#It required such a small change to make this feel earned

[webq84]

soft yandere classmate having first met you as he bumps into you in one of the school's hallways. you had your head down, your voice too soft and quiet that he didn't hear you apologizing to him before you quickly removed yourself from the situation, steering away from everyone like a plague so you won't bump into them.

soft yandere classmate who learned that you two were actually on the same class, sitting in front of you after the teacher chose your designated seats. he took one glance at you as he looked over his shoulders, and already sees you looking down again, avoiding making eye contact with anyone as you traced your finger around the wooden desk. though you tried to keep a stoic face, he could see how anxious you are through the way you would shake your leg while sitting.

soft yandere classmate who catches the way your face dropped in his peripheral vision as the teacher gives an activity that requires drawing, and it's quite obvious that you must have forgotten to bring it with you. but you were too shy, too scared to ask for help. he couldn't help it, and quietly lend you a pencil. it was his only pencil too, earning him a zero on his worksheet. but somehow, he knew it was worth it.

soft yandere classmate who helps you in small, different ways during classes especially when the teachers asked questions. he would moved a little and raised his hand, blocking you from the teacher's view so they won't have to pick you, knowing that even if you do know the answer, you'll simply be too nervous to give an answer and might just end up there standing awkwardly, waiting for the ground to swallow you whole as everyone anticipates in silence. the whole scenario will be too much for someone like you.

soft yandere classmate who turns around and sits backwards on his chair to attempt to engage in a conversation with you. it was definitely difficult at first, your voice being so quiet that he sometimes have you repeat what you just said, his heart a little heavy when he does so. it will definitely take a while to have you grow comfortable around him, but when you attempted to make a small joke one day, his eyes lit up, knowing that he's making progress.

he instantly shuts down any bullying from your classmates. they don't try to approach you anymore, but they also don't try bothering befriending you. this extends to everyone outside of your school, subtly threatening anyone who makes you even the slightest bit of uncomfortable, glaring at the person who's taking your order as he stands in front of you when you kept stuttering, trying to make them hear what your order is after they had you restate it a couple of times despite you trying your hardest to raise your voice.

although he is making progress in your slowburn friendship, you two are still not quite close yet that you'd try to initiate a conversation with him. it has to be him who talks to you first or you won't be talking to him at all. soft yandere classmate wanted to change that without having to force you.

soft yandere classmate who found you one day underneath a bridge. worried, he stayed to find out what were you doing on such a place, eyes darkening at the thought of a bully forcing you to come here even after he's made it loud and clear for everyone about the consequences, only to see you crouching down in front of a small opened box with a tiny cute kitten on the inside, meowing softly upon seeing you.

he could feel his heart melting as he watched you interact with it, your usually aloof face covered with a sweet smile as you feed and played with the small feline. he could hear you talking to it, telling it about your day. his heart jumping a little mentioned him. he continued to observed from afar, noting how you seem to get along more with animals than with your fellow peers. eventually, he decided to make his presence known, slowly approaching from behind to join you and the small bundle of fluffball.

you were surprised at first when he crouched down beside you, but you were quick to relax as you were beginning to get used to his presence. you said your hi's and hello's before a brief moment of silence befall the two of you. it was like the small kitten in front of you made every thought inside your head disappear as you start the conversation, asking him what he's doing here. he felt a little nervous before answering, trying not slip up his little secret that he was stalking you.

it starts off with a small question at first, but soon you begin talking more and more, and before he knew it, soft yandere classmate is now just smiling softly as he listens to you ramble to him, from troublesome homeworks to the very kitten who you are currently petting and stroking on it's cute little head.

he learned a lot of things about you in those few minutes, and he couldn't be more happier. he learned that you couldn't keep any pets at your home, forbidden by your strict parents, and how you wanted to give the kitten a name despite it all. what you didn't know, is that you gave your classmate a sweet little idea.

soft yandere classmate who told you that he will help you pick it's name, and take care of it back at his home. and how nice he is, as he added that you can come over to his house anytime you like to visit it!

once everything is set and done, after class, he'll invite you over, happily telling you that he was able to think up of a cute name for the kitten. and since you're unaware of his underlying intentions, you made it easy for him to lure you in the safety of his walls. where he will slowly convinced you that you will live a much more comfortable and better life if you stay with him and lotte.

all of the things you didn't like to do but forced yourself to live up to everyone's expectations, they're all in the past now. your happy sugar life begins, starting with owning a pet that you've always wished for.

[thrillered]

Could you do a fic where spencer reacts to edits of reader or of them together💖

Reacts | Spencer Agnew x Reader Oneshots

I had a few requests like this so I hope everyone who had a similar request likes it! Just something cute and fluffy.

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“I love you Angela, this is incredible!” You laughed, watching a compilation of Angela moments titled ‘Angela being a feral guinea pig AGAIN for 8 minutes and 22 seconds’. 

“Feral guinea pig is crazy.” Angela sighed. 

The small group finished watching the video, making comments here and there about Angela’s antics. 

“The next compilation requires a slight change in cast,” Ian explained. “Tommy, get out of here! Spencer! Come on over!” 

“Awe Spencey!” You cooed, as he walked onto set, the sound of applause echoing. 

“Now that both Y/N and Spencer are here it’s time for our next video: ‘Spencer and Y/N being the cutest (not 🤨) couple at Smosh’. Let’s get into it.” 

You and Spencer looked at each other, curious as to what would constitute an 18 minute video. You knocked your shoulder into his teasingly, an easy smile gracing his features at your touch. 

“Oh my god! I’m so nervous! Why am I nervous?” You gripped Spencer’s arm tightly, his hand coming to rest on top of yours reassuringly as Shayne began to read an update to the reddit story. Spencer whispered something in your ear, so quiet the mic didn’t even pick it up, making you laugh. 

You paused the video, laughing at the memory. “Oh my god, what did you whisper again?” You asked Spencer. 

“I quoted Will Farrell.” He clarified. 

“Shut up, I’m so fucking scared right now, shut up!” You and Spencer quoted in unison, knocking together in your laughter. 

“That’s definitely gonna be in the next compilation of you two.” Angela teased. 

“Y/N Stop! Holy Shit! Get off of me!” Spencer shriek-laughed, attempting to put his controller out of your reach. 

“No! Fuck! Spencer!” You yelled, basically climbing on top of him trying to mess him up. 

The minigame ended quickly. Hearing it was over you gave up your pursuit of his controller, collapsing on top of him, slightly out of breath. “Good god.” You huffed, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“No way we’re still tied for 4th after all that!” Spencer said, exasperated. He placed his free hand– the one not being pinned down by your body– on your head, ruffling your hair slightly before you sat back up. Looking over to Shayne and Chanse they were both out of breath from laughing at your attack on Spencer.

“I still demand a rematch.” Spencer said, bitter about your success in that ‘don’t Win’ video. 

“Only if you’re ready to get your ass handed to you again.” 

“I feel like there’s gonna be a comp of me and Ian third wheeling you two this whole segment.” Angela interjected, earning a playful glare from the two of you. 

It was just clip after clip of you and Spencer being cute. You two were best friends so you were incredibly comfortable around each other. However, watching the compilation made it a little harder to deny both yours and Spencer’s feelings. You couldn’t help but notice the way he looked at you in each of the clips. He watched you with rapture when you spoke, he looked at you like your voice was the sweetest song he’d ever heard. 

You wanted to deny it but you recognized that look. You recognized it because it was the same way you looked at him. It made your heart swell. 

“I bet if we did an eye-tracker on Spencer and just played a smosh video with Y/N in it, he would always be looking at her.” Ian teased. 

“I mean, as he should.” You laughed. 

“Yeah yeah, whatever. God forbid a man cares about his friend.”

“Oh hush, it's equal caring. I’d be honored for you to stare at me in a video.” You defended. You unpaused for the final clip of the video. 

“Can I phone a friend?” You asked, having no clue what the answer was. 

How you ended up in a video game beapordy, you had no clue. You were doing alright but didn’t know the current question so you didn’t even buzz in. Both Trevor and Chanse had gotten it wrong, leaving it to you. 

“Go ahead.” Shayne allowed.

You called Spencer. You knew he would know the answer. He was currently at his apartment since he had the day off work. 

He picked up after the first ring, which wasn’t unusual for him. “I was just thinking about you.” Spencer remarked, a blush creeping up your neck. “What’s up?” 

“I have a really important question.” You told him, pausing for dramatic effect before reciting the question from Shayne. 

“Oh! This is easy.” Spencer laughed, rattling off the answer and some. 

“I hate to cut you off,” You interjected. “But I gotta finish this game. You can tell me all about it later though.” You promised with a laugh. 

“Okay okay. I’ll see you later then.” 

“Okay, Love you Spence.” 

“I love you more.” 

You hung up, Chanse giving you a playful and knowing smirk. 

“Oh Spencer I love you so dearly.” he mocked, pitching his voice up and adding kissy noises. 

You lightly slapped his arm, allowing the game to continue. 

“Let’s look at some comments, shall we?” Ian asked, scrolling down. 

“ ‘not dating’ my ass, they are too perfect together to not be” 

“Can Spencer fight? I’m so serious.” 

You laughed at this one, looking to Spencer to see his head hanging and shaking no. Beneath that comment was another that mirrored it, only switching your names. 

“Unlike Spencer I can fight so back off my best friend.” You intimated, squaring up to the camera. “Don’t worry babe, I’ll protect you.” You said to Spencer, doing your best douche-bag voice. 

Spencer left the video after this, Tommy reentering to watch the rest of the compilations. 

Spencer sat to the side, watching you, smiling when you did and laughing at all of your jokes. He already knew the comments on this video would be wild. You two had been getting edits and shipping content since your very first video together years ago. He didn’t mind it though.  He knew your friendship was secure and that’s all he cared about. 

Would it make him the happiest man on Earth to be with you? Yes. But that didn’t matter unless you wanted it. He was perfectly content being your best friend, it was a title he wore with great honor. 

He would try one day, he had to. But for now he didn’t need to be your boyfriend to know you loved him. You made it apparent every day with each interaction you shared. He hoped he did the same, because loving you was always the easiest part of his days, and the one that made him the happiest.

[rootedinrevisions]

The Tribal Pull: Part 2

SUMMARY: Your internship with WWE continues and as it does you seem to be getting more and more attention from The Tribal Chief. But you're determined to stay focused on your career. No matter how hard he is to ignore

OTHER PART(S): PART 1 I PART 3

WARNINGS: None for this part.

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to the person who sent the request for this one! I hope you enjoyed the first part and enjoy this one as well! There will be one more part coming that I am currently working on finishing!

The weeks roll on, and you settle into your role at WWE with a growing sense of confidence. You’ve earned your place amongst the interns, handling tasks with precision and professionalism. More people are starting to know your name, but it’s the attention from Roman Reigns that you can’t quite ignore.

It starts with small things. At first, Roman addresses you only in passing, asking about an assignment or a quick check-in on something you’re working on. But then, the tone of these interactions begins to shift.

One afternoon, as you walk down the hallway, heading back to your office after grabbing a quick lunch, you notice Roman leaning against the wall near catering. He’s surrounded by his usual crew, Paul Heyman included, but instead of looking deep in conversation with them, his eyes are on you.

“Hey,” he calls out casually as you approach. “You surviving all the chaos around here?”

You blink, surprised at the question. “Yeah, I’m managing,” you reply with a smile, stopping briefly. “I’m used to the chaos by now.”

Roman smirks, his eyes flicking down to the cup of coffee in your hand. “If you need another one of those to get through the day, I know where the good stuff is.”

You chuckle lightly, unsure how to respond. It’s not unusual for coworkers to exchange light-hearted comments, but coming from him, there’s a weight behind the words that you can’t quite shake off. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you say politely, before excusing yourself and moving on.

But the light exchanges continue. At first, you chalk it up to Roman’s natural charisma—he’s friendly, sure, but he’s like that with everyone, right? You tell yourself it’s nothing, and try to push it from your mind. 

One day, you’re tasked with getting Roman’s signature on several 8x10 photos for an upcoming sale on the company’s website. You walk over to where he’s preparing for a segment and hand him the folder of photos.

“You need me to sign these?” Roman asks, raising an eyebrow as he flips through them.

“Yeah, just a few for the online store,” you reply, trying to keep things casual. “No rush. I know you’re busy.”

He looks up, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’ll take care of it. But next time, just come straight to me.”

You blink, confused. “Aren’t I already...?”

Roman leans back slightly, his eyes flicking over to Paul, who is in his usual spot nearby, scrolling through his phone. “Most people go through Paul. You don’t have to.”

His words hang in the air between you, carrying a subtle but undeniable shift in tone. Roman’s eyes are locked on yours, and for the first time, you can feel the full force of his attention on you. It’s not overwhelming, but there’s a weight to it that you can’t ignore.

“Okay,” you say slowly, unsure what to make of the sudden change. “Thanks.”

You leave the interaction puzzled, but you remind yourself to stay focused. You’re here to work. You don’t have time to analyze why Roman Reigns is treating you differently than everyone else.

The work requests continue—quick video shoots, promotional content, small tasks that require Roman’s involvement. Each time, he speaks to you directly, bypassing Paul completely. It feels odd at first, but you remind yourself that he’s just being efficient. He’s a busy man, after all. If he can cut out the middle man, the small tasks get done quicker.

But then, one day, things change.

It’s nearing midnight, and you’re about to head back to your hotel after another long day. You’re walking through the lobby when you spot Roman standing by the elevators, talking to one of his cousins. You consider just passing by, but as you near the entrance, he spots you and calls out.

“Hey,” he says, motioning for you to come over.

You hesitate for a moment but quickly remind yourself that it’s just Roman. It’s fine. You walk over, giving him a polite smile.

“Everything good?” he asks, his tone casual but still carrying that same weight that’s starting to become familiar. “You look like you’ve been working hard.”

You shrug lightly. “Just trying to stay on top of everything.”

Roman nods, watching you closely. There’s a moment of silence before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “Listen,” he says, handing it to you. “Why don’t you take my personal number? In case you ever need anything.”

Your heart skips a beat. This is... not normal. “Oh, I—” You stammer, unsure how to respond. “I mean, I don’t want to overstep...”

“You’re not,” he says firmly, his tone leaving little room for argument. “Trust me. It’s easier this way. If something comes up, you can just text me directly.”

Your hand hesitates as you take the phone, quickly entering your number. You hand it back, your mind racing. He quickly sends you a text, and you feel your own phone vibrate when you receive the text.

Roman Reigns just gave you his personal number. You’re not sure how to feel about it.

On one hand, it’s an enormous gesture of trust and convenience—he’s making your job easier, and that’s a good thing. But on the other hand, there’s a part of you that can’t ignore the implications. Why would he give you, an intern, such direct access to him when everyone else goes through Paul? Even some of the upper management roles still had to go through Paul to communicate with Roman. Even the General Managers. Hell, even Triple H still had to go through Paul to set up meetings with Roman.

You can feel his eyes on you as you hand the phone back, and for a moment, you wonder if he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“Thanks,” you say, keeping your tone as professional as possible. “I’ll only use it for work-related things.”

Roman smirks, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “You can use it for whatever you want.”

The words send a chill down your spine, but you force yourself to stay composed. You give him a polite nod, then excuse yourself and head for the exit.

As you walk back to your hotel room, your mind races. Roman’s interest in you is becoming clearer, but you can’t afford to let yourself get distracted. You’re here for your career, not for complicated relationships—especially not with someone like Roman Reigns. There’s an undeniable attraction, sure. But the age gap, the potential gossip, the implications of getting involved with someone so powerful in the company—it’s all too much to risk.

And yet, as you walk down the quiet hallway, you can’t help but glance at your phone, wondering what would happen if you let yourself cross that line.

The weeks continue, and you try your best to focus on your work, on staying professional. You keep telling yourself that Roman’s attention is nothing to worry about—that he’s just being friendly, that it doesn’t mean anything. But deep down, you know that something is shifting between the two of you, and it’s getting harder to ignore.

It starts with small things—things you convince yourself don’t matter. A touch on your shoulder when he passes by, the way he stands a little too close during conversations. It’s subtle enough that you can pretend it’s innocent, but there’s a current underneath every interaction that makes your heart race.

One afternoon, you’re backstage, working on logistics for an upcoming show. You’re engrossed in your clipboard, making notes on schedules and checking off tasks when you feel someone’s presence behind you. You turn around, surprised to see Roman standing there, much closer than you expected.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low and warm. “You look like you’re working too hard.”

Your breath catches for a moment, but you force yourself to smile, keeping your tone light. “Just trying to stay on top of things.”

Roman’s eyes flick to your clipboard, but instead of stepping back, he leans in slightly, his arm brushing against yours. The touch is casual, but it sends a shiver down your spine. “You’re doing more than that. People are noticing how good you are at this.”

You swallow, trying to ignore how close he is. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, and you can feel the air between you shift. There’s something unspoken in the way he’s looking at you, something that makes your heart beat a little faster.

Roman doesn’t move away. Instead, he leans in just a fraction more, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “I mean it,” he says softly. “You’re really standing out.”

The warmth of his hand through your shirt makes it hard to concentrate, and for a moment, you’re frozen. It’s not like he’s being overtly inappropriate, but the way he’s looking at you, the way his touch lingers—it’s making it hard to keep up your walls. You glance around quickly, hoping no one else is paying attention to this interaction, but Roman doesn’t seem concerned.

You clear your throat, stepping back just slightly to put some distance between you. “Well, I have a lot to do before the show tonight,” you say, trying to shift the conversation back to something professional.

Roman just smiles, a knowing look in his eyes. “I’m sure you do,” he says, his voice carrying an edge of amusement. He lets you slip away, but as you walk off, you can still feel his gaze following you.

Over the next few days, Roman’s behavior becomes more daring. It’s subtle, but you notice it. The way he stands close enough that you can feel the heat of his body, the way his eyes linger a little too long on you when you talk, and the compliments that are starting to feel more personal than professional.

“You look good today,” he says one evening as you pass him backstage. His eyes sweep over you briefly, and it’s not just a casual remark—it feels like a quiet acknowledgment of something more. “That color suits you.”

You try to brush it off with a polite smile, but the compliment sticks with you long after the interaction ends. It’s the kind of thing that would make anyone’s heart skip a beat, and you’re no exception.

Despite your best efforts to remain focused, you can’t help but notice how often Roman seems to find his way into your path. Whether it’s backstage at an event, during a lunch break, or even in the hotel lobby late at night—he’s always there. Always watching.

One evening, after a particularly long day, you find yourself in the hotel lobby, waiting for an elevator to take you to your room. The doors open, and as you step inside, you see Roman coming from the other side of the hallway, heading straight for the elevator. Your pulse quickens as he slips in just before the doors close, standing next to you in the small, enclosed space.

“Late night?” he asks, his voice low as he glances at you.

“Yeah,” you reply, trying to keep things casual. “A lot of work to get done.”

Roman chuckles softly, leaning against the wall of the elevator. “You always seem to be working hard.”

“It’s an internship. I’m trying to make the most of it,” you say, shrugging lightly. But even as you speak, you can feel the tension in the air between you, thick and heavy.

Roman shifts slightly, his arm brushing against yours in the confined space. The touch is small, but it sends a jolt of awareness through you. You glance up at him, and for the briefest of moments, your eyes meet. There’s something in the way he’s looking at you, something that makes your heart race and your breath catch in your throat.

The elevator dings, breaking the moment, and you quickly step out, relieved to have an excuse to walk away. But as you head toward your room, you can’t shake the feeling that Roman is watching you, his presence lingering in your thoughts long after you’ve closed the door behind you.

Over the next few days, Roman’s subtle flirtations become harder to ignore. He finds reasons to talk to you, to stop you in the hallway or backstage. His compliments grow more personal, and the way he looks at you leaves little doubt that he’s interested in more than just a professional relationship.

“You’ve been killing it lately,” he tells you one afternoon as you pass him backstage. “Everyone’s been talking about how hard you work.”

“Thanks,” you reply, keeping your tone polite, but distant. You can’t afford to get caught up in whatever this is. You’re here for your career, not for Roman Reigns. “Just trying to do my job.”

Roman smirks, his eyes locked on yours. “You’re doing more than just your job.”

There’s a flicker of something in his gaze—something that makes your heart race even though you know you should be pulling away. But despite your best efforts to keep your distance, you can feel the chemistry between you growing stronger with every interaction. It’s intoxicating, the way he looks at you, the way he makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room when he speaks to you.

But you can’t let yourself get distracted. You’re here to learn, to grow in your field, to land a good job after this internship ends. Getting involved with someone like Roman Reigns—especially with all the rumors and whispers that would surely follow—is a risk you can’t afford to take.

Still, as you walk away from yet another charged encounter with Roman, you can’t help but wonder how much longer you’ll be able to resist the pull between you.

* * * * *

It’s been another long day, and by the time you make it back to the hotel, exhaustion is setting in. The events, the logistics, managing talent—it’s all starting to blur together. All you can think about is getting into your room, changing into something comfortable, and finally relaxing.

You walk through the hotel lobby, eyes on the elevator ahead, your pace quickening with the thought of some well-deserved rest. The ding of the elevator arriving makes you pick up your steps, but as the doors slide open, your breath catches.

Roman is inside.

He’s standing at the back, his arms crossed casually over his chest, his dark eyes locking onto you the second you step into the elevator. You give a polite nod, pressing your floor button as the doors close. The tension is instant, palpable. You can feel the energy in the small space shift as Roman leans slightly against the wall, watching you in that quiet, confident way he always does.

“Long day?” he asks, his deep voice filling the silence.

“Yeah,” you reply, keeping your tone light. “Pretty typical for this job.”

Roman chuckles softly, his gaze never leaving you. “You’ve been handling it like a pro.”

You smile politely, grateful for the compliment but trying to stay focused. The last thing you need is another charged conversation with him, not when you’re already battling with the undeniable chemistry between you. “Just doing my best.”

There’s a pause, and the elevator hums quietly as it ascends. Roman shifts slightly, and when he speaks again, his tone is different—lower, more personal. “You know,” he says, “I gave you my number weeks ago, but you’ve only used it for work.”

Your eyes flick to his, surprised by the shift in the conversation. “What else would I use it for?”

The question comes out before you can think, and the second it does, you regret it. Roman’s lips curve into a knowing smile, and he pushes off the wall, taking a step closer to you. He’s close enough now that you can feel the heat of his body, the faint scent of his cologne filling the small space.

“I can think of a few things,” he says smoothly, his voice carrying that unmistakable confidence. His eyes stay locked on yours, as if he’s daring you to ask for more.

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you’re stunned, unsure how to respond. The elevator feels suddenly too small, too intimate. Your mind races, trying to process his words, the weight of his gaze, the unspoken meaning behind what he’s suggesting.

Before you can find your voice, the elevator dings, signaling its arrival at his floor. Roman steps back, the intensity of the moment breaking as he turns toward the doors. But before he steps out, he glances back at you, his eyes lingering for just a second longer.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, knowing smile.

And with that, he’s gone. The doors slide shut, leaving you alone in the elevator, heart racing, mind spinning.

You stand there for a moment, replaying the conversation in your head, trying to make sense of what just happened. Roman’s confidence, his directness—it left you momentarily stunned, and now, as the elevator continues its climb to your floor, you can’t help but feel the undeniable pull between you growing stronger.

You swallow hard, telling yourself to stay focused, to remember why you’re here. But as you step out of the elevator and walk down the hallway toward your room, you can’t shake the thought of Roman’s words—the way he said them, the way he looked at you.

It lingers with you long after you close your door, settling into the quiet of your room, the tension simmering just beneath the surface.

[141wh0re]

"Sugar" Pt 1

Pairings: Simon Ghost Riley x F!141 Reader

Warnings: it's fluffy and cute and sweet.

Summary: Simon finds himself coming to terms with his revelation about the way you make him feel.

AN: Inspired by Sugar by Sleep Token.

Simon was reclined in his full sized bed, arms lazily slung behind his head, and tired, brown eyes haphazardly focused on the ceiling tiles of his private quarters.

Lost in the dark recesses of his mind, Simon cursed the day he was born. The inky-black tendrils curving about the contours of his brain. Each fissure of his brain harbored the trauma.

How he hated this day. The day he was born. The day that he always spent alone. The day no one knew the significance of. And he kept it that way.

Until you, that is.

The bright, blinding ray of sunshine hovering just meters above his face. A warm smile gracing your soft lips. Small crinkles at the corner of your stunning eyes.

Simon was so lost in the depths of his mind, he hadn't even realized you'd come in. His eyes took in your appearance before he slowly sat up, pulling himself to recline against the headboard of his bed.

"Hey, big guy. I didn't mean to interrupt you," you start in your soft, soothing voice.

Behind his balaclava, his eyes ran the entire length of your form, quickly assessing you. His person.

The one person who could pull him out of his dark thoughts.

"'S nothin' important," he waved off dismissively. "Need somethin', doll?" he asked with an assessing look.

"Well, in a moment, I'll require your person." you answered with a playful smirk.

Unbeknownst to you, the corners of his lips threatened to tug into an amused smirk in response to your playful demeanor

"Wha' for?" he inquired with a calculating look.

You bit your lip in anxious excitement, partially from the brilliant plan you and Johnny concocted and partially due at the off chance you'll put a hint of a smile on Simon's lips.

"You trust me, yeah?" you asked, studying his brown orbs.

Simon almost gave a visceral reaction, instead, he steeled himself and gave a subtle nod, earning a bright grin from you.

"Follow me, big guy," you giggled and offered your hand to him, to which he studied momentarily, letting out a half-annoyed sigh before taking your hand.

"Bend down, you're too tall." you teased, earning a grunt of amusement from him while he obliged your request.

Stepping behind him, your hand was rested on his shoulder, a quiet reminder that it was only you.

Simon's thoughts ran wild, trying to decipher what game you were playing with him. He trusted you implicitly... but that doesn't mean you weren't trouble.

Simon was pulled from his thoughts when he saw the black material in your small hands. He was about to protest before you soothed him in your gentle voice.

""S jus' me, big guy,"

His breath caught in his throat as your hands situated the material on the only slip of skin showing.. his eyes.

Once the blindfold was tied into place, your hand traveled the length of his arm until you stood in front of him, linking your fingers together. Simon immediately relaxed upon feeling the softer, yet slightly roughed up skin of your hands.

He could never understand how you maintained such softness in this career. From your soul to your skin. He never wanted that to change.

Your hands were always the soothing balm his weary soul needed. The few times you have initiated physical contact with your superior and teammate, he's instantly calmed.

His mind would go blank, a quiet peace he's never known before settled within the root of his being when you laid your soft hands on him. Either when you've deliberately touched his hand or the few times you've patched him up on missions.

He humored you by allowing you to guide him through the halls of the base, his mind focused on your hand in his. How perfectly your small hands fit within his palm.

"Doll.. I trust ya, but wha's with the blin'fold?" he asked finally.

You sent his blinded self a smirk when you came to a halt just outside the break room.

"Well.. I hav'ta test ya, now." you mused playfully.

"Do you scare easily, Lt?" you asked with a curious tilt of your head.

Simon stilled upon your question, panic and worry seeped into his bones. For the first time in his entire time knowing you, you'd manage to instill a blind fear into him. Literally.

"Doll.." he warned.

"Okay. That answers my question." you mumbled, feeling a part of your plan crumble between your fingertips.

"Hoist me up, big guy." you demanded, resting his large palms on your hips, to which Simon obliged, almost instinctively.

"Don't you dare drop me, Simon." you playfully warn, sending him a teasing glare.

He didn't even have to see your face to know of the smug smirk encasing your lips.

Simon held you up in his arms, wrapping his burly biceps around your waist, hoisting you up for what? He didn't know.

You locked your legs around his hips, reaching behind him to undo his blindfold.

Simon blinked at you a few times as his vision recovered. Brown, calculating eyes studied between you and the rec room entrance that was completely blacked out at the moment.

His heart stuttered in his, typically,hollow chest when his eyes settled on you. His gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips as you smiled at him, for once being eye-level with him.

You smirked at him before jutting your chin to the break room door, silently urging him to go in.

He continued holding you to him with such ease, as if you didn't weigh anything.

Simon tried not to focus on the comforting feeling of having you in his arms like this. But he'd be damned if he were going to let this moment pass him by.

He took a cautious step through the threshold, keeping you clutched tightly to him.

An uneasiness crept into the back of his mind as his senses picked up on the feeling that they weren't alone.

"Easy, big guy. Just hit the lights and it'll make sense. Kay?" you reassure him in that gentle voice.

His unease relaxed when he realized you were aware of other people's presence within the room.

He took a deep breath before reluctantly setting you down on your feet and flicking on the lights.

"Happy birthday, Lt!!" Johnny, Kyle, and Nik exclaimed in unison.

John Price and Kate Laswell stood behind the group. John's lips were tilted into an amused grin, his arms firmly crossed over his chest while Kate mirrored his stance.

Simon's initial reaction was to startle from the sudden exclamation but he quickly eased when he felt your hand in his again.

He turned to look at you, his expression still stoic behind his mask, but his eyes glittered with appreciation.

Until you blew a cheesy kazoo in his face and popped a silent confetti tube in his face.

Simon's eyes turned annoyed but you didn't miss the amused puff of air he let out into his mask in response to your antics.

When the rest of the team realized he wasn't going to kill you, they broke out into amused laughter.

"Happy birthday, Simon," you said with the biggest shit-eating grin, feeling triumphant in your ways of successfully pulling off his surprise party.

You gently nudged him toward the group where they all greeted him with a handshake or a clap on the back. Except for Johnny. Who unabashedly wrapped Simon up in a big hug, earning a friendly punch to his shoulder in response.

You sauntered over to Johnny and Gaz, beers in hand, and sat with them at the large round table.

"Seriously, lass, I don't understand how ye pulled that off without gettin' skinned," Johnny chuckled softly with an amused shake of his head.

"If it were us, he'd have our heads!" Gaz said with an incredulous look.

You shrugged nonchalantly and sipped on your beer, "Told ya he loves me."

Simon heard your words as he stood behind you, chatting with John.

He realized then that you were right. As much as he'd never admit it, he did love you.

He developed a taste for your sweetness and he now craved to always be on the receiving end of that flavor you gave.

His person. His sunshine. His sugar.

You were everything he never knew he wanted in life. And you were quickly becoming everything he needed.

[imastrangeone98]

Carved Into Time Immemorial

(A/N: I'm back with my bullshit 😄 I've reemerged from the depths of legal hell and I will not hesitate to repeat this again)

Based off of a dream I had, started off as a zombie apocalypse dream but it suddenly changed to a reincarnation au so there's that

Warning: fem!reader, ooc modern!alhaitham who's a simp, reincarnation angst to comfort, just general bad attempt at hurt/comfort fluff

"I'm merely attempting to tell you to stop deluding yourself with your fantasies."

"So you're telling me to screw off, right?" you sniffled, tears running down your soft cheeks. "If you didn't like me, you just had to say that. Why are you being so cruel?"

"It's not being cruel, it's simply being realistic," he retorted with a dismissive wave of his hand. "With my status as the Scribe, the requirements for a romantic partner must be near equal to or higher than my own. And with your low grades, unruly personality, and penchant for idiotic decisions, the answer is quite obvious:

"You don't meet any of my prerequisites."

Alhaitham's eyes crack open, and he blinks at the sunlight peeking through the blinds.

With a grunt, he hoists himself up and stretches with a soft yawn, before rubbing his eyes in exhaustion.

Another dream.

What a shitty way to start the morning. He runs a hand through his hair and ruffles it rather aggressively.

"I need a coffee."

[...]

Never mind. He doesn't want coffee anymore.

Because the new barista taking orders bears a striking, near-identical resemblance to the crying woman in his unnaturally realistic dreams.

But it's too late to back out, because Alhaitham is next in line, and your gentle eyes peer into his own so deeply, he almost doesn't notice the way your hands shake just the slightest at the sight of him.

Despite the brief stutter in his voice, he manages to give you his order, even placing a small tip inside the jar, which he normally doesn't do.

Given the terror in your eyes which you so desperately tried to hide, he feels as though you earned it. That, and the coffee you handed over to him (ignoring the softness of your fingertips when they brushed over his knuckles) is surprisingly delicious- perfectly bitter with a smooth undertaste that the previous baristas could never achieve.

As he heads off to work, he finds himself savoring every sip.

Meanwhile, you're still reeling at the sight of the mysterious, yet familiar man this morning. How could it be possible, that the figure you saw hurting you with words so sharp they could've cut through your skin in your dreams be a living, breathing human being in your reality, especially when said man spoke with such a surprisingly quiet voice?

Could it be possible that we met before? you couldn't help but mull over, before shaking your head resolutely.

It's just a coincidence, nothing more, you try to reassure yourself, returning to grinding coffee beans with diligence. Nothing more, nothing less.

It's not like you're ever going to see him again.

[...]

You ought to smack yourself right in the head, because you end up meeting the familiar stranger- Alhaitham, you recall from the name on the cup- again at the tavern.

Your coworkers had dragged you there against your will, despite your lack of enthusiasm. So you sit at the bar, a mocktail in your hands, watching the other baristas get more and more drunk.

"You're not a fan of alcohol, I presume?"

The sudden voice close to your ear makes you flinch, and it's only thanks to the man's solid chest that he doesn't go tumbling to the ground when you smack him.

"I- I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No need to apologize. You have quite the arm strength."

You flush at the reminder of your actions, as well as how firm his stomach was. You'd slap yourself silly if you weren't in public.

"If that's all, I hope you have a good rest of your night-"

"We've never met before."

You look at him, confused. "I beg your pardon?"

"We've only met once, yet you seem strangely familiar. Like someone from the past," he says. "And from the way you seem to avoid my gaze, would I be correct in presuming that you also view me in a similar light?"

Something within you- almost like an inner voice- whispers at you to not answer his question, to leave and not turn around for a final glance. And it's so unnerving that you're speechless.

"I'll take your silence as an answer." He gazes at you with unbridled curiosity, eyes sparkling in the dim bar light that you can't look away. "If it's agreeable with you, would you be interested in going out for a meal sometime? Perhaps we could compare notes."

You should say no. The voice within you tells you to say no.

But he tilts his head, and somehow, your voice cannot bring itself to vocalize what you should say. So you simply nod, albeit hesitantly. And with a brief exchange of phone numbers, you hurriedly grab your things and ditch your coworkers to rush home.

Alhaitham watches you until the door swings shut, then moves his attention to his phone screen, swiftly typing a message to his newly-made acquaintance.

"I've never seen you so excited about meeting people before," Kaveh chortles with a swig of his wine. "Were you hoping to bring her home tonight? The way she darted away says otherwise."

He rolls his eyes. "Says the one who pulled zero people in the span of the hour we've been sitting in this bar."

"Why, you-!"

"Alhaitham's and Kaveh's love lives aside," Tighnari jumps in and glares at his two friends, "it's about your time to roll, Cyno. We came here because you wanted to play cards, yet here you are, staring at nothing."

Their attention turns to their card-loving friend, who is merely staring at the door.

"...She's a marathon runner," he says simply.

"...What?"

"A marathon runner. Because she's been running laps in Alhaitham's mind."

The men stare at him blankly.

"...Do you not get it? Allow me to explain- Alhaitham has been exceptionally distracted for the past hour-"

Tighnari immediately tries to stop him, leading to an objectively hilarious argument that even has a chase sequence ("Enough with the shitty puns, you pea-brained lummox!"). But Alhaitham isn't laughing.

He stares at his phone, at the little notification indicating a response from you, agreeing to lunch in a few days' time.

He sets about looking for a nice cafe.

[...]

The booths are small in this restaurant, because the two of you pick at your food with your knees practically bumping each other under the table. But the panipuri appetizers are good, so at least you have that silver lining.

He's not particularly chatty, as his answers to your icebreaker questions are short and straightforward. But you sense that it's not out of malice, but simple directness.

At least you learn some things: he works at Sumeru Corporations, he holds a relatively high yet comfortable position, he has a "terrible roommate with no sense of rationality or common sense," and he enjoys a good book at the library. It suits him, you think.

It isn't until your lunches arrive that the conversation turns more serious.

As you nervously take bites of your fish with cream sauce, he asks you a question: "Did you sleep well last night?"

You flinch. The answer is: you did not. The dream prevented you from doing so.

"Dropping out of the Akademiya? I knew you were always foolish, but to think you'd stoop so low as to throw away your future," Alhaitham said, watching you throw away boxes upon boxes of your schoolwork and rejected theses.

"You said so yourself, Grand Scribe," you sighed. You refused to give him any more attention than this; the sting in your heart wouldn't allow it. "I was never meant to be a scholar. This is the best case scenario for everyone involved."

He huffed, and scanned through some of your old papers- papers you spent days, weeks, months on, even. Papers that he would've written in an hour or less. You bit your lip; you refused to give it any more thought, lest the grief in your chest mutate into rage.

"You do realize that some of these could be published, yes?"

You rolled your eyes. "If you're done mocking me, Grand Scribe, you can return to your duties now."

"I'm not mocking you; some of these papers would easily be approved by the Grand Sage-"

"Don't even get me started on that incompetent old fool!" you hissed, and you squeezed the old papers in your hands so hard wrinkles formed. "If that was your attempt to have me stay in the Akademiya- which seems beyond your best interest, mind you- then you did a horrible job. Leave at once!"

"Just listen to-"

"LEAVE!"

"Are you alright? You're crying."

The voice jolts you out of your memory. You jump in your seat, the feeling of a warm finger gently rubbing under your eye further pulling you out of your unexpected funk.

Alhaitham stares at you, leaning away. "My apologies. You just seemed very lost in thought."

You wipe your suddenly wet eyes. Why would you cry over a silly dream? "Sorry; I don't know why I did that. It was just a bad dream I had last night, please don't worry about it."

He hums and stares at you thoughtfully, a cheek rested on his hand. "I suppose now would be a bad time to tell you I also had a dream last night."

You look at him, eyes wide.

"You were leaving some institution called the Akademiya, and I made some attempt to stop you for unknown reasons."

The blood in your veins chilled you; you stare into your plate, appetite gone. He eyes you, swiftly switching his empty plate with yours.

"I admit that I'm not one to be superstitious. But for us to share the same dream cannot merely be a coincidence."

You want to deny it; there's no way some complete stranger happens to share the exact same dream as you! It's just a coincidence!

...But is it really? To both know the words that were spoken between your dream self and his? Could that truly be called a coincidence when it seems like every dream of yours is known by this man?

You stay silent.

Alhaitham takes the time to briefly study your face: the corners of your eyes are etched with laugh lines, your hands are rough and calloused from months- maybe even years- of hard work from your various areas of employment, and even though you're visibly upset, your head still bobs gently to the soft music playing above. You live a different life than he imagined.

He swiftly handles the bill, and when you complain and try to hand him your share of the receipt, he merely says, "If you'd like to repay me, I know a good place that has excellent baklava."

And when his eyes glow and he extends his arm to you, you- against your better judgment- say yes.

[...]

"Y'know, he's been in quite the good mood ever since his date~" Kaveh chuckles at his roommate from the comfort of his cramped desk. "He's finally appreciating all those love lessons I taught him!"

"Sure, if you can even call those lessons," Tighnari laughs at his friend. "More like screaming matches to me."

"I swear to the archons, if you try to mock my teaching skills again, I'll give you a 'love lesson' too!"

"No need, I don't need another one of those."

"What are you talking about, I never gave you one-"

"On the contrary, Alhaitham has been rather cranky at work." Cyno watches his friend typing away at his phone while simultaneously managing his leftover paperwork, oddly determined on finishing the last of his duties before work ended so he could focus his attention on other, "more important things worth my time than slaving away over a desk," as he put it. "He seems very intent on 'throwing a wrench' in all of my proposals for the upcoming case."

"...Not gonna lie, Cyno, that doesn't sound very off-brand from his actual personality," Tighnari says bluntly. "Also, stop with the archon-forsaken puns!"

"No. And correction- he's intent on rejecting my proposals. Setaria's and Zandik's went through without a hitch. And their plans almost never get approved by him."

That fact left the lawyer's two friends utterly confused. While Alhaitham was never an active fan of Cyno, they knew that the former always respected the latter's opinion regarding legal matters. The fact that he is actively avoiding Cyno's advice is... concerning, to say the least.

They all turn towards Alhaitham, who had seemingly paid them no heed, and observe him in silence.

"...If you focused on your duties as fervently as you do your gossip, I'm sure this office would be much better off," said man cuttingly says to his friends.

"I will once you tell me why you're rejecting my proposals," Cyno huffs, arms crossed.

"I would accept them if they were not so riddled with nonsense."

But Alhaitham knows that the words he spills so smoothly are actually directed towards himself. After all, no reasonable man would be doing such ridiculous things as he is solely because of a dream.

...Or perhaps, a distant memory.

"Do you happen to know what flowers she likes, Alhaitham? Perhaps not flowers..."

Alhaitham watched Cyno mumble to himself as the general pored over the selections of bouquets, a strange feeling in his gut. But he rolled his eyes and pointed one out to his friend. "This one."

"Ah, so she likes Sumeru roses. Simple, yet classic and elegant. A fitting flower indeed for a blooming beauty."

It was strange to see the General Mahamatra himself with such a wide, love-struck smile on his face. Everyone around him was placed on edge, including the Grand Scribe himself. But there was no real reason to feel this way. After all, he had long since cut ties with you ever since you left the Akademiya to start up your own food stall, selling fresh chai and charcoal-baked Ajilenakh cakes to eager customers.

But ever since Cyno became interested in getting closer to you, Alhaitham found it more difficult to avoid you. He began inviting you to the tavern for TCG, then to the Grand Bazaar to watch Nilou's latest performance, then to walks around the city at night to stargaze. Soon, you and Cyno were practically inseparable- where one was, the other would most certainly be as well.

It was... odd, to say the least. Alhaitham was always used to your gaze on his back. Now that your eyes had moved elsewhere, the feeling was unusual. He should have felt relieved. Yet all he felt was an unnatural wrongness.

But he said nothing. He gave Cyno his advice, and watched as the general practically sprinted to where you had promised to meet him that night for dinner. He watched until his friend's back disappeared, then returned home, feeling abnormally bitter.

"Don't play dumb, Alhaitham," Cyno says cuttingly, eyes piercing. "You've never approved of Zandik before. So what's really going on with you?"

"I already said my piece. Maybe instead of standing around and blabbering about how your proposal didn't get chosen, your time would be better spent fixing your mistakes."

Alhaitham turns back to his computer, headphones slid over his ears, effectively tuning out Cyno's further complaints in favor of the playlist you sent him a few days ago.

A playlist that you certainly did not give to Cyno.

[...]

"Wow. These are beautiful, but..." You gaze at the bouquet of rainbow roses Alhaitham placed in your hands earlier. "...Where did you get these? They don't look local to Sumeru."

"The florist imported some unique flowers from Fontaine. I thought you'd like these ones."

His eyes fixate on your small, sweet smile as you nod and breathe in their scent. "Yes. I do. Thank you, Alhaitham, that's very sweet of you."

Not as sweet as you, he thinks. But he can save those thoughts for another time. A more appropriate time.

[...]

...He just didn't think that time would be now.

Because you and Cyno are playing TCG. Together. At the same table.

Alhaitham knows he shouldn't feel this way. He was the one who invited you to join him, after all. He knew this could have been a possibility- you're soft and likable, it's only fair that his friends would be drawn to you.

But the look in the lawyer's eyes is unnaturally familiar. And it grates on his nerves.

Because he saw it before. At your wedding. He saw you walk down the aisle, with a smile brighter than he had ever seen grace your lips.

And across from you, Cyno. With hearts in his eyes, he held out his hand for you, and Alhaitham watched as you took it in your own and held his hand close to your heart. And he watched, bitterness on his tongue, as you were whisked away in the general's arms, dancing the night away.

That could have been me. The thought thudded so strongly in his mind he nearly knocked himself over. But he knew he only had himself to blame. And Kaveh was more than eager to rub that fact in his face as he helped his stupidly drunk friend back to their shared home.

"If ya weren't such a... such a hard-ass, maybe she... she would've gone out with you," the architect cackled, the smell of booze so strong it made Alhaitham's nose crinkle in disgust.

Just as it does now, at the sight of the two of you, chumming it up like peas in a pod. Like the two of you were meant to meet.

To fall in love all over again, as you did before.

His hands clench, and the wineglass nearly shatters.

Kaveh eyes him knowingly. "Y'know, if you're gonna be such a hard-ass-"

"Do not." He snaps at the architect, before rising from his seat to march over to you, completely ignoring Kaveh's baffled gasp at the sheer audacity of his junior.

"Alhaitham!" you greet him so cheerily, he almost forgets why he's so upset. Almost. "Come sit with us, we're just about to start a new game!"

"She's quite the talented player," Cyno nods at you. "You should bring her around more often."

"I'm afraid not for a while, as we have somewhere to be." He grabs your wrist and escorts you out of your seat and towards the door, choosing to ignore your confused pout. "I'll see you on Monday."

He doesn't turn back around to Cyno's brief protest, nor to Kaveh's knowing guffaw as the two of you exit the tavern into the cool night air. He breathes in deep, trying to ease the tightness in his chest.

"...Alhaitham?" Your soft voice cuts through the silence, compelling him to turn towards you. "Is something wrong?"

He chews on his lip. "...Do you like him?"

"Who? What are you talking about?"

He sighs; no way could you be this adorably oblivious. "Cyno. Do you like him?"

Your eyes widen briefly, before you rub your chin, deep in contemplation. "He's very friendly, I'll give him that."

He glares at the ground.

"But I don't think I would go out of my way to hang out with him outside of hanging out with you," you laugh, scratching the back of your neck and looking up at him. Your eyes glow in the moonlight, and he's so captivated, his hand reaches out to brush against your cheek.

Your face feels hot, and you're suddenly even more bashful than you already are. But when you try to hide your face, he immediately gets a gentle, yet firm grip on your chin.

"Don't hide," he whispers. He stares at you, a fond look in his eyes. "You don't need to hide from me."

You're once again reminded of how utterly handsome Alhaitham is. And you want to kiss him. So you lean on your tiptoes, face moving towards his-

DON'T.

The voice echoes loud in your mind, and you grab your head in pain with a yelp.

"I'm merely attempting to tell you to stop deluding yourself with your fantasies."

Alhaitham immediately reaches out for you, grasping your chin and tilting your head this way and that. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"With your low grades, unruly personality, and penchant for idiotic decisions, the answer is quite obvious..."

"My- my head..."

"Your head? I'll take you to the Bimarstan, just hang in there-"

"You don't meet any of my prerequisites."

"NO!" You pull away from his touch, like his skin burned you, and turn your back to him. Every cell in your body seems to be screaming: LEAVE. "I- I have to go."

"At least let me walk you home-"

You don't hear any more of him- you can't, not with the voice in your head demanding you to turn your back on him and return home immediately.

You don't see the pain in his eyes as he watches you leave him.

[...]

You don't contact him for a while. His messages go unread.

Alhaitham spends most of his time staring at his phone instead of his papers, waiting for a message that never comes.

"You keep staring at that screen, your eyes are gonna pop out," Kaveh chortles as he sips his coffee. "And then that woman will really never want to see you again."

Alhaitham doesn't reply. He instead thinks back to his last conversation with you: the fear on your face, the tremble in your hands, the shakiness of your voice.

Did he make you uncomfortable? Did he push too far against your boundaries? Did he make you remember too much, too fast?

Did he remind you of something... or someone... you'd rather forget?

"You haven't brought your friend around recently," Cyno comments lightly from his desk. Alhaitham's hands clench. "You should invite her to join us again sometime. I'm looking forward to another rematch."

"I'm just surprised Alhaitham is capable of thinking of someone other than himself," Kaveh scoffs. "This man reeks of haughtiness, what makes you think he's capable of having friends, let alone a love interest?"

"Sounds like somebody's jealous," Tighnari chimes in. "Kaveh's right, by the way; staring at a computer screen doesn't do well for your eyes."

Alhaitham simply mumbles, "Pardon me if my eye health is the least of my concerns at the moment," and continues typing and deleting his message to you, trying for the nth time to make it perfect.

"...I knew it," Kaveh gasps, and he points dramatically at his roommate. "It is because of your lady friend! Let me guess, trouble in paradise? Want your best friend to give you some love tips?"

"That would actually be greatly appreciated."

"I knew that those would come in handy- Wait, what?" It's not just Kaveh who looks at him utterly flabbergasted; Cyno and Tighnari also stare him, dumbfounded at why the ever-rational secretary would want romance advice.

"Since when did you...?"

"Why would such a lovely lady ever want to..."

"I KNEW IT." Kaveh lunges towards Alhaitham, dramatically grabbing him by the collar and vigorously shaking him back and forth. "Ever since that woman showed up, you've been so googly-eyed; it freaked me out for weeks! And here I thought you were physically incapable of feeling love."

Alhaitham rolls his eyes. "Excuse me for wanting to keep my private life private."

Tighnari coughs into his hand, silencing the two men. "Well, since it's not so private anymore, you may as well tell us what's plaguing you."

"The lady lost interest?" Cyno chimes in, resting his head on his hand. "Or perhaps she's being distant. Like an iceberg."

"What does an iceberg have to do with-"

"She hasn't responded to me ever since I tried to kiss her. I'm worried I may have breached her personal space." Alhaitham sighs heavily and rubs the bridge of his nose. "I'm aware that I might have done something wrong, but she won't even let me apologize."

Kaveh simply rolls his eyes. "Then isn't that the solution? Just leave her alone; clearly she no longer wants anything to do with you, for good reason."

Alhaitham grits his teeth. "It's not that simple; she looked like she wanted to reciprocate, but something held her back."

"Well, you're not gonna know what until you ask her yourself," Tighnari says with a shrug. "See if you can meet her. If she gave you her address, go to her house or something. You're just gonna keep asking yourself questions until you go crazy."

"He's plagued with the love bug," Cyno hums thoughtfully. "You should bring flowers. She seems like the type to like Sumeru roses."

Alhaitham's eye twitches. "Actually, she prefers rainbow roses. I'll be off; it's exactly 5 PM."

He swiftly gathers his things and leaves the office, glaring at the piles of unfinished work he's intentionally putting off until the next week. He has much more important things to contemplate than the office goals for the next month.

He needs to find a way to meet you. He has too many things to say, and no way to say them.

What should he do? Should he go to your workplace and see if you're in? Should he be a freak and try to track down your phone? Should he-

Ding~

The soft tinkle of his message tone hits his ears, and he yanks his phone out to look at the screen... and nearly drops the device onto the ground.

Rainbow Rose 🌹: Sorry for not responding. Please come meet me. I'd like to talk to you about some things.

Attached is the address to Puspa Cafe. He immediately starts calculating in his head the fastest way to get there, what to order, what to say to you.

I'm sorry for invading your privacy. I want us to be closer. What can I do to be allowed into your space? How can I prove to you that I'm different from the person in your dreams?

By the time he's finalized what he wants to say, he already sees you through the window of the cafe, sipping on some specialty drink. The setting sunlight frames your face so perfectly, the words he planned fall through his mind and onto the floor beneath him.

But he swallows the rock in his throat and approaches you.

You blink up at him and smile softly. "Alhaitham. Sorry for calling you in such short notice. Please, sit." You gesture down at the seat in front of you.

But he's unnerved; you're polite and distant again, just like how you were when the two of you first met.

He has so many questions, but they all narrow down to the same thing: Were the dreams too much for you? Are you still willing to see him again?

"How is your head?" is all he can manage to ask you.

You nod. "It's alright. Thanks for asking." Then you scratch your head and lower your gaze to the ground. "Alhaitham. I don't think we should meet anymore."

The words don't process in his mind until you're halfway through some spiel. Then his blood turns to ice.

"...Pardon?"

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. "That night, when my head started hurting after we..." Your cheeks flush, and you glare at your cup. "The dreams wouldn't let me sleep. Every one of them involved you, hating me. They're so vivid, I know you and I both know that it's not a coincidence anymore. And I'm worried that-"

Alhaitham stops listening.

You don't want to meet him anymore. Cyno's words echo in his mind: the lady lost interest.

You don't want to see him. He may never see you again.

He's brought out of his mental spiral when you brush your hand against his.

"Alhaitham?" you ask quietly, too softly. Like a hunter speaking soothingly to a dying animal. "You lost focus."

"I..." He's dumbfounded; Alhaitham has never been lost for words, yet now his tongue refuses to move, his lips refuse to speak, glued together with fear and desperation.

You stare at the ground, hair covering your eyes. "...I understand. I'll take my leave. Thank you... for everything. It was..." He sees you bite your lip, a tear slipping down your cheek, and you stand up and leave.

He simply stares at your seat until the doorbell chimes lightly behind you.

He cannot process anything, not with your rejection still echoing in his mind, clouding his senses, your tears polluting his conscious.

...Your tears.

...You were crying.

The cogs in his brain turn once more.

He stands up so abruptly, he knocks his chair back, and throws himself outside the door, sprinting towards you.

And when he calls to you, your shoulders turn.

His heart burns with hope.

"I can't accept that," he pants, grabbing hold of your shoulders and gently turning you towards him. His hold is weak, enough for you to slip through his fingers if you pull away hard enough.

You don't pull away.

"Alhaitham, what are-" you start, but he cradles your face in his hands, staring deep into your eyes, and you fall silent.

"You said we shouldn't meet because of the dreams." His thumbs draw circles onto your soft cheeks, and archons above, he wants to kiss them. "Would it be more accurate to say that you feel that way towards the man in them?"

You blink at him, confused. He nearly coos at how adorable you look.

"What do you think about me? Do you think of me as someone who hates you?"

"No." His heart warms at your instantaneous answer. But it stops at your next sentence. "But my body doesn't feel that way. My head doesn't feel that way. The dreams... You hated me since the moment I..." You freeze, and become stiff in his hold.

But when he rubs your cheeks again, you melt into him, stumbling on your own two feet into his arms. And he cradles you against him, as though if he pressed his body into yours hard enough, the two of you could combine and never be apart.

"...I can't promise you that I won't be like him, the one in your dream...The me of the past," he whispers into your hair. "But I can tell you this now: I am not so foolish as to let you slip from my hands yet again."

Your eyes water with tears; you don't know whether to move closer or move away. Your brain is mush; Alhaitham's cologne fills your nose until all you can see, smell, hear, is Alhaitham.

"He was foolish; he made his choices and regretted them too late. I have already made my choice, and I choose you."

You gasp, just the lightest of breath, and he traces your bottom lip with his thumb.

"I chose you, and I will always choose you. And under no circumstances are you obligated to choose me in return." But he smiles so sweetly at you that tears well up, both in your eyes and his. "But if you choose me, I swear that I will never repeat his mistakes. I will build us a future here, from the ground up, and earn your trust, piece by piece. And I will never let you go again."

Your body flushes hot, urging you to flee his grasp and never return.

He hasn't changed, your mind whispers to you. He is just as cruel, callous, and selfish as ever.

He gently places his forehead on yours, and closes his eyes. "Take as much time as you need," he says. "I will always be here."

"...Will you?" you ask, voice so quiet that it blends into the background.

But Alhaitham hears you. Loud and clear.

He smiles. "Always."

Your body hates you. You should hate yourself, perhaps, for being too weak.

But you melt into his arms, where he encloses you with his warmth and security.

And when your mind tries to overwhelm you, your heart tells it to be silent.

[...]

"It's been awhile."

You scoff, refusing to look at him. Alhaitham chooses to look down below at your respective reincarnations sleeping peacefully. He- the newer him- embraces you tightly in his arms, and you- the newer you- snuggle closer to his warmth.

Alhaitham- the old Alhaitham- smiles. You- the old you- do not.

"Foolish girl," you sigh heavily. "I tried to warn her, yet she never listened. She's only going to fall into the same trap I did."

"...Perhaps she won't," he counters, hovering closer to you. "Perhaps she, and he, are a little more intelligent than we were. Wisdom comes with age... and experience. Something we lacked then." He glances down at them again. "Something they have now."

"Only because of us," you grumble. "And here I am, trying to pass down my wisdom, and she refuses to listen. Is stubbornness just something we're destined to have, I wonder?"

"Perhaps," he chuckles. "And perhaps, she is also building her own wisdom based on her own experiences. As is he." He glances down at his other self. "If he only relied on my memories, he would have never even approached her. He would be a coward like I was, and hold all his feelings in until it's too late."

You say nothing. He smiles softly, and gently touches your hand. When you don't move away, he slowly wraps his arm around you, resting his head on your shoulder, savoring your warmth (or what you have... given you're both spirits).

"Our story has long come to a close," Alhaitham murmurs. "But theirs is different. Let's let them be. Maybe they'll be much different from us."

You grumble in his hold, but don't pull away. "I didn't take you to be the type to make irrational predictions."

"Death does do things to a person's mentality," he muses. "After all, you wouldn't let me touch you like this in life."

You huff, but don't say anything in retort.

And he holds you, just as his counterpart does, until the sun rises and melts the darkness away. Them with it.

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

A/N: this took way too long to write (thanks law school), also tumblr is a b*stard and wouldn't let me write in my drafts so I had to copy paste everything when it was 3/4 finished 🥲

And yes, this sucks- deal with it XD

[balkanradfem]

It was a while ago I read this tumblr post, which still comes to my mind every time I think about the future. It was explaining in an insightful way, how it's not a violent revolution that will bring forward the better future, it's slow and consistent change of our everyday life, of our habits, the resources we use and the way we go about achieving things. If we're hoping for a future where we're not dependent on capitalism, not destroying the environment, not robbed of our labour for a fraction of the money we need to survive, we'll have to slowly die capitalism out, by changing our own living habits.

If a sudden shift happened, and capitalism stopped functioning overnight, for most of the people that would be unsurvivable,  all of the resources, food, jobs and life-sustaining services would stop. And we can't afford that. But, if instead we slowly backed away from it, generated alternatives, created communities and systems that can sustain us without capitalism, then it would only be a matter of time before capitalism is fully dead, with everyone alive, everyone safe. And this slow shift would be able to happen through decades and generations, and it would still be a great positive shift, with a future in sight. Capitalism offers no survivable future, seemingly ready to last as long as it can by destroying whatever is left from the environment and people alike, for the benefit of the few.

So let's see how we got here, or how I feel, looking back, we got here.

People used to be less dependent on a global system of distribution of resources, even just a 100 years ago; survival and trade skills were passed down in families and communities, and people would be able to make inside of their home and communities, a big percentage of things that we today would buy at the store. In those times there was no other way to gain those resources but by relying on people's knowledge, skill and labour. The future, however, promised a more convenient and easy way to gain all those resources, because they would be made by machines, and thus cheaper. And things kept coming in cheaper, for no visible labour required; you just needed to have money to buy them, which not everyone had.

But this too, would change as cheaper and cheaper things arrived, and it became less convenient to make those things yourself or within your community, and more convenient to just trade some money, and have it all be done for you. For people then, it could mean less energy spent on survival, more leisure time, more health and longer lifespan – except, it didn't, because the jobs that they needed to earn that money, tended to take all of that away. So still, there was a lot produced at home or within the communities, independent workshops and artist shops, so people within in the community would benefit from each other, instead of benefiting some faceless global corporation.

And now we know where this went; conveniences started lining up to the point where not having a certain convenience meant that you were below the norm. They sometimes got mixed up with inconveniences, but those inconveniences were 'necessary'. For instance, pollution became necessary, highways, huge trucks delivering goods, the oil industry, destruction of forests and habitats, exploitation of the poor, extinction of certain animals, and by the end of it, the climate change.

When I was born, my mother and grandmother still attempted to pass some skills that their mothers taught them; I remember being taught how to knit at the age of 5, the activity which at that age, seemed awfully tedious and was soon abandoned, and my grandmother showed me how to crochet, which I also soon forgot. After the age of small child, they both looked at the world, shrugged and decided 'she won't need it', and they have stopped trying to teach me any skills of the sort.

Buying things, rather than making them, already seemed the norm. People were readily telling you that you are stupid for trying to make something, when you could get it in the store, for very little money. Having animals at home, or growing food, was slowly getting replaced by buying it cheap, or buying tons of snacks, and biscuits and cakes, which now you could get pre-packaged, readily available to consume at your leisure. If it brought lots of waste from packaging, plastic and other non-degradable materials, nobody cared, it was new, convenient, and available, and we would have it, and live luxuriously.

Soon nobody seemed to talk anymore, about what we used to do before we were able to buy anything we could possibly need at the store; nobody would tell me what were the names of the native plants, and which ones I could make into teas, I was instead told to change my priorities because this kind of behaviour will never get me any money. All of my efforts to do arts and crafts, to forage, to make things from scratch, to paint and invent stories, were called frivolous, because they would not generate the one thing that was now the only thing worth generating: money.

It simplifies things a lot, instead of making various, interesting, self-made and beloved items that would all require different knowledge and skills, a human is now required to put all of their talents into 1 thing that would generate revenue, and then do that one thing, for entire life, and this would present a normal life on earth now. This was how it was presented to me, and it was before I found out that keeping one job for the whole life, was no longer an option, that changing jobs was the norm and was not often volountary.  I did not, however, understand how doing that one job would not make someone go insane, and nobody was explaining that to me, it was just, the life.

So while the world was shifting into this new concept of 'make nothing but money', the first millionaires started to appear, the billionaire was not even conceptual, having 1 million was equal to being the richest person on the planet. That is pretty laughable to us now. Back then, it felt like heading into a new exciting world, but we know better now. We understand that lives consisting of a job and thousands of conveniences, easily sends a human being into a depression. We understand that relying on a job to keep us alive, and having constantly to compete with everyone else unemployed, to get one, has brought us to a place where others are a competition, not a resource, not a community. We understand that living in a world where we have to market ourselves as a resource, causes a lot of us to lose self confidence and the feeling of value, while it sends others into obsession with becoming popular, gaining perceived value, gathering a public image, that would later prove to be profitable.

By this time, unknown to us all, this life of convenience and consumerism had caused immense damage to the environment, and we were mostly kept in the dark about it, so we wouldn't complain. We learned about the holes in the ozone layer, but were told it was merely the fault of certain aerosols, and the rest of the stuff was fine. We would in the future get to watch oil spills and devastation of animal habitats, never fully connecting it to corporations who were responsible. Acid rains were mentioned, but we were told they caused by the new pesticides, but it was the fault of the farmers, they said, who simply used too much of it. Now we know it was the exhaust fumes from cars, factories and coal power plants. Climate change was barely mentioned, and even less believed in. And now, we can no longer ignore it.

So, what do we do in order to progress? We obviously can't go back to where we came from, but we are now made aware that the amount of energy and resources we're consuming, and the amount of toxic waste we're creating, will devastate the planet to the point where a big chunk of it will become inhabitable, millions of both people and animals, will end up dead if we keep going. But wait! How can I blame the people for any of this, when it's obviously the corporations that are doing the most damage, lobbying and hiding what is in actuality going on? And you're completely correct, I would have to say, it is corporations, and for the most time, we really didn't know the extent of damage they were doing. So why are the corporations exactly doing all of this? For profit. And who's giving them all that profit? Well, the consumers, by consuming all of the oil, energy, goods, resources and products they make. So how do we take down the corporations? By not giving them any of the profits. But, we can't do that in the current state of the world, we need cars, and food, and that food to be shipped and delivered from the distant lands, and we are all depressed and if we can't at least have our favourite snack, food we're used to, little treats and pieces of clothing that make us happy, we no longer feel like we can live!

And that's where the slow and meaningful habit shift comes into place. The thing is, we're not the same people we were 50 or 100 years ago, we don't have the skills of our ancestors, we're not used to producing our own resources, we are out of touch with nature, and we struggle to find our communities and feel valued. But we also have, so much more information and education at our fingertips. We have more scientific data, we have more access to information, we have more people creating public resources, we have the experiences and wisdom of generations back, only waiting for us to reach out, to tap into what the humanity knew  centuries ago.

We're made to do various activities! We thrive on changing our habits by season, even by weeks. We thrive in communities, with no competition for resources. We love creating art, music, crafts and beauty just for fun, and the communal value of it cannot be compared to money. We don't like being reduced into human resources or labour force, we don't like repetitive activities that don't produce results or seem nonsensical, we don't like to be stuck within one room for most of the day, we don't like being replaced when we stand up for our rights.

I can already see a lot of people valuing all of the things on this planet that cannot be exchanged for money, but have intricate value in our lives and experiences; wild animals, plants, forests, environments and ecosystems filled with life, little stories and jokes we tell to each other, making crafts just for the sake of making things, creating their own clothes or fabrics, learning how it was done in the past; growing food, foraging, herbalism, basketry, making of soap and fixing things on our own, visible mending, connections and building communities, we are remembering it's what we want and need, and we're not going to build it the way it was in the past; we're going to do it our own way, with the knowledge and experience we have, the way we think is the best. All we need to do is start small. Do one little shift that takes you one tiny step away from consumerism. Add one little enrichment in your life that doesn't have anything to do with money or purchasing. Find little ways to save on energy that doesn't make any dips in your happiness or comfort levels, that only requires a little bit of your attention or focus to do.

Big shifts are not sustainable, and are not survivable, but we didn't get here by a big shift; we got here by a series of small, almost invisible shifts that we barely felt were happening, until it was our new normal. We can do small, painless shifts too, but this time, they're going to be conscious, purposeful, with thoughts of the future behind it, and they're going to come from us. Not the corporations, not the money holders, but us, pushing the future to the direction that we want.

[arcane-vagabond]

Road To Perdition: Prologue

Road to Perdition: Prologue

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: The Great Depression wasn't called a depression for nothing. Jobs were scarce, and the price of food and other necessities were rising higher and higher with each passing day. What little money you were able to make went straight to the bank and out of reach from your booze-swilling lech of a brother. It's on one such run that you come face to face with members of the infamous Dagger Gang; a group of, admittedly handsome, men who steal from the banks to hand it back out to the poor. You want nothing to do with them, but that blond-headed devil might just have something to say to the contrary. (1930s!Mobster!AU)

Content Warning: Mentions of alcohol, Allusions to alcoholism, Death of parents, Pessimism, Historical Inaccuracies probably. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: Just under 1.2k

Series Masterlist

Light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting shadows across the walls as your eyes slowly fluttered open. There was a stillness in the air that was all too familiar for those that lived as far out of the city as you did, nestled in the trees that scattered the farmland surrounding your home. You heard the shrill chirping of the birds as you adjusted back to life in the waking world, stretching with a grunt as you glanced over at the clock sitting on your nightstand.

It was still early, something you both lamented and thanked the lord for. You had things to do today, things that would require you to sneak past your brother who had undoubtedly passed out on the couch once more after a night of drinking himself silly. He had been like that before your parents passed, one of the many things he and your father had in common.

It had been only a couple of years since your father died, leaving your brother his illegal business of moonshining - a business you had been a part of at one point before finding other means of making money. Your father hadn’t been too keen on the idea at first, always commenting on how you seemed to have a special touch with the liquor, earning you your nickname of Moonshine or Moonie for short.

He had accepted it in stride, though. Especially when he saw the amount of your first earnings as a part-time photographer for the local paper. The camera had been a gift from a family friend, having purchased it for his son who quickly let it fall to the wayside as other pursuits caught his interests.

“Shouldn’t go to waste,” he had said, handing it to you with a small smile on his usually stern face. “Here, Moonie. You should have it.”

You had felt wrong taking it at first, but the feeling quickly left you once you held your first photo in your hand, your brother having saved up enough to set up a makeshift room for you to develop them in. That was before he started sampling his own product, of course.

“These are really good, Moonie!” Jack had grinned as he held a particularly stunning shot of a doe you had encountered in the back field one morning. She had turned to face you, and that’s when you had taken the shot, just before she ran back into the safety of the woods. You were particularly proud of that shot, but you ducked your head down in humility.

“They’re not that good,” you mumbled shyly.

You smiled wistfully at the memory before letting out a sigh as you pulled yourself up out of the comfort of your bed. You were quick to tidy up, fluffing the pillows before marching down the hall towards the bathroom. The sound of snoring echoed from your brother’s room, and you snorted in surprise at the change, but continued on.

After relieving yourself, you washed up, grimacing at your reflection in the mirror. Most girls your age had a whole counter full of makeup, but you simply couldn’t see the need for it, or justify it for that matter. No, you were saving up what little you could to make your escape. You weren’t sure where you’d go yet. New York perhaps? You’d heard there was always an opportunity for someone there. The thought of making your way in the growing city sent your stomach fluttering, and you clapped your hands against your cheeks to settle your mind.

There was no time for daydreaming. You had to focus on the task at hand. You were able to squirrel some of your earnings away from your brother’s greedy hands, and you made weekly deposits into a private bank account. People had been weary of the banks since the crash a few years back, but you trusted them more than your snooping older brother. Work had been hard for people to come by, but people were always looking for a photographer. So for now, non-essentials like makeup would have to wait.

You dressed quickly, double checking to make sure your camera was tucked away in your messenger back alongside your rainy day fund, and set out only to stop short at the sight of the living room.

Bottles were strewn all about the place along with cards scattered alongside them. Letting out a heavy sigh, you dropped your bag down onto one of the chairs as you set about cleaning the place up. You were surprised that the noise of what was surely many men hadn’t woken you up. You had had a long day, though. The fresh wad of bills sitting in your bag proof of that.

The bottles clanked together as you gathered up as many as you could, taking them out to be washed later. Coming back inside, you glanced over to observe the state of the kitchen, the sight having a growl leaving your throat before you could stop it. Plates were stacked high in the sink, and you knew you’d have to take care of them now lest they stink up the place for the rest of the day. The last thing you needed to deal with was unwanted pests in your home.

You actually enjoyed doing the dishes, if you were being honest. It was time to let your mind wander, plotting your way out without being disturbed. No one wanted to be drawn in to helping, of course. So you washed and scrubbed in silence as the noise outside picked up with the late morning. You wouldn’t get to the bank until this afternoon, at this rate. That left little time to go snooping for your next lead, which left you more irritated than before.

You drained the sink once you were done, wiping your hands with the dishcloth with a grimace. You’d have to do laundry tomorrow. Another chore left for you to take care of.

Perhaps you wouldn’t be so quick to want to leave if it wasn’t only you holding this place together. Your brother had been your rock once upon a time, but then your mother had passed due to illness and your father followed her not long after. Of course, you had been devastated, but you took it upon yourself to be the strong one after Jack fell apart. He started drinking then. It had only been one here or there, but it quickly grew into several bottles a night, and no amount of begging would get him to stop. So you quit trying.

It had come to a head only a year ago when you came home early to find your room tossed upside down, anything of value missing along with Jack. It was a week before he came home.

You had learned your lesson, and now you bided your time until you could withdraw your money and make a break for it. The sun shone down on you as you began the trek into town, dreaming of the day you would make this journey for the last time.

A/N: Just something to tide you guys over until I can formulate the next chapters of By Its Cover and Fool's Fare. I'm excited for this one though!

If you would like to receive notifications on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @sailoraviator-library ) and turn on post notifications! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. You can find all of my works on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

[hsvh-hp]

You know I agree with you that fanon paints Lucius as a much worse father than he was and I don't like that either, but do you not think indoctrinating your child into a genocidal cult + coldly demanding that he be the best in class and publicly humiliating him about that ("if [my son's] grades don't pick up, a thief or a plunderer] may indeed be all he is fit for") is bad parenting?

Like I'm not saying "he is a bad parent" or "he is a good parent", I'm very hesitant to label parents (real or fictional) in such a one-dimensional way because parent-child relationships are so incredibly complicated. But at the same time it is very important to me to acknowledge even little things parents can do that can really have a negative impact on children. And indeed in Draco's case they do, leading him to want to be a Death Eater, to seek validation from Voldemort (when he disarms Dumbledore he talks about wanting to be the Dark Lord's favourite, he doesn't want help from Snape because he has a need to prove himself etc) and contributing to his general insecurity and need to be better than everyone & getting upset when he's not, because if he's not the best all the time then he feels really bad.

One big reason I dislike the fanon tendency to make every morally questionable parent an extremely physically abusive monster is precisely because that erases the representation of how the smaller, psychologically/emotionally damaging things they do can still be traumatising.

It goes without saying that there’s nuance. I would never say nor claim that Lucius did nothing wrong or didn’t make mistakes. By mere virtue of holding bigoted beliefs, he signaled to Draco that there were things he could do or be that might undermine his father’s love. To me, it doesn’t even matter if Lucius is otherwise perfect as a father. That small thing, in a kid as needy for love and validation as Draco is, would be enough to have him always on edge and anxiously performing his role as the perfect son to the best of his ability.

My earlier frustration was a pushback against the need to inflate Lucius’ less-great moments into overtly obvious abuse (we are very much in agreement there), as fanon seems to love to do without a hint of introspection or greater analysis. I’m so bored of complicated behaviour being filed away into a thought-terminating box called ‘abuse’, where a sole instance of someone being a grumpy, imperfect dad (the Borgin & Burke’s scene) is all that’s required to put a character on the same level as men who actually do beat their sons. It’s not given a greater thought.

For instance, you bring up Draco’s indoctrination into the Death Eaters, and his eagerness to join. This is a very interesting conundrum for Lucius to me because Voldemort is back for an entire year before Draco signs up. Lucius is in Azkaban at the time, unable to exert any influence over Draco’s decision, and Voldemort explicitly brings Draco into the fold as a form of punishment for Lucius. We have no access to Lucius’ head as readers, but he had an entire year afterward to sit and think about how he failed Draco. He’s a smart guy. I’m sure he could put it together that his bigotry came very close to costing his son his life. Considering the Malfoys sit alongside the winners of the war in the Great Hall, it speaks to me of some greater narrative reflection on Lucius’ part to have earned himself a place there.

The point is, I’ve never seen that Lucius in fic before. I crave that Lucius, who can realize his mistakes and grow or change as a result (and is brave enough not to let the lateness of its arrival dictate the terms). It’s very important to me that growth not be something exclusive to a certain age (16 and under? 18? I’ve seen people argue that Draco was no longer redeemable at 12 LMAO). So yeah, feeling alone in this sentiment occasionally bubbles up and I forget to articulate all the nuance of the subject when engaging with it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[succulentsiren]

Hey Siren!

(Can I adress you like that???) I hope you are having a great time wherever you are. What advice would you give to someone that has never dated before and has no experience with romantic relationships? Please be a little more detailed that just take it slow and bla bla bla. I already know that, but I want to get know something I could not know if I have never dated before. Some inside knowledge, if you will. Please excuse any possible spelling mistakes I have dyselxia .

Take care!

Lots of love from here!

What do you think the most important advice always is for a beginner driver? ! To take your time and take it slow i

You don't know how many people wished they would've heard this advice before engaging with the wrong person.

It's not just senseless advice. Dating isn't something to be rushed through. It takes time to get to know someone, to see if they're the right fit for you, if your lifestyles align, to understand how they feel about you, if you want to spend years of your life with this person, etc.

If you rush through the process (especially if you've never dated/driven before you'll end up crashing. The same applies to dating. Let it happen slowly and naturally.

More Advice For Unexperienced Daters

• Create standards by making a list of what you require before entering a relationship and when you do find what you're looking for, keep your standards! You must have a backbone when dating because you will be tested to see if you will fold or not. Never let them intimidate or pressure you into anything. Vet them and do background checks as well. Again, take your time to feel it out and don’t be afraid to let people go. There’s plenty more, qualified, fish in the sea.

• Learn to read the red flags and escape before it's too late. Pay attention to their manners towards you and towards other people. If he/ she disrespects other women, it's a sign they'll do that to you. If they're abrasive towards their mothers, it'll show up later in the relationship. If they have a cigarette, alcohol or weed addiction, they are weak willed and get easily distracted. If they don't court you, they're not that interested. If they're trying to force you into their religion, they're trying to control you.

• Learn to read the green flags. If they want to get to know you, without sexual demands, they're likely more interested in forming a genuine relationship. If they make a promise and actually keep it, they're reliable. If they treat the women in their lives well, it shows that they are respectful. If they don't push you into doing anything before you're ready or uninterested, they're not trying to control you.

• The minute you don't like something SPEAK UP and say something. Communication is key. Many relationships fails because of misunderstandings and emotional immaturity. But they're are also many relationships that thrive because they value healthy communication and speaking life into each other.

• Get with someone who respects your pace. Never ever commit to changing yourself for the pleasure of someone else, especially if they're pressuring, criticizing or downplaying you. Free yourself by leaving them behind.

• Keep your independence. Never get to the point in ANY relationship, where you're dependent on that person for the responsibility of your well-being. Remain self sufficient. Earn your own money (even if it's a small side hustle) and have your own individual hobbies, friends and activities.

• Stay mysterious. Don’t tell them everything about you on the first date. Let it be earned. Share more parts of yourself, with time, as you get to know each other.

[nuggetofthesea]

Chapter: "The Dark Witch's warning"

The Dark Witch, they called her. Known throughout Hyper city for many reasons. Transformation services, potions, her eerie appearance, the tower in which she resides, but more importantly, her affinity for monsters.

Creatures of the night, eldritch horrors, spirits, the witch has a fascination with them all. Often labeled as dangerous just for existing, sometimes actually dangerous, but always interesting.

That witch is Iris. Iris is hyper city's transformation witch and has a Fondness of all things supernatural and arcane. One of the darkmage nugget system, famous for running a studio that houses a lab underneath. Years before Animal HRT hit hyper city, It was when the original owner of the body, Ashe offered herself as an experiment to the lab owner, the witch appeared. And the rest of us.

Ashe, the original host. Former human. Now kitsune. Runs the darkmage nugget studio. She now has the ability to change her shape at any time. Uses it to be a fox.

Iris, the dark witch with a skill for energy manipulation and transformation. Needs her magic to transform unlike Ashe. But now owns the body after Ashe couldn't feel connected to it.

Aqua, an elf with strong connection to the sea and a desire to write. Trapped in nightmares for 15 years before the experiments. Leaving her a walking shadow at times.

Chaos, a destructive gremlin hellbent on causing mayhem. Trouble find us and she is the first to step up to the fight.

Mira, A crystal fairy construct capable of multiplying herself up to 30 identical copies. Organizes things in our head.

Aria, former strong silent type, now basically a puppy with muscles. Sweet, but still willing to protect everyone.

We were always a presence in Ashe's head since she was young. But the experiments brought us to the front. 6 souls inhabiting the body of the dark witch. When we aren't in the studio, or around town, we reside in Iris' tower just off the park in hyper city. a round tower that sits in the middle of a small yard fenced off with stone. A witch hat made of bricks covers the top of the tower, that overlooks the city and the surrounding woods.

Iris in particular though, found herself with a curiosity she needed to satisfy. The monsters and mysteries of hyper city. Is there more too them? More than meets the eye? In some instances, she also found herself weirdly attracted by the monsters that roam the city. Finding beauty where the rest of the world shuns away. This led to her often interacting with those cast out. Those who aren't human. And hyper city was the perfect place to satiate that desire for the unknown.

A city in the center of realities, in the middle of all possibilities. Iris soon was going to make the possibilities hers. She was often seen making deals or helping out the various creatures and horrors she came across. Earning her the title of… "The Dark Witch" as most humans began to fear her. At least until they know her. Then they realize, magic aside, She's actually very friendly when she wants to be. And even helped in making the animal HRT her friends have utilized to transform their bodies to their will.

This though was the move that led to this encounter.

One particularly stressful day, Ashe had left the studio to head home. But was on her way to stop for some food and anything heavily caffeinated. (Required for all the things we do).

As she turned a corner she found her heart suddenly sinking. every nerve in her body in shock. Frozen in fear as the fur on her paws and tails stood on end. Something was coming. Quickly, Ashe began to call to Iris. This was her specialty after all. Iris quickly came to front. Taking a moment to make the body hers again as she wasn't used to using Ashe's paws or her tails. Summoning her staff, she questioned what was around that corner.

Only to see a sad looking eldritch creature. Keeping an ear out, she could hear people around calling the being a freak or hiding in fear. they looked ready to cry. A quick read of her energy and Iris knew she wasn't a threat. But to everyone else, She looked like the most horrifying thing they could see.

Not iris. iris had the ability to read aura's by concentrating on a person's energy. And hers was all over the place. But Iris recognized a small hint in the overwhelmingly powerful aura of fear. Some of that energy, was hers. Twisted and distorted by some outside forces, but this definitely the result of the Animal HRT tablets. But wherever she got these ones, they had very little of the original left, and it was extremely powerful.

"FREAK! MONSTER! get out of here!" was shouted at her from those she passed. And iris was growing quite tired of this. using her staff, gem glowing on the end strongly, she called on a circle with a single word.

"Mute" Iris said as the spell was cast. Suddenly, the sounds of the crowd were drowned out. All went silent. Though they still moved. A temporary effect, but just enough for them to take notice of Iris just there. A glare from the glowing yellow eye piercing the gaze of the crowd as they pieced together what had happened and ran.

"Hey. You okay?" Iris asked the horror before her.

No response as she was a bit confused as to what was happening. What was with this witch? even magical beings tend to fear her.

"Don't know where you are heading. But that had to get pretty annoying. I'm Iris. your name is?"

…

She began to speak up. Looking to figure this situation out.

"Mars. Alright. What's your angle."

Not even realizing the distortion she was doing with her face and the accidental piercing stare with her eyes.

"I'm a witch who can see into your very being past the admittedly strong fear aura you emit. But beyond that, I have a pretty big interest both in what you are, and where you got your humanity removal treatment."

"WHAT!? How do you-" "My energy is all over that fear aura. but you definitely got that from somewhere i haven't given that info to. you don't have to talk here, especially with others watching.. But know I am someone you can turn to and want to support you."

Iris reaches into the air and snaps her fingers. in a small flame a card appears in her hands.

"My tower is just past the woods in the park. if you ever need help, look me up and use that card to come to my tower."

"I'll consider it. But for now, I need to get going. I'm running late as is." Mars responds. not knowing what to make of this conversation and wanting to leave it as soon as possible.

"That's fine. But I do need you to know…" Iris' eyes turn to mars her one eye showing more piercing than ever. "Something latched on to a spell i created."

Perhaps you know what happened to make it so, but there are probably eyes on you. The tower is blocked from all outside eyes. No matter how powerful. If you need help, Do not hesitate to seek it."

Iris then begins to walk away. Leaving more questions than answers with Mars. Iris did always like being a little cryptic. Not many know what is going on in her head. But one thing she always takes seriously is when someone messes with her spells.

End Chapter

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

I wanted to do more to establish Iris. And Mars' ( @dawning-mars ) latest page brought a few ideas I've wanted to write down for a few days now. One moment of "Why would ancient texts spawn a modern pill bottle" thoughts later, this story was born. Had fun writing again as usual. ^-^

[wombatwisdom]

Words of Love

I would like to dig into the idea of "love" a little bit. This word gets bandied about quite a bit and I fear we all mean something different.

Part 1: Anita

After the oranges but before the cream pie to the face, Anita Bryant (an infamous anti-gay advocate in Dade County Florida) gave us these delightful words: "I love homosexuals. Its the sin of homosexuality that I hate" and "I don't hate homosexuals. I love them enough to tell them the truth: that God puts them in the category with other sinners".

Anita's "love" for the LGBTQ+ community prompted her to advocate against their basic human rights to employment and housing without discrimination in the 1970s. And her "Save the children" campaign was largely successful--at least in Dade County. Her influence can still be felt today in a lot of right wing canards (you can even see her shadow in the 2024 LDS policy of exclusion).

There is something compelling about Anita's version of "love". She loves the "sinner" enough to tell them the truth, to teach them, to coerce them back to righteousness. She loves them enough to hand them the tough realities of life.

Anita could probably point to scriptures and religious thinkers to support her brand of love. Sinners don't fare well according to the bible, so wouldn't our "love" motivate us to try and save them? Wouldn't you want to spare a loved one or even a stranger the horrors of eternal damnation and suffering?

Parents intercede for their children to keep them out of harms way. Isn't it loving to tell kids that cigarettes are harmful? Isn't it loving to remind children of the dangers of drinking and driving? Don't parents owe it to their children to protect them from harm from external or internal sources?

A cogent reader might be able to spot the difference here. There is a difference between loving someone by "informing of harm" and advocating for a removal of rights. Further more, this "love" is being conflated for control (however well intentioned), and learning to love without controlling is probably the most challenging part of parenting. But even more, our positions on cigarettes have shifted as science has provided more insights into their harm, similarly, as evidence has mounted showing the positive impacts of living authentically as an LGBTQ+ person, so to have publicly held stigmas and misunderstanding changed.

But, crucially, to Anita, she would maintain that she loves gay people and was motivated by love. It is not her problem that you may not agree with her definitions.

Part 2: Joanne

Before the Cyber bullying lawsuit and after the wild success of Harry Potter, JK Rowling published her attempt at "explaining" the maelstrom of social media debate that had sprung up around her. In the halcyon days of the early pandemic, JK Rowling tweeted almost-compassionate sentiments towards trans people such as: "I respect the right of every transgender person to live life in a way that makes them feel authentic and comfortable with themselves. I would march with you if you were discriminated against because you are transgender."

And in her "essay" published in July of 2020 (which was at one point entitled "TERF Wars" I'm almost certain, but has since been renamed), she specifically cites a transgender acquaintance whom Joanne calls "wonderful". And yet all this lip service to "respect" and "wonderfulness" has yielded some rather caustic twitter discourses, significant contributions to a increasingly transphobic political culture, and even some good old holocaust denialism.

Joanne's "love" (or she would call it "respect") seems to come if she deems it earned. My read is that for Joanne, transitioning should take a long time, require extreme levels of vetting (both internally and externally), and will only be achieved adequately by a relatively small number of people. Besides, if this population is so tiny, then we shouldn't have to accommodate them at the expense of everyone else's comfort. Love, it would seem, is a numbers game.

I do think Joanne's point about knowing a transwoman personally, should not go unremarked. She herself admits that she has met young trans people who she finds "adorable". And yet, even as we cheer for Brene Brown's "it's hard to hate someone up close", Joanne's behavior seems to suggest otherwise. She does know and respect the wonderful and adorable trans people in her circles, but that does not mean that they should have space to exist comfortably.

Joanne shows us that loving someone on a personal level is not the same thing as loving the group they represent. Furthermore, we all love someone close to us but don't agree with every thing they do. We question clothing choices, food preferences, parenting techniques, movies watched, books read, time wasted. To Joanne loving someone does not mean you need to advocate for then.

To Joanne, love is a limited resource and so who is loved and how they are loved must be chosen carefully. Joanne believes to make space for trans people comes at the expense of woman and girls, and don't woman and girls need to be loved too? There are more cis woman and girls than trans people. When love is scarce, than it follows that certain groups must be dismissed and harassed, I suppose.

Part 3: Dallin

Before his inevitable ascent to become the next prophet and after worriedly writing in the 1980's that "one generation of homosexual "marriages" would depopulate a nation...Our marriage laws should not abet national suicide", Dallin H Oaks gave a rather love-focused address in the most recent general conference (Oct 2024, Saturday morning session). He urged for us to remember the first two commandments and to avoid political contention by being peacemakers, despite the fact that he was involved, at least in part, with the recent transphobic policy put in place by the Church a few weeks ago.

My fear here is Dallin, lawyer that he is, has left a lot of words to be defined by the listener. What does it mean to be a peacemaker? What does it mean to avoid contention? And what does it mean to love?

From talks given in the past, Dallin's position seems similar to Anita and Joanne. Dallin's concern is getting people to the celestial kingdom which means that certain people need to be reminded that the way they are will not be compatible with that place. This is a thought birthed from love--he loves people enough to tell them what God expects from them! He's also keenly aware that there is a gulf forming in society and he's got to choose which one to protect because love is scarce, and given the voices he chooses to amplify (see the letter he reads in this young adult fireside), he stands with his more conservative base.

Dallin's love may be short sighted and biased, but he probably doesn't think so. He thinks his motivations are on the side of the angels and who am I to disagree, arguably he knows heaven better than I do.

But you may not find Dallin's version of love very uplifting or meaningful. You may find it motivated more from fear or bias, and perhaps your version of love has space for inclusion and multiple paths, but here is the kicker: your definitions and positions on love have limited reach.

Dallin's love is amplified in multiple languages all over the world every six months at least. When he speaks, people listen and to some degree internalize what he's saying. Dallin knows gay and trans people, he has a grandson that is openly gay, and still he shows his love this way.

Dallin has power and influence in this community and so his version of love gets elevated and replicated. Every six months we get the privilege of grappling with his love and decide what to do with it. Dallin's love comforts a certain subset of the audience while alienating others. His influence will eventually fade, but then we will need to move on to someone else's version of love and that is always a gamble.

Part 4: You

In queer spaces the individuals I have mentioned are often heavily criticized. And from my perspective rightfully so. Their actions and words have costs and inflicted damages our community routinely has to bear. But we need to be aware that our criticism that they should be more "loving" might not land where we would hope it does. They do, in their own definition, act out of love.

Their definitions certainly don't align with most of ours, but we don't often take the time define what we mean by love. And in writing this, I have come to realise that love contains multitudes: both good and bad--and holding people to my definitions just leads to unmet expectations.

What I have learned from this review is to acknowledge the differences in what love can be--I am less interested in love now but motivation and impact. Much of what I do in "love" is actually more motivated by a desire for "safety", "acceptance" or "belonging", which can have mixed results. I need to demonstrate, not to Anita, Joanne or Dallin, but to those in my life that the outcomes of certain "love" can be damaging and negative for me. I now know to avoid or be skeptical of the outcomes of Anita's, Joanne's and Dallin's love, but I also know that they don't think themselves unloving, so trying to convince them to "love" more is a fruitless exercise.

Perhaps, we become peacemakers when we hear the heartbreak of our neighbors and find ways to partner with them to build solutions. But ultimately, all of these words are up to you and how you wield them is your choice--but the fruits of your love will be decided by those who stumble across them and you cannot control how they will be received.

[ya-zz]

*stares at you* this is a request, but you really don't have to write a lot, I'm just curious to see you write Ramattra receiving a kiss on his faceplate from reader for the first time 🧍‍♂️

*stares back*

Ramattra is a big softie at heart, change my mind.

Ramattra x Reader (gen)

Word count: 1307

He hated you, and not just because you were human, but because you avoided him. He’d watch you speak with other omnics, friendly tones and laughing to their stories when needed. Yet, with him, you were cold, avoiding his look whenever he was around with the same group. 

He knew his model didn’t have the best reputation, but he wasn’t like that now. He was kinder, more helpful towards humans, however you wouldn’t see it, or at least that’s what he thought. You never spoke to him, always cowering whenever he got too close. 

At some point, he gave up, no longer wanting to pursue a friendship with you, however, something inside of him hurt, like he was heartbroken. At first, when he saw you, he noticed how well put together you were, your warm smile that brought others together, a friendly aura around you… When he was around, he noticed that change, almost as if you feared him. 

You never gave him a chance and he was desperate to prove to you he was no longer a ravager, a killing machine. He wanted you to know he had thoughts and emotions of his own too. 

So, Ramattra would start small, a simple greeting as he passed you in the corridor, bowing his head as a friendly gesture. He’d stay quiet when you were in the same group, optics looking at you but thankfully hidden behind his faceplate. He wouldn’t utter a word unless spoken to, but his optics would stay on you despite his head being turned away and he’d catch small glimpses of you looking at him, a small fear present in your eyes. 

His tone never faltered with you, always friendly and inviting. It was slow, and he would admit that it was painfully slow, but trust wasn’t something earned over night, and he knew that. He kept it up, almost like an entirely new schedule to follow. 

Progress seemed like something that was never going to happen until you greeted him back after a few weeks. Ramattra nearly stopped as he heard you reply back to him, a smile would have been on his face if he could express such emotions. You finally acknowledged him and that sent a warm feeling though his wires. 

Finally, I am getting somewhere…

It took longer to speak to him properly though, however, he noticed that you’d look at him with a kinder expression, an awkward smile occasionally, but progress was progress. 

Whenever he’d pass you now, you were the first to greet him which made his circuitry warm. As the weeks passed by, you’d talk to him within the group, sharing the warm smile with him alongside the others, yet he still noticed a slight discord inside of you.

He could no longer hate you for it, he expected many humans to have their doubts about his kind, wondering if he would ever turn against them as he had done in his past, but this was something else entirely. 

Ramattra was still cautious, not wanting to frighten you and pushing his progress back to zero. He would wait for as long as the stars burned. 

As he walked through the building, pondering his own thoughts, he looked up, dismissing files and small errors as his optics landed on you carrying a two boxes within your arms. 

“Do you require assistance?” He asked, noticing the strain in your body. He didn’t wait for an answer as he approached, taking the top most box out of your grasp. 

A relieved sigh escaped you as you straightened slightly. “Thank you.” You look up, smiling at the omnic beside you. 

“These are quite heavy.” He stated, quite surprised you managed to get this far with them in the first place.

You nodded, smiling awkwardly as you kept walking, Ramattra by your side. ”Yeah.” Was all you managed to say. 

He didn’t ask what was in them as he followed you, keeping an eye on you, making sure you were okay.

The pair of you reached your personal room, the door unlocking instantly and allowing you both inside. 

“Stuff from home.” You mention, placing your box on the table as you grab a step ladder, putting it against the half empty bookcase. 

Ramattra nodded, watching you stand on the ladder, arms open and waiting for the box. He hands you the one he carried, watching you reach up and put it on top of the bookcase. 

“Family stuff.” You spoke again, turning slightly as you pointed to the other box to which the omnic grabbed it and handed it over to you. 

“You’re not unpacking it?” He questions. 

“Not for a long time. Too much trauma behind it...” There was a gentleness in your voice as you turn and look back at him. “Could you pass me those books while you’re here?”

“Of course.” He nods once more, walking over to the table and picking up the books, briefly looking over the covers as he hands them over to you. He wants to ask more, but refrains. 

“Thank you.” You lean back slightly, careful not to go too far back in case you fell. Looking over the top shelf, you smile and step down, feet back on the floor. 

Looking at you, he notices the pain, perhaps the coldness you showed him back then was due to his kind, but of course, he stayed silent, not wanting to push you away. 

“I’m sorry.” You broke through the silence. “For how I acted.”

“It is understandable.” He moves his hand, motioning that it’s alright. 

You nod, looking at him for a moment. “I’ve been wanting to apologise for awhile…” 

“You are always welcome to talk to me.” He tilts his head to the side slightly, a friendly gesture.

“Thank you. You have been so patient, I wish there was something I could do to make up for all of that.”

“You do not need to do anything. I understand your reasonings.” He takes a small step forward, watching you. 

Shaking your head, you speak up. “I insist, really. I may not be able to do much, but I feel terrible.” 

“Nonsense.” He puts a hand on your shoulder, wanting to comfort you, pushing the boundaries a little. “Your emotions were warranted. Do not feel ashamed for it.” 

Looking up at him, you smile gently, hands coming up and wrapping around his back as you hug him. At first, Ramattra seemed surprised, but brought his own hands around you, pulling you a little closer. 

“You’re too kind, Ramattra.” You speak, voice muffled against his chest. His chest vibrated a little as he chuckled, making you look up at him again. 

He felt warm inside and not just because of the warmth from your body, but the way your hands felt, slowly trailing up his chest, gently gripping the purple metal of his cheeks as you pulled him down, planting a soft kiss to his forehead. 

Ramattra felt his fans pick up speed, whirring quickly yet softly as he heated up a little more, the lights on his forehead flickering gently. The sudden gesture caught him off guard, however it wasn’t unwelcomed as he rested his forehead against yours, a soft vibration tickling you. If he had the ability to blush, his cheeks would be turning pink. 

The rise and fall of your chest made him hold you just a little bit tighter, your heartbeat soothing him as his optics looked over you, noticing the peacefulness on your face that was still pressed to his. He didn’t want to let go, not now or ever. The softness of your body only warmed him more, feelings surfacing that he hadn’t felt for years. He finally felt content, somewhat proud he waited for you.

Progress was progress and he made quite a lot in one day…

[windvexer]

Hi Chicken, would you be willing to help me interpret a one card reading? (If not feel free to ignore this ask I just didn't want to waste your time by sending 2 separate asks haha ^^)

I asked what spell would be most efficient for a situation for a friend who needs a job quickly, and I got the eight of pentacles reversed. I'm kind of having a hard time imagining what spell that would be? Or maybe it's implying that the spell is gonna be botched anyway (?)

Hi, I don't mind. You've given me a chance to talk about predicting the future with tarot ^-^

As the 8/Pentacles is often a card of mastery, sometimes also taken to read diligence and professionalism, 8/Pents reversed might indicate something like, "don't worry about the next career step; anything will do," or, "cast a broad net and don't only focus on the skillset [friend] is perceived to have."

Additionally, more historical meanings of the 8/Pents reversed can indicate usury (unfair money lending practices), someone being extorted of money, being swindled, and so on. This is balanced with the upright meaning that focuses more on small amounts regularly obtained.

Given this, potential interpretations are:

The most efficient quick job spell for your friend is one that

Defends against fake job listings, get-rich-quick "commission" type jobs, MLM schemers, and so forth

Specifically focuses on stable, regular income - rather than a "type" of job

Doesn't back itself into a corner trying to achieve "at least earning $X.XX a month" intents, but rather focuses on something like, "earning a stable paycheck within the next Y period."

Isn't throttled with too many conditions.

As a little bit of tarot technique, I generally don't like to give the deck permission to ignore my question and provide its own answers. Therefore, the card you drew should have to be an answer to your question.

However, you can give your deck (and your own concerns) an easy outlet by drawing additional omen cards that foretell the outcome of the spell, or sort of 'windsock' cards that show which way fate is blowing.

An example spread might have 3 cards:

Current chances of my magical effort assisting

The most efficient type of job spell

Outcome if I cast that spell

Bad omens or negative outcomes can also be more deeply understood to gain a greater grasp of the situation. However, IMO this also requires a framework of interpreting future readings and how your actions can change them.

I find a solid way to read many omens is, "the future as it is likely to occur based on current circumstances and our own understanding of the situation."

This means that if outcome cards are undesirable, that's not necessarily the final outcome.

In fact I believe it is much more difficult to interpret an absolute final outcome, versus finding a likely path forward that you can then map and plan for (or, choose a new route altogether).

An example for the above 3-card draw might be, the current chances of magical effort assisting are high (let's say a great omen - the Sun). The job spell card is average (3/cups - networking!).

However, let's imagine the outcome card is an awful omen. 5/Cups - dejection; failure.

One possible read here is that while the outcome of your magic will be helpful, a simple job spell isn't going to help at all. If the tarot is showing you that bridge is broken, there can still be other paths that safely traverse the gorge.

After all, in a purely hypothetical situation, what if the job loss was due to your friend making, and accidentally breaking, a pact with a local nature spirit? You could still help with your magic, but not with a job spell. The outcome for any job spell would be poor. Instead, magic for diplomacy (7/wands), mending a relationship (2/cups), or appeasing a spirit with offerings (9/cups; 6/pents) might appear instead. You know?

Such troubleshooting readings might include questions like, "what kind of preliminary magic would be most helpful to prepare the way for a job to manifest in [friend's] life," or "what hidden problems are happening here that need to be banished or unblocked?"

And so on.

Best of luck to the both of you!

[lalalian]

ranking & schools | aethergarde academy dr school program

date: july 17, 2024

assignment type: reading + questions

hellloooo! welcome to your second assignment, today, we'll just be getting directly into the notes. Please answer the questions at the end of the assignment-- with a minimum of 75 words per question. This assignment is due by next Wednesday, July 24th.

CHAPTER I - SCHOOLS & RANKING

AETHERGARDE ACADEMY

You may know by now that the most famous dragon rider school is Aethergarde Academy. Aside from the fact that it's student body almost entirely consist of S-ranked riders, what else is special about Aethergarde Academy? Aethergarde's magic curriculum is known to be the most rigorous out of most schools out there-- the fact that a student must earn a passing score on a glyph course-- the fact there even is a glyph course-- is only a small part of why it's such a well-known and prestigious school.

Aethergarde Academy was founded by Deana Exalos Empyrigate, Alec Mathis Helvengrim, Len Catalina Qaruiabrim (Olena is now simply Len), and Gladyes Tybees Gaiangrove, essentially the entirety of the Guardian hunting clan besides for Jean Lune Kashmir, after the death of Mikhael Sol Kashmir. Aethergarde not only was created to live out Sol Kashmir's last wish, but started out as an academy for all riders, no matter what rank; this changed as more riders turned to Aethergarde to seek a career as an official dragon rider. Eventually, four other academies were created in a similar likeness to Aethergarde-- you may know these academies as Empyrigate Academy, Helvengrim Academy, Qaruiabrim Academy, and Gaiangrove Academy.

Aethergarde Academy has a strict no bribery and a fair admission process-- this means that any teacher or staff that has received bribery from a student/a student's family is immediately fired from the academy, and the student must be relocated to a different school. This rule is called the Solemis Policy. If a student's cheated or engaged in bribery in Aethergarde Academy, said student cannot attend Empyrigate Academy, Helvengrim Academy, Qaruiabrim Academy, or Gaiangrove Academy. They must enroll in an academy for lower tiered riders. Recently, students from these schools (Empyrigate, Helvengrim, Qaruiabrim, and Gaiangrove) were held to the same rule.

AETHERGARDE'S MAGIC CURRICULUM

As mentioned previously, Aethergarde requires it's students to master the basics of glyph magic-- no other school does this purely because of how difficult this kind of magic is. Glyph magic is also quite a recent magic technique-- although it has existed for thousands of years, even the most talented scholars were unable to make sense of them for the longest time. Aside from glyph magic, Aethergarde focuses on the movement of mana in the aura, the mental image, and security*.

*You'll learn these characteristics in detail in a different chapter*

RANKING

How does ranking determine what schools a student is invited to? A student is not invited to schools like Aethergarde simply because 'S-tier riders are better than other riders'-- Students with a high mana capacity flourish more in academies that prepare them for the jobs that only an S-ranked rider could do best.

No matter how hard an E-ranked rider or even a human works at becoming part of the Thorns, they could never be as qualified as an S-ranked rider that works equally as hard. An E-ranked rider cannot form spells higher than II-- in comparison, an S-tier rider are able to hold V tier spells, Six, after proper schooling, they could hold a level II ranked spell in their sleep.

The separation may seem a little dystopian, but it is simply because of skill set differences. Lower ranked riders are taught more heavily in laws and government, while higher tier riders are taught how to harness their power safely and in a useful way.

It's important to realize that higher ranked riders do not have to become protectors. If an S-tier rider doesn't feel that they belong in violent spaces, that rider can easily choose not to.

RANKING: CAPABILITES AND ASSETS

There are six rankings, starting from the weakest to the most powerful, they are as follows:

E, D, C, B, A, and of course, S.

Note that: We are discussing riders that are in the Eudora Empire, and spell capability limits are after proper schooling.

E-ranked riders

E-ranked riders are slightly stronger than the average human. It's pretty much impossible for lower ranked riders to bond to dragons that have higher mana capacities purely because their soul cannot match those dragons' at all. It's possible for higher ranked riders to bond to lower ranked dragons; however, it's not common. E-ranked riders who work hard to learn magic typically struggle to cast spells III and above after schooling, though a generous portion of E-ranked riders struggle to cast a level II spell. E-ranked riders cannot cast AOE spells, even if it's level I.

D-ranked riders

D-ranked riders are stronger than the average human. They are able to cast level III spells at the most, but are unable to hold them for long. D-ranked riders can cast AOE I-II spells after schooling.

C-ranked riders

C-ranked riders typically are desired in lower ranked soldier roles. They're not terribly strong, but they aren't weak. C-ranked riders can cast level III AOE spells and can cast level IV if they specialize in magic after schooling. These riders are also considered mid-tier.

B-ranked riders

B-ranked riders are considered to be higher ranked. Generally, they work to protect more important cities and are often hired to protect a noble family as a knight. A B-ranked rider can enroll in Empyrigate Academy, Helvengrim Academy, Qaruiabrim Academy, or Gaiangrove Academy. These riders can conjure spells up to level V with enough training, and can cast AOE spells up to level IV after schooling. B-ranked riders may also receive marriage proposals from lower noble families.

A-ranked riders

A-ranked riders often work for dukes or royals-- many marry into higher noble families as well. They can cast level V spells with enough training, but can also cast another spell (levels I-III) at the same time. They can cast AOE spells up to level V. An A-ranked rider can enroll in Empyrigate Academy, Helvengrim Academy, Qaruiabrim Academy, or Gaiangrove Academy.

S-ranked riders

S-ranked riders are the most well known kind of riders out there. The highest ranked S-tier riders are incredibly unique in how they fight, think, or even how they cast spells. S-ranked riders can easily cast multiple spells after schooling, and are able to cast level VI spells. S-tier riders can cast AOE spells up to level Vi, but more comfortably at level V. S-ranked riders are the most desirable marriage candidate and/or knight; they typically always enroll in Aethergarde Academy. An S-ranked rider can enroll in Empyrigate Academy, Helvengrim Academy, Qaruiabrim Academy, or Gaiangrove Academy if they refuse to enroll in Aethergarde Academy.

Oki doki, so idk if this was long enough or not, I hope so? I kinda struggled writing this bc I felt like I was talking about the things I've already written down in the script T-T

Here are the questions! Again, please answer them by next Wednesday (July 24th).

Click me to go to the homework questions! I'll have grades out as soon as I can.

Also like another announcement-- No assignment this Friday! I'm flying out from Thailand to the U.S. to get back home... Perfect time to actually shift??? We'll see, idk LMAO

how do I see my grade?

I’ll send it through email within a few days after you submit your assignment. It should say ‘Score released: Chapter 1.1 Notes : Crit Questions’ in the sub heading of the email.

This is what you’ll see in the email! The circled statement will contain your actual score. Ignore the score at the bottom.

[roetrolls]

(Been wanting to get this lore out here for a while. Consider it... a Dream Sequence epilogue of sorts)

Hard Truths

For all her beliefs that the House of Restoration would make for a valuable point of contact amongst her fellow witches, it has taken Finala a remarkably long time to actually set foot in the place herself. 

She never was one for the city, even after the Restorer deposed of his predecessor, and the sweeps have changed her little in that regard. Still, a call from Weaver was not something to ignore. Finala was more than happy to make the trip for her former flame, and one glimpse of the young godling was enough to answer any pressing questions she may have had.

This conversation was going to require a more delicate touch than even Weaver could provide.

Father Roatus was content to set aside a room for them when she arrived, his trust in Weaver enough to negate any concerns he may have had about her. Finala suspects he did not have many, though. The man seemed a remarkably good judge of character, and she has always liked to think herself good-natured enough.

Settled in a small workroom with the woman, Finala watches her animated companion flit about the table in hopes of earning a smile from his creator. She gives him one freely, and the witch suspects this is a currency she is not reluctant to dispense.

“Lady Dreamcatcher,” Finala begins, twinkling voice pulling the goddess’ attention from her familiar. “May I call you Nymira?”

Nymira nods eagerly, folding her hands in her lap.

“I am told you are divine.” 

“Yes,” she answers slowly, the burden of her role seeming quite heavy on such delicate shoulders. “I am… the bridge between worlds.”

Finala smiles warmly at her, though the edges twinge with sympathy. “Truer than you realize, starlight.”

Nymira hesitates, uneasy to be spoken to in riddles after such a lifetime of deception. The older woman extends her hands across the table, eyes kind enough to smooth her discomfort, and the goddess places her fingers in Finala’s.

“I am a witch, Nymira. There are many places one can draw power from. But I prefer the stars. It is a magic that finds its strength in belief. I draw on constellations, clusters of energy that hold no meaning apart from those we give them. But when enough eyes turn to heaven and see a bear amidst the sky…”

She withdraws one hand to twirl it through the space between them, fingers plucking out some invisible melody. Slowly, a vision begins to manifest, an ethereal, star-studded paw condensing itself into shape around her palm. She flexes her fingers, moving each claw, then tosses her hand as if to wave the thing away and dispels the image she has conjured.

“Belief can be made manifest.”

Large black eyes bore into hers, so full of delicate hope and swirling uncertainty that Finala feels a pang of guilt tug at her heart. This is not an easy truth to share.

“You are not a goddess,” Finala admits, returning her grasp to Nymira’s and giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. “But you will be.” 

Once again, she peers into those shiny eyes, this time swarming with both confusion and relief, and the witch reaches for every soothing magic strand she can follow to weave into her words.

“Your… family,” she says, hesitating to use such a word on the duplicitous things that have so distressed such a gentle soul, “could not have believed you a goddess when they found you. You were not hatched one.”

As difficult as it is to speak, it is harder still to hear, Finala reminds herself. She owes it to the child to press on.

“But… They were convincing. They farmed belief. Whatever you began as, you are well on your way to ascension, my little godling. I know it does not erase the deceit. But I hope that, at least, is some solace. You are something more than mortal. Your identity remains.”

Nymira says nothing, staring at the table as she processes the claim. Her companion throws himself upon her hand, a hug as large as he can muster, and looks to Finala with worry.

Finala does not break the silence, waiting patiently for the godling to speak.

When at last she does, her voice is shaky. “I don’t… That can’t be true. What you are describing, your stars, surely our–– their congregation could not have been large enough.”

“I would be inclined to agree, truthfully. But I can see it in you, dear one. Some of us are more inclined towards matters of divinity, I am sure.”

“Then he could have… Father could have sensed this in me, surely? This does not make it… It was not all built on lies.”

“I suppose that could be possible, yes,” Finala concedes. To further dash the poor thing’s hopes would serve only as pointless cruelty. To ensure they are not left room to lie to her again, though, is a matter of safety. “But I do not know that he was ever aware of just how far you evolved. I do not know that he ever expected as much.”

Nymira blinks, struggling to stave off the inky tears now welling in her eyes. “This was not… Destiny, then. This was not my purpose.”

“I expect not.”

Once again, there is a silence, another question forming on the godling’s lips. Her voice comes out impossibly small. “Do I have a purpose?”

“I do not believe so. And that is a gift more beautiful than anything.”

[karniss-bg3]

Writing Prompt: hi! I was wondering if you could write something with shorter-race!Tav and Kar'niss? perhaps something like braiding hair or fetch things for him, as it might be a little difficult for him to reach the ground without hurting his spine (I imagine he gets nervous when he loses sight of Tav, only to find them sitting (or standing) right underneath him lol)

Kar’niss stood at the edge of the ravine, his many eyes scanning the distance to keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. The evening had set in which was the perfect time for him and Tav to venture out, his companion requiring specific herbs for their dinner this night which only grew on the highest ridges. Adept a climber as he was, and his charge small enough to carry, it was an easy feat to get them to where they needed to be. The gentle breeze rising from the chasm below tussled Kar’niss’ white locks over his face, the scent of dirt and grass infiltrating his nostrils. He admired the mountain range in the distance, able to enjoy the splendor of the natural surroundings he was once denied occupancy from. As time passed he began to wonder how close Tav was to finishing their foraging, taking a glance over his shoulder.

“Have you found what you needed?” Kar’niss asked.

He became perplexed when he looked around and couldn’t spy Tav anywhere in the grassy section behind him. He’d turn around in place able to do so with many legs in motion. He didn’t see any signs of Tav which caused a slight panic to bubble in his gut. Did they accidentally stumble and fall over the cliff face without his knowing? Surely he would’ve heard something. Right as he was about to start the frantic search effort, he felt a slight tickling sensation against his underbelly. The thick chitin did well to dull any sensitivity to touch on his armor but he could still detect movement against the area, allowing him some awareness. Kar’niss took a step back and leaned his torso forward, peering underneath himself. There stood Tav, a small little thing, proudly positioned under Kar’niss out of sight. They smiled and issued a cheeky finger wave.

“Had you worried, huh?”

Kar’niss exhaled and scoffed. “No. But it is a dangerous game you’re playing. I could’ve stepped on you.”

Tav chuckled. “I’ve learned how to dodge effectively, but your concern is nice all the same.” They lifted up their satchel which was packed to the brim with herbs and other plant life. “I think I have everything, I’m ready to return home.”

The drider nodded and stepped back just enough to uncover Tav from their hiding spot. He lowered his body to the ground so his companion could climb on without much struggle. They did just that, hoisting themselves in front of his rounded abdomen, their little legs kicking to afford them some momentum. They straddled his back, their hands grabbing his waist to hold fast for the ride ahead. Once Kar’niss was sure they were secured he’d turn his body and began to climb down the rock wall ahead.

It was a strange sensation for Tav, their stomach rising into their throat from the sudden change in altitude, not to mention the distribution of gravity. It was like what one may feel when going down a tall hill on a roller coaster, the g-forces closing in around the smaller figure making their head spin briefly. But it wasn’t wholly unpleasant, just strange, and they were growing more accustomed to it the more Kar’niss carried them around. They reached the bottom of the chasm which led to a pathway toward the small village they now occupied. A quiet, rural town where at first Kar’niss was a curiosity, even a threat to some. In time he managed to earn their trust and establish himself as a bizarre but harmless part of the community.

Tav pulled something out of their bag while Kar’niss was distracted, pushing themselves up enough to rest something on his head. Kar’niss paused his advance, reaching up to touch over the foreign addition.

“What is this?”

“It’s a flower crown. I found a nice collection of wild flowers that I thought suited you,” Tav explained.

The collection of flowers formed into a small wreath were lovely in color and shape. Four snow white petals with red streaks down the center of each, giving off a sweet aroma that wasn’t too pungent. Kar’niss reached up to feel over each flower, his brows knitted and confused.

“And you think this...suits me?” “Yes, very much. But you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.”

He mulled it over, unsure how he felt about the odd adornment. He’d soon shrug and left it where it was. “It is fine.”

They’d wander back into the small village, several homes dotted over the area surrounded by tall hills and mountains either side. Most people weren’t out and about after sunset which allowed Kar’niss freedom of movement without worry of getting in someone’s way. He’d take Tav to their home at the edge of town close to the treeline of the forest, an area that was designated for Kar’niss to build webs and hunt without interference. The home itself was oddly shaped, an unusually tall roof capped the wide home, the front door in a circular shape rather than a standard rectangle. It had been build with Kar’niss’ girth in mind so he could navigate without bonking his head or getting stuck. But when they went inside the interior reflected something different. Many of the counters and shelves were placed lower to the ground so Tav wouldn’t struggle to reach. The furniture also varied in size from a large padded circular couch meant for Kar’niss to curl up on alongside a smaller couch perfect for Tav’s height. It was a funny little abode, outfitted to cater to both of their needs in unison.

Once inside Kar’niss lowered enough to let Tav climb off safely, both happy to be back. Tav placed their pack down and wandered over to get the fireplace going while Kar’niss climbed up the wall of the home. The high ceiling made more sense when one noted the intricate webbing spanning either side, a place where Kar’niss could lounge and feel safe, preferring heights over being on flat ground. There was a ladder on the wall where Tav could climb and join him if they so wished, a pair of web walking boots situated nearby allowing them to traverse the sticky weave without the risk of getting stuck. Kar’niss went about repairing a hole or two in the webbing, the drider assuming a rogue draft the culprit for the tear. He’d pause and produce a little extra silk, removing the flower crown shortly there after. He’d use the silk to hang the wreath on the wall letting it dangle in place as a sort of decoration for himself. Satisfied he’d climb back down to join Tav, knowing they’d need some help to prepare their dinner.

Kar’niss watched Tav prepare the wood burning stove getting it ready to fry up some vegetables and meat. Like clock work the drider seemed to know ahead of time what Tav needed before they even asked. He’d stand nearby and retrieve seasonings from the higher shelves, passing it to Tav until the next ingredient was needed. He had watched them for a long time and studied each recipe with frightening accuracy, putting the most common ones to memory to be useful during the process. While he didn’t eat what was on offer himself he did appreciate what scents he could detect and he knew it made Tav happy.

“Thank you for taking me up to the ridge, Kar’niss. I’m sure it’s nice to wander once in a while, even if you prefer the safety of the house,” Tav said.

Kar’niss leaned down to peer over Tav’s shoulder while they cooked, his eyes observing their face in quiet contemplation. “I do not mind wandering, I just do not prefer to do so alone. Most leave me be but there are others who stare and I dislike it. Curious as they may be it’s still unnerving.”

“I can understand that. Don’t worry, if anyone gives you flack they’ll answer to me.”

Tav finished up the meal and scooped it onto a plate, a nice stir fry to end off the day. Kar’niss followed them while they sat at the small table, perfectly sized for their height. He lowered himself next to Tav, everything so minuscule compared to himself but neither party seemed to mind. Once Tav started to eat a thought dawned on them prompting them to tap their fork against the vegetables.

“Kar’niss, are you happy here?”

The question made Kar’niss cock his head to one side, perplexed. “Yes, why do you ask?”

“Well I know you are far from your place of birth, the Underdark. We had a lot of struggles on the road and it took a lot of time for you to accept that the Absolute weren’t on your side. It was a harrowing journey we took together and now that it has concluded what remains is the domestic life. I love our home, I love that we’ve found solutions to having such a large cap between our heights, and I think we’ve become content. I suppose what I’m asking...is this what you wanted?”

The drider pressed his lips into a thin line, his pedipalps coming to flex against his belly. “There are times I mourn for the Underdark. Even if much of my time there wasn’t what I’d consider happy I still hold a fondness for it. I try not to think about it because I can never return. It is a pointless kind of sadness, an outcome you can’t change.” He took a deep breath, taking time to mull over his thoughts. “Before you I was never allowed to want anything for myself. My dreams, my desires, my needs were wrapped up in someone else. Lolth and the Absolute had power over me and I didn’t dare consider anything bigger.”

Tav continued to eat while Kar’niss spoke, dabbling their lips with a napkin. “Do you now?”

He nodded. “I do. At first it was a strange feeling, even a little terrifying. The first time I had a free thought that wasn’t about one deity or the other I felt startled and somehow guilty. You helped me move through the notion of my own ideas, convinced me it wasn’t the wrong thing to do. All of a sudden I had things I wanted and I acted on them and felt happiness in doing so. To answer your question, this is what I want. I am able to live and know some sense of freedom. As for your smaller stature, it makes me nervous but not for the reasons you think. I always worry I’ll step or sit on you by mistake, it’s why everything I do is considered carefully.”

They smiled at him, their hand reaching out to rest on the side of his body. “That comforts me to hear. I never want you to feel like you’re beholden to me or anyone else. If you’re here then I want it to be because you’ve chosen this life.”

Kar’niss leaned down to nestle a kiss to Tav’s forehead, the former adventurer leaning up to meet him halfway so he’d not strain. “I do not see how I’d be better off anywhere else.”

Tav finished their meal, Kar’niss opting to take the plate and place it in the wash basin for later. As the evening drew on both began to tire. While Tav had a bedroom upstairs it wasn’t used that often and tonight was no different. Kar’niss wrapped his arms around Tav’s torso to lift them up, ascending the side of the wall toward the intricate netting on the ceiling. Tav laid out a few blankets over the silk to prevent them from getting stuck but Kar’niss would ensure such wouldn’t happen. He’d settle on his belly letting his long legs dangle over the side, sitting Tav on his pedipalps to act as a make shift seat. They were small enough where he could handle their weight easily enough.

Both were exhausted after a long day, Kar’niss hoarding the little spoon that was Tav to his chest, allowing them to relax and eventually come to rest. He’d watch them, still mulling over their prior conversation. He felt a soft smile forming on his lips, his own muscles coming to relax while he focused on the sound of Tav’s breathing, his sensitive ears even able to catch the sound of their heartbeat.

Without a doubt this was where he wanted to be, no convincing required.