#also her emotional core is like. very much drawing from my own childhood. so it's kind of cathartic in a way

[ehlnofay]

immediate follow-up to these pieces

The sabre cat lies in the grass where they promised to stay.

The grass there is tall, and they’re pressed flat against the ground, so from a distance they look like nothing more than a very bright-looking rock. Efri knows better – she sees them, walking the fields holding tight to Sissel’s hand, and she breaks into a run.

She calls a “Hello!” and the sabre cat’s head rises, and Sissel falls down.

She pulls Efri down with her, the both of them hunkering into the dry grass. When Efri looks her in the face she’s wild-eyed. “Efri,” she says through gritted teeth, “what is that?”

“My friend,” says Efri sheepishly. “I told you not to freak out.”

Sissel’s jaw works for several seconds. She’s got that bloody rabbit or feral fox look about her again. Her free hand is clutching at the grass, fingers digging down into the topsoil. “That’s not your friend, Efri,” she finally bursts out. “That’s – I don’t even know what that is!”

“Sabre cat.”

“That’s not a sabre cat! They’ve got those teeth long as your arms! That’s something else!”

She’s being a little bit rude, but Efri can’t really blame her – Efri was a bit scared too, when she first met her friend. And both of their houses have just burned down. Of course Sissel’s jumpy.

(Efri’s still not feeling upset like she should be. The thought doesn’t make her want to cry – it just feels logical. It’s just true.)

“That’s just a rumour,” Efri says loftily. “They don’t really have teeth like that. And this one’s nice, promise, they’re not going to hurt you. They’ve never even ate one of my goats.”

Sissel’s staring. The whites of her eyes almost seem to shine in the beginning of the evening dark. Her face is mottled pale. She yanks her hand away from Efri and curls up in the grass and dirt in a little ball.

“You’re going to get your dress extra dirty,” Efri warns her, but she doesn’t move, so Efri leaves her to calm down and goes to talk to the sabre cat.

They’re waiting, ears pinned down, looking quite uncomfortable. They peer at Efri accusingly.

“That’s my friend Sissel,” she tells them, rubbing her thumb in circles over her stick. “Sorry she’s being a bit rude. She’s upset. Her house burned down.”

The sabre cat chuffs. They still don’t look best pleased, but they flick one of their ears up.

Efri says, “Mine too.”

Sissel’s staying in a ball in the dirt. Efri faintly registers that she’s beginning to feel hungry.

Efri jabs her stick into the ground. “So. I had an idea. Do you want to go to Winterhold?”

Her friend stills. They draw back, posture wary, a low sound in their throat – but their ears turn to face forwards. Efri thinks that might mean they’re listening. It’s hard to tell, most of the time, but she thinks that’s what that means.

“Because you always get excited when I mention it,” Efri continues, turning up turf with the bottom point of her stick, “and Sissel and me can’t really stay here. It’s all burned down. And Sissel’s great at magic – did I ever tell you that? – and that’s where the College is, up north, and if we go there then she can learn. It would be hard to go by ourselves, but if you’d come with us, then we could all help each other. We could all go.”

Sissel’s still on the ground. The sabre cat stands up, flicking one of their paws.

“Do you want to come with us?” Efri persists.

The sabre cat leans down and thunks her gently on the head with their chin.

“That’s not an answer,” Efri says. They sniff at her.

It’s hard, because this is an important conversation, and it feels very one-sided. At least when Sissel argued the idea she could make points Efri could refute. The sabre cat just lashes their tail and looks doubtful. (Why won’t they just agree? Don’t they know that Efri’s trying?)

Efri sighs and turns back to crouch down next to Sissel. “I’m trying to explain the idea but I don’t know if they like it or not. Can you help?”

Sissel’s arm slips down off her face. She looks at Efri balefully out of the one eye that’s visible. She doesn’t speak.

And Efri gets it. She knows it’s a lot. She knows it’s a weird plan and a weirder day and she knows Sissel is probably upset about the houses and Jouane and how she had to hide under someone’s porch when a dragon came, the right amount of upset, as upset as Efri should be, and she knows Sissel clams up when things go wrong and she knows this is how they always do it, Sissel small and frightened and Efri the strong friend, the one in charge, coaxing her out of her head and making plans and making it better, she knows all of it. But.

But her throat still hurts and her legs are still tingling and she’s tired of trying to be positive, strong, the one in charge.

“Sissel,” she says, voice grating and croaky, “I’m trying.” And she’s not crying exactly but her throat feels stiff and she’s hungry and tired too. She drops her stick and sits next to Sissel in the dirt. “I’m trying. I don’t know what to do.”

Winterhold makes sense. It’s a place both the others want to go – she thinks, at least. And Sissel would do well there, she can learn, she can stop being afraid. And she just needs to get out, get the both of them out. They can’t stay here, not after this. Efri can’t stay to watch the town get rebuilt when something inside her has been clamouring for what feels like forever to tear it down. She can’t stick it out, counting down the months until she’s reached whatever arbitrary age is old and responsible enough to leave, soothing Sissel each time she gets hurt and nobody does anything to prevent it, staying stiff and silent at the dinner table. She hasn’t talked to her parents in the last week, been out in the mornings before they wake up and not back until the lights were put out and they were abed. There’s a rage knocking around inside her at it all. She can feel it like a stone deep in her stomach. She doesn’t want to be angry any more than Sissel wants to be scared. She wants to stop it now before it gets bigger.

She was just trying to find a solution. She just wanted things to be better for everyone.

Dimly, she recognises Sissel’s hand on her shoulder, her arms around her. She’s sitting with her head in between her knees, the stained orange fabric of her smock stretched out against her face. She can hear Sissel’s voice, soft and unsteady, but she’s not talking to her.

She looks up.

The sabre cat is standing just a little in front of them, low to the ground, cautious; Sissel, gripping Efri’s shoulder tight, is talking to them. “She says you want to go to Winterhold.”

They nod very slowly.

“Um,” Sissel says. “Do you want to go with us? I don’t think Efri wants to go back.”

“Do you want to go back?” Efri mumbles. Sissel’s hair is tickling her face.

Sissel shakes her head. “Just don’t know if it’s smart, is all.”

The sabre cat sighs, long and low, and nudges Efri’s scrunched-up body with their paw. Sissel breathes sharply in – but of course Efri isn’t hurt, and she relaxes.

“I don’t know what to do,” Efri tells the both of them.

Sissel squeezes her tightly; the sabre cat sighs again and prods their head a bit under her leg. It doesn’t really work because they’re so much bigger than she is, but they do it again, and again, till Efri gets the message and the girls pull each other to their feet. The sabre cat lets Efri flop over their neck, same as before, and it isn’t until Efri’s adjusting her position that she remembers, mumbles, “My stick!” Sissel picks it up from where she threw it to the ground and passes it up to her. Then, nervously, Sissel climbs up over the sabre cat’s back too, wrapping her arms around Efri’s waist for balance.

“I know you don’t like giving people rides, so thanks,” Efri whispers to them, her fingers curled into their long tawny hair, and they chuff and start walking.

They end up at the cave, of course – where else? It’s well dark by now. Sissel sparks a light in her palm, casting an eerie glow over the damp cave walls, and Efri is delighted to see that the goats are all still there – or almost all, after she does a head count. “Good,” she praises them, slipping off her friend’s back, and feels a pang when she thinks that she’ll probably leave them behind. She’s never too attached to any in particular – they’re livestock, after all – but the herd as a whole has been her constant companion since she was four or thereabouts. Basically a baby. She’ll miss their snuffling, cloven-hoofed presence.

They light a little fire there in the cave, Efri and Sissel gathering and stacking sticks for it. Efri’s fire-flint lights the sparks and Sissel, though she hasn’t learned yet how to make a flame out of nothing, helps them grow.

Efri finds some nuts in her pocket and shares them around. She and Sissel savour them, crunching them into little pieces; the sabre cat swallows them whole. She doesn’t give any to the goats; they’re chewing aimlessly on the moss and don’t seem to need them.

They all lie down, then. It’s still early but it’s been a long, long day, and it’s warm and comfy with the fire going. The sabre cat lies down, and Efri and then Sissel lie against their side – they make a rumbly noise like a purr, which is a bit funny – and then even the goats come and lie with them too, little hoofs and horns digging into Efri’s legs. It shouldn’t be comfortable, and it isn’t, but it really, really is.

Maybe they’ll go to Winterhold tomorrow. They’ll talk about it.

Efri thinks, half-asleep, that her parents probably haven’t even noticed she’s gone – she’s out of the house all the time they’re in it, and now they don’t even have a house to meet in. She wonders if they’d forget about her like they seemed to forget Onmund. She wonders if she cares.

Onmund is there, at Winterhold, at the College. If she goes there she’s almost sure to see him. Does she want to see him?

She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know how she feels about anything today. Maybe she’ll know tomorrow.

Efri closes her eyes. Against the rise and fall of her sabre cat friend’s ribcage, with Sissel’s knees resting in her lap and one of the kids rubbing the side of its face against her bare foot, she falls asleep.

They’ll sort things out in the morning.

[idrisofficial]

Which characters/character do you feel most personally/emotionally involved with and why?

oh this is a very difficult question and i appreciate it very much. as any creator would, i’m inclined to say all of them in different ways…but that’s kind of a cop-out.

i think i’ll say brinne and lennox. they’re not the characters i relate to the most, but i do think i feel the most emotional connection towards them. a lot of what draws me to them is their silent suffering—both of them live in glass prisons of their own making. a lot of this is mental illness related, but their natural dispositions are also of great influence (although lennox’s natural disposition is extremely debatable when you consider nature vs nurture).

brinne was the first of any of my idris characters to exist, and the depth of her development definitely follows suit. her transition from a manic but deeply idealistic teenager to a reticent and self-interested monarch through the buildup of her childhood trauma and the final straw of her near death experience is so deliciously heartbreaking. her loneliness, her codependency with adrian, her sexual and alcoholic coping mechanisms, her deep uncertainty in the religion that gives meaning to her entire life…poor girl can’t catch a break. brinne has always been the focus of idris, and i’ve had fun and i’ve had pain hurting her like i do. most of the actual writing that i’ve accomplished revolves around her, and for good reason. she is at the core of the conflicts plaguing idris’s centuries-old culture and still just a twenty two year old girl who never really got to grow up. sometimes i act as though her teenage self and her adult self are two separate people, but the truth is that they are painfully intertwined. brinne’s suppression of her idealism and desire for change in service to her desperate attempts at self-preservation is what drives her motivations throughout every iteration of this story. she cannot escape who she is, try as she might. and i think there’s something so, so compelling about that for someone in a position of such horrible power like she is.

lennox is layer upon layer upon layer. the fact that he was originally inspired by byakuya togami? we’re not gonna talk about that. lennox has also come a long way as a character, the third to exist after brinne and adrian. he’s an og. lennox was a nice kid up until about age six, where the kindness was quite literally shattered in him to make room for solid perfection. a machine with style. he grew into the role almost too perfectly. the pinnacle of competence, a voice of absolute reason and logic amidst his generally wild and dysfunctional generation of nobles. here is why i feel such connection to lennox. he is ice on the outside, ice on the inside, speaks only when necessary but controls the conversation, and casually usurps the throne from time to time. he has studied these same people for sixteen years, understands most of them sickeningly well, and appears virtually flawless aside from his mansplainer bullshit. but my god is he grumpy, bitchy, flamboyant, perfectionistic to the point of petulance, and baselessly sadistic. he’s the second most powerful person in the country and he has constant migraines from dealing with others’ bullshit. he loves his siblings. he’s one of only two characters to understand his sexuality and he’s deeply afraid of it. he gets no bitches. he’s still mourning the death of the cousin whose death he was responsible for and who he was boyishly in love with. he’s sensible as all hell, but my god, he is fucking losing it. nobody gets that. even the people who hate him don’t get that. they hate him for his pretentious swag but don’t understand how much of a loser he actually is. anyways. i’m on a tangent now. he’s flawless. he’s horrible. there is no changing who he is, but would he ever have turned out like this naturally? lennox is a product of both what others have made him into and what he has forced himself to embody. there is no lennox that isn’t a diamond formed under absolute pressure.

[itsthemoofacewriting]

It’s heaven in your arms

Well, this is just a clusterfuck of emotions. Let me lead you down the path of grief and mourning only for it to end with a bed sharing trope.

I have no idea if there are even people that like the original trio together romantically, but I was really vibing, so hopefully I can convince some of my regular readers to take the plunge.

If any of my ZoNami readers are here, I’m doing the requests you all sent in – I swear!

I’m not sure what to expect from posting this, so I’ll say this once pre-emptively: if this isn’t your cup of tea, you know where the door is, please leave quietly.  

Summary: It may have been two years since Ace’s death but, for Luffy, sometimes it still felt like just yesterday. Or, sometimes, something beautiful can blossom from a place of hurt. Rating: T

You can also find this on AO3 and FFN.

Nami awoke, eyes burning from lack of sleep and mouth dry. It was still dark outside, and she grumbled to herself at waking up so early, but it was no use. She wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep until she had a glass of water. She swung her feet off the bed, clumsily trying to find her slippers before getting up. It was warm outside, so she didn’t bother with anything other than her pyjama top and shorts.

As annoying as it was to be awake so early, it was peaceful. It was a quick shuffle across the deck and into the kitchen, where she filled her glass hastily, already thinking about getting back into bed.

That last thing she expected when leaving the kitchen was the sight of Luffy sitting on the railing, facing the ocean with his feet kicking over the edge. Reckless as always it seemed.

“If you fell, no one would be around to save you,” She lectured.

His shoulders hunched; she’d surprised him it seemed, but he didn’t react as she’d expected. There was no carefree laughter or beaming grin as he told her not to be a worry wart. Instead, she received a muffled, “You’re up.”

Without looking at his face she didn’t know how to take that but his whole attitude was off, and it had alarm bells going off in her head. The comfort of her bed a distant memory now as she walked over to the railing to join him and settled her glass of water beside herself.

The words on the tip of her tongue vanished into the night air when she finally caught sight of his face. His eyes were red and puffy, his face pale despite his constant tan and drawn. It was an expression she’d never seen on his face. He looked defeated.

He looked tired.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, just as she’d expected him too and uttered out a quiet, “No.”

“That’s okay, but I’m going to sit here,” she told him. He could sit in silence if that was what he wanted, but she wouldn’t leave him, that wasn’t an option.

She took his hand in hers because whilst he may not want to speak, he’d always been a tactile person and she couldn’t just sit here and not do anything when there were tears still running down his face.

They sat in silence, only the sound of the waves hitting the ship could be heard with their thighs pressed snuggly against the others and his hand clasped in hers, a thumb absently roaming over the skin of his wrist. His tears had resided for the time being, only the stray one falling every now.

She felt like she was sitting with a deer, trying not to spook it because it felt like any wrong move would have him scampering away.

Well, that was until he pried his hand from hers and she was going to say something until his head feel heavily against her shoulder and an arm wrapped around her body. That was all she needed to let herself relax, no longer worried about scaring him away as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders to pull him closer.

It was another long moment of them sitting like that until he whispered in her shoulder, “It hurts.”

“What hurts?”

He was silent but the tears were back as she felt them soaking into her pyjama top.

“I had a bad dream.”

“Yeah? What about?” She encouraged softly.

“About him.” His voice cracked as he said it and his shoulders shook.

There was only one him she knew of.

“It played in a loop, and I couldn’t do anything.”

Although she was being fed the information in dribs and drabs, it wasn’t hard to piece it together. She waited for him to continue but the long pause told her he wasn’t going to.

She thought about what she’d want in that moment, if their roles were reversed, what she’d want from the other person sat with her, so she settled on, “I only met him briefly, tell me more about him. What was it like growing up with him?”

He was quiet and for a moment she didn’t think he was going to respond, that maybe that wasn’t what he wanted at all.

“He hated me when we were younger,” he said wetly, fighting through tears to talk. “I caused trouble, couldn’t fight and cried a lot. He called me cry baby all the time.”

“He didn’t when we met him in Alabasta though.” She remembered how he’d looked at Luffy, eyes full of adoration and voice warm as he asked the crew to look after Luffy for him.

He huffed out a laugh at her words, such a stark contrast to his normal boisterous laugh.

He told her everything. How Ace had gone from despising him to accepting him as a brother along with his other brother, Sabo, how they’d caused trouble together and had the best times together. How he’d made Luffy’s childhood a happy one.

It made her ache. Because as he talked, selfishly she thought about her own sister. How devasted she’d be to lose her, someone that felt like her other half since before she could remember, knew her better than anyone else, who she could talk to about anything. It was hard to explain a sibling relationship to someone without one, there was a different feeling to, you felt it in your core.

Mostly, she thought about how hollow she’d feel.

It felt like an unspoken rule that siblings were for life. You knew that parents were older and that they’d pass at some point in your life, but not your sibling. It felt like they were meant to be with you for life, that you’d grow old together and have each other’s backs no matter what to the very end.

She supposed that was part of the grief.

Although she didn’t know the ins and outs, even now Luffy was edging around his dream and what’d happened back then, she knew the key details - how Ace had jumped in front of him to save him. How Ace had died before his eyes. Even if she suspected there was more to that moment than what she knew, it was traumatic enough.

Another tangled chain to unwrap from the knotted ball of necklaces that was grief.

Ultimately, she didn’t need to know what the dream was about or what’d happened back then, because the picture she had in her mind was vivid enough and she knew how he felt. Watching someone slip away before your eyes, helpless as you watched them go and wishing you’d done something different.

Her heart bled for him as he spoke, words blurring into his tears, she could feel her own eyes prickling as sadness overflowed.

Hands clumsily wiped at her face and belatedly she realised Luffy had stopped talking. “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said.

Without thinking, she wiped his face in return. “It’s okay, I’m glad I get to share this with you.”

She cupped his face and she meant it as a soothing gesture, yet it seemed to have the opposite effect. Watching his face crumple before her eyes was so much worse than how she’d imagined it when his face had been buried in her shoulder. He was so expressive all the time that she shouldn’t really be surprised, his lips quivered and those big eyes scrunched as he tried to hold back his tears.

“I know I still have so much, and I should focus on that…”

“But that doesn’t make that little part feel any better?”

“Yeah.”

“I know. It’s not going to either.” He nodded glumly at her words, staying silent and she suspected it was because he couldn’t form words. “You love him. That’s not going to disappear no matter what happens.”

She continued because she needed to say it, to let him know this was okay before she the moment passed, and he locked this all away to deal with another night. “You’re allowed to mourn him, you’re allowed to feel sad without feeling guilty, but when it overwhelms you, tell one of us, okay?” She paused, thinking over her words, before adding, “And even when it doesn’t overwhelm you and you just want company, come find us.”

“Okay.” He sounded choked up, more so than before.

She brought him back into a firm hug, running her hands up and down his back, letting her words sink in and giving him a chance to speak or cry more if he wanted to.

His next words told her they were done for the time being.

“I don’t want to go back to sleep,” he said.

She didn’t have to ask why. She still woke up sometimes in the middle of the night, tears in her eyes as she relived all different versions of Bell-mère’s death, each worse than the last. She knew that he feared having to relive his worst nightmare over again or catching even a whisp of his brother behind closed eyelids, taunting him over the fact that that would be the only way he’d ever be able to see him again.

“I don’t either,” she lied smoothly, “We could raid the fridge-” Sanji would understand- “or I could show you a new card trick or we could go draw on Zoro’s face. He’s probably up in the crow’s nest and he sleeps like a log.”

Luffy grinned, it didn’t reach his eyes like it normally did but that was okay, it was an improvement on the solemn expression from before. “Usopp just bought new markers!”

They both turned at the sound of heavy footsteps and the very person they’d been planning to mess with was stood only a few steps away.

“Why do you two look guilty?” He looked suspiciously at them both.

Neither of them answered, but she saw the moment Zoro noticed Luffy’s face and took in his red, puffy eyes and worn expression. His demeanour changed instantly, he looked serious, and he didn’t say anything more as he joined them on the railing, pressing up to Luffy’s vacant side and taking his other free hand into his- he could probably feel that it was wet from Luffy’s tears.

The ocean lapped silently against the ship and whatever plans her and Luffy had made seemed to be put on hold as he stayed sat on the railing, but that was fine with her, she was happy to sit there with him in silent support.

“It should’ve been me,” Luffy finally spoke, voice sure but only a whisper.

Those were heavy words, she imagined how often that thought circled around in his head and how hard it must have been to finally say it out loud.

“That’s stupid,” Zoro said.

“Zoro,” she hissed. For his blunt words and because Luffy looked on the verge of tears, it made her heart crumble all over again.

“Ace loved you a lot and he didn’t do it for you to think that; he wouldn’t want that. It was his choice and he made it and he’d do it a hundred times over.”

He made a good point, she knew that, but a tough love speech felt too soon.

“Zoro’s not stupid all the time,” Luffy defended weakly, smile wobbly.

Maybe not.

“Oi.”

Nami shook her head, smiling slightly at their antics. “Unfortunately, I have to agree with you. Shall we agree it’s a 10% smart and 90% stupid?”

Zoro tried to look miffed, although it was betrayed by the smirk tugging at his lips. He knew what she was doing, trying to lighten Luffy’s spirits, so he let it slide.

“Well, we can’t draw on Zoro’s face now-” Zoro glowered at her- “but if you want an extra challenge, we could get Usopp or Sanji.” They were light sleepers; she knew he’d be up for the challenge.

Luffy smiled, nodding tiredly and stifled a yawn that had her and Zoro sharing a quick look between them.

“You can sleep with me if you want,” Zoro offered nonchalantly and Luffy perked up at that.

She should leave them to get on with it. They’d made their arrangements already and in the back of her mind, she knew she should, but Luffy’d told her so much, it felt callous to just palm him off. And maybe, somewhere deep down she didn’t like the thought of being left out. Maybe.

The words were out before she’d properly thought them through.

“You can both sleep in my bed.”

“Like a sleepover!” Luffy said and his eyes brightened, a shimmer of what normally resided there returning.

“It’s a one-time offer and no one tells Sanji!” Nami warned even though Luffy looked considerably lighter and Zoro was smirking at her. She didn’t doubt Zoro would store that away to use against Sanji later, but she’d deal with that then. And if he decided to blab, she’d then have the perfect opportunity to charge him, and he wouldn’t be able to say a thing.

The walk to her room was quiet, only the sounds of their shoes thumping against the deck with every step, getting louder and louder as they got closer to her room. She wondered if she’d regret this. What if she’d made it awkward? She should’ve just let Zoro and Luffy bunk together.

Opening the door felt heavy, like something awful would be waiting for her on the other side. Instead, there was just a dark, muted room to greet her and the awkwardness she felt doubled to the point she wondered if the other two felt it too. She wasn’t sure if she was thankful or not that Robin was still asleep, facing away from them.

All those thoughts were put to rest as Zoro and Luffy moved past her, seemingly more than comfortable with this arrangement than her. Zoro shucked off his boots and settled against the far side of the bed so his back faced the wall and Luffy kicked off his flip flops, his hat already sat safely on her bedside unit.

“Absolutely not,” Nami whispered fiercely, hands on hips and they both peered up at her quizzically. “I’m not sleeping on the edge only to wake up on the floor. Zoro, swap.”

“What, so I can wake up on the floor instead?”

“You can sleep anywhere!”

Luffy had snickered at their bickering, watching them go back and forth until he seemingly grew bored of that and stretched his arm out to wrap around her waist. As his arm snapped back, he dragged her with it, she collided with the both of them in her bed. Like a true rubber man, Luffy looked unbothered although she was fairly sure she’d kicked him, but Zoro wheezed behind her as she’d winded him with her elbow.

“That hurt!” Nami moaned.

“Think before you do that!” Zoro grouchily whispered.

“There we go, now we’re all cosy.” He ignored them both, nestling down into the bed as his arm reached across Nami to rest over onto Zoro.

“Luffy!” She squawked, rosy faced. “Move over! You have all that space!”

This was not what she’d had in mind when she’d invited them… into her bed. Although she didn’t have a massive bed, she’d thought they’d at least try to keep their distance, she hadn’t expected this. Luffy was so close she could feel his breath on her face and his hair brushed against her forehead, no doubt mingling in with her own strands. She could feel Zoro spooned behind her, his own arm outstretched across them both and she was only now just considering how appropriate her pyjama shorts were. Which was ridiculous, it was only those two.  

All of this didn’t feel right, they were there for Luffy, he should be the one in the middle not her. He should be the one squashed between them, safe and warm and feeling supported, not her. Yet one look at his face put all of that to rest. You could still tell he’d been crying; the puffiness would take a few hours to go down, but he looked relaxed, the tormented and weight in his expression gone.

He looked content.

And that was enough right now for her brain to shut off, thoughts pushed to the back for another day, and have her burying into the warmth from the two bodies next to her with the knowledge that everything would be okay for now.

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This was meant to be a one-shot, but it’s now a two parter at no one’s request. I’m writing/editing the second chapter right now; it’s on its way.  

I used to ship LuNami hard when I was younger, but I think I’ve lost my ability to write them romantically nowadays… unless you throw in Zoro and then it’s back on apparently.

I write and edit all my pieces by myself, so if there’s any errors, please excuse them.

Thanks for reading.

[amelia]

related to that last ask but now i actually have a question! what are your favourite episodes for amy as a character? (sorry if i’m pestering you btw you don’t have to answer right away ❣️)

it is absolutely never a bother for me to talk about amy pond!! gosh though this is a Question. okay. i did interpret this as episodes that are my favorite for the lens of My Understanding Of Amy instead of favorite pond era episodes as a whole if that makes sense? under the cut bc i got long as i tend to do

i think my number 1 has to be the big bang, because it really is just like. okay, pond era absolutely runs into the problem of frequently making stories/episodes that should be centered around amy's emotional journey actually about somebody else — but the big bang is all hers. it is all on her! she's leading the show SHE'S the one in the pandorica SHE'S the one who remembers the doctor into existence it is HER choice to say goodbye to leadworth and continue to travel completely without remorse SHE IS THE HERO. it goes from "time can be rewritten, he'll find a way" to AMY being the one who finds the way. rory and river and the doctor all of course get their Moments but it's unquestionably amy's spotlight moment the whole way through

i have also ALWAYSSS been obsessed with starless universe amelia and the way that she still believes in stars in a world where they DON'T EXIST the power of her mind and the conviction of her beliefs is a CORE TENET of amy's character, the doctor has NOTHING to do with it!!! it's just who she is !!! best character of all time <3

other things about the amy's writing in this episode i love: the line "the universe pouring into her dreams every night," space florida outfit <3, ok i obviously do not love this but i think so much about amy talking about the doctor at her wedding and her mother is still like "NOT THIS SHIT AGAIN… i thought the psychiatrists FIXED her" like once again !!! a UNIVERSAL CONSTANT that amy is the one who believes in things nobody else does and is LOUD about it and is RIGHT !!! (let's kill hitler tried to retcon this but it simply won't work on me ❤️ just like anything else about the let's kill hitler flashbacks ❤️❤️❤️), OKAY DOCTOR DID I SURPRISE YOU THIS TIME? <3

number 2, i think, is the eleventh hour itself? like it's just… i've rewatched it so many times and it's still the most captivating character introduction i have ever seen. i know i'm biased but i love it so much. her introduction as a clearly neglected seven year old girl (constantly think about the deleted line that has her talking to aunt sharon and saying "you're not supposed to leave me, i'm seven!" WOOF) who's not afraid of anything except for the crack in her wall… she has drawings up all over her house of burning houses, she draws smiley faces into her apples bc her mom used to do that, she can cook for herself way better than i could at seven, and she desperately just wants to leave. but when the doctor tells her he'll be back in five minutes, amy is already so used to adults leaving her and breaking their promises that she doesn't believe him. but he makes her believe anyway. and he doesn't come back.

and all of the rest of her character hinges on that introduction — of course she has to believe him, he was REAL, nobody can take his realness away from her even if she is the only one who believes. but he also left her all alone for so long, just like everyone else who was supposed to be there for her did, so what good does that to her? so yeah of course she grows up angry and bitter and hiding those layers of hurt deeply under the surface, scorning all attachment and serious relationships because she knows she can't trust them. she outwardly distances herself from her childhood self by changing her name but she IS still just such a child inside.

she's not ready to settle, to grow up, to become what everyone in her tiny village wants her to be, thinks that she should be — so when she gets the chance to GO, of course she takes it. but she's also not just going to let the doctor off the hook for [gestures] her entire life, you know? the exchanges "people always say that" "i'm not people, do i even look like people?" | "people always have a reason" "do i look like people?" "Yes." always just GUT ME. she may trust him but it's NOT a blind trust, it can't be.

number 3 has to be the beast below it just makes me SCREAM how good that episode is at really developing amy through her compassion for other people — right from the start she sees that kid crying and she thinks the doctor must ignore stuff like this all the time, and she says that she could never do that. she's learning and intuiting leaps and bounds about the doctor with everything he says to her — which is another one of my favorite amy character traits, the way she is SO quick to pick up on things about other people and analyze them. everything that she picks up about the doctor allows her to KNOW what to do to save the star whale, allows her to be confident in the fact that the star whale wanted to help the whole time. the choice is IN HER HANDS she IS THE HERO <3 as she always should be. you couldn't just stand there and watch people cry! all that pain and misery and loneliness and it MADE IT KIND. i don't care how overused that quote is it still HITS !!!

um. number 4 is the girl who waited but my very specific headcanon-ridden interpretation and cutting out all that garbage "rory's the most beautiful man i've ever met" "defying destiny causality the nexus of time itself for a boy" bullshit. idk there's so many terrible things about this episode but it also gave me so much to think about when it comes to amy it's on my mind a LOT. one thing i think about is the way it parallels amy's first abandonment by the doctor — not just in the obvious sense but in the way that she's actively fighting for her life in a hostile atmosphere, but nobody else SEES it as a hostile atmosphere. the two streams facility is leadworth like it really is. and what adds a more chilling component is the way the handbots signature line is "do not be alarmed, this is a kindness" — like all the people who were trying to convince amy she was crazy throughout her entire childhood really thought they were doing her a kindness. they thought they were helping her. but they were killing her. because she wasn't made for that environment.

beyond that i am just obsessed with 36-years-later amy she is an icon she is a legend she is the moment i don't care! every mean thing she said about the doctor and rory was absolutely deserved and in fact she should have been so much meaner! she is SO SMART she makes her own SONIC PROBES OUT OF CAMERA PHONES the fact that she even was able to SURVIVE THAT LONG and in COMPLETE isolation and still retain her own mental faculties is just insane to me it speaks so much about her insane mental strength oh my god it makes me sooo emotional i am tearing up a little typing this right now.

i just am always THINKING about the line "there he is, the voice of god. number one lesson: survive, because no one's coming for you. you taught me that" it says SO MUCH about her. oh my god older amy didn't want to die she'll be kicking and screaming and fighting til the end… i fucking hate this show and picking and choosing when paradoxes should apply OLDER AMY DESERVED TO LIVE

number 5 is probably the power of three but my own very headcanon infused interpretation of it. because it's like. the ultimate miscommunication/misunderstanding that exists between amy and the doctor coming to a head. where amy in 7.02 is like "i can't not wait for you, even now. (…) we think you're weaning us off you" (that line always makes me slow exhale … the phrasing of the doctor as a drug) and the doctor keeps insisting that's not true, "you'll be there until the end of me" "or vice versa" (and they have that loaded held stare and you know they're both thinking about what he said to her before he left in the god complex…)

but it's not until this episode where amy starts to actually believe he means it. at the same time she's spent so much TIME preparing for the inevitable moment where the doctor says goodbye and doesn't say hello ever again that she's not willing to fully hope that the doctor really means it when he says that he would never leave her permanently on purpose. and i love that this episode gives amy a lot of space to verbally communicate her emotions because the later pond episodes SORELY LACK THAT. and amy tells him, don't be nice to me, don't stop coming around just because you think that's the kind thing to do. even though she says herself that she doesn't know if she can have "both" — she knows that she can tell the doctor to stay, in her own way, and that he'll listen.

ideally they would have just gone off traveling together forever after that and the angels take manhattan did not happen but unlike what the doctor says about amy, i don't ever get what i want 🙃

also, this episode gave amy friends that weren't rory or the doctor or river so i love it for that on principal <3 i know amy had fun being the bridesmaid at laura's lesbian wedding. and kate!!

( i do hate that this episode ends with that conversation between brian and the doctor. i hate brian as a character and i will forever. won't get into this right now but OUGH )

honestly this list is kind of wobbly and might change if you asked me in a month so i'll just rattle off other favorite episodes / moments real quickly: the good night minisode (it counts!), RIVER SONG DIDN'T GET IT ALL FROM YOU SWEETIE (timeline frozen amy my beloved!), "i remember it so it happened so i did it," vincent and the doctor specifically when vincent tells amy that he hears the song of her sadness…. ow, i could write a whole other essay about amy's choice and how it is so much more complex than people give it credit for but this post is already so goddamn long

[enneagramwingmiranda]

Stranger Things: The actual enneagram types of Mike, Lucas, Dustin, Will, Eleven, and Max

The Lover: Mike Wheeler [Type 2]

“El, are you there? El? It’s me, it’s Mike. It’s day 352, 7:40 pm, I am still here. If you’re out there, say something… or give me a sign, I won’t, I won’t even say anything, I just… I want to know if you’re okay.”

Enneagram wing: 2w1|2w3 (Helper along with the reformer and achiever)

Core Desire: To feel loved, needed, and appreciated

Core Fear: Being rejected, unwanted and unneeded

Mike is a loyal to a fault going through great lengths to be there for his friends. He was willing to sacrifice himself off a cliff to protect Dustin. He never gave up pursing justice for Will. He also hid Eleven in his home despite the repercussions he may face with his parents and the evil scientists. The hidden motivation behind his actions are to be needed, loved, and wanted. He is very good at intuiting others needs as we see this in his close friendship with Will in season 2 and in his blossoming relationship with Eleven. He sees the good in others and is very trusting which Lucas, a type 6, doesn’t quite understand. He often asserts himself in situations where he is not needed and we see this become a conflict in his relationship with Eleven in season 3. We see him often go into an 8 in stress where he becomes aggressive, outspoken, dominating, and advocating for justice. I believe he leans on both of his wings equally; he shows to have a strong sense of right and wrong but also a innate desire to succeed, be admired, and respected. 

The Intuitive One: Will Byers [Type 4]

"Sometimes the bad guys are smart too."

Enneagram wing: 4w5 (Individualist along with the investigator)

Core Desire: Being accepted for one’s uniqueness 

Core Fear: Being inherently flawed, inadequate, or mundane

Will is the stand out of the bunch not just because of his strong introversion but also his imaginative mind and artistic hobbies. He has never been interested in what his age group has been interested in therefore he is misunderstood by his peers. He also lacked a strong father figure and this has resulted in deep feelings of inadequacy. He desires to be seen and understood by others and it doesn’t help his case that he “died” and lived to tell the tale. I’m hoping to see Will grow more into himself in the upcoming seasons because he is a valuable and important character. His link to the Upside Down proves that. I think he leans on his wing 5 for his intellectual hobbies. 

The Defender: Eleven [Type 9]

“I’m going to my friends. I’m going home.”

Enneagram wing: 9w8 (Peacemaker along with the challenger)

Core Desire: Inner peace and human connection

Core Fear: Instability and separation

Contrary to the life she’s had and the chaotic situations she constantly finds herself in, Eleven is 100% motivated by having inner peace. She is very much values her friends and adoptive family and leans on her wing 8 to protect them. She is a very complex character and this is clearly from the emotional and physical trauma she suffered in her childhood; she is tough but also extremely empathetic and has has the ability to see things objectively rather than emotionally (a true gift of a 9). This is shown in her choosing to spare one of the scientist’s life from Brenner’s lab despite his contribution to her abuse and Eight (Kali) pressuring her to show no mercy. She empathized with Billy and his abuse despite him being a raging bully. 

The Safeguard: Lucas Sinclair [Type 6]

“We have a lot of rules in our party, but the most important is, 'Friends don't lie.' Never ever. No matter what.”

Enneagram wing: 6w5 | 6w7 (Loyalist along with investigator and enthusiast)

Core Desire: To have security

Core Fear: Being without security

Lucas has demonstrated an innate maturity since season 1. He pushes others to practice self preservation. He likes to have a plan in their action and adventure. Lucas is motivated by his desire to be safe so he calls out others in their stupor, so much so, that his friends are nervous to confess their mistakes to him; this clashes with Mike’s agenda as his need to serve, love, and be there for others. Mike’s potential to be compromised by rose colored glasses, poses as a threat to Lucas’s need for security. Max makes it harder for him in achieving security by constantly raising the bar him in their relationship. Despite this, Max’s challenging nature is what is most attractive to him because it somewhat alludes to security. I think Lucas has balanced wings and draws from his intellectual side as well as his adventurous side. 

The Analyst: Dustin Henderson [Type 5]

“You always say we should never stop being curious, to always open any curiosity door we find. Why are you keeping this curiosity door locked?”

Enneagram wing: 5w6 (Investigator along with loyalist)

Core Desire: To be capable and competent 

Core Fear: Annihilation, depletion, and being viewed as lacking in capability

Dustin is the clear intellect of the Stranger Kids clan. He is always learning and storing information, mentally retrieving it up when necessary. He is essentially the one who makes the needed mental connections in their quest for victory. He is awkwardly confident yet insecure. He cares a lot about what others think of him and is motivated by a need to be seen as competent. Dustin’s friends mean the world to him and valuing that security from this support/community shows that leans on his wing 6. 

The Advocate: Max Mayfield [Type 8]

“It's just, I know I can be a jerk like him sometimes, and I do not want to be like him. Ever.”

Enneagram wing: 8w7 | 8w9 (Challenger along with enthusiast and the peacemaker)

Core Desire: Self protection and protecting my people

Core Fear: Being weak, powerless, and controlled 

Max is the toughest one of the bunch with almost bully-like qualities. She marches to the beat of her own drum and doesn’t care what other people think. Her character flaw is that she can be too careless sometimes at the expense of others. She is self aware of that though and does her best to combat it. She is motivated by a need to protect herself because no one ever protected her against the abuse of her brother and step-father. Despite her tough act, she cares deeply for her friends and will do whatever she can to protect them too; She is willing to be vulnerable to bond with them. She does not show to lean on either wing making me think she has balanced wings. She definitely doesn’t like to commit too quickly to anything and keep her options open (7) but also can try her best to mediate (9) when this is required of her. 

Note: In honor of Stranger Things 4 possibly coming out in 2021. See my typing of the Stranger Things adults here: https://enneagramwingmiranda.tumblr.com/post/639047330136522752/stranger-things-the-actual-enneagram-types-of

[rinharu-purple]

Lucien: MLQC’s Mastermind

Yes, I said that Lucien is the creepiest LI in my opinion, and I wouldn’t choose him in a million, billion years. BUT, Lucien is by far the one person, who is pulling the strings and is the driving force of the MLQC universe. He is the only person who acquires all the information from all sides and is connected to every important actor in the story. Therefore, Lucien has become the second LI I’ve started to follow more attentively. Mind that the ranking ist 1) Gavin 2) Gavin 3) Gavin 4) Lucien ;)

In my manifesto, why Gavin is MC’s choice, I’ve already mentioned briefly, that Lucien has the strongest EVOL among all the characters but is also the strongest character (it’s not the MC or the Black Queen, let’s not fool ourselves)

The Machiavellian

Before we talk about Lucien’s part in the MLQC universe, we should first look at him as person and observe the elements that make up his personality.

In the game, all our guys have their personal priorities. Gavin and Kiro are on the front line, fighting for peace and prosperity, Victor, well...I don’t think that he cares for anything else besides MC, maybe his position. But with Lucien, his priority is not a person or a concept, but rather a philosophy. Lucien wants to see the next step in human evolution and is determined to take any measures necessary to see it to it’s end. Other guys can not stand oblivious to other things that come up their way in achieving their goals but Lucien only has his eyes on the prize and to him nothing else matters, no one else matters and no ethics matter. 

Machiavellianism denotes cunningness and claims, that those dark triads use whatever means necessary to gain power. If we consider the choices Lucien has made throughout the story so far, we can clearly find his manipulative ways in getting other actors to the positions of his conjecture. He lies to MC and hides his personality as Ares, penetrates Black Swan to use their facilities, but also uses LFG’s resources for his R&D projects all the while concealing his true nature. 

Another trait of a Machiavellian, is that he is charismatic and friendly, all the while displaying no emotions. I think, there can be two possible reasons as to why Lucien has limited display of emotions. The first possible explanation has something to do with his parents passing and the trauma he suffered afterwards. Among all LIs Lucien is the one with the most loveless childhood and teenage years, the most important years in developing one’s psychological traits and during those years Lucien received alongside with Kiro the most blows. That resulted in him losing the connection to his emotions as a defense mechanism. 

Another possibility might be him losing the connection to his emotions as a result of a chemical reaction in his brain due to excessive testing Black Swan objected him to. Lucien’s EVOL was created in a lab and he was the first man-made Evolver. Lucien is called various times a psychopath, because he shows signs of psychopathy such as lack of remorse, empathy or compassion. It is said that that kind of behavior might occur due to a misconnection between the ventromedial prefrontal cortex (vmPFC) and the amygdala. Considering the fact that Lucien’s parents were killed right in front of him and that he was both physically and psychologically abused for the coming years, this might have led him to experience an imbalance in his chemical balance. One might argue, that his altruistic actions in the orphanage are an evidence for his compassion, I think it is yet another disguise for his unethical ways of reaching his goals.

The Orchestrator

In all honesty no one is actively seeking alliances and keeps tabs on other’s actions for their agenda like Lucien does. Maybe Commander Leto but he mostly fails in drawing others to his side, because he is not able to speak in their pendants’ language or resonate with their perspective. Lucien, on the other hand, is gifted with an extraordinary ability to observe his surroundings and companions, making it very easy for him to talk to them in their terms and desires. Lucien doesn’t show much empathy, UNLESS, it contributes to his cause, in that case he can perfectly put himself in other’s shoes and plays them in such a meticulous way, that they join him willingly.

That is how Lucien directs MC successfully in entering the Black Cabin or in understanding the evolution core.

Lucien is not exactly a piece on a chess board, but is a player, who knows all the pieces very well, knows the rules of the game, has observed many games and took notes of how they all has turned out and therefore knows what kind of a game he is going to play. Just watch closely. how he co-operates with Kiro and the Black Queen. He knows that Kiro is using Black Swan for his goals, much like he does, so he uses his hacking abilities to access to information. The Black Queen is the initiator of everything in S1, so he makes sure to stay close to her. He knows that Victor is searching for MC and trying to understand the Evol gene, there he has an investor. 

The Cool, Calm and Collected Type

in the MLQC universe, everyone loses their composure at one point or another, because...who wouldn’t? Time and space warps constantly and people are also changing their stances depending on the time-space constellation they find themselves in. 

MC loses her cool almost on a daily basis, Gavin was in a constant haywire in the Daybreak era, Victor literally threw people into black holes in CH11 and freaked out as he saw the Black Queen for the first time and Kiro walks around in a bipolar state. So, everybody is pretty unstable due to understandable conditions but we never see Lucien lose his cool and this is one of his best qualities. 

Here is the thing about Lucien. This guy is always at least one step ahead of everyone and he achieves this by two simple rules: 

1) Acquire all possible information

2) Observe everyone and everything at all times

Why am I saying this? It lies in the basis of anxiety and angst. We humans tend to feel uncomfortable in the face of an uncertain situation, meaning in the wake of the unknown. MC is constantly anxious, because she doesn’t know what is going on, why is everyone after her, why is she blessed with the unconditional affection of 5 equally attractive men? (ehm, but not quite equally ehm *Gavin* hihi, sorry, Gavin-stan gotta Gavin-stan ^_^). Anyway you get the picture. Gavin went haywire in CH22 because he was pushed in a tight spot and therefore had angst. Same goes for Victor in CH11 his mind went blank as he saw history repeating itself and then in CH18 when he saw with his own eyes what could the girl of his dreams might become.

We don’t see Lucien in such deadlock situation though do we, and I think it is mainly because he is always prepared for every possibility and he can calculate them meticulously, because he possesses the largest chunk of information and also keeps tabs on everyone and everything that’s going on. So, when a crisis occurs he doesn’t freak out, sure he gets surprised at times, because the outcome of a a certain situation is the possibility, which he calculated to be no higher than 1% and yet there it is. But since he’s already took this into consideration, he has a plan. Combine this with his knowledge about the persons and organizations involved in the matter, then you have a calm Lucien, who is in control of the situation. Thus, he is calm. You can actually also bind this behavior of Lucien with that of a predator, whose movement are languid, is non-reactive and doesn’t mind turning his back to his opponents, since he doesn’t perceive them as a threat.

If this wasn’t enough, Lucien manages to joggle all of this without exposing himself. Even in the last stage of the play he never gets caught. Unless he willingly exposes himself, as in the case of revealing Ares to MC. MLQC actors can usually see through each other and use their weaknesses to meet their own ends. MC is obviously Gavin, Kiro and Victor’s weakness and their opponents can see this pretty easily. IT’s not quite the same with Lucien though and he doesn’t let himself be blackmailed or threatened by any weakness. He always keeps his cards close to his chest. 

Considering the fact that Lucin is the least outstanding LI, this is pretty impressive. So I guess this makes him the embodiment of the phrase “still waters run deep”.

The Renaissance Man

Lucien is a man of science and aesthetics. Explaining phenomenons with associations and loading them with philosophical substance. He doesn’t necessarily perceive things bluntly as they are, but interprets them in a meaningful way. The way he associates MC with a butterfly, how he wants to entrap her in ajar, so she wouldn’t get away, alas taking the only resource of color in his life away. Not only that, but he can also break down the matters at hand to its fragments and can therefore work his way up from there. He is blessed with a strong deduction ability, so he can connect the dots easily, come to a conclusion and act accordingly. No doubt that the other guys have very good deduction abilities, but because Lucien always has a bit of an information more than them, he can find the solutions just a little bit faster in my opinion. 

Reading is a necessity for his guy much like eating and drinking, Which is why we see him reframing events in the context of a certain story he’d read at some point in his life. With time, I will add here some of his quotes about certain situations to explain what I mean. Or even better, if you have some, that are evident in you opinion, you could add them in the comments. I really enjoy reading/hearing Lucien’s philosophical, scientific explanations to certain moments in MC’s life. They are always to the point and helpful.

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

So this is my very first analysis on Lucien and I have to admit, I still have  so many material to check on him, so if anything is missing please bear with me here :)

I was watching Joe’s Twitch while I wrote this, so there are many spelling, grammar mistakes, which will be corrected gradually.

This post will get better and better, scout promise!

[squarefriend]

Alrighty how about 14 with Mettaton and 9 with Toriel?

This is a long ass post, so buckle up buttercups >:)

So, if you really think about it, Mettaton IS a robot now. He fused with his body, considering he can die in Stabby Stabby/Nuetral routes. Robots can’t absorb alcohol, therefore they can’t get drunk.

Now, the argument could be made that he just absorbs the magic that makes up the drink then sends it to his power core, like an organic body. The that funky drunky flow intoxicates him.... But that also contradicts my personal head cannons on how Metta’s body works.

I’ll make this brief (if that’s possible in a post of this length lMAO), but how I think that MTT gets his power is either through electricity or, in a worst case scenario, gasoline mixed with magic. While I believe he can eat and drink monster food, it’s stored in an internal compartment before being broken down into manageable magic chunks over a series of several days. So, alcoholic beverages would give him at most a buzz over the course of like a couple of days.

That being said, there’s hope!!!

Remember when I said that I headcannon Metta runs on gasoline if he can’t get any electricity? Well, the means he can switch between which tank he’s drawing from. And, there is a type of gasoline made with a base of Ethanol! Which is the compound used to make drinks alcoholic! Therefore, the alcohol would be going to his core at the rate needed to actually get drunk.

Which means, if he wants to be drunk he can just switch into gasoline mode and slip into whatever tipsy needs he has! As long as he’s filled up on ethanol!

Now I’m not saying that this was found out by complete accident with Alphys testing out a new fuel type but.....

That’s exactly what I’m saying.

But!!! Yall didn’t come here to hear about Mettaton’s autonomy, so let’s talk about his drunken habits!!

I like to think he doesn’t drink often, mostly because of the aforementioned not actually realizing he could till he was on the surface. But, some of the best examples of how he is in a drunken state would probably be back when he was a ghost.

It was probably some rough times back then. Shyren’s sister had just fallen down, and it’s inplied the cousins are rather close with the family. Add in a healthy dose of dysphoria and yearning for a greater audience- no, purpose... It must’ve been rough for Metta.

Mabey to cope, the cousins invested in some ghost ale?

I like to think when buzzed, Mettaton is just a (somehow) more confident and showy version of himself. Just with less motor control and a higher chance of making impulsive decisions.

Once we pass into drunk territory... things start getting more emotional. There will be tears. Probably a lot of them. He’s very emotional and can and will state his mind. Heartfelt confessions might happen, rivalries may happen, or he may just tell you what you already know.

If the cousins cracked open a cold one.... Well.... That may of been the first indications (aside from behavior they’d picked up but not said anything about) of what was really on Metta’s mind. About how desperate he was.

Metta didn’t remember it in the morning. Blookie never told him what they talked about. It was never spoken of again.

Ok!! On a slightly higher note: Toriel!

I’ve always seen Toriel as having a very smooth sounding, mezzo soprano voice. It’s nothing remarkable. She doesn’t belt often, she doesn’t have much of a verbrato, she just sounds like your normal 50ish woman who sings abit too much in the car. But, her voice is warm and soft and perfect to fall asleep too, especially when a smile gets in the way of her vowels.

She sings fairly often, probably the most in the main cast (aside Mettaton and MABEY Papyrus). Be it in the car, or when she has too much to drink, or when singing a lullaby to her kids.

I’ll start with lullabies since I believe they’d be the most personal to her.

We don’t know exactly when the monster human war happened, but I’m of the belief that it happened sometime in the Middle Ages, which would place Toriel’s childhood in medieval times. While she wasn’t born there, I also think both Toriel and Asgore’s families hail from Ireland. Her mother would sing to her every night, sometimes mixing in ancient tales of wild beasts and faeries.

It’s a sentiment she’s passed down to her own children.

Albeit, she changed a few lyrics or scenes in the stories to make them less terrifying, besides when she was caring for some of the older souls. There may also be a touch more happy endings than there were in the older days, and mabey a couple more injuries instead of deaths. But for the most part, they stay the same.

The pieces she dare not change though, are the ones she sings in Gaelic.

Frisk hasn’t learned the language (yet), so Toriel finds no need to change any details to such relics. Plus, they have a lot more of an emotional connection than most of her other songs or stories. Her eldest two children were incredibly fond of them

(Also the song I used for these doodles is called Bó na leath-adhairce (One Horned Cow). The woman who sings it (Muireann Nic Amhlaoibh) sounds a lot like how I imagine Toriel sounding. But like. With a lot more vocal training. She still sounds like she’s singing through a smile and I love it)

On a much more fun note, let’s talk about Toriel’s drinking songs!

So, this doesn’t happen often, but if the moods right and Toriel’s had JUST enough to drink.... She might attempt to start up a drinking song with whatever crowd she’s got around her. She doesn’t know many songs, and she only half remembers the rest, but goddamn it if she’s not gonna try it.

It’s awful. Any recognizable lyrics are either slurred, butchered, or in a language no one else can understand.

But she looks like she’s having so much fun, no one ever tries to stop her.

Hell, some people might even join in, if there’s been enough to drink in the house. If that happens, and if she’s feeling confident enough, Tori might even get up and dance a little bit, dragging whomever she pleases in as well. If she’s drunk enough to start singing like this in public, then she’s definitely drunk enough to do some dances.

Mostly though, she just sticks to lullabies.

As for the second part of this prompt, it’s a lot simpler than all of the rest of this post. Toriel enjoys most music, especially the choral verity. She’ll let anything on the radio, so long as it’s appropriate when Frisk’s in the car.

Her favorite genres though, are Classical, Folk, and Celtic. They were the styles she grew up with and remains fond of to this day. They bring back a feeling of Nostalgia without too many memories, just how she likes it. She also quite enjoys Operas, and plans on taking Frisk to see one once she gets the hang of the internet.

She used to adore ballroom music and waltzes but....

Now they just bring back Memories she’d rather not have.

[jackedspicer]

a bio for my xiaolinsona! she’s a work in progress so i’m bound to come back and change it. trivia and more in depth information is under the readmore :)

continued trivia:

she’d show up somewhere near the start of season 4

she’s used a LOT for slapstick. in fact she’s mostly a comic relief character

she’s guided mainly by emotions, is right brain oriented, and is a hands-on learner

there is a running gag where she frequently has bandaids on her fingers, hands, arms, or anywhere really

she’s a massive funk junkie. LOVES disco. she’s also a great dancer

when she comes up with xiaolin showdowns, sometimes she’ll base it off of fun recreational activities or things that seem harmlessly mundane, like mini golf..... tic tac toe.....dance-off...... rock paper scissors..... the showdowns themselves obviously end up being high-stakes and lethal as they always are, except they’re based off of goofy premises

she’s probably musically accented by grunge that’s slightly funky

when it’s funny, she occasionally will use huge words or make jarringly philosophical statements, eg patrick star’s “the inner machinations of my mind are an enigma” cut to footage of milk spilling

shes a lot like charlie kelly. in general. any charlie moment is just. Her. she’s a wild card and screams every line and huffs glue and tries to get the honey out of a hornets nest outside of jacks house because she thinks hornets make honey and she likes ghouls and she genocides the rats in his basement and sleeps ass to ass with him and is illiterate

she likes to do arts and crafts but they almost always come out as abominations. she’ll occasionally borrow some of jack’s tools to construct her latest atrocity, and she’ll refer to them by a wrong/made up name while she’s at it. “the hacksaw duey”, “the electric hole puncher,” ”the automatic pizza cutter”, etc. yes the projects and the bandaids have a direct cause and effect relationship. please refer to this video (and this channel in general)

imagine her sitting at a table and just doing this in jack’s lair... this video alone can be used to sum up so much of her. the technique. the bandaids. the blatantly wrong information that’s said with such conviction. the dark turn towards the end of the video. “superfluous protrusion.” the way it ends

continued trivia pt. 2, taken from my instagram

(i’ll get into this more further down the post)

fighting style because this is xiaolin showdown:

she has a very nimble, disorienting style of combat. using pokemon stats as an analogy, her highest would be speed by far, followed by attack, with her lowest stats being defense and special attack. this combined with her unrelenting nature makes her an excellent distraction and a general nuisance, but she doesn’t fare well in prolonged head to head battle.

favorite shen gong wu: 

monkey staff, mikado arms, fancy feet, neptune helmet, hoduko mouse, woozy shooter (on herself), tongue of saiping, longi kite, indigo pyramid (on jack (cause it’s funny))

*the shen gong wu she’s most skilled with in battle are ones that trip up her opponents and cause status ailments. kinda like a prankster

backstory/analysis:

at her core, she’s a jolly, optimistic, humorous person, but her unruly, isolating childhood put a blow on her psyche. much like jack spicer, she’s been virtually alone her entire life - she was rejected by peers and adult figures alike since earliest childhood, and her home life was turbulent at best.

to ease the pain, at some point, she took on resenting and judging those around her as a means to cope. she has a holden caulfield-esque defense mechanism in play where if everybody sucks for this reason, or that reason, or those reasons, then she has justification for detaching herself from others, and she can derive her only source of self esteem from being better than them. this hurts far less than the devastating truth that she cannot connect with people on account of feeling so worthless and estranged from other human beings that she could never have the chance to be cared about by anyone. deep down, she’s in desperate, thrashing need of support and genuine human connection, and she has a warped perception of how she can achieve that.

she’s taken up evil as a hobby because it nurtures her desire to be destructive and, again, just like jack spicer, she engages in it as a way to feel seen. all press is good press, and the best way to make the headline is to cause some damage. what sets her apart from him in this regard, though, is that she takes all of her pain out on her enemies (in this case, the xiaolin monks) because she can’t stand how well off they are - instead, on the basis of their acceptance of one another, she sees them as goody two-shoes phonies who ought to be knocked down a peg. while evil to jack is both a means of getting much needed attention and a convoluted way of spending time with friends, to sid it’s a way to vent frustrations and a way to, well... still garner attention, but also spend time with a friend, except the friend is jack.

the other half of the reason she partakes in petty villainy is that it’s just... fun. she only got wrapped up in all this because she’d been restlessly putzing around somewhere remote, found a neat doohicky she planned on keeping, and when one thing led to another she wound up in a xiaolin showdown against jack. experiencing the chaos unfold revealed a golden opportunity she couldn’t pass up, so she asked jack to let her come with, debuting their partnership (i talk about this in further detail at the end of the post). goofing off and doing evil with him is so much fun to her! it makes her feel alive, a sensation and state of mind she never could fully achieve before.

noteworthy relationships:

jack: 

they have a team rocket thing going on. not in terms of their interpersonal dynamic, but rather their role in the story, how much of a threat they pose as, their schemes, and even their overall attitude are reminiscent of the iconic duo; they’re petty, recurring villains with hearts of gold who aren’t above occasionally siding with the good guys.

even though they both are on the same tier of comic relief and general foolishness, the metaphor i like to draw is that jack is the left brain and sid is the right brain.

their personalities have such chemistry and they’re both so goofy that they effortlessly sync up. everyone thinks it’s REALLY annoying

they’re best friends! they actually care very deeply for one another, even if they might have funny ways of showing it. they may be evil, but they’re mutually the only and closest friend the other has ever had, and with that carries a lot of weight. think of it - the first person you meet who hasn’t been nothing but awful to you likes you and wants to be around you. What a concept

while their relationship is platonic, there are several gags implying a romantic element, even though nothing is ever outright stated. kisses on the cheek, bashfulness, other characters making fun of them (“where’s your DUMB little girlfriend?” “..........she’s not DUMB!!!!!”), domestic references (“am i sleeping on the couch”)..... it’s left ambiguous because it’s hetbait plain and simple. somebody asks them what they even are and they say Partners In Crime wym. jack asks sid What Are We and she fist pumps the flat of her own chest twice, throws a peace sign and says We’re Bros

their nicknames for each other include but are not limited to “jackass, jacky-boy, jack-o-lantern, smarty pants, wiggles, spack jicer, spack, mr spack, spackle”, and “shortstack, pipsqueak, sid the kid, champ, funky monkey, foxy (in a funny way, he’ll say it like Whatcha Up To Foxy ? while she’s like making a mess doing an arts & crafts abomination or just vibing bein her weird lil self....  it comes from a place of playful sarcasm and affection) (champ, funky monkey, and foxy are courtesy of @currentlyfallingthroughspace)

to piggyback off of the left brain vs. right brain metaphor, “heart vs. brain is how they think, right brain vs. left brain is how they act, and two halves of a heart represents their natural dispositions” is how my aforementioned friend put it. they both have a lot of heart and are ooey gooey on the inside, but the difference is that sid can grasp the intricacies of emotional/psychological matters while jack can’t (actually knowing how to EXPRESS this is another topic). it’s in the same way that jack can effectively plan ahead, use logical reasoning, and know where to go and how to get there, but sid is shabby in this department. “one is aware but doesn’t address it until it’s too late, and one can’t see it and doesn’t ask until it’s too late.”  

another feature of potential conflict in all incarnations of them is the juxtaposition of sid actually being more down to earth than jack in the grand scheme of things. jack has the potential to go completely overboard, and whether or not he demonstrates the ability to catch himself on the event horizon will ascertain the outcome.

deep down, neither of them are truly evil, and they bring this out in each other as they ultimately contribute to the redemption of one another. how this actually happens is a lot rockier. sid has the intuition and self awareness to become increasingly cognizant of the fact that she engages in schemes as a way to bond with her friend, and, over time, she’s able to recognize that she’s simply been acting out, and she consequently softens up over time - but jack is much denser in this regard. he doesn’t consciously pick up on the same things she does and still believes that she’s drinking the koolaid as much as he is. the crucial dissonance in what matters most that had been incubating under the weight of things left unsaid emerges in a major falling out that challenges the nature of their entire dynamic and respective moral codes. i had a lot of help from the same friend with the following series of events and it’s really something that ought to be gone into detail on its own post, but a whirlwind brief summary is that jack becomes desperate from losing over and over so he comes up with this sinister plan that’s just too far, sid tells him to stop, they get into a nasty fight, sid leaves and makes it clear she’s not coming back, she goes to the xiaolin dragons for help, jack goes on an evil rampage but also loses his grip and has this mental breakdown because he lost the one person who’s ever cared about him (or so he thought), sid has the same brutal separation pangs but it doesn’t change the fact that jack is still doing what he’s doing, sid gets a firsthand view of a fight breaking out between the monks while she’s working with them and has a moment of clarity when she observes how they resolve it in such a healthy way, as they continue to work together and help her through the whole fiasco she realizes they’re not so bad, an entire excruciating series of events that’s genuinely too large to fit on this post unfolds and it ultimately ends with jack actually having to team UP with the good guys to stop what he started, and it ends with them breaking down, apologizing, and beginning their redemption BUT not without the illustration of several lessons that arose out of the complications of the entire thing...... the overarching lesson that’d been entrenched in their entire dynamic from the start, albeit corny, is that caring and being cared for was all they ever needed, and they learn to cultivate that within each other right under their own noses. it would be fun to have them stay as recurring villains forever, but seeing how much good is in their hearts is enough to make you wonder how they were ever evil.

xiaolin monks:

she thinks she hates them, but she doesn’t really. while her opinion of them is marked by resentment and distaste, she also holds them in high regard. a part of her wishes she could be friends with them, but the mental landscape she’s paved for herself doesn’t reveal that as an option. in her mind, she’s already been rejected by them. so why try?

the way she takes her pain out on them - people who had nothing to do with her traumas - can be summed up by the spinel su quote, “why do i want to hurt you so bad? i’m supposed to be a friend. i just want to be a friend.”

she gets chummier with them upon her redemption. out of the group, she gets along best with clay and dojo :) 

bonus origin episode

this would be the imaginary early season 4 episode i mentioned at the beginning of the post. it’s more of a loose string of ideas tied together with reckless abandon but hey. the episode would open with jack feeling lonely and down on his luck to establish the theme that he kinda needs a friend (”wuya’s gone, chase trained his cats to get surly with me if i show up, my evil dream team won’t answer my calls....”). his sulking is interrupted by a shen gong wu alert and he’s like. whatever. i don’t need them. i’m still gonna do this on my own. even if it’s. ˡᵒⁿᵉˡʸ. fastforward to the scene i described where sid is putzing around with her doohicky (which i’m considering might be the neptune helmet) all by her sad miserable lonesome when suddenly some flying bloke in a trenchcoat who looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in years shows up telling her she’s got something he needs. she of course responds with something along the lines of “you know what? why don’t you try to take it from me since you want it so bad, mr big stuff,” triggering a xiaolin showdown. this is around the time the xiaolin dragons show up too late - but they’re grateful for somebody having been there to fight jack in time, even if they have no idea who they are. she has no clue what’s going on, but whatever it is, she LOVES it. she goes buckwild. she has a time. jack, on the other hand.... well, understanding how badly he needs that wu is certainly throwing a wrench in it, but he can’t help but feel like he’s having a bit of fun too. well, up until he loses. post-showdown, the monks kinda count their chickens before they hatch so to speak and they rush over to this new kid with a shower of praise, thinking they have a friend on their side. instead, she cuts them off, shouts to the guy who’s gathering his bearings (or lack thereof) - “hey! jack was it?” - and playfully tosses her shen gong wu in the air, catching it. “you look like you need this thing way more than i do. tell you what! take me with and i’ll let you borrow it,” is what she follows it up with, implying she wasn’t really that invested and only saw the whole thing as a fun game. jack and the monks are flabbergasted. what’s more bizarre is she did in fact ask to join him, something nobody’s ever done out of their own volition before. she talks about how boooooooooooring it is here and how that was soooooo much fun and to pleeeeeeeease take her with. he’s really iffy about it and doesn’t know if it’s such a good idea. he tries to make himself look cool, telling her “as IF, shortstack..........im afraid The Jack Rides Alone................................................. but-” and ultimately buckling because he can’t deny that it would be nice to have someone around.

[hearthandhomemagick]

Food For Thought - Steven Universe

Hello there, I would like to tell you my story and journey with the amazingly beautiful, and wonderfully written TV Show...

Steven Universe.

I started watching this show when it first came out in High School. I mean, I was so excited to watch it that I anticipated the very first episode and sat down with snacks to observe it’s premier. I had become immediately enthralled not only with the art style, but also with the genuine wholesomeness and elucidations of processing emotions and life experiences. I was astounded that a kids show could express to me how to manage my emotions as well as connect with my moral standings. It’s a show I recommended to everyone, but often didn’t talk about because of it being a kids show, and me being almost being grown. It was my secret love until someone else brought it up.

This show stuck with me through the years, and helped me through some of my hardest moments in life. 

I remember watching the episode, “Mindful Education” and melting into Garnet’s lesson of mindfulness and self-awareness. I had been going through a lot at the end of 2016, graduating and going through a rough election along with having to move states for college. My opinions were forming in the extreme area and I had a fire to protect my thoughts and opinions with no restrain or any form of control of my emotional reality. I was rambunctious as much as I was head-strong and, at times, hard-headed all together. 

When this episode aired, I didn’t know why I loved Garnet and Stevonnie’s song, “Here Comes a Thought.” But I did, and it still carries with me into my life today. 

I want to discuss a specific time, though, that this episode saved my sanity and opened my eyes to a concept I didn’t understand when I first watched it. I was on social media, and was defending my opinions against quite a few people by myself. Eventually, I was getting nasty comments from a bunch of millennials telling me, 

“You’re too fucking stupid to understand, maybe you should go back to school, child.”

“You’re so emotional, and your emotions don’t matter here. Imagine being this dumb.”

“Imagine being a dumb bitch like Carly and saying you wanted to cut your penis off to look like a woman.” *NOTE I am not transgender, there is nothing wrong with being transgender and her insinuating such did not bother me. Her rhetoric insinuating trans was wrong is what irked me, this bitch was transphobic and had issues that she needs to repair in her own time. She wrote an entire post based around this context on her personal page using my real name, and she didn’t even know who I was.*

and my personal favorite, “Here’s the suicide hotline, I know your generation is prone to killing themselves and are overly emotional.”

Now, there were over 50, under 100, messages going back and forth where these people were just bullying me and I refused to back down. I wound up in a panic attack in my bedroom, literally wanting to kill myself because they were bullying me. The hotline would have come in handy if it were the actual hotline. I ended up going to my dad and older sister (my older sisters friend was the main one I was arguing with and her posy showed up on my post), because no one on the post was on my side.

Both told me, “If you can’t handle the heat, stay out of the kitchen.” My sister told her friend to stop, and threatened the other girl for her nasty posts and comments. My dad tried to mediate on the post itself, but the people wouldn’t stop. I eventually had to take it down.

My family didn’t calm me down in this moment. Not even a little bit. It felt like a back-handed helping hand. Like they wanted to protect me, but also somewhat agreed with the people on the post.

The only thing that calmed my nerves in this moment, ultimately, was the song, “Here Comes a Thought.” 

I sat in my room, sobbing, hoping to myself that it would make sense as to why it was okay for these things to happen. The song soothed over my nerves, eventually releasing my muscles and giving me a sense ease. I was able to process and realized a few personal things as well. I didn’t realize it, but before long, I was meditating to the song on repeat. I kept telling myself, “I’m okay, this is a thought. A moment. I am not my thoughts. I am not this moment.”

This was simply one of the ways Steven Universe has helped me process and understand myself more. I bring this up because I came across and article today that disappointed me to the core.

The Steven Universe Fandom has toxic tendencies.

I was shook.

How could a child’s show be turned into something so negative? Something that was meant to promote self-awareness, self-love, acceptance of character, and understanding of others had been morphed into a gatekeepers safe haven.

Now I know this isn’t the majority, and before you get offended, hurt or start defending yourself, I want you to ask yourself if what you are defending is an action you would defend from anyone else. If it is, by all means defend your ground.

But the one concept that eludes me, and offers zero substance in terms of valid arguments, is that men can not watch this show. Let me explain why men NEED to watch this fucking show.

My boyfriend watched this entire show, episode for episode, and benefitted from it. This show offered him coping techniques, an understanding of why love should come before war, and mediating every situation so you see and understand every perspective. These are things children shows didn’t offer him growing up, he has often and openly verbalized his need for this show in his childhood because of certain traumas, and we often continue watching it even after seeing every single episode and movie.

This show was never meant for one or two groups of people, and if you feel that way then refer back to the writers themselves who were literally trying to teach the lesson in the show over and over again to NEVER EXCLUDE PEOPLE FROM YOUR GROUP. You exclude people, and you create a division, a war of sorts. You immediately have become the thing Steven Universe advocated against in the first place.

This also leads into the whole “art” situation in the fandom. 

This show is anti-bully. There are commercials for it and everything. It is expressed in multiple episodes why bullying is never a good thing in any situation. 

You simply cannot justify the hypocrisy in bullying someone out of self-expression that literally harms no one. You can’t justify it.

Think about it. You draw or sketch a piece of art that took you hours, or even a few minutes. It’s your favorite character, and maybe you yourself are going through some mental thoughts regarding your weight that lead you to draw the character thinner or bigger. Size shouldn’t matter in any capacity when relating a character to ones self. 

If you’re skinny, you’re beautiful. If you are thick or curvy, you are beautiful. If you are obese or overweight, you are beautiful. Weight doesn’t matter, but representation of body types in different characters does matter.

Imagine a child falls in love with a bigger character, but is experiencing body challenges where she is being picked on for being too thin or scrawny (it happens, I’ve seen it with my nieces). Who are you to say that making her favorite character look like her own body is wrong? Especially if art is a coping mechanism they use for mental health reasons.

Like Malachite, a fusion that was devastating and abusive in every way, you are taking the choice and voice of an entire being to make your actions and opinions “right” or “okay”.

There is so much more I could say on this show, and so much more I could say about the fandom. And I know it is not the majority of the fandom, but I did want to make everyone in the fandom aware that we are human.

None of us are stoic and balanced like Garnet, and even Garnet had problems in her relationship. None of us are strong and laid back like Amethyst, and even she had self-love issues. None of us are as analytical and organized as Pearl, and yet she had problems throughout the series. 

None of you are perfect, and to act as if you are is defeating the purpose of a show trying to teach you how to be responsible for yourself and your actions. I’m not perfect either, and preaching about a fandom I’m not a huge part of sounds counter-intuitive, I’m aware.

But my nieces want to watch this show. My nephew watches this show with me. My boyfriend’s niece is going to start watching the show. 

Please do not make a toxic environment for kids who need this show to grow up. Kids who experience trauma, and learn from this show deserve a safe space without people trying to justify bullying or force them to think that because they are a boy or girl, they can or can’t watch the show. Without people making people feel bad for being themselves.

Why don’t we create a new space? A space where everyone is accepted as they are, and negative behavior is addressed the same way the gems or Steven would address them. With education, perception awareness, and PATIENCE. 

I know some will say, “It’s not my job to raise your child.” and “It’s not my responsibility to make people aware of their tendencies.”

You’re right. It’s also not your responsibility to bully people into changing themselves to fit your dialogue. Simply put, you’re responsible for yourself alone. But you have no right to complain on someone's behavior, art or experiences if you are not willing to be patient with correcting said behavior in yourself first.  

Who knows, maybe I’m in the wrong here for not knowing the full story. All I’m saying is, if you see someone being a bully, being mean or even being a hypocrite, call them out in the sweetest way possible. Let them know we are facilitating a safe space for people who need a community rather than a closed off club.

Be the change you want to see in this world.

Learn, grow and prosper. 

I wish you all well and genuinely hope we can all expand our perspectives to fully understand each other in healthier and more communicative based ways. We deserve that sort of kindness from each other.

[insomniacowl]

Neon Genesis Evangelion analysis chapter:17 Angels advance

Sakiel: The third angel

The year is 2015 and Sakiel, the first descendent of Adam/ Third angel appears. Due to the base structure of Eva’s storytelling being “Humanity’s struggle against the angels”, understanding the nature of the “Enemies” that are the angels is necessary for understanding this series. However, due to the proper explanation of the angels being abundant and clear (Which is rare for anything from Eva), this chapter will be used to explain set pieces that are important to the plot but not often talked about or glossed over.

Also, Due to Kaworu requiring a chapter of his own, this chapter will contain only the fourteen angels that failed in their Advances and were unable to infiltrate into central dogma.

Sakiel’s design in the planning phase of Evangelion. It resembles Unit – 00 much more

The third angel Sakiel is the Angel of water and shows the closest resemblance to Adam out of all the angels we see. The design of Sakiel has reminded many viewers of the plug suit as well, raising many questions about the nature of Angels. And due to it appearing cute when it blinks, many of the viewers have found it to have an adorable design.

And as we can see from the original design, the producers tried to allude to the fact of the “Angel of water concept”. When the design was changed, we can still see this allusion with Sakiel appearing from a body of water.

The fourth angel Shamshel

The fourth angel looks like a squid without most of its tentacles and arrived three weeks after Sakiel was defeated. It is the Angel of daylight, but we don’t see anything that alludes to this fact (Other than that it arrived during the day, but this is not unique to Shamshel)

But Shamshel was important to the plot as it provided the S2 engine that would be soon inserted into Unit – 04. We can see it being much more aggressive in its attack compared to Sakiel and the level of aggression makes the viewers question if it is trying to avenge its fallen predecessor. But in the end, it was repelled by Shinji who showed an even higher level of aggression.

The fifth angel Ramiel and its remains in episode 9

The angel of thunder Ramiel followed suit and along with Sakiel, were the only two angels that appeared for two episodes in a row and is one of the more memorable opponents in this series. Its movement creates harmonics that reminds one of a church choir and is shaped almost like an abstract art sculpture. All of this with the fact that it is easy to draw makes Ramiel one of the most popular Angels.

Many look to the similarities in design and posits that the design of Ramiel was modeled after Laputa, but the truth was already revealed by Anno himself. The design of Ramiel comes from a 1983 anime ‘Future police Urashimen’ and the mechanic from episode 47 is undoubtedly Ramiel.

Sixth angel Gagiel

The angel of fish, Gagiel was used for highlighting Asuka’s debut on the series and there is not much we can talk about.

Seventh angel Israphel 

The angel of music Israphel is unique in the sense it was able to split its body in two, serving as a proof of split-ability of souls in this universe. Its face(?) was shaped like a Yin-Yang before splitting.

Eighth angel Sandalphon

The angel of fetus Sandalphon was found in magma before it has hatched from its egg and the internal view showed it to be shaped like a fetus. Unit – 02 was chosen to undertake the mission of capturing it alive for experiments but was eliminated when this mission has failed. Sandalphon also plays a role in determining the Sex of the baby. This fact leads some to argue that the theme of this episode was “Sex”

Ninth angel Matarael

Perhaps it is really crying

The angel of rain Matarael perhaps tops the mediocrity of angels but also marks the end of the list of “easy” enemies that started with Gagiel. It looks like a spider and has an unexposed core but is the only angel that was eliminated using a rifle. The important thing of note in this episode is the Self-defence force referring to Matarael as the eighth angel, showing that Seele and Nerv are hiding the existence of Lilith. It is sometimes maddening that Anno believes this to be enough explanation.

Tenth angel Sahaquel

The angel of the sky Sahaquel appeared out of the sky just like its namesake. It is one of the angels that saw much change compared to the planning phase design, the toilet paper roll like arm of Zeruel was originally Sahaquel’s. This makes one wonder what the battle against it could actually have been.

Because Sahaquel’s attack involves a suicide attack using its whole body, it practically made the initiation of the Third impact impossible. This makes the investigation of its motives impossible and the “Angle that does not think” in the series development document might be referring to this one. However, there is an alternate theory that posits that Sahaquel was in a symbiotic relationship with Iroul and it is a possibility we can consider.

the AT field of the eleventh angel Iroul

The angel of terror Iroul took the form of bacteria sized micro machine and infiltrated Nerv through the means of hacking the system. Being the first and the last angel to attempt a non-physical method of attack, it was perhaps the most vulnerable moment for Nerv. And it is during this attack that Kaji was ‘Investigating’ central dogma.

We also see Gendou creating false reports regarding Iroul’s infiltration of Nerv arguing that this has never happened, telling the viewers of the fact that these two entities are not in complete agreement with each other. There is more to be said about this “lie” that Gendou told and will be covered in a future chapter.

The twelfth angel Leriel

The angel of nigh Leriel appears like a ball floating in the sky but this “ball” is later revealed to be a shadow and the “shadow” that was cast on the ground surface was the actual angel. But later interviews revealed that the floating ball was used only for the visual impact and was not the original idea of the twelfth angel’s appearance. The inside of the angel is the field called Dirac sea (it is different from the real-life theoretical model of the same name thus requiring no exploration into the field of theoretical physics). It was the first angel that showed interest in Humans and we also learn that Nerv hid this fact from Seele.

Shinji + Leliel?

According to Tsurumaki from the production staff, the ‘young Shinji’ that converse with our Shinji is actually Leliel. The original sequence of this conversation was Shinji talking directly to Leriel, the production staff decided that this did not convey the intention of the scene well enough thus they choose to depict it at a symbolic level, making the patterns on Leliel similar to the shirt young Shinji wore. It is sometimes maddening that even the production staffs believe this to be enough explanation.

Thirteenth angel Bardiel in its sticky mucus form

Fourteenth Angel Zeruel

Fifteenth Angel Arael

I am glossing over Bardiel and Zeruel as there is not much to talk about here.

The angel of birds Arael holds an extra meaning of “The god of light”, or “The vision of God” and is another angel that is true to its namesake. It is also another angel following Leliel that showed interest in human psychology.

Just like how Leliel appeared in Shinji’s mind in the form of his childhood, Arael did so for Asuka as well. Keep this in mind as we talk about the next angel.

The sixteenth angel Armisael

Armisael: I’ll give you a piece of my heart. How does it feel? Painful?

Rei: Painful? No… This is the feeling of loneliness

Armisael: I don’t understand

Rei: We are all together, but you are alone, and you don’t like that. That’s what it means to be lonely

The sixteenth angel ‘penetrates’ into Rei’s mind just like Leliel and Arael did for Shinji and Asuka respectively. Armisael tells Rei about the ‘pain’ it feels in its heart and is taught by Rei that this is called loneliness. Angels that exist as a unified entity did not have the concept of ‘Loneliness’ and learns of it through communication with Rei. Armisael then synchronizes it’s feeling with Rei and approaches Shinji in her form while creating the ‘Tower of angels ‘through Unit – 00.

The ‘Tower of angels’ Armisael creates

How it looks like. From the development document

The ‘Tower of angels’ is a structure shaped like the amalgamation of all angels that have appeared so far. This points to the possibility that Armisael knew of the appearance of all previous angels, posing the possibility of communication among angels in some way. Or the design could have come from the memories of angels that Rei held. 

Either way, Armisael learned of the concept of loneliness through Rei and the synchronization of its emotions and desire with Rei’s led it to attempt seducing Shinji and portray its desire of wanting to be with other angels. This is a very short sequence overshadowed by Rei’s self-sacrifice that soon followed but is used to portray that even the unified beings (angels) also suffer the concept of loneliness, making human’s ability to feel lonely to not be an inferior trait.

Armisael is the angel of the womb and the shape of Unit – 00 right before the self-detonation is like that of a pregnant woman. There is one more hidden symbolism to this, but it being integral to the characterization of Rei, I will mention it in her part chapter 27.

The face of an angel.

The seventeenth angel Tabris can be said to be Adam (‘s soul) thus we will talk about him in a later chapter (chapter 18). This chapter has given a broad description of the angels, next chapter, we will have a deeper dive into the nature of these angels.

 TBC Chapter 18 Angels, what are they?

[tsunflowers]

anime featuring adult women

there are a lot of great female characters in anime, but sometimes it feels like they’re all supporting characters in shows about men or they haven’t graduated high school yet. I wanted to compile a list of some anime with adult women front and center

kidou keisatsu patlabor on tv:

in the sci-fi future as imagined in 1988, human-piloted robots called labors are used regularly by all kinds of people, including criminals. to combat labor crime, the police develop a special unit of patrol labors—patlabor. instead of following the prestigious division one, we follow a cast of quirky characters in second-string division two, as they solve cases ranging from mundane to dangerous to paranormal

izumi noa, and why I love her:

she’s incredibly strong-willed and stubborn. she’ll stand up to anyone. she’s obsessed with labors, not just piloting them herself but repairing them and learning about new developments in the field. even though division two is primarily men and there is the “men at work” vibe of so much military and police fiction, noa fits in easily with the guys and no one excludes her. the few times people do question her skills bc of her gender, they’re immediately shut down

other women in the cast:

nagumo shinobu, the captain of division one. we never actually see her or her unit at work, but they have a great reputation. I just love her bc she’s very funny always shutting down the captain of division two and I like that in-universe there are women in leadership roles like this

kanuka clancy, a visiting cop from new york. her relationship with noa is very strong, definitely shippable. she’s adept with a gun, a sword, and a giant robot. she’s the serious member of the team who yells at the others for being dumb but there are still times where she goes completely off the rails and ignores the law to do what she knows is right

wotakoi: love is hard for otaku:

momose narumi is an office worker and a fujoshi. she wants to keep the fujoshi part a secret this time around because things went south for her at her last job once people found out she was an otaku, but it turns out several of her new coworkers are fellow nerds. most importantly, her game-loving childhood friend hirotaka works at the same company, and the two of them reconnect as friends… and soon more than friends. it’s a romance drama involving only nerds

momose narumi, and why I love her:

she’s a lot like your standard high school girl protagonist who runs out of the house because she’s late for school, but this time she’s late for work. she’s really funny and straightforward, except she thinks she has to hide that side of her at her job. she and hirotaka have a great childhood friends to lovers relationship. she’s kind of rude to him but he adores her (though he’s kind of bad at showing it). I love a cheerful girl/serious guy romance that’s done well and I think this one really is

other women in the cast:

koyanagi hanako, narumi’s new coworker who’s a fellow fujoshi. she’s also a cosplayer, specifically a crossplayer who specializes in cosplaying as handsome guys. she and narumi only met each other under their fandom nicknames before, but they were big fans of each other and hit it off instantly when they meet at work. they’re cute friends even if they always argue about who tops in their ships

psycho-pass:

in a futuristic society, people’s mental health is constantly measured by “psycho-pass” readings which track their emotional state and judge the likelihood that they will commit a crime. naive rookie cop tsunemori akane leads a team of enforcers, people who are considered “latent criminals” too dangerous to live in normal society but who are still useful to the police. akane develops a close relationship with enforcer kougami shinya in particular, but kougami has his own intense relationship with the elusive criminal makishima shogo. as the team of detectives investigate him, they uncover secrets about the system they never wanted to learn and their fates become entwined with makishima’s

psycho-pass is written by urobuchi gen (madoka magica, fate/zero) and if you’re familiar with him you know what to expect. the show is pretty grim and gory. content warnings for rape, violence, gore, body horror, police violence, the predatory lesbian trope, forced institutionalization, and probably a lot of other things I can’t remember. not a light watch, is what I’m saying

tsunemori akane, and why I love her:

she’s incredibly principled. she sticks to what she believes is right despite immense pressure. it’s precisely because she’s naive and doesn’t understand the system that she is able to fight against it. she grows a huge amount over the course of the series but she never loses her compassion or her sense of right and wrong. she’s pretty badass too

other women in the cast:

karanomori shion, a lab analyst at the public safety bureau. she’s your typical sexy and flirtatious anime character but I think her position within the setting is interesting. although she’s categorized as a “latent criminal” unfit for society, she seems to be valued more than the enforcers. she’s also bisexual and dating a woman, though she plays into the “bisexuals can’t settle down” trope a little. she is not actually the best character or peak representation but I’m pretty attached to her and a certain type of woman will be too

kunizuka yayoi, a lesbian former musician and the only female enforcer. she’s shion’s girlfriend. there is a predatory lesbian character in this series, but it’s not kunizuka. I think her being a lesbian is handled pretty well. she has romantic and sexual relationships with women that are important to her, but she doesn’t hate men or flirt with every woman she meets (traits I hate to see in lesbian characters written by men). she’s really serious and calm but still cute and I love to see her growing respect for akane over the course of the show

death parade:

two people wake up in a strange bar with no memory of how they got there. a mysterious man with white hair named decim and his assistant, a woman known only as “the black haired woman,” ask them to play a game. the games are both absurd and dangerous, and as the contestants play them dark sides of themselves are revealed. decim’s job is to judge them based on their behavior while playing the games, but the black haired woman’s influence causes him to wonder if he’s doing the right thing

like it says in the title, the anime deals with the topic of death, and death by suicide comes up as well. I don’t remember everyone’s backstories but I think violence and abuse come up several times. there are also mannequins that move around on marionette strings which is kind of freaky

the black haired woman, and why I love her:

it might be wrong to say that she’s the main character when she isn’t introduced until the end of the first episode and her name isn’t revealed for half the show but listen. she’s the emotional core of the show and the person who sets the events in motion. she’s a very emotional person and that’s her strength. her relationship with decim is the classic “woman teaches cold-hearted man to feel” trope but I think it’s an outstanding example bc it centers her emotional experience and the two of them are not explicitly in a romantic relationship. I’ve been trying to avoid spoilers but for her it’s almost unavoidable. I love the way that her story is slowly revealed over the course of the show culminating in an incredible sequence in episode 11. I think her depression is handled so well too. it’s heartbreaking

other women in the cast:

nona, the boss of the arbiters. she’s a schemer who knows a whole lot of things she’s keeping from everyone else. I really like her outfit above all else. baggy pants with suspenders… a great look

mayu, a high school girl who is a contestant in one of the games. she tries to be cutesy but is prone to anger and makes incredible faces. I like that she’s an obsessive fangirl character who’s played for humor but is also shown as being noble and sympathetic

sakura quest:

koharu yoshino is a woman who moved to tokyo to find a job but has no luck. when she finally gets a job offer, it’s to become “queen for a day” of rural manoyama village. upon arriving in manoyama, she learns that she was only hired because they thought she was someone else but they still want her to work there for an entire year. now she lives in a small town and is tasked with both revitalizing the citizens and drawing tourists in, along with the help of four friends. it may not sound funny and heartwarming but it really is. it’s a good story about connecting and reconnecting and also the head of the tourism board wears a chupacabra mask sometimes

the main characters, and why I love them:

koharu yoshino, queen of manoyama. her struggle in the job market is unfortunately relatable to many people today and I love that she wishes she could have a job as a queen. she’s great and she really comes to love the town despite everything

shiori shinomiya, a very sweet manoyama native. she’s almost too nice but it makes it all the funnier when she gets intense

maki midorikawa, an aspiring actor who is famous among manoyama citizens for a small role she played in the past. she’s serious about acting but her family wishes she would get a more stable job. she can be kind of rude but she does love her friends and her town

sanae kouzuki, a web developer who moved to manoyama to escape the intensity of city life and the negative effects it had on her mental health. the problem is she hates rural life and is afraid of bugs but is too proud to admit it on her blog. the only true city girl among the five

ririko oribe, my favorite of the five. she’s shy but loves cryptids and the occult. it’s very easy to read her as autistic and the other characters affirm her interests and behavior. her love of cryptids even helps the town out when Spanish tourists come in search of a local legend. her relationship with her grandma is really good as well, with the two coming to understand and love each other over the course of the show

[dungeons-and-divination]

HORIZON WALKER RANGER  - Wildhunt SHIFTER - Sage (Researcher)

Never built a Shifter before, but I play a weretiger in my main campaign, so I enjoyed this quite a lot. I think it shows. I ended up with a lot more details than I usually cram into these posts. I mainly try to leave enough space for DMs and players alike to build up on the general idea I came up with. This time... Inspiration hit me hard and I couldn’t help myself. Hope you enjoy.

Name: Ichor (likes the nickname Corey better) (18yo)

TAROTS

Mind: Justice (upright) Truth and integrity as the core of an horizon walker’s mind are perfectly okay with me, honestly. It really tells me that Corey is a person that strives to reach a balance into things, that he knows every action has its consequences. I can see them as someone that is perfectly aware of how they can change the world just by existing and making decisions, so they try to weigh their actions because of it. But they also enjoy watching the ripples that every drop in the water causes. So they dislike inaction too. Why stay still when you can do something and be part of the reason for the world to move and change, just to settle and come back to a new balance?

Body: Two of swords (upright) I mean, a tarot about being torn between two people or in general this feeling of disconnection on his body? Of course I could just stop at the obvious issues Ichor could have with being a shifter. But why stop with something as obvious as emotional denial, when there’s an underside of something more? I had to draw a card to try and clear this up. And the Three of swords reversed confirmed there was more. Corey is actually in emotional denial about something deeper, but he’s slowly getting over it. Still, this doesn’t get rid of that “something” that hurt him in the past and Ichor tries to bury it more often than not. So, I would say that this disconnection to his body is more in tune to this denial.

Spirit: the High Priestess (upright) Most of all, I would say this expresses his thirst for knowledge, that’s for sure. But I’m not surprised by that hint of mystery and sensuality that comes from Corey himself. Despite how socially awkward he is, I can picture him being unknowingly charming. Which is probably why he doesn’t trust people that try to be very direct in showing romantic interest. Well, I suppose he can be considered charming at least to people that are into dark, mysterious, dorky nerds with enormous trust issues. I know that the broody types always attract some people's attention.

Past: Strength (reversed) After what that “body” had already given me, this was pretty much a given. Low self-esteem in Corey’s past is a constant. He felt weak and vulnerable, that was the main reason why he stayed stuck in his research for so long (and kinda confirmed my feeling that he wasn’t one of the most thought of predators). He probably had a deep desire to actually get to work in his field, but the biggest obstacle to reach for that dream was his own sense of inadequacy (someone like him in a scholarly role might have been teased just for that after all). Deep down, he knew he could make a difference though, because every decision has a consequence, even a lack of action. And he hated when people couldn’t make a decision SO MUCH!

Present: Page of cups (reversed) And here comes back that heartbreak, that emotional vulnerability… With the horrible twist of sexual abuse earlier in his life still there to haunt him. Definitely, the emotional denial from his body as well as his issues with trust are a lot deeper and serious than what I thought at first. Oh, Ichor for sure had some terrible experiences. But he realized that he was in a bad situation, that he’d been manipulated, used by someone older than him just cause he was young and naive. And he decided to get away from it all. The emotional trauma though? That still lingers and weights him down so much that he’s very closed off. I don’t exclude him actually pretending (very badly) like he’s way more confident than he is, in certain situations. Like a copying mechanism to try and hide his insecurities so people won’t use them against him again.

Future: the Hierophant (reversed) Well, with Corey this can go in both the direction hinted at by the tarot. He could absolutely challenge the traditions of the institution he belongs to and that he’s supposed to still answer to. Or he could cling to their traditions in a hope to change how corrupt and twisted things got from the very inside despite how it could break him to go back and be face to face with his abuser. I can’t necessarily give a suggestion in this case; it really depends on how things develop and which way you feel like he would lean towards (even with the party’s support). Either way, not surprised that a decision is at the core of his future. 

FULL BACKSTORY

Ichor was born in a cave in the Beastlands plane. His mother, Shianead, was on a mission for the institution she worked for to research more information on how were-creatures lived when organized in packs like that. She actually fell in love while she was in the middle of that mission with Ichor’s father, Purrenbor. As soon as Ichor was born, Shianead realized she could no longer stay in the Beastlands plane and decided to leave. Purrenbor tried to leave with her, but his tribe didn’t like them leaving with the child; Purrenbor gave his life so that both Shianead and Ichor could run away. Once they were back, the institution wasn’t necessarily happy that Shianead took more than a year for a mission that was supposed to be just 6 weeks long. They were disappointed in her, but once she promised that her shifter son would stay to be part of the institution as well and convinced them that in some way his nature as a shifter could be helpful in understanding better the potential benefits of the were-curse, they agreed to let her stay. Ichor didn’t necessarily have a happy and loving childhood. His mother was more often than not away for more research missions and he was left in the care of a very strict teacher, Clirji Brawen, a dragonborn that made him study for long hours instead of letting Corey run around with the other students of the institution’s preparatory schools. He still was grateful to be considered so bright to have Clirji’s attention, since he was considered one of the best teachers of the school (the one that usually worked with realy talented people). Corey was even allowed to live in Clirji's very luxurious house when his mother was away, instead of staying alone in the dingy apartment that belonged to her. When Corey was about fifteen, his mother had to go on a longer than usual mission that she was even more tight lipped than usual on the details of. Clirji had recently retired from teaching and was mainly just a consultant for the institution, and Corey could no longer stay at his house since he was no longer Corey’s teacher. It was decided from the institution’s schools’ council that he would stay in Norvhila Erishai’s estate. She was the very charismatic head of the research department of the higher level school, and she was hoping not only to find new branches of research for the main institution to focus on with her students, but to find students with a new, bolder attitude. Norvhila was immediately impressed with Ichor, not only for his knowledge reached under Clirji’s guidance, but also for his willingness to try new things before finding once again the balance at the core of the institution’s beliefs. Still young, very impressionable, awkward and mostly a pariah with students of his age, Ichor never realized that Norvhila fascination with him, and her consequent attentions of sexual nature, were very much inappropriate. Ichor felt flattered, and mostly thought he was bound to allow her to do whatever she wanted with him by duty and gratitude since he was living in her house and she was teaching him so much (or so she manipulated him to believe). It took Ichor having a revealing conversation with Clirji when he was almost 18 to realize that he’d been stuck in an abusive relationship all along. Also, Norvhila had been hiding to him that his mother had been considered missing in action for months, because nobody heard from Shianead since her last report from wherever she was for her mission. Ichor found out, when inquiring about his mother’s mission, that Norvhila wasn’t the only person in the institution that was doing morally twisted things that somehow they still considered “part of the balance of the world”. In a last ditch effort to get free of Norvhila’s manipulations, Corey asked the institution’s schools’ council to go on a mission to find what happened to his mother and to consider that his “graduation mission”, a test that every student had to pass to prove that tey were ready to become a fullfledged member. Unexpectedly (and probably with a big push from Clirji), the council allowed him to leave. Corey somehow still believed the institution could do some good, if he just got rid of the “twisted people”. He just find a way to actually make the right decision that would ripple the waters enough for that change to happen. And he had a feeling that finding his mother was just the first step in a much longer path.

(As a note, extra info. I think this could be more for a DM than a player but still relevant for both, especially the part about Clirji that could be considered a little bit of the conversation that cleared Corey’s mind on how things worked inside the institution. Corey is still convinced that, at the core, the institution was doing good [it’s something he always thought]. But, the what the institution truly does in my mind is gathering knowledge to use it as a merchandise for trade; they don’t really care to whom they give it, if the purpose is to maintain a balance. They think, since they gather the most knowledgeable and smart people in the world, that they have the power to pick and choose who and what will tip the scale so that the universe won’t be destroyed. But mostly, they are the reason why wars start and end by manipulating other people so that they could get richer by selling their information to both sides [too much power corrupts and all that shit, you know...]. Clirji, despite being aware of the problem, stayed in the institution as a teacher to try and help the students, to warn them if he could, help them get out of that life too if possible, or scare them away with his harsh attitude if that was the only way that worked. Because he felt like he had no other way to break that machine that made him too other than trying to take away the best minds from them. In a sense, Clirji also tried as much as possible to keep the schools and the institution proper to be very distinct and separate, but it was very difficult since he was one of the few people that was fighting against the system from the inside [and teachers were mostly members of the institution too, it was rare to have outsiders as such important staff figures that could shape the students minds]. When Clirji tried to become headmaster of the higher level school, for example, everyone looking in as an outsider would have picked Clirji since he was so accomplished as a teacher. But the council knew by that point that he was against what the institution truly had become, so they just made him retire, telling him he was too old even to be a teacher. And they obviously picked someone that would fit them better and would turn a blind eye on behaviors like Norvhila’s.)

SUGGESTION CORNER

Suggested features Ability scores: High Wisdom and Dexterity (try to keep as high as possible Intelligence too), Low Charisma Skill proficiencies: Investigation, Insight, Perception Others: I had to really think which animal would fit for him as his bestial appearance. At the end of the day, I feel any bird of prey would fit him very well: a classic eagle, a nice hawk or even a raven would be wonderful. If you want to go for something more “classic but still different”, a fox could be a nice pick as well considering his backstory.

Suggested Characteristics Trait: I’m willing to listen to every side of an argument before I make my own judgement. Ideal: The world needs to be constantly in balance. But to keep it that way sometimes you need to act, be bold instead of keeping still. Bond: I want to unveil the corruption that’s hiding inside the institution that made me love knowledge so much. Flaw: After a shift, I behave more animalistic than usual for a little time. It unnerves me to no end when people get to see that wild side. (This depends on the animal you pick but it could be mimicking for a crow, pouncing like a fox, little thing like that, easy to roleplay and remember but that can really bring funny moment in a session too. Have fun with it!).

[fandom-queenliness]

In the Miracle Box

Plagg and Tikki make an enterance, and neither are very happy. 

Also, Happy Fanfiction Writer’s Appreciation day everybody!!!

@nottesilhouette thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for encouraging me to actually write this, and also to sleep. This chapter would not have happened without you.

Again, crying over the line break.

@Tumblrstaff where is my line break??? where is it!!!! I need it!!!!!

Being dormant, being in the miracle box, is normally warm; a sweet, safe feeling. It feels like home.

Tikki, though she misses her dear little Marinette, enjoys resting after all the time she spent being run ragged. After the horror of Hawkmoth, being surrounded by her family is peaceful, even as she eagerly waits for the day when Emma and Hugo are old enough for her to return.

She would be the first to admit, it hurt her heart when she realised that when Emma started speaking, it was no longer safe for her and Plagg to stay active. Emma had been tittering carelessly in that childish way to a stranger about the “flying bug and cat mama and papa love so much, mama calls them kwamas”. Marinette had barely managed to avoid an identity reveal. After much discussion, the four of them decided that the two would join the other kwamis for a time, and Tikki was willing to wait.

After all, Tikki saw them on special occasions, such as birthdays and holidays and any excuse Marinette could justify.  She had been there, waiting patiently to see Hugo for the first time. She and Plagg had cried and then cried again when they had to go dormant again a week later.

There was nothing left to do but wait, so she basked in the warmth of safety, day after day until time began to fade, happy and carefree, with Plagg by her side, as it was meant to be. There was peace.

Until she felt a chill.

She had been dozing, dreaming of the days when Marinette was younger, of the better times, before boys and babies and businesses. She had been happy, until a feeling of cold wakes her up, shocking her awake. It settles over her, freezing and cutting through her physical form.

In the heart of the miracle box, she is chilled to the core. It feels like the precursor to something, a warning of sorts.

It gets worse, creeping closer and closer to painful, until it disappears altogether, and another sensation overtakes her.

Tikki gasps, pressing a hand to her chest. There is a ghost of a feeling—as if something is breaking.

Something like a heart.

“What?” she murmurs, and Fluff looks up from beside her, eyes wide in realisation.

“Today, today, today,” Fluff says. “Hearts and crackers and punches. Today, today, today.”

In all their existence, Fluff’s knowledge of the future has rarely scared Tikki. But now, when she feels a glimmer of Marinette amidst the pain, fear takes hold.

Fluff keeps muttering. “Cats in the cradle, cradles from the closet—new old new old new old, Lady Luck loves unluckily.” Fluff fixed Tikki with a wide eyes stare. “Black bad cats, their time ran out, yesterday comes today, time, time, time, time…” Fluff looked off somewhere to the distance, voice low and rapid.

Concerned, Tikki starts, “Fluff, what are you—”

She’s cut off when she feels a stab of pain through her bond with Marinette, cutting off her voice. It burned, like the fire that could never harm her, like the freezer burn she could never have.

 It hurt, and it came from Marinette.

Cautiously, Tikki opened the bond, worry driving her to just take a peek, to just calm her mind—

Within a second, she sees a thousand images: A TV screen, Adrien in front of a crowd of microphones. Little Emma, sitting amongst pillows, confused. Hugo, crawling across a bed, expression upset. A pale hand throwing a wedding ring, then scrambling to pick it up.

Then less recent images, across months and years that she had missed. Of weeks ticked off on a calendar, to a distant day when Adrien would return home. Of a clock face late at night when he slips in. Of his eyes, passing over her at a party. Of a thousand warning signs, that she had missed, that they had missed.

The wholes tory comes out, in brutally efficient flashes, giving her all the information she needed.

‘He has betrayed me.’ Marinette’s thoughts pass through the bond and then sink into Tikki like weights.  

At last, Marinette’s pain passes from Tikki, and her own emotions are left, clear and concise and ancient.

For the first time in years, Tikki feels rage, and the aching, horrible pain of knowing her chosen has been betrayed. Worse than Lila’s reign, worse than a childhood betrayal. This was criminal.

She screams, and it shakes the miracle box, drawing eyes to her, but she can’t find it in herself to care.

Marinette was hurting, and Tikki wasn’t there to help her. She was trapped, far away from her chosen and the one who betrayed her.  

“Time to go,” Fluff whispers, then flies off, where Sass is watching warily.

Plagg zips over to her, concern in his eyes. The others float closer nervously. Fluff stays back, muttering and fidgeting.

“Sugar cube?” Plagg says, acid eyes taking her in warily. “What happened?”

Ignorance, Tikki thinks, he allowed this.

“What happened?” She hisses, glaring with all her anger. “What happened is that Marinette has been betrayed.”

There are gasps from the assembled kwamis. Lady Luck? Who would dare harm the Ladybug?

“Who?” Plagg asks, but there is a weariness in him that tells her he must suspect.

She grounds out his name, spitting it at Plagg. “Adrien.”

Plagg presses a paw to his chest, and his face twists. She knows that he is reaching through the bond, seeking out what Adrien has done.

He gasps, and tears well up in his eyes. Her other half looks betrayed, hurt, enraged and broken all at once.

“How could he—I knew he was careless but this—" Plagg closed his eyes firmly. “I should have known.”

“Yes,” she snaps. “You should have. He was your chosen, your responsibility, and now—” she sobs, voice breaking.

“Tikki,” Wayzz tries, but she can’t hear over her pain.

“Marinette is broken,” she cries, crying it out for all to hear. “She is broken, and it is his fault, he has hurt her. Betrayed by her husband, but herpartner.”

“The Black Cat, the Cat destroyed the Ladybug, ding ring wedding bells, kittens and bugs and lies and hugs,” Fluff recites, confirming Tikki’s words.

The other kwamis murmur, and then Wayzz starts herding them away from her and Plagg, and they float to some distant part of the miracle box.

She didn’t care, she didn’t care, not when her little bug was in pain.

She turns to shove Plagg. “This is your fault!”

He curls in on himself. “I—I didn’t—”

“You let him get away with everything! He made so many mistakes, but you never said anything, and I—I allowed it.” Tikki screws her eyes up, all the noise in her head, all the pain from Marinette was so loud. She couldn’t think clearly through all the red. “Every time he made a mistake, you did nothing, and now he has hurt Marinette. Marinette, who has been with him through everything. He BETRAYED HER.”

“I’M SORRY,” Plagg yells, tears falling, his voice hoarse. “I’M SORRY I HURT MARINETTE, I’M SORRY I LET HIM BECOME THIS, AND I’M SORRY I—” he chokes up.

He hangs his head, voice small.

“I’m sorry I destroy everything.”

Abruptly, she remembers, without thought or warning, all the times he cried after one of his chosens were killed.

She remembers the aftermath of all the times he was taken like Nooroo and used for evil.

She remembers when he came to her, crying, seeing the death and destruction he had caused, his powers, his fault.

She remembers all the chosens he lost, all the ones corrupted, all the ones who turned bitter and evil and cruel.

She remembers a night, a million or so years ago, when he told her just how much he despised himself, how he broke everything he loved and touched.

She also remembers the pride in his voice when he spoke of Adrien, but also the way his face crumbled when the boy was particularly oblivious. She remembers how he loved his chosen and realises that maybe Plagg loved Adrien enough to let himself be blinded.

Her anger cools, and she feels guilt. Plagg was hurting too. Adrien was his kit, Plagg saw him grow and change, and to see one you loved to hurt another so dear—Tikki knew first hand that it hurt. Her past Ladybugs had not been immune to mistakes, and Tikki—she needed to remember Plagg wasn’t the one at fault.

Adrien was. Plagg and Tikki and Fu may not have taught him to behave like a proper superhero, but he had the others to look for as examples, and he should have known not to cheat.

He did know, and he did it anyway.

Plagg and Marinette were both hurting, betrayed and lied to and blinded by one the loved. And yes, Plagg had a hand in the blame, but no more than Nino and Chloe and all the others. They all had a hand in it, after seeing his faults and brushing over them, and they all had to realise that as much as they were guilty of ignorance, Adrien was the real villain in all of this.

“This… this is my fault too,” she admits, and Plagg looks up at her through teary eyes. “I encouraged Marinette to pursue him, even though I knew the more—questionable things he did. I’m as much at fault as you are.”

“He—” Plagg chokes up, eyes big and wide. “He seemed so kind. Where did I—what did I do?”

“Oh, Plagg,” she says softly, “you didn’t go wrong. He did.”

She hugs him, wrapping every part of her energy around his body, doing her best to say without saying she didn’t blame him, she didn’t hate him. He melts into her, and she feels his ache like a physical thing.

As she holds her other half, Marinette’s thoughts well up, and Tikki allows them in, shutting her eyes tight as she accepts that her chosen and her partner were in pain.

“Sixteen months… an affair…but I thought he—he said he loved me! Oh god oh god… the children… he said in loved me, how could he do this?!

I thought he loved me.”

Marinette’s thoughts are heartbroken, helpless.

Plagg’s are no easier, wild and twisting and pained.

“I will never forgive him,” Tikki vows quietly, just loud enough for Plagg to hear.

“I know,” he replies, twisting his eyes away from her.

I won’t either, though it hurts, hangs unsaid between them.

[seriouslyhooked]

Lost Souls and Reveries (Part 25)

25 part AU written for @cssns​. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,Part 6,Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24. Story available on AO3 Here and FF Here. Banner created by the amazingly talented @shipsxahoy​!!

Killian Jones is a wolf shifter without roots, without plans, and without a pack. He’s a rogue, someone humans should avoid and shifters should be wary of given his lineage. But one night years back set him on a path he didn’t realize he was taking, a path leading to a future he is destined for. That future is tied up in one woman – a human named Emma Nolan. Together Emma and Killian will find not only answers, but a love that’s truly fated. But will love be enough to set them free, or will past demons win out in the end? (Answer: love always wins – I am writing this so despite some tiny pockets of angst it’s basically a fluff-filled insta-love fest). Rated M.

A/N: Hello everyone! So as promised, I have left the drama and the angst behind us and for this chapter. Instead of lingering in anxiety, I am just giving us all some much-deserved wedding cuteness and (because so many of you asked) a little wedding night smut. This has been the longest story I have ever written, and WOW does it feel like time to write a wedding. As such, I will delay no longer. Hope you enjoy, and thanks so much for reading!

All this time I kept saying the details didn’t matter, but now I know they really do.

Emma didn’t utter those words aloud, but she held them close with her as she went about getting ready for this long-awaited moment. The thought had been floating in and out of her mind all day, like when she woke to her favorite childhood breakfast of cereal and pop-tarts, or when she first got a look at her bouquet. The arrangement of flowers was immaculate and lush, with ivory petals and little pops of color thrown in, and it matched the tasteful flowers she was wearing in her hair, and the ones her bridesmaids donned for the ceremony and reception. Everything was so in sync, woven together with ease and with grace, but none of it was accidental. This was all a reflection of the hard work of people who loved her, and reminiscent of dreams she never realized that she had.

Looking at her hands, Emma noted her engagement ring, a glimmering stone gifted with love and fidelity. Killian had asked her for forever in a way he hadn’t planned, but it was perfect, and the only thing missing was a wedding band to complete the set. Today that second ring would come, and Emma would keep them close and safe as long as she lived. Other unexpected gifts had been coming in all day too, starting in the morning and leading up to now. Little things and big things, thoughtful notes and precious keepsakes. All of it was wrapped in love, and every time one found its way to her, Emma craved their wedding more. It was so damn hard waiting, but she grounded herself in how lucky she was to have this. After all, she’d gotten her most powerful wish - laughter, love, excitement, and joy. These were the ingredients of her wedding day so far, and Emma knew they would be the same pieces that defined her life from now until forever.

“Okay, honey, it’s time to get your dress on. Are you sure you don’t need help?” her mother asked, pulling Emma from her reverie as she gazed into the mirror. Emma shook her head and stood up, careful to keep her robe closed as she did.

“I’ve got it, Mom. It’ll only take a minute.”

Retrieving her dress from her mother’s arms, Emma moved behind the screen to get dressed, trying to soak up this moment despite how breakneck the pace of her day had been. It had been nonstop since the morning, when Emma woke up in her old bed in the apartment above the clinic. She hadn’t slept so well, being unused to a night without Killian, but she’d had company. Anna and Elsa were adamant that they would all spend this night together, three sisters having a final hurrah. They’d invited Ruby too, an honorary member of their special little tribe, and her final ‘night of freedom’ was spent watching cheesy rom coms, eating way more than they should have, and drinking more than a little wine. At first her mother resisted on the idea, insisting that a bride-to-be needed her beauty sleep, but, as was their custom, Elsa and Anna found a way to win her over. Emma was glad for it too, because despite missing Killian, she’d had a blast, and that good humor had carried all through today as the lot of them got pampered and prepared.

Even now, as she slipped into her dress, Emma couldn’t help her smile. There was no mirror back here, but she knew how good she looked. Her hair was glossy and shone brighter than it ever did when she did it on her own. Her makeup was flawless, highlighting her natural features with a little bit of pop. Add to that that she was radiating happiness and she knew she was beautiful, but that wasn’t enough for her. Underneath her robe she’d chosen a white lace set designed to drive her husband more than a little wild, as if he needed any reason to get that way. The barely there lingerie left little to the imagination, and she warmed through just imagining how Killian would react. It was thrilling to think about, but that desire was tamped down slightly by her awe at the dress itself. An incredible gift from her mother, this dress had been passed down from her grandmother originally. Each wedding it had seen saw some alterations, but never enough to undermine the beauty of the gown. As such, the garment was in wonderful shape, and Emma’s smile grew when she thought about one day sharing this treasured dress with her daughter too.

As she’d promised, dressing didn’t take long at all and soon enough she moved from behind the partition into full view again. She saw everyone looking at her, but was drawn to her own reflection. Stunning was the only word that she could think of, and even that choice reminded her of Killian, but it was right. It was truly a lose-your-breath moment seeing herself like this, and all the emotion at this impending union bubbled to the surface as it suddenly became all the more real.

“My cousin is seriously going to lose it when he sees you, Emma,” Ruby said with a tone of glee.

Emma looked over to Ruby, who appeared thrilled at Killian’s potential reaction, and Emma, though quieter in her hope, was dreaming of the same. She knew the figure that she made for in this dress. It might be an heirloom, but it was tailored in a way that was uniquely her. The dress was a delicate cream color with a perfect blend of silk and lace. It was still classic, but also current, and though it had been made for another, it felt designed with only Emma in mind. It fit every curve of her body, accentuating her shape while still feeling very free, and that was compounded by the fact that she’d ditched the veil and gone for flowers in her golden curls instead. Looking back at herself she felt beautiful and whole, though much of that had more to do with who she was marrying and less to do with what she was wearing.

“You’re gorgeous, Ems,” Anna agreed, tending to the dress and making sure every last detail was in place. “A true princess.”

“No, better than a princess,” Elsa countered, smiling at Emma in the mirror as she hugged her from the side. “Better because you’re you.”

“You guys need to stop,” Emma said, but there was no real bite in her voice. “You’re going to make me cry and I am not crying today.”

“Oh, Emma, I think that ship has sailed, don’t you?” Elsa asked, gesturing behind them, and the four of them looked back to where Emma’s mother and grandmother were both wiping away their happy tears.

“It’s just like I always imagined,” her mother said, the weepiness seeping through her voice and threatening to make Emma cry as well. “You’re so beautiful, Emma.”

“Mom,” Emma said, and as her mother came over to her, her friends made space for them to share this special moment.

“I know you’ll say that I’m too sappy, but I can’t help it Emma. You are my baby,” she said, her hand coming to Emma’s cheek as she smiled at her. “Your father is my heart, but you and your brother are my whole entire soul. I love you so much. I’ve loved you your whole life and even before, and it’s like I blinked and we were here. All those years are gone so quick. You’re so grown up and I’m just…” her voice cut off as she cried a bit, but she rallied. “I’m so proud to be your Mom and I’m so lucky to have a daughter whose so brilliant and so sure. You are amazing, Emma. My brave and beautiful little girl.”

“I love you, Mom,” Emma whispered, unable to say more, but knowing her mother understood her. She felt the same luck and joy at having her mother and her father. They were incredible and loving, supportive in every way, and a constant reminder of what it meant to be good and what it meant to choose love no matter what life may through their way. She pulled her mother close, hugging her tightly and enjoying this special moment that would only come once.

“I hate to break this up,” her grandmother said, drawing them back into the fray once more. “But if it has to be broken, I can think of no better reason.”

“What she means to say is we’ve got to get moving. If we even think about being late, Killian will find us and drag you away, and then we’ll have planned all of this for nothing,” Ruby exclaimed, grabbing her bouquet and heading towards the door.

“Wouldn’t want that, would we?” Elsa teased following suit with Anna close behind, but Emma flushed, thinking it might not be the worst thing to be swept away by her mate. Still, she wanted this moment, to be married in front of all their friends and family. It was something they’d worked so hard for, and she knew down to her core that it was going to all work out in the most wonderful way.

In the few weeks since coming home from their fight against George, Emma began to taste the dreams that she’d most wanted. A dose of normal and calm, stability and contentment, that was what she’d wanted, and since coming home she felt that. The doom and gloom of before felt largely lifted. She was centered and in love, grateful for all that she had, and full of faith that the things still yet to be rectified would be won out in the end. Gold was still out there, but for now they were safe, and while Emma and Killian had been focusing on themselves and on this wedding, her friends had begun to take over the hunt for their final foe. Emma trusted Elsa and Anna and Ruby to do everything they could, and that trust allowed her to feel free again, free from the weight of the whole world, and free from the worry that all the goodness in her life might someday disappear. Right now she was grounded in belief that their darkest times were past them, and on this picture perfect day, she had no space for demons. There was just her and Killian and the people they loved most, celebrating the love that they had found, and taking one last step together towards being man and wife.

In a flurry of excitement her friends and her Mom and Grandma helped her down the stairs, and as they descended Emma felt the pitter-pattering of her heart begin. A million little butterflies took flight inside of her and it was like all of her firsts with Killian wrapped into one. She remembered the first time she saw him, the first date they went on, the first night they’d made love. Her nerves were frayed from the rush of it all, but she wasn’t nervous, just impatient. She wanted to get to this moment so badly, but she reminded herself to be present. This was a once in a lifetime thing. She’d never do this again, never make these special memories, so she had to feel it all and witness it, for all its depth and beauty.

When she finally made it downstairs, and everyone was convinced that she was totally ready without a hair out of place, they began to move outside. One by one her friends marched forward towards the day, the warmth of the summer evening moving in, while a coastal breeze swept through, keeping things comfortable and cool. By the time Emma got outside, she was eager to get going, and then she saw her father, diligently waiting for her outside, prepared to escort her down the aisle.

“Honey, you look…” her Dad trailed off, his words caught in his throat and she saw the tears misting in his eyes. Oh crap, if her mother had threatened tears for Emma, then her father was the final blow. She couldn’t hold back when he looked at her like this, like being her Dad was the most important thing to him. “You look perfect.”

“Thank you, Dad,” she replied, taking his extended arm and leaning into him. “Any final words you want to hit me with? I’m not going to lie, I half expected you to have the car packed and a bug out plan in place.”

She teased him, needing a lightness in this moment, and she was rewarded with her father’s warm chuckle of amusement. It wasn’t so off base to think that her Dad might do that. He’d threatened as much her whole life, and always told her that no one would be good enough for his little girl. But despite those once held feelings, Emma knew the respect that her father had for Killian. They shared an understanding between them, and whatever her Dad might think of Killian’s worth, he trusted him beyond the shadow of a doubt to love Emma and protect her. Her father saw Killian for what he was – her fated mate and perfect partner, a man who would build her up and keep her grounded. He would make her strong and stand beside her, and he would do so with honesty and integrity and grace. And at the end of the day, what more could any parent ask for when it came to any of their children?

“Trust me I thought about it,” he quipped and Emma raised a brow, playing along with his joke. “But then I reminded myself that as much as that man loves you, you love him just the same. You’d never choose a life without him. Besides, he makes you happy, and you deserve all the happiness in the world.”

“I love you, Dad,” she whispered, kissing his cheek before wiping away a rogue tear that somehow slipped past her defenses.

“And I love you, Emma. Now let’s get going before I change my mind and hightail it out of here.”

Emma smiled at the last of the jokes, and realized it was their queue to head down the aisle. They had a hedgerow blocking them from view to come around first, and Emma felt her breathing even out. Things felt like they slowed down, and her actions kept in line with the beat of the music playing her way to her future. She and her Dad moved in time together, taking one step and then another and another closer to Killian. Finally, when they cleared the greenery and he came into view, Emma almost stopped moving, struck by how handsome he looked and the look of love in his eyes. He never hid his feelings for her, no matter what their situation, but seeing that uncut adoration filled her with sunshine and bliss. Happy was the word her father used, but this was so much more than that. There was no way to express it except to say she felt complete. Everything was clicking into place, and as the space between them closed, and her father handed her off to Killian, kissing her cheek before leaving her there at the altar, the rest of the world faded away. It was just her and Killian, coming together to pledge their hearts for now and always.

“You’re everything, Emma,” Killian whispered to her, and she smiled, feeling how the opening of her heart opened her mind to him too. The feelings he had and the things that he thought about her were warm and good and true, and she felt the same. It overcame them both as they looked at each other in front of all their friends and family. In fact, she was so caught up in him she missed the part of the ceremony where they were supposed to say their vows. Luckily Killian did the same, and when the officiant cleared his throat, everyone laughed, including Emma and Killian.

“Right. Well I know we said short and sweet, love, but I hope you’ll forgive me for making a few changes.”

“Oh here we go,” a voice that sounded like Liam’s said from the audience, and then just after there was a whooshing sound let loose, like whoever had spoken got a swift jab to the gut. Emma laughed, but didn’t need to look to know Elsa was managing things. Then Killian stepped closer, breaking the tradition of holding both hands so one came up to cup her cheek as they stood flush against each other. Everything fell away again, and all that remained was this man and his beautiful words.

“I, Killian Jones, take you, Emma Nolan, to be my wife and mate forever. To have and to hold, to love and to cherish, for now and for always. I pledge to honor and adore you, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, in good times and in bad.  My love for you will never waiver, it will grow stronger every day. I vow to protect you, to fight for you, to never leave your side. I vow to choose you and only you for every day that I live and every day thereafter. All I have is yours, my heart, my soul, and all the rest. You have me, Emma, all of me, and you will have me forever.”

Hearing those words wash over her, Emma had never known such bliss. The feeling of rightness that came with his love was effervescent and she knew in her heart that these words were such a small glimpse into his love for her. He could go on forever about he felt, but this was perfect. So perfect, in fact that she reiterated as much of it as she could.

“I, Emma Nolan, take you, Killian Jones, to be my husband and mate forever. To have and to hold, to love and to cherish, for now and for always. I pledge to honor and adore you, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, in good times and in bad. My love for you will never waiver, it will never break, it will never fade. I vow to protect your heart, to fight for our happiness, and to never leave you. I promise to choose you and only you for this life and every other. All that I am will love you eternally, for all that you are and so much more, and all that I want is to be with you forever. You have me now and you have me forever.”

Again their shared intimacy meant they missed their final queue, or rather that they jumped the gun so to speak, for the moment the words were out of her mouth, Killian closed the space between them, sealing their love with a glorious kiss. In the background she heard the officient finalize their promises, proclaiming them man and wife, and the cheering of her family and friends, but even when they pulled back, she only had eyes for Killian, the love of her life, her fated mate, and now her handsome husband.

………..

Everything it took to get here was completely worth it.

Swaying with his wife as one of her favorite songs crooned all around them, Killian truly understood why weddings meant so much to people. Despite his original instincts that mating was enough, he knew that this was a remarkable moment. This day was a gift for which he’d be forever grateful, and as long as he lived he would carry the memories of his beautiful Emma tying herself to him in one final way.

All day it had been hard to catch his breath. It started by being away from his bride. To say he hated separation would be an understatement, but he wanted to honor Emma’s wishes and the wishes of her mother. He told himself hundreds of times that this would be the last time they’d ever need a night like this, but it didn’t do much good. His sleep was troubled and his eagerness for time to pass was undeniable. It felt like a very long wait to get to the ceremony, but once they were there time sped to an almost alarming degree. Seeing Emma as a vision in white, watching her walk towards him, making their vows to each other – he memorized every moment was shocked at how quickly it all came and went. Now they’d celebrated properly, with dinner and drinking and merriment, and after hours on the dance floor, the night was winding down and it was nearly time to bring his mate home.

“Part of me never wants this to end,” Emma admitted, her words laced with a happiness that was infectious and sublime. She looked up at him, her jade eyes glittering in the light, her smile making her all the more beautiful. She was gorgeous and surreal, and when he took the chance to dip her in the dance and she let loose a full-throated laugh she was even more amazing.

“And the other part?” he asked, genuinely curious as to her feelings.

“The other part wants us to get home so you can finally see what I’m wearing underneath this dress.”

And that was it – there was no pulling back now, and from the expression on Emma’s face she knew exactly what her words would do. All day he’d been strong, never breaking, despite his want to claim her. Okay, actually there was that one brief interlude in her bedroom upstairs… but that was over far too quickly and he’d stopped before they could really get carried away, knowing when he claimed her as his wife he’d need a very long time before they were ready to resurface. Now, however, he moved with swift assuredness, sweeping Emma up into his arms so she let out a squeak of surprise before laughing again. He looked to the others and thanked them all for coming, but told them all they were headed home.

“Are you going to carry me the whole way?” Emma teased and Killian thought about it for a minute, but realized it would probably be best for the sake of the humans in attendance if he reined himself in only slightly. Instead he put her in his brother’s car without so much as asking to borrow it, careful to see Emma was cared for while also trying to move as quickly as he could. He looked to Liam, but didn’t have to bother asking. His brother was two steps ahead of him and he threw his keys from across the lawn. Killian caught them, started the car, and they drove away to the sound of everyone wishing them well and saying goodbye.

“Wow was that really all it took to make you break?” Emma asked giddily, thrilled at her ability to move him towards their wedding night like this. “I thought I’d have to do more to tempt you.”

She shifted in the chair and the slit that was part of her dress edged up her thigh. Killian groaned, driven by a need to get her home but a deep seeded yearning to pull the car over and have his way with her now. She was a bloody siren and she knew it, but all he could do right now was cover her hand with his, holding firm to keep her from tormenting him more.

“Some would call my show of control today heroic, love. Men have died from less.”

“Is that so?” Emma teased, but then it was his turn to flip the tables. He allowed their link to be more open between their minds and he let his fantasies run wild of what he’d do with her tonight. He spared a glance at her, knowing it could only last a second as he was driving, but the blush on her cheeks and the way she fidgeted in her seat spoke to her need. He could smell her arousal, practically taste it on his tongue, and only the thought that soon he’d taste it in the flesh kept him halfway sane. By the time they made it home he was ravenous, and now Emma was with him, clinging to him as he carried her inside and over the threshold for the first time as man and wife.

He didn’t stop moving until they made it upstairs, and only when they were fully inside their bedroom suite did Killian place her down so her feet would touch the floor. In the time it took to get up here, Emma had regrouped and the vixen in her came out to play. Her smile was almost wolfish as she teased him, slowly kicking off her heels as her hand came to her side to unzip the hidden fastener on her dress. Inch by glorious inch, Killian watched, as she bared herself to him, releasing herself from the tight fit of this blasted garment that drew him in all night. It fit her to perfection, making his mouth water even as his heart seized in his chest. On the outside she was pristine and classic – a constant allurement but classily encased. There was nothing too revealing, nothing too ostentatious, but because it was Emma it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. Well at least until the moment she let the dress fall in a pool of satin and lace at her ankles. Then he saw what she had on underneath and he lost it, springing towards her like a wolf coming in for the kill.

“I take it that you like what you see,” Emma whispered, her words hoarse but confident, speaking to her lust and need.

“I’ve never loved anything as I love you, Emma,” he said, tracing her skin with his fingers, toying between gentle caresses and a more firm grasp in a way that made Emma’s breathing falter. “You’re gorgeous to me every moment of every day, but now… now you look good enough to eat.”

“This would be the perfect time to make a big bad wolf joke…” Emma said, but her words cut off with a cry of pleasure as his lips touched her neck and he nipped at her skin, maneuvering her back to the bed, knowing that soon there would be no words between them – only magic and desire.

“All right then, love, I’m waiting.”

He gave her the chance to make her fairytale reference as he stepped back, shedding his dress shirt and pants that he’d donned all day. Instead of forming words, however, his wife’s eyes stayed locked on his motions, and the almost feral hunger he felt at seeing her was replicated at her seeing him. He could almost feel her touch already, and it was excruciatingly delightful anticipating this coming together.

“Waiting?” she asked, clearly already forgetting what she’s said mere moments ago.

“You were saying something about me being a big bad wolf,” he growled out as he came above her on the bed, boxing her in. “And I assure you I can be all those things if you so choose.”

Killian’s smile ticked up at the way her heartbeat pounded and the instinct she had to grasp him close and not let go. In a moment like this more words escaped him, but instead of trying to find them, he ran his hands along her smooth, creamy, skin and savored the feel of her heat and the way her breathing slowed when he traced absent minded designs along her flesh.

“Yes, I want that,” she said, giving him the green light to have his wicked way with her tonight. His animal and he were thrilled at the prospect, but he had to make sure.

“It’s your call, Emma. Do you want me doting and gentle…?” She shook her head, before he could get the other option out.

“No, I want you with me, which is out of my mind with wanting you.”

Their lips crashed together then and both of them dueled for the best taste of each other. Killian felt her hand go down from his jaw, to his chest, across the slope of his abs to grip around his achingly hard cock, and the motion pulled a growl from deep within him. If that was how she wanted things, he would not disappoint. Still he stopped her progress, removing her hand, instantly missing it, but needing to take things in a different direction. Both parts of him demanded that – the man and the wolf.

“On your knees, love. Facing the headboard.” The flash of excitement and arousal that sparked in her made Killian growl low, but before she could follow his request he halted her motions. “Wait.”

“Wait?!” She cried out as his hand came to her sex and he felt the slick heat there beneath the barely there scrap of lace. His love was beyond need at this point, and from the simple, almost innocent contact she moaned, arching towards him, seeking any kind of release.

“Tell me you’re mine first, Emma. Mine now and always.”

“I’m yours,” she said immediately, clearly desperate to comply. “Now and always.”

“And you know I’m yours, just the same, don’t you, my love?”

She nodded as his fingers continued to tease her but he knew it wouldn’t be enough. Finally he caved and ripped the lace straight off of her. Then he pulled her towards the edge of the bed, giving him better access to what he wanted most. Emma didn’t argue now, and as he kissed down her body, disposing of the last of the fabric on her skin, her eyes sparkled with white hot need. By the time he tasted her sex she was desperate, and the keening cry of her need only spurred him on. There was nothing slow in this. He was starved for her, wound up to distraction, and simultaneously calmed and crazed by the taste of her. He felt her shake and quiver as a climax claimed her, but it wasn’t enough. He took another, and then brought her damn near a third before relenting, maneuvering her to her hands and knees and reveling in the enthusiasm she showed at being taken this way.

He got her into position, knowing this way would be deeper and that, as with their mating night and more heated nights before, he could claim her in a manner that appeased the man and the beast within. When she was ready, his hand moved down her back and he took his place behind her. With deft hands, he positioned her and though he wanted nothing more than to take her, he couldn’t help but to tease her. His hands traced over her, purposefully hitting each point he knew would drive her crazy.

“Fuck, Killian!” She shifted slightly trying to urge him on and Killian nipped at the back of her shoulder.

“Keep your hands where they are love.”

She immediately returned them to their original place and Killian continued to pay attention to her breasts until her squirming against him signaled that she needed more. With one of his hands, he traced down her chest over the abdomen that in a few weeks time would be swollen with the presence of their child. A low grumble emanated from his chest at the thought of Emma carrying such a gift. He and his wolf loved that idea, and already knew there’d be many more children between he and his mate. Eventually he allowed his hand to go lower, finally ending up between her spread legs, and finding her dripping sex, even more needy for him. As soon as he made contact with her clit, Emma again moaned his name.

“Why are you torturing me?” She asked breathily.

“Torture?” He asked, and she nodded, but he knew that this was in some ways a lie. Yes she might be in a suspended kind of agony holding on, but the longer he waited the more she’d enjoy every bit of this. Time had shown him that before, and he intended to make use of that knowledge tonight. “I wouldn’t call this torture, my love. I’d call it destiny. I was made to claim you and you me. Every night, just like this, as long as we both shall live.

“God, yes. Killian, please.” Killian kissed at the juncture of her shoulder and neck as he thrust inside her and the impact made him bite down to keep from groaning. Emma made no such attempt, and the sound of her pleasure fueled him on. Their pace was rough and frenzied, both of them chasing a high, and when they found it, they luxuriated in the feel of it. Of course it was hardly enough, and through the night they came together more than once. Sometimes he led, something she did, but every time one truth remained – their love was eternal and would always endure.

Finally, after hours of energy and exertion, sleep came to claim them both, and when it did, they dreamed of each other, of their child, and of the life that lay in store for them. And though there were still a few questions that lingered, and some unknown spots along the horizon, they both fell asleep knowing something beyond the shadow of a doubt: no matter what happened and no matter what may come, they would always have each other and their family to fight for, to honor, and to love forever more.

Post-Note: So there we have it. This is the final chapter of Lost Souls and Reveries. However, I am so so thrilled to announce (or rather remind you all) that I have signed on to this years CSSNS and my story will actually be a sequel to this story where the gang takes on Gold! It will be told in many character’s POV (think Elsa, Anna, Ruby) BUT it will start with Emma and Killian and end with Emma and Killian AND I promise there is lots of CS thrown into the mix. We’ll get to see them and how they’re doing, and we’ll see them get closer to the birth of their daughter as well as eventual bonus epilogues about what happens when all is said and done. That’s coming out this summer, so keep an eye out if you’re interested. That being said, I am so grateful for each and every one of you who commented, reviewed, and reached out about this story. This has been a labor of love that has taken nearly two years to complete and it is the most out of my wheelhouse story I have ever written. This story challenged me and inspired me, even while it infuriated me and eluded me. My muse played so hot and cold, but the end result, I hope, is something that has made you smile and been something you enjoyed. The goal of all my stories is to spread happiness and fluff, and at a time like this, I think that’s exactly what our fandom could use more of. Anyway, thank you all so much again for your support. I love you all for cheering me on and telling me what you think. It always makes my day to know you like a story, and I truly cherish each kind word. Wishing you all health and happiness in these trying time! – Emily

Tag list: @jennjenn615, @kmomof4, @winterbaby89, @teamhook, @ultraluckycatnd, @resident-of-storybrooke, @artistic-writer, @snowbellewells, @snarkycaptainswan4, @allofdafandoms-blog

[black-is-no-colour]

AnOther Magazine Autumn Winter 2020  Cover Story: John Galliano on Fallen Angels, Blitz Kids & Meeting Margiela

EMAIL EXCHANGE BETWEEN JOHN GALLIANO AND ANOTHER MAGAZINE, JULY 2020

AnOther Magazine: You went back to your own beginnings with this collection – your work of the 80s, your formative ideas about fashion. Why did that feel right for now?

John Galliano: Compression and suppression inspire a distinct sense of creativity, resourcefulness. During the lockdown period, something drew my mind to the way we felt during the Thatcher years, our backs up against the wall. Nothing can stand in the way of this kind of creativity.

AM: Why was your 1986 Fallen Angels collection specifically a point of inspiration – what is it about that collection that resonated?

JG: In confinement, I had come across the neoclassical wet drapery of Antonio Corradini and Raffaelle Monti – these veiled heroines in marble – which really appealed to me. I was hungry for the kind of aspirational beauty that inspires hope. In many ways, we were expressing the same sentiment in the 80s. It was a hankering for beauty, for heroism, for hedonism and hope.

AM: Fashion has changed so much since that era – in large part through work you yourself have undertaken across your career, helping to reinvent the ways we see clothes and fashion as a whole. Why does that era’s aesthetic and spirit speak to you today? To hark back to another collection of yours, is it about rediscovering a forgotten innocence?

JG: Between then and now, the common denominator is resourcefulness. The motivations were different but the expressions are similar – working with what you have, you try to find hope through the beauty of escapism.

AM: The Blitz Kids were a slightly earlier reference, but also in the mix. Why is that pertinent to now? That idea of dressing up to party – a decadence, perhaps? Certainly a glamour.

JG: Zoom parties! Putting on a red lip for the screen. We may be in a time of limitation, but we still have a human need to dress up, express ourselves and have a good time. Glamour needs an audience. I’ve never referenced a period in my own life before, but the emotional state of lockdown evoked an energy I had felt before.

AM: Can you describe your feelings when you first walked into the Blitz? Do you have any anecdotes you’d be happy to share?

JG: I wasn’t queen bee at the time. I had not become the peacock people associate with John Galliano. I was still quite shy, on my foundation year at Saint Martin’s. But, working Saturdays at [the boutique] PX, I had met a girl named Maria. Her background was Spanish, we hit it off and she got me into the Blitz club, along with Princess Julia, who worked down the road. I was a bit in awe of these characters. Of course, I wasn’t ruling like the Stephen Linards and the Stephen Joneses – I couldn’t even afford to go every week – but I did serve some looks.

AM: Stephen Jones once said that people were embarrassed to be seen in designer clothes – apart from Westwood, actually – at Blitz, that people made their own clothes. Was that something you also remember and experienced? Why was that?

JG: I think it was in the spirit of the time. We didn’t have the resources. I remember I had a brown workwear suit, a two-piece, with asymmetric fastening and little gold studs on it. It had a blue contrast collar with an embroidered yellow oak leaf. And I probably wore some kind of pointed pixie boot. Charles, the manager of Mrs Howie [a groundbreaking boutique in London, opened in 1976 by future fashion PR Lynne Franks and her then-husband, Paul Howie], would sometimes let me wear a hand-knitted jumper that had the letter S, for Super, on it. In the Blitz, people would dress up as historical eccentrics. Resourcefulness became our gateway to self-expression.

AM: You talked about the theatrical costumier Charles Fox in the film you produced to show the Artisanal collection. Can you elaborate on that – what happened and what it meant to you? Many of the references – the military, the men’s formalwear – are still with you today, as is, undoubtedly, that spirit of reinvention and transformation.

JG: When Charles Fox closed down, all these amazing characters and Saint Martin’s students flocked there to buy it all up. Today, you might call it upcycling, but back then it was what they could get their hands on. If you have a love of theatre and history, reinvigorating the old is a reinvigorating process in itself. Creation is the very act of giving life to something.

AM: It’s interesting that you chose to reveal your creative process so openly in the film, from research, to narrative, to referencing, cutting and making and styling. That feels quite precious – a lot of designers keep it to themselves. Why did you decide to share that? Why is it right for now?

JG: The anxiety we all experienced during the lockdown period created a need for transparency. I felt a desire to be clear about what we stand for at Maison Margiela – our core beliefs in diversity, inclusion and self-expression – which all begins with the process work. By recording and showing our research practice, our genderless fittings and how we express ourselves through charity finds and upcycling, we reinforce those values in a way that might appeal to Gens Y and Z. It is my hope that when our clients eventually meander into a Maison Margiela store and see the results of that process, those values will resonate. Perhaps this format can be a blueprint for a new way of proposing our ideas and ethics.

AM: Your clothes always tell a story – often many stories interwoven. You find these extraordinary narrative references and they feed your creativity. Does fashion need to tell a story – does a narrative add to fashion, for the wearer – or is that your process, just for you as a creator?

JG: The narrative informs my research and the process work and the way I communicate with my team through that process. But in the end I often keep it to myself. During the creative process, however, it feeds into the values that are transmitted through our work and which create a connection with our clients.

AM: What was it like designing a collection during lockdown? What were the good things, what were the bad things? How did the process change? And do you feel it has changed your creativity – your viewpoint on the world?

JG: In the beginning, it filled me with anxiety – and like everyone, of course, we had to deal with practical challenges. To me, it became a matter of turning those challenges into a sense of resourcefulness. I applied some of the things I’ve been fortunate to have been taught in the past. It’s like a mourning period – once you accept reality, you are able to embrace the unknown. And so it became a driving force – the feeling that nothing would stand in the way of creativity.

AM: Given the current situation, people are speculating that the collective experience of the fashion show may be a thing of the past. You have staged some of the greatest fashion shows in history, redefining the medium. What is your reaction to the idea that fashion shows may be of the past? How important are shows to you, as a means of expressing your ideas?

JG: What I eventually realised during the lockdown period was that fashion as we’ve known it in the past will never be the same, at least not until a vaccine is found. For the moment, I hope the format we adapted to this season can be a new way of communicating and exploring one’s collection. I don’t really like doing those big shows any more, because so often the focus is taken off the clothes. I prefer smaller shows. For now, I’m happy treading gently in this new direction.

AM: Our fight and flight instincts have perhaps never been so acute, and both those elements are present in the collection. The confrontation of taking clothing apart at the seams and the romance and fantasy of veiling, clothes that appear drenched in water. Does that make sense to you?

JG: The idea of fight and flight is another way of expressing resourcefulness and escapism – elements that have been inseparably interlinked through history. The human desire for beauty and seduction is a powerful instinct.

AM: When it comes to difficulties, do you feel that you, as a designer, propose clothes to fight in, or clothes as a flight of fantasy, an antidote to reality? Which do you find more powerful?

JG: I have spoken before about our desire to transmit Gen Z’s appetite for defiance through self-expression as a reaction to conformism and the societal preconceptions that negate our authentic selves. My proposals reflect those values. I hope our work can be tools for the expression of individuality and a message of joy and hope.

AM: In the film you showed predominantly classical female veiling. Did you look at veiled men in classical sculpture too? In some ways that has always been more scandalous, the naked Christ.

JG: Historically, the wet drapery that inspired me was often related to images of goddesses – and gods, too. During the process work, I began to express it in these celestial bodies – heroines as well as heroes – which draw the mind to many areas of mythology. You’ll recognise it in how I christened each passage in the collection, and in [model] Malick’s performance in the film.

AM: How does that religious iconography relate to your childhood?

JG: It’s a familiar element of my upbringing, because my mum brought it from Gibraltar and Spain. But this collection is reflective of so many mythologies.

AM: You are a person who has often had to deal with a lack of resources and has somehow managed to turn those limitations into a positive. The São Schlumberger collection, for example. How – and why – does limitation inspire you?

JG: Limitation creates challenges, and challenges force us to innovate. Whether inspiration is born out of necessity or out of determination – such as a desire to be sustainable – it inevitably enriches the creative process.

AM: There’s always a conversation around the relevance of haute couture – people argue that it is moribund, anachronistic, and so on. In what way do you feel you have moved the Artisanal so it works for now?

JG: I work within a creative pyramid, the pyramidion of which is haute couture. The work we do in the Artisanal atelier – the experimentation, development and technical know-how – drip-feeds into every other collection at Maison Margiela. Haute couture isn’t an expression of elitism, it’s what fuels a fashion house. It is the highest and most authentic form of dressmaking, and in an age tuned into transparency, I think the role of the dressmaker will be re-evaluated.

AM: And why genderless? That also goes back to the Blitz, perhaps?

JG: Genderless-ness is part of our genetics at Maison Margiela. It goes back to the freedom of self-expression and breaking down preordained conformist ideas of masculinity and femininity. Without these societal preconceptions we are free to express ourselves, to discover new things and evolve. The Blitz club, like certain communities today, provided an escapism from societal norms, but so many people are still having to negate their authentic selves. There’s still work to be done.

AM: There is still an amazing sense of the emotion in clothes that are hand-sewn for days, even weeks, on end, the romance of the touch of the hand. It feels very much as if you own that territory and that there are not so many people doing it like that today. Can you expand on that a little please?

JG: Over the years, I have taken on the responsibilities of a creative director, and I accept the role. But I am, at heart, a dressmaker. The creative process is the fuel of fashion. And creativity is the blood that courses through my veins and through this house.

AM: Craft is incredibly important to what you do – and always has been. It feels integral to your idea of couture. What does handicraft represent now, in a time when it is more difficult for many people to be together?

JG: Someone who watched the film told me that the connectivity between the team really shines through. That meant a lot to me, because connectivity is created by authenticity – and there’s nothing more honest than craftsmanship.

AM: There’s also the idea of construction and the extremely technical pattern cutting involved in this collection specifically. Can you talk a little more about the circular cut? About the methods you explored in these clothes, this collection?

JG: I mentioned how I was hungry for an aspirational beauty that creates the same sense of hope I remembered from the Blitz years. Back then, I had discovered the bias through a technique I had developed called circular cutting. It’s a way of structuring garments from several circular pieces – in this case, fabrics like butter muslin and thermocollant – which diffuse the draping and can evoke that wet, chiselled effect. The tailored pieces are examples of Recicla – humble charity-shop finds that I reinvigorated with heroic cutting – rooted in décortiqué, inspired by the hedonism of the dance L’Apache, which conjured these armour-like silhouettes. That process reminded me of the resourcefulness of the Blitz era.

AM: You talk about the idea of a community, the Margiela pluralism of ‘we’. Do you think that is a more humane position than, for want of a better way of putting it, the concept of the designer superstar? You have experienced both – in a sense, you have epitomised both.

JG: It is my hope that the film reflects the sense of community and connectivity that exists within the pyramidical structure of our fashion house.

AM: You have always had your own community. You can really see that in the film. These are all people who have been with you for a long time, some even from the start. They seem like kindred spirits – is that important? Finding people you can communicate with instinctively, maybe even without words?

JG: Community is about sharing and connecting, becoming part of a unity and relating to one another through emotions rooted in mutual memories. As you see in the film, we share all these things and use that connectivity in the creative process.

AM: In general, what is the importance of teamwork – of community – in fashion? Does it feel more important than ever now, following the assault on our personal freedom and contact with other human beings that the pandemic has brought?

JG: The lockdown period demonstrated the human need for connection. Immediately, we all took to Zoom and other channels to invoke a sense of connectivity. Fashion has the power to express codes of belonging. Through the values we have reinforced this season, I hope we are able to communicate the ethics of our community – the values of Maison Margiela.

AM: I think perhaps people don’t always realise the many connections between yourself and Martin Margiela – the importance of white and clothing stripped back to the toile, the interest in 18th-century cut, the deconstructing and reconstructing of traditional garments and the value of a sense of the passing of time, of age. How do you feel your two aesthetics relate to one another?

JG: When I met with Martin shortly before I joined the house, as a couturier I was particularly interested in his adaptation of the codes of haute couture – the idea of the maison, the white coats, the genetics, and so on. As we continue to establish a new set of codes at Maison Margiela, I hope those parallels feel inherent.

AM: You have launched a Recicla collection as part of the ready-to-wear and the Artisanal, where you source vintage items and rework them. That, again, references the Maison Margiela Replica heritage, but it is also a gesture towards sustainability. It’s an overused word but why is it important and can fashion ever really be sustainable?

JG: Upcycling, the raison d’être of Recicla, is a self-evident proposal for sustainability, but one that invigorates the creative process at the same time. Recicla started its life in the Artisanal atelier but is now being embraced by our commercial teams and actively going into stores, and I’m so happy to witness this development. Step by step, we can all play our part in being resourceful and reducing waste.

AM: You are among the most-referenced designers in student and emerging designers’ work. Does that make you happy, even proud? It’s not easy for you to answer, maybe, but why do you think it is?

JG: If I can deliver some of the hope, aspiration and passion that I remember from my own time in college, it’s a joy. Every year, when our new lot of stages arrive from the colleges, I do a dinner for them and get out my finest china and crystal. Sometimes it’s a drag ball or a karaoke. We have fun. When they come here they’re no different from how I was. Their experiences today are different because of the internet, but they’re creative souls like we were.

AM: There’s that old cliché of money being no object. In many ways, the most brilliant fashion proves and disproves that. How would you look at that sentiment, given the value of experience/hindsight?

JG: Financial resources make a difference to the way in which ideas can be executed and communicated. But some of the finest ideas are born out of a lack of resources. Drive can be fuelled by desire, but also by necessity.

AM: What would you say to a student starting out? I feel that your words would be very important to them, given the challenges facing any young designer, but perhaps more than ever now.

JG: Believe in yourself. Believe in your dream. Be passionate. You can be whatever you want to be. Don’t listen to anybody who says you can’t. Work hard and never give up.

AM: What are your hopes and dreams for fashion as we emerge from this crisis? And what are your hopes and dreams for the world?

JG: Now, more than ever, we need to respect fashion as a platform for communicating our values and ethics. As we emerge from this crisis, it is our responsibility to stand up for what we believe in – inclusivity, diversity, nonconformity, self-expression. We have to use the voice of fashion for positive change.

The full article is here: AnOther Magazine

[grapefruitsketches]

Untamed Spring Fest 2020 - Day 7: Pastel

2,278 Words

YanQing, Wen Qing, Jiang Yanli, hurt/comfort, fluff & angst, set around Episode 17 of CQL (at the Yiling Supervisory Office)

“With grey clouds starting to form overhead, she didn’t like that she didn’t know where Yanli was.”

Wen Qing had guests, but that didn’t make her a host. She was busy. Between preparing various tonics and ointments, supervising Wen Ning, her daily trips into Yiling proper to restock supplies, and visiting various patients, she had hardly had time to talk to her brother about the three traumatized Yunmeng siblings now staying in her home. Her guests didn’t seem all that interested in speaking to her anyway at the moment.

Even though she couldn’t dispute that it was easier to work without them under her feet, she wished that Jiang Cheng was awake, that Wei Wuxian was making trouble. She wished, above all, that they would all get better if only to relieve the sullen look on Wen Ning’s face.

Wen Ning had always been upbeat - had been the ray of idealistic optimism to her cynical pragmatism. She needed Wen Ning to be alright, to be happy, and safe. If not, what had this all been for anyway?

As she cleared the empty soup bowls from Wei Wuxian’s table, Wen Qing realized that she hadn’t seen Yanli all day. Yanli had spent most of her time since her arrival acting as the perfect image of a doting sister. She cooked and sat by her brother’s bedside. She even kept Wen Ning company, bringing a smile to his face as she asked him questions about the medicines that Wen Ning was only too proud to answer.

Wen Qing understood Yanli’s impulse well. She had felt it herself during her and Wen Ning’s first nights in Nightless City. Keep busy. Keep the others’ spirits up. Be the rock in the storm that had destroyed everything they’d ever known. If she wasn’t the rock, who would be? Show any sign of weakness and they would be swept away in an instant. Wen Qing understood that this structure, this work towards normalcy, could be a powerful coping mechanism. But she also knew that Yanli had a fever and that she did not want anyone, especially her brothers, to worry about.

Without ever bringing it up, Wen Qing had been keeping an eye on the fever. She had been happy to see that Yanli seemed able to maintain her regular sleeping schedule mostly without stumbling, but Wen Qing wished she would dedicate some time to healing. With grey clouds starting to form overhead, she didn’t like that she didn’t know where Yanli was.

The supervisory office was big, but not that big, and Wen Qing did not see Yanli as the kind of person to wander off into areas of the residence that Wen Qing had not shown her. Yanli was not in the kitchen, or her own quarters, or the library, or at Jiang Cheng’s bedside. Wen Qing quickly checked on the sleeping Jiang Cheng before continuing her search. She had only been outside for a few moments before one drop, then two, then a steady shower of rain covered the courtyard - Wen Qing included. Something about the water… the sudden rain on a previously sunny day, sparked a memory.

The pond.

Where else would a child of Lotus Pier go for comfort than to the nearest body of water?

Wen Qing grabbed an umbrella from her quarters, and set off towards the back of the residence, confident that the eldest lotus would be there.

--

Wen Qing remembered her and Yanli’s first real conversation, back in the Cloud Recesses. Wen Qing had been walking by the riverbank, grateful that she had brought an umbrella, unsure as always whether she actually wanted to find what Wen Ruohan had sent her for, or whether it would be better if his goals were simply unachievable. She had at that moment noticed a figure, draped in white with pastel purple designs and an elegant hairpiece, soaked, sitting on a rock, and rubbing her temples.

“Yanli?”  Wen Qing was surprised to see anyone else out in this rain.

They had talked all the way back. Despite her fever, Jiang Yanli was a lively conversationalist. Wen Qing had wondered whether she bored Yanli. To hear Yanli laugh as she described her brothers’ antics, or sigh as she wondered whether she truly felt love for Jin Zixuan, or if she had just resolved herself to be happy because they would be married regardless… Wen Qing could not think of any stories she could reciprocate with. The happy childhood stories Yanli described, and the innocent romantic worries could only be answered by Wen Qing’s experiences of tragedy, too heavy to be borne by such a light and airy mood. She could not discuss her thoughts right now either. She couldn’t exactly tell a Jiang that she was on a covert mission to spy on the Lans.

Wen Qing was lost in this moment of self-pity as she lead Yanli to the bed and covered her with heavy blankets. When she turned towards her medicine stores to find something for dizziness, Yanli’s flow of musings paused for a moment, then, “Thank you Wen Qing.”

Wen Qing turned back, holding the medicine with a soft smile on her face, “It is my job. I am a doctor after all.”

Yanli started to shake her head, then blinked, reaching to steady her probably still swirling world, “No, not just that, I mean.” She fell silent, looking embarrassed all of the sudden.

“What is it?” Wen Qing had encouraged.

“I admire you.” Yanli confessed, “You are always so strong, looking out for your brother, studying the lessons, cultivation, medicine. I can’t help but envy you sometimes, you know.” Yanli smiled, “You do so much and even then, you found time to help me, to… to listen to me.” Yanli looked Wen Qing directly in the eyes, “It means a lot.”

Envy me? Wen Qing tilted her head in confusion, she whispered under her breath, “Jiang Yanli, it is I who should be envious of you.” A loud knock on the door signalled to her that the other Yunmeng siblings had learned of their sister’s whereabouts, and were ready to bring on some new exciting and happy stories to share. She smiled, and hoped that one day, she and Wen Ning would have more chances for such moments together.

--

As she approached the pond towards the back of the Yiling Supervisory Office residence, Wen Qing heard a few sniffs. She should have brought some medicine with her. With this rain, Yanli’s fever was sure to be…

But it was not a fever that Yanli was trying to hide this time. Instead, her sniffs came alongside the tears streaming silently down her face. The rain did a pretty good job concealing them, but Wen Qing’s sharp eye and the hint of puffiness around the oldest Jiang’s eyes betrayed the truth.

Wen Qing wondered at Jiang Yanli then. The woman was sitting by the pond, increasingly drenched in the downpour. Despite this, Wen Qing thought that Yanli looked every bit the tragic heroine so often depicted in the fantastic stories and bright, colourful illustrations Wen Qing had loved as a child. She had long assumed such images could only be the product of a very romantic imagination. But here Yanli was. She looked as though she had stepped out of a painting.

While it was good to cry, Jiang Yanli should not have to do so alone, not when Wen Qing knew she was so often the emotional anchor when others needed to let loose. Wen Qing stepped slowly but confidently along the rain-slicked stone path. “Can I sit here?” she asked kindly, gesturing to the rock next to Yanli’s. Wen Qing held her umbrella over her guest.

“Oh!” Yanli started, leaning a bit too far to the left. Wen Qing gracefully caught her at the elbow before she could slip off the stone. Yanli blinked, “Thank you. Yes. Yes of course you can sit. Sorry.” She turned her head away, moving to wipe her tears with the back of her hand.

Wen Qing caught her hand, “It’s ok. I am happy to see you let some of your tears out. It’s not good to keep them bottled up you know.”

Yanli choked out a small laugh, timidly glancing at her held hand, “But A-Xian… A-Cheng… I need to…”

“They’re not here.” Wen Qing cut her off, Yanli would not be the first patient who she had had to talk down, “I am, and you are, and they’re back inside, safe. I want to make sure you are safe too.” Wen Qing gripped Yanli’s hand firmly.

Yanli’s gaze shifted up, meeting Wen Qing’s eyes, she nodded, “Of course. If you are telling me as my doctor I…”

“Not just as your doctor.” Wen Qing corrected, refusing to break the eye contact that was quickly drawing heat to her face, “As someone who cares about you, Jiang Yanli. I’m telling you right now, you can let it out.”

This seemed to be enough to break the already strained dam. Yanli buried her face in her hands, and sobbed. “They’re gone, Wen Qing. They’re all gone. Mother. Father.” Yanli’s shaking intensified, “The Juniors. The Seniors. I think I may even have lost A-Cheng and A-Xian. The things they must have seen… Oh, Wen Qing, I’m just… I’m so useless!” Yanli wailed, folding over onto Wen Qing’s shoulder.

Useless? Wen Qing pet her awkwardly on the back, unsure how to even begin refuting such a baseless statement.

The crying stopped, but Wen Qing could feel that Yanli had not relaxed. If anything, she had tensed in Wen Qing’s arms. “It’s because of me he lost his golden core, you know.” Yanli whispered, muffled by Wen Qing’s robes such that Wen Qing could only barely make her out.

What? Wen Qing took Yanli firmly by the shoulders and pushed her back into an upright decision, “No. No it was not.” Wen Qing did not even bother to quell her fierce tone, or to leave room for the possibility that Yanli was right.

“If I… if I had been awake, if A-Xian hadn’t had to go get medicine for me, A-Cheng wouldn’t have been able to slip away.” Yanli’s voice was eerily quiet after the loud sobs moments before, “I should have kept an eye on him and then…”

“And then the Wen soldiers would have stopped looking for you? And Wen Chao would forget about you, would have stopped wanting to set Wen Zhuliu on any of you that he could get his hands on? That’s what would have happened if you had not had a fever?” Wen Qing shook her head firmly, “No. No it would not.”

“But if I were stronger, if I had ever properly formed a golden core myself I at least could have helped instead I just…”

“When we were younger, my brother had some of his spiritual cognition forcibly taken while I sat right there, beside him.” Wen Qing hadn’t really meant to say that out loud, to cut Yanli off, but it had gotten Yanli’s attention. Her eyes had gone wide.

“Wen Qing! I’m… I-I can’t imagine what that must… you have been so strong.”

“Are you not going to blame me for not stepping in front of my brother? Or pulling him aside?”

“No… why would…?”

“I could have saved him then a lot more easily than you could have saved Jiang Cheng, while you were recovering from a fever and severe shock.” Wen Qing caught Yanli with a steady gaze, still holding her at arm’s length, “So if you are to blame for Jiang Cheng’s golden core, then I should blame myself for failing to save Wen Ning, for not saving more of my clan, when I had the chance. Is that what I should do?”

Yanli fell silent. Wen Qing tried to maintain her hard look until Yanli admitted she was wrong, but her chin betrayed her, wobbling despite herself, and she could feel the pricks of tears of her own threatening the corners of her eyes.

“Oh, Wen Qing.” Yanli reached out and gently stroked the other woman’s trembling jaw, before snapping her hand back quickly, “Sorry.”

Wen Qing reached out, cupping the side of Yanli’s head in her hand, “Please, no more apologies. You’ve truly done nothing wrong” Yanli smiled and leaned into her hand.

Just as quickly as the rain had started, it stopped. Yanli pulled her head back from Wen Qing’s hand, as Wen Qing withdrew her other hand from Yanli’s shoulder. They giggled, breaking the tension of the warmth they’d each felt at the other’s touch, and looked out over the pond. Fresh sunbeams danced on the water’s surface, kissing the petals of a single lotus, glorious in its full bloom.

“Come.” Wen Qing commanded, pulling Yanli up beside her, ”Let’s get you into some dry clothes.” Wen Qing put a hand to Yanli’s forehead and tutted, “You will never recover if we don’t warm you up and make sure you rest.”

“Mmm.” Yanli agreed, taking the arm Wen Qing offered.

--

Wen Qing still had medicines to prepare, patients to tend to, shopping to do, and all that on top of her and Wei Wuxian’s research. But she was even busier than that. Each and every day, she made time for Yanli. And whether they cooked together (Wen Qing could cobble together a subpar version of the lotus and rib soup now) or prepared tonics (Jiang Yanli picked up the importance of maintaining temperature and the various scents of different medicinal herbs quickly), they treasured this time. Together, they formed their own little oasis, where they could, for at least a little while, ignore the storm building just outside.