#around those were very real problems that i personally witnessed)

[dredgen-nope]

.

[mayapapaya33]

I'm rewatching Exu: Calamity and I think they made a mistake with the name. The real title should be Exu: Actually, Vasselheim has good reasons for how it operates, even if they're dicks about it sometimes. Maybe it was too long, so they went with the snappier CALAMITY! Instead lol.

The end of the Calamity was only 840 something years ago. With Elves and dragons running around, some of them are definitely old enough where, if they didn't live during the Age of Arcanum themselves, their parents or grandparents would have and they would have been told a thousand stories of the fuck heads in flying cities who destroyed the world and were super annoying and dangerous long before they did that. Many more would be born during the latter part of the Calamity or raised by people who survived the Calamity who passes on those stories. Depending on the race we are talking anywhere from direct witnesses (Like the Bright Queen and Ludinus) to like 2-5 generations removed. Even humans with our short lifespans, it's really not THAT long, especially if you've got a bunch of old ass elves around teaching history class from a first person pov for like 500 years lol.

Intellectually people know that Critical Role, the world of Exandria is a post apocalypse story. Exandria is a scarred landscape that is just beginning to bounce back from the brink. But because it is recovering, it's easy to forget sometimes that it IS POST APOCALYPTIC. So people looking at Vasselheim in the modern day are like, 'bro, you really need to chill, everything's fine.' And Vasselheim is like... 'Chill? I do not understand the meaning of this word. And everything is fine... for now. We will be a bastion of civilization when the end times come once more. Fare thee well traveler.'

Then everyone rolls their eyes and moves on with their day. But if you really think about Vasselheim's isolationism and strength and distain for arcane magic in historical context, you can't really blame them. Are they over the top about their dislike of arcane magic? Sure. Is it quite possibly the most understandable over reaction in the history of over reactions? Also yes! They haven't made it illegal, they are just going to keep an eye on you, so you don't pull a Vespin Chloras and doom the planet to another few centuries of choked skies and sundered landscapes, that's all. Vespin was IN Vasselheim! Of COURSE they have strong feelings about it. The (Almost) End of the World began in Vasselheim due to arcane magic. If they had been stricter, maybe it wouldn't have happened at all!

And it really does paint their actions in Campaign 1 in a different light as well. Their isolationism can come across as shortsighted and selfish, until you view it from their point of view. Which is that they are constantly under threat, they know for a fact that Asmodeus wants their city destroyed, they are a bastion for the Prime Deities in a world filled with many heathens (lol that's where the dickishness comes in) and the Betrayer Gods would take any sign of weakness in their defenses and attack with glee. Hearing it in C1 it sounds like an excuse not to help against the Chroma Conclave, but it is literally just the truth from what I can tell. In BOTH Calamity and Downfall they have mentioned destroying Vasselheim being on the Betrayer God's to do list lol. If I was on a Betrayer God's to do list specifically, by name, I too would be somewhat paranoid and would not really want to disarm any portion of the city to go do something else. No matter how important the something else might be.

Vasselheim was basically like; Look, I'm very sorry to hear about your Dragon problem, that sucks, truly, but if we go out all willy nilly and leave this city undefended, it'll be fucked when we get back. When you have a real plan, come back and get us and we'll join you for the big fight. Until then, it's up to you, here you can have Kima as well, she's been desperate to get out of here anyway, and here's some supplies. We have larger concerns than one continent being attacked by four ancient Dragons. We are the seed bank for civilization for when shit inevitably hits the fan. We are the doomsday bunker for the Apocalypse, four Ancient Dragons are terrible, but they are not the Apocalypse. And they are right. Looking at it all in context, The Chroma Conclave are small potatoes. Horrific, monstrous, life destroying, but compared to the threat Vasselheim is preparing for, nothing.

They are the doomsday preppers of Exandria, except the threat is real and they are only letting their collective trauma and ptsd inform their decisions a little bit. They are actually fairly rational all things considered. This city withstood the entire Calamity. The stewards of the city must feel an enormous weight and responsibility to keep it safe going into the future. Imagine the pressure. Are you going to be the one to fuck it all up, after thousands of years? Sounds like a nightmare to me. The level of devotion and conviction required to keep something like that going is incredible.

[luvermore]

I haven't said much about S4 but I will say, I do not like the direction they took all the characters in. Especially both Ben's.

I think my least favorite part about how they go about Ben (Brellie and Sparrow) is that how they have the siblings dealing with them makes zero sense. Ben was supposedly the beginning of the end of the UA. Even though they didn’t even remember how he died. His death was such an emotional impact that their family imploded. So why does it seem like they glossed over A. Ben being around 17 years after his death and just hanging with Klaus. B. Literally saw adult him in S1 but had all of a “oh wow” reaction. Then in S2 seemed to not care when Klaus said (one of my fave scenes tbh), “Ghost can’t time travel”. I get he’s been dead forever but it just seems like there should have been some reaction.

My next issue is, when Sparrow Ben comes, they take him around like he’s their Ben. Which, in my opinion is why he could never feel connected to them. There was never a point where the Brellies accepted him for the Ben he is now. Granted there were scenes with Viktor and Allison trying to help him and Luther keeping up with him but that’s my point too. Viktor wanted to help Ben so badly because he saved him, but, he didn’t. At least not that Ben. I think they’d still try to help any of the Sparrows if they still existed and it was them inside but, Viktor’s reasoning for trying to save him, and Allison’s too was, “He’s our brother”. But he isn’t. He’s not their brother and if I was supposed to as the viewer, assume that a part of the reason they were gripping onto him is because they lost their Ben, then I would have liked to see that in the show.

I know that the Brellies are very accepting people and tend to accept anyone into their fold as we have seen with Lila and Sloane. But the thing is those two people did not grow up with them. They did not witness the death of someone they considered siblings (meaning the Brellies didn’t grow up with Lila or Sloane and watch them die). They don’t seem to even have a real reaction to the fact that when they go back to their original timeline that basically kind of erased their Ben in totality. They all parted ways when the New World was created and Ben left to his own devices and ended up in prison. So I am not going to assume that in between the years of season three and season four they were just keeping up with him.

I just feel like for a show that started it first season catapulting us into the personal issues of the siblings. It didn’t do a good job going through the motions of them in later season. In short, I feel like a show that clung to the complicated and dysfunctional family theme kind of crashed and burned in seasons three and four. It became less about the siblings working through their problems and dynamics and more about going back to a plot that never really made that much sense. There were aspects of season four that could have made for a great conversation and most of them were deleted scenes, which is beyond me.

[starlightrosa]

LEE JAX lers pomni and rags pleaseee ur fics are amazing

Jax's Downfall

Summary: Jax has played one too many mean pranks, and Pomni wants revenge.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Rather intense tickles, Jax is an asshole but he gets his just desserts, swearing (haha censored though)

A/N: Jay! Thank you for the wait! And I'm happy to hear that you like my work! I'm sorry you have had to wait so long, but I do hope this one is good. Enjoy!

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

Jax snickered to himself as he hid in the corner of his room. It was rather early in the Digital Circus today. While everyone was still asleep, Jax had found the key to Pomni’s room. Pomni was relatively new to the circus still, having been only there for a couple days. What kind of person would Jax be if he didn’t give the new girl a nice housewarming present, right?

Except the housewarming present may or may not have been a sack full of cockroaches. And maybe Jax knew that Pomni had a fear of cockroaches. Apparently the little jester hated the way they moved.

Jax had also been extra kind and put cleverly made fake cockroaches around as well, so the jester would have a hard time telling which roaches were real, and which were not. Jax giggled to himself as he heard the noises of Pomni stirring awake. He didn’t even need to check if his prank had gone to plan, as he heard a hair-raising shriek from behind the door.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!! THERE’S COCKROACHES EVERYWHERE! NO, GET AWAY! EW!”

Jax slammed his hand over his mouth and he snickered as Ragatha raced into Pomni’s room and got her out. Caine popped into view, rubbing his eyes.

“Pomni, its most early…” Caine complained, but then he saw all the cockroaches and both sets of teeth that also made up his head comically fell open. “Oh goodness.”

Ragatha hurried Pomni out of the roach-filled room and consoled her. “Hey, hey. Pomni, calm down. I don’t know how they got in there. Don’t worry, we’ll get rid of them all.”

“Hey. Bugs matter just as much, you know.” Jax cut in with a drastic eye-roll. Ragatha sent Jax a look. Oh, if looks could kill, Jax would be a pile of bones by now. Her eyes were hateful, as she comforted Pomni.

“Jax, what the (HONK!) is wrong with you? Why would you do that to Pomni?!” Ragatha accused. Jax scoffed and held his hands up.

“Don’t be blaming me, Ragdoll. I didn’t do anything.”

Caine went closer to that door. “Well, I’ll put this right in a jiffy.” the ringleader responded. One simple click of his fingers and these digital bugs, both fake and real, disappeared at one simple snap, making their little chirping noises even as they dissolved into pixels.

“Thank you, Caine.” Pomni murmured, even as she pressed closer to Ragatha, the jester refusing to look at her room even as the last roach disappeared. She had woken up to find one of those on her bed. Granted, it was a fake one. But then she looked up and saw real, moving ones, which had caused her initial scream.

“No problem, Pomni. Well, I’m off to touch some grass.” Caine excused, the ringleader vanishing with a pop. Jax scoffed and walked by Ragatha, who still sent the lilac bunny a very angry look indeed. He bent down to Pomni’s level, whispering into her ear.

“You know, Pomni… fun fact. Female roaches can lay eggs after like sixty days.” Jax teased, loving Pomni’s whimper of fear as he left. God, he loved messing with her.

Pomni growled once Jax had left. “Ugh… I hate him so much.”

“So do I, Pomni. I don’t know why he’s the way that he is.” Ragatha said, doing her best to sympathise with the upset jester. Jax was unfortunately like this. Just the other week, he had done a similar prank to Ragatha, only with centipedes, which happened to be Ragatha’s fear. Seems she and Pomni were on quite a similar wavelength in regards to their fears.

“I want to get him back.” Pomni hissed, at her wits end with this stupid rabbit.

Ragatha wasn’t sure. Turning the other cheek sounded like a better option, but Jax was the kind of person to never get bored, and his pranks tended to become much more mean if he got a reaction he didn’t want, as it was blatantly obvious that because of life in the circus, Jax either had little or no regard of consequence coming to pay its dues to him.

“I want to do that as well. But we don’t even know how to get him back.” Ragatha reasoned. But Pomni was dead set on paying the rabbit back, and then some.

“Then we ask Caine. Let’s go.” Pomni said, leaving no room for excuses as the two girls ran off to go find the ringleader.

Caine was outside the tent with Bubble. He was doing what he said, at least. His mismatched eyes were on the lush, digitally-created green grass, and his gloved hand was stroking up and down the green blades, them swaying softly in the wind.

“Caine.”

The ringleader looked up to see Pomni. She looked most irritable, and her arms were crossed.

“Pomni, dear. What’s wrong?” Caine asked. Pomni sighed, one hand twirling at the stray strands of hair under her hat.

“Jax has been playing such horrible pranks. I want to get him back.” Pomni stated, looking at the ringleader, even as he played with the blades of grass idly as he listened to Pomni air out her singular grievance against Jax. Oddly refreshing, considering that the other members must have had a list of grievances against Jax that was about three miles long by now.

“Hmm. Well, I suppose there is one way that you could pay Jax his dues. I found out some rather valuable information about Jax, and he doesn’t know that I know. Care for me to spill the tea, as it were? Though I don’t really have tea. Just a teacup.” Caine rambled, a flowery teacup popping into his hands. Caine pretended to drink tea from it to sell the illusion.

Pomni grinned as she nodded her head. “Spill, Caine. Spill every drop of information.”

Caine chuckled. “Well, Jax is actually rather ticklish. More than he wishes to admit. If you give him a good tickle, he should back off for a little.”

Oh, Caine had just helped Pomni strike a gold mine head-on. She smiled, an evil glint in her eye. “Oh, Caine. I don’t think you know how happy I am right now. Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome, my dear. Oh, and Jax can’t stand nibbles on his stomach.” Caine added.

Pomni rubbed her hands together, the way a cartoonish villain would. She chuckled lowly as she began to plot with Ragatha.

“We have our plan. Ragatha, you’re gonna help me.” Pomni said.

“Sure. Jax has been more annoying than usual. I’d like to see him laid out and screaming like a baby while we tickle him to tears.” Ragatha stated, winking her real eye as her button eye focused upon Pomni, content to listen to the jester explain her plan.

Pomni chuckled a little mischievously, as she and Ragatha assumed their places. They waited in Jax’s room, because Jax had so foolishly left his door unlocked while he went to go wreak havoc on Gangle again.

Gangle’s muffled cries were cut short at the snarky laughter of Jax slowly growing louder as the rabbit walked back to his room and closed his door. Perfect. Ragatha and Pomni took their chance and they both jumped on Jax.

Jax shrieked like a little girl as he was taken to the floor. Ragatha gathered Jax’s wrists and yanked them sharply above his head as Pomni straddled his waist, and she smirked down at him.

“What the (HONK)?! Pomni, get off! You little-!” Jax yelled, trying to struggle, but then Pomni traced Jax’s underarms. Jax clamped his mouth shut faster than he ever had, trying to swallow down the laughter steadily rising in his chest.

“A little birdie told me you were ticklish, Jaxie-Paxie.” Pomni cooed, the jester never losing that mischievous look.

“Jaxie-Paxie? Oh, cohohoHOHOHOME OHOHOHON! P-POHOHOHOHOMNI!!”” Jax deadpanned, but then his sarcastic remark was cut off by a loud shriek and laughter as Pomni stuck her hands in Jax’s armpits and started off tickling.

“Yes, Jax?” Pomni asked, in a sickly sweet tone that made Jax squirm. But Jax couldn’t even say anything, overwhelmed by laughter as he couldn’t even wriggle, Ragatha holding him down easily like he weighed nothing.

“POHOHOMNI, STOHOHOHOP!!” Jax wailed, the rabbit’s legs kicking as he tried to find purchase to escape the jester and her tickles. But there was nowhere to go, and not like Ragatha would let him get very far.

“Stop? Aw, but I barely started!” Pomni responded, moving her hands slower than a snail’s pace to Jax’s stomach, pulling his shirt up.

“WAHAHAHAIT, WAHAHAIT! NOT THERE, POHOHOMNI!” Jax begged. He hated how ticklish he was sometimes, especially when other people found out about it. Well, hate may have been quite a strong word. Like hell he would tell anyone how he really felt about getting tickled, though.

“Not here? But why, Jax?” Pomni asked.

“B-Becahahause no!” Jax lamely responded through his laughter.

But Pomni didn’t listen and vibrated her fingers into Jax’s stomach. Jax had no chance at resisting, as that was his number one tickle spot. He fell into loud, wheezing cackles near-instantly.

“NOOOOOOHOHOHOHO!!! ST-STOHOHOHOP IHIHIHIT! THAHAHAT TIHIHIHICKLES, POHOHOMNI!”

“Aww, is the wittle wabbit all ticklish on his tummy-wums? Ohh, poor baby.” Pomni teased, not letting up on her tickles one bit. She grinned, letting Jax see her teeth. “Such delicious giggles, little bunny-bun. I’m hungry for laughter. And I think I could go for a snack~”

Pomni dipped her head down and began to softly scrape her teeth against the ticklish skin. Jax screamed and thrashed at the feeling, loud and boisterous laughter leaving him.

“Just give it up, Jax. Let me hear them giggles.” Pomni encouraged, before going right back to nibbling Jax’s belly, and Ragatha laughed along with Jax. This was the best entertainment Jax was involved in, by far.

Jax screamed and wailed like a baby as his legs kicked out. Pomni was so mean.

“Have you learned your lesson yet?” Ragatha asked. Jax cried out as Pomni was now kneading Jax’s stomach with her fingers.

“NOHOHOHOHO!!” Jax screamed, but Ragatha tutted from above him.

“You haven’t? Oh, dear. Well, you need another lesson. Pomni, give him some good raspberries.” Ragatha instructed. Jax swore he saw God for a minute.

“NOHOHOHO! DOHOHOHON’T YOU (HONK)ING DARE!” Jax yelled. Once again, Pomni didn’t listen as she ducked her head down and her lips met Jax’s stomach as she inhaled and blew a raspberry right over his bellybutton. Jax shrieked at such a high pitch, that if the circus tent had windows, Ragatha was pretty sure that Jax would have shattered the glass.

And Pomni didn’t stop there. She blew smaller raspberries and moved her ticklish little raspberries all over Jax’s tummy. By the time she had enough, tears were flowing down Jax’s face as Ragatha finally released his hands. The girls chuckled as they high fived each other. Jax held his stomach with one hand as he pressed the other against his mouth to muffle his remaining giggles.

“Don’t you dare prank me like that again.” Pomni said, as she and Ragatha left him to his own devices. Jax watched them go as he flopped back on his bed. Jax made a note in his head even as his exhaustion from such intense tickles took him to a nice nap.

Way more roaches in Pomni’s room next time.

[old-habitz-die-hard]

We need to talk about the EMH fandom

tldr; long rant on how the emh fandom has a lot of not-so great people in it. Also overlaps with the tribetwelve fandom hence the tags

Recently, being in this fandom, I’ve been seeing a massive influx of discourse over nazis and nazi art. Artists have been putting hate symbols in their HABIT art and EMH art in general. specifically the drawing of one specific artist.

However, I’d like to remind many that this has been going on for a while with many different people in the fandom. So many people in the EMH fandom have admitted to being neo-nazis, and have obsessed over the part of Tribetwelve where HABIT admits he worked with them (which, by the way, was pretty much retconned.) Many say they’ve seen fans of it who have Nazi symbols on their profile, and I’ll admit I’ve seen it as well. Many who do this also do not take it seriously, acting like the Nazis and their symbolism are just some funny cute thing that they can identify with or spread around. In relation to that, users have gotten harassed off servers for even having HABIT or Evan pfps, one stating they were repeatedly called a nazi and people lying and saying their pfp was art by Fvcksnuff, a problematic artist in the fandom. The user was eventually banned after being ridiculed, just for their profile picture being a character. The funny thing is, it wasn’t even HABIT as their profile, it was art of Evan.

Another thing is the romanticism of necrophilia, from specific people headcanoning HABIT as a necrophile and people in the fandom saying they’ve been getting anons asking what they think of the headcanon. The fandom has had a very long history of paraphilia romanticism (necrophilia and zoophilia, mainly), such as the disrespect towards the boundaries of the literal creators and actors, one of them who has specifically stated they DO NOT want rape fanfics of them on ao3. Many people fandom ignore these boundaries, by the way.

Lastly, in relation to that, there’s the sexualization of the actors, which they’ve admitted makes them very uncomfortable, specifically Evan. Please stop sexualizing HABIT or Evan. They may be characters, but a real person plays said characters. Many have acknowledged this and ignored it completely, especially people on Pinterest or tiktok. One of my mutuals has been one to witness and experience this, getting increasingly sexual and creepy comments on his HABIT pins. He’s told people to stop, but people didn’t listen and continued to make him uncomfortable. He admitted that it got so bad he started turning off all comments on his posts since he didn’t want to see those comments anymore. this has also happened on tiktok, where if you go into the comments of any video about habit, they will be overly sexual and explicit, even if the topic of the video isnt inherently sexual.

It’s not just a vocal minority. This fandom has a LOT of awful people just hiding around in it.

The fandom recently has been a dumpster fire of discourse upon discourse, and it’s disheartening to see. Harassment, threats, and general discord. II’d like to say that instead of arguing and arguing, we drive the people who do this out of the fandom. If you want a better community in this fanbase, you need to do something to MAKE it better.

If you have anything other problem about this fandom you think I should research and add to the post, please share.

[golbrocklovely]

outsiders // colin and penelope

A/N: i know this is unlike anything i've posted before on here. i'll be honest, idk how else to explain this other than i direly need to see luke newton play a vampire, so this is about as good as it's gonna get until then. this is also very vaguely based off of a tweet that said this picture of polin makes them look like a cunty vampire couple and you know what??? they ain't wrong about that lol i used direct lines from the show, particularly in the drinking scene with the boys and the carriage love confession (which will be in part two). there are also some quotes and line sprinkled throughout that are similar to those in the show/book. but most of the dialogue is not from the show/book directly. also this is the first time i've ever written a fanfic using characters rather than real ppl… well minus a spn fanfic i never finished. so, please be kind since it's all fiction anyway. hope you enjoy and lmk what you think :)

prompt: Colin is trying to deal with the fact that he is not only in love with his best friend, but that he is incredibly lost as to who he is as a person. It also doesn't help that he's a monster; a vampire. Pen just wants her freedom, her ability to be Whistledown without anymore people finding out. And in her mind, Debling is the solution to her problem. But one fateful night brings Penelope and Colin together in ways they never imagined.

trigger warning: jealous!colin, protective!colin, AU!vampire, the entire bridgerton family are vampire, colin's friends are dicks lol, formal english (but that's a given), vampire powers, manipulation, ANGSTY AS HELL, idiots to lovers (not until part two), somewhat of a cliff hanger but not really since the next part will be out soon, mentions of blood/blood drinking

word count: 3054

~~~~~~~~~~~

Colin knew deep within himself that going out with Fife and the rest of his so-called friends was a mistake. Mostly because his mind was preoccupied tonight, many thoughts swirling around him; all of which pertained to a certain red head he had known since childhood. The mistake was thinking that he could relax while being around these exhausting men and their childish ways.

However he really did need some revelry after what he witnessed during the day.

When he walked into the library party and caught Pen with Debling, smiling and laughing at whatever he was saying, his blood boiled. A permanent frown etched into his face and had stayed there the entirety of the day.

"Say, what ails you, Bridgerton? Are you not enjoying your night?"

Colin turned to Stanton, blinking slowly. He took a swig of his drink, shaking his head. "I am well. Please continue with your story."

Stanton smirked, turning back to the table, "On my Grand Tour, I encountered this Greek girl in the Balkans. My bear leader..."

Colin zoned out again, unable to truly listen much longer to the men's stories of different conquests they had over the summer. His mind was still reeling, his thoughts ever consumed by the image of Penelope. Of their shared kiss. Of his constant reoccurring dreams of her and him. 

"She sounds like the young woman who made my time in the French Quarter worth the length of the voyage. Much to offer upstairs, and I do not mean her mind." Lord Wilding motioned with his hands, causing all three men to burst into laughter. Colin sighed, staring at the ground for a moment.

Fife looked up at Colin, "What about you, Bridgerton? You were gone for quite a while. I am sure the girls of summer made your trip quite... fulfilling?"

The gentlemen chortled, and Colin could feel them all eyeing him, waiting for an answer. "I did tell you my story of the contessa, did I not?"

"Yes, but you did not give details." Stanton whined.

Colin half-heartedly smiled, "Well, a gentleman must keep some things to himself."

Wilding pffted, "Oh, come now. I do not see a gentleman amongst us."

"I concur with you there." Colin shook a finger at them. The gentlemen gave him a quizzical look, freezing him for a moment. "Oh, forgive me… But it is tiring, is it not? The necessity imposed on us to remain cavalier about the one thing in life that holds genuine meaning. Do you not find it lonely?"

Colin gazed upon the men, hoping to see agreeing eyes; but instead the table chuckled at his expense. He sat back in his chair, defeated.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain Featherington girl, now would it?" Fife teased, his glazed eyes staring at Colin's face.

"You know, Bridgerton? Congratulations are in order. I heard that apparently Debling plans to propose to her." Stanton raised his glass, "The marriage mart whisperer actually made a match. Cheers."

"May God have mercy on that poor man's soul." Wilding whispered, finishing his drink.

Colin narrowed his eyes, "I beg your pardon?"

"I know you have a fondness for the girl, but I cannot fathom what type of wife she would be. I would never marry a Featherington, but especially Penelope." Wilding remarked, almost disgusted.

"Maybe that's why Debling plans to travel for years." Fife quipped.

"Well, like your lady in the French Quarter, she at least has a lot to offer upstairs." Stanton snickered.

Colin leapt to his feet, his chair slamming to the floor. His hands were clenched tightly at his sides as his anger raged through him. His red eyes shot up, glaring deeply into the gentlemen's souls, captivating them instantly.

"You will never speak about Penelope or the Featheringtons ever again. And if ever asked about them, you will say nothing but the kindest of words." Colin grunted, his gaze shifting from man to man, "If I ever hear you speak badly about her or her family again, I will tear your throat out with my teeth. Your trivial existence will be ended, and the ladies of the Ton will be better for it... Know this as true, but forget I said this."

The gentlemen blinked rapidly, clearing their throats and looking at each other confused. Fife glanced behind Colin, "What happened to your chair?"

Colin smoothed out his vest, calming himself, "Oh, it must have fallen over when I stood up. Goodbye gentlemen, I am growing rather tired of this night."

~~~

Colin had the privilege of being born a vampire; and with that privilege came the ability to manipulate those around him. However, there were only two types of people he couldn't manipulate: other vampires - which really only applied to his family since he knew of no others - and those he was in love with. That applied to all the Bridgerton siblings. It was their own little family quirk, as they so lovingly called it. In a way, it kept everyone in check. Because they knew out of everyone in the Ton, the people they loved couldn't fall victim to their ability.

But luckily for everyone in the Ton, the Bridgertons were a good family. Violet had taught her children to seldom use their ability, and the children all followed suit. Hyacinth and Gregory did occasionally use it on the maids in the house, so that he could get extra sweets or she, the latest issue of Whistledown before bed; but for the most part all of the Bridgerton siblings fell in line with Violet's beliefs. 

While most of the Bridgertons enjoyed being vampires, Colin did not. Maybe it was because he was battling with himself over who he truly was. All this did was make him feel even more like an outsider. He wanted to be normal, to be known and loved for who he is, but how could he? He was a monster.

And now this monster, deeply annoyed by the past couple weeks of events, was on the search for blood.

Colin did not enjoy hunting. In the day, when he couldn't hunt, it was easier to forget what he was. But at night, his cardinal urges always came to the surface. 

Hunting on the poorer side of London wasn't challenging. There was always someone out and about. And Colin only needed a little bit of blood. None of them ever killed; the rule was only take what you need and leave no trace. And they were all excellent at that.

The worst that could happen was being caught by authorities. Or even worse, somehow ending up in Lady Whistledown.

Colin lurked around a corner, waiting impatiently for a passerby. He glanced at the printer shop, the light inside telling him someone was there. He needed to move further away, in case those inside would hear his victim if they were to scream out suddenly.

He casually walked down the cobblestone street, his sense of smell picking up someone near. It was a woman; that he was sure of.

He knew he should have just drank from the prostitutes, the ones he couldn't even bring himself to sleep with tonight. But he didn't like the idea of drinking from them. They oddly had shown him kindness, something he couldn't even acquire from his friends.

A woman rounded the corner. She was young, and her dark black hair was slightly unkempt. Colin rushed over to her, their eyes meeting instantly. The only sound she was able to make was a small gasp.

"Don't be scared, Miss . This will be over quickly. I'm just so...." he swallowed hard, "hungry."

Colin cupped the woman's face, turning her head so her neck was more on display. His fangs grew, his mouth watering at the thought of blood. Her pulse had quicken when he rushed her, her blood now calling his name. He sunk his teeth in, moaning as the liquid poured into his mouth. He closed his eyes, his thoughts shifting slowly back to familiar ones...

Penelope. 

He hated admitting it, but he had wanted to drink from Pen. His dreams not only consisted of touching her in the most inappropriate ways or confessing that their kiss was all he thought about; it was how he longed to bite her neck, taste her salty skin and rich blood. He knew she would be heavenly, but he never allowed himself to ponder on it too long. These were fantasies after all. She would never, ever find out what he was. And he would not damn her to a life like this.

He groaned against the woman's neck, lapping up spilt blood. Penelope was haunting him, even in real life. How was it that he could smell her, even right now? Even with his mouth on a different woman's neck, drinking her life essence, was he able to feel Pen's presence? It's like he could hear her say his name.

Colin glanced up, the printer shop illuminating the archway leading onto the street. A short person stood frozen, watching him. 

He froze too, his eyes focusing on the figure. The woman in his arms slurred incoherently. His eyes connected with her for a split second, telling her to forget what occurred and to go home. He pushed her off down a separate street, his eyes remaining on the silhouette.

He took a whiff of the air, his eyes widening.

The person ran the opposite way, racing back towards a carriage nearby. Colin made it there long before they could, grabbing them by the shoulders and pushing them up against the wall. His hand covered their mouth instantly, staring deep into the blue eyes he was captivated by since childhood.

"Penelope?"

~~~

Penelope had known the Bridgertons were vampires for years. While she might have met Colin first, Eloise had been her closest friend; mostly because it took Pen a while to really strike up the courage to actually talk to Colin. But when Eloise and her were young, outside and playing in her mother's garden, El casually told her what she was. At first, Pen didn't believe her. Who would believe such a thing without proof? El suddenly waltzed up to a butler nearby and told him to start doing a dance for her, and he did. The girls laughed at the sight, and from that moment on, Pen knew.

She never asked questions, but she was curious as to what vampires were really like. El wouldn't confirm anything to her, understandably wanting to keep some things private. And once Lady Whistledown rose to power in the Ton, El was even more hush about vampirism. Pen could tell she was nervous about her family's secret getting out there. But Pen assured her that Whistledown would never write on such a thing, otherwise she would become the laughingstock of Mayfair.

And now with El completely ignoring her because of Whistledown, she hoped that El understood that statement still rang true. While she would write about what everyone was talking about, no one but her knew their real secret. She would never share it, even if her and Eloise were no longer close.

The carriage came to a stop, the footman opening her door swiftly. She stepped out, the newest addition of Whistledown in her hand. She smirked as she read it over, noting how many in the Ton were speaking on her and Debling's possible engagement. While Pen did not enjoy being the center of attention, she did enjoy knowing that the sniveling mamas of the Ton were wrong about her.

Not only was Penelope courted, she was going to get married. That is, assuming she accepted Debling's proposal. Or that he actually planned to ask her mother tomorrow.

A life with Debling seemed... fine, to her. And if that's all she could get, she would take it. She wanted a love filled marriage, that was true; but maybe time would change that. It's possible that Debling one day might love her. Or that she may grow to fully accept what she had.

Part of her hated admitting it, but her feelings for Colin were still there too. But she accepted that reality as a fantasy and nothing more. Somehow, vampires were real, but Colin reciprocating her feelings wasn't. 

God had a very wicked sense of humor.

She walked down the street, turning the corner to the printer shop. When she raised her hand to knock, something caught her eye. She gazed down the street, two figures stood out in the open. It appeared to be a man and a woman. She squinted her eyes, watching them. The man cupped the woman's jaw, burying his face into her neck. Pen blushed at the notion. She had thoughts similar to that of her and Colin. Dreams, even. But to see two people doing something like that, so out in the open, was very scandalous to her. She wanted to look away, but curiosity got the better of her.

The couple swayed into the light unintentionally, and Pen's eyes widened.

The man's mouth was latched onto the woman's neck, and she was limp in his arms. It almost appeared like he was biting her. As she took in the man, she noted his dark brown coat. His tall stature and quaffed hair were familiar to her. It almost looked like...

"Colin?" She whispered.

The man looked up, locking eyes with Pen. She gasped, seeing his face for the first time. Dear Lord in Heaven, it was Colin. His mouth was stained red from blood and his fangs were prominent, even from such a distance away.

Her heart raced, and she knew she needed to get out of there, now.

She spun on her heel, running back to the carriage. Before she was able to get remotely close, her body was pushed up against the wall, her mouth covered.

"Penelope?" Colin hissed, his red eyes almost glowing in the dark.

She studied his face, taking in the features she had yet to see of him. His eyes were the most surprising, but his fangs were shocking up close.

"I am going to remove my hand. Please don't scream." He moved his hand slowly, her face feeling hot from his skin touching hers. "What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same question, Colin." Pen argued.

"It is none of your concern, Pen. Whatever you saw..." Colin fought to speak, "was not what it looks like."

Pen suddenly became aware of the Whistledown papers in her hand, "Well, if that's the case, then I should be heading back home."

"You didn't answer my question. Why are you-" He began.

She cut him off, trying to sidestep him. "Colin, I need to-"

"What is that in your hand?" He questioned, pointing down.

Her blood ran cold. "W-What?"

Colin grabbed the papers from Pen's hands before she could stop him, her heart dropping instantly.

He gazed at the papers, reading over the words hastily. She backed up, her body hitting the wall. His stare hardened, eyes watering. "You're... Whistledown."

The hurt in his eyes, his voice, made Pen instantly tear up, "Colin, please I can-"

Colin backed away from her, "I cannot believe this. How could you?"

Pen wiped away her tears, "I am terribly sorry, Colin. Please let me expl-" 

"No, no. I do not want your explanation. What is there to explain? Clearly you are the one who has been writing such horrid things about my family. I cannot believe you would do this to us. To El." He choked out, "To me."

She begged, "Colin, let me explain myself."

"On top of being Whistledown, you come out here in the middle of the night to do your dealings. Unchaperoned, and presumably with no one knowing where you are. You could seriously get hurt! Not only could you ruin your reputation, but you could be harmed. How can you be so careless, Penelope?" He furrowed his brow, his eyes boring into hers.

Pen hated being talked down to. Who was Colin to act so scared for her safety, or her reputation for that matter? He was a vampire, for God's sake. She spat, "The only thing out here that seems to be harmful is you, Colin."

She knew she made a grave mistake. Damn her mouth.

Colin's eyes glowered at her, his body tensing. "What did you say?"

"I-I," Pen took a moment, gathering the courage to speak. "I saw you, Mr. Bridgerton. You weren't simply... caressing some random woman on the street. You were feeding on her. You're a vamp-"

He glared into her soul, demanding, "You are going to forget we had this conversation. You are going to forget what you saw moments ago. You are going to go home. Now."

Pen copied his gaze, shaking her head. "Who are you to tell me what to do? Have you gone mad?"

This was a terrible time to find out that Colin was, in fact, in love with Penelope. He knew he was, but the timing of it all really could not have been worse.

Colin growled, walking up to Pen's carriage door and opening it for her. "Get inside, Penelope. We will talk about this on the way back to your home."

"How can I trust to get in a carriage with you? Are you still hungry?" She sassed, her hands on her hips.

He lowered his gaze, his eyes darkening. "Do not make me force you inside."

Her skin felt hot suddenly, his tone hitting deep within her body. She had never seen Colin like this, and she wasn't sure what to make of it.

Her mind was cautious, nervous. But her body... felt something else entirely.

She sighed, stepping inside her carriage with the help of Colin. He followed her in, sitting across from her. He called out to the footman to go to the Featherington residence.

"Take the long way, please." Colin sat back against the seat, staring at Pen.

"Make a stop at the Bridgerton's house first... please." She called out. The footmen acknowledged their commands, and Colin rolled his eyes at her petty attempt of control. She squirmed under his gaze, unable to make eye contact with him.

He asked bitingly. "Should you start or should I?"

|| Part 2 >>

[heal-the-ashes]

i'm thinking about pl and—like always—i get emotional after anything regarding this series. these stories. the ebb and flow of cherished laughs and pained expressions, the give and take of funny dialogues and heartbreaking reveals. when the end credits songs just wash over the entire experience with additional thoughts (usually angst-y in my case). when you've realized the story you just witnessed and the story that you felt apart of will stay with you for times that seem ephemerally immemorial...

[Slight Miracle Mask and Unwound Future Spoilers near the end]

these games don't show happiness and sadness. they don't show the positives and negatives of how a scene should flow. they don't just have dialogue and action and tone and intonations. 

they have perseverance amidst tragedy, the rose within the thorn, the sun within the bleak clouds. they show that everyone in this series is human. they somehow made me feel—and not in some type of pity way—for those npcs who were stuck on what i thought was the easiest puzzle in the world. there was no humiliation, no real sense of judgement. there was respect and patience and... and there was disappointment, only in one's self. there was no invalidity of emotions. yes, there were invalid actions, but i don't have a single memory of anyone saying another character was stupid for feeling a certain way. there was passive acceptance all around and across the series, there was no stuck-up sounding laughter; no one (to my memory) ever called another stupid for messing up.

and hershel layton is one of the most human characters i have ever seen. 

i saw a fanart that consisted of hershel in different stages of life. it made me emotional, because: 

in each stage of his life that was depicted there… it wasn't growing up. it wasn't milestones of age, it wasn't certain accomplishments in his character. it showed each time he has lost someone. and god does it break my heart to see and realize that he. is still. here. the amount of pain PL characters have gone through just breaks my heart.

and i am so glad and so honestly inspired to know that. and i feel so awful for thinking my problems are bad when i look at the greatest person to ever exist in media ever, who was shaped by traumas far beyond my own. and that is not an understatement: i genuinely believe professor hershel layton is my favorite character in any media. because he and his games tell you that there is more to life than pain. and it is a lesson that i am so glad that i can finally see someone else tell.

miracle mask and unwound future are two of my favorite games because they're the games that tell the audience that he is human. it reveals how he despises—he loathes, he hates—… not emotions. no, not sadness, not regret, not remorse, not disappointment, not pain. no, none of that. 

he hates certain parts of himself. he hates how he dealt with grief. he hates it when he's shown with "proof" that he's gone and done the very thing he swore not to ever do. he doesn't even hate anyone else even though he has so much right to. he should've cussed out bronev off screen. he should've yelled at bill hawks. he shouldn't of saved clive but god what did he do. he saved clive. he saved randall. 

oh, how love is a weapon. this is it. this is one of the greatest examples of how love is a weapon in storytelling. it's not even platonic love between the characters, its the love the audience has for the characters. stories like these twist this and they do it well. but, anyway—

when i was younger, i thought hershel layton was foolish. i thought he was stupid. i used to think: "what is he doing? someone hurts him, why doesn't he want to hurt them back? what's wrong with him that he doesn't want revenge?"

i couldn't of been more... wrong about how he sees the world.

no, he's the one of the greatest persons i've ever seen in media. i've learned so much from him and the PL series as a whole. i've learned something from each and every character. [what i learned from bronev and bill hawks is just to not be them.] 

layton is the kindest person i've seen. there is no earned malice anywhere near him. he doesn't purposefully aggravate others. he isn't mean, he's not one you'd call angry. he's patient and understanding, and he was made from pain. 

if every person was at least a little bit like him, i think the world would be a better place. a place where no one has to be made from pain.

[idw-sonic-fan-blog]

Lanolin is a high ranking officer of Restoration’s offensive division and is the leader of the Restoration’s only military/security division. From what characterization we’ve seen, she is cautious and very task oriented. She is rigid and very much favors a military chain of command as she calls Amy ‘Commander Rose.’ Her team at the moment is comprised of Tangle, Whisper, Duo/Mimic, Surge, and Kit.

It says something that Tangle is her most cooperative and cohesive teammate.

Whisper is quiet and prefers to work alone and while she does agree to play along with the team, she still carries those lone wolf traits such as she chose to act alone and outside of the team and collaborate with Silver to expose Mimic’s game instead of relaying that info to both Lanolin and Tangole beforehand. Because she didn’t trust her own team and kept quiet when she witnessed Duo!Mimic try to kill Silver and then iced out the other two, Mimic was successful in keeping his act up.

Duo/Mimic is obviously a plant to sabotage the team and subsequently the Restoration, and while Surge and Kit initially were, they seemed to have taken to the Hero praise and want to try for real yet even when Surge actually wants to be a good guy the right way, she still doesn’t bother to tell Lanolin that Sonic is the Phantom Rider because why would she.

Tangle doesn’t bother to tell her because, and this totally on Stanley, for some reason, the character is missing her spine anytime she is around Lanolin. Even the most charitable reading I can give this is that Tangle has been so browbeaten by Lanolin that she is too scared to speak up to her for fear of mildly annoying her. This is the problem with Lanolin but more on that later.

And Jewel does not communicate her suspicions about Clean Sweep to Lanolin or anybody really and as Lanolin’s supervisor and superior officer, Jewel is well in her right to not to. But because she is not divulging information that she is suspecting Clutch of foul play, Lanolin is looking stupid trying to arrest Sonic, a hedgehog who has besieged entire armies and battalions by himself, because she thinks Sonic has gone rogue. I mean Tails and Amy have no reason to say anything because the whole plot hinges on Sonic and company using misdirection and being discrete. That’s why Sonic agreed to be the Phantom Rider in the first place.

Here is what Lanolin knew prior to the reveal that Sonic is the Phantom Rider.

• The Phantom Rider interfered in a Restoration backed event and it’s her job to regulate said event.

• The Phantom Rider eluded their capture twice and both times caused a lot of destruction. Once was her fault.

• The Phantom Rider accosted her teammate and caused wanton destruction.

Given the information that she is privy to, yeah, you can’t blame her for being angry with both Whisper and Tangle for not divulging to her that they knew who the Phantom Rider was. And her foolishly thinking that she can arrest Sonic is not the problem. That’s her job. Sonic allegedly according to her and engaging in acts of wanton endangerment for seemingly no reason. Whether she can stop her or not is irrelevant. And Lanolin operates completely different than the rest of Sonic’s crew as she respects structure so she is not quite at the acceptance of granting Sonic the benefit of doubt without explanation. Tangle is because she has worked with Sonic multiple times. Whisper is because she has worked with Sonic many times as well. Lanolin has only been around Sonic through coincidences and only worked with him once. Each time, she was under duress or experiencing some crisis. Point is that whether or not she can or should try arrest to Sonic is irrelevant. Her antagonism is a personality clash without the romantic tension or genuine enmity. She is the type of person who would walk up to Shadow the Hedgehog and ask him to stop if he was causing a disturbance with no fear or thought about self-preservation.

I mentioned how Lanolin is task oriented. What’s her current task? Expanding the Diamond Hunters. This is why she is so protective of Duo. This is why she is willing to accept Surge and Kit in spite of knowing who they are. If Commander Rose vouched for them, then that’s fine with her.

You aren’t mad about the character and her personality. You are mad that she is essentially dog walking Whisper and Tangle. As mentioned earlier, Tangle is letting Lanolin walk all over her. And while it’s meant to be seen as establishing dynamics within the team, it feels like Tangle and Whisper are letting stuff slide at best, or allowing the least experienced person in their trio to dog walk them and that is grating.

[flowerandblood]

My Best Friend (4)

[modern! club owner • Aemond x fem!reader]  

[warnings: kissing, fluff, mention of stalking, swearing]

[description: Aemond has his own club and often does business at the home of one of his business associates. There he often meets his younger sister, with whom he develops a deeper relationship through shared secrets. This is slow burn love story.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist  

_____

Y/N, as previously agreed, sat at the table next to Aemond and Criston. In addition to them, there were a few more of their friends sitting around, whom Y/N knew more or less. 

Of all the girls, Y/N liked Marisa the most. She was quite a cool person and at first glance unpleasant in her attitude, but after getting to know her for a while, she turned out to be incredibly nice and funny. 

This time also with her interesting stories, Marisa managed to dissuade Y/N from unpleasant thoughts and from Albert, who occasionally leered at them, standing at the bar and talking to "colleagues in the industry". Suddenly, Y/N was approached by her father.

"I would like to speak with you. Now." He said briefly. Y/N nodded quickly, not daring to argue. 

"When did you want to tell me, that some juvenile punk is pestering you with messages and photos? Is he here among the guests now?" He asked immediately, enraged, as soon as they moved a bit aside. Y/N sighed.

“Yes, but please, understand, that the situation is very complicated. If I could, I would have reported him to the police a long time ago, but he's got Klaus in his grip." She spoke quickly, trying to explain the situation as best she could.

"Got Klaus in his grip? Because he couldn't read the contract, and it turns out my firstborn son isn't as smart as I hoped?"

Y/N frowned at those words.

“No. Because of the illegal business that, if I remember correctly, you introduced him to, saying that if he did it right, he would lose nothing. But you didn't foresee that, did you?" She asked, nodding towards the bar, where Albert was standing. Her father stroked his beard, fury and fierceness in his eyes.

"You will come back to us, to our family home. You'll be safe there."

"No." She replied right away. "I'm staying with Klaus. Here is my University, my friends. My home." She said finally. 

She could see, that her words hurt him. He and their mother were always the most focused on work - they, as children, were an extra. Klaus and Y/N formed a strong bond, and when Klaus left for college, Y/N couldn't find herself place. 

As soon as she reached the age of majority, she moved in to him. Only when she was with him, she had a real home again - one, where someone was waiting for her.

Y/N turned around and went back to her table. Aemond watched their conversation from a distance and saw, that they were arguing. He was tempted to ask for details, but he figured, that since she respected his privacy, he shouldn't pressure her to reveal herself to him either.

"Criston, please, I need another drink" She said, holding out her empty glass to him. Criston happened to be the closest person to booze. 

The party went off without any major problems, apart from a few drunken excesses. Aemond hadn't said a word most of the evening, deep in thought, but when he saw Y/N getting ready to make herself a fifth drink, he lightly grabbed her wrist under the table, stopping her movement. She looked at him questioningly.

"You do not exaggerate?" He asked, a note of concern in his voice. He had never seen her drink so much. In fact, it was very rare for him to witness her having more than two drinks at a party. Y/N frowned at his question.

"I'm having a good drinking day today. I'm not doing anything wrong." She said with some resentment. She waved her hand for him to let go, but he didn't. His face hardened.

"I wish I could go home knowing, that you're sober enough to understand what's going on around you, so I can sleep peacefully." He said with emphasis, his fingers holding her steady. It didn't hurt her, but it wasn't comfortable. 

Still, his words struck her slightly foggy mind even more, than they usually would, if she had controlled herself. Her eyes widened, as she stared at him silently. She lowered her gaze and hand. 

He stood up for her and tried to help her. He was genuinely worried about her.

She nodded. He let out a grunt of satisfaction and let her go.

They both jumped up, when they heard noises and shouts from the area around the mini-bar. It was Klaus and Albert, writhing on the ground and pounding their fists. They seemed to be explaining the situation.

"Klaus!" Y/N screamed and jumped up, Aemond and Criston followed her. 

People in the crowd, headed by their father, separated Klaus and Albert from each other, both panting and looking at each other with hatred.

"Get the fuck out of here, you bastard. You will never set foot in my house again." Klaus said, spitting blood on the grass. 

Albert laughed, but he was unsteady on his feet and very drunk himself. He started to mutter something and thrash about, but his friends took him by the arm and led him towards the exit. 

"Party's over" Klaus alerted, his eyes cloudy as he leaned against the bar, Criston holding him up on the other side.

After half an hour the garden was almost completely empty. Their father still seemed offended and decided, that he'd rather think things through alone, in the hotel. They didn't stop him. 

Later Y/N said goodbye to Marisa, who was returning with Criston and two other girls by Uber.

Together, Aemond and Y/N led Klaus to his bedroom. Y/N took off his shoes and covered him with the blanket. They hadn't even left the room, when her brother started snoring.

 There was silence as they walked out into the hallway. Y/N leaned against the wall, her eyes heavy. She glanced at Aemond, who was also looking at her. She realized, she didn't want him to go.

"Stay." She said softly, smiling broadly. Alcohol gave her courage. Her smile was full of cordiality and warmth, her eyebrows expressed a sincere request. 

"It will soon be four o'clock. Sleep on the couch, tomorrow I'll make us breakfast like the last time." She said with conviction.

Aemond stared at her and fought with himself. He had drank much, though he'd been much more careful today, than he had been a week ago. Still, he felt oddly energized. 

He watched her as she stood a few steps away from him, leaning against the wall, her hands clasped behind her back. He looked at her dress, at her long legs, at her hair, at her happy, bright eyes. 

"I'm afraid, you won't be able to get up early enough, to make us breakfast tomorrow." He said, looking her up and down. She laughed heartily at his words, completely relaxed. He wondered, how she could trust him so easily. She had no idea, what he was capable of.

"I'll set my alarm clock." She shrugged, a smile not leaving her face. 

Suddenly her eyes widened, as if she remembered something. She burst out laughing, but covered her mouth, to keep from making too loud noises. She took a few steps towards him and took his hand. 

"Do you want to see my childhood photos? I have a whole gem album. You've never been in my room, have you?" She asked lightly, pulling him behind her. Normally, he would have refused her, but now, he couldn't stand up to her.

She opened the door to her bedroom and turned on the light. The walls of her room were a very light, lilac color. There were posters, prints and illustrations everywhere. Her shelves were full of books, records, boxes, and assorted drawing and painting supplies. 

Aemond looked up in surprise. In his opinion, her room was a small workshop. Taking advantage of him looking around, Y/N reached for the album, that she mentioned. She was excited. 

She sat down on the carpet, leaning her back against the side of her bed, and patted the space next to her. He sat down next to her, their arms and legs touching. For some reason, he felt he needed her physical contact. Like this evening in the kitchen, when he kissed her hair. He felt something pleasant back then, light, care and tenderness. He had allowed himself to feel those feelings for her for some reason, and he wanted to feel them again.

"Look!" She said, barely holding back a laugh. 

Aemond glanced and shook his head, sighing, unable to stop the corner of his mouth from curling up. In the photo she was pointing to, Klaus and Y/N were standing. Klaus was probably 10 years old and Y/N was 6. Y/N was dressed up as Piglet and Klaus was dressed up as Winnie the Pooh. They were holding hands. Klaus's face expressed hopelessness and Y/N's immeasurable joy. 

Y/N clutched her stomach. It turned out, that their parents dressed them up every year for the carnival ball, each time thematically. Looking at it, Aemond felt a stab of jealousy again at the thought, of how close she was to her brother. The thought of Aegon made him sick.

"You have siblings, don't you?” She asked curiously, flipping through the pages of the album. Aemond took a moment to answer.

"Yes, I have. But we don't have a relationship as good as you and Klaus." He said dispassionately. Y/N stopped scrolling and glanced at him.

"Why? If, of course, you want to tell me." She added immediately, not wanting to test his patience. Aemond sighed and shrugged.

"What do you want to hear? It's hard to get on with my brother, whom I always have to drive home from brothels and justify him in front of my mother.” He laughed, but it wasn't a happy laugh—it was more of disappointment and bitterness. He looked at her and met her gaze. Their faces were inches apart.

He felt the atmosphere change instantly. He knew, he should look away, move on, tell her to keep showing the photos, but he couldn't. His dull mind roamed her face, from her eyes to her nose, to her eyebrows, soft, slightly red cheeks, long lashes, pleasantly full lips.

 He stopped on them and felt warmth in his stomach. He squeezed his eye shut, trying with what little free will he had left, to divert his thoughts from the direction, that they were heading. He could smell her shampoo, the same one he had smelled before.

He looked into her eyes again and saw that she, too, was following his face with her gaze. When their eyes met, he saw, that she blushed and took a deep breath. Their shoulders and thighs touched tightly, the tension between them almost tangible. 

Her head bent slightly, her eyes closed as she pressed her nose to his cheek. Aemond exhaled louder at the sudden closeness of their faces, but he didn't pull away. He felt his hands tighten on his knees. He ran his nose across her cheek and received a soft sigh, that made him instantly aroused. He squeezed his eye shut, inhaling the scent of her hair.

He knew, that they were both drunk, but he couldn't find the strength to pull away. Her closeness was so gentle, effortless, and he felt, like he could melt. He felt her lips place a gentle kiss on his cheek, and he, without thinking long, reciprocated. They both sighed. 

Her small, slender hand reached for his other cheek. She touched him with her fingertips to where his scars were, not looking at them, still pressed against his cheek on the other side. The movement of her fingers was gentle and unhurried, sending shivers of pleasure through him. 

He let out a low hum and felt her smile on his face, crowned with another touch of her lips to his cheek. He didn't know, how it was possible, that just a few kisses from her and the touch of her hand was enough, to make him so hard. 

He didn't want to spoil the moment, he didn't want it to be like everything else he'd experienced so far. He wanted her tenderness, complete and unfathomable. His hand clenched, his trembling fingers found her hair and tangled in it, much to her approval. 

He rubbed the back of her head with his thumb, running his nose along her cheek and occasionally placing a long, tender kiss there. He involuntarily turned his face to be closer to her mouth, but from her movements he felt, that she timidly did the same. 

As their lips touched, they froze for a moment and pulled away an inch, as if they both gave each other a moment to pause. They quickly leaned in again and again, sighing into each other's mouths, literally massaging each other's lips, as if they were trying to communicate something, to soothe each other. 

Their hands held their faces close together, their breaths were ragged, their kisses getting stickier and hotter. They broke apart to catch their breath. They stared at each other, their eyes dark with lust. Aemond closed his eye.

"I should go to sleep. Down on my couch." He finally said, though his whole body was screaming for him to stay with her, in her bed, to kiss her everywhere, to fuck her mercilessly. Y/N swallowed, her thumb brushing his cheek. A shudder went through him.

"I know." She said finally. 

She pursed her lips as he kissed her forehead and began to get up. The bulge in his pants didn't escape her notice. The realization, that she had such an effect on him, made her blush even more. 

She herself felt an insatiable pressure between her thighs, and as much as she wanted to keep him in her room, she knew, that they were both in a state, that would make them regret it later. After what that woman had done to him, Y/N didn't want to be the one, who couldn't stop herself. The one who will hurt him.

Aemond opened her bedroom door and looked at her.

"Good night." He said, his gaze expressing, that he was leaving her room with the last of his willpower.

"Good night." She replied.

[punkpandapatrixk]

The Kind of Sad You Can’t Understand

Certain days I feel very deeply that I want to cry but I don’t know why.

For such a long time I lived with this kind of mood without being able to express it anywhere, not to anyone. I was struggling for my sanity; I was constantly thinking of destroying myself; and I was hoping someone would see me, and rush to save me. But nobody ever saw that of me.

I was a badass. I was a cool girl. I seemed to everybody else a smart, talented, expensive girl who's got all her shit together. Even on days she wasn't all that together, she had an enviable life anyway. I appeared on the outside too glamorous for anybody to even imagine that on the inside I was rotting. I was this close to being dead, all the time.

Who in their simple-mindedness would've thought a girl like that could be so macabre all the time? And that’s how I experienced an entire life witnessing people’s lack of empathy. I guess my point of view was fragmented but that was how life was for me anyway. Ironically, some intuitive peeps who were able to see the macabre in me thought I was frightening more than anything HAHAHAH That was all the same in the end. Enough with the gossips. I don’t know what normal people expect from everybody else they meet, to be honest. I don’t know what I’d expected from them either.

I guess it’s because the society I grew up in was like that that I couldn’t bring myself to show anybody my distress. Trauma. Mental illness. Disordered personality. All of that was nothing but insanity. And insane people don’t belong in society.

So simple. Yet so cruel.

Thank you, Jesus. Mother Mary. Catholic Church. Thanks for all the rejection. I’m SO happy now!

That’s fucking twisted.

In a society brimming with nothing but pretenders, we meet and chit and chat and act like all of our troubles are manageable to say the least. ‘Yeah, it’s not that bad, to be honest.' But it was; you've just got to pose real strong otherwise people think you're a loser. 'I guess I’m OK.’ But you weren't; you've just got to really make it sound like you're still keeping it together. 'I'll be just fine.' But you wouldn't know; you didn't even know if you'd still wanna be alive tomorrow.

In the midst of all those meaningless exchanges, I hated quite nothing more than to hear, especially from men, how strong I was as a woman. I hated it like I'd never hated anything in my life.

It was suffocating to be seen as holding it together when you were literally breaking at the seams...

I wanted someone to be able to notice I was screaming on the inside. That I was gasping for air every second I was sitting there listening to their trivial chitter chatter. Who cares about your silly drama? Would you care for mine if you knew my life was on the line? And I hated those expectant eyes. All of them. Were they expecting me to share in their self-made woes and console them in the end? HAH. Go to hell, losers.

I always thought, none of MY problems were created by my own reckless behaviours that would've obviously hurt myself or others. Not in the beginning, at least. Unlike some idiots, I was never into drugs, one night stands, or even smoking; I never caused anybody any trouble. So why did everybody cause me trouble when all I wanted was just a peaceful, normal life? Shit, what even was my IDEA of a normal life? I can't remember now.

Certain days I feel very deeply that I want to cry but I don’t know why. There's always not enough reason to do so now. Haah... If it weren't for my abundance of Aquarius, which makes me incredibly lazy and antisocial, I'd have paraded around town and rallied to become a Neo Hitler and kill everybody in this rotten world. I hated this world so much.

The first ever PAC I put out here was ‘What’s Your Crazy?’ What ever was my reason for writing that? I was crazy and I needed some explanation.

I used to look like the girl in the third pic before I chopped all of my hair off everyone began to suspect I was gay. I wasn’t gay; I was depressed. Those unassuming idiots.

[zwoelffarben]

Not derailing this post which is having a very serious conversation about sex, sexnormativity, and such. There's a quote I want to talk about in that @curlicuecal in the conversation says and relate it to the culture surrounding the adoption of new media:

...if you spend some time talking to people with different experiences or learning about even one culture other than your own ... It just opens your eyes to perspectives and options you never even knew existed. And suddenly you have more colors to paint with.

I believe that the major success of homestuck and (unfortunately) harry potter as well as the major failure of Jame Cameron's Avatar, and minor failure of most YA dytopia novels wit harry potter houses correlate to this New Colors Principle: If you give people new colors to paint wit, they will paint with them.

let's skip over homestuck (we'll get back to it) and (unfortunately) talk about harry potter for a moment. The four houses are arguably the biggest part of potterhead culture, and that's more than just marketing. A lot of words have been written on how the houses function in canon, forming the basis for a bad positive feedback loop that ultimately radicalizes snape, voldemort, and other syltherins to bibotry; as well as other problems with their in canon implimentations. But, the thing that made harry potter so fucking popular, aside from the factors of success largely unrelated to the book itself, was that it gave people some fancy new astrology signs by way of the hogwarts houses. They were new colors to paint with, and its unfortunately what makes it so fucking difficult to kill too, because people don't want to lose access to those colors they found meaning in (I still internally identify wit a house, cringing as I do, because I painted myself with that color, and cutting that part of myself away, despite my acceptance of its necessity is a hard and painful process I'm probably never gonna completely manage.)

By contrast, the failure of James Cameron's Avatar to form a cultural splash is because He doesn't spend enough time really rexploring the blue people's culture in a way that's understandable to a human audience. A lot of the blue people's culture exists only as either a plot device or the mystical native trope, which kinda betrays his opinions on the real-life indiginous peoples his blue people are coded as. He had the opprotunity to create some truly fascinating colors, and had he done so by cooperating with the native people he believes are a "dead end society", and all he made was puce blue.

And now back to the other end of the spectrum, to quote myself, "Homestuck is a now concluded long running web comic series written by Andrew Hussie centering around the paradox inducing shenanagains of ten humans, twenty-four trolls, a number of cerebum, and several other species; as they all quest both for personal growth and to herald the birth of a new cosmic frog multiverse which the surviviors of the narative can settle into: It’s a glorious mess." That quote comes from an essay in which I use huusian troll romance to analysize the romantic-sexual attraction of a character from a completely unrelated media.

The popularity of homestuck stems, I argue here in part, from the absolutely unhinged pallette of new colors it created. You've got astrology^2 in the classpects; you've got the trolls with their lexusi, blood heirarchy, and romance quadrants; the leprechaun have their charms (which is itself taking the piss out of troll romance quadrants), the dichotomy of the prospit and derse dreaming, the cherbum, all the various ways to conceptualize the self brought about by shenanagains in paradox spacetime. Homestuck offers some 40+ new colors to fuck around painting wit, and cringe though the execution might have sometimes been, people did enfact fuck around and paint wit 'em.

People love having new colors to play with, and culture is driven by the desire to paint, but also to discover new colors to paint with. What an excellent metaphor, that I should note was made by a person who, at time of writing, has a homestuck icon.

[findafight]

RE Lucas’ book…it’s starting to turn a corner and just become *hilarious* to me how desperate the ST writers are to hammer home that Steve was a jerk in highschool.

Like, I’m genuinely curious if it’s because they’re trying to make his character growth seem more dramatic (unnecessary - he’s one of the few characters who actually has growth) or if it’s an attempt to make his butt-monkey status feel less mean spirited.

Because really, if that bit in Lucas’ book isn’t intended as dramatic irony/Lucas being an unreliable narrator who’s unable to recognise that sport wasn’t the problem or that Steve has grown as a person, or a character beat about Lucas wanting to be independent or something what the fuck is the point? Beyond bitterness that in a show that’s built on uncritically glorifying nerds and 80s nostalgia, the most popular character to come out of it is a rich jock who they repeatedly insist to us is actually very dumb, of course.

But it's also like. The writers themselves don't even give us examples besides what he does and says to Jonathan in S1. And that, while inexcusable, wasn't unprovoked? Like Steve didn't lash out at Jonathan because he was a sad weirdo, he had real personal reasons to specifically want to fight Jon. Doesn't make it right but for sure doesn't demonstrate Steve being an indiscriminate bully.

If they wanted to remind/actually tell us in full show canon that Steve was a horrible nasty person, instead of trying to do that in supplemental material, they could have had Eddie say Steve specifically treated him like shit in highschool (alas, something the fandom seems to think he actually said...) instead of having Eddie say that he made assumptions about Steve and that those were wrong and Eddie changed his mind and thought Steve was a cool guy.

It's super weird because I've read things saying originally Steve was 1) supposed to be more of a cliche 80's jerk boyfriend 2) going to die but Joe Keery is just That Charming and put that into Steve the Duffers and writers decided to switch things around for him, and so maybe these things where people are worried Steve's going to suddenly transform into an ass are like. Leftovers from his original unpublished non canon form? But that wouldn't make sense because these materials came out after S1 and should therefore be based on what we actually got, not development characteristics? Maybe you're right and it is meant to make Steve being a punching bag every seasons less mean spirited.

If it was supposed to be an unreliable narrator moment or a learning sports isn't the problem moment or anything else, I think maybe Will would have been a better character to have doubts about Steve playing basketball again than Lucas. Because he's the kid with the least on screen interaction with Steve and the only one who hasn't witnessed him saving their lives at least once, so would have more reason to doubt his face-turn.

But honestly I think it's just a weird thing where the people writing it cannot grasp that some 1980s hot boy jock would actually be nice. You're totally right that in that the series is BUILT on unquestioningly glorifying nerds and the 80s nostalgia of being one in a heyday of sci-fi classics. And so when the character they originally thought was going to be a jerk and die turned out to be much less of a jerk, decide to do better, and live to become a fan favourite and our specialest boy instead of whoever they projected on the most, there must have been bitterness there. People are so pressed about sports fans being normal humans and not fundamentally flawed because of their interests.

[lhazaar]

Hey I was in that server but I didn't see the post before it was deleted, just the aftermath, what happened? The explanation of the screenshots is so vague and the reaction by mods has been uncomfortable, then I noticed a lot of the main people I'd see active in server have left so I'm very concerned

ty for your patience while i wrote this up, anon

short explanation: there was interpersonal stuff going on behind the scenes at the same time and everything exploded at once. liza has been a shitty friend and i'm angry about it because it's hurt people i care about. she has also been going around to everyone she can trying to drum up sympathy because she doesn't know how to handle her own emotions without getting external validation and, when the people that she farms for that validation have their own lives, it's a huge personal betrayal. this spilled over into the server because she was talking a ton of shit behind everyone's backs about how she thought calling out racism was annoying and she didn't realize that people can be friends independently of her, so of course we talk to each other. people started comparing notes on what she was telling them and how she was acting and they realized it didn't match up.

so here's the post in the server that was deleted:

i wasn't involved with its writing, to be clear; i like micah but we're independent people. i also wasn't in the server at this point because liza preemptively banned both me and one of my partners, who had not spoken to her at all and was uninvolved in this.

what micah's talking about in this post is that liza has been mean about both him and jupiter behind their backs for ages because, during a hades 2 stream, they started talking about the game's whitewashing problems/racism/fatphobia. liza turned around and went to one of my loved ones in a voice call immediately afterwards to complain about how it "wasn't the time or place" and how they were being, yknow, sooo negative when she was just trying to enjoy something. in multiple other conversations, she would complain about people talking about racism in the server and then turn around and be super nice and friendly to the faces of the people she was shittalking for... honestly i don't know what reason there could be. social clout? to feel like she was everyone's friend? she was catty about everyone constantly. sometimes people she didn't like would post in that server and then she'd turn around and get in our dms—including me this time!—and just bitch about them existing. maybe their opinions about dnd were cringe or she just didn't like how they interacted in group conversations. it was constant. it felt like i couldn't push back on any of it because then it would become about her hurt feelings; i regret not challenging her more.

this was accompanied by a pattern where she would see posts on tumblr talking about, for example, how white neurodivergent people's food aversions are not formed in a cultural vacuum. this is specific because this is a real incident that happened. she went to someone i care about, to complain about how the post was making her feel bad, and then when that person pushed back (because, among other reasons, they're mixed and have direct experience with racism around food), liza first shut down and disappeared and then came back the next morning angry and expecting an apology because she was "hurt". this pattern repeated in their interactions over months. there were several fights about it. i know this because we live together and i witnessed the fallout. every single time it happened, there was no room for anyone's emotions but liza's, and no room for anything but reassuring her guilt or her anxiety while she refused to take her rescue medication or talk to her therapist. my loved one brought this up repeatedly. liza knew this was a problem. i think, genuinely, that she believes because she got the verbal confirmation of "i don't hate you + we're still friends" somehow those incidents didn't stack up over time.

like, i want to emphasize immensely that this isn't a callout post. it's not that she's done shit i want smeared all over tumblr. it's a case of "wow, you've been a really shitty friend, and been leaning on your nonwhite friends especially hard while shittalking them behind their backs, and people found out about it because we're also friends with each other and didn't think it was fair or kind". i have very intentionally not sought people out to talk about this because we were friends for so long, so i still want her to get better, and i didn't want her to spin it like a conspiracy where we're trying to drive a wedge between her and her friend group. i actively don't want her to isolate—i want her to get help. a lot of what she's doing and how she's been acting reminds me of how i have acted before when my ocd has been brutally unmedicated. i get the fear of social rejection.

that said: i'm aware of the fallout and i am also very uncomfortable with her reaction and the mod reaction. i especially don't think it was appropriate to fight with kirby over this and to wholesale shut down discussion in the name of "handling it privately". we tried to handle it privately. that's why it went on for so long and why it wound up here. we all gave her the benefit of the doubt. if you come at poc who are telling you hey, this looks and feels really bad and you go well you have to address it privately!! no callout posts!!, all that does is make people less inclined to actually talk to you. you won't meet people where you are, right. liza's a goddamn adult, she shouldn't need people to hold her hand and explain that not every post about racism is personally attacking her.

i understand that liza also feels hurt that i kicked her from our dnd servers. i also understand that she is telling people i did so "without a word" and without discussing it with her first. i'll take some responsibility here: i wasn't aware that discord doesn't show the "ban message" reason to the actual user who gets banned, only to the audit log. here's what i said:

so, yknow, mea culpa. i've never had to ban someone from a server before. i still have not blocked her anywhere, and she is welcome to reach out if she needs someone else to reiterate for the hundredth time why exactly it's not okay to make your friends of colour hold your hand whenever you feel personally targeted by criticism. maybe she'll finally listen if it comes from a white person. i chose to kick her from these games because i am defensive over the people that i care for and i don't want to expose them to someone who will turn around and be mean to them behind their back. that sucks. (she is also a very frustrating player and dm, which is unrelated to this conflict, but which made it easier.) (yknow when you have little frustrations for a while and then something Happens and you see that it's part of a bigger pattern? it's like that.)

the private conflicts i am largely eliding at the request of the people involved. i do feel it's important context that this entire fight started in private because liza got upset that a mutual friend of ours did not notify her before dating someone, despite that friend having turned her down explicitly and kindly four years ago. she proceeded to, again, get in our dms and say cruel shit about how that person wasn't "emotionally mature enough" for a relationship. i guess it would've been different if they'd been dating her? who knows. that's why i called it strahdlike behaviour—i was specifically talking about carrying that torch for someone who doesn't want to date you, getting upset at them when they dare to have their own life, and burning the friendship down over it.

(since you were also in that server, you may be able to figure out some of the people i haven't named but am talking about; i'd appreciate keeping their names out of it, because they really just want to not engage with this anymore at this point. it's been like, days of intense anxiety at the fear of reprisal. i'm also sticking to one pronoun throughout for clarity, but liza uses all pronouns to the best of my current knowledge.)

also i fully understand if it's hard to take me at my word for this because it's effectively hearsay. i'm trying to walk a line here between protecting the mental health of people involved and being clear about what happened and what i wish she would take from this. if there's anything that i can clear up please let me know. if folks from that server want to talk my dms are also open. i didn't want to burn the bridge initially! i only got this angry when she wouldn't stop and then turned around and tried to make this my loved ones' fault. it's genuinely really sad seeing her spiral out like this. i want her to get help and to sit with the uncomfortable emotions, look them in the eye, and learn from them. i want her to go to therapy for ocd. she is uniquely poised to do so with the resources she has. i've talked to her about it before and been responsible for fielding conflicts between her and other people. we cannot save her from her own privilege. that's hers to interrogate. i wish her well, we just can't be responsible for telling her that everything she does is justified and okay anymore.

[nehswritesstuffs]

Avid Reader

I’ve been trying to figure out something LawBin to write for ages now and I’ve finally done it!

3413 words; for @rimetin, who is a sweetheart; takes place post-Dressrosa but pre-Wano (clearly); I am a manga eye color truther so this means brown for Robin and yellow for Law sorry but those are the rules; the fact this ship doesn’t have more traction in Anglophone circles is very interesting to me but hey be the change you want to see in the world I guess; there is no real plot just these two making clumsy moves on one another since it’s me test-driving writing this ship; it kinda got away from me but what else is new

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Trafalgar D. Water Law was getting desperate.

Okay, so maybe that was a strong word. Desperate. It did accurately describe the depth of his feelings as he wandered around the… ugh… Going Luffy-senpai looking for a quiet place to just exist for a while. The rest of the ship felt like one big and obnoxious party, despite the fact that all he wanted was to be left alone the entire rest of the way to Zou—and therefore his crew. There was only one problem with that: his host was making it actively uncomfortable for all but the Straw Hats, which was probably the most annoying part of all.

Eventually, he was able to slip away from both Straw Hat and Bartolomeo long enough to go below deck and begin looking through some of the more empty rooms. After a few open doors leading to sleeping areas, storage space, and further shrines to the Straw Hats, Law eventually found a room labeled “LIBRARY”, which he slipped into without question.

“Couldn’t take much more atop deck?” Law glanced over into a corner and saw Nico Robin curled up on a couch by a port hole, a stack of books at her feet and one in her hands. He let out a heavy sigh of relief, one that she instantly caught. “So I’m correct.”

“You have no idea,” he grunted. He looked around and took in the fact that there was a library on the Going—ahem—on the ship. A quick inspection of the nearest shelf found that it was scarily stocked as well. “Had no idea that our host could even read.”

“Pretty sure it came with the ship,” Robin smirked. She sprouted an arm off the bookcase and plucked a specific book off a shelf, handing it to Law. “This one will suit your interests, I feel.”

He looked at the cover—it was a fiction novel. “Nico-ya, I was aiming for something a little less…”

“If you were looking for a medical journal, unfortunately that is the closest thing you’re going to find, and that includes in the infirmary; I checked,” she replied nonchalantly. “At least the main love interest is a court physician.”

“I’m not looking for a romance novel.”

“You’ll be hard-pressed to find anything different… unless you feel you’re ready to take on Luffy and Rooster-kun again…”

“Eh… I’ve fallen asleep to worse.” Law flopped himself down on the ratted armchair near the other porthole—one leg hooked over the side—and reluctantly cracked the book open to the first page, figuring it was better than nothing. At least if one of the more obnoxious of his fellow passengers found him, he could easily enough shoo them off with a glare and a lie on the topic.

Okay, he had to hand it to Robin; at least she had pushed a book on him that was well-written. It reminded him of the books he’d occasionally find in his parents’ home library, or on the sisters’ desks at school. He’d read a few of them back then, raising his eyebrow at how his mother kept reading them despite anatomy Not Working That Way, but mostly gave them a personal hard pass. What did a little boy know about romance? What did a child understand about relationships spurred on by hormones that they had yet to experience? His parents had never stopped him from reading anything, however, making the novel oddly nostalgic despite the fact he had never seen it before in his life.

The main character was a woman, strong-willed and sharp-tongued as such protagonists oft were. Her quick wit was integral to her getting out of scrapes, but also getting her into trouble as well. There was something amiss at the noble court she had been contracted by a neighboring kingdom to investigate, their tenuous alliance under the World Government’s flag being one that required more skill and finesse than a normal inquiry could garner. She held herself well and was damn good at her job. Said job was testing her limits, and for good reason: there was very clearly something going on, and yet everyone was covering their tracks almost too well. With each new character she covertly investigated, the more tangled the case became, until there was a sort of pallor that hung in the air, tightening around her neck like one of Doflamingo’s strings.

Ah, yes, there was the court physician, finally back from assignment; Law checked and saw he was about a third of the way through. The character was dashing and desirable, possibly the only one to potentially jeopardize the investigation with his odd sort of magnetism that changed the entire mood of the book. It was all the main character could do to keep a level head with him around. They stole each other away from the costume ball and began to kiss passionately out on the veranda, the novel devolving into descriptors almost more at home in Shachi’s collection of naughty Sora, Warrior of the Sea fan zines.

Quirking his eyebrows, Law knew the implications involved with Robin having expressly recommended this book to him. They were still allies until they reached his crew, but this… this was far from appropriate for mere allies, threatening his poker face with… let’s be honest. It was smut she handed him. At least, it was about to become smut if he was gauging it correctly. He flipped to a few pages further on and… yeah. It was down-right filthy. Wasn’t she with Robo-ya? As in they were together-together? It didn’t make sense…

Law then made the mistake of glancing over to where Robin was still sitting, light now filtering in directly through the porthole now. It caught her dark hair and brown eyes in a way he had not seen before, causing a brief thought to cross his mind. Seas, was it the book’s flowing language getting to him or was she rather pretty with her nose in a book? He realized he had been staring when she turned her gaze up and gave him a smile.

“Enjoying the novel, Torao-kun?” she chuckled. His face darkened in blush and he dropped his eyes back to the page.

“Nothing… just…” A lie, a lie, quick… “With the sun I’m seeing some differences between you now and when your bounty photo was taken—the one our host has framed. Did you have access to vitamin supplements wherever it was you were hiding?” Okay, not the best of his lies, but it would do for the time being.

“Hmm…? What do you mean…?”

“You’re much paler now. A change of that magnitude can only come from a prolonged period with minimal sun exposure. Usually vitamin supplements are necessary when such a relocation happens.”

“No vitamins, but you’re right in that I did go from being in the sun a lot to not rather recently. It was when our crew was broken up in Sabaody—I was transported to a very cold place in the East, near the northern-most part of the Red Line.”

“I grew up in the North—my sympathies.”

Robin gave a nod and suddenly hands appeared over by a small door in the wall, opening it to reveal it was actually a dumbwaiter with some freshly delivered tea. Law was surprised for half a moment—of course Chicken-ya would know to have his crew send her some tea every once in a while. He took his leg off the armrest to get up, only for her to hold up a hand to stop him.

“Allow me.”

With a flick of her wrist, Robin activated her Devil Fruit ability to retrieve the tea tray. Instead of it being a series of hands, however, as Law was used to, an entire clothed replica of her body sprouted up from the floor and took the tray from its cubby to the small sidetable that sat between the couch and armchair. The replica gave him a wink before disappearing in a flurry of petals, which also dissipated as they fluttered away.

“That’s… different…” he choked out. “I… didn’t know you could do your whole body.”

“I can, but I can’t hold it as long as I’d like yet,” she replied. Robin put down her book and poured them both some tea, expertly ignoring the large thud that rocked the ceiling above them atop deck. She passed him his mug—no sugar or milk—and shrugged. “Not nearly as useful as your ability, but it has its uses.”

“You make it sound like a party trick.” He blew a puff of air across the surface of the tea before taking an exploratory sip—still too hot. “Didn’t take you for the type.”

“It’s no party trick.” A wicked grin crept across her face as she took a sip of tea. “Would you like to help me practice?”

He gave a short nod. “I could. Chicken-ya seems to have a decent sparring area on the forecastle…”

“Right here is fine,” she replied. Robin leaned back into the couch with her tea and her book, a Devil Fruit clone of herself sprouting up next to her. “It’s not something that needs the sparring area, I imagine.”

It took Law a moment to realize that she did not mean sparring, as the Devil Fruit clone approached him, hips swaying just enough to notice. Leaning forward at the waist, it held his chin as their lips pressed together in a chaste kiss.

Quickly, Law put up a Room and checked to see where everyone was on the ship. Most everyone was distracted by the continuous party, with the remainder keeping to actual jobs they had aboard ship. He locked the door before dropping the Room’s field, definitely not wanting to be disturbed now.

“You know what to do,” Robin said through her clone. Law looked at her and saw that the original was sitting rather calmly, not visibly registering the contact her clone was doing. He placed his mug of tea down on the sidetable and swallowed hard.

“Aim is endurance, then?”

“…that and not allowing what happens to my clone to show on the original,” she admitted. The clone’s hand let go of Law’s chin and instead pressed against the back of the chair, fully trapping him.

“Do your worst,” it dared.

Carefully, Law placed his hands on the clone’s hips and pulled them closer, making it straddle his lap as it sat. His thumbs accidentally brushed under the false clothing and marveled at the fact the skin under the shirt felt warm. The clone’s hands gently caressed his face as it leaned in and started kissing him in earnest, teeth worrying his bottom lip as he looked over at the original.

She turned a page in her book and kept reading. How the fuck…?

The Devil Fruit clone’s hands then began to wander, moving under his unbuttoned shirt to touch his shoulders and chest. He tried not to moan as fingers lightly went over his nipples in a teasing manner—this wasn’t fair.

“You play dirty, Nico-ya,” he wheezed.

“I play fair as is needed,” the clone murmured against his mouth. “Come on Torao-kun… don’t be shy… I know you’re more clever than that…”

A moment’s worth of thought crossed his mind—the novel! She must have known how far he had gotten before they began with tea. He tried to remember what had been in the novel, his brain beginning to stutter due to the unexpected contact.

Oh… if only the guys could see him now… they’d never believe it.

“I thought you were with Robo-ya…” he breathed. He wasn’t going to ask permission, but the least he could do was avoid making however long of a trip they had in front of them growing awkward.

“Even if I was, I don’t think he’d blame me.” Robin’s clone moved one of its hands to his shoulder, then back of his neck, and the other to the small of his back as it continued to kiss him. “I’d be getting a real boy for once.”

“You get the real deal and I don’t?” He worked one hand under her shirt and another up the leg of her shorts, getting a decent handful of what certainly felt like real tit and ass, giving both a squeeze. “That’s hardly fair.”

“Prove you’re ready for the big leagues and then we can talk,” the real Robin chuckled. She took a sip of her tea and her clone continued to kiss him, egging him on.

“The big leagues? How do you know I’m not already there?”

“…because if you were, I’d have a much more difficult time following this book.”

It took all the synapses in Law’s brain firing at once for him to remember what the two characters in the novel had been doing. He recalled the court physician using his long fingers to his advantage, which made him decide to do the same. Shifting his fingers, he felt to see if there was anything for him to anatomically tease between her legs—there was. He found its entrance first, then the nub of its clit, feeling the clone shudder as he rubbed a few quick circles before it burst into a cloud of petals that vanished in thin air.

“What was that?” Law teased. Robin frowned and reformed another clone, this one in the dress she had worn when she last stepped off the Thousand Sunny… and only the dress from what Law could tell. He pulled this clone in with more purpose, grinding his hips up into its, hearing a gasp from clone and original alike. “And here you were making fun of me.”

“Rude,” the clone scoffed, pinching some skin on his chest. He retaliated by grinding up between the clone’s legs again, making sure that his growing erection hit where it was needed most. “It’s a lot of work remembering all the details to replicate on each copy. Should I take shortcuts on the next one?”

The next one…? Another clone? Fuck that… Law was determined to the real Robin before they were done.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Two hours later, Luffy came barging into the library, a large turkey drumstick in one hand and his eyes full of mirth. There was food again! The ship’s cook finished making dinner! Robin and Torao needed to stop being cooped up inside and go eat on the deck!

It was a good thing he didn’t catch the pleased sweat on Robin’s brow, nor the flash of horror in Law’s yellow eyes as he quickly moved a cushion to cover his undone trouser fly, nor the assortment of petals that covered the floor as they faded into nothing…

…though… huh… Torao’s tea was cold. A full mug too! Maybe that’s why he seemed upset? His face was really red… oh well! Some meat could help him cheer up! Luffy wrapped a noodly arm around his friend and dragged him from the library, despite his protests and Robin’s giggling.

People sure were weird sometimes.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

With the Alliance made and everyone breaking off to their separate assignments, now that he and his crew were again within the auspices of the Polar Tang, Law felt more at-home than he had been in ages. Everything was beginning to settle into something closer to what it should have been—what it was going to be after they defeated Kaidou—and for the first time in a long time, Law found himself beginning to unwind.

“I don’t know what the fuck you people did, but I like this version of the Captain,” Penguin chuckled as he brought a tray filled with drinks over to the table. They were in the middle of riding a current, so the most that all but a handful of them had to do was wait. Most of them were gathered in the mess hall shooting the shit or, in his captain’s case, simply tolerating the others’ presence.

“Helped me get a fucking dragon off my back,” Law grumbled as he reached for a drink. He pulled his hand back for a moment as Zoro grabbed two drinks at once, going back for his allotment when the other swordsman was firmly double-fisting the alcohol. Penguin tried to yank the tray away but to no avail.

“I meant something else, but whatever,” he shrugged. Law downed half his mug at once and glared at his crewmate—no, one of his oldest friends. “Pretending ain’t gonna work. I’ve known you long enough to know better.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Law tried to appear aloof, yet knew he wasn’t fooling anyone from his crew. He felt Penguin’s stare bore straight through him, their guests not picking up on what was happening. It was then that their final guest came through the doorway into the mess hall—Robin. “Nico-ya, I thought you said you needed a lie-down.”

“I feel much better now, thank you,” she smiled. No… something felt a little off… “I have a question for you, Torao-kun.”

“Is it about the ship?” Penguin asked suavely, passing the drink tray to a passing Uni. Of course he would jump at the opportunity to be alone with a pretty lady not named Ikkaku. “I might be able to assist you.”

“No, I think I might,” Shachi cut in. Fucking hell, where did that perv come from? “The Tang is a marvel, isn’t she?”

“That she is,” Robin agreed, “but I wanted to discuss a book your captain and I were both reading on the Going Luffy-senpai. You do remember the end, correct?”

“I do,” Law nodded. He stood, poured the rest of his drink into one of Zoro’s (who simply shrugged and kept going; the liver damage had to be insurmountable), and walked past the insanely grumpy Penguin and Shachi to join Robin in the corridor… except… “Couldn’t come here yourself?”

“Think of it like another test,” the Devil Fruit clone smirked. It walked with him over to the door to his cabin before dissipating, Law waiting until the final petals vanished before slipping into the cabin and locking the door behind him.

There, sitting at his desk and looking over some of his notes with great interest, was Robin—the real Robin—wearing nothing but one of his button-down shirts, just like the heroine of the novel as she was readying to team up with the court physician in the final act. He felt his face grow hot in embarrassment as he realized she was reading one of his Sora, Warrior of the Sea compilations, the familiar tome looking strange in her hands.

“I have to admit, I never took you as a comics fan,” he said, trying to play it cool. He went to the desk and rested his chin on Robin’s shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“I used to read Maruko-san when I was little, but I never really had the chance to keep up considering everything.” She turned a page and chuckled lowly. “This looks interesting—maybe I’ll read this instead.”

“Instead of what? Maruko-san?”

“Instead of seeing if you’re finally ready to show me how the book ended.”

Law raised an eyebrow; wasn’t the book merely an excuse? Code? He felt himself get pulled backwards by a familiar hand and he knew that it was another Devil Fruit clone, courtesy of Robin’s desire to torture him. It manhandled him towards the bunk, aggressively making him sit on the mattress as it prepared to keep him occupied while the original read.

Well, two could play at that game; an open Room and a twitch of his wrist swapped Robin with her Devil Fruit clone, putting her in his lap. She frowned playfully at him as she realized what happened and allowed her clone to dissolve.

“I lost my page.”

“Mmm… I’ll catch you up.”

“You sure?” She looked in his eyes as his hands idly began to work at opening the shirt she had stolen. Brown and yellow stared one another down as buttons were carefully undone, making them both wonder how this—whatever it was—would survive once they were in Wano.

“I’m sure.” He opened a Room again and watched her expression turn curious. “Now it’s my turn to test something I’ve been working on. Be as loud as you want; I dare you.”

He watched her grin and knew that if they wanted it, there was definitely a chance this could last.

[aribluart]

Obito and Kakashi, and the "topos" of journey- part 1: Obito

(An I-tried-analysis-sorta-meta inspired by literature. Mostly, there will be references to the "Orlando furioso", and only when I finished to write this on Word I noticed that there are even more common elements. Never thought that one day I could find connections between a manga and an Italian chivalric poem, but there it is.) Note: this is very long and I had to divide it in two. Also, Kakashi's part probably makes no sense. Sorry for that. Something that I have always find intriguing, it's the relevance of "topoi". "Topoi" it's the plural form of "topos" (from ancient greek "τοπος", with the meaning of "place"); a "topos" is an element of rethoric, used when talking about "clichés"; more precisely, a "topos" is a recurring narrative theme. A "classic" example is the "locus amouenus", a recurring theme in Latin literature: an ideal place characterized by calm and peace, usually used as setting for poems (i.e: "Eclogues" by Virgil); those were places immersed in the wild nature, most of the time a clearing and were viewed as the only places where one could find true peace and their own"true self". Naturally, the "topoi" can be found in every type of arts, especially in painting. After this harangue of an introduction, let's get to the real analysis. In one of my previous post, I wrote that Obito and Kakashi are human characters. Other than that they are, also, characters who symbolize two different kind of living or, rather, two way to think, apparently discordant together but that can coexist without any problems; in fact, it's not strange that one and the same person agrees with both ways. How many said before, Obito and Kakashi are "the two sides of the same coin". Anyone can have the "gut response" as Obito and the "internalization" as Kakashi. Both reactions can coexist: for example, how many times happens to reply in a rage while, inside, we feel the opposite and hide it?

[Now, let's go back to the "topoi" for a moment: they are too many to keep track and it's impossible to try and make a complete list. This analysis is about the topos of "journey", which include inner, physical and the search for something (i.e: Odysseus's return journey back to Ithaca, Orlando's journey to the moon to retrieve the bottle with his wits)].

Both Obito and Kakashi are characters shaped by an inner journey. With Obito we have a character who, in spite of what's happening around him, he try to bent the world and its events at his will, but always following his initial dreams: bringing peace to the ninja world and rebuilding the society with a new system (like he himself implied in his "talk" with Kakashi when they were kids).

The not insignificant change from when he was a kid, it's the method to fulfill his once dreams. Like I wrote in a previous post, his are understandable reactions. I don't condone in any way his actions and, personally, I don't like how his redemption was done (yes, I'm against capital punishment), he should have had the chance to remedy to his crimes in another way. We readers have the privileged position of an outsider, which let us see the story in its entirety. It's should not be forgotten that the crucial moment that have dyed with darkness his initial dreams happened when Obito was young. At the tender age of thirteen/fourteen, Obito saw his entire world flipped and crumble right before his eyes. To him, Rin's suicide through Kakashi was, indeed, a "wake up to reality" as Madara planned. Obito and Naruto are extremely similar, we all know that, and Obito's reaction its levels far superior to any reactions Naruto has in the manga. Not even a minute after awakening his Mangekyou, Obito use his new abilities with frightening accuracy and instinct, both originated from the understanding that he has nothing left to lose, because he already lost everything: and from here, his obsessive view of the reality it's born. All that initial rage, dismay and loss developed with the years, culminating in the final understanding of the fallacy of the entire world. But, despise having lost everything because of Madara plan (and Obito even exceeded Madara's expectations), Obito has not lost his dreams. Obito is so engrossed by the "infinite Tsukuyomi" project because it's now the only way and method he has to achieve those dreams. There's something that it's not talked about enough, and it's that even dreams have two face. The world isn't and has never been totally good or bad, but is both; and everything has its pro and cons. Obviously, to Obito the cons of the project "infinite Tsukuyomi" are nothing in comparison to the pros. Naruto defined his actions, justifiably, as selfish and egocentric. But this selfishness and egotism are nothing more than a brew of a "negative" journey. Okay, so, how I wrote above, the "journey" it's a typical theme in literature. A "journey" bring change, inner and external, and there are countless examples of this. In this post, the focus is on the "inner journey" which, usually, involves the search for something, a recurring theme in "chivalric romance". Mostly, the "inner journey" it's always "positive": the main character is searching for something that could help them, or something that can be useful for the common good. Obito's journey is the opposite: the start has a good purpose as goal, but his journey has a rocky "middle" and soon it dismantles what make him Obito. It's no coincidence if his journey is portrayed with the assuming of different identities: the "leader", conferred by Madara (and we could easily define that scene as a "knighting ceremony") and the "Harlequin" (yes, I called Tobi "Harlequin" for a specific reason). But, maybe there is a third identity, the "maestro", that we could consider the closest to the real Obito. His journey bring Obito to an annihilation of his "ego" (I'm sorry, I swear I don't want to talk about philosophy and psychology. From now on in this analysis, I'll use "self" instead of "ego"), an attempt to "destroy" himself and that bring him to later identify himself as "nobody" (and I realize that I made a prior reference to Odysseus...again, not my initial intent). But, as I wrote above, the dreams and wishes of Obito remained the same after the years, it's the method to achive them that has changed. He is still the same old Obito, even though Kakashi doesn't think so (at first). Obito it's the same Obito of the past because his "self" has remained the same. Obito's journey starts as "negative" and it ends "positive"; its a journey that took him to the understanding of what is the growth of a person, the awareness that we change physically but our core (i.e: our emotions and our ideals) it's the same, just "matured", even if we hide it.

[thislovintime]

Peter’s application picture to Carleton College, 1959 (courtesy of Carleton College Archives).

“When I was in junior high school, I was a punk. I wanted people to love and admire me for my gentle wit, my talented music-making and my beauty of personality. Instead I was loathsome and irritating and quarrelsome and I didn’t know why people didn’t like me. But I began to think and meditate on it. Meditation is the only way the personality can be improved, and gradually I began to work things out and better myself. I like to give someone as many ‘different sheets of music paper’ as I can — behave differently toward him each time I see him. That is the only way someone can know what the real me is like. You can’t know the real me by only talking to me. I believe that you can tell more about people by the way they looking walking away from you than you can by what they say.” - Peter Tork, Seventeen, August 1967 (x)

“‘All of my early life was spent feeling out of whack. Physically I matured late and never was very athletic and always found myself on the short end of the stick. I was raised in a liberal family in the middle of the McCarthy era.’ Against those odds, Tork inevitably developed an inferiority complex that he carried into adulthood and his musical career. When he became one of four young men chosen out of 437 applicants to become what were supposed to be the ‘American Beatles,’ his self-doubt grew to mammoth proportions. ‘Half of the time I would think I didn’t deserve it and the other half I would think I was God’s gift to the children. I got my head turned around. It was the “arrogant doormat” syndrome low self-esteem combined with arrogance.’” - The Daily Oklahoman, November 7, 1983 (x)

“‘My life between then [moving from Wisconsin to Connecticut] and my senior year of high school was a total disaster,’ says Peter. ‘In fifth grade I started going downhill because I was unhappy. I was constantly trying to make friends and trying to be funny but never succeeding because I was so much younger. I did have a small circle of friends but that was at home, it didn’t have much to do with school.’ […] ‘When I was little I wanted to be an orchestra conductor. I remember a time when I was in Germany, I was about four years old, we went to a restaurant where they had an orchestra and the leader let me get up and conduct it. As I got older I began to love folk music, particularly the Weavers stuff.’ Around 1956, as rock ‘n’ roll was beginning to make its impact, Peter was pursuing rather different musical interests. Folksinger Tom Glazer […] became a friend of the family and presented fourteen-year-old Peter with a ukulele, which he mastered with disarming ease. ‘Then I took up the guitar and later I learned to play the five string banjo. Learning to play musical instruments always came easy to me. Other things I couldn’t learn no matter how hard I studied.’ Peter’s adolescence took a turn for the better around the time of high school senior year, when he was moved to the newly-opened University of Connecticut High School. ‘It was much more comfortable. The age difference ceased to matter and I finally got a chance to make some real friends. This is when I guess you could say I blossomed out. There were all kinds of amateur societies I could join, like drama and rifle shooting. I even started going to football and baseball games. […] I was very interested in drama but I was a late grower and because I was so short I never got any big romantic leads. My acting debut, at age sixteen and a half, was as a thirteen-year-old paper boy in Our Town. This was a bit degrading; it reminded me of the age problem, that had dogged me all through school.’ Peter also contributed to the school newspaper, submitting bizarre humor pieces illustrated by his younger brother Nick. Buoyed up by new confidence and security, Peter took a crash course in the French horn and was invited to join the University (not high school) of Connecticut Orchestra, as fourth chair French horn. ‘I really began to love music, just about every kind except opera. Sometimes I liked listening to classical music better than anything. My favorites were Prokofiev, Bach, Rachmaninov and Stravinsky. Pop music seemed kinda drab around that time. The hard core rock ’n’ roll era had ended and most of the excitement had gone. I was hung up on the orchestral music we played at school. About the only popular stuff I used to really listen to was Ray Charles.’” - Monkeemania (1997)

“A friend of the family, Tom Glazer, a folk singer, is the one who started it all for me. He gave me my ukulele. I had been taking piano lessons but when I got the uke, I found I could go plunk, plunk, and it was a sound I really dug. My mother wanted me to keep studying the piano, but I couldn’t make that plunk-plunk sound on it even after practicing. Knowing the piano helped a lot, though. I played other instruments too, like the French horn. I played that as a senior in high school in Connecticut and in a university band.” - Peter Tork, Seventeen, August 1967 (x)