#and it only took me six to seven years of owning the game to actually get around to this

[toomuchracket]

haunted house (dad!george x reader fluff)

more promptober! just a fun fic about you and the kids making plans for when george gets home. enjoy! <3

the bell for the end of the day rings just as you make it through the school gates, wet autumn leaves on the ground and the wriggly three-year-old in your arms doing nothing but hindering an already-running-late you. panting slightly, you carefully set cara down and try to catch your breath, ruffling her hair as she clings to your leg.

you're not really sure why you rushed, to be honest; connor's the most laid-back five-year-old you've ever heard of, with a habit of swanning out of school a few minutes after most of his classmates have bolted out of the playground, and you know you would have been there waiting for him in plenty of time had you walked from the car instead of running. still, you don't want to chance it, you'd rather wait for your son than have it be the other way around.

and you do wait - seven minutes (and three games of hopscotch with your daughter) after the school day ends, connor finally deigns to leave the building, chatting away to dylan as they wander over to you. at the sight of her brother and for-all-intents-and-purposes cousin, cara speeds over to them to say hello; when the three of them walk closer to you, you can see the smug little grin on her face at getting to hang out with the “big kids”, even though there's barely two years between her and them.

you grin back at them, amused at the (classic daniel/healy) height difference between the two five-year-olds. “hi, munchkins. y'alright? took you a while to leave school today.”

“dyl couldn't find her water bottle, mum,” connor throws himself into a cuddle, which you reciprocate eagerly. “but i helped her.”

your goddaughter corroborates this, giving you a hug of her own in greeting. “yeah cos we have the same one and no-one else has it because they're from our dads’ work. but mine has an sticker that's pink,” she almost whacks you with said water bottle in her haste to show you the barbie sticker half-stuck over the 75 logo. “it was at the sink and not my seat.”

“oh, well, that's good you got it,” you pat her head. “did your dad tell you this morning that it would be me picking you up because mummy's not feeling well?”

“yeah. he said baby's making her tummy sore, so i'm going home in the car with you.”

“that's right,” you take cara's hand, heading out towards the almost-empty car park. “let's go to the car now, babies.”

“mum!” connor looks aghast. “we're not babies. i'm five.”

“i'm nearly six,” dylan says proudly. “when baby gets here i'll be six. and lena will be four. and you too, cara.”

your youngest looks at you, brow furrowed; you have to stop yourself giggling at how much she looks like george. “i'll be four?”

“yes, angel. you and lena won't be the tiny babies any more, will you? we'll all have an actual baby to look after.”

cara hums, too preoccupied to be excited about the thought of a new friend. “will i get a party when i'm four?”

“oh, i think so,” you unlock the car, scooping her up with a kiss to her cheek before settling her into her carseat. “you know what dad and matty are like. any excuse to celebrate! right, dyl, you get in there, darling, watch your step,” fastening her seatbelt, you shout across the girls to your son. “you alright, con?”

“mhmm!”

you check anyway - he's fine - before getting in yourself. “alright, munchkins, home time.”

what should only be a ten-minute drive to the healy house actually ends up being twenty-five because of traffic, but it's pleasant enough - the kids are good as gold, patiently playing i spy, softly giggling the whole time and warming your heart. you knew all along that your babies would be best friends with your best friends’, but seeing dylan - tiny for her age, shockingly tentative from birth - yap and laugh along with your two like this is a heartwarming (and only slightly terrifying) indication that the kids will genuinely end up being as close (read: codependent) as their fathers are.

their fathers, who are still at the studio working diligently, you learn when your friend waddles (there's no other word for it) out to the car to get dylan despite you yelling “stay there! i'll bring her up!” repeatedly when you reach her house. she rolls her eyes as she tells you, absentmindedly rubbing her baby bump, an air of vague exhaustion hanging around her. “according to matthew, they're working on until half 6 tonight, so they can take the weekend off and do final tweaks on monday, and that's them done,” she scoffs. “can you believe that?”

“of course not. george has been promising to be home at half 4 for the past three weeks,” you snort. “and as for final tweaks…”

“oh, another month, at least.”

“literally. that baby girl of yours might arrive before they send that final mix off.”

“don't, i'm actually nervous about that,” she giggles, cradling her stomach before pulling you into a hug. “i'd better go before elena tries to cut her own hair again. d'you want to do dinner next friday, us and the kids - and the boys, if they ever unchain themselves from that mixing desk?”

“i'll bring starters and dessert,” you kiss her cheek. “take it easy, alright?”

“yeah. hope you get to see your husband this weekend, babe!”

“you too!”

you really, really hope you do; after an hour in tesco, you and the kids get home well after george's originally-planned home time, and your heart sinks when you unlock the door to the lights still off and no sign of him, other than the half-drunk coffee he left this morning and a couple of cigarette butts in the kitchen ashtray. moments like these are sometimes harder than when he's actually away touring, you think - it's less upsetting missing george when there are oceans between you than it is when you're ships in the night in the same house.

still, you've got the kids to keep you distracted from being melancholy; it's impossible to be anything other than overjoyed when your sweet babies insist on group cuddles on the sofa while you watch another episode of balamory, or when the two of them run to get their stepstools so they can watch you make fajitas for dinner with genuine interest (well, connor more than cara), or during dinner itself, when connor collapses into contagious giggles at the sight of his little sister’s face covered in guacamole. but they miss their dad, too, despite all the happiness, as admitted by cara while she's clinging onto you in piggyback while you do the dishes. “when's daddy home?”

you sigh, doing your best to keep the sadness out of it. “m'not sure yet, angel. he'll phone when he's leaving his work, though.”

“‘kay,” she digs her little chin into your shoulder, only slightly uncomfortably for you. “will he read me a story?”

“i bet he will,” you put away the last plate, wiping your hands before swinging her round to hold her in front of you; once her laughter subsides, you speak again. “daddy loves reading stories to you and connor.”

cara nods. “and he hasn't done it in ages.”

well, four days, but to a three-year-old… that probably feels like an eternity. the thought brings a lump to your throat. “he will, though, soon, munchkin. daddy will be home soon, and he'll read you a bedtime story,” biting back a sniffle, you spot a parenting advantage. “that is, if you brush your teeth extra well once you put your pyjamas on. yeah?”

“yeah!”

ironically, coincidentally, whatever you want to call it, the omw home text from george flashes up on your watch during cara's bathtime, the last step in what her dad likes to call “the ‘pre-bedtime routine’ routine”. she squeals when you tell her, kicking her little legs with such enthusiasm that half the bathwater ends up over you, and her brother rushes into the room in a panic. “what's going on? why is cara screaming? is she ok?”

wriggling even as you lift her into a cosy towel, cara answers. “yeah! daddy's coming to read us a story!”

“oh!” your son's face lights up. “really, mummy?”

“yes, darling, he just sent a message,” you confirm. “d'you want to go and choose a book while i get cara into her pyjamas? and then we can wait for him together?”

“mhmm” connor moves to leave, but turns back in the doorway to look at the two of you. there's a familiar smile on his face, and you're not sure whether to be worried about whatever sneaky thing he's about to suggest or pissed off that both of your kids look nothing like you. “or…”

you brace yourself. “or what, con?”

“we don't wait and we hide and then jump out and surprise him.”

the laugh escapes your lips before you even realise. fuck it. “alright. let's do it…”

the cheers you get in response are deafening.

“... but,” you raise your eyebrows pointedly. “only if you pick a book for your bedtime story now, connor,” matching his nods, you turn to your youngest in her towel cocoon. “and you brush your teeth properly, like we agreed earlier.”

cara nods so excitedly that the towel falls off her head. connor laughs, and you can't help chuckling either. “okay, babies - don't get stroppy, con, you're gonna be my babies forever, alright? anyway,” you ruffle his hair. “we'll hide in the wardrobe in your room. d'you want to wait there for me and cara, munchkin?”

“yeah!” he darts off, and seconds later you hear him rifling through the little bookshelf in his bedroom. “i picked a book!”

“good boy!” you call, before turning back to your still-beaming girl. “will you be good, madam?”

she nods sweetly. and she really is - there isn't a peep of a complaint at all. not while you're drying and dressing her, not during teeth-brushing, not even when you've got her sat on the bathroom counter as you brush and braid her hair, which is usually something she prefers george doing “cos it's not sore when daddy does it”. 

whatever. at least you still have hair.

hyper-aware of the fact that time is of the essence, you comb through cara's fringe once more, before scooping her up into your arms and kissing her little cheek. “what do we think, munchkin - d'you think you look good?”

“hmmm,” cara squints at her reflection, then grins. “yeah!”

“i think so too. shall we go and get connor and wait for daddy?”

a nod against your shoulder, and off you go on the short jaunt to your son's room. connor's already sitting in the massive built-in wardrobe, book in hand and an eager smile on his face. you smile in return, settling down beside him and pulling the cupboard door almost fully-closed; you're careful to leave a crack in front of you, so you'll be able to see your husband when he arrives. which, actually, should be imminently, so you'd better come up with a game plan. you tug your kids close to you. “so, when daddy gets here-”

“mum, why are you being quiet?” the confusion is evident on connor's sweet little face even in the minimal light. “dad isn't here yet.”

he's got a point. you blink. “true. anyway, like i was saying, when he does get here… wait for me to open the door, and then you can jump on daddy, yeah?”

“can we shout too?”

“i don't see why not. but no bad words, you - just because you've heard matty say them doesn't mean you can,” you point at connor, before turning to cara. “and no screaming from you, you hear me?”

“yes, mummy.”

“good,” your eyes widen at the sound of the front door opening, closely followed by george shouting a greeting as he dumps his bag, and your voice shifts to a whisper. “quiet, now, alright? let's see how long it takes daddy to find us.”

there's a whispered chorus of agreements, and then - miraculously - your kids go silent, aside from the quick little huffs of air signifying silent giggling; these get more frequent when you all hear george wandering around downstairs, calling your names in turn and humming to himself in bewilderment. when his footsteps become audible on the stairs, cara practically wraps herself around your arm, all but shaking with kinetic energy and clutching her brother's hand as they hear their father reach the landing. 

you, too, are laughing to yourself as you listen to george opening and closing doors in search, monologuing as he goes. “nowhere to be seen and they've left every bloody light in the building on. s'like blackpool illuminations,” comes the gravel grumbling so characteristic to the love of your life, as he wanders into what you know is the bathroom; he sniffs loudly, and you have to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from cackling. “strawberry shampoo… cara's bedtime routine. maybe everyone's in,” another door opens. “here! oh. empty. must be in connor's room, then.”

three strides across the landing, and there he is - george, his tiredness obvious even through the tiny crack between wardrobe doors. he turns slowly, taking in the emptiness of the room (and making your heart glow when you catch a glimpse of his pretty face), and - as if by magic - stops with his back to the wardrobe, muttering “where are they?” to himself.

partially out of slight guilt for putting him through this, but mostly because you think connor and cara might explode if you make them wait any longer to surprise their dad, you push the wardrobe doors open. the kids fly out, little voices shouting “hi dad!” and “we're here!” as little bodies land on george's massive one; he gasps in shock, and you're extremely thankful for the victorian high ceilings in your house, because your husband's head (and the rest of him, probably) would absolutely have hit anything lower when he jumped in abject terror. he sinks to the floor, head in his hands. “jesus christ,” he sighs, before standing and tucking a kid under each arm, swinging them around and filling the room with laughter. “you meanies, surprising me like that. i thought you'd all run away and left me!”

“we would never,” you step forward, taking cara into your own arms and pecking george on the lips. “we like playing tricks on you too much.”

“yes, that one's obvious,” george rolls his eyes; his face breaks into a big smile, and he kisses your nose. “hi, by the way, angel. thanks for the interesting welcome home.”

“i wish i could take credit.”

“oh? it wasn't mummy?” george dramatically looks from kid to kid. “who's the evil genius among us, then?”

cara giggles, nuzzling her head into your neck. “connor.”

“reeeeeeeeally?” george cocks his head to look at his boy, who's grinning from ear to ear. “s'that right, munchkin? it was your idea?”

connor giggles. “yeah.”

“in that case, then,” george tickles your son through his t-shirt, smiling at the raucous giggles that follow - from cara, too, actually. “say sorry, and i'll stop.”

“sorry! sorrysorrysorry!” connor's laughs fade to little hums, and he snuggles into his dad while they both catch their breath. “mummy planned it though. tickle her!”

george winks at you. “oh, i will, later. but first,” he flicks your son on the nose. “bathtime? and then a bedtime story for the little ones?”

cara nods. “and then mummy and daddy bedtime?”

“once i've redone your hair, munchkin? i think so,” your husband smiles at you, eyes twinkling. “of sorts, at least. you up for that, sweetheart?”

“oh, absolutely.”

[maggplays]

Bio? Something like that.

How did I start modding? Literally no one has asked this, but here's my story, don't worry it's not long... I guess that depends on what your definition of “long” is, haha! Hang on, here we go.

On a random day in January, 2024, a few days before my birthday, I might add... I woke up to stars in my right eye. A few days later, I was told I had a very rare injury and it would never heal. Those are not words an artist/gamer wants to hear! Long story short, I am now legally blind in my right eye. If you think, oh that's not a huge deal, you can still see. Humor me, get a cheap pirate eyepatch, put that on, then pour yourself a cup of coffee. Not as easy as you thought, right? Depth perception. It’s a thing. Anyway, on with the story. Suffice it to say, I was depressed. Majorly. Then, through some random conversation somewhere, I found Stardew Valley.

Perfect! 2D animation, cute pixel art, story that's not sugar-coated anime, I love it! Got to year 3, TBH I've never played past year 3 because ADHD, and realized the dialogue was quite lacking. Then I discovered mods. What the-, it's a freakin' goldmine! Downloaded a lot of things, mostly dialogue, and tossed half of them. While playing through a Sebastian run, I saw it. Oh. My. God. It's a coding error glaring at me in my dialogue box. This is NOT acceptable. I tried to ignore it, but then it happened again. Okay, time for some investigation. I opened the folder and found... json files. Interesting, I wasn't entirely clueless since I do know HTML code from back when the internet was a baby, Facebook had no ads, and dinosaurs roamed the earth. Okay, okay, the internet was more like a spoiled toddler. Yes, I'm old. Shut up. But I digress. It didn't take long to discover the misplaced punctuation and go on my merry reality-avoiding way. Until I got bored again.

I looked for more Seb mods, but there were like seven. Three were yandere, not my jam, and only 2 were updated for 1.6 and were dialogue-only. Solution? Make my own mod for myself. I spent six weeks downloading mods, learning code, Googling to very little effect, writing dialogue, learning how to make an event, discovering I knew nothing, and on and on. The perfect distraction from the whole eye thing. I finished a decent draft, loaded it up, and praise Yoba, it worked! And on we play. At some point, I saw a comment complaining about the lack of Sebastian dialogue mods. Huh, yep, they're right. Too bad. Oh. Well, I guess I could load this thing I made, it's really just my own internal story monologue while playing the game, I'm NOT a writer, and most people probably won't get it. But I did spend a lot of time on this, and maybe someone out there will like it. Heck, no skin off my nose since it's free. So I took a deep breath, made peace with my inner demons, and threw it out into the void of Nexus, expecting it to be swallowed up and ignored. That... didn't happen.

In the first few hours, several people downloaded it. Huh, Nexus must have a decent search algorithm. That was literally all I thought about it. The next day, 300 downloads. And comments! Mostly positive with the exception of one wild demand I subsequently ignored. At one week, it had 3,000 unique downloads. I was floored, 3,000 weirdos downloaded my mod. Add to that, people seemed to actually like it! I've never gotten so much positive feedback for anything in my life. Seriously. Apparently, my oddball internal monologue, thanks ADHD, is quite entertaining. Heck, might as well make another one... and here we are. Yes, I've gotten negative comments and unreasonable demands, but I do my best to ignore them and practice staying positive. Trolls be damned! It's a lot harder to do that for yourself than for other people, turns out.

So, bottom line, found something interesting? Try it! Does it make you happy? Keep doing it! Even if it's only for yourself, do the thing and let it make you smile. Share it with the world if you're so inclined. Get out there and kick ass!!

[thequeenofthedisneyverse]

Deceiver Chapter 1 - Villain Camilo au (rewrite)

TW: Some cussing

As always likes, reblogs. and comments are appreciated. Questions are fine as well.

Special thanks to @miracles-and-butterflies and @evostar for the inspiration.

Chapter 2

These past several months have been the best fun Camilo has ever had. He bonded a little more with his family and that's the best thing he could ever ask for. Pranking people with Isabela, games with Dolores & Antonio, relaxing/talking about whatever with Mirabel/Luisa, and writing stories with his new Tio Bruno. Ok, well he's not new but still.

Not only that, but he's not forced to perform or babysit some random kid anymore. Don't get him wrong, he loved performing and babysitting but...it was getting a bit much for him.

A few years after his ceremony, it became expected for him to perform. To make people laugh. So much so that people would actively seek him out in hopes for him to make them laugh.

After he turned nine, he was given children to babysit. A few cousins on his papa's side of the family. No biggie. But after that, word spread around the Encanto, and he just became the designated babysitter of the place.

2, 3, 4, sometimes six or seven kids at a time that he was forced to look after. And at the time, he couldn't refuse. The family image was on the line and wanted to make abuela the miracle proud.

So, he dealt with it. All the times he wanted to relax he had to perform to make crowds or kids happy. If you need an extra Luisa you can just go to him. He can’t mimic her build and the strength she would have without her gift to help carry or lift whatever you needed…To hell with his own relaxation. 

“Hey, it's Camilo! Tell us a story,  we know you have a good one to share”

“I’ve been down lately, say something to lift my spirits”

“Say something funny, I'm so bored!” 

Any time he tried to refuse he would be peer pressured into it. Or told how he was supposed to help. Sometimes he would get scolded if he said no too many times.

"You are a Madrigal for god's sake, you can't help me for a couple of hours?"

"Just take Elicia now, I'll be back in a couple of hours!"

"What's with the attitude?!"

"You watch that attitude young man, or I'll tell Alma how rude you've been."

And usually, when asked to go to a certain place, he usually has to be someone else.

"Hey, I need you to be me for a couple of hours. I do not want to go to that wedding"

"Can you be me at my sister's birthday party? I really don't want to go"

"I need you to be me and go on a date with my girlfriend. She's really been getting on my nerves lately and I just need to break"

"You're Camilo Madrigal, right? Turn into Isabela and do something funny"

Just constant pressure to be that happy go lucky town jester, doppelganger, and babysitter. Not to mention that his gift was taxing on his body. Every shift took more energy out of his body but how was he supposed to explain that? To children especially?

All the food he ate would barely even give him the energy he needed because he would be out of it two hours after breakfast or lunch.

There were days where just wanted to pass out from exhaustion, but he couldn't, you know why? Because he was Camilo Madrigal, Alma Madrigal's grandson, a bearer of the Miracle his abuelo died to give.

He was never allowed to be sad, angry, or any version of upset. Just a happy sunshine boy who would make you smile if you demanded asked him to. Camilo can’t even remember when he actually let himself feel anything besides joy.

But after the magic left...that all stopped. And even when someone tried to pin a child on him, one of his parents, sister, or primas would shoo the person away in their own way.

Things were getting so much better for him and the family as a whole. Sure...there are some issues that haven't been said on Camilo's part but...he has all the time in the world to say something right?

He has all the time in the world to tell his family that he has trouble understanding who he is. How he has trouble seeing who the person is in the mirror when he looks at it. When he looks in the mirror he’s too scared to see whether it’s himself or someone else hiding underneath. 

How he still has issues letting himself feel negative emotions but…the magic isn't going to come back to distract everyone. So everything is going to go great.

-

Camilo watched as his hermanito gave Mirabel the doorknob. His smile widened and his heart swelled at the wholesome sight. As she walks up to it, they all come close.

"We see how bright you burn"

He sings with his family. He, his Hermana, and parents smiled warmly at her. 

"We see how brave you've been"

"Now see yourself in turn"

Mirabel's sisters and parents do the same. Everyone in the family, including Abuela, looks at her proudly. She finally makes it up to the new family door. Tio bruno now stands beside tia julieta and tio agustin. Man, has he grown since the start of all this. Still a little skittish and scared of people but he’s genuinely trying and making progress. 

All of them stay behind her, silently showing that it's her time to shine. She puts the doorknob in the hole and as soon as she does, magic sparks from it. Camilo's heart raced with fear...this isn't happening. He watched as the magic swirled around the house and all over the Encanto. Feeling the magic pulsate through his veins again.

No.

No. No. No. No. No. No! No! No!

NO!

This can't be happening right now. Not after all this time, it can't be. The magic felt agonizingly warm within his body. He never wanted to feel this warmth ever again in his entire life. 

"Hola Casita!" Mirabel smiled and waved at the home.

The happy house started making music with its tiles, doors, windows, and anything else it could finally control again. With so much excitement, Casita bounced the stone floor under Mirabel and welcomed her in first.

"Come on! Get in here!"

Casita did the same for everybody and slid everyone in using the ground they stood on. The joy was ultimately infectious to everyone but Camilo. He was still trying to process what the hell was going on. 

"Calm down Camilo, our gits aren't back. It's just Casita, that's all" He thought to himself as everyone was piled in. "Surely, they wouldn't come back...right?"

Boy was he wrong, one by one, gift by gift. Isabela got her flower powers, Antonio could speak to his animals, Luisa got her super strength back. Pepa was happily dancing with small bits hail over her head. Felix cheering her on as always.

That must mean...no, no no no, it didn't. It couldn't have. He's happily gift less.

But he knew his gift was back. He could feel it in his very soul. Camilo was scared, frightened even. Does this mean things will go back to how it used to be?

Was he going to be the town jester and doppelganger and babysitter again? Was he now going to constantly be told to be someone other than himself?!

No, no, he won't let that happen.

Camilo looked around at the scene. Everyone seemed so happy and jovial while he was in a state of turmoil. Milo was feeling overwhelmed. He has to make this stop. He has to-

Suddenly, the tiles under his feet moved him to the center of the courtyard. Snapping him out of his thoughts.

Wait, what's happening?! he thought as his eyes looked around confused. The family all posed as the camera was brought out and bounced over to them with a rat on top of it.

"Everyone together!" Alma said cheerfully

Huh?!

"La Familia Madri-" Everyone was cut by Casita making them all huddle in too close together. Resulting in a funny but cute family photo.

After the family broke apart a little bit, Milo was given some space to think. If you could call it that. His mind was practically racing with all those horrible memories of how things used to be. 

Dolores looked at him as she heard his heart racing. To be fair, everybody's hearts were racing but she was the closest to him at the moment.

She looked at his face. He wasn't smiling. He looked perplexed to say the least...and a little scared. Which was odd, this was supposed to be a joyous moment right?

She stepped a little closer to him and put her hand on his shoulder. A small way to get his attention.

"Milo...you okay?" She asked softly and quietly, he was close enough for him to hear but quiet enough for others to barely acknowledge.

There's no candle...nothing to snuff out. Nothing to make the magic go away. It's going to happen all over again. No one is going to want me for me anymore. I have to get rid of it. GET RID OF IT! GET RID OF IT! But how?! Did Mirabel bring it back? no...wait, the doorknob...THE DOORKNOB-

"Camilo?!"

Dolores spoke a little bit louder as she nudged his shoulder. Camilo looked at her in shock and looked around. His heart was still going rapidly.

"Camilo are you alright?!" She asked him while she looked into his eyes. She saw panic in his eyes, and he wasn't saying anything...he must be having a panic attack.

Her concerned voice alerted her parents Pepa looked at her son and stepped a little closer, putting her hand on his cheek.

"Mijo, are you okay?"

Camilo finally snapped out of his thoughts "I- I uh...yeah, I'm just...shocked is all" he chuckled nervously. Which wasn't a lie, he was shocked.

"Your heart was going really fast milo, are you sure-"

"I'm sure Dolores!" Camilo answered with a slightly irritated tone. He didn't mean that. Quick idiota, change your attitude "Heh....I'm okay, I'm happy"

Ok, very odd. He was telling the truth but there was something he wasn't saying. Dolores, Pepa, and Felix could see it.

"Mijo...if there's something wrong you can say it." Felix said sincerely.

"I'm fine papa, really"

The party continued and everything was going well. Camilo joined in on the fun as well. But only to appear just as happy as everyone else was. But on the inside, he was feeling everything but happy.

"The magic is back now" a voice in his head said.

"You know what that means," Another voice said.

"Everything will go back to how it used to" another said. 

"You're going to be the villages Mamita and bufón again"

"It'll all go back to everyone never wanting you, just someone who doesn't even act or look like you"

What is happening?! Where are these voices coming from...why are they saying this to me... Camilo thought to himself.

"We're saying it because it's true milo. Everything is going to go back to normal...unless you take that doorknob out of the front door of course."

This was becoming very concerning to him...but he felt like they were right. He didn't want to go back to that, he can't go back to that! He needs that doorknob gone.

When he noticed the attention wasn't on him, he snuck out to the front of the house and stood in front of the door.

It was a happy little door. It had everyone on it as a family. Cami couldn't deny that it was a sweet sight. But he wasn't really in the mood right now for sentimental value. He looked down at the doorknob, staring into it intently. It glowed so beautifully with that 'M' carved into it. Oh, how he hated it.

"Go on!"

"I can't!"

"Just take it already!"

"What if it doesn't work?"

"You want to go back to how things were? At least try it!"

Camilo internally argued with himself for a few more seconds until he reached out and gripped out. He tugged softly the first time, no budge. He tugged harder, still, it didn't budge.

“Puta madre!! Why Mirabel, WHY?! You just have to fuck everything up don’t you?!” Camilo seethed to himself. There was definitely no way of removing the magic this time. That doorknob more than likely wouldn’t budge unless Mirabel herself wanted to remove it. 

He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, to punch something ANYTHING! This isn’t fair. He can’t go back to being other people! He can’t go back to babysitting every kid in Encanto without a choice in the matter. 

“I don’t even know who I am at all and it’s all their fault! Those soul sucking ungrateful villagers. I never even got a thank you for watching their kids! Never a “thank you” for pretending to be someone else for them! I'm not going to let anyone force me back into that corner, EVER! I will burn this entire encanto DOWN to the ground before that happens again!”

Camilo’s heart was racing fast as he stared at the glowing door. Those smiles were so adorable…so mocking. He looked at the glowing version of himself “drawn” onto the door. He reached up to it and touched it. 

The door felt sickeningly warm to the touch. He could feel the music from inside vibrating off of it. Milo took his hand away with a scowl etched into his lips. He chuckled but there was no joy in it. Only disdain. 

Before he could think anything else the door swung open and hit him straight in the face, knocking him down. 

“OW!” Camilo groaned as he sat up off the ground clutching his face. 

“Huh? Oh sorry Milo, I didn’t know you were there” A voice said apologetically. Camilo instantly recognized it as Isabela’s. 

He looked up and saw her. She was completely covered in a variety of pollen colors but the most obvious one was dark blue. She held her hand out and Camilo begrudgingly took it. Next to her was a giddy and bouncy Antonio. 

“Did you kick the door open?!” He said as he rubbed his hurt nose. 

Isabela shrugged, “Yeah, lo siento. Now come on, Casita said that some of us have new additions to our gifts. Antonio wants you to try something”

Camilo looked down and was met with Antonio’s beaming face, “Cami! Dolores can turn her gift off when she wants too, that’s so cool right?! Isabela can make all kinds of plants now, even poisonous ones! I’m not sure what I or mama or Luisa can do yet but I want you to try something!”

Camilo took in all of that information and reminded himself that he wasn’t smiling, so he pretended that he was just as happy as Antonio, “Oh really? Well, what do you want me to try?” 

“Try shapeshifting into animals por favor!” 

Milo was taken back by that, animals? He remembered trying that once as a kid and nothing happened. 

“I- I don’t know tonito-”

“Pleeeeeease!” Antonio begged with that adorable smile and big eyes. Who can say no to that

Camilo sighed and kneeled down to be at his hermanito’s level “fine, any specifics?” 

“A jaguar, like Parce!” Antonio bounced with anticipation and joy. 

The teen boy looked up at Isabela, who just shrugged and put a hand on her hip as she waited. He looked back down at Antonio and stood back up. 

“Well…worth a shot” Camilo shrugged and closed his eyes. 

Milo focused on the image of Parce in his head and breathed a deep sigh. His eyes closed and breathing calm. After ten seconds he opened his eyes. He looked at Antonio and up at Isabela, then down at the ground.

Paws…he sees paws! He tried to circle around but he would just trip over himself seeing as it’s the first time he’s walking in cat form. But that didn’t deter him at all. He was ecstatic. 

“I- I did it! I turned into jaguar! I can shift into animals-”

“Pffft-” Isabela snickered and Antonio giggled at the sight. Camilo assumed it was because he was walking funny. Nope.  

“You missed a spot primo!” Isabela pointed at her face

“Que?”

“Your head isn’t a jaguar head. And you have a human backside” Antonio giggled. In a quick pace, tonito asked Casita to open the front door. The house obliged and did what it was asked. Before Camilo could get a word out Antonio shouted that everyone come see Camilo in a jaguar form. 

“No wait! Don’t!” Milo wasn’t a fan of his weird shifting quirks. They always acted up at the worst times and he hated it. Now was one of those times. The more he tried to shift back into any other animal or just himself he would just shift into a different animal with strange human likeness. 

By the time people were outside they saw the amalgamation that was a half donkey, horse, and teenage boy. It caused people, especially his family, to laugh at this shifting quirk. It was causing him to panic and shift more uncontrollably. 

He didn’t want this, he didn’t want to be the town entertainment again. Milo stopped to focus on the ground. In this form his legs looked to be a donkey's legs, horse torso, and a capybara face with his normal hands and hair. 

Alma came up to him with tears in her eyes as she chuckled, “aye milo, still trying to make everyone laugh I see” 

This isn’t happening right now…it couldn’t be. He wanted this to be a horrible dream but all of it felt too real to be. The laughs were so loud and annoying. His heart was beating really fast and all he could do was just look around in embarrassment. 

Pepa saw the panic in his eyes and her smile quickly faded, as well as her rainbow. She quickly walked over to him. Felix noticed her expression and followed suit. 

Pepa stood by him and patted his head in order to calm him down “Cami, you alright?” 

Camilo looked up at her and looked back at everyone else. He was not okay. He needed to not be the center of attention right now. He tried to shift into his human form but that just caused so much more embarrassment for him. 

Not to mention that all of this unorthodox shifting was hurting him. His bones and skin just shifted into so many things so many times. It was painful. 

Please stop! Please stop! Please stop! Please stop! Please stop! PLEASE STOP! He thought to himself. With a final scream of frustration he finally shifted back into himself. He checked himself over. Normal hands, normal face, normal body, normal feet. 

His breathing was quick and uneven. His heart beating a thousand beats per second. And…he was crying. Tears were falling down his cheeks and his body was shaking. 

“Camilo” Felix looked down at his son with concern and bent down to pick him up by the arm. “Hey, hey mijo! Breath, look at me!”

The teen couldn’t hear him. In fact, Camilo could still hear and see the villagers laughing at him. Even if they weren’t anymore. The laughter got louder and louder to him, never stopping. 

This frightened Camilo and he ran past all of them. Pushing and knocking over whoever he can to get inside Casita. The voices calling out to him were unheard as he rushed up Casita’s stairs and into his room. 

It was still the same as it used to be. A large theater with a big stage. The only difference was that the lights were much brighter than they used to be. And they were directly on him and followed his every movement as he ran past the audience seats and on top of the stage. 

He moved the curtain back and his old king sized bed was there with all of its yellow, orange, and red pillows, blankets, and sheets. On the right of his bed was a large rectangular mirror with the classic round light bulbs decorating all sides of it. 

“Casita…please,” Camilo whimpered as tears fell down his cheeks. Laughter was still echoing in his head. “Make it stop!”

He covered his ears like his hermana used to when noise became too much for her. 

Why is this happening to me?! I just want things to be normal! Why can’t I be normal, why can’t this family be normal?! Camilo fell to his knees and tightened his hold on his head. 

Why did Mirabel have to touch that fucking doorknob! This is all her fault, her fault, her fault, HER FAULT! Everything was fine before that. My life was going to be normal and now it’s back to how it was! Those people are going to use me again…no…

Camilo’s eyes widened as he stumbled upon a thought, “Those people…those ungrateful ass people! How dare they laugh at me?! After all the turmoil I went through to make them happy…that’s how they repay me” 

The teen boy chuckled, then giggled, and soon he started to laugh. Loudly and Maniacally. This was it, Camilo finally snapped. 

“I’ll make them pay”

On the outside of his room, Dolores was downstairs at the kitchen table trying her best to listen in on her hermano. But she couldn’t hear anything. She did hear him crying but then it just stopped as quick as it started. The only thing she could hear was his heart beat. There was a thought that he was just doing this to get attention but Camilo would never do that. 

“Do you hear anything?” Pepa asked with concern in her voice. The only reason she didn’t barge into his room is because Felix stopped her. He wanted to see him too but didn’t want to overstep a boundary. 

Dolores shakes her head, “No, mama his room is soundproof” 

Antonio looked up at his hermana and parents, “Is he gonna be ok?” 

Felix looked down at his youngest son sympathetically, “He’ll be ok mijo, he was just uh…a little embarrassed”

“A little my ass” Pepa thought to herself as she was stroking her braid. A small gray cloud over her head. 

“He was crying though” Antonio doubted and sank back into his chair a little bit. 

The table went quiet as everyone went into deep thought. He looked really panicked, hurt (both physically and emotionally), and embarrassed. Most of them thought he may have been having a panic attack but Dolores informed them his heart rate has slowed down. Which was also a calming thing to know for her as well.

“If I was in his situation I would’ve cried and ran off too” Bruno admitted quietly as he fiddled with his fingers. 

Camilo breathed in a deep sigh and stared at himself in the mirror. For once in a long time, Camilo saw his face staring back at him. He was sure of himself now…and knowing that put a sinister smile on his face. 

He tilted his head as he noticed something…man he needed a wardrobe change. 

I need a better style than this. Oh! I know Mami and Dolores would love to help me with that! Tonito and Papi would too. Milo stood up and walked away from the mirror, swiping the curtains out of his way and walked down the stage stairs. 

Once he made it out of his room he closed his door lightly and leaned his back on it.  A big and chipper smile appeared on his lips. A soft and happy voice to go with it. 

“Dolores, can you and Mami come upstairs please? I want a makeover”  

-

@glowing-celesticpetals

@gamerbearmira

[darkladylumiya]

My thoughts on Tales of the Empire

I'll start with my overall thoughts - the animation is really good, though at this point the contrast between more standard Clone Wars-style models and the more realistic ones who look like they could be from a video game is a bit jarring (though this could easily be a just me thing, I've not seen anyone else talk about this), the Barriss arc was way better than the Morgan Elsbeth one, which I doubt was a surprise to anyone, though I still have some issues with both. My big thing is that, compared to Tales of the Jedi, where we get little excerpts and character moments to fill out the characters and their progression through time, here Tales of the Empire is more or less our only source for info on these characters at this point in time. We know what happens with Dooku and Ahsoka in between their episodes - we have no clue what happened to Morgan to get her from Dathomir to running a planet for example, or how Barriss went from inquisitor to hermit healer (though this example is much less extreme).

Anyway, into the arcs proper. Get excited everyone, other force witch clans are back! Like the... checks notes Mountain clan. Not Singing Mountain. Just... Mountain. Cool, thanks Filoni. A decade later you finally make other Dathomiri clans canon, but you just shave a word off a name and now it's totally your own original idea, right? And don't worry, we'll have more totally original ideas from Filoni later, but first. Okay, the first episode is kinda like... a nothing episode. We end the episode with Morgan in the same position as she was halfway through, with a strange plot where Morgan immediately tries to seduce people to the Dark Side because... I don't know, she can? And again, we have no clue how she made it off planet. Dathomir doesn't exactly get a lot of space traffic, and apparently there are droid gunships still scouring the planet looking to kill literally any Nightsister left. Surely the first episode should have dealt with her getting off-planet? And not her sowing some dissent in a clan we've never met before and never see again? Some dissent which immediately ends and goes nowhere because most of them are now dead.

Anyway, next episode, she's in charge of a planet now because she has to be for The Mandalorian to still work - surely her getting to be in charge of a planet should have been an episode? Have the first one be her family getting killed and then her getting off-planet with some scavengers or pirates or whatever, the second episode is her rise to power over this planet and then the last is her meeting Thrawn? But sure, whatever, she's in charge already, cool. She's the designer of the TIE Defender, because they love beating my boy down. I'm not even going to ask how a Nightsister who has probably never even seen a starship before her clan got murdered figured out in the however many years it's been now knows how to design one of the best starfighters out there. Let's actually address that though - how many years has it been? The Battle of Dathomir was 20 BBY. The episode starts with a shot of Coruscant, where we see six Venators before finally an Imperial-class Star Destroyer appears. This implies to me that this has to be early on in the Empire, right? The first five years or so maybe? But then in Rebels season four there's an episode where they steal a TIE Defender prototype. So it took the Empire, or I guess Thrawn more specifically, at least seven years to go from design to a single test model? That's just strange to me, but who knows, it's been forever since I've seen that Rebels episode so maybe I'm just misremembering how they talked about it there. Anyway, the thing that truly got me was Pellaeon and Rukh. Fucking Rukh. But yeah, why was Eli Vanto not here but Pellaeon was? New canon more or less replaced Pellaeon's role with Vanto, so why is he not here now but Pellaeon is? My guess - because Filoni wanted to cover all the Thrawn bases. He read a brief summary of people and things associated with Thrawn in Legends and he put them all in one episode. We have Pellaeon, we have TIE Defenders, we have fUCKINg Rukh. I genuinely do not know why the FUCK Rukh is here.

Okay, let me explain. In the original Thrawn trilogy from the 90s, Rukh is Thrawn's personal bodyguard. Rukh is a Noghri, a species who regard Darth Vader as the savior of their people because their planet got nuked during the Clone Wars (it was an accident) and Vader came in and promised to help rebuild the planet, which he did. Very slowly, so the Noghri would always be indebted to him, because as it turns out they're very good assassins and commandos. But the important thing to note is that they're sworn to Vader, and serve him. Now in the books they work for Thrawn because they're more broadly sworn to the Empire, and after Vader is dead they end up working for Thrawn once he's in charge of the Empire. But Filoni doesn't care, the Noghri are associated with Thrawn and so here Rukh is as his bodyguard testing whether Morgan can fight. As soon as she got attacked, I immediately guessed it was going to be a Noghri, but once I saw the face of her attacker I was much less sure, because the head is completely wrong for a Noghri by the way, their head looks nothing like that. But anyway I lost it when Pellaeon said Rukh's name, because I knew I was fucking right. We're just pulling out all the sick Thrawn trilogy references, but not actually using these characters in any meaningful way - Rukh is here so his character page on Wookieepedia can have a canon tab now and so Filoni can show off his cred of pretending to have read a single book in his life. Oh yes, there is another thing Rukh is famous for by the way. KILLING THRAWN. I'm sure Filoni just forgot that little detail. Or who knows, maybe he'll just recreate it word for word at some point because he cannot do anything but steal from other people's work but do it in a worse and more amateurish way. I was so upset with Rukh being here with no explanation or justification I really did not care about anything else that happened in the rest of the arc. Thrawn shows up and recruits Elsbeth and then the third episode is just her killing a diplomat and burning a forest for no reason, yeah sure whatever who cares. I simply wish at some point there would be a notable character from Legends who is just... left there, and doesn't get dragged by cowboy hat man into whatever nostalgia bait ploy or attempt to pretend he has ever read a book, because the nostalgia bait doesn't work anymore. It just doesn't - it simply pisses me off. You're reminding me of better stories while I watch your lame shows, Filoni. Is that really what you want?

Ugh. Anyway, Barriss. I have a lot less to say because it's actually pretty good. I think it's way too short and she deserved way more screentime, or at the least not having to share an equal amount with Morgan Elsbeth (who I honestly forgot was even in the Mandalorian, I genuinely thought she was made up for the Ahsoka tv show for a while she's so forgettable). Anyway, the fundamental flaw is still that Barriss's massive heel-turn change of heart came out of nowhere and makes little sense with her character as established, so while this does a decent job at building upon that, it doesn't change that her arc in The Clone Wars makes no sense and was obviously chosen so that Ahsoka could be emotionally devastated by her best friend betraying her. A different complaint I then have is like... when did Barriss, woman who killed over a dozen people in a terrorist bombing, at least one of whom was someone she knew and liked, Barriss who murdered a woman in cold blood and purposefully framed her best friend so she could get away with this bombing, Barriss who convinces a wife to make her husband into a living bomb, Barriss who kills three clones with her friend's lightsabers to set her up even further and leads her purposefully where she has stashed more of the same bomb material, and indeed Barriss who kills someone who seemed to be her friend with the same technique she used to kill the woman who was about to rat her out - you want me to believe she suddenly has an issue with killing a village full of people? I'm sorry, but you have to actually explain how she sees this as different. Because you don't actually address at any point how she might feel about her terrorism now, or even what exactly her moral compass is. Killing innocents is good when she does it bad bad when it doesn't make the political statement she wants to make? I just don't get it. Anyway, final episode is the best of the series because it does the most to actually have a moral and message and actually does something pretty interesting? Whether she dies or not (I doubt she does personally), it's still an interesting setup for something else, either another season of this or a comic or book or whatever, to come back to and follow what the hell Lyn (and probably Barriss too) does now. I'm also glad Filoni finally remembered Barriss's specialty was healing actually, and not terrorism, even though we don't actually get to see her do any healing, with the Force or otherwise. Oh also, why does she look so old? It's like she aged 50 years over the course of 10? Like Lyn looks exactly the same but Barriss looks like she's 80. Idk, that was weird. Anyway I've rambled long enough, Filoni is still a hack who's never read a book in his life, but the Barriss stuff here was pretty good, at least somewhat enjoyable throughout. If you watch anything, watch that - all the Morgan Elsbeth stuff is terribly forgettable or outright frustrating.

5/6 edit: I’ve fixed Eli’s name (sorry Eli) and while it’s been pointed out to me that Rukh is in Rebels, a fact I was unaware of, I’m going to maintain the rant as it stands with this disclaimer here at the end - Rukh was in Rebels and was not originally added in this show. However, I still think his design sucks.

[frogletscribe]

Until It Doesn’t Hurt

Chapter 11: So Long and Lost

Summary:

20 years since the RDA was pushed off of the moon of Pandora, they are back once more. The RDA thinks their only problem is the traitor Jake Sully and his family, but as it turns out, Jake wasn’t the only ‘problem’ left behind 20 years ago. 

Anthe was a child soldier, stolen from their home and forced to learn the ways of the humans, erasing any of their connections to the Na’vi from before. Finally free from the RDA’s hold after being trapped in cryosleep, they're about to make themselves everyone's problem.

---

Tenak has entered the chat, Neteyam struggles to adapt, Anthe and Spider get bad news

_____________________________________________

Pairing: Aged Up!Neteyam X Nonbinary!Na'vi!Reader/OC (OC and Neteyam are both around 20)

Warnings: Mentions of Past Violence, Mentions of Past Trauma, Mild Claustrophobia, No Use of Y/N, Blood, Self-depreciation, Neglectful Parenting, Suggestive Themes, Mutual Pining, Hurt-Comfort, Found Family

WC: 3672 words. AO3 Link Here

A/N: Okay its been a sec! I graduated college (yaay) and also had my laptop and switch stolen in the same day (;~;) SO, this took me a minute to finish. Also thank you to everyone who has been liking and reblogging my doodles!

I feel like I should also note that I still have not played Frontiers of Pandora so, there are obviously going to be differences. I'm staying away from using too many explicit references, or else im gonna frustrate myself when i actually do get to play the game lol

{ } indicate speaking Na'vi

Masterlist

Previous Next

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One of Tenak’s clearest memories of his childhood was the first time had met Anthe. He was thirteen years old, the oldest child to have been taken just a few years prior. There were only three others then, all between eight and eleven, and all looking to him for safety and guidance. Anthe arrived with three more children, nine years old and full of spite and fire. The others that came with them were even smaller, six and seven at most, clinging to Anthe’s legs, trying to hide from the strangers that had killed their families and stole them from their homes. 

Tenak watched through the classroom window with Kala, a girl from his village that had been stolen with him, waiting to see what would happen with this new group of Na’vi children. They watched the RDA soldiers try to drag Anthe and the other kids towards the classroom. The smaller children went more easily, still too scared to fight back, but not Anthe. Tenak watched the younger child kick and hiss at the soldiers. Teacher tried to step in, urging the soldiers to stop trying to force the child to go, but the soldiers were already angry, and Anthe was still kicking and cursing at anything that tried to get too close. 

So, Tenak made a choice. He left the classroom, pushing past Teacher and the soldiers and putting himself between them and the child. Someone tried to grab him, and drag him back into the classroom as well, but at thirteen Tenak was already taller and stronger than the human soldiers, and could easily brush them back. He stuck out a hand to who he would soon know to be Anthe, helping them back to their feet where the soldiers had pushed them down. They eyed him warily, as Teacher was frantically trying to keep the soldiers from escalating things further. 

“{Why do you dress like them?}” Anthe’s voice was small but accusatory. Tenak looked down at himself, clad in the TAP issue pants and shirt he wore. By contrast, this new child still wore their more traditional Na’vi clothes, a woven and beaded top with matching tewng.

“{They took my clothes.}” He said simply, his mother tongue feeling rusty in his own mouth. “{They will take yours too, and anything else you have.}” The child swallowed, curling in on themselves protectively.

“Hey! English only! You know the rules!” One of the soldiers grabbed Tenak by the arm, shouting in his face.

“They do not know English yet.” He hissed back through gritted teeth. “They are confused, and will not listen until they know what’s going on.” There was a moment of tension, Tenak staring down the soldier holding him, ears pinned back against his skull. 

“Then do your explaining back in the classroom.” The soldier finally relented, shoving the children towards the door. Anthe was less resistant this time, holding close to Tenak as he quietly ushered them into the room, Teacher close behind them. The three other new children were all huddled together around Kala, sniffling and sobbing into her shirt. She was only eleven, and already acting like a mother hen for all the younger children.

“Okay.” Teacher let out a shaky breath, closing the door behind her. “New agenda for the day, we are going to help our new friends get adjusted.” Her smile when she turned back to the eight Na’vi children did not meet her eyes, and Tenak could see the anxiety in the shake of her hands.

Over the next several hours, Tenak and Kala helped Teacher clean up and dress the new children in TAP uniforms. More soldiers came and went, taking away the children’s old clothes and songcords, but while there were many tears, this time there was less fighting. Anthe, as Tenak finally managed to get their name, refused to make a single sound or acknowledge anyone but him. Not once did they cry, only gritting their teeth and clenching their fists as even more was taken from them. That was the last day any of them were allowed to speak Na’vi freely and without punishment, the last day they had even the smallest taste of home, and the first day of the rest of their lives.

Ten years they stayed in TAP, losing their language and stories with the passage of time. Ten years trapped in a cage that turned them into weapons against their own people. All the younger ones were gone now and all that was left were Tenak, Kala, and Anthe. But, Anthe hadn’t woken up when he and Kala had. They had lost fifteen years of their lives to the cryopods and Anthe was still asleep.

 Every year, for the last five years, he had made a point of going back to TAP and checking on Anthe in their pod. When he and Kala had first woken up, Anthe’s pod was the only other one to have not gone completely dark already. They had tried everything they could think of to get their younger sibling out and nothing had worked. So Tenak took to waiting, going back as often as he could, waiting for Anthe to wake up. 

However, he had gotten caught up in the new RDA invasion, trying to protect the new friends and clans he had met in the Western Frontier of Pandora, and now Anthe was gone. Tenak had returned to where Kala was staying with the Aranahe clan in a panic, Pandora was a big place and their younger sibling could be anywhere. Kala was significantly calmer about the news, reassuring him that Anthe would find their way back to them. She had always been the wisest of their family and a mother figure to the younger of them. 

“They are strong, Tenak. Anthe knows how to take care of themselves.”

“But they are alone! And you know they hate about being around strangers. They’re not going to stay with another clan.” Tenak knew Anthe too well, and knew their anxiety about being an outsider. He had struggled with it as well before he and Kala had met the clans in the west.

“We don’t know that. There are many clans, it's entirely possible that they found a safe place to stay.”

But where Kala was a calm and patient voice to soothe him, Tenak’s own inner voice was the exact opposite. Within two days, Tenak was searching every clan in the area, using an old photograph of the two of them he carried with him to ask if anyone had seen Anthe. The longer he searched the more stressed he got, especially knowing that the RDA was back, leaving Anthe in more danger because of it. 

Now, Tenak was practically a year into his search, and there was still no sign of his younger sibling. Kala stayed behind with the Aranahe, just in case they popped up, but Tenak set his sights for the East. There were a number of clans in that direction, as well as the new RDA headquarters if his intel was right. If Anthe was there then Tenak would find them, no matter what it took.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The Metkayina Clan at Awa’atlu were kind to the Sully’s for the most part. The first few weeks in the reef village were tense, but with help from the Olo’eyktan and his family, mostly his daughter Tsireya, the family was brought quickly into the larger community. Neteyam’s siblings seemed to take to the ways of the water quickly, but the same could not be said for Neteyam himself. Where once he excelled in every aspect of his life, now he floundered. He struggled to master the breathing techniques Tsireya taught them, and grew frustrated by his slow pace in the water. It was not helped by Ao’nung, Tsireya’s older brother, and his taunting. Neteyam hadn’t wanted to leave home in the first place, but he needed to stay strong for the rest of his family. There was no room for Neteyam to mourn. 

Now he sat on the sandy beach, watching his siblings joke with each other and their new friends. Kiri and Tuk were building a sandcastle with Tsireya, while Rotxo was play-fighting in the serf with Ao’nung. Lo’ak had run off in a huff earlier, upset that no one believed that his new Tulkun friend was not the killer they believed it to be. At least his younger brother was no longer fighting with Ao’nung. It was a good development, especially given the recent fight the Sully brothers had had with the Metkayina man and his friends. Neteyam licked the healing cut on his lip at the memory, wincing as it still stung. Neteyam was still pissed at Ao’nung himself, even if his brother had apparently forgiven him.  After the fight, when Lo’ak had attempted to make peace, Ao’nung had almost gotten Lo’ak killed, abandoning the younger man outside the reef in Akula territory. At least, there was no more fighting or insults being thrown.

Neteyam thought now, as he did often, of Anthe, wondering if they were okay, if they had escaped the RDA or were still there with Spider. If they were even still alive. He thumbed softly at the hilt of Anthe’s knife, the only thing he had left of them besides the gifts he never got the chance to give them. Neteyam had finished the knife he made for them, and kept it wrapped up with his belongings, and the clothes Kiri had made for them, hiding it from view. No one had tried talking to him about Anthe since they left the Omaticaya except Kiri, who did her best to reassure him that they would be fine, wherever they were. Even his parents seemed to avoid the subject, as if they had never existed, as if they had never spent the better part of a year in the family's company. 

He thought back to their last conversation, how Anthe could believe they weren’t worthy of safety or belonging within the Omatikaya. The thought that they couldn’t ever belong. At the time, he found it hard to understand. He couldn’t see how just having a different upbringing could make a person feel so separate from those around him. Unwelcome. Outsider. But, Neteyam understood it now. He felt it, here with the Metkayina, where none of his previous skills had value, and he was no longer the eldest son of the Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya. Just another demon blooded outsider. Kiri and Lo’ak had it even worse too, he knew that, even back home they had struggled. Neteyam felt like he had no right to feel this pain now, while his siblings had felt it their entire lives. At least he had his family, all together, all safe, going through the same things with him. Anthe was just alone, not knowing if their family was even alive. No wonder nothing he said had helped. No wonder they had left him when he couldn’t even understand that much. 

“{‘Teyam?}” Kiri’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, back to the beach. 

“{Kiri, hey.}” Neteyam shook himself, pocketing the knife again.

“{Are you alright?}” Kiri asked, plopping herself down beside him, and leaning close.

“{I’m fine.}” He shrugged, not looking at his younger sister.

“{Come on, Neteyam, don’t be like that.}” Kiri frowned, nudging Neteyam in the side. “{You’re worried aren’t you?}” Neteyam just shrugged again, leaning into Kiri a bit.

“{I’m fine, Kiri, I promise.}”

“{But you’re not! I know you miss Anthe and your home sick, we all are.}”

“{Kiri.}” He sighed, “{You really do not need to worry about me, I will be fine, I’m just…}”

“{Sad. You’re sad, and heart broken, and I know you would rather wallow in it but I don’t accept that. I miss Spider more than anything, but we have to trust that they will be okay. They will come back.}” Kiri spoke, holding Neteyam’s face in her hands and forcing him to look at her. Of course he knew she was right, just as she usually was. Neteyam let out a heavy sigh, slumping into his sister’s hands and letting his face squash in her palms. Kiri smiled, pinching her older brother's cheeks with a soft chuckle.

 “{Tsireya said she got her mother's permission to take us to the Spirit Tree here, you should come with us. Please, come with us.}”

“{Okay.}” Neteyam nodded finally, letting Kiri drag him back to his feet.

“{Is he coming?}” Tuk hollered, seeing her older siblings approach where she and Tsireya sat.

“{Should we try to find Lo’ak too?}”Tsireya looked to Kiri, worried expression on her soft features. The Metkayina girl had grown close with Neteyam’s younger brother, who in turn had a very obvious crush on her as well. 

“{I’m not sure he really wants to be around us yet. We can bring him next time.}” Kiri sighed.

It didn't take long for the group to reach the Metkayina’s underwater Spirit Tree, but the sun was still setting quickly in the distance. Ao’nung had excused himself before the group had left, leaving Tsireya and Rotxo to guide Neteyam and his sisters. Even from atop the waves, the view of the glowing tree below them was breathtaking. Tuk was standing excitedly on the back of Kiri’s Ilu, eager to jump straight in, while Tsireya explained that she and Rotxo would act as the Sully’s dive partners to keep them safe while they connected to the tree.

    One by one they each slipped from the backs of their Ilu and dove down into the water. Neteyam could see that Kiri especially seemed excited. She had prayed at the Brother Tree back in their home forest all the time, and was deeply spiritual compared to Neteyam and the rest of his siblings. This would be the first time in months that she could connect to Eywa again since they left. Rotxo brought Tuk to one coral-like branch of the tree while Tsireya led Neteyam and Kiri to their own, encouraging them to connect. He could see why his little brother could be falling for such a sweet girl. Carefully, he reached back for his kuru, watching the pink tendrils hidden beneath the end of his braid eagerly reach for the tree as he brought them to the branch and closed his eyes.

Neteyam was back in the forest, familiar and warm, in an area he knew quite well. He followed the small path to the pond he had brought Anthe to so long ago. It was just as he remembered, the afternoon light bleeding softly through the tree canopy above, glittering across the shifting pool like gems. It felt calm there, peaceful in a way Neteyam missed. But something still felt like it was missing, beyond just the fact that Neteyam knew he wasn’t actually there. It was calm, but it was also lonely, the lack of Anthe’s presence making itself known. 

Homesick, heartbroken, hopeless, Neteyam felt all of it. At least here, he could actually let himself feel it, finally someplace private without fear of interruption. The last time he had tried to have a moment to himself, it had been cut off by the admission from Ao’nung that Lo’ak had been abandoned out in open water, and Neteyam had been scolded for not being there to stop it. Here that wouldn’t happen, he could just be alone and feel as sad as he needed to without being a burden to anyone. It was cathartic, right up until the flashing started, suddenly pulling Neteyam from the connection, back to reality. Neteyam shook his head, trying to orient himself as Tsireya rushed past him, towards where he saw Kiri convulsing, seizing under the water.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

 “We found something.” Quaritch grinned at the group of Recoms standing around the conference room, and Anthe felt their heart drop to the pit of their stomach. There was a chorus of whooping and cheers from the soldiers around them, but Spider was stock still and pale as a ghost. Anthe did their best not to show their dread, forcing a grin and high five when Ja turned towards them to celebrate.

“We got a helicopter ping headed in the direction of this cluster of islands.” The Colonel pointed out on a holographic map, showing an area to the South West of their current location. 

“Ardmore is sending us to the RDA coastal base, here.” He pointed to an area more immediately west of Bridgehead. “Where we will catch a ride to search the islands.”

“Colonel.” Anthe managed, doing their best to seem as neutral as possible. They had only just been released from their ‘probation’, their ankle tracker finally removed, and one step closer to getting out. 

“What is it, private?”

“Are we sure it’s them? You said all that was left back at the original RDA base were scientists, could it just be a research team or something?”

“It’s possible.” Quaritch nodded. “But it's still a lead to Sully. If it's anything good, then maybe you’ll get some use outta that rifle of yours, too. Speaking of-” Quaritch motioned over to a grinning Lyle who excitedly pulled a familiar large shape from behind his back, handing it to Anthe.

“You get your piece back!” The recom grinned, clapping a hand on Anthe’s shoulder. Anthe was quick to check over the rifle, it was cleaner than they expected with a new strap, but undamaged and otherwise unchanged. The weapons' familiar weight in their hands brought with it a sense of safety Anthe hadn’t truly felt in a while, that made the smile that crossed their face feel that much more genuine. They held it close, nodding a quiet thanks to Lyle as he crossed back to his place at the Colonel’s side.

“Right.” Quaritch coughed, regaining the room's attention, an air of smugness about him that suggested he was pleased with Anthe’s reaction. “We leave in one hour, so get your shit together and be ready to go. Anthe, make sure the kid doesn’t break anything while we load up. Dismissed.”

As soon as Quaritch said the word, Anthe was half dragging Spider out of the conference room, back to their dorm. The rifle was comfortably back on their shoulder right where it belonged. Spider was silent, his hands balled into tight fists as Anthe pulled him into their room, locking the door behind them. They turned back to the man slowly, standing stock still in the middle of the room. 

“{Spider-}” Anthe started, moving towards their friend.

“{Do you think it’s them?}” Spider suddenly spun towards them, eyes panicked.

“{I don’t know.}” 

“{It can’t be them right? There shouldn’t be any reason for a helicopter to go find them unless… unless something went wrong.}” He was spiraling, eyes darting around as he was definitely imagining the worst possible reasons for the Sully’s to suddenly need a helicopter. 

“{Spider, look at me.}” Anthe knelt, tossing the rifle on the bed.

“{Something is wrong, something has to be wrong! What if someone is hurt? Lo’ak or Kiri- What if-}”

“{Spider!}” Anthe grabbed both sides of his face, forcing him to look at them. “{We won’t know until we can get out of here, okay? I need you to breathe, deep breathes.}” They placed a palm on his chest, which Spider quickly grabbed onto, trying to anchor himself. Anthe guided him in taking deep, slow breathes, until the man's heart was no longer beating so erratically under their hand.

“{Thinking up worst case scenarios is not going to help anyone right now.}”  Anthe spoke again, once Spider had somewhat calmed, and they were both sat on the cold floor of the dorm. 

“{Those idiots just gave me back my gun, and they took off the ankle tracker. All we need now is to get rid of your tracker, and find an opportunity to get out of here. If the Sully’s are on one of those islands, then the sooner we get out and warn them, the better. Okay?}”

“{Okay.}” Spider said nodding, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“{We won’t let anyone get hurt. I promise.}”

An hour later Anthe and Spider were on one of Bridgeheads roofs with the rest of the Recoms, securing their few belongings onto Anthe’s ikran before they flew out to the RDA coastal base. Spider remained quiet, largely giving everyone but Anthe the cold shoulder. Quaritch kept looking over at them, something like concern playing on his hard features. 

“Okay, Ted. Ready to go?” Anthe said quietly as they mounted their Ikran, the aforementioned Ted, who shuddered lightly as Anthe bonded to her. They leaned over, reaching a hand out to Spider and hoisting him up into their lap when he took it. 

“I still can’t believe you named her Ted.” Spider scoffed, setting himself more comfortably against their front, while Anthe made final adjustments before take off.

“Ted is a fine name, and it's better than ‘Cupcake’,” Anthe smiled, gesturing to where Quaritch was mounting up, making Spider snicker. “Or whatever Lyle named his. What was it again? Manly Barber?” 

“Malibu Barbie!” Lyle shouted from the back of his mount, sounding offended.

“Why?” Spider asked, not bothering to hide his incredulousness.

“She’s pink!” Lyle gestured to the creature's bright pink and yellow markings. Anthe and Spider looked at eachother, sharing confused shrugs.

“I don’t get it.” Anthe shook their head back at Lyle, who groaned in frustration.

“Barbie! The fashion icon! How do you not know this?!”

“I think it’s an earth thing.” Spider frowned up at Anthe, who was feeling increasingly confused.

“Wainfleet! Quit screwing around! We ready to go?” Quaritch shouted over the bickering. There was a small chorus of ‘yessir’s from the recoms, all mounted and ready on their Ikran. Quaritch signaled take off, launching into the air and taking the lead as Anthe and the other soldiers followed.

[kuebiko-writing]

The time my sister and I "reinvented" ttrpgs

The story starts with my siblings and I being homeschooled. With creative parents and no internet access--and I do mean that--our imaginations grew to epic proportions. As kids we had lots of picture books and one of our favorites was an illustrated book about the lives of people back in the day. For example, we would point at an illustration of a woman selling bread in a market and make an entire story out of it.

At some point my sister and I realized we could just use words alone, and from there we'd go on to start making stories and characters and asking "what would this character do in this situation?" and "what happened when he rang the doorbell?" and so forth. We'd piggyback off of each other's ideas and work together to tell the story. We named it the "Talking Game", and we still call it that today. It's like a ttrpg campaign where two Game Masters control the story together and play the characters against each other with no rules, dice or stats.

It really took off when I started reading Bereft by Ren Tachiba on Wattpad. I was so inspired by it that I even used the name Anzel from the second book in the series for once of my characters. That's how our story called The Secret of The Seven Realms was created. My sister and I would spend hours building the world and characters. Our parents would complain because we kept them awake at night with all our talking. It's still our most beloved game to this day.

For anyone wondering, it's a high fantasy story set in realms, the most prominent being the realm of Astartia and the realm of Sonasis, who have a friends/enemies relationship with each other. The story actually starts on earth, where a teenage boy with a speech impediment named Despite, later renamed to Lexicon, meets his long-lost father, who whisks him away to the realm of Astartia. (Don't judge the weird names, we were just kids lol) His father, Asher Heartstone is cold and demands a lot from his son, who is tasked with studying magic and learning how to navigate enemies and the strange politics of the realms which consisted of things like a very fancy magic-showdown in an arena.

We developed iconic characters like my sister's character, Hercules Sonasis, an arrogant realm prince who loves to be the center of attention, is addicted to human-world coffee and wears platform boots because he hates to be seen as short. One of my own characters I came to love is Anzel Heartstone, Lexicon's uncle. A High Fae who was cast out of his own kingdom and reinvented himself as a Sanatrix (a healer). Most of his time is spent in his garden or workshop or in the forest foraging for mushrooms. He has a talent for making magic tapestries out of people's hair and spends far too much time stealing snippets of his nephew's hair.

The Secret of The Seven Realms is at least six years old now!

Currently, my sister @bennydelune and I are playing a story called A Pact of Blood (placeholder title) about two Houses that stand in conflict with each other until an old enemy rises from the ashes, forcing them to either unite, or fall into desolation. In this evening's session, Lord Thorne and Lord Bastien of House of Lightshard and House of Nightwing have been accused of murder and imprisoned by Merlin, the prince who is about to inherit the throne. Lord Bastien's son goes to the palace to see him, only to find the two Lords locked in the dungeon under the influence of a powerful illusion that keeps them placid. The session ended with the arrival of the villain and Lord Bastien's wife, who was thought to be dead for years.

I'm so excited to see where it goes from here! I'm having so much fun with it and it got so cool with new plot twists and juicy backstories that I want to make it a novel. If you've read this far, then that's probably what I'm going to be posting about from now on. I've been wanting to write a novel since forever, and this gives me a really good foundation to write something awesome!

Anyway, that's how we sort of reinvented ttrpgs. 😅 I was so happy when I discovered they were actually a thing! I think I'd love to be a DM/GM someday.

[miracles-and-butterflies]

Felix head canons?

Absolutely! Here are my headcanons for Félix:

Félix’s family was from Santa Marta, Colombia

His parents are called Adriano and Benita Estrada

He was the youngest of seven siblings. His siblings were much older than him though, so he was left out of their games

He loves playing outdoors, through all kinds of weather

After starting school, Félix became best friends with Bruno, much to the frustration of Pepa

He has never had any problem with Pepa

He attended dance class with the triplets, which was where he first met Julieta and they also became friends

Because of his friendship with Julieta and Bruno, he was always welcomed to Casita and ranked very highly in Alma’s good books

He was considered the best of the class and won a few awards

He was also one of the best players of Encanto’s football team. He would later become the coach as a young adult

Félix is bisexual

He can play the tiple and bandola

He works as a musician in Encanto and plays at many different events

He also runs the local kids choir, all the Madrigal children were in it at some point

When Julieta started dating Agustín, Félix and Bruno fully adopted him into their friendship group. Again, to the annoyance of Pepa

He, Agustín and Bruno are the ultimate trio

Because of this friendship, Félix was an even me frequent visitor in Casita. This was purposeful as he wanted to see Pepa; this was when he began having feelings for her

It took years for Pepa to realise

He ended up just pulling her in for a kiss (a habit they would both end up doing - see The Family Madrigal); frankly she got the message

Félix is a particularly good cook and he usually works together with Julieta in the kitchen for big evens (gift ceremonies, proposals, etc)

Félix helped Agustín practise his proposal song for six weeks

It took her many, many years before she dropped her grudge against Félix. And even more before she realised Félix had a crush on her

Félix and Pepa married in December, 1928

Yes, in a hurricane

Dolores came prematurely, Félix was the one who kept up hope that she’d make it

Baby Dolores was a very quiet baby, until she started talking, which came unusually quick for babies. Her first word was “Papí”

Félix, coming from a big family, and Pepa, having always wanted children of her own, expected to have at least five or six - unfortunately, Pepa struggled to have children

Pepa would later have a miscarriage between Camilo and Antonio. It was another boy

The baby is buried alongside Pedro; Félix visits the grave often to pay his respects, sometimes he will quietly play his tiple

Baby Camilo was the exact opposite to his sister, loud and always craving attention

In addition to raising baby Camilo, Félix also kept an eye on Mirabel during the early months when nobody (besides Luisa and Pepa) would interact with her

Félix learnt sign language following Dolores’ gift ceremony and taught her for when she got too overwhelmed by noise

He was very disheartened over Bruno’s vision for Dolores or rather Dolores’ comments of her never finding love - though he doesn’t blame Bruno for it, he does think Bruno could have broken the news to her a little better

He taught all three of the children to play football. It was chaos, to say the least. Camilo is genuinely really good; Antonio and Luisa enjoy playing for fun; Isabela is a competitive shit; Dolores (who can actually play) and Mirabel just chat at the sidelines and don’t actually play

He would sing his children to sleep

He is one of the only people who can always tell when Camilo is shapeshifting, which is why he always catches him out (such as when trying to steal Dolores’ breakfast). He claims Camilo can never properly nail other people’s posture

Camilo copies Félix’s methods for calming down Pepa and Dolores

When Luisa would try to do his, Agustín and Mirabel’s chores for them, Félix would hide the equipment (brooms, mops, buckets) to prevent her from doing so

He usually helps Isabela in the garden, as Agustín is a bit of a hazard and Julieta is terrible with plants

Antonio was the most difficult pregnancy

Baby Antonio also found Pepa’s weather to be good white noise for sleeping. Even after he moved into the nursery, he would still creep back into his parents’ bedroom. Félix would usually catch him doing so and welcome him with open arms, while Pepa slept on

He takes the children to see Adriano and Benita (almost) every Saturday

In spite of being the more calm of him and Pepa, he’s the (slightly less) strict parent

Much to the frustration of Camilo, Félix will let Antonio get away with everything: it’s the baby privilege

He has a bet with Bruno on which of the children will not end up in jail at some point in their lives; his money is securely on Mirabel

If he or Julieta aren’t there, Luisa is in charge of the kitchen - they have taught her well

He wants to take his wife and children on holiday out of Encanto at some point, but is unsure of how Alma will take it

Definitely cries through each of his children’s proposals

He wants to live long enough to see all his children find love and happiness, as he has done with Pepa

[the-lincyclopedia]

41, 58, 69!

41. last person you texted?

My partner's mom, actually! Yesterday I texted her a picture of a Frida Kahlo notebook I got recently, since she's a Frida Kahlo fan, and she wrote me back today and I just responded. This is the first time in my life I've felt anywhere close to having in-laws, and I feel like I'm getting a good grade in being her kid's partner, something that is normal to want and possible to achieve.

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

Ooh, you're gonna make me be proud of myself? Okay, here we go.

1) To paraphrase something one of my coworkers said about me yesterday, I am the Chicago Manual of Style incarnate. I know all the grammar and punctuation rules you could possibly want to know. I am a damn good copy editor, and I'm also pretty fast at it.

2) I'm really good at what I call "abstracting properly"--that is, I'm good at figuring out what the relevant principles at play in a situation are, and from there how to ask questions that get at the different things to consider when trying to figure out right and wrong in a particular circumstance.

To take a recent example, I responded to a post about the US Supreme Court and wrote about how "there's a fundamental tension--competing goods, I'd say--between being able to articulate, point to, share, and agree on the details of a specific set of principles, on the one hand, and adapting to the times, on the other hand." I am good at looking at problems that way, basically in real time.

3) I'm really good at being organized. It just comes naturally to me. I love sorting things (it's the autism), and I love knowing where things are and being able to find them quickly. I tag so consistently that I can find almost any post from my blog from the past few years in a matter of minutes. My Google Drive is an intricate system with layers upon layers of sub-folders. In physical space I'm a little bit messier, but I still know where almost all my stuff is.

4) I'm pretty good at language learning. I think I overstate this talent to myself sometimes, and then I run into an unfamiliar language and get frustrated when I'm not immediately fluent, but I am significantly better at language learning than average. At [location redacted], I was the only kid anyone in my cohort could remember who was placed in the highest Swedish class their first year in the program.

Meanwhile, in school, I took Spanish one in seventh grade, Spanish two in eighth grade, Spanish three freshman year, skipped Spanish four, took Spanish five sophomore year, and was one of three kids in the whole (2000+ student) school taking Spanish six my junior year. I got a five out of five on the AP Spanish test my sophomore year of high school, and my senior year of high school I got a seven out of seven on the IB Spanish B Higher Level exam and a six out of seven on the IB Swedish B Standard Level exam. Like, I know people who are better at languages than I am, and you're probably one of them, but my results are definitely better than average.

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

This is such a good question, but I'm completely blanking! I feel like I try to keep track of where I get my information, even if sometimes it's as fuzzy as just knowing that I heard the thing on Tumblr. Occasionally I meet people who can cite the exact sources of their knowledge (like, full name of the author of the book or article they read something in), and I can't usually do that, but I try to avoid thinking I know things when I have no source.

When I was in school, I definitely enjoyed citing sources from outside the syllabus in my papers--usually books I'd read for previous classes or articles I'd run across on my own. Which was definitely made easier by the fact that I tend to remember where I learned things.

Get in on the ask game!

[sixfoottwo0119]

Column Vivianne Miedema | That full playing calendar is just a shame

Columnist Vivianne Miedema thinks the full playing calendar is a disgrace. She sees many top players drop out due to injuries. “We are in a world that goes on and on and there are few players who say anything about it. I do.”

Karim Benzema, Sadio Mane, Paul Pogba, N'Golo Kante. All top players that we now have to miss at the World Cup due to injuries. Injuries are also common in women's football. My partner Beth Mead has been out for months and will miss next summer's World Cup. My teammate Leah Williamson at Arsenal has also been out for a long time with an injury.

It's all no coincidence. Sure, injuries are sometimes unstoppable, but I see a worrying pattern. The playing calendar for both the women and the men is simply too full. Actually, it's just a shame. We are in a world that goes on and on and there are few players who say anything about it. I do. We go completely crazy with the tax on football players. I can already draw out some of the reactions to this column, you know. We have the best profession in the world, we earn a lot of money and we don't have to complain. Just play football.

“For the past six, seven years, I've been going practically non-stop. That will pay off.”

But it doesn't work that way for me. I really enjoy football and I feel privileged. But that doesn't mean we should ignore our health. At the beginning of this month I deliberately took a step back. I felt that my body and mind were ready for a rest. For people who do not work in top sport, that will sound strange. People who do work in our world will understand it better. But many players don't feel that freedom to stand up for themselves or just want to continue in their tunnel.

The schedule in which we train, play and have obligations from the club is killer. Last year, with the Olympic Games, I had two weeks off. That's pretty extreme. For the past six, seven years, I've been going practically non-stop. That will pay off. If you don’t have a mental rest, the risk of injury is also greater.

National coach Andries Jonker has had an eye for this important subject during the last period with international practice matches. He deliberately did not call me and other internationals. I have also started the item at my club Arsenal. My coach Jonas Eidevall was initially surprised by my request, but soon found that I was right. I spent a large part of the European Championship last summer in my hotel room with corona. After that, the preparation for the season started almost immediately. I went through in one go and I paid the price for that. I had to get out and went to Australia in those two weeks. Away from football. In that period I missed one game, against Leicester City.

Football players need much better protection. Many coaches and agents look out for their own interests. I do understand that trainers have to win matches and therefore want to line up their best players. But to what extent does result take precedence over the safety of a player? And a good agent also looks at the long term, but unfortunately the practice is different. We now have only thirteen fit players at Arsenal. I hope one day we'll realize that it's all way too crazy right now.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

"Petty" for the wip game

This fic is actually complete. Short but thorough. I have a friend who really liked his Maria with my Matt, and this was his Christmas present one year, so it's old and kinda cringeworthy and kind of smutty, and I don't really stand by it anymore, but it's kind of nice, I think.

Vancouver, 1995

“I never noticed you don't own a rosary,” Maria asked him one morning. She lay in a beam of buttery yellow sunlight, and he thought of technicolour marigold altars. A riot of colours he wanted to paint her body in, maybe outlined in a bright, crystalline, sugar-skull white of the sheets. She is gold, in her real sunshine. “Or even keep one on the wall.”

“I'm not that Catholic.” He shrugged.

“Sure you are, tabernako,” The pads of her fingers rested on his thigh for a long moment. He thought she might want to go again, that the seven orgasms weren't enough, but she tapped him thoughtfully instead. His profanity was Catholic, sure. But he didn't know how to say that. It didn't mean he believed in much.

“I think the first thing I can remember my father giving me is a rosary,” She said. “White ivory and gold. It's in a museum now, in the capital.”

“It sounds beautiful.” He replied lightly.

“Antonio's a piece of shit, but he has good taste,” Mari stretched, her entire body arching in a way that made him itch to paint. “At least the Catholics have an aesthetic.”

“I think I've got a higher rate of protestants than you, though.” Matthew pointed out. “I'm not so Catholic anymore.”

Mari laughed like the porcelain bells that he often saw on the porches of her neighbours. “You apologized when I only came six times. If that's not Catholic guilt I don't know what is.”

He snorted and shrugged again. “Just making up for what you spend on dairy when I come over.”

“You do consume more crema than anyone I've ever met. Even for a white boy.” She pondered this a moment. “Mostly white boy. Whatever. So you don't have them? Or you've never had them. The worry beads, I mean.”

“I have one.” He said, standing and opening the old trunk at the end of the bed to take it out from where it still lay. Father had never approved of it. Black and wooden and plain, he'd carved it from Scottish oak scraps while stuck in bed after the handover.

“It's pretty.” She said. It wasn't, and they both knew it, but he thanked her anyway.

“Monsieur Bonnefoy gave me one when I was born.” He said. “Black stone beads. It had his bulla in the center. Rome gave it to him, I guess. It was set under a plate with the virgin stamped in iron to attach it. To keep me safe.”

“Thoughtful of him.” She said dryly. "Strange how they're always squabbling over the sons of Rome."

He flushed, thinking of France's invasion in the 1860s. “Sorry.”

“What happened to it?” She said, batting his apology away with a wave of her hand. She rolled onto her back, her hair a cloud of wildfire smoke around her golden face, and he pillowed her head in his thigh and leaned against the headboard, playing with her hair. She liked that, she'd said once because he didn't mess with the pattern of her curls. “In a museum in Ottawa?”

“No,” Matt said. “He took it back. It was in their agreement, his and Father's. Monsieur Bonnefoy took his name and his protection back. Property too, but his politicians had already taken that back when they fled anyway. So my rosary and a few little odds and ends went back in a box. I had a set of apostles spoons from Uncle Alasdair he took back too, even though my uncle was my godfather.”

“That's petty.”

“That's Monsieur Bonnefoy for you.” Matt shrugged.

“I suppose at least you're not still paying him for the privilege of being colonized.” She said.

“Did your father take anything back?”

“You mean besides the pile of silver he dug out of me?” She raised a brow.

“Ah,” Matt said, feeling guilty all of a sudden. Maybe he was Catholic. “I just kept Elizabeth on the money and Dad's content.”

“Aren't you a lucky one,” She teased. “Now, why don't you get back down there and make your brother jealous all the way from Japan.”

“Well,” Matthew grinned, his angsty bullshit mood gone in a moment. Her thigh was warm when he kissed it. “He did say we had to get to know each other.”

“I'd—” She gasped. “I'd say we're getting…” The little intake of breath she made was better than praise. “To know each other.”

Send me a word, if it’s in one of my wip documents I’ll answer your ask with the sentence that it appears in

[iamjustalittle]

ABO, Mpreg, Alpha Max / Omega Daniel, ~800 Words.

This was the first fic that I wrote about Maxiel when my friend asked me to take a look at this madness of a couple. And I did and went insane. So the dynamic is not very exactly what I think they will share if I write it again but I think it is kinda funny nevertheless.

Family Day was usually Daniel's responsibility. Daniel was super popular among kids, parents, and teachers – at this point, it was no surprise. Every time he went to pick up Jasper, their little boy, he brought some snacks and bribed many of the kids' classmates, which went a very long way.

Although Daniel loved Family Day very much and even wanted to take the opportunity from Max again, the healthy development of a child required both fathers to do their jobs. It was really weird how he got to this point if you thought about seven years ago. Daniel had been (literally) screaming like a pile of chicken in front of the mirror when he took a look at the pregnancy test and woke up Max, who went straight into full panic mode. He had only had some dumbass experiences with kids, them flopping to the ground and crying, and he had been dying, laughing his brain out by their side.

How he had made it this far, he had no clue, but for one, Daniel was very proud of himself.

He had to comfort himself with something good because Max going to Family Day alone was stressing him out. Max was a very good dad, don't get him wrong, but sometimes they, both of them, pulled some ridiculous dad shit that a dad would do.

The theme of Family Day was to build electric toy cars. Parents and kids worked together, and based on the results of a series of small games, they could choose different parts to assemble the final car. Finally, the cars raced on a 100-meter track on the playground.

Both Verstappens were very serious. Between the two, one was much more serious than the other—one of them went to the teachers almost at every step to discuss the reasonableness of the race design. Well, this indeed put the teachers and the principal in an awkward position. This seriousness could be understood because Family Day was planned based on the parents' different professions, and the WDC was probably not included in the teachers' prepared plans originally. Max thought they should. This was Monaco, at the end of the day.

Things finally got out of control when they were ready to bring the race cars on the scene. Little Verstappen had probably never been treated this way by his dad, as Max just snatched away the better toy tire that they won from the previous game. He faced his deflated tire on his toy car and watched his dad write on his own car: "No.1 Verstappen."

"Daddy," he poked Max's waist. "I am No.1 Verstappen."

"Who said that?" Max raised the toy car in his hand and examined it from the back (rear wing), actually not even giving his son a glance.

"Papa. Papa said I am the best Verstappen!" the son said proudly, patting his chest.

"Papa's number is 3. How does he know who No.1 is?" Max said sincerely. "Papa is lying to you. I think I am No.1, and everyone can see that. I mean you also have Ricciardo in your name!”

Jasper just could not understand what he was talking about. He’s six. But Max just kept going.

“And you know, daddy’s name is Max. Do you know what Max means? Max means the greatest in English. Which means No.1.”

“And also the first No.1 to your papa. Most importantly.” He added. Sebastian’s face showed up in his mind for a moment, which made his voice even louder and clearer.

At least this time his son got the memo.

When Daniel arrived at the scene, his son was still sobbing in the teacher's arms and didn't want to come out. Max stood beside the teacher, looking helpless, with messy hair and shirt. He tried to coo and had no luck whatsoever. He scratched his head, also on the edge of freaking out as he glanced at Daniel, with a scent full of chaos. "We haven't even competed... He has been crying! Why is he crying?"

Daniel's veins were about to pop from his head. He apologized to the teacher, half-knelt in front of little Ricciardo-Verstappen, wiped his tears, hurriedly offered him a strawberry lollipop, and then hugged him, patting Jasper’s back, while giving Max a stern look. "What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything, I mean, my car is just a little better than his, that's the truth..."

An Alpha being stared at by an Omega and retreating, how strange. Max began to pull his hair again, and he started to explain with his hands everywhere. "I said I am the number one Verstappen... You shouldn't lie to him because I mean you love…"

"Max Verstappen," Daniel interrupted. "Shut your mouth."

[ginger-grimm]

Hi can you tell me why there is two cinderella's and rapunzel's in ooat? is it a canon plot point or retcon? i only watched the first season.

Oooo, thank you for letting me use my rewatch knowledge to gush about this situation, nonnie!

SPOILERS AHEAD (tho I do recommend finishing the show, at least the first 6, if you ever find the time):

So, throughout the first six seasons, Cinderella (Ashley), played by Jessy Schram, had three more appearances in the universe post-season 1. One very brief one in the Pilot of Once Upon a Time in Wonderland, one in season 4 (The Snow Queen), and her final appearance in the show was in her second and last stand-alone episode in season six, The Other Shoe. Season six was about Untold Stories in the beginning and The Other Shoe details how Tremaine and Ashley's stepsister Clorinda ended up in the Land of Untold Stories and when they get back to Storybrooke, Ashley has to face off against Tremaine. The episode ends with Ashley and Clorinda happy with their respective husband and fiance, and Tremaine being punished for her actions. Therefore, the original Ella's story had a happy ending and was done.

In season seven, essentially a soft reboot of the show, Henry has graduated school and wants to discover other versions of classic stories, most importantly his own, and he ends up meeting Cinderella (now played by Dania Ramirez in a different iteration, from a different Realm) and long story short, they get married and have a kid. Her story is a lot bigger (but strangely she does barely anything in the season at the same time) than original Ella's but I could have done without her entirely. Dania Ramirez did her best but they didn't give her much and I would have rather they made Henry's girlfriend from earlier seasons his wife.

Now Rapunzel (played by Alexandra Metz originally) had one stand-alone episode in season 3 (The Tower), which mostly deviated from the Tangled movie and the original story but still had Rapunzel reunite with her parents again. The Tower was original Rapunzel's one and only appearance in the show.

Now, season seven Rapunzel is a whole other monster. I absolutely despise the direction they took with the character in this new iteration and let me explain why. Her first appearance this season is in the episode entitely "Eloise Gardener", where Meegan Warner plays a much more Tangled version of the character. However, at the end of the episode it is revealed that Rapunzel is not Rapunzel at all and that she is actually Mother Gothel, who pretended to be her to get Wish Realm Hook to impregnate her so she could escape the tower she got locked in and leave her daughter (Wish Realm Alice in Wonderland) to take her place. Real Rapunzel comes back in two episodes later (One Little Tear) and in this episode it is revealed that Rapunzel was actually Lady Tremaine the whole time. She was locked in the tower for stealing vegetables from Gothel, leaving behind her husband and two daughters for years. When she manages to escape from the tower and returns home (guided by the lanterns), she finds her husband remarried to Ella's mother and her younger daughter, Drizella, estranged from her. They all try to make it work for a while but it doesn't for Rapunzel, so she ends up cursing her husband and Ella's mother's hearts which has Ella's mother flee to Wonderland where she is killed by the Jabberwocky and Tremaine ends up killing her husband after Anastasia breaks through ice and Gothel has to preserve her last breath (and therefore her body). Rapunzel is the one who locked Gothel in the tower after Gothel manipulated her into getting rid of Ella's mother and Anastasia's accident.

Present day curse has Victoria (Tremaine) try everything to revive Anastasia as she did in the other realm too and still hating Drizella for being estranged from her all those years ago. Drizella has been playing her own game all along and cursed everyone to Seattle. In the end, Victoria is killed in a sacrifice to revive Lucy (Henry and Ella's daughter) and mother and daughter sort of make up but it's a dumb ending to a dumb plot twist all around.

[agorejessstone]

How Hira Changed My Life - DRAMA

At just 29 years old, I was diagnosed with Uterine Cancer.

Sort of the cherry on top of a sundae made Sjogren's.

As the eldest daughter of a lower middle class American family, I was responsible for more than just my education growing up.

While I was an avid writer, reader, dancer, artist, and vocalist, I was never given the same opportunities as my siblings. When they were being totted off to this practice or that recital, I was forced to focus on my homework, and whichever sibling was not old enough to attend.

That's not to say I didn't get to play a sport or join a club here and there, but overall, I was heading down a path of self destruction.

A people pleaser, avidly ignoring all the issues I'd acquired along the way, in pursuit of other's happiness.

There is nothing quite like a near-death experience to make you reevaluate your life.

6 years ago, I beat cancer, or at least, began my journey into remission, where I remain for the time being.

I decided that it was time to put down the dish rag, quit all but one of my three jobs, and get to know myself better. I'd carried the need to be the caretaker in to adulthood, and the effects were devastating.

I set out to write and publish my first full length novel. I'd written plenty before, but I never had the time, energy, or confidence to publish.

In July of 2021, I published my very first novel in a six part series that I am still working on today: Legend of the Sylph, but that wasn't all I wanted to do.

In 2016, I'd started a podcast, during my diagnosis, I'd been forced to focus on my health, and put that podcast on hold.

By 2018, fond memories resurfaced, and I decided it was time to try again. Heiress Anonymous was born as a faceless online artist, with a heart of gold, and a lot of stories to tell. I even included a weekly advice section, and things were going pretty well.

Until my youngest brother took his own life January 2019, 2019.

Being one of only two siblings that I was close to, and only 19, that loss shook the very core of our family, and it nearly defeated me a second time.

Struggling to keep my depression, anxiety, PTSD and bipolar under control, I did the only thing I thought I could do.

I got help.

During my inpatient therapy, I spent a lot of time reflecting on what made me happy, so that when I left that place, I could find something, anything, that made life seem less like wading through the layers of hell, slowly as an ant through tar.

I'd lost so many pieces of myself and I was tired of slapping a bandaid on a gaping wound and telling myself, and everyone else, it was just a scratch.

Dealing with everyone else's needs and desires, while neglecting my own was causing my Sjogren's to flare up more often than it should. My body wasn't cooperating, and my mind, oh that poor fella was more foggy than a black and white film.

Again, I started to do things I was passionate about.

I started with an online game after Duskwood's completion.

Each month, I'd write a new story, and a team of artists would help me develop a location map, clues, and characters for up to 30 people to play. It was the most fun I'd had in a while.

During this time, I was also playing other immersive games.

Mystic Messenger, The Seven Endgame series, and The Sign.

During my playthrough of the Seven series, I happened upon some... rather cancellable translation errors. In a moment of "Please don't cancel the only games I enjoy", I typed up an email to Reality Games, the developers, offering to scan the rest of their games for similar issues.

I was surprised when my wonderful friend Mel emailed me back, offering to let me test and correct The Healing, their upcoming title.

I accepted right away.

Then I had a thought... What if I took the team I'd been working on games with, made an actual game?

Astro Hollow was born. (Hopefully we'll be completed by 2025. It's not easy now that I have such a small team.)

During The Healings production, I asked if there were any unfilled roles. After knowing me for some time. Mel suggested Hira, and the rest is history.

Reality Games Fandom group was started on FB.

There, I met many great fans.

And some not so great fans.

One of them stood out to me. Stefi, who plays Ina.

She came to me as a fan, but we became fast friends. Similar to some of the others. She expressed her desire to become a voice actress, but was hesitant.

I spent weeks, months even, building her up, encouraging her, offering to help coach her lines, etc.

I introduced her to the group, set her up to mod the RG Fandom so she could learn the ropes and get used to fan engagement.

I even invited her to co-host a podcast.

Things seemed to be running smoothly. Until she decided that she was too busy to steam, but with the German meet and great looming, and her insistence that she go, I wholeheartedly understood.

I offered to hold her place on the podcast, until she had more time.

Tongue Tied Games and I had chatted before on reddit. Imagine my surprise at how small the world is, when I found out he played Charlie! We streamed together for the first time about a year ago, and we just clicked.

Preston and I became fast friends as well. (Cedrik - The Sign EN) His sense of humor is the stuff of legends.

I met all sorts of nice people.

Serge definately stands out to me. Such an amazing, witty guy.

I can't say enough good things about the Author's.

Daniel and Tim especially.

I'd forgotten how dark the internet can be, with all the light surrounding me.

I hadn't stopped to think about the fans, and how this could easily turn into an introverts parasocial hellscape.

For months, I tried to be the bigger person.

I ignored the whispers, the rumors, the blatant disrespect, but something happened that made me realize that if I don't stick up for myself, no one else will.

So here I am, explaining how one of the most important turning points in my life, has become the darkest time.

A fan, whom I will not name, and whom I've never had a conversation with, immediately disliked me. For the past 8 months, I've tried and tried and tried to figure out who or what or why this happened. They don't seem to know themselves. But to anyone that would listen, I was "mean". I didn't "value my friendships".

I was so dead set on not disrupting the community I loved, that I didn't speak up.

Ina was one of those people who turned their back on me.

I asked them why they'd take their word over mine, after everything I'd done.

I'd vouched for them, coached them, let them sit with me while I edit, introduced them to the group, supported them, helped them learn and grow, shared with them, both professionally and privately.

I could not fathom this turn of events.

In fact, I had not even considered it as the catalyst for her quitting the podcast.

It wasn't until a very dear friend of mine, nearly took her life, because she was bullied by this very same member (I'd give you there name, but honestly, I suspect there are many many names they go by) that I'd finally had it.

See what I mean?

I'm quick to defend and protect other people, but I'll let others tear me apart before I disrupt the peace.

I reached out to my mods, and let them know what was happening. They were appalled, to say the least. One even tried to mediate, but of course that didn't work out.

There was nothing to mediate.

This was a para social nightmare.

Growing up, being sickly, I'd never found myself beautiful, but in recent years, that has changed.

Health and happiness have made me a better person, physically and mentally.

Imagine my surprise when I was edged out by women who were intimidated by me, in a group that I was part of, long before most of them.

Imagine consitently helping others, and being forced to step back for a few months, only to come back to someone new, determined to make themselves "Queen PICK ME" or some shit.

I truly still do not understand it.

I've tried countless times to figure it out, but in the end, these are people who want to keep someone to themselves.

Who flirt with a stranger online, thinking they know them, but chastise anyone else who dares to do the same.

I'd seen it.

I'd recognized it.

I choose to ignore it.

FFS - I've got someone I care about already. Who in their right mind would intentionally ruin that for someone they've never even met? Someone they don't know? That's just a silly thought to have.

It has to be jealousy....

Do you know how many times I've been told that, and chose to ignore it, because I cannot fathom what there is to be jealous of?

After I shared my story with mods, the universe answered with a call of it's own.

Message after message from others within the community, who'd been wronged by this person.

Who'd felt unwelcome in the community.

Who'd been attacked, bullied even, out of the groups.

I was shattered.

A near death, a dozen victims.

I reached out to the group owners, and cleaned up my own, but no one made a move to correct the behavior.

Is that what being an "influencer" is?

Should I be reaping the benefits without any of the responsibility?

No.

I refuse to let people suffer, because I don't want to speak up.

I was scared, truth be told, because I thought if I just ignored it, it would go away.

By time I realized that wasn't the case, so many other people had been influenced by this person's word.

This person, whom I'd never had a conversation with.

This person, who I'd promoted their "fan art".

This person, who was continually looking for excuses to hate me.

This person, who clearly knows nothing about me.

And yet, this person was going to win.

I haven't said a word in 8 months.

I've blocked and removed myself where ever I can, but this person, these people really, still haunt me.

The horde gets larger every day I stay silent.

The one who said they weren't feeling the podcast, took the name I had for the post finale of Orphans, and the people I had invited, and did their own, but I knew that was happening, and said nothing.

Until someone came to me and asked me, "Weren't you the reason that Stefi joined the cast as Ina?"

I replied yes, and the flood gates opened.

Stefi was a fan.

She came to me as Hira. Said she liked the character.

We started to chat. Became friends.

I encouraged her to email her audition to the team.

I reached out to the team and told them to give her a chance.

I coached her lines from the first few episodes.

I GOT HER THE ROLE AS INA.

She now gives credit to TT.

If you don't believe me, I have the podcasts still up on YouTube, where we talk about it in detail.

At first, I was sure that she was being manipulated.

Part of the reason that I was adamant that she join the team, was who she is as a person.

She's LGBTQ and on the spectrum. It's very important to me, especially after all of my struggles, to make sure that everyone finds something they're passionate about and doesn't let anything hold them back.

For months I thought she was being taken advantage of. Manipulated.

To discover otherwise was absolutely heartbreaking for me.

Imagine how shattered I was, when someone from the German fan meet up, said she's been telling people that since the German Fan Meet and Great in AUGUST 2023.

I feel used.

I'm at a low I'm not sure I can recover from, especially because she continues to say and do things just to get at me.

I've done what I can to block and move on, and I continue to leave communities I cherish, because of these ghosts.

It's like I'm Sandy, but for real this time, and trapped in that damned Orphanage.

Will we share a similar fate?

Will I let devistation consume me?

Have I made the right decisions?

Time will tell.

I'm leaving most names out of this on purpose, but I'm setting the record straight on how Ina came to be part of the community.

I'm so sick and tired of supporting people from behind the curtain, while actively being used as a doormat.

I love working for RG.

This has nothing to do with the company itself.

Cast will be what cast will be.

I love voice acting. I love writing, so even the editing process is fulfilling, but man I still had a lot to learn about how selfish the industry is.

How competitive.

How jealous and manipulative.

Watching people argue over someone they've never met.

Someone they've never seen.

Someone they don't know.

Watching them gatekeep the communities they stay in, running off anyone who isn't an OG.

Kind of defeats the purpose of supporting that creator, when you're driving good people out.

I'm starting to wonder if the internet isn't going to be our downfall.

If we'll ever truly understand the effects of parasocial relationships.

While I love the work I do, and many of the people who follow me, I cannot condone gatekeeping, lying, manipulation, cheating, stealing, copying, and outright bullying.

Stay in your lane.

At the end of the day, you don't know me.

Very few of you do.

You don't know her, him, they, them.

You just don't.

Speaking or acting on the behalf of others, lying about the people who helped get you where you are, no matter how you feel about them, is just plain messed up.

As with everything else in my life, I've learned a lot here.

I don't love parasocial relationships.

They fascinate me, until they piss me off.

Obviously this is NOT all of what occurred here. There are plenty of screenshots, and stories, but the bottom line is that I'm being pushed around, and I'm tired of staying silent. I work too hard, and help too many people, while barely being able to lift my head up to do so.

I've had it.

If you want to join a discord community where bullying, will not be tolerated: https://discord.gg/C6Edjk3AhX

Please remember. Just because you recognize their face and you know about them through the internet, does not mean you KNOW them.

Please treat actors/streamers as human beings, but also as "entertainers".

Respect their privacy.

Do not speak on their behalf.

Do not bully their followers, even if they are extremely hands off, or they expect the community to police.

You can easily turn one of the BEST things that's ever happened to someone, into one of the worst.

The results can be deadly.

[samieree]

Born in Flames || Game of Thrones

OC x ?😏

-> Chapter XX ''A necklace and a clasp''

Chapter XXI ''Gentle heart''

Robb thought nothing would surprise him in life anymore. He knew how twisted fate could be and how strange things could happen to you - it was mainly about that necklace out of nowhere. But he didn't expect to be so 'lucky' as to meet Stannis Baratheon, especially here, so close to the Wall, right after defending the castle.

It seems he doesn't deserve even a moment of peace.

He had never met Stannis in person before, but he tried to make a deal with him during the war, but he spurned his help, calling him a usurper.

He was not very pleased with this meeting, and especially didn't want to hear words of sympathy regarding the Red Wedding. Stannis only scratched his wounds and didn't gain his sympathy in any way.

Additionally, standing in front of him while he was sitting comfortably at his desk... He already felt judged and placed below him. He wanted to tell him to get to the point and stop spouting empty words of sympathy that he probably doesn't even mean.

"It's not too late." he finally said, it seemed as if Stannis was finally getting to the point. "Bemnd the knee, swear allegiance to me, and I will give you back the North."

His pride had not suffered enough to make him repent and fall to his knees. True, he would like to take the North back from the traitors who took it from him by deceit, he would like to rebuild the castle, to be able to live there again...

But his own inside was at odds with itself. On the one hand, something tells him that he doesn't deserve it, that he should step aside and let someone else deal with it... But his heart begs him  to not give up so easily, to avenge the people who gave their lives so that he could be saved.  It actually kept him on his toes and helped take his mind off the self-blame.

Maybe his heart will finally speak to that voice that this tragedy is in the past and he must move forward while he still can and try to make amends for his mistakes.

"It's not yours, you can't give it anyone." he replied without hesitation. Some might say it's not very intelligent to speak like that to someone who calls himself the King of the Seven Kingdoms and could easily demand your head, but if the Northmen haven't given up on him, he won't give up on them.

They named him King in the North and saved him, so he has to repay the debt. Maybe they'll give him a chance.

He must think first of all about his people, not himself.

"But it will be." he answered, but he didn't look upset yet. He was very confident, convinced of his victory, even if he had not achieved it yet. "As soon as I defeat the Boltons." exactly... 'as soon as' or rather 'if'. "And I will need the Warden of the North."

"How many men do you have?" Robb asked, instead of answering his unspoken demand.

"Six thousand."

"And how many will die along the way?" he asked, slightly raising an eyebrow. "How many sellswords will leave you when the winter becomes too harsh for them? You won't have enough left to take the castle, let alone the entire North."

"The Lords of the North will follow you." Robb refrained from sighing and looking away. He just demands all the time and has nothing to give in return. "You know this girl, Lyanna Mormont?" Stannis took out a rolled, small letter, which Robb immediately focused on.

"I knew her mother." he admitted.

Involuntarily his thoughts returned to the war. He knew Maege Mormont, for all he knew she had died fighting for him during the war. Stannis only confirmed these suspicions now...

"She's ten years old and the Lady of Bear Island. I asked her to support me and this is what she replied." he handed the letter to Stark to read it himself.

The letter said: "Bear Island knows no King, but the King in the North, whose name is Stark."

"It just proves that they won't bend the knee to you."  he said, shrugging and handing the letter back to Stannis. "If I swear allegiance to you, they will despise me and feel betrayed. I'm sorry, but I respect my people more than you."

The last sentence shattered Stannis' proud, especially since he believed that Robb would be more cooperative in his current situation. But the boy had more spirit than he expected. Does he really need to start threatening him to make him understand that he is in no position to question his decisions?

"I could just hand you over to the Lannisters now and distract them from me, you know that, boy?"

"Don't call me a boy." throughout the entire conversation, Robb never once addressed Stannis by his title. In fact, Davos pointed this out to him at the beginning, but he deflected it with the words: 'He will be king when he sits on the Iron Throne. For now, he is only the rightful heir, which I fully agree with.' "You could have had the Iron Throne a long time ago if it weren't for your pride. But you chose to call me a usurper and despise my support when I still had an army behind me. We could destroy the Lannisters and you would have six kingdoms, instead you have none."

Stannis wished he could somehow respond well to these words and take Robb down a peg or two once and for all, but he had no counterargument to this statement.

* * *

Funny, she spends most of her time as Queen of Meereen in the audience hall, listening to people. Today she was wearing a light, white silk dress with long, wide sleeves and an open back - because of this she wore an equally snow-white cape, which was held in place by a clasp which origin she did not know.

It must have belonged to that boy. She decided not to throw it away or hide it somewhere at the bottom of her trunks, but to always keep it with her in some way so that she could give it back to its owner when she meet him.

Another man entered the room and up the stairs to the place to make his request. Missandei introduced her once again that day.

"Kirimvose syt ūndegon nyke, aōha dārōñe." he said, bowing. "Brōzio ñuha iksis Fennesz."

*"Thank you for agreeing to listen to me, Your Grace. My name is Fennesz."*

"Ziry iksos nēso naejot rhaenagon ao." she replied, smiling at him friendly.

*"Nice to meet you."*

"I can speak common tongue, if you wish."

She was surprised to hear him use common language. She expected that the conversation would be in high valyrian and that she would have to watch her accent, but she was so pleasantly surprised...

"You speak it very well." she admitted.

"And you speak Valyrian beautifully, my Queen. I didn't expect this from someone who came from across the Narrow Sea." she smiled even wider at Fennesz's words. She was always happy when someone appreciated her valyrian, especially since she had a hard time learning dothraki, mainly because of the pronunciation.

"What business do you have with me?" she asked, remembering that there were about fifty more people waiting to speak to her.

"Before you freed me, I belonged to Master Mighdal. I taught his children languages ​​and history. I have told them many times about the history of your family. Calla is only seven years old, but she admires you very much, she would like to be like you." he told about himself.

She felt happy that a girl took her as a role model. It only meant that new generations could change this world and make it a better place.

"I hope I truly deserve her admiration. But... What do you expect from me? What can I do for you?"

"When you took over the city, the children begged me not to leave their house. But Master Mighdal and I agreed that I had to. So I lost my home. Now I live on the streets."

She didn't realize that someone could have a happy home and she took it away from him... But she couldn't show how much it affected her.

"I prepared outfitted mess halls and barracks for former slaves to provide them with food and shelter." she explained. When conquering the city, she thought that it would be difficult to change the system quickly enough so that people could find work and start earning money for themselves, so she organized these places so that by the time of this change, former slaves would not die of hunger in the streets.

So she didn't understand why this man was living on the streets.

"I don't mean to offend you, Your Grace..." he began, and her throat was already tightening. She knew there was no good news waiting for her. "I went to one of these places, but the young people prey on the old there. They take whatever they want and beat us if we oppose it."

What...? Why? Why do they not respect others who were their companions in misfortune? What did I do wrong?

"I will send the Unsullied to each of these places to keep order. You have my word that it will be safe there." she reacted the only way she could.

Soon she won't have enough Unsullied to patrol the pyramid she lives in if they are needed to keep order in every corner of the city.

"I believe you, Your Grace. But who will I be there? What will be my goal? I was a teacher with my former Master, I could pass on my knowledge. I had the love and respect of his children. I was treated well, they are not bad people."

He was right. And that was the worst for her, she can't provide all the people with what they need. In fact, she should consider each case separately, but this would take years. She had no idea how she could solve the problems faster, what laws she should introduce.

And things weren't any better in Westeros. There may have been no slavery there, but the situation was often just as terrible. If she ever manages to control and bring peace to Slaver's Bay, there will be another huge challenge waiting for her across the sea...

A challenge she feels she's not ready for yet.

"Would you like to go back there?" she asked, already knowing what Fennesz was getting at.

"Yes. I want to ask you to let me sell myself to Master Mighdal."

"Sell yourself?"  she didn't expect such a choice of words... "Not to have any rights? Belong to someone again and be at his beck and call?"

She couldn't understand it. Perhaps if she hadn't suffered so much under Tywin Lannister's 'care', she wouldn't have wanted to change her life at all and wouldn't have seen anything wrong with slavery. After all, circumstances alter cases... And this man was apparently lucky enough to have a good man as his Master.

"I'm begging you, my Queen. The young will find their way in the world you are building for them, but we, the old, will not adapt to the changes. We want to live out the end of our lives in places we know, among people we know. Many who are waiting to be listened to want to ask you the same."

She couldn't turn a deaf ear to his request or to the requests of everyone else with the same problem. After all, she was here to help them, not force them into a life that would be a burden to them. They were free, they decided for themselves.

"Slavery doesn't exist in Meereen anymore, so I can't let you sell yourself to someone, it's against the law." the man's expression visibly softened, but she hadn't finished speaking yet.  "But there is another solution. You can make a contract with your former Master. You will work under certain conditions, it may be as before. But you retain your rights, you will be able to quit your job at any time and go wherever you want. This is what freedom is all about. Come to Grey Worm tomorrow, I'll go with you to Mighdal and you can draw up an agreement."

"Thank you, Your Grace. Thank you, really." she clearly made him see purpose in his life again. He smiled, she even thought he had tears of joy in his eyes. He bowed and left.

Before the next resident of Meereen arrived, ser Barristan spoke to her:

"Masters will take advantage of this. They will have slaves again, but they only won't call them that."

"What can I do?" she turned to him and shrugged. "I have to let them work, I can't feed every former slave in the city for the rest of his days." she sighed. "There should be someone - no, not one person, at least several, who will control that no one breaks what is included in employment contracts."

"A new institution?" asked ser Arthur, standing on her other side.

"Yes, composed of people educated in... We should also have a law defining working conditions." she sighed again, placing her hand on her forehead for a moment and then gently combing her hair - so as not to damage her hairstyle. "Will you bring me tomorrow that man with whom I had such a good time talking about law? Azdahr...? I think that was his name."

"You can form a council, my Queen. There will be a representative from each state, making it easier for you to find out what your city needs." Barristan suggested. She liked this idea.

"We'll deal with it tomorrow, remind me." she replied, smiling at him. At the sound of footsteps at the entrance, she turned her gaze to the man who was holding a bundle in his hand. Her first thought was that the dragons had killed some herd again, so the smile fell from her face, but she motioned for him to come over. "You may approach, my friend."

He stopped on the stairs and looked between her and the others standing next to her with frightened eyes. He said something that reminded her again of high valyrian in pronunciation, but the words were different, so Missandei translated him Visenya's words.

Only when she assured him that he could approach her he did so, stopping at the designated place. He began to speak with tears in his eyes, clearly he had been holding them back for too long.

"I brought you..." Missandei started to translate, but the man stopped and did not finish the sentence. "He came from the sky. He was black. Winged shadow." Drogon... "He came from the sky and..." she wanted to tell her to stop. She already knew it wasn't about a herd of goats... The man knelt on the ground and unfolded the cloth, revealing the charred bones of the child. She took a sharp breath, drawing the attention of both Missandei and her knights. "My girl. My little girl."

Everyone was moved by the scene, but only Visenya felt like she couldn't stop the tears forming in her eyes. Missandei looked down, and so did ser Arthur and ser Barristan, although they kept glancing at Vis and how she was bearing the sight.

This was what she had been afraid of all along, that someone would show her the bones of someone killed by one of her dragons. She tried her best not to cry, just sit as a Queen should, without unnecessary emotions, solve the problem quickly and efficiently, and move on.

But this situation had no solution. She can't bring the child back to life.

She can't move on, she can't just block the sight of the charred bones of an innocent child from her mind.

She slowly stood up from her seat, surprising everyone. The man continued to cry as she approached him. Only when she crouched down next to him and put her hand on his shoulder he looked at her with his face flooded with tears, and that was enough for her to start crying too. She didn't care what everyone in this room thought of her at that moment.

Ser Arthur was right, she has a gentle, soft heart that doesn't allow her to look at people's suffering with indifference.

She wished she could tell this man how sorry she was, even though she knew something like that couldn't be forgiven or forgotten, even if it wasn't entirely her fault. No... It was her fault. She should have been the one to control her dragons, not  anyone else. They are hers, so what they do is her responsibility. This girl lost her life because of her.

'I believe that nothing happens without a reason. I believe in you.' Now he believes in her too? When something like this happened because of her?

She started to say something, but then she remembered that the man wouldn't understand her, so instead she reached out with both of her arms and pulled him to her chest, hugging him and letting him cry into her white dress. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to calm him down, holding him to her chest and rocking him gently.

She doesn't know how long she sat there with him.

Hours later, she still couldn't quite get over it, but at least the tears weren't streaming down her face. She had to take a break to calm down before listening to the other people, but all the while she was only thinking about that child.

"What was her name?" Visenya asked Missandei. She and Gray Worm were with her in her private chambers. She told Missandei to take care of this man, talk to him and tell to give him everything he needed and more, even though she knew it would do nothing to ease his pain.

"Zala." replied her friend.

"How old was she?"

"Three."

"Three..." Vis repeated after her. "And she is gone forever before she could even discover the world." she turned and went down the stairs, slowly heading towards the exit of the chamber. "Iēdrosa daor udir nūmāzma Drōgon se Maelia? Daorys ūndan zirȳ?"

*"Still no news about Drogon and Maelia? Has anyone seen them?"*

"Loktysīs ūndan Drōgon sōvegon toliot se zōbrie clis hāre tubissa alāgo, ñuha dāria. Se syt Maelia, īles ūndegīon tōma tubissa alāgo, lēda Drōgon. Pār daor udr." Grey Worm replied. He watched her as she passed him on her way to the door.

*"Sailors saw Drogon fly over the Black Cliffs three days ago, my Queen. As for Maelia, she was seen five days ago, with Drogon. No news since then."*

"Rhaenagon nyke rȳ se bazādas." she replied dryly, although tears began to form in her eyes again.

*"Meet me in the catacombs."*

She didn't want to do what she had just decided to do, but she had no choice. It will break her heart just as much as the sight of those bones broke it. On the surface, it looked like it was an easy decision for her to go down into the catacombs to lock up Viserion and Rhaegal, whom she knew where were because they always stayed closer to her than Drogon and Maelia. They might not have done anything yet, but they were as unpredictable as the other two, and she wanted to do everything in her power to prevent another tragedy.

Two dead goats were thrown into the catacombs, successfully luring Rhaegal and Viserion.

"Stay here." she said to ser Arthur, seeing that he wanted to say something. She didn't want any advice at this point, in her eyes there was no better way out of the situation.

As the dragons quickly jumped down the stairs, she slowly followed them, unable to hold back the tears in her eyes. The two beasts got their paws on the meat and it was her moment to do what was right, what was necessary.

She must think first of all about her people, not herself.

No matter how much it hurts her.

She crouched on the ground, not caring that she would get her dress dirty, grabbed the first chain and moved it along the ground to Rhaegal's neck. Then she lifted it with considerable difficulty and fastened it. Tears blurred her vision as she took the other shackles and placed them around Viserion's neck. She couldn't sit there any longer, she didn't want to look at her own... Children, in chains. Because of her.

Walking towards the exit, she wiped her tears, but it didn't help, because when she heard that the dragons were losing interest in food and wanted to follow her, but they couldn't... What roars they were making... She couldn't keep up with wiping her tears.

But she didn't turn around, even when she left and Unsullied were closing the entrance with a huge boulder. She was about to head back to her chambers, but she saw Arthur hold out a handkerchief to her so she could wipe her tears.

She accepted it, but didn't say a word.

She suffered in silence.

~

-> Chapter XXII ''What the Seven Kingdoms need'' -> general masterlist -> Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon masterlist

[secretsolarsystem]

❛ it’s pathetic really, how much i hope it’s me and you in the end. ❜ perhaps?

BESTIE...BESTIE!!!!!!!!! PERHAPS YES

at first I had no idea what to do with this bc it's such a killer line??? but after talking with @kyberkenobi (hi girly ily) this 1.8k canon-divergent, Sith!Obi-Wan, Sith!Anakin, mentions of murders, this one actually got really sweet ngl was born <3 I hope you like it!!!

–

What no one says about being a Sith, but is to be expected, one can suppose, is just how competitive one must be. Everyone knows Sith to be cruel, immoral, and perhaps even deranged in their bloodlust and indiscriminate killing. If written into a story, the Sith would be the villains. They are power hungry, they are steeped in Darkness, they are hardly even humans. Or so the unwritten story says.

Even Sith themselves could not deny their ruthlessness – some may even see it as a compliment. It surely is a helpful quality to possess, because while no one says it, one truly must be competitive to survive as a Sith; to be competitive and ruthless is to be alive.

At the top of the Sith hierarchy is Lord Sidious. He is the most powerful Sith currently alive, although some don’t know if he’s truly alive, or if he is, how long he’s been so. Needless to say, he terrifying in his nonchalant, remorseless manner of doling out punishments without warning or explanation. He is terrifying in his Darkness, both in the Force and in the hooded shadow he seems to perpetually live in.

He is terrifying, and every Sith hopes to be his apprentice, his right hand, the dog on his leash.

That is where the competitiveness comes in, the one that drives them to infamous villainy. There was a rule the Sith abided by, the Rule of Two, dictating there must always be two: a master and their apprentice. But the rule had not been enforced in recent years, and people had been Falling more often than in the past, it seemed.

Currently, the total amount of Sith was seven: Lord Sidious, Darth Tyranus, Asajj Ventress, Darth Maul, Savage Opress, Darth Vader, and Obi-Wan Kenobi. At least, those were all the ones Obi-Wan was aware of.

Almost immediately after Sidious announced that the Rule of Two would once again be established and enforced, the numbers started to dwindle. No one doubted for a moment that Sidious would be the master, leaving only one of the other six to be the apprentice. What broke out was a ruthless, competitive bloodbath.

It was hard to keep track at times, but Obi-Wan made sure to. It was vital to know who was still in the game – because of course Sith would see their murdering each other as a game to be won – to know who to prioritize. Additionally, it was important to know who killed who, to know who was worth worrying about.

So far, only Maul had a point on the scoreboard. He’d killed Savage, his own brother, marking him particularly dangerous. It was made clear that no bond would prevent Maul from killing any one of them. Obi-Wan knew Maul was power hungry, but he also knew him to be quite protective of his brother. It was a shock to them all, and a splash of cold water to the face. The game was on, competition was fierce, and no one was safe.

It gave Obi-Wan much to think about, in terms of how to go about winning. He favored sitting by and letting everyone pick themselves off for him, until it came down to him and one other. This would prove Obi-Wan to be not a mere pawn in the game, but one who took it by the reins and left nothing to chance. His wit could also be put on display if he were to make things more interesting and actively manipulate the weaker others into killing his biggest threats.

On the other hand, it might be more advantageous for him to kill more than just the last person standing. The more he killed, the more he could show off his fighting capabilities, his strength, and his grace when engaged in combat.

Either way, though, Obi-Wan knew it would come down to him. There was no way he would lose. If he wasn’t Sidious’ first choice, he’d be his last option.

There was only one obstacle that Obi-Wan was unsure about, and its name was Darth Vader – or rather, Anakin Skywalker.

Anakin was clearly Sidious’ favorite. If prophesies are to be believed, then Anakin was the Chosen One, the one to bring balance to the Force itself. Even if he was not this supposed Chosen One, Anakin was the most powerful Force-user any of them had ever encountered, comparable only to Sidious himself. There was no question as to why Sidious wanted Anakin to be his apprentice; he was raw power incarnate, and to use him in Darkness rather than a balancing agent would make Sidious even more powerful, a feat previously unimaginable.

It was obvious, Sidious’ preference for Anakin, by him personally giving him his new name. No longer Anakin Skywalker, but now Darth Vader. Sidious had done the same for Darth Tyranus and Maul, but Vader quickly took their place. (That made it even more surprising to Obi-Wan when he heard of Savage’s death. Maul resented Vader endlessly for taking his place as Sidious’ favorite. Perhaps he’d been proving his loyalty to Sidious above all other in his killing his brother. Vader, though, was surely next.)

Obi-Wan, Ventress, and Savage had not been given the privilege, seeing as they were not inducted by Sidious himself. Savage, obviously, trained under Maul; Tyranus, Maul, and Vader under Sidious; and Ventress and Obi-Wan under Tyranus.

It made the game just a bit complicated for Obi-Wan when it came to Ventress. As the only other who knew what it was to train under Tyranus, he had a special sort of bond with her. They nearly acted like siblings, bonding over their shared training experiences. They’d been held to impossible standards and put through terrible trials, all without ever earning a proper name. If Obi-Wan was to stay out of the game until the end, he hoped Ventress would be the one to take care of Tyranus; she deserved it, and it would really be for the both of them.

He didn’t want to think about who would take care of her, after. He hoped it wouldn’t be himself, but if it came down to it, he knew what he’d do. And he knew she’d do it, too.

That scenario is where the obstacle, where Vader, where Anakin came in. Because if it came down to the two of them, Obi-Wan didn’t know what he’d do. And he didn’t know what Anakin would do.

Where Obi-Wan and some of the others had fallen into bed together a few times to let off steam or to simply get off, Obi-Wan and Anakin had fallen into bed many times, and often stayed there into the morning. Obi-Wan couldn’t remember how it had started, if he’d been comforting Anakin after a grueling punishment from Sidious or if they’d been bickering and found kissing each other was the best way to shut the other up or if they’d been sparring and landed on the ground with their panting breaths going into each other’s mouths – no, Obi-Wan couldn’t remember which one of those had sealed his fate to Anakin Skywalker.

While there was no rule among the Sith forbidding sex, the manner in which Obi-Wan and Anakin did it would surely be frowned upon. Sidious would surely riot at the idea of Obi-Wan having any hold over Anakin, at the thought of his precious Chosen One choosing Obi-Wan. But, truth be told, Obi-Wan didn’t care – not enough to stop. Vader was an exemplary Sith: cold and hard and mean. But Anakin…Anakin was warm and soft and sweet (when he wanted to be). Obi-Wan could never stop, never stop fucking or wanting or loving Anakin.

And it showed, their attachment to each other, as the game progressed. When Maul tried to kill Anakin as he slept, he didn’t know that Obi-Wan was in the other room, making tea. He did not know and it was his downfall, as Obi-Wan rushed into the room and promptly sliced the Zabrak in half. And when Tyranus had killed Ventress, Anakin had comforted Obi-Wan, a comfort Obi-Wan never knew he could be afforded. And when Tyranus came for Obi-Wan next, Obi-Wan did not fight alone, and when Tyranus had dealt an incapacitating blow to Obi-Wan, it was Anakin who cut the old man’s head off.

And so that was it. That was where the game now stood. Savage, Maul, Ventress, and Tyranus were all dead. That left only Obi-Wan and Anakin. It was Obi-Wan’s nightmare, and it was the only scenario he could tolerate.

“It’s pathetic really,” Obi-Wan had confessed one night into Anakin’s hair, for it was the safest place in the world in that moment, “how much I hope it’s me and you in the end.”

“Pathetic?” Anakin had mumbled, eyes still shut as he rested his head on Obi-Wan’s bare chest.

“For a Sith, for this game, yes,” Obi-Wan answered. “It is pathetic for me to feel rage at the idea of anyone else laying a hand on you, and it is pathetic for me to be unwilling to die at the hands of anyone other than you.”

It was pathetic, too, the way they’d cried as they lost themselves in each other again that night.

Now, it was the two of them in the end. It was the two of them standing before Sidious, who wore an immensely pleased grin. Finally, Obi-Wan assumed, he will have Vader as his. It was all Sidious ever wanted – Obi-Wan knew the feeling.

“Vader,” Sidious said, his voice gravelly and hiding his excitement for what was to come, “Kenobi. It seems it has come down to the two of you.”

“Yes, Master,” they answered in unison.

“I must admit, I am eager to see who will win. It would do you well to remember that if it is you, then you and you alone will have access to my teachings. That, of course, will give you access to unlimited power, and your power will continue to grow as we establish new order in the galaxy,” Sidious promised.

They held their breaths before answering, “Yes, Master.”

“As you fight,” Sidious went on, “think of whose side you want to be at, when this is over. Let that drive, that hunger fuel you. It will be your opponent’s downfall, should you want it more.”

At this, Anakin and Obi-Wan glance at each other, and their eyes said it all.

Whose side do you want to be at, when this is over?

I hope it’s me and you in the end.

With a subtle nod to each other, so subtle not even the great Lord Sidious noticed, they turned towards their master again, and ignited their blades.

There would be two, as the rule mandated. Though it would not be a master and an apprentice – it would be two equals, side by side. There was nothing, Obi-Wan could now admit, pathetic about it.

from this prompt list

prompted fic collection on ao3

[spencer-is-dead]

Peices of media that I was obsessed with for a long amount of time: a comprehensive list

Most of these were MAJOR hyperfixations, so I was stuck on them for months, sometimes even years. I mostly just wanted to make a list for the sake of research. Like, fandom trends and stuff like that.

My little Pony 2017-2018

Ooh boy I was a huge pony fan. I watched the show at least six or seven consecutive times, watched the movie in theaters, wrote my first fanfiction (though its unpublished and will always remain so), as well as just being a major annoyance to my parents. I didn’t own many toys, but i did own rocks that kind of looked like them, so I played with those. I remember the Twilight Sparkle rock went missing for a few days, and I made missing posters for it and everything.

The Dreamworks Trolls movie 2016-2017

Yes. I am being serious. I had a Trolls movie blanket, poster, and everything. I was seriously crazy about this movie. Like I remember buying the novelized version from like Micheals or something.

Harry Potter 2018-2021

I am extremely ashamed of this phase. Mostly because the author turned out to be a big stinky poo poo head. I literally knitted scarves and hats in house colors for my family (they’re actually quite comfy I intend to keep them but fuck you JKR) So long story short I want to burn this part of my history and never look back, while my family urges me to stare at the cringiest time in my life and say that I one day will return to it. And I want to say “No, Mother, I wish not to give more money to the TERF lady” but I doubt she’d get it.

Vocaloid 2022-

It took me a while to become a Vocaloid fan. It started with this cover of Chug Jug with you. I only tipped over the edge when I discovered Synth V’s Eleanor Forte through, you’ll never guess it, a Minecraft Revenge cover, and i swore to only listen to English songs. I then discovered Rishie-P’s cover of 4BLODD, which led me down the hole of English Vocaloid songs. Eventually I found myself listening to the Japanese ones. Now I’m a fully fledged miku fan who has a shrine to her above my bed.

SPY x FAMILY 2022-

10 PM on an October night, I just said “Fuck it” and watched Spy x family. It was honestly for the better. I was always used to asking for approval, making people tell me if I’m allowed to like something. As most of my followers know, this was how I really made it online. I wrote a 48k word Spy x family fic and all of a sudden I’m known for being the crazy one in the fandom.

Splatoon 2022-

This game, this FUCKIGN game. It gets me man, they gay people get me. My friend first introduced this game to me in July, and I’ve been hooked playing it ever since. I am an avid Pearlina Shipper, and well as an Agent 24 (3x8) enthusiast. I want more of these gay cephalopods on my dash. NOW!

Yeah, that’s pretty much it. It’s funny how my media consumption has changed over the years lmao.