#because like.... she keeps having vision in ways

[sevikasbooyahh]

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐇𝐂'𝐬

Just random random headcannons about my wife <3

She makes lots of noises; grunts, sighs, groans. It’s basically a language that only you can understand at this point.

“Hmph,” she grunted with her usual grumpy expression. “You want cuddles?” She nods her head in response.

Snores but denies it. It’s like when you’re sharing a hotel room with your family and your dad’s snoring keeps you awake; staring at the ceiling. You’ve told her multiple times but she just doesn’t believe it.

“You kept me awake all night,” you said in disbelief as your utterly exhausted eyes met hers. “Uh-huh, how? Do NOT say because I was snoring.””You were snoring.”

But in all seriousness, she started sleeping on her side—the snoring was due to her sleeping on her back.

Doesn’t care for public affection, not that she won’t slip her arm around your waist or have her hand on your thigh once in a while—but it isn’t often.

(Saw someone else say this)—absolutely loves dad jokes. She won’t laugh at anything else but dad jokes.

“Hey babe,” you slid next to her on the couch. “Hm?””What days are the strongest?“ you asked. “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Saturday and Sunday,” you started to smile. “Why?” She was slightly curious. “‘Cause the rest are weekdays,” she couldn’t even hold it before she burst out laughing.

Takes her mechanical arm off before she goes to bed because she doesn’t wanna hurt you.

Tough with everyone else but you, Jinx and Isha (they’re alive and well).

Isha made a cheerful noise as she raised her tea cup. Sevika sat across from her, hunched over the small table, teacup in hand. She pretended to drink from it, “Mm, nice.”

Perfers actions over words—for example, her version of an apology is by doing more of what she should’ve done in the past. If she wasn’t spending much time with you before, she’d immediately take it upon herself to fix her schedule.

VERY protective, especially when you’re at The Last Drop, nothing escapes her vision.

Once, this guy attempted to flirt with you but before he could get a word out, he was immediately met with a deadly glare from her. She pulled you closer towards her with a raised eyebrow, “You got something to say?” That sent him babbling in fear, “Uh-no, no, of course not!—“”Get out of my sight.”

Claims she’s not an animal person but will come home with a kitten she found on the street.

“It wouldn’t stop following me,” she said while avoiding eye contact with you. You knew she was lying.

Sometimes when she comes back from work she’ll just collapse on the couch. She’s a busy woman, alright?

Jinx cut her hair then made fun of her afterwards.

Jinx cackled after she looked at the final product, “Sweetcheeks ain’t gonna love you now, are they?” The older woman simply grumbled under breath, “You’re the one who cut it.””Yeah and I made it ugly on purpose.”

You ended up loving her hair anyway.

Secretly likes when you lay on top of her; loves seeing how comfortable you are

She’s always warm; your personal heater

Somehow gives the best hugs—bear hugs, but is so awkward with it

Takes the longest showers known to mankind; once she gets in, be prepared to wait about an hour. Meanwhile, half the time it’s just her staring at the wall.

Will let Isha climb her on rare occasions; sometimes the girl gets insanely hyper and is moving all over the place.

Says she’s “not fond of kids” but has a soft spot for them.

A little boy with blue-dyed hair walked up to her while she was outside one day. “H-hi, can you please sign this?” He asked in a soft-spoken manner, showing a drawing, offered with a crayon. She didn’t respond but took the paper and signed her name on the back. Internally, she was in disbelief that this boy looked up to her in some way. “Thank you!” He gave a big smile before running back to his group of friends, happily showing them the signature. A twitch edged at the end of her mouth.

[yearningandstillnotlearning]

𝑺𝑻𝑨𝒀 𝑺𝑶𝑭𝑻,

𝑮𝑬𝑻 𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑵.

A/N: okay bear with me, this is a ‘poem’ (i don’t know what else to call it) that i wrote and when i read over it i realised some girls here would appreciate this imagery with their own infatuations, so whilst its not written like fan-fiction i felt generous enough to share it and i hope at least 1 of you will like it, best part is that you can picture any one of your favourite girls!!! Instead of a name i call the other character “Pretty”, so keep that in mind while reading, and again, this isn’t written like fan-fiction, but still i would appreciate it if you gave it a shot and told me what you think ♡

tags: lesbian only, think anyone!, femme!r, metaphors, suggestive, nsfw undertones but they are so slight and hidden beneath the wordplay that i can’t really count this as nsfw, sadomasochistic in a way, did i forget something? Let me know!

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · ୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨ · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

I don’t want a cottage, i don’t want a life in simplicity and independency. I want a castle, i want an abandoned mansion adorned by vines hugging it long after solitude fell cold and loveless upon its very walls.

I want to hear the floors creak with every step, i want to hear the tremble of the floors effortlessly mirror the tremble of her legs, i want to have her, Pretty, and i want to keep her on her toes. I want, behind her gaze, to be as unpredictable as the grass around the mansion, a neglected ring of hues of green. Tall, short, eaten, rotten.

I want to give her the world, and i want to make her spin in the middle of it, i want to give her everything and make her feel like in a moment she could have nothing.

I want to make her dizzy and i want to make her euphoric, i want to see her scared and i want to hold her close, be the one to comfort her, Pretty.

I want our clothes to dance against each other when the weather drops and i take her out on walks, on the endless garden we’ve named ‘our hearts’ that no matter how long it’s been there for, untouched, unloved, uncared for, it just never seems to end.

I want her to let me tear her cotton fabrics apart and off, torn by grinding teeth and claw-like nails, hungry like a centuries-old vampire, lifetimes of self control and respect disintegrated in the very same time span Pretty’s clothes get ripped. Carefully laboured fabric, soft as freshly laved hair, made with the selfish, miserable thought of this granting them extra bread on their dinner plate.

And she would, she would let me tear her apart in one shared gaze. She would let me hold her and scratch her open, she would let me wound her because she knows i’ll be the one to heal her up again. And she knows i’ll do it before she can build the thought of asking me to.

She would let me darken her vision under the noon sun, heating and blinding. She would let me bruise her neck, violet splats trailing down her body like a rosemary. She would let me reach her depths and spin them around, it’d be nothing new to her, as long as her world is intertwined with mine she’s always spinning, she’s always dizzy. She would let me cradle her head as i treat her like fresh meat in aching, starved hands, because i’ve done so another hundred times, and each one she only seems more unwilted than the last.

Because she knows she’ll get me back.

Because she plans on making my darkest nights luminous, and she knows i’ll let her. The story is always the same; she unwraps me like a one-of-a-kind royal heirloom, her touches vigilant, precise on what she unfolds, what lies beneath her hands. And she knows i don’t fancy peace, her words forming clear juxtaposition to her touches, there are no blurred lines, my sense of touch and my sense of hearing are in two completely different words, and yet they co-exist in the pits of my stomach.

But like every child asking their parent to tell them a bedtime story, it doesn’t matter if its always the same, they always enjoy it the same. At the end of the day they fall asleep to it every time.

I’ll let her unwrap the lace off the corset, i’ll let her loosen every layer, watch the silks fall off my form, i’ll let her tell me the harshest things that leave my throat closing in on itself, as her hands soothe around my flesh getting me to ease up. She’ll rock me back and forth from being velvety to being cruel, i know it, and i will let her.

Because it takes two to dance, if you’re unable to match the other’s rhythm what’s the fun? It’s only enjoyable when you’re both having fun. 🫀

[live-laugh-lenney]

Can u pls write a smut where Arthur comes home after the worst in class episode in his little green suite, and maybe they roleplay or sumthing more vanilla

i'm telling you... there's something in the air right now because all these british youtubers are going through the peak of their lives right now in terms of how hot they're looking... don't tell me you don't agree. 👀 || WARNING: SMUT.||

"stay right there."

"pardon?"

"i need you to stay right there for a moment. don't move," she insists, holding a finger in his direction to keep him still, occupying the open doorway of arthur's en-suite bathroom and allowing her eyes to take in his appearance by dragging her vision up the figure dressed so elegantly in a suit coloured with a deep green material, "let me look at you for a minute."

"i'm confused," he hums out, hands on his hips and his elbows bent outwards, his eyebrows furrowing on his browline as he felt desperate for an answer, "what is happening?"

"don't be confused, babe," she shakes her head with a smirk on her lips, finally letting her eyes land on his face, "i just, i really like this look right now."

it dawned on him then, in the moment they finally made eye contact, that she was feeling a rather specific way towards him in the outfit he had worn for a video shoot that afternoon, his cheeks flushing a pink colour at how ravenous she seemed to look from where she had been stood in the doorway of his bathroom. her eyes had darkened, pupils large and black and overtaking the colours of her orbs, and she'd pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and she chewed hungrily on the flesh... all whilst refusing to tear her eyes away from his face.

"oh, you do, huh?"

"yeah, i really like it."

he cautiously took a step towards her and he was certain that he saw an intake of breath get caught in her throat, and the way her eyes widened at his movement had the depth of his stomach tingling, an urge to reach her quicker than he was planning to.

"don't take it off," she whispers softly, taking one large step to close the gap between them, his warm breath washing over her face and she felt her knees almost buckle beneath her, "keep it on. please."

his arms wrapped tight around her waist and he pulled her close to his front with her arms, out of pure instinct, joining around his neck, hands connecting at the nape of his neck and her fingers finding refuge in the hair at the back of his head. twisting the tips into the soft strands and pulling ever so gently on the tufts she had a hold of.

"someone's really in the mood today," he admits cheekily and she can't help but gulp thickly to his question, "did you miss me today?"

"miss you all the time you walk out the door," she says in reply, dragging her arms down his shoulders and loosening the tie that was still done to perfection around his neck, "but when you come back looking like this-"

"like what?"

he wanted to hear her say it. he wanted her to use her words. he just wanted to have clarification, to hear her verbally admit to him, that it was a turn-on for her to see him to handsomely dressed.

"arthur, please."

it was whiny, desperate, beautifully implorable and he could feel himself harden up in his boxers at the mere thought of being just brief minutes away from being deep inside her, having her mewl out and moan in pleasure, living a fantasy she'd never thought much into before. his fingers digging into her hips, his heart racing in his chest, tongue licking across his bottom lip at the thought of having her weak and reliant on him as she stood before him.

"tell me," he whispers softly, leaning his head down and much closer to her level, the tip of his nose brushing against her cheek as he spoke gently into her ear, "tell me how turned on you are. tell me how you want me to fuck you right now. tell me how you feel, lovie."

"i need you," her head tilts back and his eyes matched the exact same darkened look that she had in her eyes, moments ago, her hands pulling his head closer to hers and her lips brushed over his, "right now."

"right here?"

she nods quickly in response, "please."

his lips attached themselves to hers in a rough kiss, full of passion and hunger, overwhelmed by the desire to have her where she was so in need of him. his hands gave the tops of her thighs a pat, urging her to pull away from his lips and to jump up for a second, hands ready to catch her as her legs wrap around his waist and her ankles hook at the base of his back. immediately going back to having their lips dancing together with passion.

her back was soon against the mattress, body placed on the edge of the bed as he pulls away from her, standing above her.

"don't you dare take it off," she cries out breathlessly, shaking her head when she saw his fingers touch the buttons of the blazer, "don't, please."

"how am i supposed to-"

"just take your pants off," she digs her toes into the plump flesh of his covered bum and urges him to return to his previous position, "we don't need romance right now, arthur. i just need you. i want you."

the urgency in her voice, dripping with a desperate plea, had him eagerly throbbing behind the material of his trousers. fingers undoing the belt, followed by the button, followed by the zipper as he wiggles out of the waistband and lets the garment drop to his knees. her eyes wandering down his body, settling on his hardened cock hidden by his boxer shorts, pleading with her eyes to release what she was after.

he sprung into action, her head rolling back because she was always in complete awe and astonishment at how lucky she'd gotten to be with someone so incredible as pleasing and satisfying her, knowing she was in for a treat that afternoon. he hoists up the material of her t-shirt and hooks his fingers into her knickers, pulling them away from her core and revealing the wet and glistening folds between her legs.

"you really are desperate for me, hm?"

she nods and her attention reverts back to him when she feels his weight adjust above her, his knees propping her legs open so he had access to tease her entrance with the tip of his cock.

with a deliberate thrust, he sank into her and filled her completely, enticing a stunned gasp from deep within her. pleasure coursing through her as he stretched her in ways she had felt before but would never get over - it was thrilling for her, knowing he had the same effect on her like he did the first time they shared a intimate evening together. they moved together, a rhythm building between them as her hips bucked up every time he gave her a thrust, each one sending waves of ecstasy through her body. toes curling, fingers gripping at the material of his blazer, knees tensing around him in an attempt to have him go deeper.

they were lost in each other. the chaos of london outside his window fading away as they surrendered to the pleasure that had overtaken their bodies as he continued to thrust, each movement sending her closer and closer to the edge.

“don't stop,” she gasps out, her breath coming in quick bursts, "don't you dare."

he responded with fierce intensity, their bodies continuing to move together in perfect harmony, the heat between them becoming thick and palpable, a fire that threatened to consume them both.

and as they reached the peak of their pleasure, she cried out loud, her body quaking in ecstasy as she fell over the edge without a care in the world on who could hear her. the world around her exploding in a blur of sensations, her body arching and trembling as she gave in to the white hot ball of pure electricity that erupted in her belly.

arthur followed closely behind with his own release. his own moans filling the air and mixing with her purrs of pleasure once she'd hit the high, his body falling beside her in the aftermath of their passion. breathless and satisfied.

"that was amazing," she whispers hoarsely, feet flat against the floor as her back stayed flat against the mattress, "i don't know what came over me then, i'm so sor-."

"don't even think about apologising," he turns his head to face her and she can see sweat clinging to his forehead and his eyes watering so slightly at the corners, "that was incredible. i might have to come home wearing suits more often."

"i don't even know if it was the suit, the colour, the fact i missed you a lot today," she shrugs, "whatever it was, i hope it never disappears."

silence swallows the both of them, their heavy breathing being the only sounds to fill the quiet of the room, his fingertips brushing over hers as they laid together on the edge of the bed.

"reckon we should get cleaned up?"

she nods, "can we have a bath though? i don't know if i can stand."

"i did you that good, huh?"

[cafeleningrad]

Mel was so perfectly emblematic for Piltover's issues as well as it's potentials, that her storyline collapsed the moment the writers chose to abandon the central conflict of class warfare for... the militaristic a idea that the real comradery lies in beating up a common enemy.

Every character in season 1 was so well written since they were tied to that conflict. From the trauma on the children growing up in Zaun getting brutalized by Piltover forces one way or another, Jayce's naivety and lack of understanding straying away from the utilitarian vision her shared with Viktor, etc. Mel herself presents a delightfully complex position: She's an outsider. Piltover his her exileground to prove her mother wrong in every way: Diplomacy, information, negotiation, and human creation (which Zaun and Piltover both stand for as "city of progress" and what makes Piltover so unique and prosperous) are actually as good, if not better to built and keep a functional society intact. And as we see in her flashback, she's genuinely merciful, and to some extend trusting in the captured princess to overcome conflict, and finding peaceful compromise. Mel might seem poised but she's also kind, and does believe in the potential of people working together towards a better future. (Hint, hint, Piltover and Zaun ideals into which she fits in, even as an outisder. Her personality and values are directly opposed to Ambessa's mercilessness, and black and white thinking of victor towering over crushed opponent. Mel thinks there're more possibilities than Ambessa's very narrow and brutal methods.

After all, it's Mel who's one of the first who sees the positive potential in Hextec. Even though Piltover is a strategical ground for her, this place, it's growth, and peace being maintained are serious to her.

She's certainly not flawless. She instigates Heimerdinger's expulsion from the council in a long game. Progress at any cost, with no consideration of it's consequences. Why would Mel be this reckless? Because as Mel's background informs her biggest asset of political saviness and social capital to start in Piltover form a high political position, she was raised a princess, the next heir to Ambessa after Kino. She neither knows not is is really interested in life in Zaun, as it's shown in her mostly ignoring Viktor when they converse. The material and social disparity between Zaun and Piltover are a massive blindspot of hers until the conflict becomes impossible to ignore. To a degree Mel is in the same position as she was in Noxus. Again she's part of the leader ship of a force that is oppressing another region with material and military means. But this time, along with the fact that she knows how to play the council into agreeing with her ideas, she is in the role of leadership to apply her methods. In a way, she can afford diplomacy as a method as she's wealthy, and -in case of need- secured by the Enforcers, and she isn't under the same pressure of health, and daily worries as many Zaunites are. Granted there're a lot of factors she can't control like Silco's agenda, or vital information about Zaun have long been held under cover.

Mel's journey was to expand her views towards those she wants to make peace via her methods. Having her understand the plight of Zaun, navigating a conflict in which she would avoid using Piltover's military force at any cost would've been so deeply interesting. Mel proving Ambessa wrong by presenting a leadership with mercy and value for the lives of others would've been a truly impressive achievement.

Heck, she even takes off her Noxus ring when voting for Zaun's independence as symbol how she wants to leave it's ideology and values behind. She doesn't care about the worthiness for the Medarda name anymore. Mel becoming a fighter in S02 (pardon, mage, but it's actually combat skills with golden laser beams), and being told to be a wolf is betraying all the best qualities and goals Mel presented.

My problem with Mel’s arc is that it focuses on defeating Ambessa (in combat) rather than politics. Ambessa was not who Mel needed to physically defeat, but someone she needed to ideologically defeat. And we don’t see any of that. By the time Ambessa calls Mel “the wolf” it’s hollow, because it’s about Mel being a more powerful combatant than a wise ruler. In this moment, her “foxness” is about how she figured out the “deception” of the Black Rose and not how she outmaneuvered her mother politically. Perhaps it would be epic if we knew what the fuck she meant by “I see your face deceiver!” and then super sayan-ing out of nowhere. Her not having mercy on her mother is about being a Medarda, a question that wasn’t the focus of season 1, merely a catalyst. Becoming a Medarda was the goal Mel had, not the need. She needed to learn how to rule. Instead, she learns how to kill. And then she’s off to her home in Noxus as more of a soldier and spy than a queen. 

Which likely means two things:

-S2 got bored of Mel and just gave her cool reflective powers to make up for it. Making every interesting development about her character happen off-screen, in the writers room, or on another show.

-S2 was deliberately trying to communicate that it sided with Ambessa. That violence and combat, war, is not merely a failure of state craft, but necessary or inevitable to political growth. That militarism is the only thing that can answer militarism. That the only way to ensure the progress you make is secure is arming yourself. Even though this topic has some grey areas, Arcane explicitly picks a side by narratively using Ambessa to justify Piltover’s weaponization of hextech.

i know fandom has a lot to say about Mel being a “strong-black woman” character, but as a black woman myself, I hated how they stripped her of what made her such a strong, enigmatic presence in S1. Her prowess, her wit and cleverness. Her sheer intellectual power made her so FORMIDABLE.

She’s just a lost, hurt uwu little puppy for most of S2 before she’s given her US government assigned Avengers superhero uniform.

I miss when Mel hated her mother and knew she couldn’t plead with her like an adult. Mel in Act I was already using Lest to spy and we almost got a good story then—POOF!—Black Rose.

If I was to give my entire review for Arcane in one sentence it would be this: What was the point?

[ghouljams]

Ok, just wanna say that I love your Hephaetus!Nikto.

Just a few things I’d like to say about Aphrodite. Love the way you have them written, I am in no way trying to make you change your interpretation of them.

She is one of the oldest gods along side Poseidon. Their lore dates back way before Ancient Greece and yet Aphrodite still predates him. Aphrodite is not just a soft thing. She started the Trojan war dammit. And she’s been associated with War as well, and not just in the sense that she has a relationship with Ares but of herself (then again haven’t done much research on this part so I could be wrong).

And Aphrodite is of the sea. The sea is no tame thing. It is wild. She is the Goddess of love and beauty and I’m getting a little pissed at Nikto for thinking she wouldn’t find him beautiful when it is her literal job to see the beauty in everything. Like come on dudeeee!!!!

I think the way you wrote him also pairs kinda well with the way you have the other Olympians view Aphrodite!Reader. I’d wonder if Aphrodite!Reader will ever snap on them and show them what it means to be the goddess of love and beauty.

Also fun fact, the ancient Greeks had multiple names for love that all had different meanings. I personally don’t know them all, but from what I recall, Eros is what they call romantic love.

Sorry for blabbing on, you don’t have to respond to this at all, just wanted to vent a little.

Oh no you're fine venting, I think a lot of people often think of Aphrodite in a specific way (pretty goddess of love who just cheats on her husband and is vindictive all the time) and here's what I will say regarding the way I'm writing Aphrodite!Reader:

Neither the reader nor Nikto is a reliable narrator.

Aphrodite sees herself as this wonderful loving force but she still walks the battlefield, taking trophies as often as she takes lives. She views herself as innocent in all of this drama and rumors, but she's done nothing to stop them(It's nice having Ares talk about how beautiful and good in bed she is, y'know?) She loves Nikto but she also treats him a bit like a curiosity, waiting for him to come to her because, well, everyone does eventually.

And Nikto is stuck in his vision of being cast aside by the gods. He's trapped in their mockery of him, why wouldn't he assume his unwilling wife, who begged to be kept a virgin goddess right before their wedding, doesn't like him? Aphrodite forces their way into his life, into his space, disrespecting any boundaries he tries to put up, of course he's wary of them. But at the same time Nikto only sees the parts of Aphrodite that they want him to see, the soft, the gentle, the loving with sweet voices and stroking fingers, so of course he thinks they're a bad fit. He's every bit her opposite.

The Trojan war has yet to happen in the timeline of the hephaestus!Nikto anthology, but I keep thinking about it because it will feel very out of character for Aphrodite to start a war over something as petty as vanity, but that's only because we've been seeing her through her own eyes.

Also I will say I think a lot of my softening of Aphrodite comes from my disbelief at the way goddesses act within Greek mythology. You're telling me every single goddess is vain and jealous, that they can't keep their man from cheating on them, that the Goddess of love can't find anything to love in her husband, that Artemis would turn her back on her desire to remain a virgin because one guy looked at her the right way? Like the way that the goddesses are depicted just reeks of misogyny and that particular brand of ancient Greek hatred for women. IDK So excuse me for making Aphrodite a little out of character from the myths in my attempt to give her the benefit of the doubt where no man ever did.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 122 (The Elusive Rafa Bonilla)

"Conrad? Conrad wake up! Oh man, I'm so sorry, please wake up..."

Slowly, Conrad's eyes adjusted to the torchlit room, which smelled like seawater and wet wood. Coarse grains of sand scratched against the back of his head. His blurred vision subsided as he blinked dust from his eyelashes. Rafa knelt over him pleadingly, gently lifting his head. "Wh-where am I?"

"Inside the abandoned ship. I brought you down here when I realized it's really you. I've been waiting for you to wake up for a while."

"How long was I out?"

Rafa shrugged. "The sun will be up soon."

Conrad struggled to push himself up and Rafa reached out a hand to help him. "I need to call Heather."

Rafa nodded. "Your phone rang a bunch of times," he admitted. "I turned it off after a while."

The place was half full of sand and the wood beams were falling apart. He looked at Rafa, all grown up, instinctively leaning in for a hug. Even though he'd knocked him out and was a lot bigger than the boy he remembered, Conrad couldn't believe he killed the Brindletons.

"Why are you out here?"

"I don't have to pay rent, and if anyone comes around to play on the old mast, I padlock the door or hide out in the caves."

"When was the last time you checked in to work?"

"Couple days ago. I tried to get in to the villa but I couldn't. Figured maybe the old man and his wife had gone home and no one told me."

Conrad frowned. "Oliana Ngata said you have a key. You didn't go inside? Take your shoes off, find George, maybe step in the blood under June Brindleton's bed, then clean yourself off in the master bathroom and run?"

Rafa tried to protest, but the look in his eyes told Conrad he was on the right track. It was the same guilty look he used to give when he tried to say his homework was done because he just wanted to play video games.

"I didn't kill them, I swear, and those aren't my footprints. I saw a couple guys jump off the villa balcony and swim off, but I didn't see which way they went. I found the Brindletons dead and got scared. I've been ignoring Oliana's calls for days. She owes me a week's pay, but she can keep it. I'll figure it out, but I'm not going down for murder. I never killed anyone."

"The other stuff you've been into isn't great, Rafa. San Myshuno PD would love to toss the book at you just to close the cases they've got with your name on them."

"I know that. I don't want to go to prison. I never wanted to run any of the drugs I ran, and I didn't start that fire. Jimmy's a pyro freak and I tried to put it out. Cops said I was fanning the flames but that's crap, Conrad. I swear."

"Jimmy's dead, Rafa."

The young man's face fell. "How?"

"I think your sister ordered the hit to get my attention. I've been looking for you for years."

"To bring me in?"

"Look...you knew me before I was a cop, and I don't want to bring you in, but I've got a family and Ximena's trying to take me down. We finally got her in handcuffs and behind bars, but we need to prove she was involved in Jimmy's murder or she could walk. Right now all we've got her on is rental fraud, but you might be able to plead down your own sentence if you're willing to give intel on Ximena."

"I don't know anything about Jimmy's death." Rafa scoffed. "I don't want to talk to my sister, but you know what she did for me, getting us out of Selva when she did."

"And then what? She dragged you into a life working for the cartel, anyway. You could give her stories away, Rafa. Separate her from the cartel, paint her for who she is and what she dragged you into. Forget Jimmy's murder for a minute. Let them see your involvement in your own crimes was under pressure from your sister."

"I always wanted to get out, but Ximena needed me."

"She doesn't need you now."

"If I turn on her, she'll turn on me. I don't know what you want me to do, but I just want to live in peace out here. I want to turn this place into a cool SimBnB or something. Renovate it, you know? Maybe I could have more than one, eventually. I just want to live out my life far away from any cartels. Far away from Ximena. If I go back, I'll go to prison just like her."

"Rafa, I'll do anything I can to help you stay out of prison whether you help me or not. I'll talk to lawyers, judges, find you the right advice. I can't promise a plea deal without jail time, but I can try."

Rafa shook his head. "No. I'm sorry, I can't help you. Ximena was always there for me, and you left! As Javier Vargas, I could recognize the guys in a lineup if you find suspects for the Brindletons' murder, but I can't bring down my sister. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry I left. I had to, but you're the closest thing to a little brother I'd ever had. It was a lot harder to leave you than it was to leave her." Conrad frowned, shifting a little on his feet. "You're really staying here? In an old shipwreck?"

"I miss electricity and haven't played a video game in years, but this is a good place to hide out. It's not open to the public because it's not structurally sound, but no one ever comes down here. If I can get the place fixed up enough for a rental, it'll be much better. A lot less sand."

"And you're not worried I'll send police to arrest you?"

"You'd have me arrested because I won't help you?"

"It's not just me she's after, Rafa. Heather and I are getting married, and we have a daughter; she's almost three. And I love Heather's son like he's my own. He's the same age now that you were when I met you, but I've known him so long...you and Melissa were still together when I met him."

"Don't talk about Mel. She's not involved in any of this. She never was, and she's better off without me."

Conrad's stomach growled. He hadn't eaten since yesterday. "Got any food?" he wondered, as much for himself as he was worried about Rafa.

The young man pointed him in the direction of his small, off-grid kitchen. "There's enough ice in the icebox to keep a few things cool. You can have some yogurt if you want."

Conrad took him up on the offer and considered his next move while he devoured a bowl of coconut yogurt and looked around the dismal digs. Rafa had a bed, a table, the tiny kitchen, and a hole in the ground for a bathroom. He was living far worse than Conrad ever did in his dated old apartment in the city.

Rafa might be Ximena's sole weak point and he had to exploit it, but Conrad wouldn't be able to live with himself if he exploited Rafa, too. He needed him to want to help, but had no idea how to change his mind.

He turned his phone back on and the device started beeping with notifications - multiple missed calls, texts, and voicemails. He sighed. The best he could do for now was keep Rafa's secret and hope he'd flip. He had to fly back to the mainland...after his impulsive neatness made him clean up a bit of dirt and sand near the small kitchen sink - which didn't even dispense water.

Conrad needed to check in with Heather and with work, and open a new investigation into the death of George and June Brindleton. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

WCIF: Conrad on the floor and Rafa bent over him is another from @yibsimchronicles' Fainted posepack, and probably my favourite pose in the collection!

[sleeplesssmoll]

New Arcana Idea to play with. Constantine included.

Arcana returns, but she's significantly weaker than before. At first she is welcome back at Manus, however there is infighting and politics now spreading throughout the order. Without Arcana as the head, Manus fractured into different smaller factions who all have different theories on how to reach their goal.

Arcana wants to retake control of Manus but in her current state she is unable to reign them in. They decide they don't need her anymore. Some also feel like Arcana's sight of her real goal since she met the Timekeeper.

With nowhere else to go, she pops up in the Suitcase. She wants to strike an alliance to take down the current leaders of Manus and start over. Vertin has no intention of letting Arcana continue her reign of terror, but she begrudgingly sees use for Arcana.

So Arcana ends up in the Suitcase but like Isolde she is not allowed to leave freely.

The only person Constantine can't stand more than Vertin is Arcana. The two are always talking in circles around each other and playing mind games. Vertin is highly amused by this until she inevitably gets dragged into it as Constantine's proudest creation and Arcana's greatest obsession.

Honestly the mind games go nowhere. They go off on tangents often since it's more about winning than reasoning. Arcana doesn't give a damn but Constantine is simmering inside because she has no idea what the hell is going on in Arcana's head.

Interestingly, Arcana is one of the few people to make Madam Z openly hostile. Granted it's still restrained but you can tell she wants Arcana nowhere near her baby.

In terms of teamwork, Arcana follows Vertin's orders without question but then suddenly pull a monkey's paw. As in, Vertin will tell her to do something and she'll get it done in the worst possible way. When Arcana's feeling cooperative, they are a terrifying duo.

It's a cycle of people using each other to reach a common goal. I feel like we can explore darker sides of the Timekeeper this way to. She's a sweetie, but she's able to manipulate and scheme just as much as Constantine and Arcana. She can see their train of thought even though she doesn't agree.

When she takes Arcana on missions she keeps in her line of sight at all times. She's afraid of what Arcana will do the moment she takes her eyes off her. Naturally, Arcana will sometimes vanish just to stress Vertin out and do the most mundane things like buy herself a drink or watch the birds in a nearby park. She hangs around and waits to see a frustrated Timekeeper chase after her.

This whole thing was created because I had a vision:

A miserable Vertin and a curious Arcana eating McDonald's in Constantine's office. Constantine is listening to Vertin give her a personal update on how their mission went. Constantine is there listening with her head in her hands and a Happy Meal on her desk.

The McDonald's was Vertin's idea. She was hungry. As much as she dislikes Arcana, she won't let people under her go hungry either. Arcana's never had McDonald's before so this is new to her. She's examining her nuggets and a VERY tired Vertin is opening the sauce to show her how to eat them.

The Happy Meal was bought for Constantine to "cheer her up" because the mission was a disaster and Vertin had to share the news. Essentially she's just screwing with Constantine because that's the only silver lining in the whole ordeal.

[gods-favorite-autistic]

Selkie Fabian with selkie Hallariel au you see the vision

Bill accidentally stole Hallariels pelt while he was pillaging in Fallinel and Hallariel fucking hunted him down

Bill fell in love the second she took his eye out but Hallariel only married him because he promised her a life of freedom and adventure on the sea something she’d never had before and she fell in love with him along the way

Telemaine was extremely protective of his daughter because he knew that like a half elf half selkie wouldn’t be very well received in Fallinel so she always hid her selkie-ness up until she left and stopped giving a shit about what Kei Lumennura thought

Part of why she left was because Telemaine refused to let her near the sea (he insisted that her mother learned to live without the sea to keep herself safe so she could too) but he finally caved after Bill stole her pelt because “I’m in danger either way at least I’m not miserable at sea”

She planned on only marrying Bill for a few years before going back home until she actually fell in love and then got pregnant

Fabian was allowed a lot more freedom than Hallariel had growing up but he was still told a bunch of horror stories about selkies getting their pelts stolen so he is very protective of his pelt

Like so protective that the Bad Kids didn’t even find out until like halfway through sophomore year (he only told them because Riz jokingly tried it on when they were all hanging out and Fabian snatched it away in a panic)

The main reason they have as big of a pool as they do is because Hallariel insisted on having someplace her and Fabian could shift

Fabian still misses the ocean terribly and travels down there on weekends he can get away

When Kalvaxus set their houses on fire he had to stop himself from running to check his room and find his pelt because his parents were in danger

When he got home after prom Cathilda immediately handed his pelt to him because she knew he’d be panicking about it

Cathilda knows about Fabian being a selkie (of course she does she practically raised him) but he didn’t realize she knew until he was about 12 (he thought he was being sneaky) so it became sort of a game for her to see how much she could tease him about it before he realized she knew

She insists on washing his pelt because he insists on storing it with the rest of his clothes and she doesn’t want it to get dirty (she always framed it as something similar to giving his selkie form a shower) but she has a rigorous washing process that she insists on doing every time despite it taking like an hour each time

The first week after she gets sober Hallariel takes Fabian down to the beach and gets in the ocean for the first time since she had him

Before Fabian she always insisted she would not become some trophy piece lying around Bill Seacasters house like most of the selkies she’d heard about who married pirates (and the she had Fabian and then…yeah)

Fabian and Mazey have a tendency to borrow each others clothes and it’s all great fun until Mazey takes his pelt without realizing thinking it’s just a regular coat (he is scared to death of telling anyone he’s romantically involved with that he’s a selkie cause, y’know, horror stories) and he has a genuine panic attack when he can’t find it

About an hour after this happens Riz (who Fabian had asked to find the pelt) shows up at Mazey’s doorstep demanding the pelt back and Mazey is just so confused

Fabian finally tells her like a week later and she feels just so bad

Hallariel doesn’t fully trust the Bad Kids until she learns they know Fabian is a selkie

Gorgug starts joining Fabian on his late night oceanside trips after they all find out (he says it’s because it’s not safe for Fabian to be out there alone but it’s really because he just wants to hang out with his friend)

So so many beach trips with the party over summer after junior year (would’ve been sophomore but yknow night yor-*I am shot in the head but Riz Gukgak killing me instantly*)

Kristen challenges Fabian to an underwater breath holding contest and like just to freak them out he just kinda stays under for like 5 minutes

He can stay underwater for a while when he has his pelt but when he got possessed on Leviathan sophomore year he had to leave it behind and when he doesn’t have it he’s kinda shit at holding his breath naturally (he never trained it because he assumed he wouldn’t have to deal with being in the water without his pelt a lot but he started training it after that)

He has control over how much he shifts when he’s in the water with his pelt so unless it’s been like a while and he’s craving the ocean he’ll usually go for just like patches of seal fur along his body and occasionally he’ll let his feet turn partially tail-like if he feels like swimming a lot

The Bad Kids think his patchy form is just so adorable (he would be fully human around them since he’s still not fully comfortable with it but the halfway form is kind of the lowest he’s able to dial it when he has his pelt in the water)

Jawbone finds out partway through junior year (Adaine makes an off handed remark about Fabian’s pelt and he was just very confused) and once he finds out he immediately starts researching the shit out of selkies

He finds out that there’s a support group at Aguefort for selkie students and he gives Fabian the information

Fabian very reluctantly goes and actually enjoys it a lot (it’s less like a support group like it says and just kinda like a place for selkie students to hang out and bond with other selkies) so he keeps going weekly

They were all very skeptical of him when he first showed up (I mean the most popular kid in school who is also the son of a world renowned pirate showing up to a selkie hangout when nobody knows he’s a selkie feels like a red flag) but he brought his pelt with him just in case to make sure they knew he wasn’t an enemy

At first he has a bunch of people giving him pity because they assume Bill basically abducted his mom but he shuts that shit down quick (“if my papa tried to abduct my mama she would’ve taken out his other eye and slit his throat”)

They are all so jealous of the fact that he actually lived on the sea for most of his life (they have a monthly trip to the beach because most of them aren’t able to go out that much and a good majority of the people in Elmville have lived there all their lives or most of their lives)

Ok yeah that’s it for now I just got selkie Fabian in my head and couldn’t get it out

[indiestsnake]

okay. for real this time. Major In Stars and Time spoilers for act 3 and beyond. To my wonderful friends playing this masterpiece, to no further. To potential readers, buckle up. This gets long ._.

I thought this game was done with causing me symptoms of emotional exhaustion and stress overload. I was wrong.

Acts 5 and 6 of this game caused the most emotion a video game has ever inflicted on me. Like- the tightness in my chest was an emotion I can only describe as grief. Genuine grief. I felt like I needed to sob for most of act six, for multiple reasons.

Let’s start at the fuckin transition I guess!!!!!!!!!! Siffrin finally thinks they figured it out, and they haven’t. The genuine fear I felt in the cutscene with Euphrasie, the realization that… that this was it, Siffrin was simply stuck. I believed it. I could not find a way to break my suspension of disbelief. I fully, genuinely could not believe that this game had a happy ending. I did not know this game only had one ending, but even if I did, it… I don’t think it would’ve done anything.

The following monologue was the usual terrifying, the game using its informal dialogue to reap horrific subversive effects as usual. Of course it saved some tricks for this moment, like taking away control of when the dialogue progressed. Watching Siffrin snap so thoroughly, lose all his hope and cling to the thought of defeating the king alone because he doesn’t know what else to do, it… it really breaks you.

So. Now that the game has maximized my potential sympathy for Siffrin. And torn my empathetic heart to shreds. It immediately turns on a heel and makes me hate them within three conversations. The things they say to Mira, Odile, Bonnie, Isa, made me so thoroughly angry. I would not blame Odile for actually harming him. I would not blame Mira if she never spoke to him again. I would not blame Bonnie for never wanting to even think about him again. And I would not blame Isa if he no longer loved Siffrin.

I am a person who believes in redemption. In second chances. The readers of my fics know this well. But sadly, actions have to have consequences. And the actions Siffrin takes should have lost him his friends, his family, forever. Even in his circumstances. They had no reason to keep caring.

So then, reeling from the genuine sense of loss and grief and hate and despair, Siffrin nicks the orbs and goes in alone. Through about, what, 20-30 minutes of gameplay, this tension persists. The game didn’t even need to barrage me with monologues, just show those conversations of the family Siffrin left, tear apart the house and the menus and the game till it was barely recognizable. Siffrin. The Lost One, says his profile. Memory of emptiness. Rock, paper, scissors. It’s so dry. So dull. So full of despair and pain and fear and a question of what he could ever do to deserve this hell. He can’t go back. He cannot find the hope or will or anything to go through with it, to follow the script. So even if this does break the loop. What then? He is left with a world where the people he loves most despise him.

Then finally, he reaches the king.

The fight is almost dull. Simplistic. Full of pain. Siffrin does not need a shield to withstand the vision of the future. Because the world they live in cannot get any worse. Nothing scares him more than the hell he now exists in.

Then, he begins to freeze. The king slows him down. And he falls asleep.

The following sequence was just… indescribable. The sadness variant of him, Mal du Pays. French for “homesickness”. Just a simple drawing of Siffrin. The music. The dialogue. The words that come from its mouth. From the party’s mouths. Siffrin tries to say it’s fake. Isabeau’s segment convinces him it’s not.

I didn’t even realize what was happening till it flashed forward and gripped the screen by the face.

He was turning into a sadness.

The frame of his sadness gripping the screen, like many of ISAT’s frames, is something I can’t manage to forget. The cloak and the face and the way it fills the screen so suddenly and finally speaks as itself, not as Siffrin’s party. And he can’t fight it. They just can’t. The universe leads, but he is tired. And now, he can rest. If he just lets go.

In that moment, I was staring at a black screen, begging, pleading for the credits not to roll.

And then he wakes up.

Because his friends are back.

Despite what he said and did, they knew he didn’t mean it. And if he did, they didn’t care. It was clear something was wrong, and they were determined to fix it. Because they were his friends.

I don’t think I’ve ever had a game manage to convey self-hatred so convincingly that I, the player, began to hate my character in a way their friends could not. In fact, I was not aware that was a thing that could happen.

I don’t even know how to express the feelings this give me coherently. It feels like this game snatched away one of my closest moral beliefs only to clothesline me with said belief so I learned it even harder. What Siffrin did was not unforgivable. But it truly convinced me that it was.

So of that when all hope seemed truly, truly lost. It pulled the basic trope of “your friends come help when you thought you were alone”. And it nearly knocked me out of my chair.

First off, get fucked king. Second off, happy for you king.

And then the walk to Euphrasie. I was mixed with giddy glee and unending dread for this whole thing. Isa helps Sif walk while Bonnie holds their hand. Color exists again but only red and oh god the world is ending. Euphrasie is still broken oh god please no don’t send me back don’t take this from me please no no no no WAM REVERSE BOSS FIGHT

Cue that scene. I wasn’t exactly happy that my only option aside from hurting my friends was hurting myself. But it did not take long for me to start groaning in annoyance when Mira healed me.

And then. Against all odds. Siffrin breaks. As does the text formatting as the party literally claws at the text box edges to yell at him.

They fall. Hands clasped together. And he tells them his wish. That he just wants to stay with them.

Of course. That’s all he ever wanted.

And oh god, oh thank every deity, that’s all they want too.

And he finally gets a god-damn motherfucking son of a bitch eye-losing tear-jerking MOTHER FUCKING HUG

and damn it was a good one. poor guy was all squimshed. lost his hat too

the rest of the dialogue is just. amazing. I was gigging and smiling and shaking and vibrating with joy before I even finished Mirabelle’s segment. Walking to Bonnie was when I realized it felt like I wanted to cry. During Bonnie’s dialogue was when I almost did cry. Then Odile. Who I obviously asked for the long version of her theory and she was very helpful for explaining all the stuff. and then.

Isabeau.

oh. my. fucking. god.

the joy I felt when he said it. The leap I leapt, ungracefully dancing over to my bed and mouthing screams of joy. I genuinely just collapsed and writhed around like a fish out of water in happiness. You know how some folk flap their hands to stim? Yeah, imagine that but my whole body. I was so unbelievably happy. I don’t know how a game did this much to me.

The rest of the dialogue was wonderful too. Sif apologized for everything, even the optional events, even admitted the bad touch event. And of course. Isa freaked the fuck out. Because oh my god Sif kissed him. And then when Sif clarifies that it was not a good kiss. He just thinks for a moment like. “…………. Maybe u just need more practice!!! ^^” and it was at that point Siffrin and Isabeau plushies manifested in my hands and I mashed their faces together like barbie dolls

Mira doesn’t want self-spoilers and thats hilarious. Bonnie has no fucken clue what’s going on but she knows Sif was hungry sick and at school so all is well. Odile admits she linguine’s him and yes I fucking love that joke. SIF’S HOME COUNTRY MIFHT APPEAR IN THE DISTANCE????? AND ISA AND SIF ARE GOING ON A FUCKING DATE

and it was at this point I saved my progress, crossed my heart, and prayed Euphrasie would not send me back.

And she didn’t.

oh, god, this game…

welp. this post is two hours in the making. dunno if any of this is coherent but I think if you’ve played isat you get it. thank you to everyone who’s been blowing up my liveposts recently!!! it’s been cool to see the fandom giggle evilly at my suffering :3

tho my contributions to the Isat fandom do not end here. the fic is imminent. I could not stop it if I wanted too. If you couldn’t tell by the essay you just read.

thank you for reading this far if you somehow did!!!! hope you enjoyed my nonsensical babbling. I’m gonna go pass out. have a good day!!!!!!! .3

[venomwrites]

Despite the fluff this is a ficlet written purely because I 100% believe Vi would leave lipstick prints on Caitlyn before Caitlyn would leave them on Vi. Also on Ao3

“Violet.”

Vi is caught off guard enough at the sight of Tobias standing in the doorframe. The two of them have a fragile sort of truce going. One she’s happy to keep going. It’s centered around Caitlyn, who needs them both. Usually when he comes to get her, it’s for something Caitlyn needs. Tobias looks at her with that tight, sad expression he always makes. Vi is stunned he doesn’t ask her about her intentions with Caitlyn. But she guesses it’s pretty clear what those are since she’s here. She’s given up the expectation he’s going to tell her to get out again. It’s become clear that he actually didn’t have the right to do anything more than question her presence. The house isn’t his. It’s Caitlyn’s. But he doesn’t ask anymore, he just nods when she helps Caitlyn in a way he can’t and she does the same when the tables are turned. But now it’s just the two of them staring at each other. 

“There’s talk of rationing electricity,” he says, “we need to preserve the candles.”

Heat creeps up her neck but she refuses to give into it. She opens her mouth to point out the rations definitely wouldn’t apply to the Kirammans. And besides she’s been rationing candles for seven years. She knows how to get soot from her eyes and not ruin them. When they start rationing matches they can talk. Tobias’s throat works and then he shoves a bag at her. 

“Cassandra always kept a supply. Caitlyn needs something more specialized now,” when she doesn’t move he puts it in her fingers, “goodnight.”

Then he vanishes as quickly as he came leaving Vi standing there with a bag, a blush and not much of an idea of what to do with either. Behind her there’s a shift of weight as Caitlyn tries to see what’s happening. She’s condemned to the right side of the bed where the IV hook was already set up from Vi’s own time there. But that puts most of the room out of her field of vision unless she turns her head. It’s uncomfortable on the best days right now so Vi tries to do everything in her field of vision. She walks over to where Caitlyn is laying and watches something flicker in her visible eye at the sight of the bag. 

“Your dad—“ Vi says holding it up, “said it was your moms.”

Caitlyn offers an almost mischievous curve of her lips and Vi looks down to see the bag is full of that fancy tissue paper stores up here use. Caitlyn taps the side of the bed and Vi walks over. Of all the injuries, the jaw might be the worst for Caitlyn. Vi looks over at the pad as she scribbles what the wires won’t allow her to say. 

Sorry. Didn’t think you’d take it otherwise. 

Vi shakes her head at the apology. Only Caitlyn would feel the need to apologize for something like this. She nods and Vi moves away the paper. Inside are a ton of small boxes. She’s quickly learning nothing in Piltover just comes in its natural state. Especially not stuff you buy. Caitlyn is looking hopeful so Vi tries to smile and tips one of the boxes into her hand. She has a feeling she knows what it is. The candle scolding was kind of a give-away. She braces the black box against her casted arm and slips her thumb under the top flap. There’s a sticker on the bottom of a pinkish red that makes Vi’s heart skip even though it shouldn’t. The world ended. This seems so irrelevant. But her fingers in the cast itch as she tips the container over and the silvery tube spills out. It’s heavy with a band of gold denoting the seam. When she pushes with her thumb, it slides up to reveal a bullet of color. 

One of us needs two eyes.

Vi laughs. The sound strange after all the grief in this room. But it’s the first joke she’s seen on the pages and when she looks back, Caitlyn actually looks pleased. She nudges the bag closer and even though Vi wants to say one is enough. That she doesn’t even need one, she doesn’t want to do anything to take away the pleased look on Caitlyn’s face. Caitlyn motions for the bag and extracts a black case that expands like magic. There are hooks for a mirror, but someone has thought to tuck it away. She opens box after box until the bag is full of them and the case is full of tubes and compacts. Vi wonders if there are any cosmetics left in Piltover, but she’s learned there is always more up here. These are hers. It’s a dizzying array of colors, ones that exist in paintings. Not ones you cobble together out of whatever pigments you can find. The feeling in her chest is strange as she looks at them. Not bad, but not one she’s used to. 

“Thanks, Cupcake,” she says touching the tubes. She goes to close the case but Caitlyn stops her. Strokes her thumb across Vi’s knuckle and looks at the case, “later,” Vi promises. 

Caitlyn gives her a look that needs no words and with more strength than Vi thought she had, she tugs the case towards her hip. Vi watches as she flips it open. Her fingers move towards the mirror and Vi darts forward. They’e not there yet. Caitlyn’s not there yet. But she’ll put herself through it to help Vi. And Vi can’t stand the thought. She tries for something confident as she looks back at the endless array of tubes. 

“Come on, Cupcake, you think we had mirrors in Stillwater?” She says, “I could do this blindfolded.”

Caitlyn gives her a half exasperated look as Vi looks between a forgiving nude and a deep berry. Opting for the latter she thumbs the tube open and glides the color along her lips. She’s known she could do it blindfolded, but there’s still something satisfying about running her thumb under her lip and it coming away clean.

“What do you think?” She asks. 

Beautiful.

The word stings but Vi lets it. The lipstick feels nice against her lips. Better than anything she’s come up with. Definitely better than the greasepaint she was using in the pits. Her lips feel softer than they have in a long time. It’s strange to think that in the life ahead of her, they can be soft and colored whenever she wants. Without her having to barter or decide what she’s willing to sacrifice for a bit of comfort and autonomy. It’s just there. She doesn’t know how to voice that in a way that doesn’t make her sound insane. Or, worse, would make Caitlyn try to push herself to help Vi feel better. It’s a good feeling. Jus not one she’s used to. But Caitlyn is Caitlyn, so Vi is only mildly surprised when a tissue is handed to her and the notepad comes into view. 

Another?

“Oh I see,” Vi says, “you just want a preview for when we’re both better.”

Caitlyn flashes the thumbs down that means no but Vi ignores the insidious voice that says she’s being honest. Vi waves her away and Caitlyn frowns. Vi gets it, she has no idea how any of this will work when they’re more whole. It should be the last thing either of them are thinking about. But she wants to figure that out with Caitlyn. She wants to figure out a lot of things with her. Maybe it’s not fair to put that on her, on their bond, but in her worst moments when she can’t hug Caitlyn it’s the only bright spot that keeps her going. Caitlyn still looks a bit perturbed but it’s in that fond way she seems to reserve for Vi. So Vi finds the darkest color she can and draws it across her lips. Caitlyn swallows but her eye focuses only on the dark bruise of Vi’s lips. 

“Too oil slick?” Vi offers. 

It takes Caitlyn a moment to respond.

Thumbs down. 

No.

Caitlyn taps on the paper. 

Beautiful.

“You can’t say that with every one,” Vi says, “then you’re just being—“

Hot

Vi swallows the word nice as Caitlyn holds the pad up. She’s not as pale as she was, but the flush of color on her cheekbones still makes something warm start in Vi’s belly. Fortunately the smart little case has several pockets in the lid. Vi takes the tube and tucks it into one of them. By the end of the night it’s joined by a nude rose color and a berry tone. Caitlyn falls asleep with a faint smile on her lips as Vi looks down at the case in her hands. It’s hard to wrap her head around it. There’s a dark part of her that points out the frivolousness of the products. How the money could be better spent elsewhere. How no lipstick was going to remove the cast from her arm or bring back anything she had lost. But the rest of her feels something much closer to happiness. Something like when she woke up wrapped in Caitlyn’s embrace before they both fell apart. When she kissed her and Caitlyn kissed back. This was orchestrated by her, but there’s something profoundly selfish in the tubes laid out in front of her. 

They are just for her. 

Even though it’s late, Vi finds herself rifling through for one of the longer sticks. She eases the cap off and drags it across her eyes. She uses the edge of a finger to find the places she wants the pigment to go and then drags it along her waterline. That part is always the easiest. She figured it out first, taught by another prisoner who showed her how to make sure things were clean enough. The pigments now glide smoothly along her flesh, so smoothly she nearly jams the point into the side of her nose. She drags the line across the other with more care. The usual stinging is lessened by the quality of what she’s been given. But it makes her feel better when she presses her eyes shut and feels the slight tack as the lines come together. 

Before she can overthink, her fingers flip open one of the compacts. 

It’s an odd thing to be excited by your own face. To be excited you recognize your own face. She feels impossibly different, but she knows the features that look back at her. More importantly she sees the choice on her face. She’s chosen what to put on her eyes. What color to make her lips. That was the advice of the other prisoner who showed her the matches. The world would take most of your choices, but if you could choose what you put on your face it was a good day. This feels like the start of one. Somehow it feels easier to crawl up to the pillows and lay down next to Caitlyn. There’s a pillow between them to help Caitlyn sleep straight, but her hand usually drapes on it. An invitation Vi hasn’t known how to respond to. This time she picks up Caitlyn’s hand and brings it to her lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. 

When she wakes, Caitlyn is smiling at the back of her hand in a way that sends a warm feeling though Vi’s core. She keeps her breathing even and closes her eyes as Caitlyn very carefully puts her hand back on top of hers. When she truly wakes up, it’s time for bandages changes, liquified breakfasts and all the things that keep them going. Well, mostly keep Caitlyn going. After the latest bandage change Caitlyn goes distant, like usual. But unlike usual, Vi has an idea of how to reach her. She fiddles with the darker tube before swiping it across her lips, picking up Caitlyn’s hand and pressing them to it. It shocks Caitlyn out of her stupor as Vi considers the lip print. Caitlyn stares at her, eyes wide. Vi rifles though the case and picks a different tube. She paints her lips and then presses them to the base of Caitlyn’s thumb. Caitlyn swallows tightly as their gazes lock. Vi nods towards the notepad and Caitlyn gives the barest shake of her head. So Vi picks up another tube and this time kisses her fingertips, brushing something pink and sweet to them. 

By the time she’s done she has no idea what color her lips might be, but Caitlyn’s hand is covered in color. Everything except red. She can guess there’s enough red in Caitlyn’s head when she looks at her hand. So Vi kisses every other color there instead. When she lets Caitlyn’s hand go, Caitlyn brings it against her chest and cradles it close. There’s no scribbled note, but there doesn’t need to be. The soft look on Caitlyn’s face tells Vi everything she needs. And for the first time in a while, Vi feels like she can hear it. 

So she keeps it up. 

Sometimes just the one. 

Sometimes the whole rainbow. 

But there is always a print somewhere on Caitlyn’s hand. It seems to make things better in a way Vi can’t quite explain. But it’s working, so she doesn’t care about anything else. Even though it’s the longest few weeks, it’s still hard to wrap her head around helping Caitlyn into a paper bonnet so her jaw can be freed. They can’t jostle anything else so they want her to be out. She looks at Vi who smiles encouragingly and presses a kiss to her knuckles. Caitlyn pulls her hand to her chest and nods, relaxing as they take her away. Vi sits with her after. Her face is still puffy, but when she shifts her head and her lips part, Vi can see her tongue move. 

“Hey,” she whispers, coaxing Caitlyn back into the waking world. Caitlyn looks at her hazily and smiles.

“Beautiful,” she whispers, sleepily raising her hand to inspect her clean skin. A soft thing she would hate to call a pout comes across her lips, “Vi?”

She has to be gentle as fuck, but Vi leans over and finally gets to brush their lips together. Caitlyn inhales softly into the kiss, her hand steadying Vi’s cheek. When she pulls back, she touches her fingertips to her lip and smiles at the pigment that clings to them. 

“I was hoping you’d do that,” she murmurs but still holds up her knuckles. 

Vi is only too happy to press a kiss there as well.

[lillytalons]

ADOLIN & MAYA

Apparently I have a ton to say about Adolin and Maya from Wind and Truth.

Spoilers Ahead!! 

Maya getting the deadeyes is like the greatest payoff of finding out about them existing all over Shadesmar and specifically the lost deadeyes on the bottom of the ocean who I had assumed had to have the eternal tragedy of being ‘dead’ and lost forever. The spren coming back to more real life with the reversal of the broken oath to Ba Ado Mishram is just so great. I should remember, there’s pretty much always payoff with Sanderson, even if it takes a while. 

Also the suit up moment had me jumping and celebrating it was just so beyond good. 

Honestly, Adolin potentially living forever without his leg is a cool concept, like the shardplates adjusting for him showing that past radiants didn’t have all their limbs was great but not it also sets Adolin apart again because so many of the radiants would be able to heal themselves, not all obviously but most. I’m excited to explore it in the future.

He got his plate through inheritance and who knows exactly which dead spren it’s made of, but I’d like to think fate was involved. The Plate starting to respond to him like Maya originally did was just beyond amazing. We haven’t seen a lot of differences in living plate yet since we have a small sample size, but so far we know that wind spren can move to others at a drop, and creation spren seem to have a lot more flexibility with form (though that could just be because Shallan thought to ask for it), but the chances that his plates are from the pair with cultivation spren isn’t great. Honestly with the movement and permission, so far I’d say wind Spren but maybe we’ll get that answer eventually. 

Maya being a soldier is just incredible, like she doesn’t seem to remember or mention healing or anything, but she knows war, and is the perfect match for Adolin. Having someone to talk to about everything and someone who really understands the kind of sacrifices he needs to make without a fight has got to be a major benefit for both of them. Most of the Spren now are learning everything from scratch, are very young comparatively, and have to slowly grow memories and the like. But Maya, while silent and relearning how to talk and interact, doesn’t have to be taught about complex ideas. Which is good since she’s basically thrown from talking again to one of the most important battlefields in Roshar’s history. There wasn’t time for ethics/people lessons like Syl and Kaladin had time for. 

Maya is so interesting because we mostly know new spren who have never been bonded and it seems like spren have been staying away from learning about fighting as a whole, their own cultures’ way to avoid the atrocities of the radiants. But the deadeyes have a lot of possible wisdom and such to offer, now that they can talk again. Plus, depending on how old Maya is, she could have been bonded to several soldiers, killed during recreances and bonded to a new one, if she was a solider she would have bonded again, so she understands death. As one of the shards found in an obvious place and protected and passed down, she could have been hooked to important radiants that were in the middle of the fighting. 

And I’m sure there are plenty of cultivation spren like Wyndle that don’t like fighting, wouldn’t have bonded to radiants if at all possible. So spren like Maya would have picked up the slack to keep fighting.

Not to mention, well no one really has stormlight right now, but the potential lessons the unoathed could teach to new and current radiants are huge! Yes the radiants are figuring out a lot and in some ways benefit from not actually having an instruction manual to limit their thinking, but gentle nudges if they’re missing important and useful ways to use lashings will be helpful. Until the heralds come back, or they find more records in Urithiru, the un-oathed are all they have (especially with the Stormfather and his habit of giving visions gone. Lucky Dalinar wrote it down before dying I guess)

Back to the discussion of fate, Adolin’s sword being a cultivation spren just makes sense. He’s barely connected to Honor and Odium, not bowing to the passions and disliking oaths more and more (Dalinar could have learned a bit from him), which means if he’s connected to any of the three shards, it’s Cultivation. And he does have the history of slowly but doggedly cultivating friendships, relationships, building people’s skills, heck even talking to his blade before every battle is much more a cultivation trait than anything else. Despite some of his impulsivity, he’s got an awful lot of patience that most of the characters don’t.

The potential powers for edgedancers are healing and friction. He almost was using friction during many of his fights, especially during his last fight, leaning into the movement of his peg and basically using moments of friction and movement like edgedancers do. He has a history of perfect footwork and movement in his duels. Even leaping and moving across the dome in an insane show of momentum proves my point. 

Then with the healing, he has more respect and understanding of both normal healers and mind healing than most. Beyond that, he’s a good tactician and all, but more and more he hates fighting, doesn’t even really want the duels, he feels very Eowyn coded, can and will fight to the end, but wants to be a healer and focus on growing things (maybe metaphorically). He heals Yawagawn emotionally by seeing he needed a friend and again building him and his skills up.

He remembers those that have been forgotten, whether a lonely boy emperor, a bridgeboy or a young girl who wants to fight, he treated his blade and plate as sentient years before it was even considered that they could be, before anyone knew anything about them, he was ensuring that they wouldn’t be lost forever, which also ties into listening to those who have been ignored. He wants people to be able to make their own decisions and not be beholden to others, whether through class lines or oaths, and it’s so good. He follows the soul of edgedancers and radiants without being beholden to oaths and Honor because he’s seen a lot of things can go wrong with that. And he was right! Beyond never abandoning Maya (which I loved him for) he’s now really free of the issue of Retribution.

And he helped save the only human kingdom to stay free of Odium! He’s just the best.

[rook-laidir]

Random Rook Banter 2: Electric Boogaloo

These are all made up by me!

Part 1

Harding: You seriously expect me to believe that you just so happened to have the exact cards you needed for every hand?

Rook: You’re really not letting this go, huh?

Harding: If I can prove you cheated, you have to give me my gold back.

Rook: How do you plan on doing that?

Harding: Neve’s on it.

Rook: …Shit.

~~~

Rook: Ok, let’s say I did cheat. How much would I owe you?

Harding: Forty gold.

Rook: Forty gold?!

Harding: I talked to some of Neve’s friends. They said to add a fee for the inconvenience of getting cheated.

Rook: You went to the *Threads* about this?

Harding: Neve said if I want to get back at a scammer, I need to go to the experts.

Rook: I’m not a scammer!

~~~

Rook: Ok, Harding, here you go. 40 gold, fair and square.

Harding: My fee’s gone up.

Rook: Seriously?

Harding: Lucanis’s contract negotiator is really good.

~~~

Rook: So the Dalish, are other elves allowed to just join?

Davrin: Don’t tell me you’re thinking about spending your days living in the woods and herding halla.

Rook: Gods, no. I just knew someone who would’ve liked it a lot, I think.

Davrin: Most clans are pretty accepting of city elves who wanted to go back to the old ways. Not sure what the stance is now that our gods are trying to kill everything in sight.

Rook: Right, almost forgot about that.

~~~

Davrin: So why didn’t your friend go to any nearby clans? There are clans in Rivain, right?

Rook: Only a handful. And nowhere near where I grew up. My mother and I were along the coast, so there wasn’t really a forest to wander around in. She always wanted to visit one, though. Learn more about our heritage and all that.

Davrin: Not much of a heritage left nowadays.

Rook: Before or after our gods turned out to be the worst?

Davrin: I’ll let you know when I decide.

~~~

Rook: You know, just once I’d like to come to Dock Town without there being a corpse involved. Or at least a limit. Can we limit it to three corpses maximum next time?

Neve: You said you wanted the full tour.

Rook: I meant more along the lines of fried fish and stray cats and less blood magic and ritual sacrifice.

Neve: (laughs) Next time, I’ll make sure there are as few demons and blood magic as possible. Maybe we could actually enjoy The Cobbled Swan for a change.

Rook: It’s a date, Neve Gallus.

~~~

Neve: Rook, Dock Town’s my problem. You don’t have to keep coming here.

Rook: You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Gallus.

Neve: I meant with the slavery. The odds of you getting recognized are low, but…It can’t be easy coming back here after everything. I can keep you updated if you prefer.

Rook: There are people here exactly like me who are in chains because of their ears or their status or because they can’t use magic. I got out because I got lucky. I can’t leave them behind.

Neve: If we survive this, I’ll have a talk with Ashur. The Shadow Dragons could really use someone like you.

~~~

Emmrich: Rook, I had no idea you were so interested in ancient Nevarran burial rites!

Rook: Beg pardon?

Emmrich: Back at Blackthorne Manor, I noticed you slipping a first edition copy of Nevarran Burials and Customs into your pack. Had I known you had an interest, I would’ve gladly lent you my copy.

Rook: Oh, right, yeah, real interesting read.

Emmrich: In the future, I would recommend against touching any tomes without proper preparation. Most Nevarran books that ancient have various anti-thieving wards.

Rook: Wait, really?

Emmrich: Certainly. Books on burial rites can often make the owner see horrific visions, should the book be acquired by less than legal means.

Rook: Good to know. Hey, not related, but there’s a merchant in the Hall who might have some questions about that.

Emmrich: Oh dear…

[ohmygodryan]

Scars | Astarion x Dark Urge Reader

Summary: Astarion goes to comfort you after finding you’ve wandered from camp.

Pre-confession. Takes place in Act 1. Dark Urge trauma. Hurt/comfort.

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Two things constantly swarmed Astarion’s mind—fear and, of course, eternal hunger. The innate bloodlust that came with vampirism was manageable to a degree. His nightly hunt in the woods was enough to keep him sated, at least for a certain amount of time. 

It was the fear that truly plagued him. He had been thrown from a life of enslavement to a life of uncertainty. Even with the newly found amenities the parasite had brought him, he felt he was doomed no matter what. He wanted to believe it could bring him salvation but around every corner, another danger seemed to emerge. He had never been accustomed to trusting others. Yet there was one person he felt himself growing more attached to every moment. 

You, of all people, had shown him nothing but kindness. You, who clawed through bodies with a tantalizing ambition, always turned a soft gaze to him. It wasn’t your spells of primal violence that frightened him—that part was actually quite delightful, it was that through all of that, you still seemed to care. 

You had let him feed on you, which was the first time he’d ever drank from something other than lowly vermin or unfortunate animals. You had protected him from the clutches of the monster hunter who Cazador had sent after him. You even allowed him to slaughter the Gir without question. You were understanding and even more so exciting. It almost made him feel bad for manipulating you so brazenly.

The thought was beginning to trouble him to such a degree he’d taken to hunting more frequently than usual. On tonight's menu was an unlucky deer. It had been fast, but he was always faster. Although this was a waste of his talents, he much preferred to feed on you. Usually, you were quick to offer. But there had been something troubling you for the last couple of days. More so than the usual brain fog.

He had settled to make his way back to camp for the night. As he stalked through the foliage back to the comfort of his tent, he noticed a familiar figure sulking next to the lake. 

~

Nightfall had become a loathsome burden for you. Your companions welcomed the comfort of their bedrolls at the end of a long day of searching for a cure for your shared affliction. However, you had begun to dread the nightly ritual of tossing and turning. 

You were plagued with growing visions and fantasies of your gory nature. The Urge inside you was growing more impatient by the day. There may have been a time when darkness was an exciting veil that created a playground for your violence to lavish in. Even if that was the case, reminiscing wasn’t a luxury you were afforded. 

Ever since you had ruthlessly savaged that innocent Bard, Alfira, your urges had begun to fester like an open wound. The guilt was eating you away. You hadn’t wanted this. Sure, the occasional violence was necessary and you couldn’t deny that each foe you fell was like the pleasures of a healing spell. However, she wasn’t deserving of your blade. She had offered to join your cause, you had even helped her finish her song in honor of her dead teacher. 

Yet it was not to be. Because you are a monster. 

You gazed at your reflection in the water below. You had wandered from camp in hopes of distracting yourself from another wave of horrible thoughts. Although it was proving fruitless. 

Your face was the only familiar thing about yourself. You didn’t know your own mind or your past. Now, even your reflection was growing foreign. You had been pondering the long scar that stretched from your chin across your cheek. The tissue was mangled, whatever wound you endured was deep. How you procured it was another mystery to you.

As you were about to look away, you saw another image appear next to yours. He had been the only one to notice you were gone. Or maybe you had somehow disturbed his nightly hunt. 

“Darling, what are you doing away from your bedroll?” His flirtatious drawl snapped you out of your stupor. 

You hesitated to answer. The last thing you wanted to do was burden him with your depravity. Although it was likely he didn’t want to listen to you prattle anyway. 

“I couldn’t rest.” You responded simply, “I came out here to clear my thoughts.”

He was uncharacteristically quiet as he considered your slumped form. He had never seen you so dejected before. Usually, you carried yourself with an intimidating—if not a little unhinged form. But in the cover of darkness, you looked almost scared.

“Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but it doesn’t seem very effective. You look a little, how do I say this…lost? A bit more desperate than usual.” He garnished his words with a little smirk. 

You scoffed at his typical attitude. He never turned a nose to an opportunity to comment on you or your companions. Although, he seemed to enjoy a reaction from you in particular. However this time, you thought you could hear a tinge of concern, or perhaps curiosity, in his tone.

“I just have a lot on my mind.” You replied.

You knew Astarion all too well. He likely wanted something from you. He had his charms and usually you humored his antics. You couldn’t deny you were the most fond of him out of all your companions. Right now, however, you weren’t in the mood for any flirty banter. 

To your surprise, he didn’t respond with any snarky remarks. Instead, he took a seat next to you on the grassy bank. You turned your head quizzically, regarding his pale form. His hair was tousled from the night's hunt, only slightly disturbed from its usually pristine form. The silver lighting framed the fang indents on his neck, a crude reminder of his vampiric curse. 

“What troubles you, my dear?” He asked, eyeing you with his ruby gaze.

You surveyed him, trying to clock any deception on his features. You were all too aware of how practiced he was at enthralling others. He had an uncannily silver tongue. 

He maintained his usual flirty smile, although there was a softness to his gaze. You shifted uneasily in your spot. You hated when he gave you that look. The Urge laced your consciousness with visions of his demise with every sweet feeling you perceived him with. You cast your gaze back to the lake, holding your tongue fast. Your throat ached to spill what had been ailing you, but your fear was a far greater master. 

“Why do you care?” You questioned, distracting yourself with the steady ripples of the water.

He chuckled at your harshness. You weren’t usually so brash. It only served to further pique his curiosity.

“Well we can’t have our fearless leader out of commission, can we? Don’t tell me the worm is besting you now?” He pushed.

You gritted your teeth in hopes of killing the feeling sputtering inside you. He was right. With how you’ve been acting, the group would never make progress in removing the tadpoles.

“The parasite isn’t the one scrambling my brain. My head is a mess.” You confessed, refusing to make eye contact.

He paused, joining you in looking out at the landscape. He wasn’t a fool. He had noticed your episodes of flitting between selves. After all, you had executed a poor innocent squirrel unprovoked. 

“You are referring to your mysterious past, correct?” He didn’t wait for you to reply, “It is quite obvious you’ve got something besides the tadpole swimming in that lovely little head of yours.”

You frowned at his words. What little of your memories remained could only be recalled in a painful fog. They were like mismatched puzzle pieces, entirely incomprehensible. 

“If I could remember something, maybe I could figure out what is wrong with me.” You declared hopelessly.

Your mind raced across the weeks before. From crashing to invading goblin camps, you were still no closer to knowing who you were. 

He took in your words with careful thought. He hadn’t entirely expected you to open up as it was.

“Well if there’s one thing I’ve learned from this peculiar adventure of ours is that anything can happen. If I can walk in the sun again, who’s to say you can’t you can figure out who you were?” He expressed, looking at you from the corner of his eye. 

He wasn’t wrong. You knew his entire life changed from your group’s capture. Although, you hesitated to want to know the truth of who you were before the crash. It could be a horrific truth that you were a depraved being who deserved to die on that nautiloid. 

“Sometimes I get a brief inkling of recalling something and then… nothing. Maybe if I could remember I would know how to stop these urges.” You thought out loud. 

His attentive expression willed you to voice your confliction. You pressed on, uneasy at the prospect of being so honest.

“It’s like there's a sea of thrashing tides when they come over me. I can’t be sure what will set them off. Just when I think I will be able to resist them….” You trailed off, refusing to put into words what you’d done.

A grim silence surrounded you. For a moment, you feared you had shared too much. He may very well be considering his place in the party, probably debating whether or not it was worth being around such instability.

“I know what you did.” He said finally.

You tensed at his words. Images of the fiendish entity that claimed to be your butler pranced in your head. He had even given you a prize for your macabre achievement. 

“I know it was no rabid boar that killed that bard from the grove. You may have convinced the others but I could see it in your eyes. I recognize the remnants of repressed savagery.” Astarion looked back at you, but instead of an accusatory gaze, you saw understanding.

“I do not blame you for it.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows. He had knowingly slept in the same camp as you for all this time, even seeing how you gored Alfira beyond recognition. You felt your stomach swirl in unease.

“Why didn’t you tell everyone?” You questioned.

His expression hardened into one of bitter sympathy, “Because, I know better than anyone what it’s like to not have control over your own body. Whatever compulsion plagues you isn’t really who you are.”

Your face fell at the mention. You clenched your hands together, the memories of what he’d shared with you about his previous life flooding back. He was a vampire spawn, he wasn’t afforded such basic rights such as free will.

“Cazador…” You spoke the name of his old master hesitantly. 

He nodded grimly, “It never mattered what I wanted. I had to bend to his every whim.”

You watched as his eyes danced with the painful memories. His delicate lips pulled into a deep frown as if the very thought filled his mouth with a foul taste. 

“But I have been made anew. The tadpole gave me a chance to become more than just his slave.” He looked at you determinedly, “You too have been given an opportunity and I suggest you don’t let it slip away.”

You felt a flicker of optimism in your chest. But even so, it seemed your past was following you. You knew finding a cure for your parasite wouldn’t be the end of your problems

“Do you really think this will help me remember my past?” You said with uncertainty.

“Maybe. We’ve seen more things than I thought possible on our little misadventure. Even so, you at least have a chance to figure out what's causing these urges of yours. You said you have been able to recall a few memories, right?” He replied with a gentle conviction. 

His words seemed to soothe you and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You looked back to your reflection as if examining your face would retrace your steps through the fog of your mind. 

You scoffed as you stared at yourself, “It’s not like they are much help. I can’t even remember how I got this scar.”

You gestured to the obvious laceration on your face. He surveyed you thoughtfully, taking in your exhausted expression. The moonlight cast a serene glow on you, painting you in a haunting beauty. Whatever had done that to you hadn’t done much to tarnish your allure. 

“It seems like both of us have scars we don’t know the meaning of.” He mused.

You held his gaze sorrowfully. You recalled him basking in the sunlight after the night you’d spent together. The strange marks carved into his back by Cazador sparked in your memory. 

“I’m sure there’s someone out there who can tell you what they say.” You offered him a hesitant smile.

He returned it, his expression looking more genuine than you’d ever seen it before. He leaned back and rested his weight on his palms. He stared up at the stars, allowing himself to relish in the comfort of understanding.

“Perhaps you’re right.” He let out a peaceful breath, “‘We can figure it out together,’ I think you said that to me once?”

You nodded and he continued with a smile, “Well it’s true. We can solve our mysteries one step at a time.” 

You joined him in looking up at the sky. For the first time in countless days, the urges didn’t tug at the back of your mind. It was just you and him in this moment. It was like you were invisibly bound together by what you had shared. Even in the silence, you savored in each other's company. 

You didn’t care if his coming to comfort you had been sincere or not. He had given you hope, that’s all that mattered. 

That night you would partake in something you hadn’t in quite some time. A tranquil rest.

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Let me know if anyone would be interested in more bg3 content or a full series. This game is my bread and butter.

[malfiora]

Motherhood in WandaVision, Doctor Strange 2, & Agatha All Along

Many, many spoilers ahead

Summary

Starting with the obvious: Wanda creates her and Vision's twins, Billy and Tommy, entirely from her own imagination. After losing them when she takes the hex down, she embarks on a quest to bring them back to life, even if it means tapping into dark forces and killing anyone who stands in her way, as we see in Doctor Strange

During the events of WandaVision, Monica attempts to connect to Wanda, empathizing with her grief over Vision through her own loss of her mother Maria.

As an inverse of Wanda, America Chavez's mothers sacrificed themselves to save her, now making her an orphan as she dimension hops. Wanda initially tries to abduct America to use her powers, and America stops her by bringing her to an alternate universe in which the twins are afraid of her and call out to their timeline's version of Wanda.

Around this time, Billy's soul takes over William Kaplan's body, and while he doesn't remember anything else before that moment, he knows he needs to save his twin Tommy, whose soul is lost. He seeks Agatha to access The Road, which is rumored to grant any who completes it whatever they want. Along the way, Agatha learns who he is.

Billy rejects the idea that Wanda is his mother, claiming he already has a mom (implying William's mother), and Agatha plays along. Still, Billy's reality manipulation and Wiccan costume match Wanda's.

Not long before this, Alice Wu-Gulliver is able to break her family's curse and learns along the way that her rockstar mother's rendition of The Witch's Road ballad was actually a spell to keep Alice safe since her mother couldn't protect her from the curse.

At the end of Agatha All Along, we see that Agatha conceived of her son Nicholas Scratch by herself ("from scratch") but he was doomed to die young. She kills witches to feed him for as long as she can but Rio (Death) inevitably comes to him. It is Nicky's song that sparks the rumor of the Witch's Road, which Agatha uses to trick other witches to steal their power.

Agatha admits to Billy that she is afraid to face Nicky in the afterlife, and that he reminds her of Nicky. They walk off together to "go find Tommy."

Analysis

Grief (defined here as the response to the loss of a loved one characterized by sadness and/or anger and similar emotions) acts as a unifier and motivation. The mishandling of grief leads characters (Wanda, Agatha) to cause suffering to others and steal resources to protect or bring to life their loved ones. Both characters are redeemed by the empathy of another grieving character, usually a grieving child (Monica, Billy, America).

This manifests in grieving parent/grieving child relationships that then lend to a found family dynamic: Monica and Wanda, America and Wanda, Billy and Agatha. Despite Billy claiming that he doesn't see Wanda as his mother (most likely indicating that he sees William Kaplan's mother as his true parent), he still falls into this dynamic, first by default and then willingly.

Motherhood is also tied to sacrifice. On one hand, we have mother figures who sacrifice themselves to save or protect their children: Lorna dedicated her life to protecting Alice, America's mothers helped her escape their dying world, and even Maria can be seen as having sacrificed herself since she built up SWORD while dying thus enabling Monica's career path. On the other, we also have mothers forced to sacrifice their children: Wanda must release the twins as she lets down the hex, and Agatha eventually loses Nicky. This divide evenly splits the mothers who are seen as heroes and the mothers who are deemed villains.

And finally we have rejection. For some characters, this means rejection of their self; for others, it's a rejection of their mothers. For Billy, these are almost the same thing: he denies Wanda as his mother while also questioning his identity. This might be because Wanda has hurt many people and Billy didn't want to identify with that.

Alice initially rejects her mother's career and belief in The Road, believing that the obsession drove her mad. Upon learning the truth, she accepts everything, which empowers her to break her family's curse.

On the alternate Earth in Doctor Strange 2, Wanda's rampage is only stopped by her fear of rejection from her children.

And of course, Evanora rejected Agatha centuries ago, claiming that Agatha was born evil. This is most likely why Agatha acts like a villain: she was told from the beginning that that's all she is. We can see in her repeated pleas to her mother that she "can be good" that Agatha longed for her mother's acceptance, or at least to be spared her wrath, but she never got it. Interestingly, Agatha's parenting of Nicky is exactly the opposite. She cherishes her son, dotes on him, even refuses to get upset and comforts him when Nicky disobeys her.

In a nutshell, the MCU places motherhood along the continuum of heroism and villainy that is defined by what a character must sacrifice and how they handle their grief. While the depth of emotions surrounding this trope is a shortcut for creating accessibly deep characters, this still feels like a narrow view of femininity. This of course harkens back to Natasha Romanov's abominable character moment in which she claims to be a monster because she can't have children. If the definition of womanhood is the ability to have babies, and then the definition of motherhood is to die or lose, then the MCU is basically arguing that its women are disposable props. Based on how compelling the femme characters since WandaVision have been, this doesn't seem intentional, and in fairness non maternal femme characters (e.g. Rio, Lilia Calderu, Jen) are still given emotional depth and range and interesting arcs. So hopefully Marvel will continue to show motherhood as an aspect of life that can add depth to a character, and not an inevitability fraught with death for all women.

[ultfreakme]

Okay so.....this is complicated. I'd like to start off by saying, firstly, we are all allowed to write what we please, but we do not hold sway over how art we create is received. Second, there are distinctions in how different art is perceived and the responsibility this art has towards people. Third, all art is political. Fourth, specific to this post, what does "evil" mean in fiction and how does it relate to reality?

You are absolutely free to write a Horde Lord AU! What you include in this up to your judgement and your vision for this. The reason people are often much more critical of original media like Arcane is because of the thing I said in the second point where different art has different levels of responsibility and distinctions in perception.

Fanfiction is fairly niche. You may opt out of reading it if you'd like, there is no pressure to read. But a mainstream show like Arcane is advertised frequently, you really can't avoid or ignore it the way you would a fanfiction. Arcane also has large social impacts. It has kickstarted new forms of drawing and animation, and its storytelling toolkit has been further utilized by others.

The medium is important here, because large-scale corporations and companies can use things like Arcane to push specific messaging and propaganda. We all obviously show our politics to SOME extent in our art, it's impossible to extricate that, but individuals such as fan creators don't have similar influence so even if a fic writer writes something super "problematic", it's fine, because it's an individual creator putting out their art without any urgency for the general population to see it or endorse it. This is important because art can and often has been used to influence political opinions, specifically by corporations.

This difference in the ways in which fanfiction and original media affects the world, and our reaction to story elements in it is because of the above points.

So, yes you can make your lesbians as evil as you want. But a lesbian character in a fanfiction killing everyone and idk, torturing or SA'ing someone would be fine. But put that on the big screen and people will have obvious criticisms because media has often portrayed lesbians as predatory, which in turn propagates lesbophobia. We need to keep in mind this gap.

Now in Arcane, Caitlyn is a cop. She's actually head cop and there are scenes of her brutalizing poor people and their neighbourhoods by gassing them. Her girlfriend Vi is from these poor neighbourhoods, and Caitlyn has told her to her face something along the lines of "your blood makes you as horrible as your sister"(she also once called Vi's people "animals"). Now in fanfiction, this would be questionable but if a reader is uninterested they can just leave if they disagree with this kind of a plot line. It doesn't affect anyone, it doesn't cause waves in pop culture, etc.

But Arcane is HUGE. So if a Cop Character is calling people animals, gassing them, hitting their s/o and they still get their s/o with a happiy ever after and no repercussions- it is deeply political. Defense of Caitlyn for the above actions has stirred a huge wave of racism against a Black character and his VA. People are speaking in rhetoric defending police brutality. The show also neglects prison abuse and SA by ignoring Vi's trauma from being falsely imprisoned.

ALL of these decisions are deeply political when coming from corporation creating a story specifically to sell and audience a product(Arcane as the show, League of Legends as a game). This was not created with the mindset of a singular individual going "what if I explore this idea?" it is a large entity pushing a certain messaging to convince a large audience of a very specific rhetoric.

This is why it's important to be careful and thoughtful to some extent when creating things. Obviously that doesn't mean there is no place for "problematic" or "evil" art, it's just, be aware of the things your art is gonna say. AO3 has a tagging system so we can all go into it with awareness.

And, the idea of "evil". So fictional evil and irl evil are obviously very different. Characters get leeway so long as their story is done well. Irl, murdering hundreds would be bad, but in fiction, no one would care. But, if in fiction a character tortures someone or is a pedophile, people would generally have the same amount of hatred and disgust for the character as an irl person who's done the same. Why? Why do we have these distinctions in crime? That's also deeply political and important to dissect.

Violence has been normalized in media and death as a concept holds different weight in fiction. SA and such are portrayed consistently as horrible and evil, and the nature of these crimes in relation to people vary. Fantasy killing with a giant laser beam or a cool sword is distinctly removed from reality and you can suspend disbelief and that gut reaction people have.

SA, torture, etc, are depicted with a lot more real life connections and thus it feels impossible to separate it from our sentiments in reality.

This is also what happened with CaitVi. Police brutality as it is depicted in Arcane has been inspired by real life police brutality. They used pictures of protests in recent years as references for drawings, and imprisoned the characters in the protests. CaitVi is a harrowingly realistic depiction of a cop character being abusive towards an S/O. In a Horde Lord AU, Catradora are in outer space on a distant planet with magic-tech weapons. SPOP carefully depicts its violence as distantly from reality as possible. CaitVi, does not, and on top of that it tries to make it seem like Caitlyn is the good guy despite all her actions as a cop. This is real. People have experienced this directly and have had their experiences trivialized.

All of these aspects combined led to a disdain for CaitVi. So unless you're like, idk, genuinely writing something with the intent of convincing a large audience that fascism is good, actually, and we as a society irl should all just let any colonizers have at it, you're good.

Does Toxic Yuri have a limit? Genuinely asking here (a potential Horde Lord Catradora AU)

Okay, so for the last while I've been having a kinda exsistential crisis about a particular fic I wanna do. Namely, I want to do my own take on a what if Adora stayed in the Horde AU, aka the Horde Lord AU as some people call it.

I saw another post earlier that was saying that it's obviously okay to have evil characters in a story and whatnot. I'll link it here. https://www.tumblr.com/dovesndecay/760032664866701312?source=share

So like it's clear to me people love their evil, messed up toxic lesbians, right? Except I've been seeing stuff about Arcane on the sidelines and while I haven't seen it yet, I know that some stuff about how the two girls in that show were written and depicted pissed off a lot people.

So is there like some limit on how evil lesbians can actually be in stories that people just don't wanna talk about? Is this just an internet nuance is dead thing?

I've been conflicted about this sort of thing for a while and to be honest I don't really have answer to it. If anyone wishes to chime in and help me out, I'd appreciate it.

[mswyrr]

more on michelin stars

I genuinely think it's going to be an important plot point in s3 re: why exactly Sydney wants a star and why *one* specifically. I went and researched and discovered something I used in my fic, which is that one Michelin star restaurants are excellent cuisine that normal people can still afford. And that connected, for me, to what Sydney had told Marcus about how going out was so special when she was a kid and she wanted to share that kind of amazing thing with people:

We didn't really like eat out a lot growing up, so when we did, it felt special even if it wasn't.... I wanna cook for people and make them happy and give them the best bacon on Earth (1x08)

I'm so hopeful/convinced that the research they have with, like, Matty (the chef who plays Fak) right there on set, means the writers know that about what one star places can be like. And that it's meant to be part of this - more humane vision of excellence for Sydney, where their spot is AMAZING, but it's not a cruel kitchen culture, it's not only for the rich.

For her, it’s *part* of her vision, where she says: 

“I think this place could be so different from all the other places we've been at. But, in order for that to be true, we need to run things different.“ (1x03)

But Carmy sees a star and all it means (all he’s ever known it to mean) as a repudiation of that kind of humanity. You say the word "star" and immediately Carmy goes "fuck stars" (2x01) as pure self-defense - because stars are just pain and suffering to him. They're NYC chef and everything that mess became.

He's so traumatized by the whole thing he doesn't think to ask the right questions: why do you want one? What is your vision for it? Why do you specifically want *one* instead of two or three? What timeline do you have in mind for getting there and how can we strategize on this together?

Instead, because he wants so desperately to please her, despite that instinctive, self-defensive "fuck stars" he relents and asks - okay, are you sure? Are you positive this is what you want? Really?? It's terrible. It's just dread and fear and throwing up every day before work. You really want me to give you this?

(I’ll give you anything you want)

He never asks the right questions. Just assuming the level of pain which is his only experience of this is what the thing IS--playing into that theme about how people only know what they're taught, only know what they are given, and if we are given pain and patterns of it it is so hard to even imagine things can be different and, when you can imagine it, still so hard to actually get there.

(It’s not a coincidence that the ASL sign is one of the few positive, healthy examples of kitchen culture Carmy witnessed - we only know what we’re taught, and it can be hard work to even figure out what “not shitty” IS let alone doing it)

So he's assuming all of that and it's like - if she's his CDC, does she want him to push her as hard as he was pushed? Push himself that hard again? He doesn't want to do either of those things. But that's all he knows. And she keeps saying this is what she wants. And he wants to give her everything she wants.

(In the same conversation she kept saying yes, this is what I want, she expressed admiration for the designer chef outfit he later buys her as a gift - he wants to give her everything she wants, even when it seems like a terrible idea he’s torn about)

I think this misunderstanding is intentional and it’s going to come out in S3. A one star restaurant fits so perfectly with what we know of Sydney’s goals and love for her work! And Carmy not able to even conceive of something better because of the patterns he’s stuck in and finding his way to her vision makes sense for him.

I think Carmy figuring out how this work can be joyful and humane is going to be a huge part of S3. Sydney not becoming lost in the high stress environment, not following in younger!Carmy's footsteps living a life of pure drive and dread, and Carmy finding that for the first time.

I do think that, given where they both end in 2x10, there’s going to be a period of conflict and a real bunch of issues for both of them - but with themes and ideas like this seeded into the story there’s so many ways to make s3 start out in a bad way and then really end in joy in a beautiful way?