#and I haven't decided what god to pledge to

[starlightcleric]

After a six hour outing to visit my in-laws for mother's day, I did not have the mental fortitude left to conquer Forgotten Sanctum (because new things are scary), so I did start a new game for the new iteration of Watcher Jessamine!

Still working on her backstory (and surname), but I know she's an escaped slave come to Dyrwood to start a new life, and everything goes horribly wrong. She's a trained singer, spy, and assassin.

I'm a little worried her stats are spread too thin, but I'm also playing on Easy, so. (I have been debating on bumping up to Normal because it's been a bit too easy.)(I used to be good enough at this game to play it on Hard once upon a time...)

I'm trying real hard to not fall for Aloth for the fourth time, and instead ship her with Tekehu or maybe even Pallegina. (I don't think her and Maia would work out, and I don't think she'll be close to Xoti.)

[m1d-45]

Alright let me try this again.

What if Reader vented to Birb Xiao, not knowing that it was actually him?

They talk about their fears and frustrations, letting out all the words they've wanted to tell a person, but they have to settle for their pretty bird because no one will listen.

So Xiao is just sitting there, resting in the True Creator's hands, listening as he gets a glimpse of how they truly feel.

They say the milileth is like a raging stampede with their spears and swords. They say how the Qixing all seem so cold and unfeeling. They talk about how Zhongli genuinely terrifies them, because he acted so kind to others but was borderline cruel when hunting them.

They talk about Xiao, too, but they don't seem to have many complaints. They haven't seen him in a while, and the last time they crossed paths with him, he just... let them run. The adeptus had looked angry, but also a bit startled (and perhaps, a bit guilty?) at the sight of them. They even once overheard him leading milileth soldiers astray ("by mistake" says the creator, but Xiao knows the truth) by saying the creator had left a while ago, when really, they were still very nearby. While they say they are still a bit scared of him, they don't fear him as much as they fear the others.

All the while, Xiao sits, still as a stone. He takes in every word, every shaky breath and darting glance. He nuzzles into their hand, hoping to offer even the slightest bit of comfort.

He hopes that they continue to be unafraid of him in the future.

-Sibling Anon

he who is without sin

a/n: decided to make this one a full fic for no reason in particular (i don’t have an actual post shhhh)

word count: 1.1k

-> warnings: imposter sagau things, minor blood mention, spoilers for xiao lore, some spoilers for liyue (like names and titles of people/places)

-> gn!reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay

< masterlist > (has context for bird!xiao if you’re lost)

from the moment that xiao was saved, when his new name was bestowed upon him and he signed his contract with morax, xiao had made a promise. another contract, one without physical ink and paper, one bound to his soul.

one to you, his creator.

a pledge to stand by your side, a clause written in by the god that forged his original contract, releasing him from his duties to liyue to serve the one that had granted him life. a permanent extra sweep to his duties, always on the lookout for the highest god above all.

however, he was not the first to find… ‘you.’

‘you’ had landed in sumeru, nested in the large tree surrounding the akademiya. ‘you’ had climbed down, introduced ‘yourself’ to the sages with a smile. everybody was quick to give ‘you’ the glory rightly the creator’s, ushering ‘you’ atop a throne of silver and gold, offerings laid at ‘your’ feet with all the haste of those deprived of the divine.

xiao may have hung back at the beginning, unwilling to allow his karma to infect ‘your’ other worshippers, but he still did his duty. he still kept ‘your’ path clear of enemies, and was the first to pick up his blade when word broke of your imposter.

and yet, when he laid eyes upon the one he was supposed to hate, he was the first to repent.

xiao took a shaking breath, crossing his arms around himself. “morax?”

the elder god turned, amber eyes soft. “what is it, xiao?”

xiao marched through dihua marsh, polearm gripped tightly in his hand. a large hilichurl camp had been reported, which while not an issue normally, was the third in the last four days.

irritation was openly displayed on his face, the anemo around him simmering with his anger. why did the abyss have to act up now, when they were on a hunt? surely even they, as infected and riddled with darkness as they were, worshipped a god? or was that the source of their evil?

he kept marching north, only turning his head at the sound of a soft gasp.

“how will i know when the creator arrives?”

morax smiled, not upset like xiao had anticipated. “don’t worry about such things. when the time comes-“

you stood on the path branching west, eyes wide. you looked nearly exactly like the ’you’ on the throne, the same cool eyes that called for your death now wide and staring at him in fear.

“-you will know.”

you turned on your heel, your armful of sunsettias tumbling to the floor, but… xiao did not chase you.

instead he brought a hand to chest, under his necklace. he pressed, feeling the still-regular beat of his heart.

he pressed, searching for the place where his karma used to be.

from the moment that xiao realized the truth, when his new duty was bestowed upon him, he had made a promise. another contract, one without physical ink and paper, one bound to his soul.

one to you, his creator.

he flew down from the sky, landing in your outstretched hand. he chirped a greeting, body relaxing under your gentle touch.

“hello there, friend,” you cooed, sitting straighter under the tree. your tree, the one you kept coming back to, the one he always directed other adepti away from because it was for you, not them. not him.

you fed him as usual, but stayed strangely silent. no stories of the kindness mitachurls showed you, no update on how close or far the people searching for you had gotten, none of the usual things he looked forward to. you just… sat. watching him in your hand, an emotion he didn’t know the name of drawing your brows close.

maybe you just didn’t want to talk today? but if something was troubling you, he wanted you to share, to allow him some of the weight off your shoulders. then again, he was just a bird to you…

“do you know ganyu, pretty bird?”

xiao froze, thankful he was facing your palm so you couldn’t see his eyes widening.

“i thought i did.”

he looked up, carefully, daring to meet your eyes. this time, he could pin down what you were feeling: betrayal.

his finch heart burned.

your thumb pet over his wings, but he couldn’t bring himself to enjoy it. not now.

“i thought she was kind.”

she was, he knew firsthand. how she worried over the tianquan, fretted over her skills both with a bow and with a pen, how her and the yuheng kept each other afloat in the sea of endless work assigned to the jade chamber.

you smiled. it was bitter. “i guess i should have known better regarding the adepti.”

xiao’s heartbeat raced in his ears, something hot burning a hole in his chest. he was an adeptus, he wanted to say, he could be trusted.

but you didn’t know him as an adeptus. you knew him as your little songbird, your friend, the one you continued to risk your life for, even if you didn’t know it.

he chirped once, somber. he wanted to apologize, to take up his blade against his own king on your behalf, to walk up to the fraud’s throne and watch them bleed red.

but you didn’t need that. so he sat in your hand, leaning into your fingers, and let you speak.

as it turned out, today had been a busy day for you. you had wandered into the path of a millelith patrol, which had happened before, but not with keqing at the head of it. not when she had darted forward in a flash of lighting, electro arcing along her sword. not when she’d pulled out and blew a special whistle even as you ran, one that you couldn’t hear but could feel under your skin, taunting you as you tried to navigate the maze of bishui plain.

when you told him of ganyu’s frostflake arrows, he wanted to cry. when you described the anger in zhongli’s eyes, he started to weep.

you didn’t deserve this pain. you didn’t deserve having to outrun planet befall, you didn’t deserve to fear your life being stolen by those who should protect you at all costs- he should have been there. he was south, too far south to hear the whistle, but he should have been called.

he should have protected you.

under the shifting leaves of a sandbearer tree, your songbird cried. and you, none the wiser, continued to spell out the cause of his torment.

.

[ddejavvu]

Good morning!

Requesting camboy Hotch - when one of his subordinates watches him (without realising it’s their boss) until the next morning when they notice they’re hotel room’s the same?

or something along those lines? just camboy Hotch being hot, pls and thank you.

today is multiverse monday! send me an au you can think of :)

this post is 18+, minors dni.

You have to admit, you've got a thing for forearms. Especially when they're partially covered by a rolled-up button up shirt, muscles and veins accentuated alike by the grip the man has on his cock. He's strained, trying to keep his pace slow so that the livestream doesn't end too soon. You're thankful for that, as the fatigue settled deep in your bones is making it hard to get off.

Not too hard, though, as the man's thick, rough thumb slips over his slit, collecting a bead of precum from his tip and smearing it down his length. His cock is thick, hard, and twitching as he tries containing himself, and the grunts coming from his mouth show just how hard he's trying to make himself wait.

The voice sounds familiar, but it's nothing you can place. You're sure you've never heard anything that low and raspy before, but the underlying tone sounds eerily familiar.

You realize you're lost in your thoughts, eyes shifting from the terribly ugly painting in the background back to the man. He's splayed out against the side of the bed, and you lament such an attractive man having such poor choice in decor.

You suppose you don't know if he's really attractive. You haven't seen his face, but his body alone is enough to make you sweat.

And sweat you do, beads of it gathering on your hairline as you keep yourself buried beneath the covers. Once your thighs stop trembling and you can ease your fingers out of yourself you retreat to the bathroom, hearing a similar flow of water in Hotch's room just next door. You're surprised he's still awake, as you'd been sent to your room an hour ago, but knowing him, he's still working.

You allow yourself a light scoff at his behavior, crawling into bed with even more exhaustion plaguing your body and a fond smile on your face.

--

When you step out of your room the next morning, running a minute late to the precinct, you're surprised to see Hotch's door open. You peer inside, already dreading the worst and expecting to see it ransacked, but he's pulling on his shoes, tie dangling over the ground.

He hears your footsteps and glances up at you, offering a tired smile.

"Y/L/N," He greets you, voice gruff from sleep. For some reason, your lower half decides to react to that, a warm pool gathering in your belly at his raspiness. You try ignoring it, throwing him an equally groggy grin.

"Hotch," You lean against his doorframe, "You're late too?"

"First and only time," He pledges, "I didn't sleep much last night."

"Neither did I," You mourn, eyes drifting around the room as he grabs his briefcase, "I didn't get to sleep until-"

You don't notice it at first. But there it is, the dreadful painting. The painting you'd seen only hours before, in the background of a porn stream. Of your boss's porn stream, holy shit, your boss is a porn star.

"Y/N?" He ducks down to meet your horrified gaze, eyes dim with worry, "Are you alright?"

You know now where you'd heard his voice. It had proclaimed 'wheels up in thirty,' nearly a thousand times beside your ear, and the sleep tacked onto it this morning matched last night's perfectly.

"Oh my god," You murmur, and Hotch's frown only deepens.

"What? Is something wrong?"

"No!" You barely save yourself, chest heaving slightly as you avoid his concerned gaze, "No. Everything is fine. I just- I remembered it was my friend's birthday yesterday, and I didn't call her."

"Oh," He hums, face barely letting up from its frown, now set for the day, "I hope she understands."

"Yeah." You breathe, turning on your heel and starting down the hallway without waiting for him to shut the door behind himself. He joins you in the elevator without another word and it's to your horror that you realize his sleeves are rolled up, a further reminder of last night that makes something deep below your belly purr.

"Hotch," You keep your eyes on the silver buttons in front of you, "It's cold outside."

"Oh?" He's not sure why you're making casual conversation about the weather amidst a serial killer case, "Are you warm enough?"

"You won't be." You inform him bluntly, "Roll down your sleeves."

He struggles to respond to the command, brows furrowed, "You're absolutely certain you're okay?"

"Yes." You nod at your reflection in the mirror, spouting it like a mantra, "I'm fine. Nothing's wrong."

"Alright," He grumbles, side-eyeing you as he undoes the cuffs of his sleeve, "If you need to talk, you can stop by my room later."

"Thank you," Your sentence is fractured, split by nerves at the idea of sitting where he'd jacked off not even a day earlier. He picks up on the vocal quirk and you know he won't let anything go, but it only worsens as he sets his hand on your lower back to lead you out of the elevator.

"Tonight after the case," He decides, "We'll talk over tea. That's an order, agent."

His words flip your stomach upside down and you nearly collapse in the lobby, but you let him herd you along instead. You're already formulating excuses in your head when you realize you've forgotten to answer, gritting out all you can manage as he leads you by the small of your back, "Perfect."

[violet-moonstone]

vampire au

I hope I get around to writing this eventually because it's all I can think about.

Set in a vaguely Victorian/gothic version of the archipelago

Dagur and Viggo are both rival vampires at the top of their respective covens. Their territories sare right beside each other and often lead to skirmishes and battles.

Viggo believes in keeping a balance between humans and vampires, not out of any sort of empathy or respect, but because he sees the dynamic between their kinds as that of any predator/prey in nature. Also, too much obvious bloodshed will upset the natural balance and have negative repercussions for vampires as well if humans rise against them.

Dagur has no qualms whatsoever about how many humans know about vampires and how cruel he is to humans. In fact, he believes that the more humans know about and fear vampires, the stronger they become, and in fact sees vampires as the closest the world has to gods, if not actually being gods. He welcomes a human-vampire war.

Dagur was once part of Viggo's coven but split off because of his different beliefs.

Hiccup became Viggo's familiar more out of survival than wanting to be a vampire - he was separated or estranged from his family (potentially a family of vampire hunters? Or a local governing family?) and had nowhere left to turn. He was taken in by Viggo and always felt uneasy about helping him capture humans, but Viggo would always give his "balance of nature" speech and remind him that is about about survival, not cruelty.

After some time with Viggo, Hiccup is getting impatient to become a vampire. He knows better than most how easily human bodies can be irreversibly damaged, and he has an intense fear of death after the accident that led to the loss of his leg.

Viggo keeps promising to turn him eventually but doesn't really want to. While he teases Hiccup for his pure-heartedness and innocence, he adores that aspect of his personality, and while Viggo is not religious, he has some vague sense that in turning Hiccup into a vampire, he'll be damning him.

There are countless saucy (nonlethal) blood-drinking scenes between Hiccup and Viggo

Meanwhile, Dagur has been obsessing over Hiccup ever since he became Viggo's familiar. I think at one point Dagur tried to feed on Hiccup (before Dagur split off into his own coven) and Viggo prevented it, which only made Dagur more obsessed. To this day doesn't know if he was planning to kill Hiccup or just have a taste. He can't tell if he wants to drink his blood, claim him as his own familiar, or make him his eternal vampire companion, and it frustrates him to no end.

While Viggo loves Hiccup's innocence and optimism and wants to protect it, Dagur wants Hiccup so he can corrupt him and watch that innocence go up in flames.

In secret, Dagur proposes a plan to Hiccup: he leaves Viggo, pledges himself to Dagur instead and Dagur will make him a vampire. Hiccup is distrustful of this, but is becoming desperate to be a vampire.

Eventually, Hiccup gives Viggo an ultimatum and says he will leave him for Dagur. A huge argument ensues and Viggo banishes Hiccup from his territory, telling him not to return.

Hiccup now has no choice but to go to Dagur, which he does. Upon arriving and remembering how cruel Dagur is to humans and vampires alike, he begins to regret his choice, but it's too late.

And then...I haven't decided what happens next, but I will probably think of more.

Edit - here it is

[theliterarywolf]

What makes it worse is that now another indie animation is going to be under scrutiny. As someone who was talking about the Likes, and how the people were defending it. This random person decided to compare this to a WWII German Leader put in regulations that help pets and animals. And the Animal Rights people should be under scrutiny for that. I was here just shocked that it derailed.

It even derailed as this person talked about Vivzie’s past and the person who liked Transphobe stuff retweeted it.

Anonymous said: as a backer of lackadaisy who is honestly a little pissed. the liked tweets were in support of trans women not being in the same sports leagues as cis women, which the artist did clarify there opinion on but only in their discord. which is NOT the right way to do things and is the reason why there's so much confusion. the same artist was also passive aggressive to vizie and is possibly the one who had her pledge removed. which ok I get it, viziepop has baggage. Some of the staff was probably uncomfortable having her name attached, but maybe they should have talked it out instead of canceling it outright. I try to not care about internet discourse anymore but if this artist continues to be unprofessional as hell with no consequences I may stop supporting the project.

Anonymous said: I actually saw the start of the LD/Viv drama. Good to see it spiralled deep into the shit. As for the transphobic tweets, I went and searched the LD member's twitter myself after the callout to double check and they were right in the likes. Both tweets saying that trans women should basically not be allowed to compete in sports alongside cis women and there should be a separate division.

I'm grouping all of these together as one final discussion window for the whole thing, especially now that we have an official 'apology-that's-not-really-an-apology' from the LD team.

You know what the biggest round-up of all of this could be written as?

Keep people's names out of your God damn mouths if you haven't mentally matured past 13.

Because, again, none of this should have ever gotten to the point that it did. And now the LD team making official non-statements about the whole thing basically amounts to nothing.

And, honestly, I saw someone on Twitter put it best: congratulations, fuckface, you've now put it in people's minds to think thrice about donating to independent animation projects.

[silversiren1101]

Idk if you've been asked before, but I'm really curious now! What was the dynamic between Minovae and Regill like when they first met?

Oh gods congratulations you've asked the one question I myself haven't really solidified yet.

Right now, the working dynamic for when they first met: nonexistent.

The First Year

Minovae's circumstances for pledging herself as an armiger are pretty drastic - she truly saw it as one last ditch effort to save the burning trash heap that was her life. Even if she couldn't scrape together a meaningful existence for herself in this shitty world, she could at least die trying to end the war burning Cheliax to the ground- die trying to make it a better place for someone else.

She is very withdrawn and private upon first becoming an armiger. The reputation of the Hellknights then was a little different (not really associated with actual devils because that came with backing the Thrunes in the later half of the war), but they were still the frightening, harsh knights that took Law and Justice into their own hands. They gave up comfort and autonomy of their own lives for the cause of Order at all costs - which spoke to her because with someone telling her what to do, then she couldn't fuck it up so bad anymore, right? She knew better than try to buddy up with anyone else, deciding to just keep her head down and 'do this right because you haven't done anything right in your life ever. ' Also she's been tossed aside by everyone she's ever dared grown close to. A group of reserved knights that only care about duty (from the outside)? Perfect for her at this point.

She notes Regill's existence there pretty immediately - 'oh, another chaotically inclined ancestry is here, that's kind of... comforting' but she doesn't approach him because she's not going to approach anyone. He's not as cold at this time but also keeps to himself, and his reaction to seeing her on the lineup that first day is actually a bit of dread: 'Ugh, hope she doesn't bother me because she sees me as some type of kinship."

They kind of just exist around each other during training exercises, barracks life, getting to vaguely know of each other as you do when in the same group. Some moments that stick out:

He ends up being impressed by her diligence and commitment: Minovae doesn't just read the Measure, the studies it pretty in-depth to the point where she develops a very strong personal interpretation of it alongside the Chain. The only thing? She's not exactly educated. There's a lot of complicated words and terminology in that codex, and her copy of the Measure is marked up with tons of notes in the margins, circled words, and other leaflets shoved into it that have definitions or interpretations of things she didn't understand or couldn't read. There's a few times he passes by the library late at night and she's in there, studying, or she has her notes in the barracks. I have a pretty distinct scene of where she's exhausted, hand holding her head up where she circles yet another word, feeling pretty defeated and low because this is the 6th one in a few minutes. He passes by and casually says it aloud, defines it, then moves on. She would stare at him and feel immensely appreciative, but that's really all. It means a lot to her that she isn't belittled for not being able to read very well (yet) and he admires her work ethic and attempts.

She admires his complete nonreaction to prejudice against him and how equally he treats everyone (meritocracy and harshly)

Regill does not treat her (or any of the other 'atypical' recruits like tieflings) any differently for being what they are. While most of the other armigers do, and she is so used to it, it's a breath of fresh air to be treated based on your actions and deeds than because of you have a tail and some scales. The majority of the veteran/ranked Hellknights also do not care and do not treat her differently because of how much the Orders are a meritocracy, but it's especially nice working with and then under the direct order of someone who sees her for her skills and experience more than anything else.

She also is incredibly impressed and aspires to be as nonreactive to prejudice against her like he is. He's a gnome, yes? And? So what? He proves time and time again that that does not matter, and you are a fool for thinking it does.

So when do they actually appear on each other's radar more?

Minovae's "Trial".

For those less familiar with Pathfinder lore, an armiger is a pledge to the orders. Armiger training usually lasts a minimum of 2 years and is entirely voluntary, you can leave. When you are 'ready' to become an actual Hellknight, you submit yourself to the trial which is a 1 v 1 fight against a summoned devil, usually a barbazu but can be a more powerful devil depending on the skill of the armiger.

There is a clause in Trial rules though: any Hellknight of rank that observes an armiger fighting a devil without aid, or survives a battle that reasonably would count as a sufficient Trial, they can vouch for that armiger and submit it as an official Trial (in the game, this is how Regill justifies the fight with Nulkineth as sufficient 'trial' for the Knight Commander to become a Hellknight).

Only a year after pledging herself, Minovae is still an armiger but Regill has passed his own trial and become a Hellknight. Their unit, led by a Maralictor, is ambushed by enemy Thrune devil-binders that results in the death of their Maralictor and a few of the other armigers, leaving Regill the only ranked Hellknight and thus their acting commander. They are trapped by a warding glyph specifically tuned to Lawful alignments, but by virture of Minovae being chaos-blooded (more so than a gnome, as a ganzi) she is able to push through without being instantly incinerated.

An Osyluth (bone devil) manifests on the other side and congratulates her, and says it will make her death fast as reward. Realizing she's dead either way, she prepares for a fight to the death, the goal being if she can at least get this ward down the others can get away and live on. Her own life is not a factor in the equation anymore. It's a vicious fight: she cuts off her own tail with the edge of her shield to keep the devil's venom from traveling up and into her body to stay standing longer... ultimately she slays it only because she clasps holy bombs in her shield hand, shoves her arm down its throat, wedging her shield there, and then brings her hammer down on top of its head to smash the bombs still in her grasp.

Regill, watching and helpless to do anything, sees everything a knight should be about: duty, selfless sacrifice, commitment to the goal at all costs and without concern for the self. She could have attempted to run. She could have begged for her life. She could have sold them out.

Instead, she flipped down her helmet and dropped into an offensive stance before the devil had even finished speaking out. He saw her look directly at him and mouth at him to "get them out of here" right before she blew up her own arm in the devil's mouth, which she most assuredly believed would be her death.

Using the clause of the Trial he orders far more healing resources used on her than is permitted to the save the life of an armiger, and orders her to stay conscious and alive: "Do you want to die an armiger? Or live to be a Hellknight?"

Three days later when she regains consciousness after being Restored, she chases him down in the halls and thanks him. He looks at her dryly and comments she has nothing to thank him for, he was merely following protocol. She calls him out for it, says no, he wasn't, he didn't have to do that and he didn't have to expend so many resources on someone who anyone else would've seen as a lost cause with those injuries, so he better accept her thanks.

It’s the first time in her life someone has chosen her, in a sense, and she’s not about to let it go unacknowledged. 

"...As you wish. You are welcome, Knight Arangeir."

Both being Hellknights at that point, they end up working very closely together for the rest of the war.

[pozzonero]

Book 'em.

I wrote the following on 12/2/23. It seemed to me that since the callout - in the absence of information or proof - people had been rushing to judgment at breakneck speed. The only thing that might slow them down was knowledge of Simona's self-published books, which I had obtained from Amazon. Their content, their tone, and their author's (worrying) state of mind might slow the kneejerk reflex and put her current campaign of hatred into perspective.

Did you know the blogger involved in the callout against Ethan Torchio self-published three books about him? Neither did I, until a week ago. While the mutual who hipped me to this fact drew the line at sharing book titles or links, they said that she was listed on Amazon and left me to do my due diligence.

Which I did.

If You Knew the Harm I Wanted to Do to You (published Feb. 2021) chronicles a doomed romance between two kids - not even vent'anni! - during the summer after COVID lockdown. Everything's magical until their differences surface. He's elusive, the cerebral type who retreats when pressed about his emotions. She's effusive, a people-pleaser deeply afraid of abandonment. It's a classic doom dynamic with a predictable outcome. What began in July is over by December, at which time poetry - bitter, grieving, poignant, and profane - arrives to fill the void. I'm not going to reproduce it here, but suffice to say, it punched the everloving breath out of me.

When the person you've decided is your other half does not conclude the same about you, the pain can be all-encompassing. The poet both misses and reviles her "first and only love"; she alternates between wistful odes to his beauty and withering criticisms of his failure to recognize their destiny together. How do we know his identity? Scattered clues point the way. He has long, beautiful hair which she worships with Song-of-Solomon intensity, tiny scars on his cheek and forehead, crooked teeth he self-consciously hides, and a fleeting nervous tic. He loves astronomy, so the poet tucks celestial metaphors here and there to show she's been alert to his interests. She also pledges to try and accept his irrefrenabile libertà - ostensibly his long-held belief in free love - so long as he submits to an embrace that grows tighter and more possessive as the pages turn. From this book's bone-chilling title, we can easily guess where that leads.

Anger Will Keep My Memory of You Alive (Aug. 2021) is dedicated as follows: A te, E, che temi l'amore. A me, che temo il dolore ("To you, E, who are afraid of love. To me, who is afraid of pain"). Whereas the cover of If You Knew features a hand delicately cupping a rose, this one's covered in snapshots of the poet in blood-and-bruise makeup, heralding a change of tone-- less pining, more rage. In a salvo of free-verse lines as sharp-tipped as darts, she skewers her ex (now a world-famous rockstar) and fumes over the fact that he seems wholly unaware of his punishment. I bet you haven't even read the book I wrote for you, she taunts. I bet that book scares you like hell. For all its language of obsession, this one might scare him more.

Add Another Gram (Sept. 2021) is styled like a self-help book, with Instagram-friendly motivational graphics about self-worth and self-reflection. Its title refers to emotional dependency, which the poet now declares the source of her suffering. Her valiant mission: to explore her own anxious attachment and abandonment issues with a mind to freeing herself from the cycle. This includes reviewing her failed relazione (which she has downgraded - after much pain, I'm certain - to a 'frequentazione') and attempting to make peace with it (and him) in her soul. Ultimately she acknowledges that despite the pain her emotional addiction generates, her effort is not hopeless. If she's lost perspective, she's fighting hard to gain it back.

Reading this, I felt a wave of relief for her. Thank god, I thought. She's healing. Silly me, I forgot-- this book is two years old. At present, her IG account has just been suspended (again) for incitamento all’odio - hate speech - against men. In an early post, she identified as misandrica (man-hater), adding, Questa parola è mia amica e la rivendico con un orgoglio smisurato ("This word is my friend and I claim it with immeasurable pride.") Later posts sizzle with a level of loathing reminiscent of Valerie Solanas' S.C.U.M. Manifesto. But unlike Solanas (who used an actual bullet to take down a famous man), this revolutionary is open to other, more clandestine methods of assassination. Recently she launched a campaign to establish a worldwide, crowd-sourced, underground registry of abusers. Three guesses whose name will be first on the list.

Is she the author of the anonymous callout? If so, she's come a long way, baby. These are serious charges directed at a person toward whom she harbors a hostility both documented in her own words and published by her own hand.  Her grudge against Ethan Torchio is on Amazon-- how much more 'on the record' can you get?

If we go by the books, what are the charges? According to her, he was too detached. He expressed thoughts more easily than feelings. He always held a part of himself back. Even though her emotions were often a frightening force majeure, she wanted him to want to match her, feeling for feeling. He couldn't, or wouldn't. In an effort to detach, he engaged in sketchy behavior-- alternating warm affection and cool evasion, closeness and distance. And while his irrefrenabile libertà was tolerable in the abstract, the reality of it shattered the relationship. He moved on with greater ease than she did, triggering an avalanche of pain. In short, he acted like a nineteen-year-old asshole. But that's not a reportable crime, contrary to the beliefs of countless fangirls. And the most serious allegations from the callout are nowhere to be found between these covers.

What's left? Despite my alarm at her actions, the experience of reading her words made me feel intense sympathy and sorrow for the poet. How this Promising Young Woman got from there to here is a sad, difficult, challenging line to trace. But it IS traceable. I have had close friends in my life who suffered in the same way and for the same reasons; they taught me that for some, love - unrequited, rejected, or attempted and failed - can be more than a temporary grief. It's pure psychic torment that takes a lifetime of labor to keep in check. For the poet I wish an escape from its snare. May she someday experience a libertà of her own.

Now you see them...

In mid-December 2023, I decided to delete all mention of Simona from my main blog. Given that most fans seemed disinclined to risk their online reputations over this debate, it seemed futile to pursue it. All I felt I could do was leave behind Simona's full name and the titles of her books in case anyone cared to pursue them.

One week later, she removed all of them from Amazon.

In my X travels, it appeared that while a number of people knew of the existence of the books, few had read them. As controversy grew, Simona may have become alarmed by the uptick in discussion of her poems, the details of which contradicted her allegations against Ethan. Furthermore, her own words revealed a weaker, more dependent version of today's iron-hard, relentless Simona-- and that would never do. Making her books unavailable must have seemed the best form of pre-emptive damage control.

While I could not distribute Simona's texts without violating copyright law, I COULD summarize and review them in a public forum. I decided to post commentary on X as frequently as I could in the hopes that people would see through her gaslighting and revisionism. But here on Tumblr it was another matter.

[butmakeitgayblog]

My Best Friend’s Wedding

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Lexa! Sweet cheeks! It's Clarke. Duh. Obviously. But listen, um, I know it's been… oh, God, what? Two months? Three maybe? Something like that… But I need you to call me. Like. Actually call me. There's something I really need to talk to you about… And I miss you, of course. So much. I hope you're doing alright on your fancy book tour, Miss Big Shot… Alright, well I'm gonna shut up now. But seriously. Call. Me. Day or night, I don’t care. I've got my ringer all the way up, so no excuses... 'Kay. I love you. Bye."

Smiling down at her phone after the third run through of the message, Lexa clicked to save it and then backed out to her list of contacts. 

"Hey, are you even listening to me, you pretentious twat?"

"Fuck off, Anya."

"Well I'd love to, except you've vetoed my every suggestion and I'm hungry."

"That was Clarke," she mumbled, scrolling through her recent calls and frowning when she realized how just far down she had to go to reach the name she was looking for.

"Ah," Anya hummed. "The ever elusive Clarke."

"'Elusive'," Lexa snorted. "Hardly. Clarke's been in my life since we were teenagers."

"Well I've been working for you for over a year now and still haven't met her. I'm beginning to think she's fake. You sure you haven't been catfished?"

Rolling her eyes, Lexa clicked over to her social media and thumbed through old posts until she found the one she was looking for. Younger versions of their smiling faces glowed up from the lit screen that she unceremoniously shoved under her editor’s nose.

"Freshmen rush week. We got partnered up for this stupid scavenger hunt thing that literally just turned out to be a ploy to get the girls wanting to pledge to buy all the crap for a party and set it up."

"Smart."

"It was a pain in the ass," Lexa corrected, bringing the phone back to her chest and lazily scrolling through more photos as they walked. "But we had so much fun together that day… We actually started dating like a month after that was taken."

"Dating? I thought-"

"Oh no. No. We're just friends now. Best friends."

"Why did I not know about the dating thing?"

"Because it was kind of a mess," Lexa chuckled. "I mean don't get me wrong. The feelings were all there. And we were great together… And the sex was phenomenal."

"There it is."

"But the timing was all wrong," she sighed. "I was so intense about school and moving on to getting my masters. And she was insanely focused on art and that whole scene. Which I loved so much about her… But yeah, it just… didn't mesh with the path I was on at the time."

"Sssso what I’m hearing is," Anya slowly surmised, "you were a pretentious twat and dumped her."

"No, I was focused. Which you should be grateful for considering your employment kind of benefits from that… And besides, she understood... She always understands."

"Which is hard to do with your brooding ass."

"That's why she's my best friend," Lexa stressed, shooting the woman a narrow-eyed glare. "We get each other when no one else does. "

"So you broke up and really just decided to be friends?"

"Sort of. We’d only been together for like three months, but it was… It was special,” Lexa hummed, smiling down at a younger love-drunk version of herself. “When I told her I couldn't handle everything between us on top of school, but that I couldn’t imagine not having her in my life, she just smiled at me… and promised me we'd never lose each other. That was all that mattered. Then we kissed. And cried. And held each other as we promised to always find our way back to each other.” 

Lexa released a slow breath as she backed out of the app, scrolling back to her contact list and finding Clarke’s name again.

“Ever since then we’ve gotten through everything together. Break-ups, and career bullshit. Just figuring out how to be adults.” Lexa smiled and shook her head as she hit the call button. “It doesn’t matter how much time passes, whenever either of us needs the other, we’re there. We’re each other’s person, ya know?”

A shoulder nudged her as they wound their way down the crowded avenue, Lexa peeking out of the corner of her eye to catch Anya’s smirk.

“That’s actually kind of sweet,” Anya said. “Gay as all hell, but kind of sweet.”

“I’m calling her, she sounded pretty desperate to talk, so-"

"Maybe she's calling to declare her undying love."

"Shut up, it's ringing."

Lexa felt her stomach twist with each chime in her ear, hands steady but nerves zinging as an extra bounce decorated her step. Biting her lip as she glanced at the passing faces around her, she shoved a hand into the back pocket of her cut-off jeans and-

"Lexa!"

She yanked the phone away from her ear for a second at the shrill shout of her name, the ragged yelp of that voice still managing to settle warmly in her chest despite it’s ringing decibel. 

Bringing the phone back to her ear, Lexa released a breathless laugh as she spoke. "Hey, love."

"Hey, love," Anya mocked beside her, grunting at the elbow she received to her stomach. 

"You finally called me," Clarke huffed, the brilliant light of her smile caring effortlessly through her voice. "I've been trying to get ahold of you for two weeks, you bum."

Lexa squeaked out an indignant laugh, clutching an unseen hand to her chest in mock hurt. "Excuse you? I have been-"

"On a book tour, I know, I know." 

Lexa could practically hear the roll of blue eyes from two states away.

"I always knew you were meant for big things, Woods."

"Oh my, is that a euphemism? Are you getting fresh with me, Ms. Griffin?"

"This is disgusting," Anya drawled beside her. 

"You know it, sweet cheeks."

Lexa bit her lip at the husky tone floating over the line, doing her best to temper the explosion of a smile as everything within settled for the first time in months. 

Because this is them. How they always were and would be; the depth of their connection being measured in units of respect and affection, rather than anything as plebeian as miles. 

"But, um," Clarke cleared her throat and continued, Lexa imagining her tugging her ear in that familiar, nervous habit. "I actually called you for a reason."

"I'm choosing to not be offended that you'd call for any other reason than to hear the beauty of my voice."

"Ha ha. Although, it is great to hear your voice. I always miss you, you know that, Lex… But no. This is something more exciting, if you can believe that. And… And I needed you to know. So, just, be serious for a second."

Lexa swallowed down the lump rising in her throat. "Okay, hit me with it."

"... I'm getting married."

And then the entire world crashing down around her.

Quite literally. 

At the moment her heart squeezed so tight she felt as though she couldn't breathe, Lexa's feet tangled around themselves as she took a fumbling step down from the curb, her knees giving out entirely on the cattywampus landing and sending her face first into the middle of the street. Despite the reflex of her body being to catch herself, her arms shot out wildly and failed her spectacularly. 

With a resounding "Oof," and possibly a broken rib later, Lexa hit the pavement as her phone skidded out of her hand and across the asphalt. Heart pounding in horror at the sight, she ground the craggy fragments of grit further into the scraps on her palms to shoot up and run after it.

Snatching the phone up from the middle of the crosswalk, Lexa threw a standard reflexive middle finger up over her shoulder to whoever had honked as she hurriedly pulled the phone back up to her ear.

"Clarke?"

"Lexa!" Clarke yelled for what was possibly the last if several times. 

"Yeah!" Lexa breathlessly chirped at her, blindly walking back out of the street as she tried to pull herself together. "Yes! I'm here!"

"What the hell happened?"

She swallowed at the distressed sound of Clarke's voice, plastering a painfully fake smile over her face. "Uh, nothing. I'm good. Hey, um. Can you uh. Can you repeat what you said before?"

"Are you sure you're okay? What happened? It sounded like an earthquake."

"Just technical difficulties, it's fine. Can you repeat what you said?"

A silent beat passed between them.

"... I'm getting married," Clarke said again, a nervous twist coloring her words, though Lexa couldn't tell if it was from the message or worry lingering for her well-being. 

Not that she could focus on any sound other than the jagged, cacophonous thunder that echoed the splintering of her heart. 

"Married?" she sputtered, pressing a soothing hand to her forehead despite the rough grit that still lingered. "What are you-... I didn't even know you were seeing anyone."

"I know, I know," Clarke sighed, Lexa picturing the rueful shake of her blonde head. "It- it's… sudden. But it's just one of those things, you know?"

"Um… not really," Lexa nervously swallowed, slipping into the curve seat of a bus stop bench as she fought back a strange feeling of dread. 

"We met at a gallery opening a couple months ago. Like right after you left for your tour, actually. It was one of those 'friend of a friend needs bodies at their opening to make them feel legit' type deals."

"You hate those."

"I do," Clarke agreed immediately. "But there was this guy, and he just-"

"A guy?"

"Yeah. His name's Finn, and I think you'll love him."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll have a lot of feelings about Finn."

"What?"

"What?"

"What did you say?"

"I don't remember. Listen, Clarke," Lexa fumbled, fanning a hand in front of her face to help clear away the inexplicable heat building behind her eyes. "Don't you think this is kind of… You're getting married?"

"Yes. In three days, and I need you here."

"Three days?!" Lexa yelped, her eyes wildly shooting around her as though that would help her find some semblance of sanity in this conversation. 

"Yeah," Clarke sighed. "I wanted to wait until-… But he's got a show in Portland next month so we figured, well, why not just get it done. He doesn’t really have a big family, and most of mine live close anyway. So it’s not really a huge deal, I just need someone to help me throw everything together. And you know there’s no one I trust more than you."

"Don't you think we should talk about this first?" Lexa cut in weakly, dropping her head in her palm as she leaned forward on her knees. "I mean… I mean, it's us, Clarke. We always talk this stuff out."

"I know, that's why I need you here, Lex." Lexa let her eyes drift close at the pleading gentleness of Clarke's voice. "I can't do this without you by my side… I mean just the idea of getting married without you holding my hand is..."

"I know," Lexa whispered, pulling her lips between her teeth to stop the flow of words fighting against the lump in her throat.

"So you're coming? You'll be here?" Clarke said with a renewed giddy-pop to her voice. 

Face screwed up in a grimace as she felt her heart crack open, Lexa nodded. "Of course I will, love. I'll take a red-eye tonight."

Lexa pulled the phone away from her ear again at the joyous yelp that rang through the line, smiling despite herself at the sound. 

"Oh my God, thank you, thank you, thank you," Clarke crooned. "Okay, this is perfect. If you'd have said no, I- I don't even know what I would've done. I would've been heartbroken… Not to mention l would've had to have cousin Beth as my maid-of-honor, and you know what a shit show that would've been."

"I'm glad I could at least save you from that disaster."

"As you always do, sweet cheeks," Clarke hummed in that familiar sultry way that always made Lexa feel like she was burning alive. "I'm so excited, I can't wait to see you... I've missed you so much."

"I miss you too, Clarke…"

The line was quiet for a moment, Lexa swallowing at the intensity coloring her own words. 

Clarke clearing her throat pulled Lexa out of her reverie. "Listen, babe, I gotta go. We're doing this dinner thing with his family tonight, it’s a whole deal since they just flew in. But text me your flight info and I'll pick you up in the morning."

"I can just take a car-"

"Shut it, Woods. You're not depriving me of the chance to make a scene in an airport."

Rolling her eyes with a begrudging smile, Lexa simply sighed and nodded. "Okay, I'll text you when I have the details."

"Okay. Good. I'll see you tomorrow… God how long has it been since we've gotten to say that?"

“Too long.”

“I’m so excited. I really can’t wait to see you.”

“You said that already.”

“And I’ll say it again, smartass, don’t test me.”

"I thought you had to go?"

"Right. Shit,” Clarke hissed. “Okay, I'm actually going now. But I’ll see you in the morning. Love you."

"I love you too."

Lexa pulled the phone away as the line went silent as a hollow feeling of misery settled in her bones. Setting the phone down on the bench beside her with perhaps more force than was safe for the integrity of her screen, she flopped back in her seat, stinging eyes turning toward the sky as her jaw clenched with a choked whimper.

The light shift of weight settling beside her barely registered.

"You alright?"

"No,” she choked out, her throat aching with each swell of emotion.

"What happened?" Anya asked, Lexa feeling the burn in her chest double at the foreign gentleness coloring her friend's question. 

Tipping her head forward again, Lexa stared out at the bustle of the city street in front of them. 

"... The end of the world."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Coming soon to AO3

[athys-obelia]

of swords and rubies

synopsis: on athanasia de alger obelia's eighteenth birthday, she sits in the ruby palace awaiting her father's present - a sweet little mandate sentencing her to death. the news his personal guard arrives with, though, is quite the different from what she expects.

character/s: athanasia de alger obelia, claude de alger obelia, felix robane

part: one / ?

warning/s: mentions of death / execution, poisoning, tlp!claude is a shit dad, tlp!felix supremacy

|•| ruby palace |•| 10:45 am |•|

"a visitor from the emperor's place, your highness."

lilian york's voice has always carried the same gentleness. for as long as she can remember, athanasia has heard softness, music, safety, in lily - the voice of a mother. the realisation, long overdue, hits her as she inquires after her mysterious guest. i've never addressed lily as such, have i?

the brunette tries for a smile. "it is his majesty's personal guard, princess, sir felix from the robane duchy. i have hannah showing him to the visitors' lounge - perhaps the knight comes bearing good news?"

the blonde princess smiles, nodding hopefully. it's all she can do for lily, she guesses, the woman who cared for her like one of her own. just as lily's smile never dimmed once during the past eighteen years, athanasia supposes she must now return the favour.

but lily never saw her father's eyes that night.

lily hadn't seen his stance harden at the mere sight of her.

the malice, the poison in claude de alger obelia's voice wasn't directed at lily.

so lily couldn't possibly know. for all athanasia knows claude could be in his study, spinning a roulette wheel to decide how to have her executed. he'd want her gone by the earliest, she assumes, probably before jennette can wake and intercede for her - or evidence is found towards the actual culprit.

either way, if the least she could do was comfort lily somewhat with a little, hopeful smile, then the smile would be priority.

|•| ruby palace |•| 11:00 am |•|

  "sir," athanasia greets, recoiling as the knight grins at her. she'd heard stories of the atmosphere in the imperial palace, the deceptive, snake-like nature of noble court - surely, with a father so prominent in both politics and obelia's military, felix robane was one to be vary of.

and - being her father's personal guard would require being similarly ruthless and cunning, would it not? this smiley knight could always be the one poisoning her father against her behind their backs.

  "to what do i owe this pleasure?"

the redhead attempts lightening the mood with another bright grin. "greetings to the star of the obelian empire. may the gods' blessings be with you, princess. today, i have come as a messenger regarding his majesty's wish that you join him for breakfast-"

  "-wh, what? no, i... i'm not going anywhere with you."

felix robane's natural smile falls. "what is it, princess?"

athanasia steps backwards in defense as the knight tries comforting her, a trembling hand raised to cover her mouth. "y-you can tell his majesty i won't...won't be joining him."

  "but, princess-"

not daring to move her eyes from the redhead, athanasia reaches for an hourglass resting on the mantle beside her, holding it up in defense. "go back. go and tell the emperor to send me the death warrant himself. there's no need to build such a roundabout way of-"

felix grimaces. "you may be misunderstanding the situation, prin-"

  "-don't 'princess' me. if he has the guts, have my father tell me his decision himself. you can't force me to leave. i won't, i won't be led out of my home with you pretending as if everything is fine."

the knight holds up his hands in surrender. "you have the higher status of the two of us, your highness, i wouldn't dare pushing you into anything you do not like. i'm afraid you cannot refute the emperor's word, however. but...but if your highness has questions, i can promise to answer with complete honesty."

  "how can i trust you?"

felix taps his chin in thought. "as a knight, my value is measured not by my skill, but the trust put in me by those i am pledged to. my oath is to the obelian emperor. you, princess, are his majesty's heir, so as along as your commands do not undermine the emperor's, you are included in the oath."

athanasia blinks, studying the knight. he seems to be curling into himself so as to not be percieved as a threat. she watches his careful movements, irate. "i read a book once..." she starts, feeling self conscious all of sudden. do i sound like a madwoman?

felix robane nods eagerly. "i was told the princess was an avid reader."

she flushes, glaring at her lap. "...anyway, in the book, the king's sister married a traitor, and because they were technically royalty, he couldn't just kill them under charges of treason. so instead, the king had their food poisoned."

athanasia watches the subtext register on the knight's face. "your highness...no, i- his majesty has no such thing planned. i can assure you - the matter is actually quite the opposite."

  "...is it?"

he stares at his lap before looking up at her determinedly. "i can't say i know how your highness feels about your father, but...he needs you right now." felix sighs softly, "as you know, her highness the princess jennette hasn't yet regained consciousness. this makes you his majesty's most favourable heir."

athanasia stares at the hourglass in her hand before setting it down. interest piqued, she eyes the fidgeting knight. "why would you bring this up, sir robane, and to me of all people? is the emperor perhaps...ill?"

the look in the redhead's eyes is more than enough confirmation. athanasia grips the arm of her seat. "he has been having the strangest migraines ever since...well, a little after your debut, actually. except lately, these headaches seem to be weakening him. quite a lot."

a cold sweat creeping up her neck, athanasia downs a glass of water before turning to the distressed knight. "i assume you want my assistance in hiding this from the nobles. since jennette isn't here."

  "essentially, yes." he nods once more. "with all the commotion surrounding princess jennette, both the nobles and commoners are watching the palace diligently. the factions are too divided - of course, a large portion of the nobles support princess jennette as your father's heir, most of them being blood purists, while an equally large believe you are more competent, having been raised in the palace. regrettably, it isn't just the nobles - we have a delegation arriving at the palace soon enough to settle matters regarding the southern territory. we cannot afford weakening his majesty's image, not right now."

her eyes flicker to the obelian coat of arms on felix's shoulder, and the sigil of house robane embroidered on his cloak. "i don't suppose i have much of choice in the matter - but since urgency of the situation affects my country, i doubt i would've refused anyway. but, sir felix..." she pauses, studying his expression, "my father's palace doesn't garuntee my safety. so i must call on your oath as a knight now."

  "of course, your highness." hesitantly, as if he held a china doll in his hands, felix murmurs, "it can be a chance to get closer to his majesty, too. er - that is, if only your highness wishes it to be."

nodding, athanasia stares at her hands. "...perhaps."

|•| emperor's palace |•| 3:00 pm |•|

with her father's stare scrutinising her every move, she bows deeply in greeting.

his gaze is different, athanasia notices. the malice is gone. the hatred has dissipated.

now, as if she were a complicated math problem, claude de alger obelia stares her down, a spark of challenge alight in his eyes. "don't worry your head too much about it," he starts, "i haven't called you here for any special reason."

"...i see."

he tilts his head curiously, studying her reactions still. "oh? what's this? no declarations of love today? no pleading for attention? you're strangely quiet for someone so full of demands."

she fidgets with her dress, a deep red blooming on her cheeks in embarrassment. "i apologise if my words troubled your majesty."

claude nods slowly, eyes tracing her unkempt hair. "you overestimate yourself, princess."

athanasia inhales sharply. what does he want?

"felix's method of conveying information is a bit... exaggerated, at times," the blonde emperor says, watching her grimace under his stare, "i'm here to clear up any misunderstandings he may have unknowingly planted."

"ye, yes?"

claude's hand lands on his sheathed sword. athanasia blood freezes as he pulls it out, slowly, eyes not moving from hers. "i'm assuming you've been told of the council being held tomorrow. it will be your unofficial entrance into politics, so i hope there won't be any...mistakes. you'll need the nobility's support."

she nearly snorts. you wouldn't hesitate in burying anyone who dared look jennette in the eyes, i'm sure. still, athanasia tries smiling - lily always smiled whenever she was unsure of what to say, after all - and lets go of her skirt, nodding. "there won't be any."

the last time she spoke to her father, she'd known that whether or not he decided on mercy, she wouldn't be talking to him again. thus the courage to empty her heart, lighten her shoulders. now... now, athanasia didn't know what to think. how to act.

she flinches when he speaks, hands tracing the edge of the blade lightly. "do think this sword is important to me, athanasia?"

an odd warmth courses through her at the sound of her name. or was it because of the voice, the owner of the voice? she honestly couldn't tell. "your majesty..." athanasia swallows - what's the right answer? - "i would assume so. i'm no knight, of course...but, a sword is effective for both defense and offense in battle. and i hear your majesty's swordsmanship is unrivaled in obelia, so...yes, i think."

she watches claude draw in a long breath, staring at the weapon. "it's interesting that you think so. but at the end of the day, the sword is just another weapon, isn't it? i can always have better ones at the flick of my wrist."

"your...majesty?"

a drop of blood runs down the emperor's finger as he runs it along the edge of the blade. "it is useful, isn't it? at least...as long as i decide it is. a simple tool's value will always be decided by me, after all."

cold dread settles into athanasia's bones. "i...i see, sire."

nodding approvingly, claude de alger obelia places the beautiful sword in her hands. "happy birthday, princess."

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Scream Queens Ep 6 "Seven Minutes in Hell" (Note: Offensive content, use at own discretion)

Everyone would immediately assume the killer is me.

Are you one of those idiot savants who's heavy on the idiot, light on the savant?

I am simply a victim of my times.

Are you aware your pants are on backwards?

Then whose fault is it?

I am never talking about anything ever again!

Yeah, super sorry about what happened down there.

Why are you laughing?

What about that fit you threw down there?

You're not mad at me?

Oh, I meant everything I said about you.

I still think you're useless. I'm just not sad about it.

You never, ever want to be the boss in a time of extreme crisis.

As soon as you become the boss, you get a target on your back, from the feds, the other families, ambitious underlings.

Sure, seems like you have all the power, but you also take on the most risk.

Oh, don't judge me for trying to stay alive.

Do not give an inch.

What's your game here?

I trust you about as far as I can throw you.

I know we don't know who the killer is, but we know it traces back to this house.

There are two things that always happen at a slumber party; someone experiments with lesbianism and secrets are revealed.

We can create situations and scenarios to really prime the pump.

We'll lock everybody up overnight, and we're bound to find out something.

A slumber party sounds fun.

Let's play spin the bottle.

Someone always goes lesbian.

We're playing spin the damn bottle.

Why spin the bottle?

That is not a nasty rumor. That is a true rumor.

So I propose a panty raid.

You taste like wax.

I guess we have to kiss.

You're a great kisser.

Was I interrupting you?

I was just practicing looking disinterested.

I'm pretty sure I was born without that part of the brain that actually feels stuff.

We have so much in common.

I'm starting to think we have something very important and specific in common.

My sex life up until this point is what you'd call unusual.

I think the only way to be sure of your feelings is if you let me gently rub your uterus right now.

When I love someone, it drives them insane.

Believe me when I say that if it was possible for me to feel anything I would totally be crying right now.

That doesn't seem healthy.

All the doors are locked solid. Windows, too. Upstairs and down.

I decided to have the whole house turned into a panic room.

But wait, doesn't that mean that there's some sort of switch somewhere to deactivate it?

I hate being trapped in small places.

There's only one reason why the killer would do something like this-- to pick us off one by one.

Guess it's just a matter of time before one of us or all of us ends up dead.

You have to help us.

Look, I'm prepared to say I'm sorry I did that.

What I'm not prepared to do is say the sex was bad.

Yeah. I'm not gonna apologize for that one.

I'm about to get murdered, so can you please just hang up and get over here?

How on earth are we supposed to get in if all the doors and windows are locked?

Dude, we climb up the ladder, break the windows upstairs, save all the girls, climb back down, then it's vagina city for all of us.

Why would you bomb-proof upstairs windows? For what, like, a flying bomb?

Don't be an idiot.

It's hero time.

Save me and I'm yours forever.

I'm not really sure I'm ready for that level of commitment.

Break the glass!

Stand back, fair maiden.

Give him the dignity of watching him die.

Someone in this house definitely knows who the killer is.

It's truth or dare time.

Whatever it takes to stop the douche that's trying to kill everybody.

I mean, do you ever just stop and ask yourself if we can actually pull this off?

Maybe we all just need to get out of here.

The best way to avoid a shark attack is to not go in the water.

We all have a crisis of faith sometimes.

Maybe you're hiding something.

I'd pick truth and then just lie.

If you want to lie, you can just pick dare.

That's the whole point of truth or dare. You can't lie.

Does your vagina have teeth?

I'm not lying.

My vagina doesn't have teeth.

Does your vagina still have teeth?

So it used to have teeth, but you got them removed?

So your vagina still has teeth.

Sounds like you're trapped in a web of lies.

You're forfeiting your turn, bitch.

Okay, I guess it's my turn, then.

You promised you wouldn't tell.

Sorry. I had to tell the truth.

Of course you're the killer.

I propose we take a little break, You know, take a whiz, get a refill.

You know what? I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ever trusted you.

I wanted to talk about the other thing you said, about how you thought you had feelings for me.

The only feelings I have for you now are rage and pissed offedness.

Now go sit in that bathtub and think about what you've done. And try not to rub one out, okay?

Come on! I said I was sorry!

If anybody's down here, please don't jump out at me.

Is that blood?

Wait. If you're gonna kill me, at least show me who you are first.

I knew it. I knew it was you.

Please. You don't have to do this. I could help you.

There's never any food in there. Just laxatives.

I got the impression that you and I are on the verge of being the next "it" couple.

See, this is the problem with texting, you know? You can't hear the context.

Even though I decided to not wear a bra, you haven't been staring at my shirt raisins once.

Okay, look, I was waiting to talk to you about this 'cause secretly I was hoping you'd be killed and I wouldn't have to hurt your feelings.

I just don't think it would work out with us.

You're nuts, and not like a typical crazy-eyes co-ed, but wake-up-with-my penis-in-a-jar lunatic.

I love space mountain. Best ride at Disneyland. But I love my penis more.

Number one-- I never take second place. And number two-- I don't stop till I get what I want.

Was that salad spinner hitting on you?

I am super turned on from her, and I need some sweet release.

Is there any, like, Crisco or cooking oil here? Just, like, dry handies bum me out.

I propose we treat ourselves to a little heaven. Seven minutes in heaven.

Whatever your plan was, it isn't working.

Would you like to pat the little man in the canoe?

I want to take our relationship to the next level.

I want us to be together, but I want it to mean something.

I love boning girls all over this great land. But really, at the end of the day, I just kind of want to bone one girl. Like, that one special girl.

I just didn't think that girl was you. Because, obviously, there's so much wrong with you.

Will you get back together with me?

I would consider taking you back under one condition.

You have to pinky-pledge that you will be monogamous to me.

You will not have sex with anyone else. Do you understand me?

Dude, she looks like prepackaged meat from the supermarket.

Oh, god, has someone checked on the kids?

Pretty convenient that you're the one who found the body.

You're the darkest bitch of them all.

Those are some serious accusations, and they make no sense.

I would be opening myself up to a lot of trouble if I were to turn you in to the authorities.

It doesn't do any of us any good to start accusing each other with no evidence.

I suggest that we just have someone stand guard and watch me for the rest of the night, or until someone else dies, therefore proving that I am not the killer.

This feels so good.

I tried to scream, but nothing came out!

Interesting. That's all I'm gonna say. Interesting.

There is a trapdoor with, like, a tunnel system.

But wait, there are secret tunnels in this house perfect for a killer to use, and you neglected to tell us?

That's a little suspicious.

We are losing sight of the big picture here.

I'm not going down there. I do not dig on cobwebs, and I'm guessing there are loads of cobwebs down there.

If you get murdered in those tunnels, I promise I will never bang anyone harder than I banged you.

You're so rich and hot.

These are the nicest secret tunnels I've ever seen.

Wow. What amazing legacies they all have. What do you think ours will be?

If we can get through this year without everyone getting killed, I think we'll go down as the greatest of them all.

You came back for me.

Purely selfish.

You are probably the worst cop ever.

Wait, where are we going?

I won't go!

In three seconds, I'm gonna pick you up and carry you out of here.

I just kind of came over here because I farted over there and it smelled bad.

Wait, you're a lesbian?

Basically, I'm in love with love.

The next time I feel love for someone, I'm going to tell them. Right away. Just in case they're murdered before I can.

I just feel like I'm never gonna find a guy who likes me.

I'm a freak.

Nobody actually likes me.

You are totally gonna find another guy.

They're custom-made pink nunchaku.

Thank you for making that announcement that no one cared about.

No slumber party is finished without a kickass dance party.

This is so wonderfully random.

What a great way to pretend all these people we know weren't brutally murdered.

[majwrites]

Request: Imagine Martin Whitly helping age regression! reader

This one's for @sherazyjade (thanks to you for being the first to request smth😇) who requested Martin Whitly calming down the reader. hope this turned out okay since my knowledge and experience with age regression is very limited. Reader is a journalist and not related to the Whitly family.

Warnings: age regression, talk about murder, mention of a family history of mental illness, psychiatry, Martin Whitly

Spoiler: the real name of the bone collector from the Lincoln Rhyme TV show is mentioned

Today was the day. New York Times well known journalist (Y/N) (L/N) would interview Martin Whitly at Claremont Psychiatric Hospital. They weren't a stranger to interviewing criminals, after everything they had gone through they thought it would be better to face all their fears. This had lead to them being one of the most famous crime journalists in the United States though. (Y/N) was well known for making the cruelest serial killers beg for forgiveness and regret their actions by asking well researched questions. They'd been around the country. Howard Epps, Peter Taylor, Shane Casey...name them, (Y/N) has interviewed them all.

Except for one: Martin Whitly. But that would change now as formerly stated. Everything went smoothly at first. They entered the building, went through all safety checks and finally entered the cell of the surgeon. "Oh look who we have here", stated Martin, "the most popular of them all". "Good morning to you too, Dr. Whitly", answered (Y/N). They took their time to look around the room. For the fact that this was supposed to be a life long prison sentence this man really ended up in a good place. "I'd like to ask you a few questions, it's nothing Ainsley wouldn't have asked you before but this time I demand the honest to God answer and take your time to think about it if you haven't done that during the past 22 years", (Y/N) was set on revealing the truth and if Whitly would come at them with the same 'I am sick in the head' answer they'd lose it. The majority of their own family was mentally ill and they wouldn't tolerate it anymore, the way it was always used as an excuse to murder people. Sure, some people could pledge insanity but not this man. He had enjoyed murdering. And this interview would reveal that.

(Y/N) only had a suspicion as to what caused it, anything had gone well up until this point. Up until the moment they realized Dr. Whitly was on a leash. Which (Y/N) was convinced was even more dangerous than if they just let him run around freely. It stressed them out. Big time. And suddenly they were hiding under the table just like back in school when they were only twelve.

Martin Whitly was surprised, but despite being a serial killer he was also a doctor and he was definitely not stupid. He knew if anything would happen to a journalist (who also was one of the most famous journalists New York had to offer) they'd hold him accountable. So he remembered that he once knew how to take care of children. He was a father after all. So he got up from his chair and knelt down on his end of the table so he was on eye level with (Y/N). To be fair, Dr. Martin Whitly was a surgeon and not a psychologist so he didn't exactly know what was going on and how far gone the journalist was.

He started off simple. "Hey, (Y/N). Could you please look at me", no reaction, they were still looking at the ground. What next? Touching them would be a bad idea, it could trigger something worse. So he continued talking: "There's no need to be afraid. I'm a doctor, it's my job to help people". Nice one Whitly, 23 victims erased from the narrative. But it seemed to work. They looked at him. "Alright, that's better. Now would you like to tell me what's troubling you?, he put on the most sympathetic expression possible. A few seconds of silence followed. "It's not safe here", stated (Y/N). "See, (Y/N). Is any place on earth really safe?", mental note to Martin Whitly, this was a bad move. So he tried again. "I can assure you that we're safe here. You see the door behind you? It's one of the strongest doors this country has to offer. And as I said before, I'm a doctor. If anyone would attack I'd know many ways to get rid of them"."That would be murder and that's wrong" "Don't concern yourself with that, (Y/N). It would pass as self defense", it really would if someone attacked now and the surgeon would try to protect (Y/N). "If you say so", of course (Y/N) would question it. They'd always had the need to question everything. "Alright, now that we're clear on this could we get up from the ground", he offered a hand to (Y/N). They nodded and let him help them off the ground. (Y/N) sat back down in their chair.

A few minutes later (Y/N) returned from their state of distress, unsure as to what had just happened. They decided to let it slide for now and go on about this interview.

[ineffectualdemon]

The best thing about the Anime Cat God (which I watched largely because Kiddo was interested in it) is that the main character cat goddess Mayu has a goddess fiancée because their dads decided to betroth them without checking the gender of the other child first.

And what makes it better is that they swore to the engagement in front of Amaterasu meaning they can't get out of it.

Mayu is indifferent to the whole thing but her fiancée is not only a fully on board with this Lesbian but she has a rival in the form of another goddess.

Now the reason I mention this is imagine your OTP

Married by accident try "our dads pledged on our engagement in front of an actual god before finding out we're both the same gender and now we have to get married"

There is a lot of ways that scenario could play out.

1. They know from the time they are kids and keep trying to break it but they fall in love while trying to break off the engagement

2. They know about it but haven't met and fall in love unknowing who the other is until after a bunch of angst

3. They don't know until they are dragged to a sudden engagement party

4. They don't know until they try to introduce their "new boyfriend" to the family

5. The families still don't know about the gender and they come out as gay and then get told they have to get het married and are surprised but relieved to find out it's gay

I could go on!

[janiedean]

What does Theon owe the Starks in general? Out of all of them, I think only Robb really cared about and trusted him. I don't think any of the others were particularly fond of him. What do you think? I haven't gone in depth in the Theon chapters, so I'm not sure. I believe that he should've been loyal to Robb,but the situation was difficult

oh god I think I ranted about it so many times I lost count, if you go under the janie writes meta tag there’s a lot, but tldr:

theon owes the starks as a whole nothing

in the show he owed robb because he pledged his sword in public

in the book he maybe owed robb out of persona friendship but like that’s more betrayed trust than OWING him anything

the others didn’t really like him nor care and he thinks of both ned and cat as extremely cold even if he envies them the family unit because he comes from one that sucks and the starks look great in comparison

I think his decision to not side with robb was understandable (your best friend vs your heritage and family and name when you’re the heir is... not the easiest choice), that he fucked up when he decided to take wf but again... not thinking straight XD in hindsight he should have sided with robb but he knows that better than me and it wouldn’t have changed the overall outcome that much imvho but still XD

anyway theon owes the starks as a whole nothing and what he owes robb is a matter of how you choose to interpret the text and so on but like.... robb is a thing, his entire family is a whole other and he really owes them shit XD

[siderealxmelody]

Galen & Hayla: A History

@xdarklingx

@thequillandthesword

Galen and Hayla were a product of their of circumstances, pushed to be things they never wanted to be.

----------

Galen's parents wished to ascend and they couldn't do that with a child to care for. So when he was born they gave him to Valentine to raise and ascended with his help (aka: they died believing in Valentine's teachings).

Galen never wanted a kingdom or lands, he was a quiet child. He liked to read, to put things back together, to observe the world around him.

He wasn't very close to his cousins but he loved them, he adored Lazai for his strength and Azariah for her intelligence. Next to them he didn't know what he offered anyone. But they were his only blood family and he desperately wanted to make them proud.

He had a few good friends, but one of them stood out to him like Estel. She was no one, her family were the help. She did the laundry and had been good friends with Galen since they were young. As they grew older that relationship deepened and Galen struggled with what to do. He loved his family but they'd never accept Estel into their ranks. Even if he tried to run - where could he go? Valentine controlled the land, he controlled the coastline.

So he did nothing, he watched as Estel allowed a soldier to court her, as she allowed herself to be happy without him. He couldn't truly blame her, he'd be a hypocrite not to. Wasn't he going to do the same when the opportunitypresented itself to him? She'd asked if she should wait for him, if there was a chance for anything - he'd turned her down.

He'd told her to not wait, to not give her whole heart to him - what good would that have done for either of them? She must have seen through his words because she asked him to take her before her wedding.

"I want to know full love Galen, I want to know what it's like to lay with someone who fully holds my heart. That is all I ask for my wedding gift, will you give me that?"

Who was he to deny her? Who was he to refuse the one and only wish she'd ever asked of him? So he did. He even blessed their union. He offered her husband lands in his court. Valentine was gearing up to coronate them soon, her husband could be comfortable in his court. To his relief her new husband politely declined, and asked to be allowed to move to the islands. Estel had always loved to sea he explained and now that they were reinstating the monarchy - perhaps that was where they could go.

Galen agreed and before he could get comfortable with his new life - Aleksander and Ludamilla came. They liberated them or so they said, they not only restored the powers of his throne - but pledged their support to him.

He supposed he was happy, he supposed he should be happy that the girl they gave him to marry was so easy to love. Hayla wasn't Estel, she filled any room she was in. She was loud and vibrant where Estel was a soft watercolor bleeding into the walls.

Still as Galen prepared for their wedding, he promised to be a man Estel would be proud of. He'd be loyal, he'd love Hayla as best as he could.

----------

Hayla had done whatever her brother had asked of her. The idea of marrying a prince had never filled her mind. But it's not like she was going to pass up such an opportunity.

Galen was sweet, kind even. He treated with respect but even as sheltered as she was - she knew she didn't hold his heart. That was fine, they could be friends couldn't they? Didn't all relationships start as friends?

So when Ulla took her aside and pressed her on if she truly wished for this - she didn't say no. She said yes, she said she definitely did.

Perhaps that's where the trouble first began.

Their parties were always lavish and beautiful. Lazai and Azariah always attended. It was there she met Orvin, he was Lazai's second in command.

He rarely spoke to anyone but she kept hearing of his jokes, of his wild stories from people. It became a game, a personal mission to get him to open up - to hear one of these legendary stories of his.

The first time she got through his defenses he laughed at one of her jokes. She had heard it echo in her head for days. A secret melody that permeated everything she touched for a week.

The second time she got through his defenses she only got a smile. But his eyes followed her around for the rest of the night.

The third time he had her pressed her against a wall, in some unused room. This time he wasn't laughing or smiling - he was kissing her.

"What story can I tell you that would befit a queen? What story can I tell you that you haven't lived Hayla?"

She asked him to tell her one of the skies, of the mountains in the north - of a world lost to myth and time. He had run his knuckles over her jaw and obliged.

She didn't truly understand what was happening, was it love? Was it lust? Did it matter? They found each other again and again over the years. Then Lazai had found a new God, a new thing to obsess over. She wouldn't have minded much except that meant Orvin was taken from her.

She wasn't sure if the isolation that followed was Galen's doing or her own. Ulla stopped trying to talk to her, even Genya stopped their weekly calls. Perhaps it was for the best, perhaps it would make everything easier.

She had children now to care for, to watch out for. Even if she mostly felt like they were draining her, taking bits of her soul everytime they demanded her time and attention.

So she did something she'd promised herself she wouldn't do - she gave them to another woman to raise. A governess to look after them and train them to be the good little children they were supposed to be.

She tried to put Orvin out of her mind, to find other things to occupy her time and attention. It worked well till the day it didn't.

She hadn't grown up in the Old Ways like Galen had so maybe she had forgotten. Maybe she wanted throw it in his face - that for all his self effecting he was just as miserable as she was. To share in the misery thar remained unspoken - they were both chained to this. This alliance needed to stay, it worked out too well for them both to leave it now. Her brother needed Galen's work to push his army and plans forward and Galen needed her to keep Aleksander at bay.

But Galen had decided without telling her to choose an heir. To mark their son with the rune of the Ahren line. When it didn't stick to theit son, he tried their daughter - but neither were able to bear the rune, in fact it burned them.

When he demanded an explanation, an answer to the question she knew he'd always wanted to ask her:

"Who was it you always got ready for Hayla? Who was it that you threw our parties for?"

She couldn't lie - she couldn't deny him this answer. What would he do to the children? To her? So she gave him the answer he wanted.

"Will you kill him Galen?"

Galen tilted his head, his hand loosening on his sword.

"What are you willing to give me for letting him live?"

She knew it was a trap, she knew she should do the smart thing and let Galen meet out his revenge. But she wasn't Aleksander or her sisters. She could never do the smart thing, not when it felt like she was dying simply contemplating it.

"What do you want?"

He had given her a grim smile and threw the sword to the floor. He'd walked to her and knelt in front of where she had sat on the bed. Self-effacing as always only now he got the joke - only now he gave her a false smile.

"A child, a true heir. Give me that and Orvin doesn't ever come to harm. Give me that and I will let you be with him again. Give me an heir and I will let you be free Hayla."

So she did, but she was never truly free of him. He kept his word, he didn't harm Orvin, he didn't demand anything else from her. Danatalion took the rune the moment he was born, and this time it stayed on him.

But in giving Galen this, in allowing Galen to dangle her freedom for it - she found she didn't want it. She found she cared for the boy. She still let the governess care for him but she wanted to make sure he had compassion, that he didn't end up like either of them.

Though when Alek heard of all of this and offered to kill Galen with Ulla's help she didn't stop them. As long as Galen lived she'd never truly be free. She would always be tied to him like a puppet.

[itsvenusliketheplanet-blog]

(holy week entry 01)

My immediate family, composed of only my dad, mom and myself, is Catholic. I grew up chasing my mom in church because of her chorale meetings and many other commitments. When I was a kid, I had only a little bit of understanding about the whole fuzz but as time goes by, I became so accustomed at what people do in it and began embracing the same practices. I began to understand fully why people serve in churches and do such things. A lot of people who know me doesn't know I had this kind of commitment in church and most of them knew about it but never really knew why I do it. Ever since my mom opened my eyes to it, I haven't left the church as it is where my relationship with God grew to this wonderful bush inside my heart.

Aside from the Advent season, which is full of anticipation and gratefulness, Lent season has always been one of my favorites. It's always that time of the year where I do most of the self-reflections in my life. It is such a silent season for me and the perfect time to embrace all of the burdens I have and sacrifices I have done and will be doing in the future. That is why, this year, I have pledged on not going through my social media accounts (except Tumblr because I had to blog about my whole week) and focus on my spiritual needs instead. No FOMO. I was always trying my best to understand what I want from what I really need and to live a simple life as much as possible. I think cutting out my social media interactions will give me more peace this season and hopefully I could embody my realizations after this whole season.

So much for the introduction tho. I really wanted to document something that I think is an important ingredient for the whole experience. It's been bothering me for a couple of days now and I think that's already good enough to be able to process what happened.

Before this week even started, I almost thought everything's going to start off fresh, happy and peaceful again especially with my mom back at home from her one-month vacation at the province. We missed Ma so much that when she got back the laughter and joy we shared almost broke our house! I got so pumped up to spend the holy week complete again, enough to contemplate on our individualities and relationship as a family to be able to give back to our neighbors the goodness that we have whole-heartedly, without ceasing. But just like any other families, we have our own kind of roller coaster rides, fair shares of ups and downs... but two days ago, we almost hit it rock bottom.

Everything clashed--my mom cried for being so emotionally hurt, my father got the whole credit for being dishonest, and I got so furious I was surprised I took out a knife (thankfully nothing worse happened), said hurtful things I now regret, and packed half of my things in my room ready to take flight. I felt blood gushing out of my face I never imagined I can be that infuriated in my whole life. When feelings of disappointment, disgust, dishonor and maybe hate (?) combine, it is hard to get a hold of yourself. It is worse than the worst nightmare for me as I felt everything falling apart. It saddens me up until this moment.

I had a lot to do on Saturday and almost felt like cancelling those plans so the hate I was feeling can get the best of me. But, no. I decided to not be a pain for other people and show up as the bright sunshine that I always am. AND THANK GOD I DID SHOW UP FOR THAT MEETING! The night when everything blew up, I prayed to God that I don't do anything stupid and not to hurt people more as they we're already hurting now and asked him through prayer what I should do this time. The business meeting I attended to was set up by a good friend of mine and was so lucky to have met this facilitator, a middle-aged woman who has a very bright aura at one look. Most of the talk that happened was about business but she left us with words of affirmation and comfort before the meeting was done. She spoke to me through God's words as if she knew what I was going through at the time. I really wanted to cry but I just didn't tell that to my friend and didn't want to shock the facilitator as well. I left the meeting with a swelling heart as I travel my way to my next commitment in another place.

THANK GOD I HOSTED THE PARTY THAT NIGHT. Everything was blurry as I had lots in my thoughts during the event (thankful that I made it through tho, it was successful) but seeing how a family work together to make the youngest daughter in the clan very happy on her 18th birthday, how her father talks so fondly of her, how her mother cried as she spoke about her daughter in front of everyone, how her siblings are very proud of her on what she'd become, it made me relax a little bit. This family is a huge family. I have a huge family by blood too but the only family I consider is the family that raised me which is Ma and Pa. Later that night, my co-host told me the debutant's parents were not in good terms for a very long time now but still managed to get together for their daughter. I was very overwhelmed. My heart was about to explode any minute but I waited 'til I got home.

Every family isn't perfect just as each member of it is flawed. A member may be dishonest but God is good. A member may have lost all the faith, but God is good. A member may have problems with his or her emotions and may have hurt people, but God is good. You see... GOD IS GOOD ALL THE TIME. Turns out I didn't plan those commitments yesterday at all. God planned it for me so He can talk to me through the people around me.

I really hope I could heal right away although I'm still getting the right time to make ammends with my father. One thing is for sure tho: I love him and this hate is not forever.

P.S. keep praying fam