnt try to make any excuse why any pony kinds couldnt be friends :) he accepted it and was ready to help! i loved his moral code, you dont see a lot of lawful good characters this day and age (as far as ive seen)

BUT they did... do something to change his character in mym and tyt, taking away his love for order and replacing it with "stupid cop" gags and him being extremely silly. I miss his overconfidence and ego :( i dont think it should have left with the movie's end, it would have been so funny is he was still such a hardass

When Hitch gets stressed, he tries to alieve the situation and then calm down

Hitch is a scaredy cat

He has an overwhelming love for Maretime Bay, and typically likes to stay there if he can

Hitch liked not having magic so he doesn't actually use the new magic he gains

Hitch is loved by everyone in Maretime Bay, and he loves to protect him as much as he can, but he doesn't baby them

He makes jokes about a holiday about him where everyone cleans up litter around town, but insists its a joke

He gives good advice!

Hitch wanted to protect Sunny from being alone, and often protected her from bullies

Hitch doesn't put his friends above the law, and insists on fair punishment

After he gets Sparky, Hitch doesn't get to work out as much

Adding onto that, Hitch and Pipp bond over mane care

He's a realist, and knows that he can be wrong. But he'd rather the proof be shown first before he switches his ideals

Hitch is always open to listen

so called "free thinkers" when misty brightdawn is the best character in make your mark by far, solely because she feels (to me) like the only 3 dimensional character in the series :/ otherwise i just love her range and how silly she can be :) she feels real and fleshed out and obv she's just cute

Misty's special talent is actually inspiring change within herself and in other ponies, but whatever mym said is fine too

She's a jack of all trades after being made to be basically a maid of Opaline

She's got an excellent sense of direction

Misty got magic with everyone else, but bc of being in Opaline's castle, it was delayed, and weaker + Opaline forbade her from using it

Misty is more willing to confide in Sunny if prompted, because of all the times Sunny's protected her from pressure + Sunny is just a nice beacon of hope to talk to

Misty and Sunny bond over having to find their place in the world on their own due to absence of parent

Misty likes exploring creative outlets with Izzy

Misty hangs out with Sparky and Hitch n they're like a little family (blatant Histy shipping...)

Misty knows a lot about ancient artifacts

Misty (should) have her own room in the Brighthouse specifically for her, that only she and Zipp know about bc they both like quiet time

Misty and Opaline have a similar was of thinking after being together for so long (even though they weren't close)

Her moral code isnt cyrstal clear, due to her conflicted ideals after meeting the mane 5

She doesn't see Opaline as anything more than a faulty mentor and boss, but Opaline does provide for her so Misty is fine to stay

Misty and Izzy bond over basically being outcasts of Bridlewood (for different reasons)

Misty does not scare easy (vs Hitch who does, and Pipp who loves to be scared)

[cookinguptales]

wwdits tarot: the star

Time now for one of the most positive, sweet cards in the entire deck, which makes it a difficult one for the WWDITS-verse. :’)

It’s XVII. The Star!

The tarot deck is often conceptualized as a journey starting out as someone naive and inexperienced (The Fool) and finding completion at The World. So some of the cards have a vibe of progression to them.

The Star is definitely one of those cards. A lot of negative and/or difficult cards have been coming lately (Hanged Man, Death, Devil, Tower) and The Star very much gives you the vibe that you have finally come out on the other side. It’s a card of faith and hope and optimism, and it feels like a sigh of relief.

The Star is a card that generally indicates that you have gone through something terrible, but you have survived it. You are now feeling renewed and hopeful. It’s a card of inspiration and spirituality, and it really encourages you to follow your dreams now that you’re in a really good place.

It’s just… sweet, y’know?

Admittedly, sweetness is in kind of short supply in WWDITS. Most characters, when they are being kind, are only doing it reluctantly or with ulterior motives. Even Guillermo tends to have selfish reasoning more often than not, and his optimism is always tinged with desperation.

When I think about a character who just seems sweet and optimistic with their new lease on life… I gotta give it to Marwa, y’know? Like this card implies, she is always looking up at the sky in hope and wonder.

(RIP, pour one out for a real one, taken from us too soon, etc.)

Marwa, I think, has gone through two of the worst experiences a person can go through in this series: true death and being married to Nandor the Relentless. (I am only partially kidding.) But as bitter as she could be about her circumstances, Marwa actually seems to view her position with a lot of optimism. She’s happy to be alive again, and she’s excited to be in the modern world. She has faith, to some degree, that this relationship will work out with her husband, and she wants to return to her love of astronomy.

She certainly starts to doubt her relationship with Nandor more and more as the series progresses (and rightfully so) but even when she was truly considering calling the wedding off, she seemed to be approaching things intelligently and without sorrow.

(You have to do a lot of supposition with Marwa; we so rarely got to hear her true thoughts.)

It can be a little difficult to separate Marwa’s true passions from those that Nandor imposed upon her, but we do have some hints here and there. We know that she was very close with her parents, who allowed her to become a fairly distinguished scholar. We know that she was passionate about astronomy and the stars above.

So let’s focus on that.

I feel like astronomy is one of those intrinsically hopeful sciences. You have to look up at the sky above and see all of the magic in it, then you have to think — I want to know more about that. You have to want to reach up high and brush your fingers against ideas that humanity has only begun to consider.

Like — while Nandor was imagining a turtle, Marwa was considering the stars.

So I feel like it’s only proper that she get such a sweet, hopeful card and be put right up there with the celestial bodies she studied. It suits her bright personality, before it was dimmed, and her propensity to look upwards rather than down.

Now. Onto some imagery.

The RSW version of The Star portrays a nude woman beneath a sky full of stars. She is pouring water from both hands, one into a pool and one into the earth, nourishing it. She has one foot in the water and one on solid ground, symbolizing both her spiritual nature and her grounded one.

For Marwa, I think she can keep her clothes on. The nudity traditionally symbolizes purity, but I think she’s plenty pure all on her own.

In my version of The Star, Marwa still has two cups and stands in two worlds, but those worlds are that of humans and vampires. For her, both are the realm of the undead.

I think, then, that she should be pouring blood back into its own pool — but the other jug should be emptying upward. Not down toward the earth but up toward the sky. And it shouldn’t be blood, but fire going up into the atmosphere to become stars above her.

For all her sweetness, Marwa has a unique fire to her. She doesn’t give up when other wives do, and she always makes the best of her shitty situations. So I think instead of nourishing water, that’s what suits her best. Blood and fire.

Man. She deserved so much better.

wwdits tarot masterpost

[gayle-blythe]

Tanner’s Account part 4

~Original Story~

I sat for a while and watched. Still not realizing how odd it was, I decided I wanted to catch one, just as I would any other firefly. Though, seeing as I was still quite debilitated, instead of running around, swinging my arms and clapping my hands, I decided to stay sitting, hold out my hand, and hope one came to me.

I extended my hand, palm up, and waited. I watched them float and bob. The fire let out a dying pop, the only sound now other than the wind occasionally blowing through the stalks. The chill burned my skin. Then suddenly, I felt a weight at the tip of my finger. I slowly brought my hand closer to my face to get a better look at this bug. While the waning fire provided little light, I was able to make out some details between the moonlight and the bug's own flashes. I immediately noticed it was plump and round like a grape, which made the dragonfly-like wings on its back look out of place. As it flashed, it's whole body lit, aside from the head and wings, now allowing me to make out its general shape as well as the shape of its exoskeleton. It's plump body looked more like a grub than any flying insect and it's exoskeleton only ran across where a spine would be, wrapping slightly down forming arches along its body.

While studying this bug, this beauty and freak of nature, the rest of them had been floating closer and closer. As they neared I realized a bright red glow began to overtake me and the ground around me. There were so many of them that the light was solid, never flickering.

And then, I noticed I wasn’t cold anymore.

My finger, under the bug, under the glow, was warm! It was generating heat. Then another landed next to the first and lit as well. Then a third followed as well. It was hot. I looked and I saw more coming already feeling the warmth of their glow. The fog over my mind cleared slightly as my amusement and amazement slowly began to be overtaken by the sinking feeling of dread. I pulled my hand back, but the creatures on me didn’t stir. A light flick of the wrist also provided no result. I stood and it was then as I was frantically shaking my whole arm, it was clear they were securely latched onto my hand.

Around me, I could hear them. Along with the buzzing of their wings I could hear a popping and sizzling like bacon frying in its grease. I sound and the heat slowly grew louder and warmer as the lazily bobbed towards me. I stumbled backwards, almost tripping over my chair, as I moved away from them. I was now only beginning to make progress with those already on me by physically peeling them off with my other hand. Though the light was still dim, as I got them off I could see their twig-like legs flailing, trying to grab ahold of me once again. Fear now beginning to bubble into panic, I flick the second to the ground as I start towards the house. Grabbing ahold of the third bug clutching to the base of my index, I immediately notice it’s hold is much stronger than the other two. Checking over my shoulder every few second, seeing the swarm growing closer, I pinched the thing between my index and thumb. I wedge my nails under as much as I can and squeeze. The exoskeleton of the bug made it sturdy, but I could still feel it’s structure give slightly under my grip. Pulling and twisting and wedging, it gave no purchase. I let out a quick breath as I squeeze it harder, only intending to tighten my grip and persuade it to let go.

To my surprise, that did not happen.

Suddenly, and to my disgust, the bug popped. It’s spine and ribs cracked under the pressure and it squelched as it’s insides became it’s outsides. But along with the shock and disgust of this creatures guts on my hand, there was also a sudden shock of pain. The best of the big was suddenly amplified as it burned my hand, as if the skin of this thing worked as some kind of insulator and now I was suddenly feeling it’s true heat. Cursing and flicking the viscera off my hand I glanced at the swarm once again. Something had changed. Where before they were calmly bobbing and floating about, it seemed like they were beginning to speed up, darting back and forth between each other. Panicking and not wanting them to get any closer, I turned around and took off towards the house. At first the buzzing and popping got quieter, but after a few seconds it steadied, then grew louder again. Shooting a glance back, I saw them catching up FAST. I wasn’t too far from the door now but feeling their beat on my back, I wasn’t sure I’d make it. Almost tripping over the steps of the back porch, I lunged at the door, flinging it open and throwing myself inside. I lay there, catching my breath, safe.

As my heartbeat slowed and my breathing steadied, I wonder what just happened. What we’re those things. I didn’t dare to look and try to figure it out. Choosing to try and forget, the rest of the night passed without note. I found some of the guys passed out on the couch and floor in the living room. I found a spare quilt and curled up in the corner. The next morning, early, just as the darkness was beginning to flee, I asked the other guys why they had left me outside. They told me they didn’t even notice I was gone, that they went inside to play some fighting games before they passed out. They asked if I was ok, then began making plans to get some breakfast. Walking out, towards the kitchen, I wondered if it was just a weird dream. I decided to try and just forget.

But the blisters forming on my hand didn’t do much to help.

[yutzen]

Just Prime

(another non-main crew prompt fic, with prompt provided by Making Up Monsters. This one is admittedly bizarre)

Monster who's not a ten, but also not a five. A solid, nicely round seven.

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

"So far, so good. This little team of so-called rejects I've gathered has given me results, and in these terribly uncertain times that's all I can ask for. The real question is whether it will be enough results to sate my newfound wardens. So far so good, but that's with great emphasis on 'so far'."

The sound of pen upon paper came to an end, replaced by a brassy hum - which was followed by a long and forlorn sigh.

In the flickering candlelight, the fuzz-framed face of something very much like a cyan-furred moth could be seen in darkness, and even in their lidless eyes - reflecting hundreds of pinprick-sized flames - their annoyance was visible. "What do you want now?", their whispery voice asked to the murk behind their wings.

The Nirhaq tried not to wince when a single hand was laid upon their collar, a hand with four long and thin digits ending in perfect points. They didn't need to glance back and see the intruder looming in to know exactly who it was. The faintest hint of a deep, violet cloak - one tesselated with triangular and quadrilateral patterns alike - drifted into the corner of their vision, and that was all the confirmation they needed. Yet the voice that followed settled it, a ringing declaration that seemed to come from the very walls rather than the figure behind them: "Agent Felmyzhunn. The Chalk Sage wanted to see the progress in your current work".

"In these quieter hours I need to remind myself that I've been lucky. As far as failures to crack the Vaults go, I certainly got a little fortunate. As far as sudden, unwanted meetings face-to-face with the bloody Chalk Sage go, I may be the single luckiest of all. But as far as escapes from the Vaults go, or raids of their particular knowledge like the one I attempted, or even just uninvited visits to the Tower... I could've been far luckier. There's so many out there, within the Hives and outside them, that didn't end up saddled with a construct as problematic as this one - in far more senses of the word than I'd prefer." "Ironic, really. Some of the Bannerbound clans do consider their total number lucky. I wonder if that's why my warden tries so much to look like one."

A click preceded the moth's next few words, with a singular fuzzy limb pointing a pen into the dark. "You can see most of those results in the workshop, if you had bothered to pass by it on the way to my study. But you had to be thorough, I'm sure." A shake of their head scattered tiny scales all over their desk. "Well, I can give you thorough: All the assorted good and plenty you've asked for is either gathered there, or on the way here in an unmarked crate, hidden among a book shipment. I've kept perfect track, and I can show you the math; I know you and your boss love that."

The feeling of those pointed fingers on their collar vanished... or rather, flickered, returning within moments as the one behind them became just a little more visible: The all-encompassing cloak, those elongated fingers that didn't seem to have actual joints... And the face beneath the hood. Easily mistaken for a Bannerbound thanks to their glowing indigo eyes - and their abundance and distribution didn't hurt, either. An odd number of eyes wasn't unheard of for them; three in a line with two above and below each edgemost light was perhaps too symmetrical, but not too odd.

Yet the obsidian head that held them - with a kite shape as the face and six triangles to complete the rest - would be much harder to explain. And the voice that rang out, one that sounded like the very room had become a bell, would be a dealbraker: "I have certified it. Your progress, collectively, is acceptable. However, the matter of you remains. Have they become aware of who you are?"

The moth groaned in response, rubbing the sides of their fluffy head with their graspers. They sounded slighted by the question while they answered it: "They know me as five different people, so no. Their boss has seen me as only three of those, in fact. So the misdirections are all in place as usual - that's my specialty, remember?" Antennae flicked in the air, and wings flapped in irritation, scattering dust... But their colors remained utterly dull, coal-black and without any patterns nor glyphs upon them. Why bother, before a creature(?) that saw right through it? Why try the Bellbound's tricks on someone as detached from linguistics as this one?

They then snapped themselves out of that thought to add a few muttered words. "That was rhetorical, before you say anything. You know it is my specialty, one of the reasons why you're here to begin with."

"As far as I'm aware, the creature I'm burdened with has more in common with an abstract musing, or the clicks of a calculator machine, than with anything that breathes. One of the Chalk Sage's little tricks I'm sure, bringing something like this to life (in a manner of speaking). A walking hovering conundrum with a solid conceptual base around which everything else gravitates. An unsolved equation that they've tasked me with, and it will keep tasking me until it's solved - presumably, with a process and final answer that the angular bastard approves of."

Another flicker of the figure behind them, now coupled with the distant shuffling of items - mostly paper - all over the abode, and the room-rattling voice buzzed his ears again. "I have certified this to the best of my ability. This adds up correctly. Therefore, the matter of your next steps remains. You must be made aware of them if you aren't, and be reminded of such if you've forgotten them." Lord below, even if it didn't even rattle the windows or any of their cups, it sure felt like it was going to bring this place down. And again they felt digits upon their fuzzy collar: Three on one side, four on the other. Pointed and perfectly smooth...

And they shrugged them off, practically climbing onto the desk to avoid the entity's touch. They refused to look at the intruder in the eye, yet couldn't help but turn their head towards them just for their voice to be heard in its aggravated entirety. "How exactly do you expect me to forget the rest of your plan, when your maker took steps to practically burn it into my mind? Damn near made it a fundamental factor of my life - maybe literally! Narrowed me down to a line in a blackboard where a letter is this whole arrangement. I know how they work."

Yet the intruder didn't even twitch. They only brought back that damned brassy voice that drowned out all thought. "Your awareness of the process is a concern. In knowing it, you may interfere. In your knowledge of cognitive linguistics, you may have dictated unknown terms to yourself, and with them detached your mind from the task. I will not permit this, and must ergo confirm it has not been attempted. Please remain still."

And those digits all planted themselves onto their body again, sinking through the fuzz to reach the chitin beneath. The singular second that followed was utterly unpleasant, one of the deepest violations of privacy they could conceive.

"But it isn't just math, clearly. That's too raw to be brought in like this beyond one of that one's usual instantaneous tricks. This is a a thinking entity, and thus a manner of thought had to be put in there. Knowing a little of how those esoteric mathematics work, a little bit of symbolism had to go in there, something with some subjectivity. A thoroughly comprehensible core at the bottom of it all, that can have more meanings than just its simple mathematical value." "And so, I've come to understand the base of this entity, the very base of the equation it represents, the bottom that forms the depths of the X (though not the whole, because then I'd be free), is a singular, one-digit number. " "By all the hints I've had, I've narrowed it down to seven."

"Your adherence has been certified." Thank goodness for that, the Nirhaq thought as their mind stopped reeling from the intrusion and those damn fingers pulled away from their fluff. They thought about yelling, calling it out on personal space, but after a hard grip that threatened to crack their pencil, desisted. What would a being like this know about privacy?

Still, they offered the biggest snub they could by turning back to their writing, talking to the darkness rather than to the being's face as the sounds of scribbling returned. "Anything else you need to metaphysically manhandle me for? Or are you done checking on me, and will actually let me do my job? You and I both know we've got a strict time table, and that your very presence here is an interference. I know, you're going to call it irrational - tough luck, I'm what you've got."

"More than once I've wondered: Why seven, of all numbers? A ten would've been perhaps more powerful, and certainly more imposing. A one is something I would've never evaded, simple as it'd be. And some horrendous prime number making a mess of any equation, that would've been the doom of me if I had tried working through this in any other way. Or would it?" "As I thought more about it, however, I've had my realizations. A ten is too simple, as would be a one, I would push right through even with their great subjective meaning. A three or four digit prime I would've pushed right through, because such numbers are so unheard of they hardly mean anything, even to an experienced mathematician. Something else would've been more proper."

Again the room was rung like a bell - or so Fel's perception would say, they still hadn't figured out how much of that was real. "This is correct. The report is complete, and for the most part satisfactory. But the matter of their inquisitiveness remains. You have chosen effective but dangerous proxies, and you will need to either temper or misdirect their curiosity before they find who you are, or your link to the Chalk Sage."

They could only groan in response, at first. "Don't you think I know that already? You never get good results with fools, so you have to play it dangerous, as I always have. Believe me, them not finding out what I am, let alone who, is in all of our interests. I'm working on that, taking active steps, you'll see those soon enough if you just let me take them." They finished with a dismissive wave of their empty grasper, towards the distance. "Now shoo."

A flicker, and the intruder was gone. Neither cloak nor polygon were there to reflect the candlelight... In part, because with its sudden departure, said candle had gone out.

"And it came to me, after pondering that most of the math done by folks is on the lower end, in head and paper, and oft with at least one number below ten - and so those numbers would pack the most thought-borne heft. Five and ten, despite their size, are simple, far too much of a base - the Chalk Sage wanted to impose something complex on me that I couldn't wiggle through with ease, forced to follow their steps. Yet eight and nine can be decomposed to threes and twos with ease, so they could hardly count." "Seven, however, is a deceptive prime, low enough to underestimate yet high enough to be bothersome in such napkin mathematics. Even those with quick heads for math can be tripped up or bogged down by a stray seven, unable to separate it into neater multiplications. Not to mention a genuine bother to divide with, one very good way to start getting complicated number strings. Even its additions have their little surprises if you rush through things." "And therein the thing. That is why it's a seven. A number all are familiar with, that some cultures even assign meaning to, in the perfect decimal sweet spot to trip me up, as I metaphorically try to solve the equation throughout any path that isn't the one the Chalk Sage has laid out before me. It's almost diabolical, really. But I wouldn't expect anything less when it comes to ideas brewed in the shiny black sphere that one calls a head."

Felmyzhunn sighed, and searched for their lighter under the desk. "Even in this they all have to be so difficult", they muttered throughout their rummaging. Finding the flinty little thing quickly enough, the moth brought back the light and continued to write upon the journal on their desk...

With florid, twisty calligraphy, the Hivetongue words blending together with each other until parsing them was a puzzle. Less of a journal page and more of abstract art where each brushstroke was a singular word, curving and cursive, spread throughout the paper. Not the greatest cypher against most spies Fel knew, even if it would stall them for some time, but perfect against a being of order and logic, that would parse normal writing in a millisecond.

The moth's wings flicked in place now that they were alone, and slowly, over several seconds glowing azure glyphs manifested upon them, filling the air with glimmering blue scales... And in the blink of an eye that wasn't there, to any such partial onlooker that might've cracked the code, those glyphs were gone, as were the wings, and the very moth that bore them. Instead, hunched over the exact same desk with the exact same pen in their slimy hand, an azure Ifchi with drooping cyan gills continued with the exact same sentence the moth had started. Or at least, so it would seem.

"Alright Fel", the axolotl spoke to themselves (or perhaps himself right now), "let's pull this off. Next step: A dead drop for the bat. She does need to know her catch arrived safely anyhow."

"Still, I will figure something out, towards a path I like better. And maybe that this lot likes better. It's going to be difficult, and it will probably bring some stumbles, thanks to the nature of my warden. But I need to persevere. I'm not going to be free until I've pushed through to the end, or until I've been dragged to the end of the Sage's path instead because I failed, which I hope I won't." "And I'm quite sure I won't. In the end, when you look at it, mathematics are just another language, and like any other, I will speak it as fluently as I must. As the Bellbound do."

[quillheel]

@tenebriism // sophie & howl!

her nature, to care, to wait, had lived in her long before she stepped foot into this castle. But it was the stubborn, sincere will that guides her now, true-minded, developed like a skill. darning needle, embroidery thread in so unreasonable fabric, task turned over again and again until she knows the motions even when she doesn't : the roots of them, the little sparkling parts that really matter : which is to say — she'd know this bit by heart now.

at least, some broad and smooth part of her heart, now. written on it in shining ink. she's sure of it. she'd be proud to say how she wasn't gifted it, like her sisters had been in all the other ways she still underestimates and underwhelms herself over, but instead to say it was practiced, and learned, and sincere beyond sincere in those interwoven laces. What it takes to progress, what it takes to experience

She couldn't say she'd find herself caring about such things as beauty as she once had, no, not in a long time now. Unlike...

" Are you really still on about that? " the chime, not unkind but rather a sort of flat-footed tone she takes when she's unbothered or perhaps only feigning it to tease him, hails from close to his bedside, as she reaches up, up to some bottles hiding in the back of a shelf almost covered in his knickknacks and all those shining things; careful despite, the way she is undeterred even as her back protests, eyes glancing down to him only briefly ( a moments study, but she hears more in his voice alone. ) and her fingers find the neck of a vial as she speaks, " You know, I still think black is a nice look for you. Being blonde isn't as nice as you'd think it is! Though, if it's different with magic than naturally, I'm afraid... "

she sees the tremor in his throat, the hard rattle of his body tensing, the tendons of the neck & the shiver of his shoulders & his sharp breath pushed out, that moment just before his coughing fit, and she's down from her stool in one step backwards unto solid ground between the clutter and the plates resting 'pon the hardwood with nowhere else to put them, tea resting on his end-table — she's got a hand on him then, first pulling at his shoulder to shift him unto his flank, then sliding down, gingerly, to the side of his neck. her fingers covered by wefts of dark hair, rubbing soft soothing circles into the tender skin, gracing the nape of his neck...

she can't help but note the ash that sputters from him, tangled in saliva or out on the air in thin wisps, and something in her churns, nervous... a budding worry, to see an omen but not it's cause. no, no, not yet... but, the ash she'd seen, the marketplace... Come on Sophie, focus now, gentle...

" Shh... Easy, Howl... you know that's not true... " her answer is ever so softer than the one prior, aged fingertips still messaging as she speaks, his soft hair resting over her knuckles as she does. in her other hand, the vial, which she examines carefully... she could never truly hope to know everything in this place, what it did and could do, much less what was in it, but she'd gotten better of feeling out which to be which after the bath incident; something in the consistency, in the shimmer, in the swirl, in the hold of it... her attention never strays from him for long, even if all she has to spare is her voice, as croaking as she knows it to be now. ( she's half-certain Howl loves the sound of a voice, even if he doesn't answer to it. the noise of people's speaking. she doesn't find her own all that pleasant, but a distraction might be kind to him, now... )

" If I had it my way, I'd already have gotten Markl to try his hand at making something to at least soothe your chest! surely I doubt he'd be able to make that cough any worse. or, better yet, find something myself, but... " 'But I don't want to be apart from you. I don't want you to feel as alone as oftentimes, I think you do. I know it to be fleeting, even if you should know I'll come back. The worry, there. I don't want you to convince yourself that you are being proven right...'

— ... all she gives a vague little shrug, and her hand slides from the back & side of his neck to closer toward his shoulder, perhaps a means of holding him in place, as she sets the vial down, and one-handedly works at a gnarled bundle of old herbs ( ginger, mint, chamomile... ), plucking and pinching off the stubborn leaves and long-dried flowers in a hope, quietly, that they might help if she found the just right way to use them. More familiar than the vials and elixirs and concoctions surrounding her at every side... ( She's grateful they're not rotted, by how long they must have been here for... ) —— " Ah, well, maybe later. Can you be good and tell me what's wrong, then...? I hear the cough, but what about a fever? " she briefly considers the idea that she doesn't actually know if wizards can get fevers, at least as intensely as the unmagical, but she chooses to ignore such thoughts as she raises a hand and touches it to his forehead, seeking, attentive...

surely, were there any other injuries, she would find them... ( so rarely does the fire that cause such smog leave only it's ash as a keepsake to the injured... )

[shopboughtchaos]

CamberlyRamblings - Character study: Aubrey Roberts - Chapter 2

Part two of who knows of this "short" character study that's growing so many various limbs. Anyway, more of the same PTSD related CW's as chapter one. But now with added: (failing to) process a death, and has all the "oh yeah, this is a rambly first draft mess" to contend with. So, with no further ado:

Lance-corporal George Vickers died a week later; heart attack. The doctors gave some guff about a weak heart exasperated by his night terrors, but Roberts didn’t need medical pontificating to know Vickers’ demons won that fight. The news had come as a shock. Vickers had seemed to be making good progress over the last few days, since the hermit’s gift. Roberts had taken that little sprig of dog-rose in during those days between Vickers’ death and the clearing of his room to make way for the next broken solider, even before the funeral, damn them.

The blasted thing had started sprouting roots and would soon be ready for soil, that bud slowly opening as it grew and thrived in its little jug of water on the windowsill. No wonder it grew everywhere here, if it would vie for life, even once severed, in so short a span of time. Maybe that sort of thought had been a comfort to Vickers by the end, if one were to be so romantically inclined. Though he clung to that more optimistic thinking, taking all its false edges and shaping it until it almost fit in place of despair, Roberts could not quite convince himself he was that romantic in nature. Correlation could not be relied on to be indicative of anything more than random chance - and perhaps the reminder hadn’t been the any extrapolated metaphor from the flower itself, but the knowledge that it signified that someone had heard Vickers, and cared, and wished to show it - even in a trite manner. Wished to give some proof that Vickers wasn’t alone. Lord knew feeling alone was the worst of it. It was better than the alternative. After all, if Vickers with his improvements could loose to his devils after all, what hope had any of the other men here? The other men agreed - with both the hope and the despair - when they dared to discuss it, just shy of Matron’s hearing. Pertleigh, a square-looking fellow, as if God made him entirely out of cubes, with a back that looked strong enough to squash Robert’s face between his shoulder-blades - if ever it was likely Pertleigh would let another man get that close - had become more animated in Vicker’s absence. “I can’t abide the sound of men screaming,” he’d said one night. “It reminds me of… of, well - you know. It sets a man’s own nerves on edge, doesn’t it?” Perhaps, without that most inescapable nightly reminder, Pertleigh would recover enough to leave this place and find his own quiet spot to retire in. Find himself a wife, maybe start a family - learn the shrieks of children that come from laughter instead. It was a bold dream. And a lie. The army didn’t care one whit about the soldiers for their own sake or their dreams of retirement. The army didn’t care enough to fix something it could not use. These men had signed up to serve the country and after the deficit of men only twenty years before, none of these soldiers would be so easily let go. They were to be fixed enough to return to war, and anyone who believed otherwise was deluded. Hell, even Pertleigh knew it. But every man here had to hold to a delusion as an anchor against the weight of the truth. Roberts wasn’t about to dismantle this one when it did so little harm. There was harm enough to go round, in little ways, already. Vickers’ family couldn’t travel to collect his body, and so his belongings were posted off north to his mother and the man himself was laid to rest without much pomp or ceremony in the local churchyard. The small service was full of well rehearsed platitudes from strangers for a man they’d never known. Marched down to the church with the rest of the patients like boys on a school trip, Matron at the front with the doctor, Nurse Bridget walking demurely towards the back of the group to keep any of the men from straying.

Even the other patients hadn’t known Vickers well enough to really add a few words. It was a lonely send off, with a demoralising effect on too many of the men. Some few villagers showed up too, mostly those that worked at Camberly House itself in some fashion, including the hermit, Loval. Roberts caught sight of him oh his march back to the House after the service. The hermit stood by the remains of the churchyard fence, the iron stripped away for the war effort to leave odd waist height walls full of divots in the stone. He stood alone, looking into the graveyard, a black umbrella keeping the summer rain from him. He wore all black; slim trousers and a black woollen coat - double breasted - that came to his knees. His bowler hat dipped with his bowed head, obscuring his face. So much so that for a moment, Roberts wondered if he was hallucinating Vickers’ black devil figure. Then the hermit looked up and there was no mistaking that long face, even from a distance, not on that frame. He nodded at the party before wandering into town. He did not have to attend, and perhaps that was why he had stayed at the edges, not even crossing the church boundary, but Mr. Loval had come to see Vickers laid to rest all the same. Yes, at least Vickers had reason not to feel alone at the end. Lord truly knew that feeling alone was the worst of it. If he followed Vickers, Roberts’ parents would not collect him - even if they could travel - but the churchyard here was pleasant enough; the graves well tended with some almost artfully overgrown with that Camberly rose. And he didn’t need anyone to say much about him, anyway. It could be a pleasant rest, when the time came. Not that Roberts intended to let his devils take him without a fight, even if the battle was doomed. It wasn’t often anyone called Roberts stubborn - except his father, once - but he was broken, not despondent. The devils in his head could wait their turn. To their credit, the nurses were doing their best delay the inevitable. Without Vickers’ extreme terrors to take most of their attention, they had more time for chasing up their other patients, meaning Roberts’ chances at freedom of his own choosing were harder to take, and the four walls of his room - of the house - were beginning to close in on him. That made other things much harder to fight, waking in the morning covered in bruises from the furniture in his way - his nails worn down to the quick, and long marks against the locked door and the wooden walls. They’d boarded over his windows in case he went for the glass in his sleep and bled out. They removed mirrors entirely at lights-out, only returning them to let him wash and shave with some dignity in the mornings. It didn’t take much to worm out that the betting pool between the men had odds on him being next in line. A sobering thought, and all the more reason to prove the bastards wrong and push back against his urge to keep running. All he needed was some fresh air and space to think, or not. No, he needed the choice between fresh air and imprisonment, for there was still much comfort to be taken in being left alone in his room, as long as it was choice to be there. Without that choice, he was a true prisoner, and that was what made the sense of constraint all the harder to bear. He took his chance two weeks after Vickers’ funeral, when the nurses were busy prepping for the new arrival, and Matron herself had left the house to greet him. Getting to the roof was easier this time, from both his own experience and having watched the hermit make it look effortless. Roberts had always been a fast learner. The sun was tempered by the hazy grey clouds of an English summer, as if the light had been warned not to be so dazzling again. That steadfast commitment to bleakness. Perhaps this time, it would not cause such a distraction by giving the trees more presence than they deserved.

Pigeons took flight around him, their wings whistling as something began banging from behind him, metal on metal, rhythm but not melodic. Roberts turned, pressed against his piece of roof to look over the crest. The roof ran into a gully where the hermit was on his hands and knees, bowler hat tossed aside and his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing sparse dark hair on his forearms. The light, such as it was, caught on nails he carried in his mouth as he struck at the tiles with a hammer, securing loose ones back down, tapping the lead plate into place. Roberts sunk back to his precarious nook. He should sneak back inside before the hermit reported his transgression to Matron. Better not to risk souring that tolerance that had allowed him here once before. Better not to risk being locked down any more than he already was. “Private Roberts, I thought that was you.” Roberts looked up, Loval was leaning over from his side of the roof. He shielded his face from the light, so it was hard to tell his expression, but he lounged as if at ease. “I was fairly certain I locked that balconette behind me,” Loval said, shifting to show he didn’t look irked, at least. “I should be more careful. No idea what other doors might suddenly spring open.” “You did say this house was open for us,” Roberts said. “I did, Which is why I count this as a pleasant surprise,” Loval said, easing himself backwards slightly. “I’d been wondering how you were getting on after the death of your companion. Terrible business.” “Yes, it was,” Roberts said, unsure what else he was meant to add. “I’m sorry, none of us knew Vickers very well.” Loval pulled a face Roberts couldn’t quite read. “Ah, I had thought it was a different kind of set up. Alice has always made it sound like you’re a rather tight knit group.” “Alice?” “Your Matron. How long have you been here, Private Roberts?” “Almost four months now, I believe.” “And you don’t know the names of the people looking after you?” The hermit kept his tone neutral, if anything, appearing almost quizzical, as if the idea needed examining from all sides. Roberts held his ground. “I tend to keep to my own company, Mr. Loval. One should think you are familiar with the concept.” It was sharper than intended, and for what, because the man had asked a question? Had pointed out a flaw in Roberts character? “I mean no disrespect - quite the opposite - I know people have been calling me The Hermit for many years. But, I choose to live by myself, not live alone. The thought of not knowing who is around me is an odd one to consider.” “And meaning no disrespect, I don’t know any man in this place everyone pretends is a hospital has a story he wishes to share, and so, what is the point of asking after them, or any one else? As Vickers proves, we’re all on borrowed time here. There is nothing noble in spreading pain around - be that stories or giving someone something to miss when the demons win.” Roberts was on his feet and trembling, the pale echo of a cold night-sweat brewing as he realised his voice was carrying far louder than civil conversation required. Mr. Loval stayed frozen in place until Roberts began to un-clench and relax. Tonight would be bad, now even that was out the threadbare bag that held his emotions, no getting it back in. The pointlessness of it all. “I’m sorry, Mr. Loval. I did not mean to disturb you from your work.” The hermit brushed the apology off. “No, I’ve disturbed you. Though I regret the roof can’t wait. Say, if you don’t mind lending a hand, I can be out of your way sooner?” “I’m not a roofer.” “Neither am I, but the roof only cares that someone stops it leaking and there’s no one else but me here now, and I could use a hand, if one is willing.” It beat dwelling in his own mind, Roberts had come here to escape that, after all. He shrugged, and clambered over the crest of the roof, sliding into the gully. Mr Loval steadied him and offered him the chance to hold, or beat things into place.

Roberts took the hammer and, under brief guidance; Loval’s thin fingers pointing where to strike - and how hard - began to fix the roof. The work wasn’t hard of itself, any man without injury could swing a hammer, but the repetition and the awkward angles he held to get the best angles, and the summer heat, even without the direct sunlight, left him exhausted in only a few short hours - long enough for the sound of Matron’s car making its way up the twisty, narrow, road back to Camberly House to echo around the quiet grounds. “Ah, shit,” Roberts said, leaning back to wipe the sweat from his face. “I should get back before Matron notices I’m missing. I’m pretty sure a woman like that could summon Satan and have him on his best behaviour with little more than a glance.” Loval snorted. “That’s just the face she puts on to get the job done. Stay out her as long as you like, Private Roberts. Alice may be formidable but if she gives you any grief tell her I requested help for the upkeep of the house. It’s in their contract that the ministry of defence will provide people to maintain the place while they rent it out.” Roberts stretched out his back, and watched a bird hop between the chimney pots atop the breast, throwing twigs down before flying away to find more. “Really?” Loval nodded, following what Roberts was looking at, and pulled out a little notebook and pencil, noting something down. Probably that he’d need a sweep next. Unless he did it himself, he was thin enough to go up the chute, surely. The thought of the lean Mr. Loval covered in soot - and where the patches of skin might be when he stripped to bathe it off came unbidden, and unwanted, and Roberts closed his eyes against the thought. Four months in a house full of lonely men, and so carefully guarded he daren’t even fantasise, that thoughts were now creeping in from all sides about any man, even scrawny beanpoles like Loval. “Somehow we’re just a little too out of the way to ever get anyone.” Loval said, bringing Roberts back to reality with a welcome crash. “Bullshit really, the system’s rigged. It’s why they keep telling everyone to make do and stand alone. Don’t trust your neighbours, barely even trust yourself - and somehow that’ll see you right, chaps. Still, I’ll fight alone to keep this old girl standing as long as I live.” “Ah,” Roberts said. “You’re a pacifist. That’s why you aren’t enlisted.” At that, Loval laughed - a deep, rich, thing that echoed from the rooftops and startled more birds from their hiding places amidst the chimneys. It was a nice laugh, even if it came from a coward. “Oh, that is a loaded word, Private Roberts,” he said once he calmed down. “And I know what you mean by it in all ways. But, I will admit the imperial war machine has never made much sense to me, and in that regard I will claim pacifism, but not the subtext of cowardice. I recognise why we fight, despite smelling the propaganda all the way from London. Evil actions perpetrated by evil people - from our own as much as from any designated Other - should always be resisted by whatever measures they make necessary, as long as they are resisted.” It made little point in arguing why the hermit lacked nuance. The army greens Roberts wore spoke enough of the truth - and this civilian had never seen the things Roberts had - the reasons why he had been shipped to nowhere to recover. Evil actions perpetrated by evil people should always be resisted, and sometimes that resistance was not something one man alone could cope with. At least Roberts had done something more than Loval had. But, he was also too exhausted to make a fuss of it now - he had not been this involved in anything for too many months and all he wanted was a hot bath and a brandy and some music on the old record player and the hope to slip into a dreamless sleep until the morning.

“Then if it is not a deficit of courage, why didn’t you enlist?” “I’m medically exempt. I have a condition - a weakness around blood. Entirely embarrassing, I faint clean away at the sight of it. Apparently that is something of an occupational hazard around battlefields. So, I don’t impede the Home Guard if they’re in the area, and count that as my contribution instead. As is my offering Camberly House to men like you, Private.” “A strange contribution.” “Perhaps,” Loval said. “I have my reasoning, but I suspect it will sound ridiculous, and risk being poorly received, and I have already caused enough insult today.” “Well then, allow me to get the full measure of your mind, and use it to determine if continued insult means this should perhaps be our last meeting.” “Because they have been planned so elegantly,” Loval said, but he smiled as he said it, and coward or not, it was easy to see where that lively laugh had come from. And he did seem to want to talk to Roberts and hear what the solider had to say. Would indulging that truly be a poor thing? “As you said earlier, there is no point in spreading pain around. If offering my home could aid even just one person after the experiences they are subjected to, I have to make the attempt. Perhaps that is as much a weakness as my fragility around blood, but I am at as much a loss to be rid of it as the other.” That sprig of rose for Vickers, a man Loval had never met - just because the man screamed, and the way Loval had turned up for the service after Vickers died. Loval truly believed what he said, and acted on those beliefs. Roberts leaned against the tiles, feeling the warmth through his damp shirt and sighed. “Mr. Loval, I have the sinking feeling that you are a both an insufferable optimist and an indefatigable idealist.” Loval gave another of those rich laughs and Roberts felt the corners of his own mouth rise as if to match. “Private Roberts, it has been a long time since anyone has paid me a compliment like that, let alone two in such rapid succession. A man so starved for recognition as I am may take such things as a sign of impending friendship.” “Good lord, man. That might be taking optimism and idealism too far. We’re English, after all.” This time, when Loval laughed again, Roberts joined in.

[spoonsforminutes]

It should not be this way, but unfortunately it is. Until the whole healthcare system undergoes a complete reconstruction of how we view health, illness, and disability, few people will advocate for you. This doesn’t always come from a place of malice; the lack of education to the general public about disability and illness hurts everyone, but right now it’s hurting disabled people the most.

Becoming your own advocate is fucking hard and takes so much trial and error. From continuously bouncing around to different doctors to trying to even get an accurate diagnosis, everything is frustrating and confusing, and it’s okay to take a while to feel solid in your health and your body. I do understand that doctors often dismiss patient input or self-research, but i offer some advice. If you have access to any academic database or even can access free articles, that’s your best place to not only learn about what the fuck is actually happening to your body (because personally medical research is better than healthcare but only slightly), but also to limit the ableism of doctors who believe a degree puts them in a place of authority, even when they are clueless or downright wrong about your health. Published studies allow you to level the playing field a little because you’re essentially raising yourself to the level of a peer. Power dynamics and shitty people might still complicate things, but the more you do it and the more persistent you are, the harder it becomes for doctors to ignore you. I highly encourage writing things down, and whenever you can, request specific notes to be added to your medical files. I have social anxiety, so I personally understand how hard it can be to go up against ableist doctors, but if you can’t get your doctor to listen, try flagging down a nurse or medical assistant. I think many of us can say that nurses are easier to talk to because not only are they interacting with patients more frequently and for longer times, but also nurses tend to be more compassionate as the competitive nature and intense stress of medical school likely eliminates those who are truly compassionate but may not be as privileged and/or capable of finishing out such intense and difficult schooling.

The one thing i love about the disabled community is how persistent we all are. It feels especially cruel to demand a community that largely conveys the message that people need each other to truly live full lives to advocate for themselves while also gatekeeping the resources that are most critical to even allowing advocacy to be an option within reach.

I’m really hopefully that as the next few generations replace baby boomers and gen x, we can start to see some real progress on disability, chronic illness, and mental health. But until that time, keep taking up the space and resources that you deserve. Trust yourself to eventually find what is right for you, and if people still don’t listen, i will personally show up and plant my feet until you get what you need.

The most important lesson I've learned since becoming disabled, navigating this world that inherently hates disabled people? If you don't advocate for yourself, then no one will.

This truly applies to all areas of life, too. If you sell yourself short, then shorter than short is what you're going to get. If you settle for less, then you're going to receive less than less.

The only way to go is standing by what you're entitled to and standing firm with what you deserve. If you don't ask for it, then no one's going to offer to you. If you don't speak loud and clear, then no one's going to hear you.

[cxnscience]

Jiminy sure hasn't forgotten. He'd been hopping mad in the moment and has tried his best to pass along the basics of how to defend himself— Pinocchio could probably throw a punch better than everybody else in his grade. But in hindsight, there's been time to reflect that perhaps there are other lessons that need to be taught in tandem. He worries now and then that he's sharing only his worst traits with Pinocchio.

So, yes, it's good to hear that the Lady wasn't dwelling on it half as much as Jiminy was. He'd much rather spend his time focusing on the kid's progress than fretting about any missteps, and draws himself up with pride at the mention.

"Next one will be a solid B, I'm sure of it!" He'd love for an A- but they're focusing on baby steps at the moment, for Jiminy's sanity more than anything else. "But that's all him, Milady, really. He's gettin real good at studying all on his own." Though it's objectively true that Jiminy has really put in the hours trying to get the boy excited about education. He's written so many catchy little jingles.

Apprehensive though he still may be, he feels a palpable knot of tension loosen in his chest, a worry he didn't even consciously realize he was holding. It's a fear that isn't often at the forefront of his mind but is always lingering somewhere in the background. Having to move on. It's always felt like an eventuality of some sort - this is a job, and there will be other jobs. That doesn't mean he doesn't dread it.

"I'm very glad to hear that, Milady." Not just that his work is excellent ( he does love bragging about those performance reviews ), but that he has more time. It feels as though there could never be enough of it. "But, uh..."

Gosh. What a loaded question.

"I don't know," he begins slowly, glancing skyward and scuffing a foot along the path. "To tell you the truth, I try not to think on it too much. I've, uh... grown pretty fond of him, y'know. Geppetto, too." Strange as it feels to say, the workshop has become home. The thought of simply not being needed there any longer, even if that day doesn't come tomorrow or the day after, is... honestly, mildly distressing.

"I know how fickle humans can be, but I'll miss 'em somethin awful. But... oh, I dunno. I don't reckon it'd feel right to just stick around after the job's done." Not when there's so much else to do. And it's frankly not his place.

Admittedly, it was a nice woodpile, but Pinocchio did have a habit of slipping outside to listen to the two of them discussing his grades or what he was up to. It made it difficult if there was a pressing matter. Now she was aware just what this was going to look like, maybe they should have met by the woodpile just to ease Pinocchio's mind. "Heavens, I forgot about that incident." She had been cheering him on from her place in the stars, peering out from the small window she was allotted. Brave, unselfish, and true didn't mean he couldn't learn how to defend himself. A real boy would have to learn how to fight one day, like it or not. They wouldn't be there to always give him advice on his fighting stance or scare away children trying to corner him. She was proud of her work on the latter. Just a little shaking of a tree's limbs to send a few apples flying and they were all convinced a ghost had followed them. A smile slipped across her lips. "No, no. Nothing about Pinocchio for once. He's done so well. That last exam was a B-, was it not? He's put in a great deal of effort and it's thanks to you." She holds one side of her dress up as she makes her way down the path. It's one that's familiar and not too far from an unused cottage that she's hidden in a few times before. The air is more crisp and cool, though such a difference is lost on her. "What I'd like to talk about, Sir Jiminy, is your excellent work. Your time isn't finished with Pinocchio. Not in the least. But I wanted to ask if you've thought about what you'll do when Pinocchio doesn't need you any longer." She paused, suddenly aware how ominous the notion sounded. "I...I wanted to remind you that you could stay. If you wanted."

[obeymeluv]

“I Got All A’s! Can I Have Some Dick?” (Bros + Undateables)

Just something stupid and funny I thought about. You had a very tough semester in the Devildom and you got good grades! You want to celebrate and go to your favorite demon to ask for a special reward.

Obvious NSFW warning. No minors allowed!

No Luke. Luke is baby.

I have a personal headcanon that Simeon likes to be totally cozy when he writes. We’re talking big fluffy sweaters or a blanket cozy. I like to think he wears glasses when he writes, too.

Lucifer

He’s part of a special committee who’s notified about your grades/progress so he actually knows before you do

Proud boyfriend is proud

Purrs when he opens up the wax-pressed envelope and reviews your marks

Secretly plans a cute, fancy dinner date at Ristorante Six

Is thinking of being suave and breaking the news to you when you bounce into his study (he may or may not have poured a couple of glasses of your favorite age-appropriate beverage)

He’s got something witty prepped and is ready to toast you and maybe steal a few kisses but you come out of left field like a bullet with a simple “I got all A’s! Can I have some dick?”

Lucifer.exe is broken

That’s what you want as a reward? No dinner, no date?

Literally doesn’t know what to say for a few seconds. Totally freezes. Starts to stutter.

His brain kicks back in when you start playing with the folds of his collar and petting his chest and staring at him with those wanting eyes

Sets his glass down, fixes the cuff of his gloves, and hoists you up to plant you on the nearest surface. “I will make it worth every point, and you will say all the letters.” he purrs.

Mammon

He’s just happy he passed.

Mammon actually does pretty well, he’s just a very...chaotically successful type. A lot of last minute turn-ins and such. Not top marks, but no dunce either.

Now that the semester’s over he’s checking his schedule to see when the next shoot is or if he has time to squeeze in a party. Maybe a trip somewhere. Something fun!

He’s feeling lucky! Lucky enough to win some money and make Goldie happy!

If he’s going anywhere, he needs a good luck charm though! He goes to hunt you down and his stomach just warms because you’re smiling and clearly in a good mood

It makes him purr in that cute, curious little way. Basically using the demon’s language to ask you why you’re in such a good mood (but you don’t know that. It’s basically a cute chirp).

You both shout your good news at the same time.

His invite to go tear it up was a bit long so it takes a minute for his brain to process what you said. You want...his dick?

Boy wants to blush SO BAD. HE’S SO RED!

Well now his thing seems stupid, doesn’t it? He wants to do your thing! Your thing sounds GREAT!

“OF COURSE you want to be with the GREAT Mammon!” he’s got his hands on his hips and his chest is puffed out big in that happy, silly way he has about him.

No, really, you do your thing. It’s a great thing.

It’s a good way to unwind from exams, right? He likes it!

Levi

If Levi didn’t get good grades, Lucifer would kill him.

Probably force him to go to school physically ALL THE TIME!

HIS SUBSCRIPTIONS WOULD BE AT RISK,OKAY?

He’s a solid B student (at least). No desire to be all A’s. Too much time away from other passions.

Because he’s well-behaved and leas likely to get on Lucifer’s nerves, he gets a little bit of bonus money for good grades.

Levi’s neck-deep in his charts and comparisons and muttering to himself about where to invest that money when you pop into his room

“I got all A’s! Can I have some dick?!”

You get The Noise

How indecent! How naughty of you to ask! But yes, yes you can. Absolutely. 100%!

He’s really shy about it because it’s sudden and you asked him instead of him having a cool moment or anything, but it ends up being a giggle-filled romp that ends with a cuddle in his bathtub bed and you wrapped up in his tail

He totally suggests a round two with a sexy VR game or just making bets with ‘winner take all’

Satan

He’s a grade juggernaut with lots of self-discipline so Satan expects to get out what he gets in

The type to be smug because he knows he did well. He owes it to himself and he’s glad.

Likes to treat himself to an outing, be it a simple walk or a visit to a cafe or even a new book

Satan’s 100% ready to settle down with some books by the fireplace. At the end of the semester he typically makes a one or two-portion charcuterie board and picks at it while he reads

Thumb keeping his place, Satan’s in the middle of stacking a fancy little cracker with meat and cheese when you let yourself in

His eyes flick to you and he smiles, eating his little cracker

You pick at his tray with him (he’ll let you, of course). “I got all A’s! Can I have some dick?”

Chokes on cracker. It’s not a good time

Almost drowns himself/further chokes trying to wash it down with drink

Can’t help but laugh at your...bold request

When he sees he’s kind of sputtered all over himself, he slips out of his clothes and makes a few witty jokes as your ‘naked butler’

Naked butler happily provides his services

Later he makes you picked crushed cracker off the floor with him

Asmo

The second Asmo knew he passed everything (like he always does. Just because he’s pretty doesn’t mean he’s stupid!), he booked himself a full day pampering experience

His inner circle of beauty specialist know his routine so they save his spots for him

Asmo sweet-talked them into including his favorite human and he’s DYING to tell you and DYING to make his brothers jealous

You skip into his room, so bright and lovely, and hold his hands in the cute excited way he likes. Makes his heart skip a beat every time like it’s young love.

“I got all A’s! Can I have some dick?”

Doesn’t expect it and has probably never been asked ‘Can I have some dick?’ in the thousands of years he’s been alive

Boy gives an airy laugh because he’s surprised and flattered. Of COURSE you want him (because who wouldn’t?) but he always gets a bit shy when it’s YOU asking

“Sounds amazing,” he’s already peppering you with kisses, “and I’m happy to provide but can we do it after our special spa day?”

You guys have a sweet, lazy round the day of the booking to ‘loosen up’ and ‘fully appreciate the services’ and he DEFINITELY worships you when all is said and done because ‘the epitome of beauty deserve the epitome of devotion’

Beel

Boy works hard and celebrates even harder. Usually with food

Because he’s always hungry and looking forward to eating, Beel likes to do his work ahead of time. The sooner he does it, the more time he has to eat!

He has to keep up good grades to stay on the sports teams, anyways

Solid B student, sometimes A’s. C’s and below aren’t a thing. He refuses.

Because he is also best boy and generally acts as Lucifer’s pseudo-enforcer, he also gets some bonus money.

The coach of his local sports team also pitches in because Beel is best boy and a TANK. He could literally carry the whole team

Beel’s all set to hit the town with his food money when find him and wrap your arms around him

He’s all excited and ready to tell you about the food money when you make his face catch fire. “I got all A’s! Can I have some dick?”

Brain also stops. BEEL IS SO EMBARRASSED!

You’d rather have him than food? That’s pretty impressive! He’s honored!

But...what if you could have both? He’s totally down for both!

You celebrate your success by staying in (bed) and spoiling yourselves with food in-between rounds

Belphie

Belphie is a ‘C’s get degrees’ kind of guy but C’s are his minimum. Tries for B’s and usually gets mid-to-low B’s.

With exams over he’s 100% down to sleep the day away and there’s NO REASON for ANYONE TO BUG HIM ABOUT IT!

Totally prepared to live in his finest pyjamas until school starts again. Might even treat himself to a new pillow or blanket!

If he hadn’t learned your scent by now, you wouldn’t have a face when you breach his blanket cocoon

Belphie just snorts and smiles at your little face and messy hair (the blankets give it static and mess it up)

You kiss his nose and wait to make sure he’s really awake before sharing the good news. “I got all A’s! Can I have some dick?”

Laughs himself to the point of almost choking on one of his blankets

Throws himself out of the cocoon to breathe and wipe his tears away

But yes, yes you can. After he calms down, he pulls you onto his lap to straddle him. 

It’s fun and lazy but a genuine celebration of the end of the semester

Diavolo

He’s the other part of the committee that saw your grades, so he knows

It’s a bit off his plate so he won’t have as many duties to attend to

Diavolo wasn’t sure when you’d come over, but Barbatos assured him you’d be over that day. He did his best to speed through his meetings and arrange his schedule to have a rest period

He asked Barbatos to prepare a small, modest lunch of finger foods and some complimentary tea

You may have thought Diavolo was making himself a plate when you walked in, but it was actually a plate for you

The prince of the Devildom almost dropped that plate when you said, “I got all A’s! Can I have some dick?”

Prince of Hell is super blushy and flustered and awkward and almost knocks his teacup off the table. Is suddenly scrambling to make sure he doesn’t know anything else off the table

Tries to compose himself but can’t help the boyish smile and laugh that escapes him

You’re just such a lovely, fascinating person! He’s so happy to have you. His life seems eternal but you make it so fresh and new! His heart just bursts with love and delight.

Is no longer worried about the food or pushing in your chair for you. Offers his lap instead. “I have an opening for that,” he assures, pulling you onto his lap.

Diavolo likes to think he’s thoughtful about taking you on the floor because Barbatos doesn’t have much to clean up.

If your stomach grumbles after you’re settled and sleepy, he pulls himself off your body long enough to grab a plate from the table and put it beside your head. 

Demons have more stamina and it would be un-princely of him not to spoil you, so he feeds you until you’re too sleepy to eat.

Barbatos

It’s exhausting to be able to see multiple timelines and see into the future.

He never knows how far into the future he’s seeing, or if it’s in the timeline he’s currently in

All he knows is he heard you ask him for dick and almost dumped the wrong thing in the soup, okay? 

Had to excuse himself and ask someone on the cooking team to take over for him while he “dealt with another matter” (laughed it out where no one could hear him)

I’m not sure if Barbatos is considered a student at RAD, but Diavolo must be too. We’ll say he is. Boy is a master of self-discipline and scheduling so he’s fine. Flawless, as a butler should be. It carries over into all things.

It’s a delicate balance sometimes, but he’s type A and used to being busy so it works itself out. He does well.

Barbatos simply looks forward to having less to do. Focusing on Diavolo can be a job all its own.

He was planning on making a few sweets for Luke and the others. Diavolo suggested a “pot luck” to celebrate. It’s something the humans came up with and he seems to like it. It turns into sweets for the pot luck

Probably makes you a special mini-dessert or a special portion of the dessert

If he’s in control of plate presentation, you might get a special sauce heart of chocolate heart

When Diavolo is generous enough to include him in the celebration (because he deserves it and you’re there, so it’d be cruel not to), Barbatos makes small talk and woos you subtly

You ask him to “show you where to take the dishes” to get him alone. He can feel it in his little demon bones. You’re about to do it.

You do it.

You’re basically vibrating with excitement because you probably planned this and think you’re very clever. Human enthusiasm is so darling and it makes his heart pitter-patter to think you were simply bursting to ask HIM this.

“But of course,” he helps you stack the plates and guides your hand to the silverware sorter because you’re looking at him instead of what you’re doing. You almost put a fork in the spoon section. “Covered in chocolate? Plain?”

He’s trying to one-up you. He loves seeing his human change colors and not know what to do.

You whisper “I prefer wet,” back in his ear and Barbatos wonders how he didn’t see THAT in any of his visions

You: 1, Barbatos: 0. Helpless. Defenseless. Horny.

“That will be ready shortly,” he’s already pulling you away, down the hall, to meet your request.

Solomon

It wouldn’t serve him to do poorly in the Devildom. Basically wasted opportunity

He’s not a straight A student but he does well. Really pulls out the stops on major projects and things that are worth more points than others

Isn’t perfect at everything but makes up for it. Solid B’s, always really close to A’s. At least a couple low A’s.

Solomon doesn’t quite know how he wants to celebrate. He knows Asmo’s already pestering him to go shopping or clubbing

He’s considering it. He’d like to drink, honestly

You show up, light of his life, his favorite person, and he feels himself warm with joy

He revels in being the only other human in the Devildom. It makes your relationship that much more special, he thinks. It’s kind of stupid, but it’s something to coyly hold over the others whenever he sees fit. All in play, of course (not).

“I got all A’s! Can I have some dick?”

Pretends to think and looks anywhere but your face. If he looks at your face he’ll blush himself stupid and won’t be able to say anything smart.

He can’t lie. He’s already hard. He appreciates humor and wit and you’re all of it.

Very bold of you to come onto him like that, and he’s 100% for it.

“Can you take it?” Solomon wishes he said something smoother, that he wasn’t already slipping between your legs and grinding against you like the weak man he was. He doesn’t regret it though because the friction is good. Something you both need.

He whispers against your skin and gives you light, sloppy kisses with a hint of teeth.

He gives, and he’s generous. He wants to reward your efforts.

Simeon

Simeon makes it a point of personal pride to do well in the Devildom

That’s the utmost symbol of peace and understanding, isn’t it? To embrace their culture and livelihood and do well? To do well means he’s understanding them and walking in their shoes. It’s only right

He works hard and does well. Doesn’t stress himself out with A’s since he’s keeping up his grades because it’s required. He’d rather reconnect with the brothers and try to help Luke enjoy the Devildom.

He’s happy to spend his free time taking Luke to places in the Devildom, trying to visit the House of Lamentation, and maybe working on some things for TSL since editors are clamoring for more

You stop by because he’s been fairly quiet, wrapped up in his favorite writing sweater with his little editing glasses on

Simeon smiles and greets you with his little ‘Hi, angel’ as he kisses your hand. 

Boy almost breaks his favorite pen when you ask him for...for dick?

He’s not absolutely clueless but this boy has been in ‘holy angel’ mode for centuries. He struggles with texting and stickers and you expect him to know slang?!

So confused he takes his glasses off. Boy can’t comprehend

“You’re asking me to procure one? Like...the ones humans use from those stores? You want mine? Well, I certainly hope so because we’re--oh...”

He could write books of poetry about you, and though he doesn’t like to admit it, he’s had those thoughts

“Well,” he’s standing up from his chair and guides you so gently to his bed it’s like you’re floating on a cloud. He lays you down just as gently, fabrics whispering as he slips out of his sweater and it pools at his feet. “I wouldn’t be a very good angel if I ignored the wishes of my dear human, would I?”

Doesn’t really see the point of sex as a reward, but will never turn down a moment to show how cherished you are. 

Hope you liked it :)

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Omg can I please get a hannibal x a shy girl reader ? Like he’s really possessive of her and she doesn’t know how to handle it but she likes him so they date??

Sorry this took so long, anon. I’ve been bouncing ideas around and this one in particular, I believe, fits your request. Y/n feels out of place among Hannibal’s fancy friends and it becomes even more obvious when he abandons her at a party. 

Trigger warnings: social anxiety, sexual harassment, overstimulation

You and Hannibal had an agreement about large gatherings. He could only bring you to a party if you had a week's notice and at least three uninterrupted hours of gaming time prior to the event.

For this event, you needed a solid six.

One of the major Maryland universities was awarding a lucrative research grant to a student of clinical psychology, and every influential name in the industry was expected to be there. As a recent college grad with a bachelor's in business you didn't know what to do with, you couldn't imagine a less welcoming environment if you tried. You couldn't fit into their world and more importantly, you didn't want to. But the thought of being noticeably different in any situation was twice as terrifying. So you spent the whole week repeating your mantra; blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.

But Hannibal had different plans for you.

Halfway through the week, just when you'd pushed the party out of your mind, Hannibal presented you with a gift.

"What's the occasion?" You asked. You hoped that if you pretended not to know, it would just magically go away.

"I brought you something to wear on Friday." Hannibal answered, hanging the garment bag up on the bureau. "You know I'll take any excuse to dress you up."

He unzipped the bag and placed a black silk dress into your arms. "Try it on so I have time to get it altered if it needs it."

The material was cool to the touch and outlined your figure so perfectly, you felt even a little naked. Hannibal, of course, loved this. You were his own personal Venus de Milo. His goddess and his muse. 

“Yes, that will do nicely.” He observed, looking at you hungrily. 

“Seems a little short for a such a sophisticated event, doesn’t it?” You raised an eyebrow. The answer was yes and he knew it. He was very deliberate in everything he did. “I don’t want to come off the wrong way.” 

“And what way would that be, darling?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your figure. 

“I mean--” You searched for the right words. “It’s a gathering of the Mid-Atlantic’s most esteemed academics, I feel like, in a dress like this, I might be seen as, well, a...” 

“A prostitute?” Hannibal finished, choosing a much nicer word than you would have.

You looked down. “Yeah. It just doesn’t seem all that appropriate.” 

Hannibal approached you and lifted your chin slightly to look into his eyes. “Many Christian denominations believe that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, yet she was Christ’s right-hand woman. She was first to see him crucified and first to witness his resurrection.” 

“Dr. Lecter,” You smirked. “I never would have taken you for a religious man.” 

“Goodness, no.” He shook his head. “But any reputable academic is expected to be familiar with biblical literature and its many contradictions and impossibilities.” 

“What does that have to do with me?”

“You are my divine feminine, Miss [L/N].” Hannibal said in a low whisper. “And I want everyone to see it. If they see a common whore, it would only be a reflection of their own jealousy.” 

Hannibal's rationalization almost made you forget about your fear of being noticed. Almost. It all came rushing back when you arrived at the event. Not one person your age was in attendance. The women wore long, flowing evening gowns that reached the floor. The length of your skirt alone guaranteed that all eyes were on you. In a simple black silk dress, you looked the very model of high society. Silk was a sign of luxury, and Hannibal wanted everyone to know that you were a woman of means. His woman, to be precise. That was why he brought you to these functions in the first place. To put you in a dress short enough for any wandering eyes so see the smattering of love bites running up your inner thighs. He wanted everyone in his field to know that you were completely and entirely his.

You realized too late that this was all his little exercise in showing you off.

Everyone seemed to know him. He only knew a handful of people by name, and you didn't know anyone.

"And who is this delightful young woman?" A woman with a light southern twang in her voice asked, looking at you as if you were a caged animal on display.

"I wasn't aware you had a daughter, Dr. Lecter." The young man beside her laughed. "Or is she your side piece?"

Your eyes scanned the room for the nearest exit. It would be unbecoming to make a scene, so you plotted a way to slip out quietly.

“Darling, meet Dr. Charlotte Ramset and her TA, David.” Hannibal introduced, notably ignoring the young man. “Dr. Ramset, this is my intended, [F/N] [L/N].”

"I didn't realize she was also a ventriloquist!" The lady, presumably Dr. Ramset, joked. You'd heard that one a million times. She looked at you. "Tell me about yourself, sweetie. What are you studying?"

The lady was old enough to be your grandmother and reeked of too much perfume.

"I graduated last year." You said, quietly. "With a BA in business."

"See, there's a good woman." David added. "Only speaks when spoken to. They don't make ’em like you anymore, baby."

Hannibal tightened his grip on your hand. "On the contrary, David. See, Miss [L/N] is quite a bit like myself. She only dignifies those she deems worthy with a response. There's nothing wrong with being selective."

The lady laughed at David's expense and smiled at you. "Good for you."

You smiled back just a little, not ready to bring your guard down yet. "I've had to deal with more than enough. It's best not to engage."

"Oh, I know, I know." The lady said, shaking her head. "That's how it is for us educated gals. Always having to put up with pigs. See, I went to college in the sixties, so I can tell you some real stories."

This was a new experience. Talking to Hannibal's friends and having them listen to you was something you never considered possible. Now, you were one of the educated gals. You were just about to strike up a conversation with this woman, when the man next to her decided someone desperately needed to play devil’s advocate.

“I find that sexist, actually.” He cut in. “Not all men are pigs.” 

The silence following his comment was deafening and you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Whatever progress Hannibal and Dr. Ramset made breaking down your defenses was completely reversed and you were ready to retreat.

Dr. Ramset took a long sip of wine and adjusted her shawl. “David, none of us said anything about men, you drew that conclusion yourself.”

“I mean, look at you.” David gestured to your dress. You knew exactly where this was going and you wished you could just disappear. “You’re basically asking for it.” 

Dr. Ramset glared at him. “David, that’s enough.” 

“I’m just stating facts.” David crossed his arms. “If you dress like a slut, what do you expect?”

Dr. Ramset and Hannibal seemed to have an entire conversation through prolonged eye contact before one of them broke the silence. 

"Charlotte, I hate to have to excuse myself so soon, but the president of the university is expecting me." Hannibal said, dropping your hand. Your heart hit the floor when you realized that he would be throwing you to the wolves.

"Of course, Dr. Lecter." She nodded. "Duty calls."

"I trust you'll keep an eye on my beloved [F/N] in my absence?" His voice hardened. The severity in his tone frightened you.

Dr. Ramset didn't seem disturbed or even surprised in the slightest by his gently threatening demand. "Of course."

"Thank you. And [F/N]?" He said, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. "I won't be going far. Please, try to have fun."

You tried not to look affronted, but you were going to have a long talk with Hannibal when you got home. 

"I'm just saying what everyone is thinking." David continued, his inability to take a hint positively astounding. "Why don't you respect yourself enough to cover up, [F/N]? You have a boyfriend!"

Your eyes scrolled across the room looking for any sign of Hannibal, but he was gone. Dr. Ramset finished her wine and stared at her TA with the resigned disgust of a death row jailer.

"Any other thoughts?" She said, snatching a fresh glass of wine. You looked at her with a clear expression of discomfort.

"Come on, do you see any other woman in the room dressed so provocatively?" David's voice broke mid-sentence. "No. Because they're educated enough to know that real men don't care about their bodies."

The hotel clerk approached the group. "Mr. Hosmer, there's a call for you."

David narrowed his eyes. "Uh, what?"

"Someone is on the phone asking for you." The clerk repeated. "Says it's an emergency."

David shrugged. "Fine."

Just when you thought you would be rid of him, at least for a moment, he planted his hands on your hips in attempt to "get by" you. His touch was like that of an insect crawling across your skin; unexpected, filthy and leaving you squeamish.

"I'm so sorry about that." Dr. Ramset's words echoed in your ears, but you didn't really hear them. You were too focused on grounding yourself to process what she was saying. 

“Dr. Ramset?” You said, quietly. “Which one is the president of the university?” 

She glanced at a tall woman in a dark blue suit, surrounded by equally important looking businesspeople. You followed her eyes. “That’s Dr. Mary Hosmer.”

Your ounce of righteous fury was squelched in two seconds when the reality of having to talk to someone, especially someone of stature, set in. You looked sheepishly back at Dr. Ramset. 

“Could you please ask her where Hannibal went?” You whispered. “I’d really like him to take me home now.” 

Her face turned sympathetic. “Of course, [F/N]. Stay right there.” 

You nodded. “Thank you.” 

Dr. Ramset crossed the floor and politely greeted the president. You took a few slow, calculated steps closer, just to get in earshot.

“Pardon me, but, have you seen Dr. Hannibal Lecter?” Dr. Ramset said, casually. 

“I wasn’t aware Hannibal had even arrived yet.” The president answered. “I haven’t seen him.” 

Your eyes widened. You fought the urge to freeze, but you had to move back before Dr. Ramset knew you’d been eavesdropping. You heard everything you needed and rushed back to where she’d left you.

“Dr. Hosmer said he stepped out.” She told you upon her return. “He should be back soon.” 

You tried not to show that you knew she was lying. “...oh.” 

“Would you like me to stay with you until he comes back?” 

You knew you were completely on your own. You didn’t know what was going on, but you had an inkling that it had to do with the president and David sharing a last name. All you knew for certain was that you couldn’t trust anybody. 

“Don’t bother.” You shook your head. You took off for the door, but Dr. Ramset grabbed your wrist. 

“I’m sorry, [F/N].” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. She didn’t look mad, but afraid. “But Dr. Lecter told me to stay with you. Please. Don’t make this harder for me.”

You recalled how seriously threatening Hannibal’s request was. She wasn’t answering to the president of the university. She was answering to Hannibal. You didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved. 

“Right.” You conceded, stepping back in. “I’m sorry.” 

The actual award ceremony was much longer than it needed to be, and it dragged on even longer knowing there was no reason for you to be there. Other than that, you awkwardly followed Dr. Ramset around the party like a lost puppy the whole time. You were back to your original plan: blend in, be quiet and make it through the night. 

Just when you thought the party would never end, someone tapped you on the arm. You turned around, hoping with every fiber of your being that it was Hannibal, but it wasn’t. A tall woman in a dark blue suit stared back at you. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss.” She said, apologetically. “But have you seen my son? I saw him talking to you and Dr. Charlotte earlier, perhaps he told you where he was going?” 

You’d pushed that man completely out of your mind. You shook your head. “He left to take a phone call and I haven’t seen him since.” 

A hand found your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Hosmer, but I believe I saw the boy on his phone out in the lobby.” 

“Dr. Lecter!” The president’s eyes widened. “How nice of you to finally join us.” 

“...Yes, I believe he left right after making unwarranted comments towards my intended here.” Hannibal ran his hand down your arm lovingly. 

“Well, boys will be boys.” The president chuckled. “Maybe you should teach your girlfriend not to wear such revealing clothes.” 

Hannibal smiled and pulled you in protectively. “Whatever the case, I hope you find him very soon.” 

Her phone chimed in her back pocket. “Oh, that’s him right now.” 

“Wonderful.” Hannibal said. “[F/N] and I will be taking our leave.” 

He hurried you towards the door, his hand tight around yours. A blood-curdling scream came from behind you. You looked back for just a moment and found the president hollering in pain and falling to her knees. 

“Let’s go, darling.” Hannibal tugged at your arm. “They don’t deserve your presence.” 

“Hannibal, I swear.” You said, once you were in the safety of the car. “If you killed every man who looked at me like a piece of meat, sooner or later, there won’t be any men left.” 

Hannibal smirked and reached for his seatbelt. “Wonderful.”