#I'm finding the silver (well. red (; ) linings where i can

[snowshinobi]

I can now say I've drawn blood during a makeout sesh how much does this up my cannibalism cred

[lovebugism]

could you do some drunk Eddie blurbs or oneshots? Thanks! I love your stuff btw

✶ ┄ DRUNK IN LOVE !

summary: "you're drunk, eds" / "yeah, super drunk. and in the morning, when i'm sober, you’ll still be beautiful… i’m just gonna be too chicken shit to tell you." pairing: best friend!eddie munson / f!reader word count: 3.8k warnings: talks of alcohol, getting drunk, and taking care of a super drunk eddie! barely proofread so pretend any typos are nonexistent <3 a/n: i'm learning it's next impossible for me to write blurbs. i get an idea for one and boom. it's nearly 4k words. thanks for the request, anon! hope you like it xoxo

( MASTERLIST )

Eddie didn’t realize until he was halfway through his fifth beer, that he probably should’ve stopped at his fourth. 

He’d stumbled upon that finicky little fork in the road at the crux both drinks, a line he was toeing all night between blissfully tipsy and borderline obliterated. You can only really maneuver it if you’re smart about it, and in true Munson fashion, Eddie opted for the exact wrong decision.

It wasn’t like he’d ever prided himself on being a man of self-control. He was gluttonous to a fault, green and greedy at times, especially when there was free alcohol involved.

Eddie had been a grumpy little stick in the mud when you and him first got to Steve’s place. He didn’t feel like partying that night or sharing you with people he could barely stand. They were your friends, after all, not his. He only tolerated the bunch of them because you did. He spent the entire drive lamenting about how illegal it was — to be his best friend and have other people in your life you cared about the same way you cared about him. 

“That’s obviously against the rules,” he joked.

You only scoffed in response. “Obviously.”

Undeterred by his complaints, you drug him halfway across Hawkins with you like a storm cloud on a leash.

When you arrived, he found that it wasn’t a party at all. It was just Steve and Robin drinking together on the couch while Nancy and Jonathan stirred around in the kitchen and scolded Argyle for rifling through all the cabinets.

Music spilled lowly from the radio, a platter of snacks were laid out on the coffee table, and everyone smiled at you when you walked in. It wasn’t nearly as loud or as overwhelming as he’d dreaded it might be on the drive over.

Didn’t mean he was any happier about it, though.

“I don’t know about this,” he cautioned in your ear from where he stood behind your shoulder, seeking a familiar refuge in you once all the greetings were done. “We talked to everyone, can’t we just, like… go? I don’t think I’m gonna have a good time here, babe.”

Babe, he calls you, a nickname that’s left half of Hawkins believing the two of you were really dating. You stopped blushing about it some years ago, when the novelty of it wore off and it ultimately replaced your actual name.

You shrugged, grasping for a reason to make him stay. “Steve said he had a keg.”

The big silver thing next to the kitchen island didn’t catch his eye until then. You peered up at him, finding a sudden sparkle in his gaze. His bushy brows bounced and his pink mouth fell soft agape at the sight of it. Something swelled in his heart then, a distant and boyish happiness. 

“…I’m gonna try.”

He was pretty much a goner after that.

The beer was pretty stellar, but more than anything, the keg kept it cold. Eddie could barely drag himself away from the damn thing — the red solo cup hadn’t left his right hand all night. And when Steve let him handle the music, that was even better… Well, technically, he let you handle the music, but you sifted through his tapes and picked only what you knew Eddie would like — just like you always did.

Any other time, Eddie might’ve asked what the hell King Steve was doing with so many KISS cassettes, but he was already too drunk to think logically about anything by the time “Detroit Rock City” started playing. He stopped caring and let all the beer and music coursing through his system do all the work for him.

And while stumbling for his sixth refill with Robin, he concludes that he is, in fact, completely and utterly and unabashedly drunk. He’s still sober yet, enough to make such an admission to himself, but too far gone now to stop drinking.

He crouches slightly to bring the nozzle to the rim of his cup without much resistance. His tongue pokes through his tingling lips as he pours all of his concentration into aiming the beer into his plastic chalice and not completely toppling over onto the kitchen floor below him.

That’s when he spots you and Steve sitting on the couch, a little too close for his liking.

The brunette boy has his arms sprawled over the back of the sofa like he owns the place (Eddie’s too drink to remember he does, in fact, own the place) and your legs are delicately crossed and turned towards him, too enraptured in whatever conversation you were having to notice that your best friend had run off (you’d been trying to look after him all night, it wasn’t your fault he kept dodging you).

And it wasn’t his place to be jealous, he knew that. You didn’t belong to him. You could do whatever the hell you wanted to.

If he wasn’t so sloshed, he might’ve been able to recall that you don’t have a thing for Steve — that you’ve never had a thing for Steve, because you’ve spent your entire life in love with your best friend.

But you were too chicken shit to tell Eddie and Eddie was too oblivious to see any of it and it left the both of you in a permanent limbo of unsaid feelings.

So much so, that he once encouraged you to conquer the feat of King Steve one night, many moons ago. He thought he’d noticed the two of you being overtly touchy in the back of a dimly lit club.

Eddie was sober enough then to make fun of it all while still feeling every ounce of his misplaced jealousy as he playfully promised you that “you had his blessing to screw Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.”

You should’ve known you were screwed when you told him that you didn’t want to screw Steve because “you had your eyes on someone else,” and he completely missed the brave, longing look you shot his way.

Eddie spent the rest of the night pestering you endlessly about your crush, while you just sat there, red hot and embarrassed about the whole thing.

Now he’s the one feeling like a fool, watching his best friend make nice with the dowager king of Hawkins.

Being without you makes the distance feel somehow wider from where stands across the too big house, feeling like a stray puppy everyone adores but never actually choses.

Robin taps him on the shoulder to bring him from his stupor before he can waste the foaming beer rapidly filling his cup, though there was no stopping the drunken war path he goes on after.

You and Steve giggle to yourselves as you watch Nancy twirl drunkenly to the tune of the Joan Jett, louder when Jonathan fights to keep her from stumbling over herself. The boy leans over to you, whispering a joke only you can hear, and smiling when it makes you laugh.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Eddie scolds when he stumbles up to the couch. “What’re you two love birds whisperin’ ‘bout over here, huh?”

The two of you blink up at the boy, surprised by his sudden visit and how much drunker he’d gotten since you spoke to him last.

He’s all flushed out, cheeks glowing red with the alcohol in his system, and slurring something fierce — the kind of drawled out garbles that only sound clear to the one that’s speaking.

“We were talking about you, Eds,” you smile without missing a beat. “Been missin’ you over here.”

Steve nods with a dumb, tight-lipped grin. “Yeah. You’ve been making friends with that keg instead of the rest of us, man—”

“Yeah, right,” the boy scoffs out a laugh with a bitter nod. He less than gracefully squeezes between your legs and the coffee table. “Scooch over, Harrington. Make some room. ’S too damn cuddly over here.”

With no choice but to comply, the two of you part.

“Scooch?” you hear Steve mutter under his breath with a faint laugh that has you giggling too. Eddie’s not drunk enough to miss the glance that both of you share, seemingly having some sort of silent conversation that’s left him, yet again, out of the loop.

He’s got a full on pout on his numbing face when he settles between you and Steve, losing his balance briefly before landing in a clumsy pile between the both of you. The beer in his freshly filled up cup sloshes over the rim and splashes into your lap. The alcohol stains the belly of your t-shirt, leaving it cold and clinging to your skin.

And it’s not as dramatic as the movies make it seem, where a guy spills a drink on a girl and something terribly melodramatic ensues. You weren’t trying to impress anybody, least of all with your outfit — hell, you’d probably stolen it from Eddie himself a lifetime or more ago. You don’t get angry or rush out of the room for a good cry.

Actually, you smile sweetly at him, with the realization that it was time for you and your way-too-drunk-to-function best friend to head home.

Eddie gets all sad about it anyway, though, because to him it really does feel all that dramatic. His face screws up like he’s just done something irreversible. His umber eyes glimmer at you with a particular sadness only a drunk person could possess. 

“Shit, babe… I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay, Eds—”

“No, it’s not okay. I’m sorry,” he slurs with the sloppy shake of his head. “Please don’t be mad at me, babe. I didn’t mean to.”

“No one’s mad at you, Eddie,” you affirm with a soft laugh, dabbing at the wet spot of your shirt with the bunch of napkins Jonathan (the only other half-sober person aside from you and Steve) haphazardly hands to you.

“I can give you another shirt, if you want,” Steve offers, already standing to retrieve it for you. “Might be too big but it’s—”

Eddie’s head snaps away from you and to the brunette boy. A cartoon-like anger coats his buzzing features. “Like hell you will, Harrington,” he tries to threaten, though the words come out half-jumbled together. “Won’t have my girl wearin’ your shit, Steven—”

You burn red hot at the new nickname, equal parts embarrassed and delighted as you stand from your position on the sofa. Suddenly eager to escape the situation, you reach for Eddie’s hand. “Alright, Eds. Let’s go.”

He accepts your touch without question, rising on swaying feet and forcing you to keep an arm around his waist to keep him steady.

He’s already forgotten what he just said. He has no idea that your heart’s just done a billion backflips for him. He focuses, instead, on the thought of a new adventure with you. “Ooh. Where we goin’ now?”

“I’m taking you back to the trailer, okay?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, suddenly displeased again. “Yeah, whatever… You wanna spend more time with King Steve, I see what you’re doin’—”

“I’m coming with you, Eds,” you laugh.

It’s like the switch flipped and he’s grinning all sloppy and stupid at you again. He tosses the smug look to the boy standing at his other side. “Suck it, Stevie—”

“Eddie!” you scold.

“You guys can just take the spare bedroom,” Steve offers despite Eddie’s teasing. “I don’t want you driving like this.”

“Oh, how fucking chivalrous,” your best friend grumbles under his breath.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” you press with brows furrowed in concern. “I don’t want to, you know, intrude or whatever. I’m good to drive—”

“No, it’s fine. Really. He should probably lie down anyway.”

“Yeah… Okay.”

“You know where it is, right?” he asks you and you nod

Eddie takes great offense to your affirmative answer.

“Wait, why do you know where it is?” he pouts down at you, figuring there’s something dirty hidden in the fact you’ve slept in your friend’s guest bedroom before. You shake your head and opt not to answer as you help him towards the stairs. “Why do you know where it is?”

“—Go upstairs, okay?” you shout over him, trying your best to stay patient. “I’ll check on you in a second.”

He lingers on the first stair and juts out his lip. His pointer fingers trails the intricate carvings in the wood of the banister while his glassy puppy dog eyes glimmer down at you. “…Promise?”

“Yes, Eddie. I promise.”

With that, he makes careful work climbing the stairs, hanging onto the railing for dear life as he goes. You watch attentively, prepared to rush to him if he stumbles, and able to breathe out a sigh of relief when he makes it to the top step. 

You turn away from the hallway of the staircase and back to your friends, who — save for Steve and maybe Jonathan — haven’t yet bothered to acknowledge the situation.

Robin is rifling through Steve’s cabinets for food, Argyle’s at the keg pouring beer into his mouth straight from the nozzle, and Nancy hasn’t stopped dancing the entire time. You’re not even sure if she knows the song.

“I didn’t know you guys were dating,” Stevie remarks with a smile. “No wonder he was being so… like that.”

You shake your head and duck your gaze. “We’re not. Dating, I mean— he’s just, like, super drunk.”

“…Really?”

“Really,” you breathe out a laugh at the way your admission make this face twist in confusion.

“I’ve just— I’ve never heard a drunk person talk that way about someone they didn’t, you know… like.”

A part of you so desperately wants that to be true.

Eddie’s never been particularly shy about calling you babe or sweetheart or honey in front of people — sometimes he did it just to throw them off. But something about him getting jealous over a guy you’ve never liked, calling you his girl to bat the believed ‘affections’ away, has a foreign feeling swirling in your belly.

You force yourself to swallow your hopes down.

“Well, you’ve never met drunk Eddie,” you tell him with a shrug. “The freak’ll say just about anything.”

You make your way up to the guest bedroom and find Eddie slouched at the top step. He looks terribly sad, pouting with his elbows propped up on his knees and his hands on his chin. But he lights up like a christmas tree all over again at the sight of you.

“What are you doing, Eddie? You were supposed to be laying down,” you scold softly.

“I missed you,” he whines, gazing up at you with twinkling, red-rimmed eyes. “And I got lost… And then I forgot how to walk.”

You try your best to keep a straight face as you help him up again, trying to ignore the way your heart thrums like a hummingbird when he leans completely into your side. 

You walk the staggering boy the short distance to Steve’s guest bedroom.

It’s as extravagant as the rest of the house, complete with large windows and expensive furniture and a thousand throw pillows on the freshly made bed. The entire room practically sparkles, there’s not a single crease in the bedsheets; it probably hasn’t been touched since the last time one of you spent the night there.

Eddie flops onto the bed when you urge him to sit down. He makes himself comfortable with ease, legs still hanging over the side as he throws his arms out, melting easily into the newly laundered blankets.

You navigate through the darkness, illuminated only by a subtle moonlight, to the seating area across the room. The newly granted privacy of the guest bedroom allows you to strip off your damp shirt. The wet spot sticks to your skin when you peel it off of you. The feeling makes you grimace. 

You don’t think twice about being in your bra in front of Eddie — he’s not even looking at you now — and besides, he’s seen you in less. You’ve been friends for far too long to care. Being naked in front of each other stops meaning so much after accidentally catching each other changing a half a billion times.

Leaving your shirt in a crumpled pile on the arm of the couch, you make the silent decision to sleep there for the night. Many a bed has been shared between you and Eddie, but he’s going to need all the comfort he can get tonight — the hangover he’ll have tomorrow will feel like hell, no doubt.

You look across the dark room at Eddie and find he hasn’t moved an inch. “Take off your clothes, Eds. You’re not gonna be comfortable sleeping in jeans.”

“Mm,” he groans in the darkness, as though in protest, already half-asleep.

“You’re already gonna feel like shit in the morning, especially if you’re sleeping like that,” you advise with a soft laugh. “Come on, Eds. At least take off your shoes.”

“…Don’t know how,” he murmurs.

You roll your eyes at him, even though he can’t see you, even though you do it all for him anyway. It was second nature to you, taking care of Eddie, and you do it with an ease that makes his drunken little heart swell. 

You start with his shoes, not having to untie them because they’re so loose on his feet. His jeans come next, a far bigger struggle because you do it with little help from the boy in the bed. His belt is strangely tricky and he claims his body feels too heavy to lift his hips for you.

But what he lacks in assistance, he makes up for in cheeky one-liners — “At least, take me out to dinner first, babe” and “If you wanted to see me naked so bad, you coulda just said" to name a few.

Once he’s clad in nothing but his Hellfire t-shirt, R2D2 patterned underwear, and hand-me-down socks that barely fit him, you maneuver him so he’s lying properly in bed.

You toss away all the pillows that are more for decoration than anything else, pull the covers down and over his body, and Eddie doesn’t do a single damn thing but watch. 

He couldn’t do anything even if he wanted to because his heart is so far in his throat he can’t breathe. 

You’re so unfamiliarly soft with him — sweet in your way than anyone will ever be to him in his lifetime, than anyone will ever be to anyone else.

The love you bathe him in half-sobers him and tosses him into a spiral of self-hatred. Why did it take getting drunk at Steve’s place to realize he’s been so head over heels for you he hasn’t stood up straight in years?

Drunken words sit impatiently on his tongue. He lacks the self-control to keep the hidden.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles tiredly.

Your hands almost immediately still where they bunch the covers up at his chest. Your eyes dart to his face and it takes everything in you not to duck away all over again, when you see the way he’s looking at you. 

Eddie looks so soft, basked in a soft moonlight streaming in through parted sheer curtains.

His brown eyes twinkle with stars of their own. He gazes up at you like you put them there.

He doesn’t miss the shock that coats your features. Your eyes widen in surprise of his words at first, before your brows furrow and you shake your head to yourself in denial — like you’re not deserving of them. Like you’re not standing over him in your baggy jeans and five-year-old cotton bra after he spilt his beer all over you, taking care of him because he’s too drunk to take care of himself, doting on him like it’s second nature to you.

As far as Eddie’s concerned, there’s never been a sight more beautiful than this one.

“Stop,” you manage a laugh, still swallowing down that glimmer of hope that lingers on the back of your tongue. “You’re drunk, Eds.”

“Yeah. Super drunk,” he nods unabashedly. A distant smile hints at the corner of his lips as he gazes up at you like he’s trying to commit your features to memory — the angle of your nose, the shape of your jaw, the softness of your lips, and the way you’re looking down at him like you’re wondering if he’s real or not. “And in the morning, when I’m sober, you’ll still be beautiful… I’m just gonna be too chicken shit to tell you.”

You never thought Eddie would say something like this — not something so profound it makes your heart stop and especially not to you. You always dreamed that he might. And you had nightmares that it wouldn’t. That he would utter them to someone who wasn’t you.

But here he is now, loving on you and calling you pretty and hating himself for not being able to tell you that, and you don’t know what to do.

“…Okay,” is all you can say in response, nodding your head like an idiot. You force yourself to move on quickly, focusing instead on tucking him further into the unfamiliar bed.

It’s easier than concentrating on your racing heart that ticks like a time bomb seconds away from going off.

“Thanks for taking care of me, babe,” he murmurs quietly, blinking slow and heavy up at you. “I’m sorry… I know I don’t deserve it—”

“I’ll take care of you forever, Eds. You know that,” you interject without thinking. “And you don’t ever have to apologize to me.”

Eddie lets your words settle over him like the cozy blanket you cover him with. They bathe him like warm water, prickle his skin like they’re cleansing him.

The intent behind them means more than he could ever comprehend, half-drunk or sober still.

He rises abruptly, disrupting the cocoon you’d just tucked him into, as he works with disoriented hands to peel off his shirt. “What are you doing, Eds?” he hears you laugh when his head and arms get caught in the fabric.

You help him out of it anyway, tugging the cotton over him and gaping at him when he hands the bunched up t-shirt over to you.

“Here,” he offers like you’re supposed to know what to do with it.

“…What?”

“Want you to wear it… And to go downstairs so Steve will see you in it.”

You roll your eyes though a smile plasters itself on your mouth. You slip the thing over your head and pretend it's just to appease him. It isn’t the first time you’ve worn something of his, but this time feels so much different. 

“Better?” you tease.

Eddie nods with a childlike happiness.

You’ve always been his, in your own special way, but wearing his shirt? It’s like you’re waving a big, brightly-colored flag — a lit up I’m with stupid sign with a flashing arrow pointed right at him. It makes him grin like an idiot.

“Now, go to sleep, alright? We’ll talk in the morning. When you’re so hungover you wanna die,” you joke, still perched at his bedside.

Before you rise, you lean over and press a quick peck to the tip of his warm nose. 

You want to do more than that, so much more than that, but you know that he’s still half-drunk — and that he might not mean a single word of this come sunrise.

You’ll revel in this softness now, either way it goes.

“And, for what it’s worth, I think you’re beautiful too.”

[soapoet]

How they'll confess their feelings

requested by anon.

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Shufflemancy: Hands to myself by Selena Gomez

This energy is very open and inviting. Your person is quite bold, and when they know what they want they show persistence, and adapt quickly to changing winds. They are not fazed by much and can weather any storm. They have a bit of a "won't take no for an answer" type of energy to them, but not the toxic kind. They may appear to you as somebody who doesn't take things seriously, or perhaps they are so direct in their affections and intentions you simply take it as something said in jest rather than the honest truth of their heart, something they'd say to just about anybody and therefore not for you to give much merit. They don't take themselves too seriously and have a very uplifting and lighthearted presence, which can so easily be assumed to go hand in hand with non-committal or even player tendencies. In reality, they simply enjoy keeping things light to assure those around them are having a good time and don't sweat the small things, which very well may stem from a childhood in which they served as a mediator or created distractions during rough times, aiming to always find silver lining to avoid dread and loss of hope in their loved ones. They are nurturing and protective by nature and do, in fact, know when to put their serious face on, and then they surprise all with their dependability and their ability to persevere, always coming out of things unscathed and even striving.

Their confession is direct, but places the ball in your court. They are good at marketing themselves and would make a great salesman by their persistence alone. They are confident, but not cocky, though they play on a little bit of arrogance for entertainment value. I'm hearing things such as "you're going to have to eat today anyway, so might as well get fancy with it", which holds that essence of boldness and persistence that I am picking up on so strongly. They show through actions what they have to offer, and whilst they will take a serious rejection, they're playfully pushy in this way where they don't expect anything other than the chance to treat you to a little something like a dinner and that way show you what they're made of. They certainly appreciate and enjoy a little game of cat and mouse to start with, so any initial reluctance from you that is less like rejection and more like a challenge for them to prove themselves to you is not only welcome but encouraged. They're somewhat traditional, but treat you like an equal. A major goal to them is to allow you to have a good time and not worry about things in their presence. There is a lot of laughter involved here as well, and you'll find yourself charmed by them effortlessly. It may be hard to actually pinpoint where exactly a confession occurred because their pursuit of you is ever-present from the start.

Additional details: new phone, swimming pools, wine, get togethers, stocks, business, airplanes, real estate, steak, gyms, football, wrestling, DJs, white sneakers, movie theatre, necklaces, bouquets, big family, cars/opening car doors, shopping, pranks, instagram, nail salons, entrepreneurship, beaches, pizza, Amazon, cruises, leisure, stand-up comedy, concerts, high-end brands, red, B/D/T/K/J, Libra/Gemini/Cancer/Leo.

02.

Shufflemancy: There till the end by JERUB

Quite jittery, restless energy. Your person is overcome with emotions leading up to this occasion, and the various scenarios they play out in their head trying to find the correct when and where and how make their stomach churn like they're spinning around in a carousel. They want to be bold, but perhaps it would be too risky, so they play it cool, or at least try to, only to find that their approach may actually be much too vague for you to catch on. This person is usually quite open with their emotions and easy to read. To their near and dear they are an open book and they pride themselves in their own ability to read others. They always try to cheer up loved ones and strangers alike, even when they aren't certain what to say or do they try their best. This person always seems to get back on their feet when they're knocked down, and their inner strength may come as a surprise to some because they look rather harmless and have a very bright energy about them, like the sun that so easily could be overcast. It is often said that the brightest smiles are on the faces of those who have known the greatest sorrows, and that appears to ring true with your person. Their optimism is a tool developed for survival, and has gotten them far in life. They often wield this optimism for others too, selflessly rallying behind others and their goals and dreams, and serve as the number one supporter tirelessly and try to make sure nobody feels left out in the cold.

In their attempt to find the balance between delicate and bold, they may find themselves so overcome and frustrated that they simply blurt it out. For some, they may opt for something silly or lighthearted, that is still direct, but does not feel as scary to them. They could confess via a game of hangman, or even write one of those "do you like me? yes/no" notes of bygone playground days and bruised knees. They are endearing, and I see that you two have much in common. There's a strong foundation of friendship, too, which may be their source of unrest as they wish not to ruin what you have. They may very well end up going on a tangent, blabbering on about their feelings nervously to fill the silence so much they don't give you the chance to speak before you shush them and put them at ease with the knowledge that it is mutual and they have no reason to fret and fluster so badly.

Additional details: video games, tabletop games, converse, Fruits basket, Sailor moon, slurpees and milkshakes, youtube, mismatched socks, animals, lofi, indie, grocery stores, parks, band t-shirts, empty playgrounds, bubblegum, mints, cemeteries, mason jars, art, guitars, cotton candy, thrift shops, fishing, bicycles, plushies, scrunchies, friendship bracelets, rodents and birds, small towns, nuggies, venting, Pisces/Leo/Aquarius/Scorpio/Sagittarius,J/V/S/L/N.

03.

Shufflemancy: When we're old by Ieva Zasimauskaitė

Oh dear. This energy feels like a neat and tidy office with loose papers thrown about. What happened here, I could ask, but you did. You happened. This person seemed content in the daily routines, their feet planted on solid ground, until suddenly their foundations were tested by a hurricane. Sweeping in and changing everything, you turned their life upside down. At first they may have been frightened, worried that you will surely be a problem. They could at first wish to solve you like a puzzle, only to find no corner pieces because you are ever-expanding, a fairytale with no end but many twists and turns and many pages still unwritten. They are perplexed, but oh so fascinated. You awaken wonder and awe in them, as though you came in to show them a peek of what's beyond the veil, far away from their mundane, solved, scientific, factual, proven reality. You inspire them, yet your words and ways challenge everything they know. They go through rapid growth triggered by you, and a lot of it not for the faint of heart. They are a rock amidst storms, a lighthouse keeper assuring safe passage for ships at sea, and have never quite known the depths of the sea and the crashing waves that you call home.

If you are observant, which many of you certainly are, you may notice the battles that take place inside their head even when they remain so calm and collected on the outside, and know long before they tell you just how they really feel about you. For many of you, they may find the circumstances iffy, the timing poor and unfortunate, but their feelings are as real and true as they are overwhelming. They experience many sleepless nights, and may argue with themselves, a court case as both the prosecutor and the defendant, whilst you seem to be the judge and jury and hold the key to the inevitable verdict. They may very well need a green light from you, but they will confess their feelings candidly, likely in a place only semi private for the sake of your comfort, thinking you need escape routes as they're convinced what they read off of you is a trick of their own mind and false hope that what they feel is mutual. They are gentle and cautious, try their best not to overstep any real or perceived boundaries between you. Though they hide a romantic behind their exterior, your first talk about something more between you can at first feel like an interview, as they wish to cover their bases and make sure they wouldn't waste your time or you theirs by having different directions and goals in the long-term, because the long-term is what they want. This group is the most likely to see fast engagements and marriage and other such milestones due to this clarity early on.

Additional details: spirituality, churches, meditation, sleep hypnosis or lucid dreaming, tarot, astrology, weddings, moving, soda and energy drinks, nostalgia, piercings and/or tattoos, hiking, travelling, community, helping, third party or recent breakups, to-do lists and planners, glasses, stress, cooking, purple, blue, gyms and sports, metal, journaling, blogs, text messages, tech, Leo/Virgo/Capricorn/Cancer/Pisces, E/T/K/H/A/S.

04.

Shufflemancy: Die for you by The Weeknd

This is very potent energy in comparison to the other piles. It is heavy and deep, almost suffocating but closer to a weighted blanket rather than true smothering. This person feels everything quite deeply and never seems to know how to express themselves or where to even put all these emotions, as though they always find themselves in aisle three struggling to hold all their items and wish they had just grabbed a basket upon entry. Their feelings for you creep in slow and steady like a predator stalking its prey from the tall grass, and before they know it they are met with great fear of abandonment and worry you will be swept up by another, worried that even if you were theirs you could do better. They may very well have history of poor relationships which ended in their demise, leaving their heart broken and full of trust issues. You may not even be aware of their insecurity as they carry themselves with confidence and are at ease with their peers, mix and mingle so effortlessly and appear so carefree. They have a lot of passion and take their work and hobbies very seriously. Their dedication to the things that matter most to them is remarkable and they have tenacity to push onwards regardless of any odds stacked against them, though their energy mostly comes in spurts and they require time to recharge or recompose themselves after all their sudden leaps and efforts. They may confuse you, as their devotion to you as an ally burns so bright, yet they seem to not make any moves to indicate that there is more to it. Perhaps this person is confused too, because for many it is possible that they once chose to not pursue love seriously due to past experiences, yet your presence is so stable and safe they want to so badly take a leap of faith in your direction.

This clash of desire and fear is not easy for them, and they go through a long period of denial from which they constantly find themselves slipping, always saying or doing something more than what your dynamic would call for, acting out the role of a partner out of their ease in your presence, then stepping back and fighting the current that threatens to wash them downstream to unknown territory, only to once again be lulled into this comfort you provide. They catch themselves daydreaming of a proper commited relationship with you often, but just as often they shake their head and wave those thought bubbles away. Their eventual confession is just as tumultuous as the feelings that reside within them. It could occur as a result of a heated argument, or at a time they are convinced you will leave them or hurt them and they simply fail to stop their outburst. Most will put it in a kiss before they put it in words, and there may be a lot of stressful and overwhelming emotions happening all at once for both of you as this strange and quite frankly exhausting push and pull dance reaches ots climax and comes to an end. This revelation fortunately provides instant relief to all this torture as though a kiss and whispered promises serve as morphine.

Additional details: lighters, vinyls, mesh, velvet, Lana Del Rey, Phoebe Bridgers, parties, drinking, shattered glass, bruises and hickeys, astrology and numerology, college, fwb, jealousy, cats, red, d&d, mass effect, social media, tinder, birthdays, plushies and figurines, kdramas, taboo, letters, poetry, reels, LED lights, therapy, pastries, Aries/Scorpio/Capricorn/Virgo, F/B/A/G/D.

05.

Shufflemancy: How you get the girl by Taylor Swift

It may take some time for this person to outright say anything, because their energy is as slow as it is steady. They don't make hasty decisions, and like to take their time to perfect all that they do and say. Despite this meticulous energy, they are quite light and airy. They may be quite critical of themselves, and always strive to do their best and measure up to their own, sometimes near impossible, standards. They are strong and independent, yet may have grown up within a lot of instability, which lead them to solidify into a rock so that turbulent times would not shake them as it did in the past. They have a dominance about them that is neither threatening or demanding. They carry themselves well and do not step on any toes as they go about their life achieving every goal they set for themselves. They try to learn to relax and live a little, and find it easier to do in good company. Their circles may be small and close-knit, as though they wish to keep their life private and managable, quality over quantity. They are incredibly loyal, and though they are difficult to get to know and rarely let down their guard, once you're in, you're truly in, and they would move mountains for you just as they do for everyone they hold close.

They may lack experience or confidence in love, for some they poured all their energy into their studies, careers, hobbies, or other relationships like family and friends, and decided not to force love. With you they feel comfortable and safe and may go out of their way to allocate time to spend with you every day, and they diligently remain at your disposal for anything at all should you need them. The foundation of trust and support they lay down over the course of many months and seasons changed before they dare confess what cards they hold so close to their chest provides promise of longevity and purpose for your relationship. They may confide in their loved ones for advice and encouragement before they come forward. Sitting there shuffling notes, getting up and pacing and wracking their brains for just the right words to say, but in the end their confession is just as light as ever. You may have felt for a long time that the two of you were practically dating, though without the official stamp of exclusivity, and this is what they may allude to in their confession. Words untold always on the tip of their tongue come out gently, but with certainty and with a firm hand for you to grab and hold on to. This occurs in a comfortable routine environment, something safe and predictable. Nothing lavish, nothing big and bold, no fireworks and marching bands. Just amidst your usual day to day, making it somehow unexpected and expected all at once, as though it was inevitable, but still surprising. Their confession may leave you in tears of relief or joy or shock, or a concoction of them all, yet this new chapter feels like freshly baked bread and a good morning text. So simple and sweet and natural in this simple brand of perfection of theirs.

Additional details: classical music, working out, family, wingman, salad, selfcare, psychology, puppies, car problems, 20 questions, countryside, eyeshadow palettes, phone calls or voice memos, LDR, school, lace, divorce, trauma, literature, lgbt+, trains, movie nights, floral, anxiety, politics, medication, doctor's appointments, news, red lipstick, green and beige, nature, baking, giggles, Attack on titan, Leo/Taurus/Libra/Pisces, Y/J/A/E/W.

06.

Shufflemancy: Call my name by Priest

This person will need some encouragement. Some sort of signal that their plane will land safely and is cleared for approach. Their energy is like contained chaos. Their mind is everywhere all at once, yet they appear at peace, relaxed, and so calm on the outside. They aren't surprised by the butterflies in their stomach, but have a tendency to enjoy them while they last without acting upon their feelings. Typically they expect these butterflies to fly away eventually, but it seems with you they've made a permanent home making their heart flutter every day, far beyond the usual expiration date. This surprises them, and makes them a little uneasy. They so often keep to themselves and don't bother others with their feelings or their needs, that they find themselves at a loss when they try to find the right words. Which is peculiar, as they seem to have such a way with them under any other circumstance. Always knowing the right thing to say, providing heartfelt guidance and insight at the drop of a hat when somebody needs it, known by their kindred spirits as both wise and witty. Yet this eloquence becomes a lost artform when it comes to expressing themselves and their feelings, and they feel embarrassed by their tongue-tied stutters and inability to string together a coherent sentence. Perhaps in their youth the key to their survival lied in becoming invisible and minimising their needs and blurring their boundaries. Now they go with the flow of life and may sometimes feel like an intangible being amongst solid mortals with beating hearts that to them sound so loud they couldn't possibly speak loud enough to be heard.

Their approach is careful, like a detective uncovering a crime clue by clue. They plant seeds and nurture them, hoping you will notice the tiny leaves which poke out from the dirt. They have perfected the art of dropping hints, and are looking for a signal that they are allowed and welcome to do and say more. Their pursuit of you can feel like a slowburn persuasion of you to say something first, like they're the puppeteer behind the scenes pulling strings in their favour so that confessing their secrets won't be so scary. You'll come to find the depth of their true feelings shocking. Once their walls come down and they show their vulnerability you will find them so sincere and sweet in their hopes and dreams for the two of you that you may find yourself teary-eyed. They come with the offer of dedication to waking up every day choosing to love you, actively, as a choice, keeping this promise like an oath. It's hard to pinpoint a confession here, as they weave a web, luring you in, coaxing it out of you first, or get close enough to the truth that there can be no doubt in either of you.

Additional details: childhood wounds, cereal, multiple tabs open, mobile games, distractions, true crime of haunted side of youtube/tiktok, horror movies, cold hands, dyed hair, Olivia Rodrigo, kpop, foxes, cats, blue birds, keys and keychains, beanies, venus flytrap, headphones, chips, broccoli, spicy food, books, wikipedia, reddit, ADD/ADHD, flannels, fairy lights, gaming setups, lightsabers, aviation, documentaries, persona games, nighttime, magic, netflix, Gemini/Cancer/Aquarius/Pisces/Sagittarius, K/P/V/Z/M.

[venusbby]

JHUMKAS — ITOSHI RIN.

this one's for @yuquinzel 🤞😋 i just wanted to practice some writing and i thought, why not? take this as a gift from me to you (randomly, and also since u got ur result) <3

for those who don't know what jhumkas (basically earrings) look like, the pictures are given below! (fun fact lol, the picture in the middle is me)

"they're really heavy."

"mhm."

"..don't your ears hurt?"

you burst into a laugh at the question, turning around to finally face your boyfriend, who is currently holding your different jhumkas like they're small weights.

you watch in admiration as those pretty teal eyes of his go over every single detail of the earrings, from the small pearls on one earring to the tiny, shimmering red jewels on the other.

"they are heavy, but i'm used to it." you shrug, a small smile on your face as you take a step closer to rin to get a better look at all the various colored, silver as well as gold earrings in his large hands.

"you look really good every time you wear these," rin mumbles quietly, his eyes not leaving the jhumkas at all as he lets out a soft breath. "can i.. can i choose them for you today?"

he notices the way your eyes light up and your cheeks flush when you hear him, and he can't help but talk further before you can say anything.

"and let me put them on for you too."

you stare at him with a new feeling blooming through your chest, your eyes that are lined with kajal wide in surprise. "uh, of course. okay."

that's all he needs. rin nods once, before looking back at the box full of your earrings, several compartments which have specific categories of earrings and their different sizes. he focuses only on one big section, the section filled with all the large jhumkas you have. he remembers almost all of them. the ones you bought years ago when you took him to the market, the ones you wore for the first date— the ones you were wearing yesterday.

how could he not keep track, when those jhumkas were the reason you met in the first place?

you still laugh about it to this day.

that one hang out with your friends in that cafe, the moment you bumped into him and that moment when your earring got stuck right in the material of his shirt— making you wince and keep your face close to his shoulder (where it was stuck) as you apologized and told him, "i'm so so sorry, please hold on, my earring's stuck."

who apologizes for something as simple as their earrings while looking so beautiful? only you.

rin's fingers instantly trace over those same earrings now, and he picks one up carefully.

you can't help but feel butterflies in your stomach when you remember that those are the ones you wore when you first met him, and you silently turn your face a bit to the left so he can put it on for you, your eyes frantically trying to find something to look at so you have a distraction from how close rin is now.

"relax, not gonna hurt you." his voice is quiet as he gently touches your earlobe.

"i am relaxed." you respond, gulping silently.

you feel him slowly put the earring on, feeling your right ear get weighed down a bit by the size of the jhumka. you feel his fingertips slowly brush against your neck as he brings both of his hands back to the box to get the left earring. you let out a sharp breath and blink multiple times when the distance between you both increases just for that one second.

and then he's close to you again, touching your jaw to turn your face to the right, and you feel your heart fluttering so much that you have to hold his shoulder with one hand to ground yourself as he puts on the remaining jhumka.

but this time, he doesn't move away once he's done.

he gets closer.

closer and closer, until his soft lips press against your jaw, until his nose nudges against your cheek and your jhumka makes a jingling noise at the small movement and his hands support your back as he pushes you closer to him.

"rin," you whimper, voice shaky. your heart is racing at an unimaginable speed.

he doesn't respond for a few seconds, his lips still on your jaw as his eyelashes tickle you when he flutters his eyes close and lets out a soft sigh.

"you make me so damn weak." he finally mumbles quietly against your skin. "it's impossible to resist you and your jhumkas."

the word from his mouth sounds so casual even though he has never spoken the language, but it sounds as if he's said it for all his life, and you can't stop smiling now. rin is practically hugging you in this moment, burying his face more into your neck as he can't say anything more— not when your hands are playing with his hair right now, not when you're so close. it's impossible.

[tohakumaru]

climb the stairs, the nomad is with you.

it is futile. you know this is the end. and it's quite alright, you've always been alright.

the steps are sturdy and forgiving though the hill is steep. it is not so much a struggle, but it drags. this is fine, a funny thing about time is that it passes regardless. whether you want to or not, you arrive at a lonely tree, so tall it almost eclipses the sky.

the tree has no leaves, only dry branches covered in flowers with bright red petals, from which buds of cotton-white silks burst out like stars spilling their guts over the emptiness of space.

...

this shame you live with.

that night she sleeps with her hair caked in mud

a top-shelf doll sits crossed-hand, stuffed with fluff and bone-dry eyes

passing divine judgement, you could swear its lips curl into a knife

...

with soft crackling sounds, the trees rises from sleep. it crouches towards you: branches reach out to envelope you in a wiry embrace, and lift you up. it cradles you like a mother does a child. when your head comes to rest on a barren patch on the trunk, the tree shudders: from a thin crack in the balk a flower grows and blooms. five petals like the rest, but an empty core. you look on with no resistance as a thin stalk climbs your neck, hangs over your face, and creeps into your right eye. it pulls from the socket a silver thread and attaches one end to the centre of the flower, which swirls and spins, pulling the thread from you as it does.

it dawns on you that you are being unravelled, quite literally.

for a very, very long time, you lay there and wait for sleep to come. it seems fitting, the motion of the flower-spool and the unbelievable lightness of coming undone work like a lullaby. ebbs and flows and tells you to go. it is fine, it is quite alright, even if there's nothing waiting, not even judgement. you can leave.

… and yet… you are still awake. how long must this take?

as though in answer, the flower suddenly stops spining, the tree tenses up - there is a snag in the thread. the line tangled in clumps forming a face, vaguely resembles that which was once buried in a shallow grave in your mind. this one won't go.

is this supposed to happen?

you frantically look for the nomad, but it is too far down. the panic sets in, but you don't have limbs to squirm nor mouth to scream. you are terrified. please, i will think of something, there must be a way. i am so sorry. i… i don't know what to do. i am still here. forgive me, i am scared, too. what do we do, darling? talk to me, please. what can i do?

like a bad joke, a crescent tore the night sky apart. you take a moment to make out the wicked smile of the moon - ear to ear as it begins with a theatrical cough:

"here you are!

all out of sorts, i see.

well, i did say it was your loss.

too bad, i don't want it anymore. a shame really,

could have been a nice dream.

do what you wish, bird.

i'm just a moon."

me.

and with that, the moon is gone. for good now, you can tell. then, all is still and quiet as the branches set you down, your eyes fixed on the red petals that slowly wither and fall to the ground. the tree has gone back to sleep.

the nomad stares at you. an unreadable expression spreads across its face as it slowly leans over and pushes its palm straight into your chest. you feel no pain as it opens your ribcage, and sets your lungs aside. soft fingers roaming in search. eventually, they find a tiny pair of wings clinging to your auricle and gently pluck it from your heart. in the light, the nomad…holds…

…

how ironic. we'd spoken about us at the end of the world, and i'm so sorry, darling, but i guess this is the world at the end of us.

cold, and getting harder to breathe.

as my wings flutter in the nomad's palm, i see the sky so wide. it's so cold here. i miss you, miss the aching warmth of your hunger, free falling in your heart.

once upon a time. there was a hole in your chest where i laid dying. lack of faith, the prophet diagnosed with a gesture of grandeur - no cures for it, keep praying. the fool.

there was a tunnel in your mind where your dreams bled and your scouring love leaked into the cold, cold world. help, it hurts like hell, i heard you say. could have done something about it, i didn't. i let you bleed to death, i hung you out to dry.

on top of the root-hill at the bottom of the dreaming tree, a nomad sits with a sand-eaten corpse. in its small, child-like hand, a moth takes one last breath. nothing changes in the world, but something has ended. yet, as all good nomads know, a walk doesn't end until it is home-time. nomads are neither moons nor trees, and despite their wanderings, they care very much about warm beds, good night kisses, and happy endings. the greatest nomad of all time once implied by gestures something along the line of, fuck tragedies, i've had enough, and all the other nomads thought that was a quite good point.

darling?

i love you.

this nomad then carefully tucks the moth into its breastpocket, stands up, gathers all it can of the corpse into a blanket, which is then neatly tied and slung over its back. steadily, it descends the root-hill, passes the groves of living-statues, and continues a brisk pace on its journey. just a bit more now, you'll be home before tomorrow arrives, it hums silently./

[chaikachi]

Little Red Riding Hood, The Big Bad Wolf, & The Silver Bullet

Aka I did an Oscar as The Little Prince analysis and now I wanna do one for Ruby's allusion in honour of the 10th Anniversary.

I know most if not all of us are familiar, but I'm still going to start with a summary.

Little Red is a story about a young girl in a red cloak who is sent into the woods at her mother's behest to bring baked goods to her sick grandmother. There, she meets a malicious wolf that asks her many questions, to which she answers all truthfully and without hesitation. The wolf takes this information and uses it to beat the girl to her destination where he then swallows her grandma whole and disguises himself in the woman's clothes. There he waits for the child to arrive and come closer so he can swallow her up too.

There are actually two popular versions of this story with different endings that we often look back to.

In Perrault's story, there is no happy ending. They're both eaten up, the wolf is content. The end. But in the Grimm version, there is an additional character... the Huntsman (aka the woodsman). He hears the wolf snoring after its meal and ends up cutting the beast open & saving the victims. Then, with the help of Little Red Riding Hood, he kills the wolf before it can do anymore harm.

All in all, it's a story about childhood innocence being lost, learning not to trust strangers, and being mindful to always follow the correct path. For if you stray too far, you may lose track of time, invite unwanted danger, or find yourself lost.

In RWBY, we have some very clear allusions here since it's the basis for so much of the show as a whole:

Little Red - Ruby Rose

The Mother - Summer Rose

The Grandmother - Maria

The Hunstman/Woodsman - All Three of Them

The Wolf - Salem and her Grimm (but ESPECIALLY The Hound)

They're all pretty self explanatory.

Ruby has the red cloak, her og trailer is clearly inspired by the tale, she loves baked goods, she's referred to as "Red" and "Little Red" by Torchwick & Cinder. She's also a huntress. And, by and large, her entire arc is about losing that childhood innocence and the view that life "is like a fairytale" as well as struggling with what the "right path" to follow is.

Summer is the mother (baker of cookies) and also the huntsman (slayer of giant monsters). The battle axe being her weapon choice alludes well to the alternate name, Woodsman, as well.

While Maria as the grandmother makes the most sense. Another silver eyed huntress that becomes a mentor figure for Ruby.

And while Salem, her war, & the Grimm (that are all emblematic of that loss of innocence) can absolutely symbolize the wolf... There's a reason why I want to focus on The Hound.

All three previous characters are connected by a very specific common denominator: Silver Eyes.

And the hound is no different.

Just another huntsman... but one devoured by the malice of a canine. And, if Ruby's theory is right, that's the same fate that Summer met as well.

And if you think about Silver Eyes specifically... What is one of the most famous lines from the original fairytale?

"My, what big eyes you have grandmother." "The better to see you with, my dear."

Which, when applied to the grimmification of SEWs, is HAUNTING.

Terrifying when you remember "Woah... you have silver eyes". Also thanks to Behind The Scenes content, that Ruby's hair design was always meant to "be a bit wolf-y". And that since Volume 4, Salem has been interested in capturing Ruby alive... I am WORRIED ABOUT HER.

Some interesting things about silver though that ARE worth noting...

1. "In folklore, a bullet cast from silver is often one of the few weapons that are effective against a werewolf or witch."

2. "The term silver bullet is also a metaphor for a simple, seemingly magical, solution to a difficult problem."

3. "In the Brothers Grimm fairy-tale of The Two Brothers, a bullet-proof witch is shot down by silver buttons, fired from a gun."

The lyric "Yeah I'm a girl but I'm also a gun" from Triumph really tells us point blank (lol) why Ruby is so important to this war against Salem, huh.

I'm gonna end this meta on a fun little easter egg; a hidden fifth character allusion to the original Red Riding Hood fairytale: The Woods.

Now I know what you're thinking, the woods aren't a person, they're a location. But they're INCREDIBLY important to the story.

Overall, the woods are the world outside of the cabin that Little Red grows up in. Whenever she travels beyond it, she's liable to meet all sorts of horrible tragedies and monsters. But I want to talk again specifically about The Hound & just where Ruby first meets them: Atlas.

Or, more specifically, Ironwood's kingdom.

For those unfamiliar, while Jimmy's main allusion is the Tin Man from Oz, his last name gives us a hint to another subtle allusion: Járnviðr. Aka the Iron Wood of Midgard in Norse Mythology (a mythos that's been alluded to a lot in RWBY).

Whiiich if you look at a stanza (40) in the infamous Völuspá, a historic poem which is chalk full of Norse myths, you get the following passage:

In the east sat an old woman in Iron-wood and nurtured there offspring of Fenrir a certain one of them in monstrous form will be the snatcher of the moon

A poem that talks all about the Biggest Baddest Wolf of the Norse pantheon, Fenrir... who is the offspring of a powerful Witch...

and is destined to eat the moon...

All within the Iron Wood, a character Ruby spends an entire volume contemplating on whether or not she can trust...

And the moment she does finally tell Ironwood the truth? The secrets she was keeping? The woods become unsafe, the witch and the wolf appear, and everything else falls apart. Resulting her and her team lost and very far from home.

Say what you want about analyses like these but CRWBY knows what they're doing, okay?

[mrs-snape5984]

“As long as I'm with you, I've got a smile on my face…”

“Save your tears, it'll be okay. All I know is you're here with me…” (“Here with me” by D4vd)

Suffering from ME/CFS makes me feel like my whole world is falling apart in front of my eyes. Since I’ve already lost so much joy and so many abilities due to this devastating disease, my continuing loss seems to increase even further.

As some of you might know, do I love to write my own stories about Severus and Julia just as much as I enjoy using my tumblr blog as some kind of journal, whenever I’ve commissioned another artwork. It’s my way of rolling out a red carpet for the artists of Snapedom…it’s my way of honouring them for their talent in their profession. Commissioning those amazing people and letting them make my ideas and fantasies come to life, is my very own manner of coping with my physical and emotional pain.

And now, this coping mechanism seems to crumble into pieces as well as everything else, that I’ve already lost! It hurts me to admit, that my brain fog takes advantage of my capability to create vivid images with my words. My thoughts are getting blurry and chaotic. I’m struggling to find the right words to express my emotions (it’s even worse in my native language German than in English!!)…and this scares me to hell!

My mind was the only place, where I could find some shelter from my infuriating and terrifying reality of losing myself to ME/CFS. What if I forfeit my only - just barely existing- talent now?? How should I flee this nightmare of existence if writing wouldn’t be an option anymore?! How should I express my gratitude towards all those marvellous artists of Snapedom, who are all weaving my emotional comfort blanket with each piece of their art?!?

I don’t want to give up on my writing…and I won’t…even though my pride would probably fade away with each badly written chapter of my fictions…and with each unworthy post on my blog. I must admit, that I’m already acknowledging the loss of quality. 🥺

I found an inspiring poem about the importance of staying resilient, no matter how difficult the hardships of life might become, and I want to share it with you:

"KEEP GOING" (Better known as "DON'T QUIT") by Edgar A. Guest

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will, When the road you're trudging seems all uphill, When the funds are low and debts are high, And you want to smile but have to sigh.

When care is pressing you down a bit, Rest, if you must, but DON'T YOU QUIT!

Life is queer with its twists and turns, As everyone of us sometimes learns, And many a failure turns about,

When he might have won if he'd stuck it out, Don't give up though the pace seems slow, You might succeed with another blow.

Often the struggler has given up, When he might captured the victor's cup.

And he learned too late, when the night slipped down, How close he was to the golden crown,

Success is failure turned inside out, The silver tint on clouds of doubt, And you never can tell how close you are, It may be near when it seems afar,

So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit, It's when things seem worst that you mustn't quit.

My dear @mmad-lover, I can’t stress enough how grateful I am for your dedication to this stunning piece of art and believe me, it was worth every single second of waiting! Paula, I was incredibly touched to hear, that my request seemed to be something special, something personal to you. I can assure you, that, indeed, all of my ideas have a profound meaning to me and I’m glad that you’re such an empathetic person, who sensed that particular importance of your art to me. Your devotion to this drawing is palpable in every single detail, every line of your brushes. You created exactly the mood, that I wished for Severus and Julia. It doesn’t matter that the world is burning to the ground around them, they will always have each other’s backs! Just like I’m relying on Severus for more than 21 years now. Thank you for everything, you precious soul! I’m glad that I met you and I hope, we’ll stay in touch. 🥹

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[rwbyrg]

What Inspired the Fairytale: Warrior in the Woods as a Rosegarden Allusion

I've broken down Ruby as Little Red Riding Hood, and Oscar as the Little Prince, now I want to analyze the two of them within a canon fable. The very first story within RWBY: Fairytales of Remnant: The Warrior in the Woods.

For those who are unfamiliar with it, I will summarize, or you can read it in the official free preview of the book here. One disclaimer before I get started: I'm not speaking about the animated adaptation here. Something Oz mentions in his fore/afterward of the book is that fairytales often shift and change depending on who it is that's telling the story. The book itself seems to aim to tell the most objective version as possible, whereas in the episode of FToR, it's very clear Tai's experiences and biases greatly influences the way he tells the story. With that out of the way...

The story is about a boy who lives in a village surrounded by a forest that is said to protect its residents from Grimm. One day, the boy ventures into the wood further than anyone would think to look for him. There he is attacked by a monster, the first he has ever seen... Only to be saved at the last minute by a cloaked warrior carrying a curved weapon. He thanks her and asks for her name, but she tells him to leave and not return. He doesn't listen. Every year since the day of their first meeting, he ventures further into the wood hoping he will meet his saviour again. And every time, he is proven right when she shows up and saves him at the last minute. Each year, the boy grows older and wiser, training himself how to fight, bringing the woman gifts as thanks for protecting the village alone and without appreciation all these years. Until one day, the village is attacked by Grimm for the first time in ages. On their next planned meeting, the boy - now a man - fights his entire way through the forest to the hut where she lives, and finds it torn apart and empty. He returns home and tells the villagers her story having taken up the mantle of protecting his people in her place. When asked if he kept going back to see her just because she saved him, he replies (paraphrased): "For that reason, and many more. But I believe she knew the deepest reason of all. I fell in love with her the moment I saw her silver eyes."

Even the summary alone paints a picture very reminiscent of Ruby and Oscar's paired arc throughout the show thus far, but I want to break it down even further. First things first:

The Warrior

She is described as "a fair woman in a flowing (threadbare and tattered) black cape" with a "curved blade" she can spin so quickly it "blurs". Her hair is "almost as dark as the Grimm's, white (ones) standing out as brightly as bone", and in the boy's eyes the first time he sees her, remarks that she is "beautiful and fierce". We know by the end of the story, as well as one of the Grimm fights, that she has silver eyes as well and she tells the boy at one point that she fights alone because she is alone, since all the people like her were killed by other humans. This lines up well with how Silver Eyed Warriors have been hunted by Salem and her forces for generations.

When we compare this to Ruby when Oscar first meets her, it hits all the same marks. He is captivated by her silver eyes the moment he first meets her:

She is fair skinned with black hair (if you include the books illustrations, with a reddish tint), has silver eyes, and a torn and tattered cloak.

There is a point at which the woman also ties a red ribbon around her weapon's handle to hold it in place, which immediately acts as a tie in to Ruby's colour scheme.

Lastly, the boy meets the warrior for the first time in a "moonlit clearing". And we all know how much moon imagery Ruby has associated with her by now, that I really don't have to go over it again.

The Village Boy

There are no photos or descriptions of him within the text, just that he is a boy when we first meet him and is a man by the end of the story after visiting the woman annually 4-5 times. So he is roughly 14, aka the same age as Oscar, for both their first appearances.

What we do know about the boy, is shown in the objects he carries for himself and the gifts he imparts onto the woman in the woods.

The first is a parcel of clothing. It includes some blouses, leggings, a black skirt, some boots... and a new hooded green cloak. Ruby's cloak is red, but as we know both in show with ships like Bumbleby, and thanks to Eddy's bit of trivia in that Reddit AMA a while ago, that wearing the colours of people you care for is a common sign of affection within Remnant. Within this story, the woman dons a cloak in a green colour (something heavily associated with Oscar Pine), whereas within RWBY in V6, it is Oscar who dons Ruby's colour on his shoulders in his outfit upgrade.

The second is the sword the boy forges for himself before their third meeting. It is described as long and thin which immediately calls to mind The Long Memory.

From there, the next gift: a bag full of food.

"She opened the bag and pulled out parcel after parcel. There was honey cake, a strawberry tart, and sweet biscuits. When she unwrapped a stack of fresh-baked cookies, her expression lightened, and her happiness made him happy."

The first bolded example: strawberries are cited by Monty as Ruby's favourite food, and as we know by Ruby's first meeting with Ozpin (which is important given his connection to Oscar), she's a big fan of cookies too.

Now that all the aesthetics and symbolism are out of the way, I want to compare the structure of the two stories.

Separation and Reunions

The Warrior in the Woods, as well as Ruby and Oscar's arc throughout the show (as well as The Little Prince) are stories of absences.

The boy starts his tale without the woman in his live for many years before he meets her. When they do meet, it is for only a moment within a day until they must wait another full year before seeing each other again. When they do meet, at least the first 3 times, the warrior saves him from Grimm attacks. Then, at the 4th time, he runs into no obstacles and is able to sit and talk with her without incident, only for her to disappear shortly before their 5th visit, leaving him to take up her job of protecting the village.

Ruby spends the first 4 volumes of the show not knowing Oscar, but when they meet he, just like the village boy, is in awe of her silver eyes. From there, she saves him from Grimm twice (I imagine we are holding out on the third where she saves him with her silver eyes for a volume we haven't received yet)...

...and they are faced with constant separations and reunions thereafter.

Oscar goes missing in V6E8 only to be reunited with everyone in V6E9...

2. They are separated for much of V7 due to disagreements and other external circumstance, only to reunite and make up in V7E9...

3. They are then immediately split up again, one going down to Mantle and the other staying in Atlas, only to reunited at the beginning of V8E1 (suspiciously after Oscar stares into a fire much like the boy at the end of the story).

4. It is short lived before they split up on different teams AGAIN, which leads to another reunion in V8E10...

5. Only to - you guess it - be separated one more time when Ruby falls into a void, leaving Oscar to think that she died and take charge as the new leader carrying her responsibilities in her place.

Which follows the structure of the original fairytale - at least in numbers - down to the letter.

Beyond that structure, there is also the matter of what both relationships are built upon: the act of taking care of one another.

In the book, the woman explains that she protects the villagers "because she can, because no one else will, and because some people are good, like the village boy, and that gives her hope".

This heavy responsibility the warrior carries is very reminiscent of Ruby's character arc. A leader who feels she can't be a failure, who can't rely on her friends and teammates to share how much this all weighs on her, someone that lost all her silver eyed family and fears for her own fate because of a trait she had no control over. Even going so far as to try and push people away for fear they will end up hurt because of her. Someone that "remembers all the people she saved, and all the ones she didn't".

This is juxtaposed by a boy who was sheltered and safe, far from the dangers of the world, but set out and joined hers anyway. And when he did, he brought her new clothes, a new weapon, some food, and an ear she could tell her stories to. When he explains his motives, he says:

"You've spent all these years looking after us. I thought maybe it would be nice if someone looked after you for a change. Because that's what I can do. Because no one else will."

Which ties into Oscar's character exactly as well. After his conversation with Ruby in V5 about how scary all of this is, his first thought after saying she's amazing, is to acknowledge how hard this must be on her. And from then on out we see him looking after her to the best of his ability, despite his inexperience, time and time again. Protecting her when she's hurt, standing up for her when their friends fight, and baking her a casserole after she's had a tough day.

All of these things tie into what Ozpin cites as the main message of the fairytale in his notes at the end of its chapter:

It is often used as a cautionary tale, intended to discourage children from wandering too far from home on their own, or from relying too much on others to save them. But the most enduring, and I think the most inspiring, aspect of this story is one which many have taken to heart: If you can help others, it is your responsibility to do so. Whether that means fighting evil singlehandedly, or baking cookies (for kindness can be as rare as silver eyes) is up to the reader to decide for themselves. From each according to their own abilities.

Ruby and Oscar are two characters driven by their responsibilities to do something about all the bad in the world, in whatever ways they are able, before they run out of time. While Ruby's main allusion is Little Red and Oscar's is the Little Prince, I think it's really inspiring to see a canon fairytale within RWBY's own universe that relates to their story so well as this one.

[abridgerton]

My Duty, My Honor {Reader x Anthony}

Part 1/?

Word Count: 1.5k+

Triggers: Kissing, suggestive talk, forced marriage

Summary: Lily Wickham was caught with Anthony in a secret rondevouz in the garden, leaving her and the rakinsh Viscount no choice but to get married - even if she detests him.

A/N: Hello! I adore writing for Anthony, and I particularly like where this story is going - so please, if you enjoy reading this, please let me know that it would be worth writing a part two!

~ Sometimes, when I close my eyes I can imagine myself in a world where I am free; someplace where I am not bound to my duty or my family. To love freely with whom I choose - to find happiness in my other half. Oh, I long for the day I find romance and acceptance; for the first time in my life I shall know joy ~

My hopeful dreams of a love match have disappeared entirely as of last night. The Viscount Bridgerton asked for my hand in marriage two twilights ago, and upon the insistence of my mother, I accepted.

When I was a young girl I entertained myself with fantasies of my prince charming - a gallant man who would sweep me off my feet and carry me into the sunset; a man who was decorated with manners and grace, a man who I would be proud to father my children. Viscount Bridgerton is far from what I had in mind. Perhaps my disdain for him stems from the wild cowlick hair that stands up off the back of his head, or that annoying purr in his voice when he speaks.

"Lydia," he panted in agony, "we should not be here..." His shimmering green eyes momentarially connected with mine, as he ran his devilishly dark irises along the length of my body - up and down before landing on my lips, and planting a soft kiss. I have never known such bliss, or such rebellion. Something about the impertinence made him so .. exciting. Anthony was the forbidden fruit, and I could not help but take a bite.

"Something about his arrogant countenance displeases me," I thought as I sat near the foot of my bed, staring at the gold trimmed white wall in front of me. To my right, on the nearby wall sat my families tapistry, woven from the finest gold, green, and red threads my ancient family could source. It displayed my families crest - an ornate display of leopards and snakes intertwining a large shield engraved with the family name, Wickham.

This tapestry was purposefully placed in my chambers as a permanent reminder of my duty to the family. No matter the circumstance, it is my duty to populate my family line - and I must do so by marrying well. As far as Viscount Bridgerton goes, he is head of the wealthiest estate in the county. Though I disapprove of him, I cannot deny the advantages of giving him my hand - a sizeable dowry for my future daughters, a place in society, an esate to own; oh, this life would be any womans dream.

Sometimes , late at night when I'm alone , I envision myself as Viscountess and head woman of the Bridgerton house; I will not jest, the idea of such prestige is a pleasant one. The union would bring me a new wardrobe, fine carriages, and luxury beyond anything I have ever known.

Marriage to this rakish man is my one chance of living in such splendor. Why must it he him that I marry? Why could Colin have not been first born? Or Benedict? Why Anthony?

I would rather resign my life away to an artist or a nomad than a man of such disgusting hubris. Nonetheless, I am the first born daughter of my family, and thus I must secure my position. After all, I will be the one responsible for paying their dowries and assimilating them into society.

What a terrible burden.

"Madam?" My ladies maid loudly called out from behind my chamber room door, "it is time to be dressed."

"Already?" panic resounded through my head, "I'm not ready..."

Despite my internal doubts, I beckoned my ladies maid to join me. As she entered the room, I noticed an emerald green silk gown with silver embellishments sprawled across her arms. I had never seen this gown before, a genuine suprise to me.

"Where did you get this?" I asked the ladies maid in an accusatory tone.

She waited to respond, continuing to lay the wrinkles out on the dress - but after a few beats she met my eyes for a moment, "It was picked up today from the modiste," she answered in a flat tone, "I'm told it was a rush order."

This response was shocking at first, for I did not know my mother was already arranging my marriage wardrobe. It is true - the Viscount and I had a whirlwind romance; it had not even been two weeks after we met that we were declared to be married. It had all happened so quickly that night in the garden ...

I remember the way his fair skin shone in the ambient starlight - his radience illuminating the vines around the garden wall - and the way the flowers around us smelled after the fresh rain that evening. He bewitched me with just one flash of that charming smile, just one glance with him was enough to break down my walls and give myself to him. "You are utterly breathtaking," he whispered into my ear, the heat of his breath warming the full of my lips, "I cannot control myself ..." Even the memory was intoxicating - ruining my head all over again.

It was only a kiss. Just one.

Thats all it took.

Now I will be Viscountess Bridgerton - what a terrifying thought.

I wish so terribly that Mrs. Featherington had not been out for a promenade that night. I wish we would have chosen the library, or the closet, or anywhere more discreet ... but the garden? What were we, animals?

My daydreaming was swiftly interrupted once again by a hughty womans voice, "Ma'am" my maid beckoned, "we really must begin.."

I loudly huffed, forced to remember that my time is never truly my own. "Right," I replied, "we must be going soon." She nodded with me in agreement.

With a heavy sigh, I positioned myself in front of my bed post, and grabbed hold-

"Breathe out!" my maid shouted, "Suck in!" she barked, and I did as I was told. She pulled the laces tighter, and tighter around my chest until I was sure my ribs would snap. What would society say then? Would they say I was unfit to marry due to injury? Perhaps I could befall some tradgedy, so I may spare Anthony and I the impending disaster of this match ...

-she began to work on my hair. I watched as she pinned my long stands of platinum blonde hair into an updo upon the crown of my head. She separated thin locks of my hair into tight spirals, exposing the back of my neck and freeing my shoulders from the weight of my hair. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I could see the uncertainty written across my features as plain as day. What if he changed his mind and left me jilted? What if we truly were miserable together? Would I be able to love him?

Ouch! I gasped as my maid mistakingly nicked my scalp with a starp hairpin. She immediately recoiled and appologized, "Oh, I'm so sorry! I did not mean to be so careless-"

I met her eyes in the mirror and cut her off, "It's fine, Mary," I let out a small exhale and looked down at the wooden floor below by vanity, "just continue, please." Mary nodded and swifty began pinning my hair again.

I hate the fuss and the frills and the dancing that is expected of a lady. Its all so ... dramatic! Why should I be forced to ready myself for hours to be considered presentable to society? Why should I not be given the privilege of skipping out on events of the ton like my brothers?

As much as these questions bothered me, I could not focus on them for too long. Mary had finished my hair and powder, which meant I was officially ready to be transported. Mary placed her hand gently on my right shoulder - just next to the lace trimming of my dress, and spoke, "M'lady, its time." I rose from my chair with a grim expression and began straigntening out the front of my dress.

I could not let the Viscount see me in such a distressed state.

"One. Two. Three," I counted slowly, "inhale, exhale .."

"Okay," I said to Mary, "I think I'm ready."

She turned to me and smiled with her dark lips curled into a delicate smirk and her eyebrows tightly drawn. Perhaps she saw the desprate look on my face, or the small bead of sweat forming on my brow, because she felt the need to remind me of my duty.

"You know what you must do," Mary whispered as she grabbed my hands, "you know what must be done."

Her words awoke something in me - something dutiful and ancient. Like my mother, and her mother, and back and back and back, I would marry well and secure my position for my future children.

Though these things were true, I might as well have been walking to the gallows. This was the end of my feedom; my secret horseback rides at dawn, lonesome walks into town, silent nights - these would all be stolen from me within the confines of marriage. My life would never be my own.

One stolen moment in the garden left me bound to a man I could not detest more. The heavens must be frowning upon be in this moment.

[seenoversundown]

For Death Or Glory : Chapter Four

Jake x Charlotte (Fem OC)

Warnings: Mentions of Death / Grief, Drinking, Sad / Anxious Themes, Shitty Dates, Potential spoilers for a rom-com that came out in 2006, brief conversation involving sex (very tame if you read fanfic regularly) and a tiny little taste of what's about to happen next week.

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary : Charlotte has the most unfortunate day ahead of her, but remembering fondly on better times helps her make it through. As one would say; the world works in mysterious ways.

Author's Note: I'm going to be so for real with you, I know the premise of this chapter is a bit on the heavier side. BUT- with that said, I did my best to not make it too difficult to read. I hope you enjoy learning a little more about my favorite red-haired beauty. 🧡 (There's very few HEAVY chapters in The Caravel Tavern Series and sadly, Ms Charlotte has at least 2 of them)

Portland Maine - Donovan Woods "Leave your bags in the car, keep it running, I won't pretend, That I won't miss this."

I never knew what people meant when they said they felt numb until today. It feels like I hardly slept last night, but I did end up lying in bed for a while this morning. After I convinced myself to get up, I reluctantly made some coffee, took a shower, blew out my hair, and made it look presentable again. 

I’m sitting in front of my mirror with all my makeup splayed out in front of me. Carefully clipped my hair back so I didn’t mess up the loose waves I spent time working on. I look at myself, taking a deep breath; my under-eyes are dark from the lack of sleep. God, I don’t want to do this. 

I slowly work through my makeup routine, pausing every so often to fight back the tears that threaten to fall. With every step, I look more and more like a normal person. I set my mascara tube back into its place, taking a second to look at how everything looks. I hold a breath, closing my eyes gently as it leaves my body.   

And then there I stood in my closet, staring at all the options. Choosing an outfit is usually a highlight of my day, but today was certainly not one of those days. I still haven’t said it out loud; it makes it too real. I never thought I would be in a position where I had to mourn a friend, a best friend. My best friend. 

Unfortunately, accidents happen, and generally speaking, I handle those well. I am not doing well in this specific instance, but she would want me to go stun at her service. The thought makes me laugh, even in the midst of the saddest time. 

I can hear her in my head, yelling, “Lottie! If you don’t wear a bomb pantsuit, I’ll haunt your ass!” I let out a small laugh at the thought. She always has a way of doing that. I pull out some tapered black pants, a black cotton T-shirt, and a blazer, I feel like she’d be happy with this, I think to myself as I put on the gold necklace she bought me.  

Checking myself one more time in the mirror, “Okay, I think I’m ready,” I mumble to myself. I grab my bag and my keys and head out. 

The drive feels surreal. It’s something that nobody is ever prepared for, and as much as I know that, I really thought I would be better at this. Trying to focus on anything besides the situation, I have the music turned up insanely loud, the window is cracked for fresh air, and I’m sipping on the coffee I brought. I enjoy the scenery as best as I can, trying to find the silver lining on this day. Thankfully, the weather isn’t terrible today, so there’s… something. I just embrace the feeling of the sun on my skin with the cool autumn breeze. 

I pull into the parking lot, shut off my car, and just stare at the building with others dressed in all black wandering in. I take a minute to just sit here, mentally preparing myself for the service. I won’t pretend that I won’t miss her, but in my head, she’s never really gone. She would be yelling, ‘Your ass is stuck with me for life.’  I let out a small laugh at the thought. 

I look up at the sky as I walk towards the door, “You’re lucky I love you so much,” I whisper to myself, and her, before grabbing the door handle to the funeral hall.  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

3 Months Ago..

I carefully walk back into my living room, handing one wine glass over to her. She quickly cheers my glass as I go to sit down. I take a little sip before setting it on a coaster. 

“What are we cheers-ing?” 

“Actually getting to hang out, for once!” 

Truth be told, I can be a pain in the ass to plan time with. I spend a lot of my time working and ignoring my personal life. Not the healthiest habit, now is it Char?  

“I’m the worst. I’m sorry,” I cringe as I pull up Netflix. 

She laughs loudly, something I’ve always loved about her, “at least you’re self-aware.” 

“I’m choosing to pretend you didn’t agree,” I scroll over to our favorite movie, “shall we?” 

I don’t know why we became so attached to John Tucker Must Die, but now it’s almost a tradition to watch it if we have a night together. Maybe it’s because we both have had our fair share of terrible men in our lives or because we have bonded over the hatred of a single person. Regardless, we make it a point to always watch it when we have the chance. 

“So, are you still seeing that one dude?” She asks, a half smirk on her face. 

I can’t tell her fast enough, “Oh GOD, no. Never again.”

“He seemed a bit.. boring.”

“He had ZERO personality. About as exciting as the fourteen tan suits that he owns,” I feel a little bad making fun of him, but my god, he was dreadful. 

“He was also mid in bed.. and that’s giving him credit.” I shrug, taking a sip of my drink to hide my smile. 

“LOTTIE!” 

“CASSIE!” 

We both laugh until tears are falling down our faces. 

“I’m sorry!” I giggle, “But you shouldn’t start things you can’t finish.” Covering my mouth because I also can’t believe I said that. 

“Amen, girl!” 

We’ve spent most of our adult lives confiding in each other about everything. Every new job, family drama, bad date. We both know the ins and outs of each other’s sex lives because sometimes it’s so humorous that you have to tell someone. 

The two of us have been close since we met at our first job in high school. Dairy Queen wasn’t the most exciting place to work, especially during summer break, because you just can’t get the smell of melted ice cream out of your clothes. After countless shifts working together, we bonded and inevitably started talking outside of work. Realizing quickly that we were incredibly different, but it also made it fun. I kept her focused when it was busy, and she helped me to loosen up when we weren’t on the clock. 

“Have you tried just meeting someone organically? Or are you ‘too busy’ ?” She says the second half in a mocking tone. 

I roll my eyes quickly, “My job just takes up a lot of time, so dating apps seem to be easiest.” 

“I know you’re going to hate this, but,” she starts, “it’s just a job, babe. You’re allowed to take time for yourself or, in this case, to find someone.” 

“No, I know.. I just-” 

She cuts me off, “There’s no ‘I just’ anymore, girl. You’ll burn yourself out on this job if you don’t make time for yourself.” 

I put both of my hands up to surrender, “Okay, you’re right.” We both sink back into the couch and giggle through the rest of this ridiculous movie. 

Cassie is a free spirit, something I wish I could learn to be. She always had a positive approach to things, not in the sickeningly sweet way, either; just genuinely, she saw the good in the world. She did not care about other people’s opinions; she wore whatever she wanted, followed her dreams, and did whatever she wanted. 

It was always funny to me when we were out in public together. Her outfits were always fun and colorful, and she wasn’t afraid to try new things. Then there’s me, borderline-looking professional at any given point. I love neutrals and looking put together. Maybe it was just to give the front that I knew what I was doing, but nonetheless, I enjoyed a pantsuit. People would always watch her. She’s beautiful, to be fair, but how she carries herself is incredible.

She is really the only person I consistently keep up with. We text each other from the moment we wake up until someone passes out, usually waking up to a bunch of things unread from the early hours of the morning. Nothing would stop us from staying close, though, not even going to different colleges, having entirely different careers, or living two hours apart. 

Watching Kate throw cake at John will never not make us hard-laugh; he deserved every ounce of it. Both of us are kicking our feet over Scott, coming around to be her lab partner again, and calling her perfect. Ugh, he’s an angel. 

“Y’know, Lottie,” she giggles, “Maybe you just need to find a Scott of your own.”

Sitting up from my corner of the couch, “What do you mean?”

“Well, let’s be honest here. You always go for the John type.. Maybe you need a Scott.” 

I can’t deny that I tend to go for that type, but I have my reasons. Because you’re a bit neurotic..? Excuse me? I just know what I like and don’t like. 

“You’re not wrong.”

“Just give it a try,” her voice changing into a more empathetic tone, “Stop thinking yourself out of happiness for once.” Her hand landed on mine, giving it a double pat before looking back up at me. 

“Alright, alright.” I can’t deny that she could be onto something. I’m just bad at accepting change. “If I run into someone who is giving ‘Scott’ vibes, I will give it a shot. But I’m not making any promises that it’ll work.” 

She lets out a feral squeal, “Oh my god, I can see it now! Some kind-hearted, nerdy, long-haired man just sweeping you off your feet!” She falls over dramatically with her hand on her forehead, like a Victorian woman in a silk robe falling onto velvet sofas. We fall into a fit of giggles as she tells me her entire vision of what my life could become. 

“You just deserve a man who’s as much of a hopeless romantic as you are,” she says through a laugh. 

“Hey now! Just because I read romance doesn’t mean that I’m a hopeless romantic.”

“Lottie, I don’t know who you’re trying to convince here.” 

I hate it when she’s right. I do have a soft spot for romantic things. Something about finding the right person at the right time, just feels like it only happens in books or movies. Meeting the love of your life by chance feels so foreign in our time, because everything is through dating apps and the internet. 

“I just don’t think I’ll find a man who compares to any of the love interests in my books, you know? I have to stay realistic, Cass.” 

She rolls her eyes at me, “I’m sure one exists out there. You just need to open your eyes more. Stop dating Finance Bros,” she barks out a laugh, “They are definitely not written by women nor do they know how to treat one.” 

“Ugh.. I know you’re right,” I confess, “I don’t even know how to meet people organically.” Dramatically throwing myself back onto the couch, covering my eyes with my hands. 

“We will get you all dolled up and hit the Old Port one of these weekends,” she pulls me back up, “I’m sure we can find you a man in one of those bars. You’re too sexy– there’s no chance you won’t catch a few looks.”

My face hot instantly at her compliment, “As long as you approve of him, I’ll do it. That’s the agreement from now on.” She sticks her hand out, taking mine and rapidly shaking it. 

“Yes, yes, yes! This is what I’ve been dreaming of!” she hollers through my apartment, “I get to turn my shy little Lottie into someones WIFE!”  

We’re a few glasses of wine deep at this point. 

“So I went on a date with this guy,” Cassie starts, struggling to hold in her laugh, “I wish I could explain to you how bad.” 

“Oh god, PLEASE.” 

“The first red flag that I so nicely ignored was that he didn’t even dress cute! He wore sweatpants, girl,” both of us borderline screaming at the statement. 

“Also, his name is Jeff,” she cringes. “I feel like I should have KNOWN.” 

I finally cave, “What actually happened on the date?” 

“Literally nothing. He only like half listened to me, we went to a bar with TVs and he was fully focused on whatever sport was on.” Rolling her eyes as she tells me. 

“That’s SO annoying!”

She took a sip of her wine and swallowed it quickly, “HONESTLY— I even had the girls out, trying to look a little cuter than normal.”

“Well, that’s terrible that it didn’t work out. I’m sure you looked way too hot for him anyway.” She literally looks hot all the time, he’s a fool to not notice that. 

Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, “Oh girl, I still invited him back.”

“CASS-“ I scream. 

“Hey— sometimes you just need to get laid!” She says matter of factly. 

“I guess I can’t argue that.. he couldn’t have been very good?” 

“Oh god- he literally didn’t even try to take control. A whole pillow princess if I’ve ever met one.” 

I can’t stop the scream that escapes me, making her laugh with me. 

After she comes to, “It’s okay, at least I know my way around. Still managed to get off even if it was looking like I had a small window before it was done.” 

“How fast did he leave after?” I have to ask. 

“Oh, he ran out of there. Definitely is just looking to get his dick sucked, nothing serious.” 

“Well, for your sake, hopefully, it was worth it.” 

After a few more hours, we fell asleep on my couch. It was a pretty typical situation for us. We just get so caught up in giggling and being around each other that we lose track of the time. We would always take advantage of the times we get to actually hang out since they were becoming less frequent. 

We spent the morning sipping coffee together before she needed to head back home. She pulled me into a hug, swaying me back and forth for a minute before getting into her car. 

“I love you, Lottie!” 

“I love you too,” I tell her, “Let me know when you make it home, okay?” ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The sun feels good on my skin; I’ve been sitting in my car with the door open for 20 minutes. The slight breeze made it so it wasn’t too warm, just baking in the sun. Her service was beautiful, and the room was full of people there to celebrate how wonderful of a person she was. I couldn’t have asked for anything better except to have her here instead. 

Decompressing before I decide what to do next since I’m already in the city She would tell me to do some retail therapy to get my mind off of it, which is honestly sounding pretty good right now. She was always good at talking me down when I got into my head about something. Even if it was just trying to make me laugh because she knew that I was being dramatic about whatever it was. 

 I grab my phone out of my bag to see if I can convince myself to spend some money irrationally for a small dose of serotonin. 

Jacob: Hi there. I have been trying to get through this paperwork and I think I’m just lost on what I need to be doing. I don’t know if you are nearby and want to stop in or you can literally just call me that’s also fine. I just don’t want to mess things up again. Let me know whichever works for you.

I mull over the options of working right now or shopping; unfortunately, I know what my body is going to end up doing. I can’t not help him, especially since he was so nice to me about the whole thing anyway. I swipe out of my texts, pulling up maps and typing in the address. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Even just driving through Portland felt weird now. It was always the two of us; C2 is what we call ourselves. Even if she always called me ‘Lottie,’ leaving people confused most of the time. She lived nearby, so the biggest reason for me to come here was her. We would usually end up ordering takeout and camping out on her couch, but on the rare occasion, we would go to the Old Port for drinks. Never remembering much past midnight though, I can’t imagine how ridiculous we looked. I really hope nobody ever saw us.

I park down the street from the bar, giving myself a minute to mentally prepare. The clock in my car shows 3:15 pm; this shouldn’t take too long. Hopefully, I can get home before it’s too dark. I open my bag, seeing the ‘in memoriam of Cassandra..’ sticking out. I pull it out, looking at the photo of her on the front. 

“You look good, Cass,” my throat tight as I whisper it into the quiet of my car, “I miss you so much.” I take a deep breath, fighting the urge to cry again. Get it together; you need to be professional. 

I set it down on the passenger seat, not wanting it to get crumpled up in my bag. I grab my phone and start walking to the bar. I really hope it’s quiet in there since it’s so early in the afternoon. The quicker I help him, the sooner I can get out of this city. 

I pull open the door to the bar, but only a few people are scattered throughout. Perfect, this should be smooth sailing. I walk towards the bar as Jacob turns around, pulls out his phone, and then disappears behind the bar quickly. It’s hard to deny that he’s a handsome guy, but it still catches me off guard that he is the owner of this place. 

“I didn’t think I would see you today,” is all I can really hear as he drops down, aside from the sounds of rustling paperwork. I can hear the vague sounds of his mumbling, but nothing is clear. I set my bag on the barstool next to me, deciding to not sit down just in case it’s a quick question. He stands back up, his eyes finding mine. He’s quiet for a moment, what feels like forever, as his face falters and his eyes scan all over me. Don’t ask me, don’t ask me, don’t ask me.  Watching as his eyebrows pulled together, I knew exactly what was about to happen. 

He asked me that godforsaken question, “Are you okay?” in his soft, raspy voice. Shit.  It felt like a punch to the gut, leaving me winded. I’ve avoided the question for two weeks because I knew the moment someone asked, it wouldn’t go over well. I really can’t even fault him for asking. If anything, it’s sweet that he noticed that something was off.

I breathe in slowly, feeling the prick of tears in my eyes again. Trying to muster up everything in me to answer confidently. For the love of God, don’t cry. 

“Um,” my shaky breath comes out as my voice fails me. Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, barely above a whisper. No, I’m not. Who am I kidding? My heart pounds in my chest despite feeling like it’s shattered. The silence between us felt like forever until I heard a door opening.

We both look over quickly, seeing Josh come around the corner before Jacob comes out from behind the bar. Grabbing my bag and placing his hand on my back, he guides me towards his office. He lets me into the small room first and sets my bag on the chair before turning to me. Oh no. The way his eyes are full of worry as they meet mine; I pull my hands up to hide my face, unprepared for my emotions to betray me. 

A sob escapes me, louder than I would have liked. My chest aches. The sound of the door shutting was immediately drowned out by the feeling of his arms pulling me into him, his hand holding my head gently against him before he whispered the words that I knew would haunt me. 

“Oh, honey.” 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Chapter Three

Next Chapter

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[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Malleus's enchantment on Lilia's gag glasses definitely wouldn't work on his own grandmother, would it? XD

Maleficia "There you are, Lilia. I was only just conversing with your human child on your whereabouts. It has been long since I have last seen you, my most trusted— What... are you wearing?"

[Referencing this fic!]

If Malleus could easily wave off Vil’s magic, then Maleficia can do the same for Malleus’s magic 😂

There's a part in this interaction where Maleficia switches from using "I" to "we"--that's the English royal "we" (pluralis majestatis). Historically, it's been used to invoke the divine right of rulers to speak for their state. I wanted to use it for a brief line to emphasize her serious tone.

***Note: foreshadowing for book 7 (so there are spoilers!!)***

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

"So good to see you, your majesty." Lilia bowed to the woman in regal black robes. His tone was lighthearted, even as he addressed the queen of his country. "You've spoken with Silver? I do hope he was on his best behavior."

"As always." Maleficia allowed herself a smile. To most, it would make their skin crawl with discomfort. To Lilia, it was the grace of a close companion. "It has been long since I have last seen you, my most trusted—"

She slightly startled when he lifted his head. Her mouth twitching, pupils dilating, as the rest of her face remained unchanged. "What... are you wearing?"

"Oh? You're curious about these?" Lilia fiddled with his frames. He was careful to not entirely remove them from his face, lest he cast off his magical disguise. The faux hairs that made up a pair of bushy eyebrows and a mustache tickled his skin, the big rubber nose flopping about.

"Surely it's not a human fashion statement," Maleficia said with the lift of an arched brow, "though you have always been one to experiment with your appearance. Why, I still remember how you wore your hair back in the day. Long, with stripes as red as blood."

"That was quite a while ago." It was the look most iconic to his oldest friends—and his oldest enemies. Memories that tasted of both sugar and salt churned in his mind. "No, this isn't a new fashion trend, just a little something Malleus whipped up for me so that I could attend Family Day with everyone."

"Malleus did? I knew the magic felt familiar," Maleficia chuckled. Tendrils of the enchantment bounced harmlessly off her, illusive wisps flickering between her fingers. "My grandson still has much to learn in the way of spellcasting before he can pull one over my eyes. He chose such a humorous item to enchant as well."

"The choice was mine. We share the blame for the spell's design. Ah, but isn't it odd? Despite these odd circumstances, we still find ourselves making many happy memories."

"How kind of Malleus to grant you a blessing that brings such good fortune. You won't have to sit out on the festivities this year."

"He has a big heart, that boy. He didn't wish for me to be by my lonesome—and I'm eternally grateful for it. Thanks to Malleus, I can be with Silver on this momentous occasion.

"Someday soon, the day will come where I can no longer be by his side." Lilia clasped both hands over his heart. The joy in his voice was undeniably touched with sorrow. "This time we have together now, as father and son... it's something I'll always treasure."

Maleficia frowned. "Lilia, you don't mean to say..."

"You know what I speak of, yes? The time that comes for us all eventually."

She solemnly nodded. "I did not think it would be so soon. Before long, the sun will set on our time, and it will rise again at the dawn of a new era, one led by the next generation. Our legacies, paving the future of Briar Valley.

“Malleus will succeed me. Your child will age, perhaps have children of his own. Baul's grandchildren too."

Lilia laughed--soft and bittersweet. "They grow up so fast, don't they?"

"Extremely."

"Fufu, you must be so excited to see how Malleus has grown then."

"I am, however..." Maleficia's brows suddenly furrowed. "I must confess, I did not visit today only to see my grandson. I also wished to personally inquire about your health while I had the opportunity.”

The question threw Lilia off his tempo. He flinched, then hurried to find his footing again. His cheer, a mask.

"Come now, I know I may be getting up there in age, but I'm not quite senile yet—nor am I chomping at the bit for retirement. I'm as spry as I ever was." He hopped a few steps ahead, back to her. “You see? I’m…”

"Lilia," Maleficia said patiently, her words warning. "You are deliberately avoiding my question. As our vassal, we command you to answer us. How does your magic fare?”

To this, Lilia hesitated, biting his lower lip. "I don’t want to lie to you, but… I also don’t want to tell the whole truth. It is not within a warrior’s spirit to show their weaknesses, not even to friends and family.”

“You needn’t pretend with me.”

“I know. I know, and that is exactly why I can’t bring myself to face you. Not in the state I’m in.” The wind extended a cool hand to caress Lilia’s cheek. He looked into the horizon, at the outline of Night Raven’s main building reaching up high to pierce the clouds. “The last thing I wish for in this world is to be the cause of sadness for my loved ones.”

“Do they know?”

Lilia shook his head. “Not yet. I plan to when we third years meet to discuss internships. The longer I stay, the harder it will be to let go. I must cut the cord then and there. Until then…”

He turned to the side, his profile outlined by the rays of the sun. Hope seeping through the darkness that had eclipsed his face. “I’ll enjoy the life I have left here to its fullest. I ask that you recognize this as my final wish, your ma… no, Maleficia.”

“Lilia…”

“Please.”

"... By the Seven,” the queen sighed, “I shall never become accustomed to those silly spectacles on you. To wear such a dress while making a request to a higher authority… that is something only you would dare to do, Lilia.”

She folded her arms, her long sleeves falling into place with the motion. “You have loyally served your country as both a skilled general and as a wise advisor. You are a dear friend, an irreplaceable individual, yet it is also you who would be so audacious as to deny me the truth I seek.

“… So be it. By the powers vested in me as Queen of Briar Valley, it shall be done.” Maleficia lifted a hand, as if imbibing her decree with power. “You secret will be safe with me.”

He hurriedly glanced away, blinking back tears. Happiness? Sadness? He didn’t know from where they came.

“Thank you.” Lilia choked on his words. He tried again. “Thank you for understanding.”

Her reply came as dry teasing.

“No tears. If they flow, you’ll have to remove those spectacles to mop up, and your disguise will be dispelled.” Maleficia’s eyes crinkled with quiet laughter.

“Today is a celebration of family. Let us put aside our woes for the future and unusual eyewear, and relish in the present with our cherished children. That is a direct order from me to you, Lilia. I won’t have my subject’s smile wavering in my presence.”

He chortled. The small sound evolved, shaping itself into an awkward laugh. Fully formed, but still shaky at its edges.

Lilia faced the queen, dropping to a kneel. His head lowered, he played out the role of a faithful knight reporting to his sovereign.

“Yes, your majesty! As you command.”

[tswaney17]

Accidental Chemistry - Coming Soon!

Summary: Azriel had his whole life figured out. He was the head of his department at work. He had a nice house with his own space. He could pick up any woman he wanted for a good fuck before moving on. He didn’t need commitment—didn’t want it. But when his brother and sister-in-law ask for a favor, he finds his whole life turning upside down in the blink of an eye. All because of his new roommate: recently divorced Elain Archeron.

And her three-month-old son.

~~~~~

I'm very excited to announce an upcoming fic, Accidental Chemistry. I have to give all my love to @duskwhisperer for sending me this idea and letting me run with it. Thank you, babes! 💕 I'm working on building out parts right now and don't have an official launch date, but I couldn't not use @elriel-month to announce this new project. Can't wait to share it with you! And to tide you over, here's a little bit of a sneak peek at chapter 1. 💜💙💚

Feyre sighed, sitting forward in her seat like she needed the strength to speak. “Az, we—or I—need to ask a favor of you.”

Ah, finally. The reason they invited him over for dinner tonight. He indicated for her to go ahead with a wave of his brutally scarred hand.

She took a deep breath, settling her nerves. “I was wondering if Elain could move in with you, into the loft you renovated over your garage? Until she’s back on her feet, at least.”

His brows shot into his hairline. Frankly, out of all the favors she could’ve asked him for, that was not even one that crossed his mind. Before he could get out a word in edgewise, Feyre barreled on.

“I know it’s inconvenient for you and that it’s totally inappropriate for me to ask you of this, but Elain has so much going on right now and her husband is taking advantage of the situation, and she has nowhere else to go, and I—”

“Feyre,” he interrupted her run-on sentence. “It’s okay. She can stay with me.”

Silver lined those blue-gray eyes that made him suspicious that other hands were at play here. Had her husband been abusive? Feyre’s relief that he agreed to allow her sister to live with him seemed…so out of place, he supposed.

“Thank you, Azriel. Truly. She’s going to be so relieved.”

This could be good for him. Once Elain was back on her feet and at a good point in her life again, there would be no harm in trying to pursue her, right? Obviously, he’d never take advantage of her, especially when she was in a vulnerable position after her divorce, but if she showed interest, there wasn’t any reason he couldn’t ask her out.

Right?

Rhys subtly nudged his wife, though it did not go unnoticed by him.

“There is one more thing.”

That had his stomach tightening in knots. Now what? After a beat, he finally said, “Well, spit it out Feyre. Don’t leave me hanging in suspense.”

“She has a son.”

All thoughts emptied from his head. “What?” he asked in confusion.

Her hands folded together as she leaned her forearms on the table. “Elain? She has a three-month-old son.”

~~~~~

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[magic-hcs]

Yoooo, I must say I adore your writing. I read the one where the boys have an argument with their S/O and end up hurting them… I was wondering if we could get a fluffy ending to that… 👉👈

Thank you so much! I'm happy you like my writing! And thank you for being so patient with me and waiting for so long. It's not really a fluffy ending, but an open ending instead with a positive outlook, I hope that works for you as well.

Since most people voted for Charon's part when its finished instead of waiting, I'll be doing that now, but don't worry I'm still working on the others.

You can find part one with Charon here

Charon; Underfell Papyrus

warnings: Hurt/comfort, and i think that's it?

Time to cast some magic and see what we'll get!✨

✨✨

Charon: After the fallout between you, Charon hasn’t seen you in months. More accurately, he has avoided every single place that you could possibly be at like the plague. (If he couldn’t avoid it, Charon would make sure to go only at certain times when he explicitly knew you wouldn’t be there.)

He couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes after what he had done. Unjustly done to you.

And stars did he regret it…

But from that altercation between the two of you there came forth a single silver lining: It was the catalyst for Charon’s decision to go see someone who could help him see what had gone so wrong with the relationship, and how he could learn to better adapt to the surface world. After a few days of research Charon concluded that seeing a therapist would be the best course of action. 

It had not gone as expected…

The first frustrated him to no end, the both of them as the therapist said; “there was no click between us, and thus I believe it is best for us to part ways.” And so they did. Really, the only useful thing the first one provided was the fact that Charon could simply try with a different specialist. That sometimes, it took a few tries before he would find the right professional.  Well, luckily, Charon is nothing if not persistent.

The second one wasn’t it either. The third was down right racist! (speciesist?) So that was a hard and firm No. 

The fourth however, was one Charon was currently satisfied with. She didn’t make him feel stupid, she treated him with respect and in Charon’s opinion knew what she was doing and talking about. Thanks to self reflection - and her helping him find sources that taught him more of the surface world - Charon learned and realized what had gone wrong between the two of you. Learned how to better cope with his issues. (his therapist had told him it was called trauma and very normal for people and monsters to experience after what he had gone through. Charon still has trouble accepting that having them doesn’t make him weak.)

 

Few more months passed and Charon finally felt comfortable enough to go to the places you go to as well. Not fearing the possibility of running into you by chance. (Mostly because now he was prepared. He now knew where he stood, what he would do and say were he to see you again. (Having practiced role plays with his therapist pretending to be you.))

Charon was prepared.

Until he literally bumped into you and stood face to face with your scowl in the park. 

You were not happy to see him.

His nonexistent throat and mouth suddenly became very dry. He can’t help his red eyelights that automatically get drawn to your throat - remembering he had grabbed some part of you in that general direction - subconscious searching for any more but finding none.

You go to turn around when Charon finally finds his voice again. 

“You Were Right.” 

You halt your footsteps. Wide eyes staring at the floor. There was a crack in the voice, a slight air of desperation was in there as well. But it was the clear, open sincerity and especially the remorse that threw you through the hoop the most.  

You took a glance over your shoulder just to make sure that it was really him who said it. 

“What..?”

Charon isn’t standing straight and alert like a soldier would - like you were used to him doing. His chin isn’t pointed to the sky. He’s standing there, almost timid. Eyelights are still directed at you but he’s practically bowing his head slightly down. 

“You Were Right.” He repeats, and you can hardly believe it. 

“I Was In The Wrong.” He added. There was genuine sadness and remorse shining inside his eyelights. And you had never seen him open up like this before.

Despite your mind telling you no, despite your heart that still aches when thinking about him, when looking at him. Despite it all, you give Charon the chance to speak. You would hear him, but that was the only thing you would do.

The two of you had taken a seat on a park bench and Charon had started off with apologizing (although awkwardly.)

He wouldn’t let you try to apologize as well  - even though Charon obviously took the altercation too far, you were to blame as well in your opinion - requesting you to listen until he has explained everything. And you let him. Begrudgingly thinning your lips together.

Charon explained he had been going to a therapist, he’s been unlearning his learned behavior that doesn’t work on the surface, and been working on bettering himself. He conveyed his regret on what he did and how lashed out at you - that he hadn’t meant what he called you and said to you - staring at his hands all the while.

You were happy for him that he was working on improving himself, you said as much. You also accepted the apology but made it clear you didn’t forgive him yet nor felt comfortable continuing your relationship where you left it off.

Charon had broken your trust, your heart, and it wasn’t easily repaired, if at all. 

He had been very understanding of your notion. 

“I’ve Burned Bridges, I Broke Your Trust, I Destroyed A Lot Of Things. But If You Let Me, I Would Like To Start Over Again. Earn Your Trust,” Charon speaks and it’s in a respectful way. It’s different from the way he used to always demand things. Maybe he really changed…or at least is working to change.

“I’ll Accept Whatever Answer You Give me. You Say Yes And I’ll Start Right Now. Say No And This Will Be The Last Time You See Me In Your Life.” There’s a slight tremor in his voice. It’s obvious what he wants to hear from you. He hopes for it, longs for it, you can see it in his eyelights.

But it doesn’t make you feel pressured. 

You ponder over it for a moment or two.

You take a breath. There’s only one way you can answer this right here, right now.

“I need some time to think about it.”

✨✨

✨✨

Thank you for participating in this spell, I hope it was to your satisfaction.

[jateshi]

FFXIVWrite2024 - Day 3: Tempest

(Benji doesn't have a sideblog yet so...)

Rolling out of the inn bed the viera stretched and felt the click of his jaw popping as Benji tiredly rubbed the side of his face, frowning at the feeling of grit and grime on his face.

Another sun of - the viera's ears pulled up after a few more minutes as the man realized he had no idea where he was and one eye seemed almost glued shut with swelling and blood, making the quick inventory of where he woke up harder. It took just a few more seconds as he pulled to his feet before he caught the sliver of a window and the bright green ahead of him. It took a few steps more before Benji was leaning on the wall and realized Gridania, from the green and wood scent, and then stared at the silver plate of a mirror to take in whatever the eve before had done to him.

One eye was pressed shut - bruised, only half a sun old he judged. A cut on his forehead and cheek that he stared at with blank emptiness, air leaving his lungs as he closed his eyes and pressed his head lightly against the wall.

He had snatches of the sun before but the only thing he recalled of the night had been a red haze as the sun had set. Fumbling for his pearls, his pack, Benji pulled the strings back and dug out a healing potion with too much familiarity with where they were buried, uncorking it and drinking the bitter brew down as he tested his eye until the swelling at least went down.

"Kinara?" The call was soft, Benji's voice tired and as shaken as he usually was after another episode. "Weren't we near Kugane last night?" He remembered the inn, the food, the flush of pride seeing his student and friend so well - then slowly less and less as it felt like he scattered. "Did I leave my bow th- if you can find it, I'm sorry I left at dinner." His tone made it a question and his ears lowered as he gingerly touched his face again.

"What was that?" His attention has shifted and he'd forgotten he was on the pearl call, staring instead at a distant line of red clouds like a coming storm. "I'll be back later, I forgot something I need to do." It felt like the haze from dreams again as Benji closed his eyes against the pressure of a headache between his ears, pulling the pearl out of his ear on habit and tucking it away as the confusion bled from his expression and sank beneath the waves of red coming closer and closer.

[jsbluelove]

So, what did I know about Arthur and Merlin?

Not much. Just that these two names are always said along, knew something about Arthurian legends, and that's just about it. And I knew that these two are often shipped and when some people say, 'they were good friends ' others would go like, 'sure'.

I didn't even know there was a series called Merlin, until I saw someone say in the comments of a YouTube video on Red, White and Royal Blue trailer that Henry and Alex giving of Arthur and Merlin vibes.

So, I asked again, 'How come they know so much from one or two movies or few stories that might have been about Arthur and Merlin?', and then I also wondered maybe there is/was a show - which led me to discover Merlin(2008).

And I thought, 'oh what a great way to spend my Saturday!' Might be an old show but maybe I will enjoy'

And by Monday night, I'm watching 5x13, except for the last part, because I won't...I won't cry..I don't want to cry. I felt so alone because I was so late to the series, overwhelmed, a little offended because I was genuinely thinking that the magic will do the deed, and bring back Arthur.

By Tuesday, I have already read at least two fanfics, watched 10+ edits, but I still won't watch any video of that last scene. I don't want to accept.

But there's a silver lining: I'm not really alone, I see people creating fanfic even in 2023. Look, I just wanted to have a fun Saturday, but by today, I feel like I should go jobless and read through all the content around Arthur and Merlin.

My thoughts on Arthur and Merlin being gay

This is something I heard people saying even before I knew the show existed. I thought they came from the tales of the legend itself.

I also watched a video where the cast and the showrunners talked about the characters' sexuality. But what I think is, Arthur and Merlin don't necessarily have to be gay, and yet can definitely be romantic.

The kind of person Merlin is, and the kind of person Arthur was, they bonded so well for a reason. They tease each other, they enjoy each other's jokes - Arthur did, they worry about each other, they have each other's back, they have adventures together, they need each other, and most of all, beyond need, they want to be around and with each other.

And the kind of person they are, why would I not think that what they feel about each other is beyond their sexual preferences? It's so much more than that. Arthur doesn't have to be gay to want to spend all his life with Merlin, live with only him forever and wanting no one else(considering he didn't have any royal responsibilities), and vice versa. I believe if Arthur would love Merlin even if Arthur was straight, gay, bisexual, or anything else. Because his love for Merlin goes beyond anything else.

The show focuses more on Merlin's dedication, love and loyalty for Arthur

Merlin's love for Arthur is what we see most - because he has been told in the beginning that he is destined to serve and help him. So what did he do? He devoted his whole time and attention to Arthur - the bond with Arthur only followed after that.

But I want to focus on Arthur here.

I see Arthur's side more - because despite so many to love and bond as friends, he found his bond with Merlin. So much so that even when outing with a princess he should impress - he stuck to trying to annoy Merlin. Outing with his wife - he is nonchalantly talking about Merlin. He definitely pictures being away and alone, but alone doesn't mean not Merlin.

Merlin is adored by many - he is just that lovable. He has a great mother, friends find it easy to like him, and he finds it easy to talk and connect with most people. That's his character - cheerful and cheeky.

But Arthur had this particular nature that only comes out while he was with Merlin. I'd like to call it instant cheerfulness. Merlin was special to him.

Arthur, I believe, always knew how much Merlin meant to him, how much Merlin cared about him, and he also knew that it is mutual.

Arthur was really hurt to know that there's a great part of Merlin, his magic, which was kept from him. It truly hurt me too.

I don't know if I'll ever watch that last scene or if I'll ever cry. Maybe someday I'll get over it and finally watch it.. or maybe I'll just bite the bullet and watch it and cry..

[sylviegunpla]

Plamo: Mega Man X3: Hawk Ride Armor (kitbash of Chimera Armor & accessories from Vile's Ride Armor / full paint job)

I Finally Finished It! Well, i finished it sometime around April 1st, 2024, based on the timestamps of my (older, mostly obsolete now) photos. I've definitely not been keeping up with this blog as much as i should.

These are the main angle views of it. There's some "errors" on this thing, but they're not gratuitous. The most annoying part for me is a spec of white on the left-thigh piece (his left not audience-left). Unfortunately due to the way i haphazardly mixed paints, i cannot recreate the exact shade of blue and thus can't properly touch it up. There's actually a few places you can see where i near-matched the shade of blue for some touchups, but im not sure how visible they are in the image. Also, the bolt holes on his-right upper arm are MEGA duplicated on the back. Those were custom panel lines and holes i made by gouging with an exacto knife and then filling in with gundam panel line marker.

I also did some extra special detailing on the leg greebles (which i plan to NOT recreate in my future ride armors): I glued thin plastic into the greebles so it could naturally create panel lines, then i used "Wave System Option: H-Eyes Red" to put jewels into the greebles (using double sided tape).

I will recreate the jewels in future builds, but not the panel line details

Here's some more (uglier) shots:

So there's still something i want to do with this build: I want to attach it to some kind of action/display base, so it looks like it's mid air, and find OR MAKE some sort of clear blue ring-shaped jet-blast effect part to put under the "hover pack", so it looks like it's hovering mid-air like it does in the game. I'm not gonna try to recreate the missiles though lmao. BTW, the Hawk Armor parts don't come with the base Chimera Armor So this was nearly all done using Mr Hobby Aqueous paints and an airbrush, with touchups by hand. Also some Gundam EX Marker Silver for some details, Mr. Super Clear Gloss so get a good surface for panel lining, then flat coated everything except for the red missile tips in the canons (those got a nice juicy gloss coat). I did a lot of masking using tamiya masking tape, which is a technique i'm also doing for the Kangaroo armor. BTW, the Kangaroo armor is also approaching a state of Completion. I'm still working on greebles and the arms (which were also the parts i put off til last on the Hawk armor lmao). But hopefully i'll post it in a more timely manner when that happens! I'm really happy to have finished this. When i first saw Bandai put out "official" kits for 3 of the 4 ride armors of this game, i absolutely knew i wanted to repaint the kit and make it look like the actual key art. I actually based the color choices on the sprite art, but otherwise mostly used the key art for reference with details and such. Well, Bandai did most of that work. I just followed it properly. However... i also have plans to do something absolutely ridiculous to try to recreate the Frog Armor... in time. I don't have full plans for it yet, but i have the ride armors and a dream. Anyway here's a preview of the Kangaroo Armor, a WIP shot: