#This is something I try to explain to people all the time when they give me a nervous look after I mention that I work with Loki

[arcticdementor]

Per your first sentence, I have an analogy I've been working on.

Consider a school teacher. Suppose she's teaching, say, math. Or American history. Or whatever. And the kids keep failing tests, because they keep giving similar wrong answers. Like, say, when asked to do 2x2, they give "22." Or put down as the year of Columbus's first voyage as "1942." Or whatever. There are a few possibilities as to the issue.

First, maybe the teacher isn't teaching it well. Perhaps she needs to change how she's presenting the information; find a method that communicates it to the children in a way and at a level they can comprehend. Maybe she's using too many big words, and the kid's aren't smart enough to grasp what she's saying. Or she's giving it too quickly, and hasn't repeated it enough, particularly for those kids in the back of the classroom who might not have heard it the first few times.

Second, maybe the lessons are fine, but the kids are paying more attention to something else. After all, even if you try to "make learning fun," class is still going to be a bit more boring than the alternatives, and the kids would likely rather watch TikTok videos on their smartphones instead. Maybe the kids in the back of the class have their phones carefully placed and hidden to do just that. And maybe that's where they're getting their wrong answers. Perhaps some YouTuber has started a troll campaign to convince young people that 2x2=22. Or maybe a popular rap song that drops bars about how "Columbus sailed the ocean blue/in nineteen hundred and forty-two," and it's an earworm getting stuck in the kids' heads.

The problem then is to figure out how to keep the kids off their phones in class; and if the problem is watching these videos out of class, then get the PTA on board and contact their parents to try to get enough of them to control their children's time online better.

Third, if it's not how the teacher is teaching, or bad information environment, then the only thing left is the children themselves. Maybe a whole lot of them have undiagnosed dyscalculia. Maybe they're answering "1942" instead of "1492" because dyslexia is causing them to swap the digits. Maybe a bunch of them belong in a Special Needs classroom.

Or maybe they're a bunch of troublemaking little shits who've coordinated this to mess with their teacher. They're trying to drive her to her wits' end, or maybe even sabotaging their own grades to mess with class outcome metrics to make her look bad and sabotage her continued employment. In which case the answer is to discipline them — particularly the masterminds instigating and coordinating it — until they stop.

What you don't do, in any case, is change the curriculum. You don't start accepting "2x2=22" as a "correct" answer no matter how many students put it down on their math quiz.

Do I really need to explain further how to apply this analogy to the political discussion?

You don’t get it, idiot. This AOC clap back is going to make racists develop a sense of empathy.

[nerdygirlramblings]

Hello! Ive been binging poly!141 and I keep coming back to your writing for my fix (because by now its basically an addiction😅)

I had this idea that the 141 are together with a civilian reader. And civilian reader works in retail, part time, and is mostly at home. Normally, they would be home by the time their boys came home, welcoming them with open arms, a hot plate of food, and time to rest and relax. But this time, the 141 get home early and realize where reader works: Walmart (or equivalent). Reader has been keeping this a secret cause they know its not cute like a coffee shop or cool. Its just their job. And now the most important men in their life know. Im thinking the 141 found out because they went grocery shopping and happened to come across reader or something similar to that.

I work at Walmart and it sucks🥲 thought that maybe something like this might help😅

Tysm, nonny! So happy to hear you like the writing. I hope this does your idea justice. (Walmart doesn't have stores in the UK, but they own ASDA.)

Also, thank you for my first request! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

pure fluff, bad accents (per usual)

Your boys find out you work part-time at ASDA on a random rainy Thursday in March.

You don't really need a job. All four of your lovers are officers with the British army. Prior to you, they all lived in base barracks. Prior to you, they lived fairly Spartan existences. Prior to you, most of their income sat in the bank, quietly accumulating.

They have plenty of money saved up that they love using to spoil you, when you let them. You know that if you asked, they'd give you everything, but you draw the line about asking them for an allowance like some tradwife. You want some pocket money of your own. Thus, the part-time job at the ASDA in town.

You're a people person, good at handling big personalities. You need to be to keep up with your boys. Between John's need for control, Simon's stoic dominance, Johnny's aggressive enthusiasm, and Kyle's blinding charisma, you aren't some shrinking violet. Within a week of your hire, your manager watches how you weather a nasty piece of work trying to demand concessions you aren't permitted to give and immediately puts you in customer service.

You're nearly unflappable in the face of frustrated pensioners and harried parents and entitled young professionals. Over and over, you're the one they call when a customer is going spare. Which is how your boys find out about your job.

They've been deployed for over two weeks, and you have no idea when they'll return. John had originally said they'd be gone for at least a month, so you aren't expecting them home any time soon. However, they'd come home much earlier than anyone thought, and they wanted to surprise you.

You're always so good about making the house feel like a home, with your bright smile and warm laughter, your home cooked food and soft touches in decor. You make them feel like people, not weapons, and they want to return the favor. This last deployment had been hard, and all four of your boys were missing your sweet voice and tender care. They wanted to show you that they loved and cared for you the way you always showed your love and care for them.

It was Johnny's suggestion to prep a meal for you as both a surprise and a thank you. After debrief, they pile into the car and decide to stop at ASDA for everything they need before heading home to surprise you. It's John who causes the code call.

You hear Susan's voice over the store-wide address system. "We could use a little Sunshine in the floral department." That's your cue. You finish with the pensioner at your till as Jacob, your manager, comes over to relieve you.

You take a deep breath and square your shoulders. In your experience, a Sunshine call in floral is a man angry the store doesn't have the fancy arrangements listed on the website. You wish the signage on the site would be more clear that the beautiful bouquets are online orders only. It would save you having to explain why the offers in store are so limited.

You hear him before you see him, smokey voice grumbling, "But if they show the bloody thing on the site as available, you should have it hear." You'd recognize the voice anywhere. He's not angry, not really, but Susan doesn't know that. Add in the sheer size of him, and Simon looming over his shoulder, it's no wonder she called for support.

You have never wanted to walk away from a situation as much as you want to right now, but before you can make an escape, Susan notices you over John's shoulder. Her little wave is enough for your men to notice, and they turn as one to see you coming towards them. Immediately their demeanor shifts. Simon's back sags as though his strings were cut, leaving him loose-limbed. John stands a little straighter, chin up as if to impress you. They've both broken out in smiles, though Simon's are only evidenced by the laugh lines you know to look for. It's only as you get close do they zero in on the badge on your shirt.

"I've got this, Susan," you say to your co-worker. "Jacob's on my till. Can you cover?"

Susan wrings her hands. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay and-"

"They're nothing I can't handle," you tell her, cutting off her worried rambles. There's a cheeky glint in your eye as you flick your gaze at your men. You clap your hands together and say, "Right, let's get this settled, then."

Susan takes one quick look between you and the now slightly less intimidating men and heads towards the front of the store.

Once she's out of earshot, John's face breaks into a frown. "What're you doing here, love?" He glances at your name on your chest again. "You work here?" He sounds almost hurt by the revelation. You can tell Simon wants to reach for you, and the only thing stopping him is you working.

You hear heavy footfalls behind you as Johnny's Scottish lilt reaches your ears. "Och, Cap! Ye said ye'd only be a moment. Gaz and I had a hell of a time getting the trolley on its lift ta find ye. How hard is it to buy bon..." His question dies on his lips as you turn around. "Bonnie?" He, too, sounds hurt to find you working here.

You can see Kyle over Johnny's shoulder, confusion written across his features. This is not how you wanted your boys to find out about your job, if you ever wanted them to actually find out. You thought maybe you'd surprise them with tickets to Hereford FC's opening game in a few months. And if they asked how you afforded them, you could handle this conversation then, but it's out of your hands now.

And as much as you don't want to have this conversation, especially not in the middle of the floral department, you can't stop the wide grin at seeing your boys again, home and whole.

"Hi, boys," you say, opening your arms. Disappointed he might be about finding you here, Johnny's no fool. He immediately steps into your embrace, and the others quickly follow suit. You're swallowed up by the smell and feel of them. The hug lasts one minute. Then two. Then they all slowly step back.

You can see the questions and cut them off before they get started. "I have another three hours before I'm off. We can talk at home, and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

John nods first. He recognizes your tone. You won't let them derail you for answers now, and they would be wasting their breath to try. "You heard the lady, lads. Let's get home."

They start to walk away when you tease, "Captain? Was there a reason you were arguing with Susan about the flowers?"

He halts his steps and turns to you, flush creeping up his neck. He brings his hand up to rub it as he says, "Er, I, we, wanted to get ya something nice, but they don't have the same ones as online."

You melt a little, watching the way your men shift nervously behind their captain. You smile softly and reach over, plucking a bouquet of rainbow poms from the rack. "These are what I usually get for myself when you're away."

John takes them gently from your hand and passes them to Gaz to put in the trolley. "We'll see you at home, love," he murmurs, leaning over briefly to kiss your cheek. Simon kisses the top of your head, fabric brushing your hair. Johnny pulls you in for another bruising hug and kisses your other cheek. Gaz puts his hands on your waist, drinking in the sight of you, before taking your hands in his and kissing your palms.

You watch them leave, wondering how you'll make it through the rest of your shift.

Three hours and fifteen minutes later, you cross the threshold of your shared home to the most delicious scents wafting from the kitchen. After slipping your shoes off next to the piles of boots at the door, you follow your nose back to the kitchen and the spread laid out on the large wood-topped island. There's a roast and mushy peas and mashed potatoes and stewed carrots and battered cod and crisps and spinach all surrounding the flowers you'd suggested, nestled in the vase you love most, the Caithness one Johnny'd bought you on your first trip with them to Scotland.

At the table, your men sit, plates made for everyone, waiting on you. They've changed since you saw them. Gone are any traces of fatigues and tactical gear. Instead they're all in casual civvies, truly home for the first time in nearly three weeks. Simon stands as you come in and pulls out your chair, smile on his scarred lips. "Come sit, doll," he tells you, not quite an order.

You look quickly around. "Let me change," you say, tugging at your uniform top. "I won't be but a minute." You back out of the room before they can stop you. You hurry to your bedroom, pulling your top off as you go. Once behind the door, you slip from your trousers into comfortable leggings and a large jumper, one of Kyle's you think.

By the time you make it back to the kitchen, your men are more than a little antsy. Simon's smile is a little strained, Johnny is fidgeting, Kyle keeps glancing between you and John, and John is staring at you. Your chair is still out. He waves a hand at it, and gently says, "Come sit, love." It's couched as request, but you know a command from your lover when you hear it.

You take your seat at the table. "Listen-" you start, but John cuts you off.

"Are we not providing for ya, love?" You see the hurt in his eyes, how much it bothers him to think he, they, aren't doing enough for you.

"Oh, John, dear, no!" you reply, putting your hand over his on the table. "It's not that at all."

"Then what?" Simon asks.

You look at them all, the expectant faces waiting to hear how they failed you. "I get restless sometimes. I love you, and I love our life. I'm happy to take care of the house and make sure you're all fed after a long day. But I wasn't built for sitting around doing nothing. I like people; being home on my own all day can get lonely. Especially when you're deployed. I also like having my own pocket money."

John opens his mouth, and you know what he's about to say, so you continue. "I know you'd give me any money I need or want, but I like having my money. Money I earned myself." You look around at them, willing them to understand. "It's only part time. Helps me keep a little busy and have a little extra to spoil you and me with."

Johnny is frowning, but you see Kyle, head cocked, looking at you as a puzzle. "I think I understand," he says softly. "You were making you way just fine before us, and you gave up everything for us."

At his words, the crease between John's brow deepens, and you're sure he's remembering the job you had, that you'd somewhat enjoyed, when you'd first met them. You'd been working at RAF Lakenheath, living in a cozy flat in Cambridge, near The Backs, when the 141 had been coming through the base after an op. An injury had put Kyle in the med center for a week, and while he could have been transported to Hereford once stable, Laswell had worked it out for the whole team to have some R&R near the base.

You'd quite literally run into John one day, rushing to your office, after which he suggested lunch as an apology. You quickly became close with all four, smitten with them from the start. In turn, they fell hard for you. They wooed you over the course of several weeks, stopping through Lakenheath on deployments to spend some time with you. Six months in and you were completely gone on all four of them, so when they'd asked you to move to Hereford, you did without ever looking back. But it meant giving up the life you'd led.

Somewhere along the way, your happiness overshadowed all you'd left behind. After a few weeks, being home alone while your men worked started to feel isolating. You liked being a little busy, and there weren't enough projects around the house to keep you busy enough. You'd always been independent, but you didn't want to be stuck in a job with long hours anymore. You wanted to be home for your men. So you'd found the job at ASDA.

Kyle reaches over to where you hand is still on John's. "I'm sorry we didn't ask how you were coping us being gone all day," he says. He looks you in the eye as he continues. "I understand wanting to do something, wanting to be a little busy, and if this makes you happy, then I'm all for it, doll." He gives you a small smile and squeezes your and John's hand.

"Gaz is right," Simon rumbles. "We were so happy to have you here we didn't think about what you did all alone all day." He puts a heavy hand on your thigh, the warmth of him seeping through your thin leggings. "'m glad you have something to keep you from getting lonely."

"Sorry, hen," Johnny murmurs, just above a whisper. "We didnae think a' ye enough." You smile widely at him.

"Johnny, you think of me all the time. This isn't about neglect at all!" You try to catch his eye, but he's looking hard at the table in front of him. "You did nothing wrong, love," you tell him gently.

He looks at you, blue eyes bright. "Ye sure?" You've never seen him this nervous before, and you break a little.

"I'm sure love."

He smiles then, a little smile, but it brightens his face and shifts the mood in the room. You look at John who's been surprisingly quiet this whole time.

He's smiling, but it's a little sad. "I know ya said we didn't do anything wrong, but we feel like we did. We didn't notice you were bored, didn't ask if you were lonely." He flips his hand over under yours and threads your fingers with his. "Yer giving us a gift by not blaming us, and we'd be stupid not to take it, even though it feels like yer giving us an out. Thank you." He brings your hand to his lips and kisses it softly.

"Thank you. I was worried you'd be mad," you admit.

"Never could make us mad with something like this, hen," Johnny reassures you. "I'm sorry we had to spoil your day is all."

You turn back to look at the food on the island. "You didn't spoil my day. You made it. You're home early, and you made such a lovely spread. I think we should tuck in, yeah?"

Simon chuckles. "Point made, doll," he says, scooping a heaping helping of mash onto his fork. The rest take it as a sign to start eating too.

The room is silent save for the sounds of food savored until John pipes up, "Why'd ya come to florals, love? We might have missed ya altogether if not for that."

You giggle. "The sunshine call, John."

"Yeah?" He clearly doesn't understand.

"It's the shop call for a difficult customer. When I'm on shift, it's my job to handle those." You look at each of your lovers in turn. "Seems I've got a knack for dealing with muppets," you tell them with a smirk.

[gatheringbones]

Hey Bones. In the vein of the class traitor question, what do you do when you've been a repeatedly nasty, abusive person? The best way I can explain it is "abusive victimhood".

I am currently on a process of learning about myself, about my ancestors, about trauma and abuse, spirituality and mindfulness, and making amends . Because of that I'm now in a place where I act the best and kindest I can, but on the inside I have a cacophony of completely opposite thoughts I can't quieten. I feel like a fraud. Not helped by being autistic + the masking I do anyway as a woc in white environments .

My concern is that even when I'm genuinely trying , my inner voice is still just so nasty and abusive towards others. Sometimes to the point of contradicting how i actually feel (eg care curiosity, compassion, neutrality) I genuinely don't understand that one.

What do you do when.you know you've made the wrong choices- but you also fear that there's something inherent in you that you can't beat , to authentically make the right choices ?

this is why I like parts work.

I love that inner asshole victim demon. it’s always on my side and it knows once it draws blood very few people will have the marrow to keep fighting. it talks like the women I love and respect most because it is them: for some it’s all I have left of them. it is a beloved relic of a much more terrible time. adulthood continues to mean cultivating more inner demons to surround it and weigh in on the decisions it makes. it hates that. it finds it very difficult to continue controlling the narrative and intruding into my interactions with others. it still chimes in, it still muscles others aside and dashes in to protect me on occasion, but only sometimes, not all the time. since I’m not under any pressure to pretend I’m a consistent or singular unit of Person, I know that my other inner selves will drift in and out and intercede as needed the more I work on giving them power and voice.

much love to your asshole victim. It will never abandon you and it will always come running when you are in very great need. this is a very rare and treasured quality for a person to have. someone like that needs a great many friends.

[tkdb-hell]

39 - Jin

Thank youuu ♡

#39 - Kissing tears from the other’s face.

Kisses Prompt List • Kisses Masterlist

(I do my best to write the reader as gender neutral unless otherwise specified - if you send me an ask and prefer masc or fem, please let me know)

♡ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ♡

“Are you seriously crying right now?” Jin’s voice cut through the air, sharp and cold like the frost that clung to Frostheim’s corridors. His icy blue eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms, his jacket draped lazily over his shoulders in his usual careless style.

You wiped at your eyes quickly, annoyed that you couldn’t stop the tears from falling. You hadn’t meant to cry—not in front of him. Of all people. Jin Kamurai was the last person you wanted to see you like this.

“I’m not doing it on purpose,” you muttered, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to sound composed. “Just… leave me alone, Jin.”

He didn’t leave. Instead, he moved closer, his frustration palpable. “I don’t have time for this,” he said, voice tight with irritation. “If you think this will somehow guilt me into doing something for you—”

“I’m not trying to guilt you!” you snapped, turning away from him as more tears threatened to fall. “I’m just upset, okay? Sorry if that’s inconvenient for you.”

Something in your voice must have struck a nerve, because Jin’s expression faltered for a split second. His brows drew together, no longer in frustration, but in confusion, as if trying to make sense of the sudden shift in the atmosphere. He wasn’t used to people showing vulnerability around him—especially not you.

“…You’re serious,” he said quietly, the sharp edge in his tone dulling. He studied you for a moment, watching the way you refused to meet his gaze, how your hands trembled slightly as you wiped at your face again, only to smear away fresh tears.

“Of course I’m serious,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I’m not crying to annoy you. I just… I couldn’t hold it in anymore.”

Jin didn’t respond right away. The tension in the air shifted, no longer cold and cutting but something gentler, something unfamiliar. Slowly, he reached out, hesitant in a way that was so unlike him. His fingers brushed against your cheek, cool to the touch, as if testing whether the tears were real.

When you didn’t pull away, he leaned in. His lips pressed softly against the corner of your eye, catching a stray tear before it could fall. Another kiss followed, this time on your other cheek, the warmth of his breath stark against the cold air.

“Jin…?” you murmured, confused by his sudden tenderness.

“Stop crying,” he said quietly, his voice lacking its usual sharpness. “I don’t like seeing you like this.”

“I can’t just stop,” you said, though the warmth of his lips against your skin was beginning to calm you, melting the tension that had kept you wound so tightly. “I didn’t mean to cry in front of you. I didn’t want you to—”

“Shut up,” he interrupted, but there was no malice in his words. He kissed another tear away, then moved to the bridge of your nose, his lips lingering for a moment before pulling back slightly. “You don’t have to explain. I get it now.”

For a moment, there was only silence between you, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Jin’s hands remained on your face, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks as he held your gaze.

“You should’ve told me sooner if something was wrong,” he said softly, his usual arrogance replaced by a quiet sincerity. “I’m not good at… this kind of thing. But I’ll try. So, stop crying already. Please.”

His plea was awkward, clumsy in a way that made your heart ache more than any sharp words ever could. Jin Kamurai wasn’t one to show softness, but in this moment, he was giving you all he could.

A small, shaky laugh escaped you as you wiped at your face once more, this time with steadier hands. “You’re really bad at this, you know.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not making it easy,” he muttered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite himself. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before someone sees us.”

He slipped his hand into yours, his fingers cool but grounding, and gave it a gentle squeeze. Without another word, he led you away, his grip firm, steady—an unspoken promise that you wouldn’t have to face whatever had upset you alone. And though Jin didn’t say it outright, you knew, in his own way, he cared.

[beneathsilverstars]

people are wondering about loop in the au where the party stops siffrin from using the dagger in dormont and the ensuing conversation breaks the loops so let's see...

Siffrin would still want to go see Loop first thing afterwards, but everyone else would be verrry worried about him going off alone. He tries to inconspicuously wander off but Isabeau is immediately like, "Heyy buddy where are you off to? Mind if I come with?" Siffrin feels guilty for selfishly making everyone feel obligated to not leave him alone, and getting them all worried about an issue that isn't even what it looked like. So he's kinda hoping they won't be so worried about him now that they've beat the king and decided to stay together... but he's also afraid that if they stop worrying, they'll decide, okay, no need to stay together after all.

But luckily Siffrin doesn't have to sort all of that out right now, because they know Loop has complicated feelings about the party and doesn't want to see them, so they know they have to go by themself if they want a chance of talking to them.

They try to play it casual, "I'm just going to the favor tree, you don't have to come with me." But two can play at surface-level manners so Isabeau says "I want to, though, it's no trouble!" Siffrin doesn't want to refuse him point-blank, but they really want to talk to Loop... so they go back and forth another time or two before Isabeau's like "Look. You understand why I'm worried about you suddenly going off for no apparent reason, right? On your own, when you've been glued to my side for the last half hour? I... I don't want to stop you,'' (Does that mean that he wouldn't? Or that he would, but he'd be sorry about it?) "but I would feel a lot better about it if you brought someone with you? Doesn't have to be me. Or at least explained why you're going...? Sorry, I know it must be so annoying to have to explain your every move, but... it's been less than a day, since. y'know. And I'd be... I just want you to stay safe."

And oh, Siffrin hates that he's made Isabeau so upset, that he messed up so bad yesterday and that he's making it worse right now, that he's made him so concerned over nothing. So he hesitantly, carefully explains, "There's someone I want to talk to. at the favor tree. I... talked to them there yesterday? And. they might be there again today, but. they definitely won't talk to me if any of you are with me." And, okay, it's reassuring that Siffrin has a reason, and it doesn't even seem he's lying, but. Isabeau can't help but be worried anyway. Especially because this is apparently someone Siffrin talked to at right about the same time that he started acting weird, yesterday? What if this person made Siffrin feel worse, what if they did something that pushed Siffrin over the edge??

But he knows that's edging past reasonable concern into paranoia, so he just asks, "Would it be alright if I walked you to the edge of town at least? Since you're still kinda woozy, and, that way I'll be in earshot if you need me...?" And Siffrin agrees, very relieved to have found a compromise and actually glad for the continued company. And it occurs to them that Isabeau might be less worried about them if they didn't have their dagger on them, and, the day has already been saved... So he gives Isabeau his dagger, along with a promise that he's not gonna do that, and Isabeau does seem happier!

So off they go through Dormont. Isabeau stops farther back on the path just a bit before the bend, where he won't be able to see Siffrin or overhear casual conversation, but could definitely hear a shout and coming running. And Siffrin goes to the tree, and sees the coin, and... twohats ensues! The dialogue is somewhat different, though, because they never did entirely figure it out in the end, did they? They had started learning about wish craft, but Loop hadn't quite connected it yet and of course Siffrin refused to look at their own wish. And then, what a dramatic final loop!

So. More along the lines of, "That was it? Really? You just had to kill yourself in front of them to get everything you ever wanted? To break the loops? To never be alone again? To guilt them into staying forever, because they think you're going to slit your own blinding throat if they let you out of their sight? Sure! Whatever it takes! Never let anyone tell you suicide threats don't work~" and "Do you know how many times I killed myself? How many more times I died?? Did I just not do it right? Wrong time, wrong place? Did I not suffer enough? Was I not selfish enough? What did I do wrong!! Why do you get to escape and not me! I deserve this happy ending, not you!! Why do you get to stay with them and not me!!!"

But, hm. Loop was kinda really raising their voice there at the end, weren't they?

Loop's voice still sounds a bit odd — part inhuman form, part new habit, part intense emotion — but, they're not putting active effort into keeping up the mask right now. Not when they're this upset. Not when Siffrin already knows. And Isabeau hasn't seen Loop yet; he just heard their voice. And a couple of the things that voice said.

So Isabeau makes it around that corner while Loop is speaking more quietly. And then Loop says "STARS, killing you will make me SO HAPPY," and Siffrin reaches for their dagger and freezes as he realizes and remembers it's gone, and Isabeau speeds up, and Loop looks up and see him and freezes too.

And Isabeau says, "Sif?? I thought you promised you weren't going to kill yourself over here???"

Long story short, Loop panics and runs, Siffrin follows while shouting things trying to convince them to come back, so of course Isabeau follows too, and Siffrin almost collapses because they're still craft exhausted. Loop gives up and lets them catch up, and I do mean gives up, they just wanna lay down and die, if you can't go out with a bang there's nothing wrong with a whimper. But Siffrin and Isabeau refuse to leave them there, so they wait around and talk at them, and then run out of things to say and wait some more. Eventually Mirabelle finds them and she's very upset and glad they're okay, and at that point Loop gives up on giving up and quietly follows them back to Dormont, so Siffrin won't get himself more sick and all his friends more worried, staying out in the forest all night.

And so! The party knows who Loop is from the very start, but not anything about the time loops! Just that something very strange must have happened, to end up with two Siffrins and one of them a star.

[ashblooddragons]

My Tears Ricochet

This was requested by @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored I know it isn't exactly what you asked for but I hope you like it none the less

Summary: You and Daemon are in a failing marriage, whispers follow you everywhere you go. Whispers that speak of his infidelity. And when you confront him of these rumors will it end everything or will it bring you back together.

Word Count: 2461

Warnings: inner turmoil, rumors of Daemon cheating (though he never did), argument, marital problems, angst, tell me if I missed anything

My nails dig into my palms as whispers and glances are thrown my way. 

It started when my husband and I, the Prince Daemon, got into our first quarrel that led us down this road. 

It was over something so small, well at least in his eyes. He had spilled wine on my dress with no idea how expensive it was. 

The silks had been made by the finest fabric maker in Myr, and that alone made the dress absurdly expensive, and then on top of that, it was a gorgeous light purple with diamonds, sapphires, and pearls sewn into the bodice and the embroidery was pure gold thread. 

I could have forgiven him, it was a mistake and everyone makes those. But when my dear, dear husband laughed at the irreversible stain, I saw red. And on top of all this, the dress had been a gift from my Father for my nameday. So to hear my husband laugh at such a mistake, and then roll his eyes when I explained my frustration, I was less than pleased. 

But I should have known that was only the beginning. That the dress was only the beginning of the end. 

I should have known that instead of trying to work on our marriage, he would instead decide to warm the bed of his niece. Nor should I be surprised she would let him, for if she can birth two bastards and claim them to be my brothers, then why wouldn't she let another man other than her Strong join her? 

I can handle the glances, the whispers, but when I see people start laughing under their breath is when I've had enough. I pick up the skirt of my dress and rush up the stairs towards my shared chambers with Daemon. Not fast enough for the court to have their laughs and know they hurt me, but also not slow enough not to make a point. 

When I enter our chambers I find it the way it's been for at least a moon. The bed is only slightly used on the left side, and the blue velvet settee with a thin quilt and two plush pillows. I know that even though he sleeps here at night he still has plenty of time to visit a whore or his darling niece. 

“My Lady.” I hear my son's Nursemaid say as she gives a clumsy bow as she holds my little boy. 

“Hello Dahlia.” I say to the mousy girl. Her hair is a dull red almost seeming brown in certain lights. Her face is pudgy with freckles spotting all over her face and arms. But what makes her stand out is her eyes, the most beautiful sage green. You could almost smell the scent of bark and foliage when you look at them. 

“The little Prince has just finished his feed if you wish to hold him?” She asks when Daelor starts to whimper and squirm in her arms. 

Always a Mama's boy. I think, taking my son into my arms. 

He is such a sweet little thing, only six moons old and yet already knows who his favorite is. Though I have heard that Targaryen boys tend to prefer their Mothers. 

I take in his sweet cherubic cheeks that have a slight rosy tint to them. His soft silver curls that are untameable though I would never want to. But most of all his eyes, a soft periwinkle that matches my own. Everything about his coloring from skin, hair, and eyes shows that he is mine. But his features are of his Father's. From the strong straight nose, to his brow that always seems like he's ready to scold you. It is clear he is mine and my husband's son. Not even Rhaenyra can try and deny that. And she has only to try and protect her sons. 

I hear the faint creak of the door open followed by the soft steps of Dahlia leaving me so I may spend time with my little boy. 

“Nine moons you were in me, and yet you are practically a clone of your Father.” I jest as he moves to touch my hair.

I figured out quickly why most mothers have their hair pulled up tight and out of their babes reach, for though they are small they have grips that rival the greatest and strongest knights.

He starts babbling, looking around the room and pointing at things. It almost seems like he's telling me about his day.

“Oh, well that all sounds wonderful.” I say to which he nods, resting his head against my chest. 

“What sounds wonderful?” I hear from behind me. There is no denying who the voice belongs to. The deepness missed with amusement only matches one man. 

My husband. 

“Our son was just telling me about his day, that is all.” I respond, turning around watching as he undoes his jerkin sliding it off so only the rich red undershirt is left. 

He gives me a strange look before looking at our son and a joyful smile plasters itself on his lips. 

“I do not think that is true, my wife, the boy can't even say Mama or Papa.” He jests but his words sting. 

He never called me ‘Wife' until two moons ago when everything started falling apart. There wasn't a night where we didn't have a screaming match only for it to end in cold silence as the other slept across the room. 

I wish I could say that's when the whispers of him visiting brothels or his niece started, it would make more sense. But sadly it isn't, two moons, it was two moons after our son was born when they started. And that's when the whispers started who knows when he truly started warming others beds. I always knew my husband had a high appetite, I myself was his meal of choice, but I never thought he would be so cruel as to find others so soon after our son's birth. That he couldn't wait a couple moons for me to heal. 

Though I suppose I should've known. Everyone warned me, even ladies I had never spoken to had said he would only pump a babe into me and then find another. I didn't believe them, and when his desire for me only grew as my belly swelled I knew they were wrong. But that joy soon came crashing down like a freezing bucket of ice water.

I'm brought back to the present when I feel a tug on my arm. I turn to see my Husband reaching for our son taking him from my arms. I know he is only being a father but I can't help the rage that fills my belly. He's embarrassed me after Daelor's birth, and yet he has the audacity to take him from me? I was the one who screamed and bled for a day and a half, I was the one who was ripped apart to bring the son he so desired only for him to rip my heart from my chest and stomp on it. 

All the pretty words, all the words of adoration, all the ‘I love you's’. I should have known, why didn't I know? 

“Where were you? I went to the training yard but you weren't there, was that not where you told me you would be at this hour?” I ask with such venom I see him almost flinch. 

“I was, though I had to cut my training short, I was needed in the city.” He responds with a nonchalant shrug before setting our son down on the floor by his toys. 

Now he won't even try to deny his visits to the brothel? Is this truly what has become of our marriage? I think as a silent tear rolls down my cheek. Though he would never know of it for his attention is on our son and not me, never me. 

“Of course.” I whisper before moving towards our, no, my bed and picking up my book from the side table. 

I can feel him staring at me, feel the way he assesses me. But I don't react, I refuse to. But his words are what makes me finally look at him in shock. 

“I don't know when things changed, or why, but I want to work on us. Why won't you let me?” 

I look down at my heralds for a moment, I need to decide if now is the time to confront him on his affairs. When I look up at him again, seeing the confusion and hurt across his face I know I must. 

“You act as if you didn't do this, as if you didn't run off to your niece or some whore. How long did it take you? A week mayhaps the very day our son was born.” I demand as tears threaten to fall but I refuse to let him know how much he's hurt me, how many tears I have shed because of him. 

He doesn't say anything, only picks up our son and opens the door whispering to the guard and then waits. I know what he's doing, he's calling for Dahlia, Daelor doesn't need to hear our screaming matches. 

It feels like only seconds but at the same time millennia until Dahlia has Daelor and walks away towards the gardens. 

Tis the farthest place from our chambers, he shouldn't hear us from there. 

I watch as Daemon shuts the door with a soft click. He doesn't turn to look at me, only looking at his hands with utter defeat. 

This is it, the moment our marriage will finally break completely. No more sweet words or soft touches, no more vows of devotion or I love you. The bridge will finally crash and burn into nothing but soot. I think as he finally turns to look at me. 

“And who had put such rumors in your head? Why would I go to a brothel? Why would I visit my niece? You know how I hate what she has done to the Targaryen name and yet you think I will follow her into bed? Do you truly think I have no restraint?” He asks, pain filling each word, as more tears begin to rim his eyes. 

I stand from my spot on the bed moving towards him. “Do not play me for a fool, Daemon! Everyone knows, they whisper it with each step I take. I can't leave these chambers without lords and ladies laughing and whispering behind my back. So do not play the victim, you have even admitted to going to a brothel! And your Niece has made sly comments here and there of how--how you will not desire me anymore.” I scream tears rolling down my cheeks. There is no hiding my pain anymore. I have bottled this up for too long, six moons is too long to hold this burden. 

He only stares at me before a curse leaves his lips. “I don't know what Rhaenyra has said to you, or the court but it is a lie. And when did I ever admit to going to a brothel?” He demands stepping closer. One more step from either of us and our chests would meet. 

“You said you went into the city, why not tell me? The only clear answer is you are hiding something.” I all but sob out, I know I must look like a hysterical mess right now but I can't find any reason to care. 

He freezes seeing all my hurt, every stab to the heart now open for him to pick apart and destroy me more. 

He sighs and looks down at his jerkin and I already know what is going to happen. He will slip it back on and leave to clear his head only to come back smelling of soot and wine. 

“I didn't mean to hurt you, I was trying to do something nice.” He says picking up his jerkin but instead of putting it on he reaches into one of the pockets pulling out a small box and something with a chain. 

“I thought– I thought maybe I could show I cared if my words didn't. You hardly let me touch you now, I can't speak without you becoming quiet and withdrawn. So I thought A gift might help mend things. But I see now it only fueled your mistrust.” He says as he clutches the gifts so tightly his knuckles turn white. 

I think about his words over in my mind, trying to find when it all changed for us. We used to be so perfect, we used to be inseparable. There were many at court who were jealous of the devotion my husband showed me. So when did we fall apart? 

I step forward taking his hand in mine before gently opening his hand. Inside is a gorgeous necklace, diamonds encrust each and every part but what holds my attention are the two dragons. One made of ruby and the other made of sapphire. 

Our mounts, Caraxes and Nightfyre. I think with a smile as I touch the intricately carved stones. 

“It's lovely Daemon, I love it.” I say looking up at him. I can see a faint smile Grace his lips before he opens the little box. 

Inside are matching earrings, a diamond on top and then our mounts made of stone warped around each other. Just like the necklace. 

“They are both lovely gifts.” I say tears slowly rolling down my face instead of the fast sobs. 

“I want to work on us, I want us to be together again. Not just in a room, but in our hearts. And if that means leaving the Red Keep, leaving my brother and family behind. I will, because I would rather have you and our little family than any of this.” He says, wiping my tears. 

I see now that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, that maybe, just maybe we can be us again. That we can be in love once more. 

So all I can do is nod, as I hug him for what feels like the first time in ages. And he hugs me back. 

I know it's going to be a long road ahead, but now I feel like I'm not alone anymore.

“You still have a lot of explaining to do. And so do I, I suppose.” I say into his chest. 

I feel his chest rumble with laughter as he strokes my hair. “Then it's a good thing we have all the time in the world.” He responds and for some reason, at this moment, I've never felt more loved.

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @athzhowakar @baybaybear1 @themoonlitquill @thelastemzy

[lambilegs]

was reading your modern!lee hcs and omg lee x reader meeting on tinder or some dating app is such a fun idea

MODERN!LEE MEETING YOU ON A DATING APP

contains: sfw!!, fluff, just crush stuff nothing major middle picture is from: the guy she was interested in wasn't a guy at all by sumiko arai divider by: @enchanthings note to anon: so so so sorry for how long it took to answer this!! thank you so much for the request, this was so fun and so funny to write hehe

you can’t even lie — you one thousand percent swiped right just for her looks LMAOOOO like it’s not your fault even, her profile just has so little to go off of. it’s essentially just a lot of candid pictures her friends have selected for her, with some plain bio that just says what her job is and that she’s looking for something serious (yes, she cringed when adding that second part, and yes, her friends forced her to)

but still she gets bare swipes on her profile, since, well, she’s hot and people find her even hotter when they realize through her bio that she’s a special agent

and, lee? well, she kinda doesn’t swipe much at all, considering she’s very analytical and scrutinizing with everyone’s profile, overthinking about what their bios and fun facts indicate about them, and if they’re compatible with her

eventually, her friends have to snatch the phone and much to her horror, swipe on a bunch of people without pause, their cackles practically evil as she wordlessly watches

you end up being one of the victims of this swiping rampage, which leaves you eagerly texting her a greeting, biting your thumb when you see she reads your message

except... one hour passes. and then another. and then another. and she simply doesn’t reply, leaving you on read for two days before replying back

you’re expecting an apology, something to explain her lack of reply, but all you get is a “hi,” causing you to scoff in annoyance

you try your best to fish it out of her, replying, “hi!! I wondered where you went haha”

when she immediately replies, “what do you mean?” you text, “oh well it said you read my message two days ago”

after the speech bubble pops up then disappears a few times, you laugh out loud at her reply: “oh. I didn’t know you could see that.”

listen, I love her — but like, c’mon, we all know you’re CARRYINGGGG the first conversation. it’s filled to the brim with dry, short, one-worded responses from her, and at one point, you’re pushed to ask, “sooo why did you swipe on me?” since a part of you is wondering if she’s even interested

you nearly delete the conversation when she replies, “I didn’t. my friends did.”

the only redeeming factor is the text she sends a few minutes afterwards, saying, “but, you’re nice, though. they only swiped for me because they said I was overthinking it.”

and that naturally leads you two into a conversation about how much she’s hated dating apps so far LMFAO so you both wind up complaining together, which proves to be a great ice breaker

she has some texting habits that still get you on edge, though, like randomly dropping off the face of the earth for hours to days, and giving you blunt and short responses. even her use of periods sometimes has you biting your lip in nervousness LMAO

but, you can tell she’s trying harder, asking you questions like what you liked about your hometown, or what do you like about your favourite movie genre. you like that about her — her questions aren’t the generic “wyd?” she asks questions that actually allow you to reveal things about yourself, intimate things that really make you feel like you’re sharing these hidden parts of yourself

you eventually adjust to her texting style, slowly figuring out she’s not completely aware of how dry it comes off, and just doesn’t bother with any texting etiquette most people rely on in order to soften their words, like emojis or exclamation points

but, three weeks into texting, when she leaves for an entire two days after you and her had a conversation about your past experiences with romance, you finally crack and ask her, “why do you keep randomly leaving for so long?”

as you had partially expected, she replies with, “I just leave whenever I feel socially drained or get busy. I get caught up with work and won’t reply to messages during that time.”

when you reply neutrally, not exactly sure what’s the fair thing to say, she asks, “does it bother you?” it makes you smile a bit, to know she’s so in tune with your texting style she knows when you’re feeling off. that’s another thing you’ve grown to like about her — she’s perceptive as hell, remembering every little thing you’ve exposed about yourself and able to wind the map of yourself maybe even better than yourself. like, when you mention having high expectations for romance, she muses, “must be the early 2000s romance films,” as though she’s already confident in her ability to read you. and maybe she should be

when you admit you feel a bit hurt when she leaves abruptly without warning, especially if it’s right after you opened up to her, she replies, “I’m sorry. I won’t do it anymore.”

and she doesn’t. it shocks you, really. just how utterly and completely decent she is, how sure she is of ensuring her promise to you doesn’t go broken. she’ll now send you texts like, “work is getting busy, I’ll be back in a few days.” or if she needs to abruptly leave after a certain tender conversation, she’ll always let you know when she’ll be back to continue it. the entire thing makes your heart swell

when you first send her a voice message, it’s to explain a long ass story about a friendship breakup you had. a part of you is scared to, fearing that she’ll find your voice unattractive and maybe like you less. but, you know it’s a necessary step, and she’s bound to hear your voice anyways once you guys meet

so, shakily, heart throbbing, you send her an audio with a trembling voice and lots of — way too many — giggles

when she says nothing about your voice, only remarking on your story, you groan in frustration, nearly screaming in your pillow. you really can’t play any coy, indirect games with her, can you? and so, you send her another message, hoping it doesn’t come off as too serious when you say, “sooo kicking your feet over my voice?”

“kicking your feet?”

shit. of course she doesn’t know the reference

“like,” you text with a grumble, “do you like my voice?”

a bubble pops. then, it vanishes. then, it pops again. and, then: “I do. it’s nice.”

you know it’s barely anything, but still, you beam at your phone like an idiot. and, then, you release a nearly earth-shattering scream when you see an audio message back from her

you pray you like her voice, sucking in a deep breath when you hit play

and immediately, your eyes shut. god. what a goddamn pretty voice she has. it’s light, so airy you feel like it could be carried in the wind, drifting and drifting. and it has this pleasant little edge to it, rough but velvety in its occasional husk. god, you could get drunk off it

one day, when out with friends, you get drunk, high, or maybe just a bolt of courage form their insistence that this lee girl definitely has a thing for you. but, all you know is something triggers a bolt of courage to zap through you, and before you know it, you’re texting her, sloppily texting in the midst of the bumping crowd, “hiiioii I miss you”

she reads it, then to your intense nervousness, doesn’t reply till twenty minutes later, simply saying, “I miss you too”

you pout, replying, “do you really? you took so long to reply”

she immediately responds then, writing out, “I just didn’t know what to say”

“because you didn’t miss me?”

“no. I do miss you. I just am not used to all of this”

your eyebrows furrow. you type out, “all of what?”

“having someone I want to talk to everyday.”

the confession has you holding your breath, the rest of the room becoming drained out white noise as your gaze lingers upon those words, a swarm of butterflies whirling in your stomach. you bite your lip, texting back, “I feel the same way”

she excuses herself, then, saying she needs to get back to work. but, that doesn’t dissuade you from believing the earnestness of her words. you know she wouldn’t lie just to tell you what you want to hear. no, she truly meant it. and that has you buzzing with a thrill all night

the next morning, after sleeping in an egregious amount after the late night out, the memories of what occurred slowly settle back into your consciousness and you cringe, feeling embarrassed for how exposing you were in your need for her. when you pick up your phone and see she’s messaged you two hours ago, you wince slightly before opening it. but, what meets your eyes has you jolting up in bed with a sharp gasp, mouth dropping

“when can we meet?”

[laswells-ashtray]

Hello comrade (also please tell Orca hi from me), I know you did a wonderful piece on Adler and baby Phil just recently, but I am unapologetically greedy about your writing, so if you do not mind, could you maybe share your thoughts on how they would spend, like, a fun weekend day in the city? Maybe a zoo trip or one of those science museums that have cool interactive exhibitions where you can watch like a tornado form in a glass box by a press of a button and then it explains some physics laws (do I make sense? I hope you get which ones I mean, I am obsessed with them). Or something like that.

In any case, I hope you have a great day/night and remember that you are our very loved comrade and always a delight when you post literally anything ❤️🦍

I'm gonna be honest with you, I'm choosing the zoo because it's easier to describe than sciencey things as someone who enjoys those museums but also failed every science I ever took and doesn't know how to articulate anything involving such. Also, obligatory gorilla conga line: 🦍🦍🦍🦍🦍🦍🦍🦍🦍🦍🦍🦍🦍🦍🦍🦍

It's safe to say, it isn't Russell's traditional way to spend a Saturday. But, he lets the tiny hand in his lead him over to the bear enclosure with a smile because Phil's little legs are moving so quickly that he expects them to spark soon.

It's busy, as to be expected on a sunny Saturday but he manages to secure them a place by the glass so that the four-year-old can see the bear. A couple of well-thrown elbows can get him anywhere he damn pleases.

It's almost comical how close Phil is willing to get to the glass just to look at the bear inside of its enclosure, offering it a wave with his free hand as the bear peers back at them, not a care in the world as it lounges about on the grass.

"Is he grizzly?"

He looks away from the bear, eyes drawn back to the little boy in front of him as Phil squeezes his hand. He shakes his head, glancing over at the sign detailing the animal's information.

"I don't think so, kid. Says she's an Andean bear."

"Huh."

It doesn't seem to deter Phil, his enthusiasm doesn't falter in the slightest as he admires the beautiful creature in front of them. The markings on the bear's face give it a distinct kind of regality over the other animals in the park.

A soft mutter reaches his ears as his son gazes wide-eyed at the bear. "She looks fluffy."

At that moment he knows that when they reach the gift shop he'll be looking for stuffed bears to see if he can hunt down an Andean bear plushie for Phil to keep at his house. His wallet be damned, his boy is getting a bear.

He peers over at the sign, listing every common fact about the bear from her age to her weight to her average lifespan in captivity. "Says she's only seven, her name is Beatrice."

Phil tugs on his hand again, this time with the force that demands Russell meet his eyes. He doesn't even try to pretend that the shit-eating grin on the four-year-old's face doesn't make him smile.

"Beartrice."

And with that, the famed Russell Adler is broken into a fit of laughter by a four-year-old in a Tom and Jerry t-shirt.

He ruffles Phillip's hair with his hand much to his displeasure, messing up the neat blonde style that his mother had insisted he leave the house with. Informing her that they were going to the zoo and not a gala only resulted in her rolling her eyes.

Others start to crowd around them, all desperate to get a look at the "spectacled" bear in all her glory as the animal starts to approach the glass. He briefly considers staying but being boxed in by around twenty or so people is less than ideal, so, he leans down and carefully picks Phil up, planting the boy on his hip.

He hears his son's quiet protest as he walks away from the bear enclosure and he's met with a pout when he spares him a glance, he'd feel bad if it weren't a tactical decision.

"Well, kiddo, how about I make you a deal? We can go look at Daddy's favourite animal and then get some food before we go and look at the rest of the animals. Maybe, if she's still awake we can come back and see Beatrice later."

Phillip doesn't seem convinced, crossing his arms and looking up at him with such a serious glare that it almost feels like looking in a mirror. It'd take less effort to convince Woods to drink lighter fluid.

"What animal?"

He pinches the boy's nose, grinning at his grumble as tiny hands try to pry his own away.

"Well, I was gonna take us to go see the lynxes. They're like a big version of Mrs Petrillo's cat."

The description seems to help convince Phil that the new animal would be worth leaving the bear for. "A kitty?"

"Kind of, yeah. A big kitty."

After maybe twenty seconds of deliberation, Phillip nods and looks at him expectantly.

"Let's go see the kitty."

So, maybe he could convince Woods to drink lighter fluid.

[the-fabled-void]

What’s your opinion on Lust Sans? How do you think the creator could have handled hypersexuality better? Because honestly I don’t think it was handled very well -as a hypersexual anon myself.

What’s your opinion on Lust Sans? How do you think the creator could have handled hypersexuality better? Because honestly I don’t think it was handled very well -as a hypersexual anon myself.

I can't really say much about hypersexuality as i have no experience with it, and it's been a while since I read the Underlust comic.

One thing I have to say, I don't think NSFWShamecave probably didn't intent to portray SPECIFICALLY hypersexuality? From my understanding at least it doesn't seem like it.

Despite the way monsters behave being similar to hypersexuality, I believe the creator was trying to portray something that they believed was fictional. (The lore reason being the fact that everyone's injected with an aphrodisiac.)

And that's where a lot of the issues come from.

I will have to say, it was a genuine attempt by someone to make something with serious lore out of an AU with origins that are hard to take seriously. I would blame it on age, but I'm just gonna go on a limb and say someone with the username NSFWShamecave was at least 18 back then.

Regardless, it's not a story that's easy to tell. Even with genuine intentions, their story- you can tell it wasn't made by someone who knows their stuff.

Additionally, it seems like a kind of AU where the creator thought 'designs first, lore after'.

Which isn't a bad thing on it's own! It's interesting to already have a point in the story that the characters are at and think "okay, how did they reach it". But the creator didn't execute it well.

There's also the 'love fixes everything' vibes I remember getting with Papyton with what happened to Mettaton.

The AU itself feels kinda puritan, with Frisk needing to show the monsters true love as if they've never had it before. It feels extremely reminiscent of the internet's culture at the time, especially the Undertale fandom. I remember being very active on Wattpad at the time, and I remember on there... It was treated jokingly, but we did call anything sexual 'sin' and shamed people for being into it (12 year olds like I was SHOULDN'T be into it, but still...)

Not to mention... Chara. Obviously the character who was the fandom's genocide scapegoat, who was seem as evil back then, is gonna be made weirdly lustful. Good thing they aged them up, I'm glad this creator didn't try to dive into child hypersexuality (while it does exist, someone with those views on sexuality would not have handled that very well, and they would have received more scrutiny), but giving them the soul trait of Lust? That was probably not the best way of explaining why everyone is horny.

In short:

The main issues are that the creator was portraying a real issue bad because they didn't know it was real, and that the creator wasn't all that experienced in writing stories (and designed most characters other than Mettaton and Frisk without a story for them in mind).

As for Lust Sans himself, I didn't really answer that question specifically very well, did I?

Firstly, he suffers from what most characters in the story do.

Additionally, as a Sans, I'm gonna have to think about him in the context of the multiverse.

His portrayal is what happens when an already not too well executed idea is brought towards a bunch of kids.

Of course there were older people in the fandom, but I say the majority of us were not the intended demographic for the AU.

And kids, especially in today's day and age, are notorious for wanting to seem mature and therefore portray stuff for adults, but at the end of the day, we weren't and we couldn't.

So Lust, in especially the early fandom's eyes, was reduced to "non-consensual flirt bordering on rapist".

-

I do have my own version of the AU, slightly altered. So far it's just lore from the AU itself instead of individual characters or story. I wasn't really planning on doing much with it, and I made it before voicing my own criticism, so it doesn't really address more than the Chara sexualization. Feel free to read it if you're curious though!

[glittergeldreams]

·. ✦ Twilight Dr

________________.。·. ⋆ ˚✦。⋆ ·。._______________

But it doesn't matter how hard they tried, something special always comes out. And in a land where people transform into wolves and deadly predators shine in the sun, a secret like magic can't be hidden for long.

Who said vampires and shapeshifters were the only magical creatures to exist in Forks?

For centuries, witches have disguised themselves as humans. Timeless, beautiful women who were able to change their appearance as they wished, living to the sides or integrated in society as if there was nothing special about them at all.

That's why when my mother died giving birth to me, my aunt took me in and moved away from forks and the rest of our family. After all, two witches living in the same house isn't something that can go unnoticed by the supernatural, especially if one of them is still an infant unable to control her powers.

So we said goodbye to Charlie and moved away. For years. Over and over again until we had to stay put for years so that I could attend school.

But my aunt didn't want to have children not only because of the dangers of a witch childbirth, and it was obvious that caring for me was becoming a burden for her.

That when we decided I'd spend my last two years of high school with Charlie and Bella, who moved back with Charlie too.

________________.。·. ⋆ ˚✦。⋆ ·。._______________

Bella and I always stayed in touch, despite me traveling all over the world with our aunt. So when she told me she'd go stay with her dad, I decided to move with uncle Charlie too.

After all, I loved Forks when I was a kid.

⋆ Me:

Ivory (Ivy) Swan, a witch living on her own for the first time, practicing magic, studying as a teenager and discovering all the new creatures that live hidden behind the human facade just like her.

________________.。·. ⋆ ˚✦。⋆ ·。._______________

I always wear crystals on me, and I play around with magic even to do the smallest things, just to become comfortable with it.

One thing I often do, is change my hair color. It's easy to explain it to humans as temporary hair dye and I can have fun without damaging my hair.

I have my own little notebook I always bring with me and where I write everything that comes to my mind.

I'm not the most outgoing person, but I don't mind being around people. I try to see the bright side of everything, and despite not always being able to show it, I care deeply about my friends, and I'd do anything of them.

⋆ How I spend my days:

I read and write in my journals whenever I can. I have a passion for romances and fantasy books. I just love to compare my magic with the one written in the books, and test my limits.

I love spending time in nature, and I tend to all the plants in Charlie's house.

Since studying comes easy to me, I'll get a job in the Forks' bookstore to help Charlie with rent, and go to LaPush on the weekends when the sun is out and the Cullens have to stay in.

I obviously practice magic as often as I can.

________________.。·. ⋆ ˚✦。⋆ ·。._______________

When I'll become friends with the Cullens, I'll start spending time at their house too.

While I know their secret, I'll enjoy playing with them with my magic for a while, just to see how long it takes them to figure it out.

Knowing Alice, not too long.

⋆ My family:

Daughter of Laura Swan and an unknown man she never gave a name or a face to, I've grown up traveling the world with my aunt Meghan.

Charlie, her brother and my uncle, never knew about magic even when they were little, since their father believed it would hurt their relationship if he knew.

When I come back, all my aunt tells me to do is to never let Charlie know about magic.

Bella and I have always seen each other in the summer growing up, then started sending each other letters and e-mails when we grew up, always keeping in touch.

I consider her my sister more than my cousin.

[midnight-bay-if]

hi! I’d just like to say I REALLY FUCKING LOVE THIS IF AAAAAAA!!! I love all the characters and their personalities and hints at their past/what they’re hiding, the way you write, the plot of the story and the MC themself too!

Rain is soo adorable and I can’t wait to learn more about them and Umbra!!! I want to give ‘em a hug and smother them in kisses and soft touches oughhhh but like taj! S! literally everyone!!!!! I love them all, honestly I don’t know how I’ll choose lol

anyways two little questions:

how would rain react to MC giving them a bouquet of flowers that were handpicked for them on a human holiday like maybe Valentine’s Day? platonic, crushing or dating is up to you (or all three if you’re up to it, no pressure though)

and if umbra isn’t quiet forthcoming with letting the MC make skin contact, would a nice in between compromise be letting the MC braid their hair? I just think the tender carefulness of a moment like that could convey the closeness and affection an MC might want to show without triggering umbra’s fear

btw I think there’s a bug when meeting umbra at the library? when Harriet leaves, they’re described as a woman, but then the pronouns change from he to she, and then any pronouns referring to umbra drop out entirely for the rest of the interaction. I don’t think that’s intentional?

anyways love the story and can’t wait for more! Thank you for writing it!!

Ahhh, this was so nice, haha. I'm really glad you like all the characters, and thank you so much for the bug report. I recently changed how picking pronouns works, so the code ended up a little jumbled. Coding is still a little new to me, so I'm grateful when people take the time to report the bugs they find. It's really helpful.

As for your questions:

Rain understands the practice well enough. Their home was filled with flowers; everywhere you looked, new blooms danced next to water, and it was not unusual to gift the brightest flowers as tokens of affection. They weaved flowers into bracelets, crowns, and necklaces; people used their gifts to keep them alive forever.

Flowers here do not live as long, but in Rain's mind, their fragility only makes them more beautiful. So when you present them with a perfectly woven wreath of flowers, words fail. They trace their fingers lightly over the bright petals, tears in their eyes. They haven't been here long enough to learn all the names, so eventually, they interrogate you ardently to give an explanation of each.

They do not know if they can keep them alive forever; their magic can only do so much, but they will try. "Thank you, MC; it's a little piece of home that I will cherish."

Umbra doesn't understand why you would spend time doing something so pretty to them, but it feels nice. At first, they cannot even explain what it is about it that makes them feel so warm, or even if it is warmth they feel in the first place; only that when you sit beside them, reaching out to carefully intertwine the sections of hair, they feel more themself than they ever have.

You make them feel seen.

"Will you do it again tomorrow?"

[who-needs-reality-anyways]

Bellamy Blake: A Seven Season Anthology

Season 5x04: Pandora's Box

Bellamy stands in front of the door separating him and Clarke. He realizes now that it’s the shortest distance there has been between them for the last 6 years, and he hasn’t had any time to process the fact that she’s alive. They landed, almost died, and was saved by Madi, who must have been trained by Clarke. So, once again, Clarke saved everyone within minutes of them being in danger. 

The electric buzz of the door sounds and it slides open. For a second he just stares at her, watching her turn to look back at him. She doesn’t move much other than the glance over her shoulder. He can’t imagine the pain she was put through by Diyoza before they got there. Unable to stay back any longer, he rushes over to her and helps her sit up.  

Neither of them say a word right away. They take each other in, raised brows, completely in awe that they are together again. Then, as if their bodies became magnetic, the space between them disappears. He feels her arms around his body, and he does the same, pulling her into him.  

“You’re really here,” she croaks, pressing her face into his shoulder. An action he is oh so familiar with. He is momentarily speechless, so he clenches his eyes shut as they embrace. He could have stayed in that position for much longer, but Clarke pulls away.  

“Madi?” 

“She’s safe,” he responds, finding his voice. The look of relief on her face makes him continue, wanting to give her more good news. “She’s in the woods with the others. Diyoza won’t look for them as long as we’re in control.” 

Then, in disbelief, she asks, “You’re all still alive? Murphy, Monty, Raven?” 

“Echo and Emori. Yeah. Clarke, you saved us all.” 

“And now you’re home,” she says quietly, her voice cracking. Bellamy nods, and their magnets engage again. They bury their faces in each other’s shoulders, hands around each other, taking in each other’s presence. It’s something Bellamy thought he’d never get to do again.  

But once again, she pulls away and turns her head. He follows her gaze through the open door behind them, their hands still resting on each other’s waist as she asks, “Wait, why’d she release me?” 

“We made a deal,” he explains when she looks back at him. “She agreed to open the bunker.”  

Clarke smiles with a quick exhale and a fresh expression of relief, and Bellamy’s heart could have exploded. Bellamy wishes they could stay there uninterrupted for longer, but he has to ensure the rest of his family’s safety. Bellamy stands up and puts the laser-comm to his mouth.  

“Raven, can you hear me? Come in.” He waits a couple seconds, watching Clarke hold her breath until they hear her voice come back over the radio.  

“Tell me everyone is okay,” she says. Clarke releases her breath and watches him begin his conversation. 

“Everyone’s okay,” he assures Raven. “We reached a deal with the people from that ship. And, by the way, the laser-comm is an open line, so they can hear every word we say.” 

“Nice to meet you. We’re not bad people, we--” Murphy chimes in playfully. 

“Raven, keep him away from the radio,” Bellamy cuts him off. There is no reason to ruffle feathers without even trying. 

“Copy that,” Raven says.  

“Anyways, they know the rules, but just to be safe, Colonel Diyoza, here they are again. If anyone tries to get around your security, you pull the plug. If anyone does anything that wasn’t agreed upon, you pull the plug. And if you don’t hear from me every hour, on the hour, you pull the plug.” 

“Is that all?” Raven asks.  

“No, that’s not all. Someone wants to say hello.” Bellamy, with a smile of his own, hands the radio over to Clarke. She pauses for just a slight second before speaking.  

“Raven, Murphy, it’s really good to hear your voices.” 

A tiny moment of silence, and then, “Clarke? I don’t believe it.” Raven breathes.  

“Jeez, and they call me the cockroach,” adds Murphy. Bellamy and Clarke chuckle at the joke.  

Bellamy stands a couple feet away, trying not to hover while she talks to their friends, but also staying close because he can’t bear to be far from her again. He watches the door to make sure no one comes for them. Clarke deserves this moment.  

“Hey, you guys just be careful up there, okay?” Clarke, always worrying about everyone else. “We’ll talk more once this is all over. I want to hear everything.” 

“Ok, but first,” Raven says, sounding like she’s started crying. “Thank you for saving our lives.” 

Clarke’s smile widens. “I miss you both.” 

If only they could continue their reunion of sorts. Bellamy could watch Clarke be happy for the rest of their lives and it wouldn’t be enough. But he knows they need to leave. He places a hand gently on her shoulder. “We got to go.” Then into the radio. “Raven, stay safe. We’ll talk soon.” 

[blackcatxmagic]

Nodding, Winter agreed, "Yeah, especially me. I mean...I always have honey here. It's sort of my thing. But I need different ways to enjoy it or else I'll...well, stop enjoying it, you know? And I don't want that because..." Winter trailed off; he knew what he was about to say, but he also knew it might sound stupid. Still, he said it anyway, telling Stoker, "It's so much a part of who I am, beekeeping and selling my honey and all of that, and I kind of don't know who I would be without it." There was one thing though that Winter didn't say out loud: that his bees brought him so much comfort because sometimes it felt like they were the only ones to truly understand him. Their bond was unexplainable and deep, and Winter truly loved them. But he thought that might be too much for Stoker. It seemed like the other understood Winter's point though, and that made him smile. Yes, he was glad the two of them had met.

Upon giving the honey to his new friend, Winter saw his reaction, which made him smile even more in turn. It always felt good to him to make other people happy, and he already knew he'd be giving Stoker another free jar of honey at some point. "It's no big deal," he said, still grinning at them. "I mean...I've got more honey than I can manage sometimes." Right now he didn't have quite as much because it was winter, but he still had more than enough to sell at the markets for the next couple of months. And besides, that wasn't Winter's livelihood anyway - he'd only ever done this because he loved it, not as a job. "I wanted to do something nice for you," he said softly. "I just...I always appreciate when people like me." Winter felt himself getting a little vulnerable now, and he blushed slightly, but still he continued. "Sometimes people think I'm weird or are put-off by the fact that my memory is so terrible," Winter explained further, "so I just...I'm glad you're not one of those people." His cheeks were just a little redder now, but Winter didn't feel embarrassed; he felt like Stoker would understand.

And that was why Winter found himself talking further about the memory issues - he could tell that Stoker wouldn't judge him or make an excuse to leave or something (at least he hoped not). "It's...it's been hard," Winter explained. "I don't even remember how to drive. You know that car in the driveway? That's mine, but it's pretty useless to me. And...and it's not just like a couple of notes." He walked over to a drawer nearby and pulled it open, taking out a stack of notes and holding them up to show Stoker. "See what I mean?" He didn't want to dwell on it too much, but it just felt nice being able to open up about this. There were some things Winter didn't say though, like how he was afraid to even try learning how to drive again because he was worried he wouldn't be able to retain anything he learned. This felt too personal to reveal though, at least for right now. Stoker had nothing but positive and encouraging things to say, and their support made Winter smile, feeling a little less self-conscious. "I'm getting by," he replied, "I am. It's just...it's hard sometimes, and it's embarrassing too." His cheeks were just a little red now, but mostly Winter felt safe and comfortable with his new friend, and he appreciated that greatly.

After the pair had made their tea, Winter sat at the counter with Stoker, taking a sip. "Another way I like honey is on toast," he told Stoker. "Just like drizzled on. If you haven't tried it, well..." He trailed off, nodding toward the jar of honey he'd given the other, a smile on his face. For a couple more minutes, they sat there enjoying their tea, and Winter asked, "So what do you like to do in your free time, Stoker? I guess we still don't know a ton about each other, do we?" Winter felt like Stoker could end up being a good friend, but he wanted to know them more. He removed a small notebook from his pocket as well as a pen, blushing slightly once more. "Is it okay if I take notes?" Winter asked the other.

Stoker laughed. "I am a tea person, yeah. I'm a bit of an avid drinker in general, so I'm a big fan of a lot of drinks, but tea has always been up there with my favourites," they explained, giving a completely unnecessary long winded answer, not unlike Stoker. "I think that's a perfectly acceptable reason to be a tea drinker," Stoker shrugged. "I mean, if you stuck to straight honey all the time I feel like you'd be more likely to get sick of it by now," which definitely wouldn't be a very good thing for someone who was so involved with the making of honey.

"For me?" Stoker confirmed, the smile already on his face growing larger. While he knew that Winter was kind and generous, he didn't expect a whole bottle from his best batch of the year, and that oddly touched Stoker. "Thank you very much, Winter. I'll treat it like liquid gold," he chuckled. He already knew that Silas would be benefitting from the gift too, which made Stoker feel hopeful that he could pay Winter back by sending Silas and his thick wallet his way with some business.

The switch up in conversation to the topic of Winter's accident was one that surprised Stoker so very much, but it wasn't unwelcome. If anything, Stoker valued honesty, particularly when it was honesty regarding something so vulnerable. "You haven't told me this before," Stoker reassured him. "I think the notes are a great way of managing that, that's a really smart use of resources," Stoker's words were completely honest, and his tone was relatively stable; he didn't want to come across like he was pitying Winter in a way that would make him feel less than other's without issues similar. "I know my words are just, well, words, but you don't need to hide them from me." Stoker didn't know how deep Winter's embarrassment went, but he truly did want his friend to know that there was no reason to be ashamed.

"Thank you," Stoker was more than happy to busy himself by putting honey into his tea and moving on to a conversation about it instead. While he meant what he said when speaking of Winter's accident, seeing the way that the other reacted to having left a note out, Stoker didn't want to force him to ruminate on the subject. "This smells amazing with the honey in it," he commented, smile as bright as his sparkling, friendly eyes.

[fujii-draws]

OKAY! Chatot rant in tags below! Read at your own discretion.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Just once, I would like to be able to have a conversation about my feelings with someone where they don't, at some point, start trying to explain to me why something happened such that they are either implying or outright stating I should stop having noticeable feelings at them about a thing and/or telling me that I'm wrong about how I feel and actually if I just understood this thing I would see that I'm being unreasonable to say I feel the way I do.

Just once, for someone's response to be "it sounds like you're feeling [insert thing, e.g hurt, sad, scared, tired, angry, etc], I'm sad that you are dealing with that." Not to take responsibility for my feelings! But for them to acknowledge that they're happening and might matter to me before they move on to whatever the fuck next thing they have to say is

[infiniteseriesofhalfways]

sitting in the parking lot thinking i might vom