#I was trying to come up with an example of like

[paragonrobits]

honestly this whole thing being treated as an exclusive problem to superhero tropes in general, or implying that superheroes as a concept are inherently bad because I guess people assume they were specifically created to Keep The People Down or what-not, REALLY ANNOYS ME A LOT so this seems a good opportunity to make a point:

this trope is not specific to superheroes, and has been a thing for quite a while in fiction overall, specifically in TV and films (and at the risk of being snappy and letting irritation doing the talking, thus in mediums that get the most coverage and it makes people sound like a series doesn't exist if its not in TV or movies)

At its worst, this is basically a low-effort way to give a villain some nuance without putting much thought into it. It's not really meant to imply, at least in most cases, that their goal or motive is BAD, as some people seem to suggest. This is probably an outgrowth of the common idea of a villain being the hero of their own story; its common to suggest that a villain MUST have some kind of moral point or heroic quality to them, and that's basically where this comes up; its a less well-written handling of that concept by using it to get some pathos into a villain that can often be counterproductive.

I'm gonna go out on a limb here and suggest that its not suggesting that their cause is BAD; indeed, the writer implicitly means that their cause is good, because that's where the villains Good Cause Points come from; if it wasn't a good cause to them, they wouldn't be trying to humanize the villain by rooting them in that cause.

It's not exclusive to superheroes by any means, and the general trend predates the modern superhero genre in film and television, at least in the post-MCU sense.

The other point to be made is that sometimes, the supervillain isn't actually concerned by a problem at all, and they're just using it as an excuse to satisfy their own personal grudges, because it gets them support as they pursue their own goals, or because they're cynical manipulators who never gave a damn about that problem but it furthers their own goals to manipulate others who DO care about that problem.

There is also one other aspect; sometimes the villain does genuinely believe in solving a problem, but their understanding of it is completely divorced from reality, or their intended plans are inherently a bad thing. For example, lets take the common idea of Poison Ivy as a heroic eco-heroine fighting corporations who pollute the planet. All well and good, but Ivy actually doing that is an extreme outlier in her established character. More often than not, what she's actually doing it is causing massive destruction that gets a lot of completely unrelated people killed because her explicit end goal is the complete genocide of all human life, and at extremes, all ANIMAL life as well. This makes her a textbook ecofascist of the 'kill all people, especially the ones that have no power to do anything about ecological destruction' kind.

This is closer to the sort of villains you're actually likely to see; their stance on a problem is completely destructive, counterproductive and generally just kind of evil. Thats why heroes stop them; because their entire plan is to kill lots of people while making vague comments about 'x thing is the Real Evil' or something like that.

This, uh, also tends to be the actual nature of villains that fandoms often present as enlightened True Heroes unjustly antagonized by heroes. Almost every time, they only give lip service to any real goal and mostly just want to kill lots of people or do large scale disasters to satisfy their own grudges, and as such they're not really meant to be taken seriously.

And from another point of view, its like this: the reason we don't usually see the hero solving that problem is because that's not the focus of those sort of stories. If you're going in for an adventure story about someone with fantastical powers have action-filled showdowns with larger-than-life antagonists, its not really reasonable to expect it to suddenly swerve into a political treatsie about sociological phenomenon just because the villain of the week makes some vague references to societal ills as they start kicking orphans into a giant blender to fuel their giant robot that's going to burrow to the core of the earth and blow it up.

Its a fairly basic writing bit to give a villain some apparent nuance without having to do much more, and that's basically it. And to follow the metaphor, I don't think its really reasonable to give a go-ahead to the sort of person who kicks orphans into blenders just because they make some vague references to a greater good and then never follow up on it. As a villain, their only real purpose is to be an entertaining roadblock, rather than 'a hero but kinda edgy' as the term seems to become around some fandoms.

[creature-wizard]

How the "divine feminine" and the "divine masculine" perpetuate patriarchy - and what we can do about it

One thing the occult is very good at is coming up with systems to categorize and conceptualize things. These can be incredibly useful to us in various ways. But we also have to remember that these systems we come up with are mere constructs, and the actual world itself probably doesn't conform to them as we might like. As the saying goes, all maps are wrong. But as the saying also goes, some maps are useful, and some are more useful than others.

One thing that often comes up in esoteric and occult systems are various forms of binaries or polarities. This often makes sense; for example, without light, you have dark. Without heat, you have cold. One party gives, the other takes. Creatures are born, and eventually they die.

But we can run into problems when we start trying to lump all apparent forms of polarities and dualities together. Here's an example: Life/Death, Masculine/Feminine. In doing this, we create an association that might lead us toward some terrible ways of thinking about real people. If we associate masculinity with death, we can find ourselves thinking that waging war and inventing weapons of death is just what men and masc people do, but women can always be counted on to be diplomats and peacekeepers. Or if we associate femininity with death, we might find ourselves more inclined to think that women and femmes have a natural desire to commit infanticide and tear apart societies, and they must be carefully watched and their freedoms limited so they don't upend civilization and endanger the human race.

These are of course extreme examples, but they are real ways that some people think. And you might think to yourself, "well, I don't polarize genders this way, I think people should try to be a healthy balance of masculine and feminine." And if this is you, I want you to ask yourself why you're so attached to categorizing traits as "masculine" and "feminine" at all.

If you're like most people, you probably just came across this in some form of occult or spiritual literature and just adopted it without really asking yourself too many questions about it. When we see something framed as ancient or higher wisdom, it's pretty easy to take it fairly uncritically, especially if it aligns with our unconscious biases in some way. It often doesn't cross our minds to ask where these terms really come from, and what they signified in their original contexts.

You may have heard that male/female stuff has roots in alchemy, which is true. But the thing with alchemy is that it was using familiar terms and concepts to describe chemical processes and reactions. Think of it a little bit like how we use terms like "male plugs" and "female plugs." While old-time alchemy did have a spiritual component to it, it was more about believing that you had to be spiritually pure to make your desired alchemical reactions happen. When alchemy gave way to chemistry, and people began to realize that your spiritual condition had nothing to do with your ability to make things happen in the lab, certain people began to seek more mystical meanings in the works of alchemists, and this idea of masculinity and femininity as transcendent mystical forces unto themselves really started to emerge. It was an incredibly easy concept to project on all kinds of mythologies, because a lot of myths have male and female figures interacting in various ways.

Now the thing is, having myths with male and female figures doesn't mean seeing masculinity and femininity as discrete forces or powers unto themselves. It can mean that they simply personified various figures as male or female depending on what their own experiences and cultural biases suggested to them. For example, straight men tend to think of love and lust as something they experience when they see a beautiful woman. In a patriarchal society, where men are calling most of the shots in conceptualizing the divine, a love deity is thus likely to be personified as a beautiful woman. Straight men can also see beautiful women as a source of discord and strife, so it makes sense that love goddesses would have war aspects to them.

A society where men are sent to war while wives are left behind to raise the children and tend the farm is going to produce an association with men and violence, while the act of nurturing will be associated with women. Men who deny higher education to women are going to produce a society where intellectual pursuits and higher abstract reasoning are associated with masculinity, and intuition and practical knowledge are associated with women. A society where men are seen as bringers of social order and upholders of civilization while women are viewed more like forces of nature than rational actors will associate men with civilization and women with natural, wild spaces.

In continuing to associate these characteristics with the "divine feminine" and the "divine masculine," we preserve and perpetuate the implicit biases created by these patriarchal societies. And while there is absolutely value in saying, "hey, these 'feminine' things are actually valuable and worth respect actually," framing them as intrinsically feminine in any sense - physically, psychologically, or metaphysically - will undermine any effort to dismantle patriarchy and bring true equality.

So what can you do? I would suggest being more specific.

Do you mean passive/active? Then just say it.

Do you mean giver/receiver? Then just say it.

Do you mean harmonizing/disrupting? Then just say it.

Whatever you have filed under boxes labeled "masculine" and "feminine," you can simply take them out of those boxes and find better categories for them.

[24galaxies]

My Home

Story line:- Azriel is sitting next to Elain as you sit by the fireplace reading. You’ve been staying with Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand for the past two months in Velaris. You’re a mortal but Rhysand says you have different abilities that no mortal should be able to have. For example, winnowing or teleporting. Azriel is in love with Elain Archeron even though Elain already has a mate.

Azriel x Reader

The crackling of the fireplace was the only sound that filled the sitting room. It should’ve been comforting—warmth wrapping around me like a favorite blanket—but tonight, it felt oppressive. Maybe it was because of him.

Azriel sat across from me, his form sharp and precise in the soft firelight, every inch of him exuding the kind of quiet power that left me breathless. As usual, his focus wasn’t on me. He was next to her—Elain Archeron. The golden one. The one with a mate.

I closed my book for the third time in as many minutes, unable to focus with the two of them so close. It wasn’t that they were doing anything inappropriate—Azriel wouldn’t, and Elain…well, she didn’t seem to notice his lingering looks. But I noticed. I always noticed.

I hated how it made me feel. A bitterness that lodged itself in my chest, turning my heart into something small and sharp. I wanted to tell myself it didn’t matter, that Azriel could love Elain if he wanted. But it wasn’t just love. It was something deeper. Something quieter.

And that made it worse.

I stole another glance, careful to keep my movements subtle. Elain was speaking to him, her voice soft and melodic. Whatever she said made Azriel smile—not a big, broad grin like Cassian’s, but a small, fleeting thing. I hated that I wanted to be the one to pull that smile from him.

“Y/N.”

The sound of my name snapped me out of my thoughts, and I looked up to find Azriel’s hazel eyes locked onto mine. My heart skipped, the intensity of his gaze startling me.

“You’re frowning,” he said, his voice low.

I blinked, scrambling to compose myself. “I’m not.”

“You are,” he insisted, tilting his head slightly. “Something wrong?”

It wasn’t fair. That look, that tone—like he cared. Like I was more than just a mortal girl who happened to land in their world.

“No,” I lied, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”

His gaze lingered, like he didn’t quite believe me, but then Elain spoke again, drawing his attention back to her.

And just like that, I was invisible again.

I didn’t stay in the room much longer. The fire was too warm, the tension too thick, and I needed air. Slipping outside, I welcomed the crisp night breeze that kissed my skin. Velaris was beautiful at night, the stars scattered across the sky like shards of silver.

It had been two months since I arrived here, and I still wasn’t sure if I belonged. Rhysand had insisted I was special, though I wasn’t sure what that meant. Mortals didn’t winnow, didn’t teleport from one place to another in the blink of an eye, but somehow I could. And no one—not even the High Lord himself—could explain why.

I let out a sigh, rubbing my arms as I wandered the gardens. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here. Maybe I should’ve stayed in my world, where things were simple and I wasn’t caught up in…this.

The sound of footsteps startled me, and I turned to see Azriel standing a few feet away.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice quiet but steady.

I shook my head, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened at the sight of him. “Just needed some air.”

He didn’t move closer, but his presence alone was enough to fill the space between us. “You left in a hurry earlier.”

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Interrupt what?”

I glanced at him, biting my lip. “You and Elain.”

Something shifted in his expression—subtle but there. His shadows swirled around him, their movements restless.

“Elain and I…” He trailed off, as if searching for the right words. “It’s not what you think.”

“Really?” I challenged, folding my arms. “Because it looks pretty clear to me.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I thought I cared for her. That she could be—” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening. “It doesn’t matter.”

I stepped closer, my chest tightening. “It does matter. You can’t just…pretend it doesn’t.”

Azriel’s gaze snapped to mine, sharp and intense. “Why do you care?”

The question caught me off guard, and I opened my mouth to respond, only to realize I didn’t have an answer I was ready to give.

“Forget it,” I muttered, turning away. “Goodnight, Azriel.”

I didn’t look back as I walked away, but I could feel his gaze burning into my back.

The tension between us only grew after that night. Azriel kept his distance, but there were moments—fleeting glances, accidental touches—that left my heart racing. It was maddening, this dance we were trapped in.

It wasn’t until Cassian suggested sparring that I found an outlet for my frustration. The training yard became my escape, a place where I could channel all the emotions swirling inside me.

“You’re getting better,” Cassian said, blocking my latest strike with a grin. “But you still telegraph your moves.”

I rolled my eyes, adjusting my stance. “Maybe you’re just predictable.”

Cassian laughed, lunging at me with renewed vigor. I barely managed to dodge his attack, stumbling as I tried to regain my footing.

“Careful,” he teased, winking. “Wouldn’t want Azriel to think I broke you.”

My cheeks flushed, and I glared at him. “Shut up, Cassian.”

“Make me,” he challenged, his grin widening.

Before I could respond, a voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Enough.”

Cassian and I both turned to see Azriel standing at the edge of the yard, his expression unreadable but his tone leaving no room for argument.

Cassian raised his hands in mock surrender. “All right, all right. I’ll leave you two alone.” He shot me a knowing look before sauntering off, and I resisted the urge to throw my sword at him.

Azriel approached slowly, his wings tucked tightly against his back. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I said, brushing the dirt off my clothes.

He didn’t look convinced. “You shouldn’t push yourself so hard.”

“I can handle it,” I snapped, more sharply than I intended.

Azriel’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might argue. But then he took a step closer, his voice softening. “I know you can. But you don’t have to prove anything to me.”

My breath caught, his words hitting me harder than they should’ve.

“Why do you care?” I asked, echoing his question from that night in the garden.

Azriel didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped even closer, his hazel eyes locking onto mine.

“Because I see you,” he said quietly. “Even when you think no one else does.”

My chest tightened, and I opened my mouth to respond, but he closed the distance between us before I could say anything. His hand cupped my cheek, his touch warm and grounding, and then his lips were on mine.

The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, but it quickly deepened, years of longing and restraint breaking like a dam. His shadows swirled around us, cocooning us in a world that was just ours.

When we finally pulled apart, Azriel rested his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he whispered. “I was afraid.”

I smiled, my hands tangling in the fabric of his shirt. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

For the first time since arriving in Velaris, I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Over the next few weeks, everything shifted. Azriel and I found a rhythm, a quiet understanding that didn’t need words. He still had his shadows, his secrets, but he let me in, piece by piece.

Elain…she seemed to understand, too. There was no bitterness, no resentment—only a quiet acceptance that made me respect her even more.

As for me, I finally started to feel like I belonged. Rhysand’s court wasn’t just a place; it was a family, one I was proud to be part of.

And Azriel?

He was My Home.

[s0ckh3adstudios]

I REALLY need to stop drawing for now because doing so is inconvenient and uncomfortable but I really wanted to get some stuff out for this AU because I have MANY ideas for it- So!!!!! Here's my take on an ISAT roleswap!!

This is Time Spent Among Stars (TSAS)! I've been brainstorming a lot for it during the past couple of days. If you know me, you know how I go about swap AU's. I try to make things as logical and faithful to both the characters and the universe and the original story as a whole.

When it comes to a roleswap for ISAT, I find it to be a very particular task. This is because ISAT happens for very specific reasons that all stem from Siffrin and the current circumstances he's in. So, go for a roleswap where the circumstances are a bit different. But I also don't want to retread on the story ISAT already told. By that I mean, for example, Twinkle is NOT Bonnie. I wonder who they could be? Alongside this is the fact that is not neccessarily a story about Bonnie needing to learn to talk about feelings or whatever with the fact that they want to stay with the party longer. That is NOT their issue to tackle, that is Siffrin's.

There's also the whole star theme. I always kind of dislike when swap AU's still include star theming and a star Loop equivalent because stars are SIFFRIN'S THING. Now you may be confused. because. hey Sock. you did that with this AU? YES. YES I DID. BUT I FOUND A WAY TO STILL CONNECT IT BACK TO BONNIE REASONABLY AND GAVE THIS AU A REASON TO STILL HAVE ITS CONNECTION TO STARS AND THE COUNTRY AND WHATNOT. GUYS I GOT IT UNDER CONTROL. AND THERE IS A REASON TWINKLE IS A STAR CHARACTER.

That's not enough preamble though- I'll put this under the cut, here's my more specific thoughts on some things and the swaps!

Bonnie is the Traveler (The Runaway)

A little kid living on the streets of Bambouche. They had washed up on shore in another town where they were tossed around foster families. They eventually ran away as none of these homes felt like theirs. They didn’t have many memories and didn’t want their memories to be with these people. Similarly to canon, after Bambouche was frozen by the curse, Bonnie ran and ran and ran from the town to the brink of exhaustion before being found by the party. When Bonnie was younger, Petronille ran away from home with them. They came from an abusive home. The night was stormy and yet Nille decided to escape by boat. They got close to country which was actively being forgotten. Nille fell from the boat, injured, but young Bonnie was fine and their boat wasn’t close enough to join. They would float back to Vaugarde with tampered memories.

Isabeau is the Housemaiden (The Missionary)

When he first went to his local House of Change, he was so inspired and interested in it all that he decided to stay and join the House. He does a lot of mission work, going around Vaugarde to teach the Change belief and whatnot.

Mirabelle is the Fighter (The Warrior)

She felt betrayed and confused and broken after Euphrasie betrayed everyone and did this to Vaugarde. She questioned everything. But she knew there was no time for that. She had to save her country. She felt obligated. She was still blessed by Euphrasie, an action done in the hope that Mirabelle would stay with her and watch the worlds perfection be frozen in time. She reufsed. She became more of a fighter after leaving on her journey, growing much more stressed and a little more on edge. She often doesn’t know her strength.

Siffrin is the Researcher (The Archivist) 

He made a different choice. Instead of letting their hazy baggage hold them back, they wanted answers. If they could never fit in here, he would figure out where he came from and why. He’s spent much of his new life in Vaugarde researching both Vaugarde itself and the mysterious tale of the country he believes they come from. They’re a little quieter and more stern and factual here, but they’re still loveable punny Sif.

Odile is the Chef (The Kid)

A talented chef who takes “too many cooks in the kitchen” to heart and often flew solo. Here she’s more interested in the recipes and food culture of Vaugarde. Instead of a familytale, she’s looking for something else- A book that is like a familytale but for family recipes. Recipes for meals or baked goods can tell you a lot about a family and their history. It’s unique to them. You can tell a lot from them by them if you know how to look. She never had these sorts of meals or recipe books back home. Not one genre of food she could resonate with personally because of her divide between Ka Bue and Vaugarde.

Euphrasie as the King (The Housemaiden}

Claude, her dearest, was killed in an accident regarding one of her creations. It broke her. It got Euphrasie rethinking everything. She didn’t want things to change anymore. She loved how things were. She didn’t want Mirabelle to change, she was happy. She didn’t want Rorey to change, he was doing so much better than when she first met him. She broke down. She wanted the entirety of Vaugarde to stay in this same peaceful happy moment. Not to mention now understanding the terror of the idea of losing her country like Rorey (The King) did.

A lot of other details are relatively the same because these are still the same characters, they’ve just gone through some different circumstances that put them in different roles. Mirabelle is still “the chosen one” and gathers the party. Isabeau is still second to be recruited. Siffrin still doesn’t talk about his feelings (but will have a friend quest where Bonnie helps them with that). Odile, like how she wouldn’t say what she was researching, now won’t tell them what kind of chef she is. Bonnie still isn’t allowed to fight. Etc etc etc.

A lot of these are still concepts and are subject to change but I would love to answer questions and doodle some more when I'm not tired LMAO. Merry Christmas Eve, may Time Spent Among Stars woe be upon ye!

[what-is-this-car]

Nope.

So let's find some!

How To Identify Cars

(even if you know nothing about cars)

I should first start by noting that I've already written a guide on telling cars apart, but that's different from identifying them - chiefly because in that context concluding "this is not any car that I know" is a success, since it means you've told it apart from the ones you do know. If you work out what car it is every time that happens, that will eventually lead to enough knowledge and experience to identify cars at a glance. But gradually learning cars as you go through life is rather different than having a specific car (or worse, a shred of it) that you NEED the name of harder than the guy from the memes wants pictures of Spiderman. Hence, this guide.

Properly going over the topic requires me to once again flaunt my studies in perceptual psychology like it isn't the one exam I failed and twice at that recapping what actually happens when you recognize something. That is, your mind analyzes the shape it's looking at, scanning it for traits and features, compares what it notices with items in its database, and identifies a match.

Experience helps with all aspects of that.

It improves analysis, because it trains you to parse the shape and scan it for distinctive traits. Where one may see this...

...I saw this.

It also may mean, with good luck, already being familiar enough with the car in question to recognize it instantly. Or without that luck, as per this case, using the aforementioned details to narrow down the possibilities. For example, the transverse engine indicates a front wheel drive car, and the round, aerodynamic but unfussy styling is clearly from no sooner than the early 90s (not that the custom shaped headlights didn't already give that away) and no later than the late 00s. This narrowed the search quite significantly, and pointed me to potential suspects, like the Ford Falcon's sixth generation (known as AU)...

...though this couldn't be it because the lower edge of the side window is rounded and much lower than that of the windshield. But hey, that's one more detail to note!

So how about the Honda Civic's sixth generation (known as EK)?

Not this either, since the top of the fender follows a gentle upper curve along with the windshield, where in our car the top of the fender's flat, and the door's frame falls beneath the front pillar of the roof (known as the A pillar), where in our car it stretches over to conceal it (trait first introduced in 1980 by the 🇮🇹Giorgetto Giugiaro🇮🇹-designed Isuzu Piazza, btw).

But that's two more details we've noticed!

Then what about the Chevrolet (/Toyota) Cavalier?

See? Now I don't even need to explain why not, because noticing the discrepancies in the cars above taught us details about the car we're looking for and taught us where to look, and thanks to that experience we spot discrepancies here!

This to say, where the experience can't manage it, sheer trial and error fills in the gaps. It's what many people will tell you about failure: try long enough and, if you'll keep learning what worked and what didn't, you'll ultimately end up knowing what you need to. So armed with all the knowledge we've gone over, I went about ruling out a lot of other cars, like the fourth generation Honda Prelude or the Saturn SL1.

But some may not know those cars to begin with. And I must assume they'll be delighted to find out that at one point I just googled "90s sedan" and just checked all images for potential fits one by one. Again, sheer trial and error. Well, not really, since I already knew to look among 90s cars, but again that could come with trial and error if you had a keen enough eye to notice older cars' lines were too flat and newer cars' were too... more.

But even then, the terms were way too wide, and even needing just a lightning's span to assess each picture still presented an insurmountable task. So I used that which is not just my greatest strength, but every single human's, even those delusional enough to believe otherwise:

my brethren.

Yep. Surprisingly enough, even despite my use of light mode the friendly people in the things-about-cars-in-posts Discord server were people willing to help me.

And it was a daunting task, largely due to the heartbreakingly cruel combination of crop and resolution. Lights and front bumper, which as I've gone over previously are the most distinctive elements of a car, are just shy of featured, and the badge on the front is just shy of sharp enough to be parsed. I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that with 10 more rows of pixels I would probably have clocked it in 10 seconds. But as it was, thanks to the power of multiple perspectives and knowledge bases, theories flew in every which direction, from the Hyundai Tiburon/Tuscani (nope, exposed A pillars) to the Ford Mondeo (same as above and flatter lines) to the Escort (the Ford, not me. Neither was it.)

We stumbled in the dark for over six hours, until the legend that is friend of things-about-cars-in-posts and member of this blog @brick-enthusiast came in clutch and finally released us from the torment:

And yes, I reacted with my trademark gratitude.

In my defense, my brain kept rightly insisting it was a 90s Chevrolet but stopped just shy of remembering the Lumina.

And now you can appreciate just how mean the crop was. I think a single row of pixels would have clearly shown the wheel well to be that close to the fender crease, which would've been a useful element.

Oh well. We've made it now. It's the second generation Chevrolet Lumina.

And this is a brand new collective blog for car identification whose point is precisely that, instead of replying with behemoths like these as I do in @things-about-cars-in-posts causing me to take months to provide a simple answer, the posts will just be a couple of lines about what model the car is and, if relevant, how one can tell. And you can be part of the people involved (pretty please) by joining the aforementioned Discord and asking about the cult. Er, the cult. Er, what-is-this-car.

So for the sake of ceremony, allow me to state:

This car is a second generation (1995-2001) Chevrolet Lumina.

See: the fender's crease and its flat upper edge, the windshield pillars covered by the edge of the door, the windshield's bottom line lining up with the front window's.

[bones4thecats]

┗ They're Mine; TFA! Cons × GN! S/O ┛

Characters: Megatron, Starscream, and Shockwave (Transformers Animated) *characters aren't shipped together A/N: This was actually fun to write, I made the idea while ago but never had any energy to write it out. Thank goodness I did, though. I love this, by far one of my most enjoyable pieces to write. ⇘ Summary: After returning from a mission with Shockwave on Cybertron, you attract the attention of Lord Megatron and his second-in-command, Starscream. But, after becoming more comfortable around the Decepticon team, they're shocked by the realization of your status with your spy-partner.

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👑💫 Having one of these mechs on your aft is hard enough. But having both of them? Oh, I feel bad for you.

👑 Megatron doesn't hesitate to show his disdain for any of his fellow Cybertronians, or really anything in general. But, because of this quality, it's easy to tell when you likes you around. Examples of this is Shockwave.

💫 Starscream on the other hand is the exact opposite. He never really shows he likes anyone. Probably because he doesn't, but I regress.

👑💫 However, when you came around, these two changed their actions almost fully. They're still just as unstable as before, but they do try to tone it down when you're nearby. Starscream does this better than the anger-issues having warlord.

👑💫 You were terrified when you met the warlord. You may have been a Decepticon who followed him for many years through the war back home, but actually seeing him face-to-face was totally different.

🧪 During Shockwave's time on Cybertron, you were right by his side. You managed a lot of the background parts, you made sure there were records of a Longarm and Hillcrest being created and being raised on the planet. Longarm being Shockwave's alias and Hillcrest being yours.

👑🧪 When you both were revealed as traitors, you fled to Lord Megatron as quickly as possible. He wasn't happy you both failed, but the way you somehow managed to go that long and get quite a bit of information, did please him.

👑🧪 You stared up at the mech as he looked blankly at you. Shockwave looked back at you with his singular optic, before motioning for you to come closer to him. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and introduced you to your shared boss.

"Lord Megatron, I am pleased to introduce you to Y/N. They've been my right-hand during my time on Cybertron. Their knowledge almost surpasses my own, it's quite jarring."

"My Lord." You bowed, nervously staring at the ground as Megatron stared down at you.

"Rise." He demanded, to which you obliged and looked at him with slightly-widened optics.

"So," he began circling around you as he spoke. "You're the infamous Hillcrest Prime, leader of the Cybertronian Defense. Impressive work weakening their defenses on the inside without Ultra Magnus discovering."

"I-uh, thank you, my Lord. Though, Shockwave did do quite a bit of work himself with that." You chuckled.

"Oh, I'm sure he did." He purred, making your cheeks flare with a slight blue tint.

💫 Your first time meeting Starscream was far different. You actually knew him from before the war. He was one of your best friends as you aged. Starscream enjoyed being around you because you helped feed into his ever-growing ego.

💫 He always said you were adorable when you were young, but seeing you and how you aged was shocking. You stood alongside Shockwave, trying to put a few things together before Lugnut began to spout off about Megatron once again.

💫 You looked at Lugnut and blinked annoyingly, a scowl on your face as he kept rambling. He was pissing you off and both Starscream and Shockwave knew this, but didn't bother trying to stop you. They both understood your anger far to well.

"Lugnut. Please be quiet. Shockwave and I must continue our research into the ship and getting information out of Arcee."

"Are you saying you don't want to hear about our glorious leader, Lord Megatron?! How dare you insult him in such a menner?! Why-"

💫 Your optic twitched as you, without hesitation, stomped on Lugnut's ped, kicked him on the side of his face, and pushed him out of the room.

"And if you don't want to listen, stay out!" You yelled, slamming the doors shut.

👑 Megatron heard the noise and went to the room, only to find Lugnut pouting outside of the room.

"Lugnut? What caused that loud boom?" Megatron asked.

👑 The green and purple Decepticon stood up abruptly and bowed to the stoic mech before telling him the story. Only for you to yell back that you heard him and he should stop acting like a sparkling unless he wanted you to come out and throw him out the nearest exit.

👑 Megatron was slightly surprised. When you first arrived, you were on the shy-side, not really speaking unless necessary. But, perhaps that was how Hillcrest acted around people of authority and not Y/N? Most likely.

👑💫 Megatron entered and looked at Starscream, only to see the mech talking to you like he knew you for eons. Of course he did, but the warlord couldn't give a scrap. His second-in-command really knows how to make Megatron want to cut each cable in his system, doesn't he?

"Y/N, can you grab some supplies from the back?" Shockwave asked.

"...Huh? Oh- yeah. What do you need?"

"Just some lubricants and extra cords." He answered, antennae moving around as you smiled and nodded.

👑💫 Megatron and Starscream glared at one another, but they looked at you as you whipped off your servos and laid a cloth down for Shockwave to do the same later on. Come to think of it, the only Cybertronian they saw you always positively and freely interact with was the scientist...

👑💫🧪 Just as they began to go through the few memories they shared with you in the team, you stepped up slightly and pecked the scientist on the side of his helm. His antennae moved slightly upwards as he leaned his helm on yours for a slight second before you left to grab the materials he wanted.

"Did that just... happen?" Starscream mumbled, Lugnut beside him with his jaw dropped open.

"Uh- Shockwave." Megatron called.

👑💫🧪 Shockwave looked at his leader and hummed, wordlessly asking for the larger mech to continue.

"Are you and Y/N a... couple?" He strained out.

"We started acting lovingly while undercover in Cybertron's ranks, those small actions are practically in our average movements now." He replied.

"That doesn't answer the question!" Starscream yelled, servo balled in a fist as he yelled.

"To sum it up...

They're mine."

[newwavesylviaplath]

there's this one specific take i have on feminism that borders on straight up man hating territory and ive never voiced it cuz i was afraid i was gonna be called a crazy bitch who took things too seriously but i just saw someone bring it up on instagram so fuck it.

!!warning angry woman with beliefs that aren't the most politically correct!!

i fucking hate how much we've romanticized and idealized 'dad bods' not that having a 'dad bod' is a bad thing; i'm all for the body positivity movement, i don't think anyone should be ostracized for their weight AND i have no problem with people whose preference actually is 'dad bods' HOWEVER i hate that it's become almost a trend because it's straight up the perfect example of a double standard. you don't see anyone talking about how 'mom bods' are in and even if u do i guarantee it's not in the mainstream. i'm not saying men being chubby is bad in any way but what i am saying is that we cut men so much slack when it comes to physical appearance and they do not reciprocate whatsoever. same thing with like 'hot rodent boyfriends' or men with big noses- all of these things are fine within themselves and should not be vilified as for the most part we cannot do anything to change our appearance but i hate that the media has been constantly pushing the same ideals on womens looks since the literal fifties when men don't even have to dress nicely or GOD FORBID try and take care of themselves and they'll STILL be able to do whatever the hell they want.

i'm not saying all men have to be jacked. i'm not saying being fat is bad. i'm saying that we never let this shit slide with women so it's fucked that we do with men.

[bubblegumgothglados]

Aftercare should generally involve the opposite of the things a scene involved, it should balance the "negative" physical and psychological impact of the scene.

This is a fairly neat summation and simplification of a very complex and nuanced topic. But it's a good place to start if you're new and don't quite understand the concept of aftercare or if you're experienced and trying a new type of play. It's a simple framework to build upon as you learn more about your individual needs and the needs of your play partner(s).

So what are the physical and psychological impacts of a scene. (Do note we're specifically talking about those impacts we don't want to last past the end of a scene, puppies don't want to be told they're not puppies as aftercare)

I'm not going to separate these because what effects you psychologically is also going to effect you physically and vice versa. These things are not separate.

A good example on the more psychological side might be degradation which damages a submissive's self worth, self image, ego, etc. To balance this aftercare should focus on affirmation and rebuilding /healing those things. Similarly fear play damages a submissive's sense of safety/ wellbeing, aftercare for which should involve being made to feel safe, comfortable with their dominant, and st ease.

Having said that, a good example of this balance on the more physical side is replacing lost energy. Basically no matter what type if play you're engaging in you will burn a lot of energy, so to balance that you should replace that energy. I write about this in much more detail HERE.

Getting a little more complicated; sub drop. Coming 'down' from a submissive headspace, especially one that includes pain play, can be very unpleasant. The neurotransmitters released during a scene fade away, this feels something like the crash after an adrenaline spike, and can leave a submissive feeling lethargic, empty, sad, etc. To balance this aftercare should involve things the submissive enjoys to bring those neurotransmitter levels back up a little and alleviate some of the withdrawal symptoms. This can include but shouldn't be limited to; cuddles, kisses, warm snugly things like blankets and stuffies, their favourite snacks, their favourite movie or TV show, etc

"Top drop" is less a neurological thing and more of a social thing. Although the top headspace also includes it's own share of neurotransmitters which also drop off it's almost always to a much lesser extent. The most common major effect of top drop is guilt; hurting someone you care about is something deeply ingrained as bad and even if they like it, even if they're begging for it, it can still effect you really deeply. Aftercare for this should involve affirmation that the bottom isn't hurt beyond what they want to be, that they still care about and trust their dom, etc.

This is an infinitely nuanced topic, I could write until the character limit and still not cover all the ways that aftercare could go. But I have to draw a line in the sand somewhere so let me make one final point. Don't worry too much about getting this perfectly right the first few times, you'll figure out what you need and what your play partner(s) need. The most important part is the "care" half of "aftercare" show them you're willing yo put in the effort to make sure they're OK and you can't go to wrong

[queervegancryptid]

I learned about a lot of this in college. I worked for housing as a night receptionist, and the main thing I learned from the job was that kids that age, no matter how smart they are, do some really dumb shit sometimes.

The absolute worst thing to do is not to seek help if something like this happens. I've seen kids practically falling down drunk trying to insist they're fine because they're 18 or 19 and scared that they'll be arrested or expelled.

If you're in a position of authority, especially with younger people, you don't have to be fake and "try to be cool" or anything. They don't tend to like that much anyway. But the absolute best thing you can do is make it known in a crisis (and ideally before a crisis) that you're on their side, whoever it might be, but especially with kids, this is crucial.

You're not the enemy, and your job isn't to be a cop or turn people into the cops. Otherwise, people do stupid shit like hiding alcohol poisoning or a possible overdose, and letting somebody have a medical emergency isn't what anybody wants.

Medical professionals don't like being lied to, and in general, doctor-patient confidentiality will prevent them from disclosing any information to the police or anybody else. The exception is if someone is actively in danger; for example, doctors have to report if you're an immediate danger to yourself or someone else. When it comes to symptoms and pretty much anything that would cause physical symptoms, doctors would pretty much universally rather you just tell them what happened rather than trying to obfuscate. Your doctor would much rather you tell them what you ingested and how without having to pry it out of you. That way they'll know how to help.

Another pro tip: you know how with a bug bite, it can be helpful to catch the bug and bring it to the hospital so it can be identified and the right antivenom given? Same with substances. If you have some left, bring a little with you. Labs can analyze it if necessary, and they can figure out exactly what you took and if there are any impurities. This is important because, especially if you buy drugs on the street, you don't always know what all is in the product. If you're having a reaction you weren't expecting, use caution, and don't take any unnecessary chances if you can help it.

Anyway tl;dr you or someone nearby is having a medical emergency, even if illegal substances are involved, seek medical attention. If you're a kid, get an adult you can trust, if one exists, and if not, call 911 or the equivalent number in your area. The person might be upset later if they come to in the hospital, but at least they'll be alive.

If you can, if you or someone you know takes opioid pain medications, or even if no one you know does take such meds to your knowledge, keep Narcan around. It can reverse an overdose and give you time to get the person affected to a hospital to make sure they're okay. I know some people don't know about Narcan, but in at least some states, you can get it for free. If you are taking opioid meds for chronic pain, like I do, even at a low dose, ask your doc to prescribe Narcan too. You never know when you or a buddy might end up taking the wrong thing and needing it.

i saw this helpful print out at my local library earlier, i thought this could be of help to someone. even if you personally don't inject, this advice could save a life. I'm here for all addicts and users, we care about you and love you. everyone deserves to be informed about their health regardless of what substances they use

[angelinthefire]

I've been thinking about how I would most concisely sum up the plot of Acane. Because I think a lot of the complaints you see come from some people result from expecting it to be a certain kind of story that it's not.

And I think the most concise way to put it is that Arcane is about consequences. The first episode starts with an explosion, that the characters spend the rest of the arc dealing with the repercussions of. And then the first arc ends with two massive events - Powder killing her family and the invention of hextech - that they spend the entire rest of the show dealing with.

I think most of the stories we get from Western media are about achieving or accomplishing something, or the failure to achieve something. And you can frame Arcane in those terms. But I think to best understand the story, you have to step out of that typical framework. Because the thing with an achievement-based story is that there is a particular end goal in mind, and I don't think Arcand has that.

Like take Vi and Jinx, for example. A typical way to frame their story would be that it's about two sisters trying to rebuild their relationship. That presupposes a certain ending: They either succeed or fail at their relationship, and that's what the focus is on.

But it's not about that. It's about - how do you deal with an event that fundamentally changes you?

In season 1, Vi's answer was to recapture what things were like before. In season 2, they try to redo the past (saving Vander) and get a different outcome, but that's impossible. The answer comes with Ekko - to build something new.

And this is all over the show - action and reaction, how the arcane wakes up, killing is a cycle.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Hyperbole

Hyperbole

An intentional exaggeration or an exaggerated statement that isn’t meant to be taken literally.

Typically used to make writing and speech more exciting using exaggeration. An imaginative hyperbole can capture the attention of a reader or listener as they analyze the hyperbole to understand the user’s actual meaning.

Examples of Hyperbole

Jim fell off the roof and broke every bone in his body.

Don’t touch that hive unless you want to deal with a million angry bees.

We looked forever for the remote but couldn’t find it.

My sister will eat anything.

The whole world was against me, but I managed to complete the report on time.

That comment is the dumbest thing anyone has ever said.

My mom keeps checking up on me every five seconds.

The explosion was loud enough to wake the dead.

I told him a billion times to keep the window closed.

My dad will kill me if he finds out I failed my math test.

That house is older than the dinosaurs.

The TV weighed a ton, so I had to drag it across the room.

Our grandma was the smartest person who ever lived.

The star running back is a bulldozer who destroys anything in his path.

I was sweating buckets while working outside today.

We live in Dallas, and my brother lives a million miles away in Toronto.

Hurry up and hand me the scissors before I die of old age.

The clowns had the entire audience dying with laughter.

She’s been working nonstop on her new painting.

My job is so easy that a monkey could do it.

Our daughter is a little angel.

The smell was so bad it would’ve downed a bull elephant.

Gaston is stronger than 10 men and has a smile that lights up the room.

Since she got sick and stopped eating, my cat has been nothing but skin and bones.

Hyperbole is an example of a rhetorical device.

Typically, a rhetorical device is defined as a technique or word construction that a speaker or writer uses to win an audience to their side, either while trying to persuade them to do something or trying to win an argument.

In the case of hyperbole specifically, exaggerated language can give an audience a sense of scale. For example, hyperbole can be used to imply an issue a speaker supports is very important or be used to imply an issue a speaker opposes is unimportant or dangerous.

At the same time, hyperbole can help establish a rapport with an audience, as it’s often seen as an example of less formal language.

it is important not to confuse or mislead an audience.

It should be clear whether or not a statement is a hyperbole.

A good practice is to use extreme embellishment or impossible feats in your hyperbole to make it abundantly clear that you are exaggerating. For example:

Ambiguous hyperbole: There are twenty cats in the barn. (A possible event.)

Clear hyperbole: There are a billion cats in the barn. (An impossible exaggeration.)

In formal writing and serious situations, hyperbole must be used sparingly and effectively.

Because hyperbole is often viewed as less formal, it may come across as inappropriate or make the user seem as though they aren’t serious.

When an audience expects accurate information or hard facts, hyperbole can give the impression that the speaker doesn’t have the information the audience wants or is intentionally concealing it from them.

Ill-timed use of hyperbole like this can damage the speaker’s credibility or weaken their influence over their audience.

Literary Examples of Hyperbole

His horses are the finest and strongest that I have ever seen, they are whiter than snow and fleeter than any wind that blows. —Iliad by Homer (7th/8th century BCE)

Nor was Stubb the only banqueter on whale’s flesh that night. Mingling their mumblings with his own mastications, thousands on thousands of sharks, swarming round the dead leviathan, smackingly feasted on its fatness. —Moby Dick by Herman Melville (1851)

It surprised me that what before was desert and gloomy should now bloom with the most beautiful flowers and verdure. My senses were gratified and refreshed by a thousand scents of delight and a thousand sights of beauty. —Frankenstein by Mary Shelley (1818)

Sources ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[musingsunderstarlight]

Personally, I understand where OP is coming from, and I think there is value in wanting to make societal change regardless of separatism. But I think it's worth asking why separatism is seen as "giving up on hope" and why giving up on separatism isn't?

Putting the onus on women to make men better or saying that they’re leaving women behind by wanting to fight for separatism isn't too far off from blaming women (I know that's not OP's intention though). In my own personal life, realizing that I no longer had to waste my time, energy and emotions on debating my misogynistic brother simply about the reality of being female was incredibly freeing. Like, it's fine to fight for these things, but I think it's better for fight for separatism and female-only spaces as a priority. We have to remember that it's the systems that men have put into place that continue to disadvantage and harm us, not just male socialization itself.

In order to break free of these systems, some level of political solidarity is needed, and if our energy is diverted to just trying to quash male socialization in our society now, then we're never going to achieve what we want to achieve. I think to try and undo male socialization is a nearly impossible feat because the whole point of it is that these men have been programed to see you as subhuman. You can't debate someone into seeing your humanity. The implications of this are that you are trying to enact change within a system that is corrupt. I mean in the U.S./the West, we spent decades teaching men how to be nicer, and now we’re being punished by being told that we are not even allowed to entertain the idea of female solidarity. Let me clarify: we gained so many rights, and now you are no longer allowed to acknowledge female human beings as their own marginalized group. As soon as you break free from one kind of man, the other one will be waiting right there to take advantage. And the way feminism has been corrupted by the left after women fought to escape from the clutches of conservatism is the perfect example of that.

That said, I think I have seen some examples where women who built separatist communities and raised sons there, the boys grew up to be well-adjusted and did not inherent the misogynistic beliefs and practices and of their male relatives. There is hope, but why can't we put that hope into building a new world from scratch?

Radblr hot take here but I believe that men are capable of changing to be better. To say that they are incapable of being good is saying that they aren’t fully responsible for what they do because they aren’t capable of being better.

No. They can be better. And they are morally worse and more corrupt for it. Men can choose to fight the patriarchy and treat their female counterparts with respect and dignity. But they choose not to, because they can reap the same or more societal benefits by being misogynistic.

Baby boys aren’t born misogynistic. Sure, they may be born with whatever male hormonal differences do, but that isn’t even 1% of the reason why they grow up to be misogynists.

As they grow up they learn that misogyny is rewarded. As they grow up they are exposed to porn which they choose to use as a sexual role model. As they grow up they watch their parents model a hierarchal power dynamic. They see all of this, and they like it. They choose it for themselves.

I think that men can change for the better. People here hear this and say “you can’t teach them” or “coddling them won’t do shit” and I agree. What women need to do is stop rewarding and enabling their behavior.

We need to free women from human trafficking and exploitation, and we also need to convince women who make porn of their own free will to stop. We need to punish the men who make it. We need to help women out of their abusive marriages, and we also need to convince women who are in relationships with even slightly misogynistic men to end them. We need to have zero tolerance for casual misogyny. We need to start shunning men who are misogynists. We need to hold accountable women who are enabling the men in their lives to hurt other women. Shun men who watch porn. Shun men who say slurs. Stop having their children.

And for the men sympathetic to our cause, we need to convince them to use their privilege as men to further feminist goals. We need them to vote for women’s rights. We need them to intervene during “locker room” misogynistic talk when women aren’t around. We need them to break up the male solidarity around misogyny in a way only they can do.

But we can’t do this as individuals. Strength comes in numbers. Women do face societal consequences for standing up to misogyny. Other women need to defend her and provide for her needs. And in order to do this we need to educate ourselves. Make money. Be independent of men. Become doctors, lawyers, teachers. We need to do everything we can to support women in places where they cannot do these things.

If we can do all of this, men will change. Maybe not the men who are already set in their ways. But those growing up will see that misogyny does not reward them in life. They will not see porn. They will not see their mothers submitting to their fathers and they will not see women submitting to men. And they will choose to treat women as human beings. Because they can.

Radical feminism is not a doomerist movement. I have a future in mind. I hope you do too.

[thequeenofcupps]

Bottom!hazard x fem!reader

SMUT!!!

MDNI!!

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

A/n: DUDE I HADDD TO START WORKING ON THIS AS SOON AS I GOT THIS REQUEST but fair warning it is 2 am for me rn so it might come out like tomorrow or today I’m not sure BUT STILL, also this might be ooc hazard too but I really don’t care cuz hazards a hottie 😋 also I’m probably a little mean to him but it’s just cuz I love him <3

Also @cogdat requested this!

⚠︎ Ok so everyone knows he’s like a scary looking guy but when he’s with you that just completely vanishes, like he’s trembling under your touch because 1 he hasn’t had a lot of chances with woman because he “didn’t have time to settle” and 2 you’re the first person that isn’t him to touch him

Like yeah he’s masterbaited loads of times but he’s never actually slept with someone so basically he was a virgin before he met you and he was extremely embarrassed that he was a 24 yr old virgin

⚠︎ You like overstimulating him or you overstimulate him on accident, Like he’s full on crying cuz he just feels so fucking good and he’s whimpering gibberish cuz his stupid brains a pile of mush

⚠︎ He’s like a goddamn dog in heat whenever he’s horny like if you’re doing something he like comes up from behind you and is practically fucking humping you and kissing your neck and whispering about how much he wants to touch you

⚠︎ He has a love/hate relationship with teasing, like he loves it when he does it to you but when you do it him he’s an extremely flustered man, like after him and the phreaks get back from a successful mission he has so much pent up energy and he needs you really bad but you’re not having any of it so you’ll just coo fun at him for being so whiny while you palm his hard on through his pants while he tries his hardest not to cum right then and there

⚠︎ If he makes you mad like for example missing a date you had planned for months, not listening to you whilst you’re trying to tell him something important You punish him hella hard, like if y’all are getting freaky you remember that he’d pissed you off a while ago so now you’re just rejecting him pleasure of cumming, like he’d have tears streaming down his face begging you for release but you’re just like “nah I’m good”

⚠︎ You own a strap just for him with<3

But that’s only for special occasions

Like if he had a successful mission, won a fight, won some stupid ass contest at the bar

Or if he’s to exhausted from his last mission he’ll let you pull out the strap 9000

He actually really likes the strap but he’ll never let you possess that info to him

⚠︎ I read a Drabble about him never shutting up and I wanted to include that in this fic

He’s so loud and talkative you HAVE to put his mouth to good use because you’re just tired of hearing him talk on and on and on you just need him to shut up

⚠︎ Please do praise him, he loves hearing you praise him for being such a good boy and taking it so well <3

⚠︎ Also aftercare is like heaven for the both of you like you’re getting up and getting some stuff for him cuz he’s too fucked out and is still in space so please help him with aftercare, his favorite part about aftercare with you is the nice warm lavender smelling bath you prepared just for the both of you while he comes down from his high <3

⚠︎ Also he’s a huge hand bucker, if he lets you jerk him off he’s trying so hard to not buck cuz if u do u gotta stop and he doesn’t like that 3:

⚠︎ His fucked out face looks like this: ( ˶꩜ ꕀ ꩜˶;)

A/n: I hope I did ok with this it’s really late and I’m tired asf and my brain isn’t working anymore 😭

[withered-blossoms]

Snow Angels

WARNINGS: Death, witch hunts, indications of hurting people in cruel ways, burning of people (vague descriptions), bodies of the deceased, harsh injuries, mentions of blood

A/N: I participated in the 2024 Obey Me! Holiday Exchange held by @obeymeholidayexchange. This fic is a holiday gift for @rou2464 and contains spoilers for Obey Me! Nightbringer lesson 14-14 regarding Solomon’s backstory as it is pretty much my spin on his lore. It’s also a little long, around 9658 words.

Do what you will with this warning and I hope y’all enjoy it. Also, this fic is entirely fictional and does not represent my / any beliefs. Comments, likes and re-blogs are highly appreciated!

Immortality is not the blessing that the people make it out to be.

People often wish for what they do not have, and endlessly yearn for the impossible in hopes that they would be the unique, favoured exception to the rules binding each and every soul. Take the social hierarchy as an example. There is one, or a group, at the very apex. ‘The royals’ is what those below refer to them as. Then we have the nobles, and even they are split into levels depending on how prominent their families are. The commoners, making up the majority of the population, are bound to respect and obey the commands of those at the top. That is the general rule. They could very well have lived their entire lives, content with the peace and the ease of not having more lives than they could count on their shoulders.

But it is in the human nature to want more. To be greedy. To lay their eyes on what they do not currently have. And to seize it at the next opportunity that presents itself.

Just give it some thought. How many times in human history has the hierarchy been rearranged? How many rulers have been overthrown only to have the lesser of the two evils rise up the ranks? How many times had this have to repeat for the mortals to truly be content, from the bottom of their hearts no less?

Undeniably, quite a few have been out of necessity. But can one truly say that it was purely for the people’s sake that the victors took over the throne as the next rulers? To be in a position of near absolute power? To enjoy the view of having so many others below them? Of course not. After all, there will be a part of them that wanted to stand above all. And more often than not, they realise that with every pro comes a con.

Immortality is no different. Those who long for it only saw the rainbows and sunshine, but never the storm that has to be experienced. No matter how hard the mortals try, the scales are fair and must be balanced. It is simply foolish to try and escape the law of the universe, the one that demands balance and equivalence.

Just like how after the warmth comes the cold, and how the snow has arrived after the sun earlier this year. Blanketing the soil, it aims to cover all that the warmth had touched, be it living or non-living. To hold them in its chilling embrace and hope that it is just as desired as the heat, despite knowing otherwise. It can see how the mortals hid away in their cozy little abodes, huddling to keep out the cold, so imagine its surprise when it saw that one exception making a snow angel.

There, amongst the sea of white, laid an equally colourless figure, his vibrancy long bleached by the merciless tides of time. It left nothing behind but a blank slate, just as it was when it was first brought into the mortal world. He finds it ironic, that humans start out as pure white sheets of paper that are eventually coloured with memories. But what most tend to forget is that as the colours gradually overlapped and blended, white is all that forms. The longer the life, the more the memories, the emptier the canvas. Such was the cycle of life, a loop as complete as ever. Life is born from dust, and to dust it will return. How you start out is how you end up. He would know this better than anyone else; time, despite having stopped for him, still flows for those around him after all.

Those with lifespans often wish for an extension, be it limited or unlimited, for the fulfilment of their wishes. They wish to make up for the regrets staining their life, or to further fuel their procrastination. There is a plethora of reasons, and those making (clearly unbalanced) deals just to attain it are a dime a dozen. What remains the same though, is the fact that when they’ve truly attained it, the scales are there, waiting for them. The now immortal will then finally realise how heavy the weights they have to place on the other end are. That in order to gain all of life, they have to sacrifice everything in life. Their family, friends, freedom, choice.

Nevertheless, if he had a penny for every time a person begged him to reveal the secret to immortality, he would have been wealthy enough to buy the world at least five times over. Now now, Solomon is by no means an open-book. He’s learnt through the hard way in his younger, human days that displaying yourself for all to see is a fatal mistake. However, word will always spread, at an alarming speed no less. It would surprise you just how much sorcerers, even high-ranking ones, love to gossip. It was only due to the elusiveness of the Sorcerers’ Society that the man was not burnt at the stake by the commoners, though he did have to move quite a bit from how frequently those in power sought him out, attempting to pry the secret from his lips with vast amounts of gold and subsequently threats of exposure when he declined.

Now that he thought about it, he was indeed lucky to have loving parents, caring enough to not discard him the moment they found out about his innate powers. Loving enough to risk their lives for him. You see, back in the times where magic was seen as anything but pure and holy, being ostracised for even being related to such a heretic was the best fate one could have. It was thus not uncommon to see many of his kind huddling together for safety and comfort in cages, and put on display like circus animals. It would not be long till they were then given anything but a merciful end, though in his opinion it was better than them being subjected to decades of servitude. 

So, imagine the fear engulfing his parents when they stepped foot into a room with various floating objects and a giggling child entertaining himself. Old enough to know that magic is uncommon, but young enough to deem it mesmerising and beautiful. And as a child would, he pouted when a pair of hands grasped his, causing his fun to stop and thumps to echo throughout the house. With a swoosh, the curtains were drawn.

“Sol, my sweet child, never do that again."

His questioning gaze only served to increase the panic in their eyes, but the terror lacing her words was enough for him to dazedly nod. A sigh of relief was released from pursed lips and the woman rose to help her husband to check on the furniture their child had levitated for damage. He would then overhear his parents reassuring the concerned neighbours of his family’s safety the next day, not knowing that it was the last he would ever enjoy of his freedom.

News soon spread around that Solomon was down with a rather serious illness, one that was contagious. The people spoke in hushed whispers about how much of a pity it was for such a bright and adorable child to have been inflicted with such a disease and how his parents must have been devastated to see their son end up like that. But Solomon’s parents knew that time fades all. Eventually, the town will forget about the boy with the beautiful sky-blue eyes and Solomon will get to live. Thus, the couple turned away the visitors, as concerned and genuine as they were, thanking them for their well wishes and praying that they had let nothing slip.

Solomon, on the other hand, had not taken much of a liking to his new room. Sure, the basement had been cleaned and transformed into his new room, but it was dark. His only natural light source was the light streaming in through latticed windows and somewhat lit his room. All that were left now were but a basement, spacious but empty. Devoid of life, laughter, smiles. He missed his large glass windows, how illuminated his room was and the life outside. He yearned for the day him and his parents would be able to sit at the dinner table once more, chatting and giggling at the stories his father would share about his work. But it seems that day would never come.

His parents, sensing their child’s disappointment, were no less heartbroken. They tried to make up to him, moving their dinner nights to his room, spending as much time as they could with him. However, there was only so much they could do, and it was not before long until Solomon turned to magic for entertainment once more. After all, if there was one good thing that came out of this, it would be the extra space he got and the lack of prying eyes. He supposes that in a way, he had traded one freedom for another; childhood for magic. And maybe, just maybe, he would not have it any other way.

His inner child begged to differ, though he chose to turn a blind eye in denial.

Despite his parents’ worries, they decided to let him be. They may be terrified about potential discovery, but they would rather he be strong enough to break free from future hunters or even captors. Hence, in a silent promise, the two took to covering for their son while he slowly mastered his powers. It comforted them just how quickly he learnt and Solomon was happy to spend time with the two things he loved. He, too, slowly understood the reason why he was confined to the basement, never to see the light of day again, and hated it. So, he vowed to become stronger, to prove that magic could be used for good and to dispel the people’s fear.

Just as Solomon had mentally prepared for his ‘eternal solitude’, a pair of feet popped up near his window. He knew that children tended to approach the woods across his window and had completely forgotten that humans, just like all life, were naturally drawn to the light. The subtle flashes of light coming from his window might as well have been from a disco party if his times had that, so in hindsight he honestly should not have been surprised that they were guided here.

How had he never noticed the light from his spells was a problem to solve later, for he had a visitor and it was not a welcome one. The piercing shriek they let out upon discovering a pair of curious blue eyes staring back at them from a basement was sure to draw unwanted attention, so Solomon clambered back down and laid on his bed.

Readying a banishing spell in the hand hidden in his blankets, he coughed a few times, hoping to pass off as sickly and frail. The new face then tilted their head curiously and tapped at his windows, “Who are you? Are you the child with the serious illness?”

“Serious… yes I am–” Solomon cut himself off, feigning a cough to hide the fact that he nearly forgot the story his parents made up for him. He sheepishly turned his head away, not willing to face them, but that only made them even more concerned.

“Man… it is that serious?” The other child had murmured, bright eyes filling with pity, “You should be out here playing with me an’ the others, not stuck in a dark room all day.” “Wish I could, but I can’t. It is contagious.” Relaxing only slightly, he eyed them warily. There was no way he was trusting this random stranger who had popped up, and he would never risk his family’s life. He needed to scare them off, and what better than the threat of contamination?

“Eh, I ain’t scareda that! You can’t scare me; we’re practically of the same age from what I can tell!” They way they waved their hand dismissively drew a chuckle from Solomon. He knew not how they managed to spot his window since it was rather well-disguised, but he cared not. A few years of not touching grass was enough for his young heart to yearn for a friend, and a friendship thus blossomed. They chatted for a while, getting to know each other before the child’s parents called for them. Scrambling to get up, they brushed the dirt from their pants and waved, a promise of visiting soon spilling softly from their lips.

This new friend would show up once in a while and Solomon has since taken to practising his magic with a board to his window. Every time the new friend showed up, they would knock six times on his window; three short and three long. It was a secret code they kept close to their hearts and Solomon would tidy everything up with magic, check that there were no traces of his practice and allowed the light to stream into his room once more. The other child had already plopped themself down, a pouch in one hand and shiny rocks tumbling into the other. “Ain’t this cool? I found this on the ground an’ it’s shiny! Has a pretty colour too!” A clear crystal with light orange fading to sky blue was excitedly shoved up in his face and it was only because of his window that it did not end up in his nostrils. He observed it, feeling that the colours looked familiar but he couldn’t tell why.

“Don’t’cha think it’s the colour o’ your eyes? That’s the main reason why I picked it up by the way! The orange looks exactly like how the sunset did when reflected in your blue eyes!” And there it was, the unknown reason. “How did you know what the colour of my eyes were?” Solomon asked, not believing that a person could clearly see his eyes when he was in a room so dimly lit.

“Don’t be silly! O’course I know the colour of your eyes. They’re the first thing I noticed after all!” They grinned triumphantly, “My parents say I’m an observant one all the time, and they would never lie t’me! You can have this if you want, I did pick it up because of you.”

Solomon could not deny his friend of this gift, not when he wanted it as well. It’s been so long since he’s received such a heartfelt gift from people his age, the last time being…. well, last time. How should he react? How did his fellow children react in such a situation? Do they cheer? Hug? Smile? He did not know. But what he did know was that he could not afford to draw attention to them both right now, and so he settled for giving them a bright, sincere smile in return. “I’ll take it, thank you so much! You can leave it near my window, I’ll grab it later.”

For a little while, he received no response and tilted his head in curiosity. Had he offended them somehow? Was this not how the other kids reacted from what he observed through his window? Was his reaction too mundane, too cold? Was this friendship going to end? Even worse, if so, will they tattle and bring about his family’s demise? Their stunned expression only served to fuel the flames of his anxiety, and a slew of apologies was on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill from his lips.

“You smiled! You actually smiled! You should smile more ya know? You look very handsome when you smile.” They leaned in a bit closer to see his face better, almost squishing theirs against the glass. The sparkles in their eyes made him blush, a mixture of embarrassment and awkwardness, and he could only stammer out what he hoped would be a socially acceptable reply, “T-thank you, yours is very bright as well.”

“That’s what my friends said too! It’s such a shame you can’t play with us though, I’d love to introduce you to them sometime. You’d fit in so well! I just know it.”

“I’d actually prefer if you did not. Having too many visitors is bad for my health.”

A sad sigh ended the conversation, though the other child quickly brightened up at the suggestion of the friendship being something akin to a secret for theirs to keep. “Aw yeah! This makes us so much cooler than the rest!” And with that, the two continued their daily exchange till the sun started to set and the child went home. As soon as they were out of sight, Solomon pleaded for his parents to bring him the beautiful crystal sitting beside his window and they had agreed on the condition that he be more careful.

If the world was a huge vat of dye, then Solomon would be a piece of cloth, pure and clean as the snow that soon arrived. In such times, none are fully trustworthy, and it wasn’t a risk they could afford to take.  As much as the couple understood that it was a lesson that Solomon had yet to learn, they did not have the heart to taint his innocence. Pair that with his puppy eyes and his parents’ resolve stood no chance. But they were rather confident in their child. He had always been a cautious one since young, who loved his family enough to try his best, and for now that was enough.

Solomon, too, thought that he would understand the ‘adult world’ once he became one, but fate had a cruel appetite for the good that happened to people. And it so happened that he had been selected as the sacrificial lamb.

Just a few days ago, his friend had showed him how to make a snow angel and he had laughed at the silliness of it all. “Look! This is how you make a snow angel!” They had chirped, flopping backwards onto the snow and spreading their arms and legs till they had dug a shallow human-shaped hole. Due to the angle of his window, Solomon could not see the hole in its entirety, but he could tell that it vaguely resembled the holy ones he’d constantly hear about.

“That looks fun! I should try it sometime.”

“You should! I can’t wait for you to get better so we can have a snow angel making competition! The one who makes the biggest snow angel will win!”

“Oh, you best believe I’ll beat you in that! Mother says I’ve been growing taller recently.”

“Hmph, I’ve been growing too! Dad says I’m a few inches taller now.”

The little banter was then wrapped up with tongues playfully stuck out at each other and was soon replaced with bursts of laughter. “But in all seriousness, I really do want to play with you outside someday. Who knows? We might even create the largest snow angel one day!” “Yeah, I can’t wait for that day either!” A vow was made and that day, Solomon learnt how to make a pinkie promise. A new experience to add to his diary, he grins. Having a best friend was truly fun, and he truly looked forward to the days filled with snow angels and snowball fights. He’d never like the heat much, so he’s confident he would fare well in snowy weather.

Solomon then went on his days merrily, preparing a birthday gift for his dear friend. It was their birthday and he had been anticipating their presence since the crack of dawn. It was the first time excitement had robbed him of his sleep, and he jotted this incident down in his little diary as well. The journal was pretty much running out of pages with the sheer number of new experiences his best pal had brought him and he made a mental note to ask his parents for a new one.

So this was what it was like to have a best friend, he realised. To have someone laugh and cry with you, to lift your mood when you’re down and to help you see the world when you couldn’t. He cherished every second of their friendship, and it showed in his gift. In return for their crystal last time, he had picked one according to the colour of their eyes as well; one with a gorgeous shade of emerald that gradually transitioned into a yellow as bright as their presence. He has thought it a perfect combination; one colour representing the eyes that held so much hope for the world and one colour to represent said sunshine child. There was no better gift than this one, Solomon was sure.

The seconds soon ticked by, yet even when the sun had started to set, that bouncing ball of excitement was nowhere to be seen. A growing fear was gnawing at the back of his mind and his stomach was in knots. Something was wrong and he could not pinpoint just exactly what. His intuition had never been one to lead him astray and that only served to make him more anxious.

‘Perhaps they had something to do today.’ ‘Maybe they got caught up in celebrating with the others. Everything is fine, Sol, don’t worry about it.’ ‘But they promised they would make time for me today as well and they have never gone back on their word. Could they truly have forgotten?’ A green monster reared its ugly head, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

Solomon did not realise, but currently he was feeling jealous. Jealous that they had other friends, jealous of those who distracted his friend so much that he was shoved to the side, but mainly of the fact that he couldn’t cheer birthday wishes alongside them.

When Solomon finally noticed his scowl in the reflection of his window, he was taken aback. Since when was he capable of such twisted expressions? He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Now is not the time to get distracted, Solomon. He had to figure out where his friend was, and only then did he pick up on the eerie silence of the town. Where was the hustle and bustle? Where were the kids playing tag on the streets? The houses usually lit were now dark, and the chimneys were not spitting smoke like they used to. Something was off and his mind demanded to know what.

Hurrying out of his room, he eventually reached his parents after making sure that there was no one over. The concern was unnecessary; the townspeople avoided their house the moment they caught wind of his supposed ‘illness’ anyways, but it was better safe than sorry.

“Mother, father, they haven’t shown up and it’s been a day.” He urged, grabbing his mother’s sleeve gently. His parents knew just how much he had been looking forward to this day and had been the ones to help him find that crystal; surely they’d help him get hold of his friend. In his urgency however, he had missed the flash of guilt in her eyes and the aversion of his father’s now heavy gaze, only focused on asking for their help.

Before he could plead for them to check up on his friend, his mother got up and directed him to the basement instead, a strained smile pulling at her lips, “It would be rude of me to show up to their house uninvited and without prior notification, dear, especially on such a day.”

His father nodded in agreement, chipping in his suggestion, “Why don’t I deliver the gift for you if they still don’t show up tomorrow?” The feigned strength in his father’s voice did not go unnoticed, but the young child passed it off as mere fatigue. “It’s alright, thank you.” He sighed, turning away in disappointment. The next second though, his ears caught a faint cacophony of voices from the outside world and he could not help but run towards the windows.

‘The answers to your fears are there!’ His intuition screamed, ‘the truth is about to be revealed!’  What it failed to let him know, however, was that it was a truth he could never handle at his age, mental and physical.

The couple could not grab Solomon in time. For a child who spent his current life cooped up in an underground space, Solomon was surprisingly agile. Well, for the adults anyways. Only the child himself knew that he had also been working on his physical health and strength all this time. Strong powers demand strong vessels, he was not about to try his luck with the next spell he cast.

The burst of speed he gained from curiosity was immediately lost when he spotted the tendrils of smoke clawing their way into the sky. Various torches lit up the city square, and the usually peaceful citizens were now huddled in a circle, thumping their pitchforks against the ground and demanding for evil to be banished.

‘Evil? What evil?’ Solomon wondered, not having seen any malicious entities around in the town lately. The crowd parted slightly, but the little gaps were more than enough for him to spot said ‘evil’.

There, tied up to a stake, was his friend.

Their clothes were tattered, and gaping streaks of red took the place of the rips in the cloth. Bruises littered their skin and their hair was sticking in all directions; the crystal-clear result of harsh pulling. The poor child looked completely disheveled; their eyes devoid of the light they once held, their parents equally unkempt and displayed for all to see. Their once dear neighbours, friends and even relatives were now spitting from sidelines, disgust lining their features as they screamed curses.

“Burn, you heretics! You should not roam the very earth we step on! How dare you try to take over our space after conquering the depths below!”

“How dare you even come up to the surface and even bring that hell-spawn along with you?! You should have rotted in the very depths of where you spawned from!”

“I knew something was up with that little bastard the moment it showed off a rock to my child! Turns out that blue an’ orange stone was magical; it was trying to lure and drag my child down with it! Not on my watch!”

“These wretched beings tried to lure children? How despicable! We must send them down at once!”

Each word spat out drove the dagger deeper into the rope known as Solomon’s sanity. That stone was magical? His friend was a mage? No, that could not be. He could not sense any traces of such powers from the other child and he had always been a sensitive one to such matters. His friend was not a mage!

Clearly, the accused family tried to say the same. Vehemently denying that they were practitioners, trying to reason with the people. “We do not have magic! You’ve never even seen us do magic!” But how could logic ever appease the rage of the villagers? Humans choose to believe what their eyes see and deny the existence of what they did not. Out of the fear of the unknown, they choose to turn a blind eye to justice, to innocence, and most importantly, to the lives of the condemned.

Before his thoughts could spiral, calloused hands filled his vision and he was slowly pulled away. “Don’t look, Sol! We… tried to save them from the sidelines, but they were discovered halfway.” A deep voice full of regrets sounded, followed by the drawing of curtains. “They are neither mages nor witches! They don’t have any magical abilities!” Solomon exclaimed once he had snapped out of his daze, trembling as it finally dawned on him. His friend and consequently their family had been condemned to death because of him. It was all because of one stupid crystal the colour of his eyes.

He had caused their suffering.

His parents released him, pained by the agony in their son’s words. They were powerless to stop all that is happening as much as they wished they could. But there was no way two mere mortals could ever hope to defeat a raging, pitchfork-wielding crowd. All they could do was to comfort their son and pray that the other family would be given a quick release. However, it seems that their son had other thoughts.

The slamming of the doorknob against the wall was all that was left of Solomon; the boy having rushed out as quickly as his slippers could carry him. He had thought about using his powers to somehow save them, be it teleportation magic or perhaps some optical illusion.

Yet he was well aware that it would only serve to make their lives worse. He could only help them hide for a short while but not forever. Word will still spread and bounties will still be set up. His best friend, a beautiful ray of sunshine, ever so kind and understanding, would be subjected to a fate worse than his. Never to see and enjoy the surface life, having to live by scraps like sewer rats as the people scorned and dragged their names through the dirt.

They did not deserve that.

Solomon thus chose the safer option of squeezing through the crowd and screaming at the mayor. “They are innocent!” he yelled, “They do not have magical powers!” That sudden interruption successfully stopped the adults who retracted their torches before they could accidentally burn an innocent child currently blocking their path. “Whose son is this? Children are seen, not heard, boy! Besides, how can you prove that they are not from the underground?” The mayor questioned, the scowl on his face deepening as noises of agreement echoed from the crowd. From the corner of his eye, he saw their eyes light up, but they soon shook their head slightly at him. Their parents were no different, eyes full of worry for HIS safety. They were already tied to stakes, at death’s door and yet this family was worried about HIS fate?

No wonder they say “like child, like parent”. He could definitely see where that kindness came from and it only made him even more determined to stop this tragedy from taking place. There was no way he was going to watch that light be snuffed out, not over his dead body.

“Haven’t all of you known them for years? Never once had you seen them doing witchy stuff, have you? Mmph–!”

“My apologies, he’s currently feverish and disorientated. We will watch over him better.” His mother gave an apologetic smile as his father picked the struggling child up. “Hmph, watch your child before he gets burned by accident. We ain’t takin’ any responsibility fo’ that!” With that, the crowd turned to the three supposed criminals.

“The time to send these demons back to their creator is here! Pray, for their salvation, for them to be cleansed by the holy flames, for them to become holy and angelic instead. Pray, for their rebirth as a clean and pure being!” The wood beneath their feet were subsequently lit, and the family’s silhouettes were gradually engulfed by the smoke. The crowd quietened down, choosing to witness this punishment in silence.

“Mama, are they going to be snow angels now? Since the flames are cleansing their souls and helping them become angelic?” A voice filled with innocent youth rang out, successfully stopping the boy struggling in his parents’ arms. All this time, Solomon had watched on, wanting but not bearing to bite down on his father’s hand. Tears had spilled over from his eyes and streamed down his cheeks in large droplets as his screams were muffled to the best of abilities.

But hearing those words made something snap in him. So, he went limp, bangs covering his dull blue eyes. His parents could only hold him closer, trying not to let their own masks crack. The people would get suspicious if even the adults in their family were seemingly mourning for the ‘evil’, so his parents could not express their sadness nor guilt for being unable to repay the good shown to their family.

Snow angels? Calling them that just because they were being cleansed and turned ‘angelic’ in snowy weather? How could this child watch such a cruel sight with excited eyes and still say such dim-witted and disgusting words? She was but a little over half his age; had she already become a bloodthirsty abomination like the rest of them? The adults were even more revolting, since it was only due to their influence that the children had turned out like that. Unmoving, unblinking as they watched fellow, live humans turn into charred, unrecognizable corpses before them.

But the one he loathed the most? Those who started this trend of executing people for magic, even without concrete evidence that they actually had any. How could anyone even stand for this? Mages, sorcerers nor witches alike harmed people. Well, most didn’t if the receiver did not deserve it. Even if they did, chances are the ‘victim’ had committed some sort of crime heinous enough to incur the wrath of those wielding such powers. Even so, the true victims are always villanised and the innocent have their blood spilled. ‘People like that do not deserve to co-exist with the good,’ he thinks.

He then remembered the promise made to this friend of his, back when they had discovered his magic and had voluntarily been sworn into secrecy, that he would be an amazing sorcerer who served humanity and the greater good. That he would help humanity reach greater heights and eventually humans would not be powerless compared to other life anymore. That those with magic and those without will live together in peace and harmony. The ones with magic will be in charge of the protection of their residential areas and those without will be able to focus on food production and other areas necessary for survival. The entire population be able to thrive and none will be condemned for something they did not choose again.

But were these the sort of people he wanted to protect? To help them prosper and live only for them to kill more of his kind and accuse those they needed to get rid of or despised of something they were never born with? Was he willing to protect the murderers while the murdered hollered their woes into the night?

In that split second, he decided ‘No’. This was not the humanity he wanted to lend a helping hand to. These vile beasts in humans’ clothing will not be part of the humanity he envisioned. They deserved neither his future protection nor efforts, and he will make sure that they know it.

With a raise of a finger so slight it could be passed off as a twitch, he extinguished the flames before the tortured cries could continue. Confused murmurs soon came from the crowd, and those at the front tried to light the wood again. Despite multiple attempts, not even a single spark could get the fire going and a frustrated kick sent some of the branches skidding across the harsh gravel.

Solomon’s parents had a feeling that somehow, just somehow, this may have been their son’s doing. No reaction came from the boy, and they had no evidence. Even if they did, they wouldn’t have said anything anyways. But a temporary solution was not enough, and the civilians were obviously upset about having their ‘fun’ end. Even without fire, there were plenty of ways the family could suffer, each crueler than the last.

Solomon knew this. He also knew that he was not powerful enough to pull off any major spells despite his daily practice. There were no books he could consult, for those were seen as evil traps used to lure innocent souls. He could only rely on his active imagination and was relatively successful for the most part. And yet there was a limit to the power he currently wielded. He just was not strong enough to truly save them from the hands of the vile.

He had never felt so powerless before and neither had he loathed himself as much as he did in this moment. Wide, blue eyes could only watch as the mayor grabbed a pitchfork from a farmer and readied himself to carry out the sentence. It felt as if time had been slowed down, the seconds turning into hours as he struggled once more, a hand reaching out for the one who had never left his side and had opened his eyes to a new world.

They felt so far and yet so near; would he be able to save them after all?

A bright flash blinded all that were gathered in the town square before they found themselves floored, quite literally. What Solomon had yet to learn but did in this moment was that emotions were very much capable of unlocking one’s potential, something he had tons of. Only able to stare at his hands in wonder, he surveyed the surroundings and to his horror, he found that the people had been thrown backwards by the sheer strength of his magic, and most if not all of them were unconscious. His parents were, fortunately, unharmed for the most part, but were also sprawled and unmoving like the rest.

His friend and their parents were more fortunate, for the stake had prevented them from being blown away. It, however, did not shield them from the resulting disorientation and Solomon took the chance to free them from their binds. None were in good condition, but his friend’s concerned him the most. Just the sight of their fresh and old wounds was enough to make his skin crawl and he had to hold back the bile rising up his throat. The priority was not how he felt right now, neither was it the visual assault his eyes had just taken. He had to get them all away before the others regained their consciousness, and so he did. Or well, tried, at least.

“I’m so sorry but please, if you can stand, follow me to the best of your abilities! I…am not sure for how long they will stay down and your injuries require urgent treatment!” He had whispered, shaky hands trying to find a good spot on his friend’s skin only to find absolutely none.

As expected, the three were no longer capable of standing without support and could only lay where Solomon had carefully lowered them to the ground after releasing them. The two adults were shocked to see that Solomon had magical powers, but soon smiled.

“That… was why they said you were sick.” “It matters not, I would have done the same.” Their parents mumbled, the words slurred from pain and exhaustion. “Run, child… bring ours and go. I’m afraid we do not have long.” The lady spoke and the sir nodded, lifting a hand to stroke his child’s cheek and the fingers of his other intertwined with his wife’s.

The stunned silence coming from Solomon was broken by the sniffles from the friend laying in his arms, them grabbing onto their father’s wrist with bloody hands. “Sol, my friend, please do not separate me from my mom and dad! Save them, save them!” They had sobbed, partly due to the salt entering their wounds but mainly due to their fate.

Solomon, with all his being, wished he could save them, but there was nothing he could do. All he knew were spells for minor cuts and scrapes, nowhere enough for areas of broken skin this large. That did not stop him though. He had the option to try and he was going to take it.

He could, and so he would. Like how he knew could try to save this family, and so he did.

Letting the powers flow from his fingertips as spells left his lips in silent chants, he watched as their pained expressions relaxed a tiny bit. It comforted him, though not by much. Their lives were still slipping from his hands like grains of sand with each passing minute, yet they’re choosing to use their last moments to urge him to leave them and to run before he’s next on their hitlist.

“Child, please. Go! Spend no more of your time on us and leave. Run as far as you can!”

“We are already a lost cause … we genuinely do not have much longer. Don’t waste your energy on us and go!”

“Sol, my best pal, mom and dad are right, jus’ go!” A harsh cough interrupted their words, and they watched in despair as their parents’ eyes slowly closed, hands intertwined with each other’s and their child’s. With one last murmur of a promise to meet in their next life and apologies for their sweet child, they were truly gone. The couple had brought nothing but their family to the afterlife, yet they gave and left so much for this unjust world to take. ‘The world does not deserve any of their possessions.’ Solomon thinks, but he knew better than to think that the greedy bastards in his town would leave their belongings be.

Despite their most precious belonging laying in his arms, he could not see his friend clearly through the tears blurring his eyes. He had already set their fate in stone and was unable to save their loved ones; the least he could do right now was to ensure their survival. Thus, the young boy shook his head and wiped at his tears haphazardly with his sleeve. “I’m not abandoning you! I… I could not save your parents, but I can save you!”

He had to, he must! He will do whatever he takes to at least do something good to repay this family for their acceptance! He could save them; he just knew it!

A hand tousling his hair stopped his ministrations and he soon felt his pinky being pulled at.

“Sol…I beg of you…” He looked up from the injury he was working on, large droplets still flowing from his eyes helplessly. Why? Why was he crying now?! The only purpose that these stupid tears would serve now was to blur his vision when his job right now depended so much on his sight! He needed to save his friend, not cry like a little baby!

“Hey… Sol… don’t cry.” They laughed a little, the huff being cut off by another coughing fit. “Never thought I’d see ya cry, but here we are. Shame… that it was in this sorta situation huh? You crybaby.”

Crybaby? He gaped at them, absolutely flabbergasted. “M-me? Crybaby? You’re practically dying and you’re calling me a crybaby? How could you?!” He yelled, trying to pour more of his powers into his fingertips. Watching the boy cry rivers was definitely not on his friend’s birthday bingo card this year. Seeing his tears made them want to sob alongside him, but they did not want to leave crying, so they pulled a little harder on his pinky, hooking theirs with his.

“Fine, fine, you ain’t one… but Sol…I feel so tired. So…very tired. I wanna sleep with my mom and dad. You’ll grant me that birthday wish, won’t you? Consider it my last request for ya.” Their cracked lips pulled back into an exhausted smile, “Promise me you’ll live and become a good sorcerer… for us humans yeah? Who knows? One day… I might come back to you, make the largest snow angel… and snatch your title of the strongest sorcerer!”

“Psh, as if I’d let you take both titles from me.” He huffed, trying to smile back as he gently laid them down between their parents. He wanted to tell them to stay up a bit more, to refuse the invitation to dreamland. But as always, they had successfully managed to distract him from his woes and sadness. He couldn’t bear to ruin the mood they worked so hard to lift either, so he settled for tightening his pinky’s grip on theirs. “I promise.”

“Also, here is your gift.” He took out the crystal he had prepared as their birthday gift. “Doesn’t –” He choked up, turning away to recomposed himself, “D- doesn’t it match the colour of your eyes? E-even the shade of green i-is the same.” A wobbly smile appeared on Solomon’s face, but even he could tell that this smile was ugly. How beautiful would a smile be when his facial features were twisted up in a fight to take control, to either display sadness or happiness?

He was sure that his face was covered in tears and snot. He didn’t care though. He wanted to send his friend off with the smile they had said was handsome even if his heart was bleeding tears. Solomon knew that that was what they would have wanted and he was not one to deny their wish.  

The other child gave a short puff of laughter. “Yeah, it does. It’s pretty like my eyes…” All they got was a watery eye-roll in return, but they wouldn’t exchange it for anything in the world.

“You still have that stone… I gave ya?” Their dull green eyes now flitted to the pendant underneath his shirt, recognizing the imprint of their gift. “You should toss it out… they’ll go nuts and burn ya… for being a witch with a magical stone."

Solomon shook his head stubbornly, refusing to toss out the last momento he had of his very first friend.

“Save yourself and your mom and dad, Solomon... Live on and don’t end up like me…but if you can, become a good sorcerer and help others like my family.” They forced out with their last breath, head turning to face their parents as their eyes closed. Their last tear plopped onto the snow, incredibly loud in the mournful silence.

It was their last call for help, last resistance to the world which sought their lives.

The child had finally passed, a peaceful smile on their face as the life slipped from their eyes, leaving nothing but an empty vessel.

“I promise.” A choked whispers sounded out, echoing through the snowy night. Without the need to put up a front, he was free to express his sorrow.

So, the child let himself wail, placing the birthday present in his friend’s pocket. He cried and sobbed, letting his pain shake the heavens and earth. He screamed at the injustice of it all and let the words fall from his lips. His demands of justice and fairness went unheard, just as it had for others before his friend. It was a miracle that his shrieks of rage failed to wake the unconscious perpetrators; snowflakes littering their forms and melting after. He wailed, till his throat was raw and only then did he get up and gathered the remnants of his strength. He should at least give them a somewhat proper burial, even if snow was not the best option.

He simply did not have the strength to drag them to the woods despite knowing that their bodies would not be spared; the healing had sapped him of his power and there was no time to rest as he usually could. Thus, he did his best to see his friend off. To make their last moments a joyful experience. It was the least he could do when he couldn’t take or lessen their pain. His friend appreciated and loved it nevertheless, he was sure.

He then hoped, ironically, that they will become an angel, preferably of the snow. They were born in snowy weather, and now to snow they will return.

A silent prayer left his lips before the child was down. As his vision faded, he could not help but think. ‘Why were the angels watching this not helping the innocent? Why were they allowing such cruelty to happen?’ He simply did not understand. Weren’t they supposed to be good, preach good and do good? Then why were people killed for something innate? Something they did not choose? His brain could not figure out the answer, choosing to relax his body and lure him into a deep sleep instead. They would need the energy for the chaos unfolding afterwards, it was sure.

As expected, when the townspeople woke up, they were shocked at the disappearance of the criminals. A search party was unnecessary, however, since one tripped over the three piles of snow and revealed the ‘witches’ they were about to search for. Not willing to give the deceased a proper rest, the bodies were carelessly thrown into the woods for nature to do its job while attention was turned back to the unconscious.

Solomon, on the other hand, had thankfully woken up later than the adults had. They had assumed that he was attacked by the three evils upon seeing the blood staining his clothes and had urged his parents, now awake, to take him back home for treatment. His parents then carried him home, both concerned and fearing that they would be next. The couple was thankfully wise enough to removed his pendant and hide it before the town’s doctor had woken up, knowing that the townspeople would send the doctor their way first since Solomon’s appearance was rather bloody.

The boy turned out to be fine, the doctor said, he just needed plenty of rest after the “horrifying attack” he’s experienced. His parents heaved a sigh of relief and saw the doctor off, rambling about how grateful they were for God’s blessing and how their son managed to survive an evil attack unharmed. It was all a bunch of nonsense, but clearly convincing enough for pity to fill the doctor’s eyes as he patted Solomon’s father on the shoulder, all the while reminding them to pray more.

The next few days were incredibly dull for Solomon. The boy had stared at his hands blankly after regaining consciousness, still trying to process his emotions. His parents tried their best to comfort him to no avail; he was unmoving and unresponsive. With a sigh, they could only leave him to his devices and allow him to grieve.

Having gained some personal space and time, Solomon took to watching the snow fall. He wondered if his friend and their parents had been discovered. If so, what happened to their bodies? Their estate? He did not know. No one would tell him either. Closure was not given and would never be given.

He didn’t want to know either.

A sparkle in the snow by his window caught his eye and his eyes focused on the object. Laying in the snow was the crystal he’d given to his friend, shiny and polished as ever. The colours were ever so vibrant, still the same emerald and yellow combination. He had to do a double take and rub his eyes to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. There was no way this was real; he had already given it to his friend so why was it here? Were they in the woods?

He wanted to know. He had to know!

He grabbed the crystal and called for his parents, frantically explaining to them that he’d found his gift near the window and how the other family must’ve been thrown into the woods if the crystal ended up here. He pleaded and begged for them to at least check if the deceased were indeed there and to at least give him some closure, but all he got were regretful sighs.

“There was nothing left, son. There is nothing in the woods. Even if they were left there, surely the animals had taken them. You know how nature does its job.”

There it was, the cold hard truth. The one Solomon needed to hear. Their hearts ached at his pain, but he deserved to know as much as they did. Escorting the numb boy back to his room, they allowed him to keep the crystal and gave back his. Solomon could only force out a ‘thank you’ to his parents before sitting on his bed and gazing at the two crystals in his hand. These ‘rocks’ were all his powers saved.

At least he got to save another piece of them, he thinks bitterly. ‘How utterly useless. What do I need these powers for if I can’t even use them to protect the ones I want?'

‘…If the more powerful entities refuse to protect the innocent, then I shall become powerful and take on the role.’

‘One day, just one day, I’ll be able to defend the innocent from those wishing harm upon them. No matter how long it takes.’

That was the start of Solomon’s self-taught magical journey. His grimoires increased in number, but his diary remained single and locked up. No longer did he watch and observe the outside world, but spent his time practicing and mastering spells, particularly healing and teleportation spells. The sunlight would no longer stream in through that one tiny window; it’s not like it had any way to.

Without the sun to remind him of the time, he relied on his Circadian rhythm to remind him to rest. But even that was ruined when he started to push himself past his physical and mental limits, so the only way he’d rest was when his body forced him to. At the very least, his body could refuse to support him through his stubbornness and he would finally allow himself to slumber.

Sometimes, he would see his friend in his dreams, smiling and laughing, donning beautiful wings of ice and a shining halo on their head. They’d grab his hand and pull him, the two falling into the snow and making snow angels. ‘A snow angel making a snow angel.’ He’d laugh in such dreams, causing his friend to throw a snowball in his face. Of course, he’d reciprocate and a snowball fight would commence.

Those were the most beautiful dreams he’d had, but reality would soon deliver a harsh smack to his face and wake him up. This cycle would repeat till his adulthood, and only then did he truly start to move on.

Or so he thought.

Funnily enough, when he had turned himself immortal on that one fateful day, orange crept up the bottom of his irises and created a beautiful gradient. Even the shade of orange was exactly the same as the stone he was gifted. As for the crystals, he had taken to making pendants out of them, wearing them and roaming fearlessly in the human world.

It was a silent challenge to the world, for them to come and banish him for supposed magical stones as they had his friend. He’d protect these crystals with his unlimited life anyways.

Now his eyes could perfectly match his gift even without a sunset. He wondered how his friend would feel. Would they be happy? Sad that he had perhaps subjected himself to a fate worse than death? Would they finally come down to chide him for his silly magical mistake? Or would they try and steal his future title of ‘strongest sorcerer’ as promised?

Perhaps they would, but he should focus on his skills for now. He would rather they not show up when he’s still this… weak. When the day comes, he’d be sure to make them gape at his magical prowess and have them be his disciple. He’ll then be able to teach them, helping them grow just as they had him, and he’ll finally repay them as he’d always wanted.

Until then, he’ll wait for them. He’s always been a patient one anyways; a lifetime was nothing to an immortal like him.

However, as the years went by, his hair faded to white and the blue of his eyes faded to a dull grey. He could only pray that his friend recognised the crystals they’d exchanged, now hanging from his neck from a necklace. Surely they’d spot the crystals; their’s was hung right over his heart, and his over his core.

“Achoo!”

A sneeze escapes him and conveniently cuts short his trip down memory lane. ‘Goodness me,’ he thinks, ‘how long have I been laying here for?’ Nature answered with a gentle snowflake to his nose, drawing his attention to the slightly red organ. It’s getting cold. It would not be wise of him to stay out too long. His thermoreceptors are still working fine, and he’d rather they stay that way.

Oh well. At least they didn’t take the tea back. It would most definitely go well with Luke’s baking.

Perhaps a cup of tea would do the trick, he thinks. The other human exchange student had just given him a few bags the other day, all the while asking him where he got ‘the pretty green and yellow crystal’. They would love to get one, they’d said. But Solomon could only let them down, saying it was one-of-a-kind.

[dufferpuffer]

BNHA isn't exactly a shining example of great disability rep... but it has its moments - and it has things that are truly WONDERFUL.

It's a children's 'hero' story that's constantly juggling the concepts of "Don't work so hard that you hurt yourself! Eat your vegetables." and "GO PLUS ULTRA! SOMETIMES YOU GOTTA HURT TO WIN!" Which are both... difficult messages when it comes to disability. Not bad. Just difficult. It's not so clear cut for us.

Often staying healthy and keeping safe DOES hurt us. It hurts me. My day-to-day life is made worse by doing all the things I need to do to continue my alive streak: eat, drink, walk, take meds... Is keeping healthy 'PLUS ULTRA' when it's agonizing and miserable - or is letting myself live for a moment, ignoring everything for the sake of adventure and comfort, 'PLUS ULTRA' for being reckless...?

While it does touch on it, BNHA isn't out here trying to answer such questions - and I don't blame it for that. I wouldn't want it to. All Might gives a more elegant answer than any awkward moral:

"I've decided to keep on living."

All Might was a man whose body was his entire sense of self. His strength, his abilities, his smile - not only his self worth but his very identity was ultimately reliant on his health. He lived selflessly, as 'any good hero should'. His life belonged to everyone else; to the concept of work he could do for society.

So what can he feel other than anguish when he becomes disabled? His health eroded, his body ruined, his smile hollowed... He tried to live PLUS ULTRA, pretending he was fine for seven years even though it was literally killing him - because how else can he live??

He lost friends because he refused to be 'a useless shell of who he once was, rotting away in misery. A disappointment.' His friends wanted him alive... but he didn't feel like living, if it meant being 'selfish' and not giving every ounce of himself to work.

His physical health got worse. His mental health got worse. He couldn't work for as many hours as a hero so he started teaching, to squeeze every bit of use out of him... waiting for a welcome death.

"passively suicidal, who knew that his own death was coming soon yet did nothing to change its outcome" He wasn't living. He was lifting others up till his arms gave out.

But now, after so many tragedies and triumphs... hurting himself with recklessness, feeling the weight and pain of managing his health... ...He has decided to keep living.

Living. For himself, for joy, for love - those things he was loathe to want for being selfish and useless... he can just be now. He has had to change his life so many times to suit his health, watch doors close around him, every time with self-judgement he would never apply to someone else - all for the goal of being useful.

Now hes finally decided to make himself a priority. He's learned how to enjoy living. To see himself in his drastically different, less-able, sick body... and to love it. "I've decided to keep on living."

It genuinely does mean so much to me that All Might lived, and he wanted to live. Like being able to see a character so passively suicidal, who knew that his own death was coming soon yet did nothing to change its outcome, decide he wanted to keep on living? To decide that he would continue to live? And actually be able to live? Also subverting the trope of the old mentor dying after passing on all he could to his student in the progress, and ending up old and retired and happy. It's just so beautiful to see

[beforetimes]

have to preface this by saying i don't really care about jayvik and i probably won't be posting about them after this but i DO subscribe to the meljayvik agenda. but only in the context of a very specific dynamic i've invented for them in my head that i can not explain without giving an example, which is what i've come to lay out today.

let me set the scene: pre-act two, mel and viktor become. acquianted. mostly through ""closet-detours"" during very long and boring parties mostly about acquiring funding for their projects when hex-tech is still being built up. viktor is not totally sold on anyone on the council and mel doesn't really care to know viktor as a person but there is a serendipitous moment where mel looks at viktor and is like 'i can tell you don't want to be here' and viktor looks at mel and is like 'you are doing a great job of sounding as if you like these people but i can tell that you definitely don't want to be here right now.'

anyway, this is how they first get acquiainted. and its mostly stress-relief and no one is privy to it except for jayce, who doesn't explicitly get told but after spending so much time in viktor's vicinity and also around mel he can sort of put together the pieces in a way that no one else can. and after a few years of this very casual no strings attached fling going on, mel and viktor both kind of realize that they need more to get the same thrill they did at the very beginning of their little arrangement.

which is where jayce comes in, after all the pieces are set in place.

inviting you to imagine jayce to have the same disposition as this poster on twitter while all this is going on because its an essential part of his characterization in this scenario i've concocted: "Me [heard "PAWG" and got so hard i got nauseous]: i think i hauve Covid." this describes jayce's state of mind far more succintly than i could ever hope to.

now, in this scenario, mel pulls the same little show that she does in season one that eventually leads jayce to sleep with her. this is without the added backdrop of viktor's illness getting bad because it's pre-act two. but jayce knows that mel has something going on with viktor, even if he can't really put into words what it is along with the fact that neither of them have ever said anything about it out loud. so jayce, trying not to do his friend dirty, asks 'what about viktor?' to which mel replies 'he doesn't have to know.'

viktor knows. he is incredibly aware of this. mel also knows this.

anyway cut back to mel's room and they're in the middle of foreplay where jayce is so unravelled at this point that he can't tell if he's enjoying himself or halfway to a panic attack because wow mel is so beautiful and he's lowkey been fantasizing about her for years but also he feels so guilty because he knows that he's definitely betraying viktor's trust but also now he's started getting into this he thinks he'll die if he tries to walk out on mel. which is obviously when viktor walks in.

now i hear you saying: wouldn't the natural reaction be for viktor to start yelling, asking what the hell is going on, or for mel and viktor to have constructed this entire charade for viktor to let loose on him in some weird continuation of their foreplay? i see where you are coming from. that is not the way this unfolds.

viktor, very blase and casual about it all, says 'don't mind me' and takes a seat in the corner. now he is a spectator.

mel is very into this. viktor is very into this. jayce thinks he's going to pass out and he can't exactly tell why. but also i want to remind you of the 'got so hard i got nauseous: i think i hauve covid' mindset jayce is walking into this with. now imagine that times about one hundred. this is the only way i can explain that somehow, some way, jayce continues and they sleep together similarly to the scene in season one while viktor watches them the whole time. jayce, privately, can't tell if he's into this or not. he thinks he is, which is terrifying, but he kind of ignores viktor the entire time and mel does too.

the next morning jayce wakes up. he is much more soberingly aware of what exactly went down the night before and thinks his life is essentially over. viktor is, like, his only friend besides caitlyn. and maybe yesterday mel wasn't thinking straight so she regrets it this morning and now she won't want to see him either. but he can't ask her because he woke up in her bed and she isn't here.

now, today is saturday, which is usually when he and viktor have breakfast together in the lab because they trade-off on treating each other to waffles from one of the pastry stores down the street after a week of hard work. jayce is already convinced that he's going to go down to that lab and find one of two things: 1) empty lab, no viktor and no waffles, where he will proceed to kill himself in his head and cry for about two hours before going home and lying in bed the rest of the day or 2) viktor in the lab, mad, and ready to ream him out in a way he couldn't when mel was in the room yesterday.

neither of these options are very appealing to jayce, so on his way down to the lab, as though he's walking to the gallows, he stalls and kills himself in his head preemptively about three hundred times. then, about half an hour later than he's usually there, walks in.

bad news: viktor is there. good news: there are also waffles?

jayce is baffled. then immediately jumps to the logical conclusion that this is a friendship break-up breakfast and they are never going to speak to each other again after this.

viktor, who heard jayce walk in a minute ago before he froze at the sight of pastries, turns around and is like 'what took you so long? you're never usually late.' very casual. jayce, again, is baffled. viktor is seemingly oblivious to jayce's gripes [not true. he is incredibly aware] and invites him to sit down and eat waffles. viktor does not mention the night before.

mel, when he eventually sees her later, doesn't mention it either. jayce is so confused. no one is talking about it. he expected to ruin this entire interconnected trio by sleeping with mel in front of viktor the night before but literally nothing has come from it and he is waiting for the other shoe to drop while also coming to a vaguely terrifying sexual awakening after interrogating the fact that he was kind of into it when viktor was watching him and mel in bed but also he really liked sleeping with mel when it was happening. but anyway, getting off-track.

this is the rundown:

jayce isn't talking about it. he's decided that viktor not talking about it is some sort of implicit forgiveness where they both silently decide to never discuss it again because then they don't have to dissolve their friendship and make the rest of their partnership awkward. viktor reinforces this belief by acting like absolutely nothing is wrong.

mel isn't talking about it. she is very aware of the fact that jayce is being put through the horrors and interacting with him after that night and acting like nothing at all has happened while continuing to flirt with him makes his reactions to her advances about twice as entertaining and three times as attractive in how disproportionatley flustered he gets every time.

viktor isn't talking about it. he doesn't care that jayce slept with mel because watching was kind of hot as fuck and he was into it and he thinks that watching jayce slowly die inside every time mel drops by in the lab is very entertaining. especially considering the fact that jayce would usually vent to him but because of The Night he is absolutely not going to bother viktor with sexual frustrations about mel.

mel and viktor don't talk about it with each other. they only debrief during one of their closet-detours during a party where they kind of get each other off while in a very false-casual tone mentioning off-handedly how much more fun it would be if jayce was here right now.

jayce is not aware of the extent to which they've manufactured that specific night and the aftermath to ensure that he is in the torture chamber at all times. mel and viktor are slowly wearing down at jayce with their own almost imperciptable advances. after The Night, the culmination of months of planning and pointed remarks and lusting from mel and viktor, everything becomes a waiting game. and lowkey a competition between the two of them, too: who can get jayce to crack and talk about it.

the moment he does talk about it, they plan to invite him into the fold by having viktor seduce him into sleeping with him before mel joins in properly instead of just watching. in this scenario, jayce wakes up and mel and viktor are both there and they act like this is also very normal until jayce goes with the flow and accepts this new throuple-ish dynamic where no one actually says anything.

for now, though, they are waiting. jayce has no idea any of this is going on. he is the most stressed man alive and he thinks he is going to die about three times a day and kills himself in his head once a week because he can not stop thinking about viktor in the corner of the room and also how entirely overwhelmingly good he felt all because of mel. and he thinks he is bisexual but he was employed and a little mentally unstable for most of his teenhood so this is the first time he's thinking about it. and mel and viktor are still having their closet-detours while trying to sweat jayce out.

to me personally, this is the ideal pre-act two, season one dynamic for meljayvik to work. hope you all see the vision too