#been naturally not popular anymore if not for these intrusions

[femmesandhoney]

i find it interesting the things that are considered to have stopped being popular didn't necessarily stop being popular, capitalists just made it harder to acquire, use, upkeep them, often forcing these changes in people's likes, dislikes, and spending patterns

[mcytblr-archive]

Early MCYTblr Interviews: wormweeb

our interviewee today is @wormweeb, author of the cowboy au, nominee in the 2020 MCYTblr election, and overall MCYTblr veteran. below is a transcript of the questions and answers!

Q: What do you remember most fondly about “Early MCYTblr”? (2020-2021)

A: I think early mcytblr had the perfect mix of being an insular, small community with enough people actually posting (whether it be shitposts, art, fix, etc.) to keep the community alive. Perfect reblogger-creator ratio, I think. I loved seeing the familiar notifications from blogs that frequently RBed my stuff and familiar Urls in the tags (which I probably checked daily lol). There was this infectious energy that made being in the fandom so fun, with all the inside jokes and interactions and inter-blog familiarity.

Q: Do you recall your experience in the first MCYTblr election? What was it like?

A: Honestly, there was a lot of anxiety. I didn’t have many friends in the fandom in the sense that I didn’t often DM with people or talk in discord servers. I was kind of reclusive, so having to reach out to find running mates was nerve-racking! And then being thrust into a huge discord server with a bunch of other people I didn’t really know at all… It was all bizarrely anxiety-inducing. I didn’t really care about the results that much, since it was kind just a popularity contest (no hate, just true). I think the elections were cute and fun, another sort of fandom activity that I think only could’ve worked in an insular but involved fandom.

Q: Building off the last question– in my time archiving, I’ve seen people both hold you in high regard and condemn your blog wholesale. Is it odd to be talked about as a pseudo-historical figure in MCYTblr culture? 

A: It’s mind-boggling! When I did all my posting as wormweeb, roughly July 2020 to august 2021, I was 16/17 and literally never left my house due to quarantine. It’s bizarre to think I was influential in that microcosm of a fandom, because I was truthfully just Some Guy irl. It was weird to see the extremes of how people treated me, with some users (much younger than me, I should add) treating me like a cc, with other people acting like I was a toxic supervillain.

At the time, I was deeply concerned with my image in the fandom. I reveled in the shocked reactions to some of my more… avant guard posts… but I was also really bothered when people talked badly about me. I wanted to be liked and popular, but I also wanted to be shocking and critical. I had contradictory motivations behind my posting, which I probably lead to such polarized reactions to my presence in the fandom.

Ultimately, I think it’s super interesting to see how people talk about me — whether they remember me as ‘that one crazy truthing blog’ or the cowboy au author or a proto-critblr poster or a toxic bad takes poster, etc. I don’t take any of it too personally any more, thankfully.

Q: Do you think that MCYTblr’s cultural shift away from crit and ‘truthing’ has been an overall good or bad thing? 

A: I can’t really say. I think it’s natural that as a fandom expands, the most palatable takes will become the dominant ones, and any unpopular criticism / trutherisms will be pushed to the fringe. I can see why some people thought criticism was toxic and truthing was intrusive, but truthfully, I don’t think it reflected any poster’s moral character. I’m not involved in mcytblr anymore, so I don’t know exactly what the state of the current fandom looks like.

Q: Do you ever find yourself missing 2020-2021 MCYTblr? If so, what do you miss the most?

A: I often do miss that era of my life. Truthfully, I miss the attention and (infinitesimally small, microcosmic) cultural import I had. There was an exciting thrill that came with getting notifications every second of the day — that’s not an exaggeration either. I liked having people leave deranged asks in my ask box, or ask my opinion on some random streamer micro controversy, or people asking me when the next chapter of my fanfic would come out (lol). I, of course, miss the other elements of being in an active fandom — the fanfics, the fan artists, the familiarity between blogs,

However… I also know I was mentally unhealthy during that time. I was isolated, so it was fun and exciting to be an ultra-micro celebrity, but at the same time, I took it way too seriously. Because I painted myself as some sort of moral guardian, the great Intellectual Critiquer of content creators, I was terrified to make any bad takes… which, ironically, I made a lot of. I had painted myself into a corner both being dteam critical and (unfortunately) a genuine dteam stan at the time.

Q: Several in-jokes have lost their context (jewge, ancap dream, tradwife george/dream, homophobic dream and sapnap, republican dream, mega milk sapnap/george, etc). Would you like to provide their context, for archival and media literacy purposes?

A: Here’s a rundown for all of them!

“Jewge” was actually sparked by warpedfungusonastick, which I helped popularized. There are a few old videos where George’s friends called him jewge, and that combined with his ashkenazi last name led me to speculate he was jewish — for what its worth, im also jewish. Unfortunately, I think those videos of baby jewge have been lost to time. But nonetheless, that spawned a mini-jewge fandom, which jewge fanart!

Tradwife George and dream… I don’t know even know. I think the idea of “male wives” was trending on general Tumblr at the time. There was already this fandom idea of Dream being a “needy top” and George being the sugar baby/bitchy/uninterested love interest, which I just transplanted onto the idea of tradwifery. Dream as the doting tradwife, George as the unloving tradwife, etc.

Republican/Anarcho-capitalist dream — Ah, this one is kind of embarrassing!! I was really into jreg, and I was, for the first time ever, exposed to political ideas outside of the generic democrat vs republican dichotomy. I was really fascinated by right-wing libertarian or “ancap” ideology, and I already saw dream as a kind of self-made capitalist success story. At least, that’s what he portrayed himself as. My critique of dream and calling him ancap/republican was kind of a baby’s first leftism moment for me… but I nonetheless think the jokes were mostly funny.

Homophobic dream / sapnap — They gave me republican vibes. Dream especially, with some of his older, unsavory tweets, reeked of edgy gamergate humor.

Megamilk sapnap — I didn’t really pioneer this one! I believe this was mostly a Tumblr user who I think was pandascanpvp, or it was Plates gayminecraftmen (or both).

I’ll use this opportunity to catalogue a few more obscure wormweeb-pioneered AUs.

Homestuck au! I think I imagined it as dream = dirk, George = Jake English. Colournotfound (rip gone but not forgotten) did so much of the sustaining of the au.

Scott Pilgrim au. Dream = Scott, George = Ramona. Fundy = envy. This one got fan art!

Q: What was your physical, mental, and emotional reaction when kaceytron pulled up your crit post on stream?

A: Baffled. Excited. God, I wish I had clipped it! I still have a screenshot. I desperately hoped she would read it to dream (who joined the stream later). That felt like I had peaked as a cc stan blog… having a C-list streamer pull up my post on stream. Literally google searching “dream queer baiting” because she didn’t even know what she was accusing him of, or how to support her argument.

Q: Is there anything else you particularly want to share or talk about? 

A: I was just want to say that although I don’t watch or support any member of the dteam any more, I still am proud of the cowboy au. It’s kind of a relic of the time (especially the gnf and Maya mxmtoon stuff). The general response to the fanfiction was… wow!! Everyone who commented on that fanfiction was so exceedingly kind. People even drew fan art. I am still happy to have written something that, despite the inherent cringeness of it, positively affected so many people.

[oatmealdaydreams]

Roman Headcanons (A Rant)

I have Roman Sanders brainrot. So yeah, some headcanons I got. In list form.

You can thank these two -> @prodigal-explorer & @disneybrandautism

Warnings: discussion of gaslighting & manipulation & emotional abuse & victim-blaming & intrusive thoughts

90% of this is just from observations I made while watching canon.

[read below the cut]

My Roman Headcanons

autistic Roman w/ a Disney special interest (@disneybrandautism introduced me to this one)

Roman who happy stims by bouncing on his feet and jumping in place and flapping his hands

Roman who cannot keep still (always gotta be moving)

insecurities, so many things, can some pls hug him

touch-starved Roman

autistic Roman in general

has an overworking problem (based on him needing to be "perfect")

man has been gaslit so many times, dear lord

horrible perfectionism

feels like he's only good at being used but not even that anymore (think of SvS Redux and just how Janus has treated him the entire time)

often feels useless

works to an unhealthy degree for any ounce of praise and positive attention

keeps getting victim-blamed, so he believes no one will ever trust what he says or does no matter what

^also thinks it's all his fault most of the time, so he apologizes for a lot (that he shouldn't need to apologize for)

feels like he has no support so there's no use in "burdening" people with his problems

LOVES Beauty and The Beast and The Lion King

has a Disney-themed nightlight (fear of the dark, anyone?)

struggles with his own intrusive thoughts due to all his mistreatment and he doesn't even realize what they are for a long while

everything that being the Ego entails (is a bit fragile towards criticism)

being the Ego means he needs positive attention and praise but he's very deprived of that

lashes out in anger cause of the Others confusing him (see SvS Redux, basically)

as the Ego, he needs clear structure of right and wrong & in general, but he ain't getting that it seems

did I mentioned Touch-Starved Roman yet?

boyo feels a bit hopeless and unloved at this point

is one fierce protector of everyone he loves (even those who keep hurting him)

is held to insane expectations

selfless to an unhealthy point, me thinks

blames himself for a lot

may struggle with body dysmorphia sometimes

I cannot stop thinking about she/he Roman

is like a knight cause he just wants to keep everyone safe n stuff

actually pays attention to a lot, so he knows exactly how to make someone feel better on a bad day

will spoil those he loves at every chance he gets

apologizes when he makes a wrong and keeps his promises to do better

likes long skirts and big puff skirts cause it makes him feel like a royal <3

very much enjoys dualling his brother in the Imagination

love language is physical affection/Squish Me Into The Aether

has some fidget toys in his room, both for himself and if anyone visiting needs one

loves the f*ck out of his spinner ring (a lil fidget ring ya can spin on your finger)

Burnout, but sometimes can get literal

when there's a creative block or burnout, Roman's insecurities get hella amplified

talks with his hands

may also have a theatre/musical-based special interest and loves acting so much

Theatre Kid(tm)

would NOT be a popular kid in Highschool AU, but instead just an expressive but perfectionist theatre kid who's held to impossible standards

scared to speak his mind cause he always gets shut down for it (on some level)

values the Others very much, all for different reasons, but just really loves them

has a very big heart

naive and sometimes trusts too easily

good-natured banter that people don't always take well (they mistake it for insults, which he doesn't intend)

misses his brother actually

feels like he doesn't have anyone to turn to

loves movie nights, especially when it's Disney

will banter and bicker with Virgil and Remus and Logan as a love language

is a bit hesitant around Janus and Patton cause he's terrified of getting things wrong (yet again)

still very much cares about Janus, but feels so betrayed by him and Patton that it's very hard to be around the both of them

looked up to Patton but we saw how that went, didn't we?

is so Passionate and Lively with his writing!! loves it so much

Creativity but also Ego so he bases his worth on whatever praise his works bring/what he can do and produce for Thomas

^(makes me think that having his Creativity also be his Ego may mean c!Thomas feels his worth is based on whatever creative work he can produce? huh.)

has a dragon plushie (comfort item) that matches with one that Remus has, from when they were younger and closer

takes care of everything he owns to an almost perfectionist point, and same goes for those he loves

cares deeply about things

has a tendency to get emotionally attached to his creations and goes through an inexplainable grief when something gets ruined or lost or get a little "pooped on"

likes to paint his nails, has a signature look of red nails with gold crowns on them

polishes/sharpens his sword at night to help him think

insomniac cause Creative Drive is active at night

Loves Virgil and his protectiveness/mother hen tendencies, loves Remus for his never-ending ideas/inspiration (Creativity) and him always just being himself, love Patton for his big heart and ability to handle Emotions cause that's a lot of work, loves Logan for his intelligence and sharing a love for Crofter's and for when how animated he gets when he talks about something he likes, loves Janus for keeping everyone safe (even if he doesn't exactly like him rn) and how he can help people out of their own lies, and loves Thomas because he's their centre and he means everything to Roman

And lots more!! Roman has now taken over my Think Tank. I shan't ever escape.

[kaisfoxhoard]

artwork by me

i wanted to make my first post something cool but all i came up with was this rant about the social media platform i called my home for 6 years.

**a rant**

im finding dark patterns on instagram that dont appeal to me and that i cant support. the entire platform is geared towards shortform content and keeping you on the platform for as long as possible. thus the platform drives away small artists and does not give them a chance to grow

1. dark patterns consist of things such as: updating the app and making small changes that nobody asked for, removing the ability to see every post under a hashtag, and reels taking you down unintentional rabbit holes.

ive always been annoyed by recommended reels on your home page taking you off of your home page and sending you into the reels page. i am in belief that your home page should be a static area that is full of things you’d expect to see there such as posts from people you follow. when a reel takes you out of your home page, its very intrusive and i often find myself getting lost down this rabbit hole for 30 minutes and feeling annoyed after realizing what had happened.

when i recently found out that you cant view recent posts under a hashtag, i was absolutely pissed. its a direct attack against small artists and people who want to look for commissions of maybe an artist with a not-so-popular style. or even cheap coms. if i cant find these smaller artists and support them, how can we expect a community to grow and prosper. how can i expect to grow from a hashtag directly. at that point why even bother with putting a hashtag.

2.with the rise of short form content, artists have had to find new ways to gain reach from their posts. naturally, art in of itself doesnt have great video content, as its a picture. while one could argue this creates competitive creativity and drives someone to think outside the box, it ultimately harms and deters new artists from giving it a go, because it requires more time devoted to the entertaining part of the content than the actual artwork being created. most short form content is designed to generate a quick laugh and maybe a like and follow. when artists cant do that, because they want a specific aesthetic to their art, lack of interaction between community and artist may drive their passion dry.

with the fact that instagram is now more geared towards short videos and not photos like it once used to be, the chances of success as an artist is becoming scarce. theres a loss of close knit community that was once present.

thats what i hope to achieve here. i want to bring back that community feeling that we all once felt. i dont make art all too often anymore because instagram has killed my desire to make and create. i want to see awesome art. thats about it. when i create stuff i want atleast a little bit of attention. i dont want to feel like something i spent hours of my time making, flopped.

if ur still reading this…. thanks

i hope its made you realize that, wow. we all waste so much time on reels, and tiktoks too. to me, the short form content just doesnt sit well with me. i want to be enthralled in whatever im engaged with. lets make a cool community together! thankyou artists!

[beikonsims]

15 questions for 15 mutuals

Tagged by @curiousb

1. are you named after anyone?

After a popular artist from the city I was born in and a stupid song my parents used to torture me with for years.

2. when was the last time you cried?

Few months ago was the last time I cried for real. When I lost my father back in January. Other than that I sometimes get a little teary eyed while watching/listening to sentimental stuff, but I don't think that counts as a proper cry.

3. do you have kids?

Hell no. Never intend to have.

4. do you use sarcasm a lot?

I do. Mostly with people I'm close with, when I know they will understand it and not get offended. But also it comes naturally in online arguments, because I'm petty like that.

5. what sports do you play/have you played?

I'm not rly sporty, never have been. The only sport I enjoyed was casual badminton, but also haven't done that in years.

6. what’s the first thing you notice about other people?

I honestly don't know? I tend to look at people's faces to try and "read" them. I feel like I can genuinely figure out a person by looking at their expressions (which doesn't really seem like a hot take).

7. scary movies or happy endings?

I'd say happy endings, but not in the sappy generic way. I like when there's a little bit of everything for a good balance - some angst, drama, comedy, light-hearted happy stuff etc. I don't tend to watch scary movies, because they rely too much on blood and gore these days and it's not exactly good for my intrusive thoughts.

8. any special talents?

Not that I'm really aware of? People I know tell me I'm good at coming up with stories and writing OCs, but I mostly keep that in private. Don't share much of my stuff in public outside of the light-hearted Sims posting here.

I used be good at drawing, I guess? Before I neglected it due to mental health issues for years and now I just don't really feel like picking it up again to practice.

9. where were you born?

In a little hellhole called Poland, but we don't talk about that.

10. what are your hobbies?

Mostly video games. Writing characters and stories with my close friends. Generic stuff like listening to music and watching anime from time to time. I also read a lot when I have a "reading phase", especially horror genre (ironically) and novels based on the video games I like.

11. do you have any pets?

Yep. A 9 y/o cat and a 5 y/o guinea pig.

12. how tall are you?

1,70m

13. fave subject in school?

I used to like language, art and IT classes. Never had the brain for science or memory for dates and numbers.

14. dream job?

One that pays decent and doesn't require me to interact with customers. I feel too old to think about "dream jobs" anymore and all the ones I used to have when I was younger were eventually verified by life and my anxiety.

15. eye colour?

Grayish green. They always felt more grey to me, but I was told there's a green tint to them.

I know I should tag mutuals here, but I don't exactly interact much with people here. Not because I don't like you, but because I'm a generally anxious creature and don't like to bother people with stuff like that. If you're reading this and you follow my simblr, you're welcome to do it. Feel tagged.

[ghoulsstolemyheart]

Can You See Me Longing For You

Dewdrop/Aether, heat cycles, outdoor sex, anal fingering, anal sex, handjobs, overstimulation

2.4k words

With his heat looming on the horizon, Dewdrop is separated from Aether by their conflicting work schedules. But when he just can’t take it anymore he seeks out his favourite ghoul to help take all his problems away.

Dewdrop was bored out of his skull. The tour was over and a rift was growing between the band ghouls as Sister Imperator had split them up for their work in the abbey. The only time they all got to spend together was during band practice once every two weeks, cut down from once a week as Imperator claimed it took their focus off their chores. What does that old woman know about anything anyway, Dew thought to himself. To say he was bitter would be an understatement. He wouldn’t admit it to another living soul but he missed his friends. He especially missed one friend in particular.

Since getting back from tour and being assigned to the night guard, Aether was pretty much constantly exhausted. He essentially became nocturnal, only surfacing during the day when they had band practice and he would often be found asleep on his feet. Sometimes Copia would send him to his room, but usually he would just let him nap in a corner on the floor of the music room. And Aether wasn’t the only one, Mountain was also having a hard time adjusting to the life of the ghouls in the night guard, but he could usually power through until the end of practice before he fell asleep.

This new working pattern gave Dew and Aether no real time together, something Dewdrop was especially mad about when he felt the first telltale signs of his heat cycle come over him. He couldn’t sleep, his mind an endless stream of thoughts and memories of nights spent with Aether. Hands tangled in hair and slick with sweat and spit as their bodies melded together. He tried so hard to get himself off with just his hands but he just couldn’t. He needed Aether. Dew got dressed as quickly as possible, biting back a moan when he felt his erection strain against his pants, and went out in search of his favourite ghoul.

He stalked through the almost empty hallways, avoiding eye contact with the occasional sibling that passed him and peering into doorways and alcoves where the ghouls stood. Due to the nature of the church they weren’t exactly popular among certain crowds, so they’d had their fair share of break ins and trespassers over the years. Sister Imperator liked to keep their biggest, strongest ghouls where people could see them as a deterrent even if they hadn’t had any intrusions in a long time. Dewdrop eventually found Aether by one of the garden entrances, underneath one of the covered walkways that connected the sprawling wings of the abbey.

Aether jumped when Dew came up behind him and placed his hands on his arms, giving his biceps a playful squeeze.

“Fucking hell Dewdrop! You scared the shit outta me, I thought you were a burglar or something.”

“Aeth, calm down, no one’s tried to break into this place in years. Besides, what kinda burglar feels up the security guy?”

Now that he was facing the other ghoul Aether could sense Dewdrop’s heat coming off of him in waves, each one hitting him like a slap in the face. He fisted his hands at his sides to keep himself from grabbing Dew and ruining him right there in full view of the abbey. He could feel his own heat approaching and Dewdrop was only serving to speed up its arrival.

“That doesn’t matter, I need to be on the lookout.” He forced himself to look away from the fire ghoul, he didn’t know what Imperator’s punishment for slacking off was and he was reluctant to find out. But that crackling firewood scent of Dewdrop’s heat was so frustratingly enticing and it had been so long since he’d last had a good fuck.

“C’mon Aeth, I know what you’d rather be doing right now.” Dewdrop reached up to toy with the lapels of Aether’s jacket, twisting the button from side to side before looking up into his eyes. Aether couldn’t say no to him. Not with the way he was looking at him or how his heat demanded his attention. Aether grabbed him, tilting their heads at an awkward angle to accommodate their masks as he captured his lips in a furious kiss. Dew groaned a little with the rough way Aether handled him, pushing the smaller ghoul up against one of the stone pillars.

“You missed me too, huh?” Dewdrop breathed when Aether finally pulled away, his chest heaving with shallow breaths.

“So fucking much.”

Read the full fic here!

[johnkrrasinski]

baby, just say yes

full masterlist

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 3,324

Warning: fluff!! pure feelings, inaccurate depiction of middle-age relationships (?)

Summary: inspired by taylor swift’s “love story” and a bit of bridgerton. james barnes was the son of your father’s rival. what happens when two star-crossed lovers fell in love? will their love conquer their families’ bad blood?

a/n: in honour of taylor releasing re-recorded version of love story, i wanted to write something inspired by it because i’m a sucker for fairytales (HA!) i wanted to post this on valentine’s day but it turned out to be longer than i planned. also, bridgerton might have influenced some of my writing. so enjoy! reblogs and comments are always appreciated. :)

The party was in full swing as the music enlivened the masquerade revellers in ball gowns and fancy suits. You stepped into the party in your best dress with your hair half pinned up in braids. You wore your fulgent jewellery proudly, not caring what anyone thought of your confidence. As the daughter of an aristocratic family, you never once had to worry about fortune or popularity. Your father was a powerful man and everyone knew and worshipped the ground you walked on. But really, you were smart enough to know that these people were merely a bunch of bootlickers. They wished to get close to you for your wealth and repute.

The ball that was held by your father bored you. You never really liked any of his associates. You were a naturally an introvert, you preferred to be alone in your room and read books or be with your dog. However, keeping up a good appearance, well your father’s appearance, was necessary to maintain the family’s name. So you had no choice but to get up, get ready and show your face.

You greeted one of your cousins, Bella, who had come all the way from France. She looked dazzling as always. She hoped to meet a rich husband in one of these balls, but none of them had been captivated by her enough to get down on one knee. Somehow, they always turned their heads to you even when you never displayed any interest in marrying any time soon.

People were chatting, laughing and drinking left and right, some were on the hunt for a match. A few men had come up to you and asked for a dance, you always came up with a reason to dodge them. So you ran to the nearest table to get a glass of champagne. A bit of alcohol could soothe your nerves.

And then, as if the world stopped moving and time froze. A man with short dark hair and navy blue velvet suit made an entrance to the ball. He folded his hands behind him and his walk displayed confidence and power. You couldn't see his entire face for he was wearing a mask but even with only half of his face was shown, you could already tell how handsome he was. The scruff on his lower face added to his sex appeal and there was a mysterious way about him.

He walked further into the ball until his eyes found yours, and it was like the butterflies in your stomach had been possessed. He boldly made his way towards you until you were standing face to face. You could make out his features more clearly now from this proximity. You couldn't help but instantly noticed his eyes; how translucent it was, not only in the colour but also the way it spoke to your soul wordlessly. And the blue in them made you think that God created him and inspired the ocean to seize the colour. And his smell was intoxicating. He had a masculine scent to him, filling up your thoughts with obscene scenarios. It piqued your curiosity about the man behind the mask.

You were a respected woman despite your age. Not only because of your family’s power but also because you carved out your image as this ‘untouchable, implausible’ lady to any man. It would take a true magnetic man to charm you and so far, you haven't crossed paths with one yet…. Until tonight.

He broke the silence first by greeting you, “hello there, milady. Quite a warm night, isn’t it?” Oh, how his voice was making you feel things you’d never felt before. Is this what love at first sight felt like?

“Yes, milord. It truly is.” You replied in a calm manner despite the hurricane inside you.

The orchestras began playing a lively tune, inviting men and women to pair up and dance. He held out his hand for you, “may I have this dance, milady?”

He led you to the centre of the ballroom. He stood in line with other men facing their partners. They bowed their heads and so did you with other women. They held out their hands for their partners to take and began putting their hands on their partners’ shoulders and waists.

You held your breath as he laid his hand on your skin, closing the distance between the two of you. He began to take the lead as your feet were moving in sync, trying not to step on him. You had taken dancing classes before but you almost never danced in the ballroom, so you were a little nervous about forgetting the lessons you had learned in front of this beautiful man.

“I never caught your name, milady.”

“I never caught yours either.” You snarked.

“I asked you first, milady,” the smirk on his face showed his amusement.

You chuckled, “My name’s y/n.”

“Such a lovely name for a lovely lady.”

“Oh, please. Cut the coquetry, milord. Plenty of men have told me that before.”

“Oh, have they?”

The choreography made you switch partners and you danced with this stranger. He looked delighted to have a chance with you but you merely smiled politely at him, until they switched back to your previous partners.

“Did that man tell you the same thing?”

“No, but I could tell from his expression that if we had danced a little longer, he would’ve found a synonymous flattery for me.”

“Are you used to having men throw themselves at your feet?”

“Yes, milord. I eat it for breakfast.”

You danced with him a little bit more until he spoke a hushed tone, “this party bores me. Would you like to meet me in the garden once this dance is over?”

“That would be splendid.”

The dance was finished and you bowed to each other and he kissed your gloved hand. “I’ll see you in the garden in 10 minutes.” He walked past by you, brushing your shoulder with his. You turned your head in his direction, deciding whether you should hold onto your words or not. But without much thinking, you took a glass of champagne and then snuck out, avoiding your parents’ scrutiny.

You found him standing there with his hands behind his back in the middle of the garden where flowers surrounded him, making the sight seem romantic. “Are you expecting someone, milord?”

“Not anymore,” he smiled. “I’ve persuaded you into a clandestine meeting, seems like I am winning the game.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, milord. I sneak out to the garden every day. Which reminds me, I didn’t quite catch your name back there.”

“My name’s James, milady. But, you may call me Bucky.”

Your furrowed your brows in a questioning look, “Bucky?”

“Yes. My mother bestowed me that nickname and the people that are closest to me call me Bucky.”

“Hm, is this another of your flattery that I get to call you ‘Bucky’?

“Yes, milady. I don’t take a lot of women to the gardens as well, so you could say you’re pretty special.”

“Let’s see how tonight goes and I will know.”

You and James talked some more. He told you stories about his family and you told him about yours. He also opened up about how his mother died. Though he looked dejected while telling stories about her, most of the times he was charming, with and clever, making you feel at ease in his company. You had met plenty of men but none of them had made you feel as comfortable as James did. He made you laugh several times with his jokes and you exchanged thoughts about social issues such as marriage, love, children with him. You always thought you’d never marry or perhaps you’d marry in your thirties or forties but it seems as if your heart is tossing away those ideas.

You were really enjoying your time with him that there was a moment where it was just the crickets and your soft breaths. You laid your head on his shoulder as his warmth engulfed you. You nearly fell asleep until the voice of your father disrupted your moment. “Y/N!” The sounds of footsteps were approaching and then your father’s incensed face came to view. “Y/N! What do you think you are doing?!”

“Father, calm down, I was merely promenading with James.”

“Milord, forgive me. I asked for your daughter to meet me in this garden. Please, don’t rebuke her.”

“You shut your mouth, young man. I know who you are and I would never let you lay a hand on my daughter, ever again. You should be ashamed o yourself.”

“Father, what are you so furious about?”

“Don’t you know who he is, y/n?!”

“No, who is he?” You looked at James then back to your father. James looked shocked at the intrusion.

“He is the son of that bastard, George Barnes. I had told you many stories about the lies and betrayals they did years ago. I would never forget them.” Your father enunciated those words as he stared into James’ eyes.

“Is that true?”

James looked doubtful, “yes.”

You felt dizzy. The first man that had truly captured your heart was the son of your families’ number one rival. It was as if the world didn’t like the idea of you finding love.

“Y/N, I swear, on my mother’s grave that I didn’t know. I didn’t know you were-”

“You stay away from my daughter! Do you hear me? If I ever see you anywhere near her, I will kill you with my own hands.” You father grabbed your hand then dragged you back to your carriage where your mother had been waiting for you both.

You tried to free yourself out of your father’s grip but it was to no avail. You looked back at James who was still standing there one last time before the carriage took you away. You cried all the way home.

-

It’s been three days since the debacle in the garden. You didn’t regret one thing about your feelings, but you blamed the universe for the circumstances. Out of all the people in the world, why must the man that you’d been waiting for was the one you couldn’t be with?

You missed James. You missed the warmth of being in his arms, the gentleness in his eyes and the way his voice soothed you. You wanted to see him more than anything but since that night, you begged your parents to let you see James, you fought tooth and nail to make your father change his mind, but all you got was being locked in your room after you threatened them to run away from home. They even went as far as hiring a guard to stand in front of your bedroom all day.

You sat by your window, looking up at the moon in your nightgown, wondering if James was thinking of you too until your reverie was disrupted by a knocking sound on your window. You instantly looked down to see what was the cause and the sight before you blew away the dark clouds above your head. James Barnes was standing below, with pebbles in his hand.

He smiled when you saw your face and you opened your windows, “James! What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you, of course. Are you able to come down?”

“I’ll try, but be quite okay? Don’t let anyone see you.”

You opened the lock of your door as quietly as possible. It was nearing 2 AM and the guard was snoring in his seat. You minded your steps like a ninja, not wanting to cause any noise. You held your breath when he stirred in his sleep but he thankfully he didn’t wake up. So you sprinted downstairs under the darkness of your mansion.

You quietly unlocked the door of the main entrance and immediately ran to the backyard, where James was waiting for you.

“James!” You shrieked. The joy in his face was palpable, so did yours. You ran to him, lifting your nightgown so you wouldn’t stumble and jumped on him and he caught you.

“I’ve missed you, princess,” James whispered breathily while hiding his face in your shoulder.

“I’ve missed you too. How did you know where I live?”

“I got connections. I’ve spent the last three days endlessly thinking of you.”

“I haven’t thought of anything else other than you too, James.”

He smiled then kissed you deeply, pouring all his longing in the last three days for you.

James took you to the outskirts of the town and you walked hand in hand, wandering around in the night. You talked about the history of your families and how your father wouldn’t let you go out alone knowing that you would try to see him and he told his father about you and what went down in the garden. You sighed, knowing that there was no chance for you and James to be together but then a fleeting thought came.

“Let’s run away,” you recklessly uttered.

“What?” James heard every word you said, he was just taken aback by what it meant.

“Let’s just… Get out of here. We can leave at midnight, I’ll pack up my things and we can be together.”

“Y/N, we can’t.”

“Why?” You were exasperated. “Don’t you wanna be with me, James?”

“I do, however, I can’t do that to you, my love. It’s too dangerous. Your father is a powerful man, I can’t imagine what he would do to us both if he found out.”

“We can, we just have to be careful! C’mon James, I’ve felt so alone my whole life until I met you. I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

“You won’t, darling. I promise you. I’ve got plans, okay? You just need to trust me.”

“Okay, I trust you.”

-

It had been a week since you last saw James and you were losing faith every day. You had no clue of what James was planning to do. You trusted him but you wished he had been more clear of his intentions. Now, all you could do was wait for him in silence, unable to do anything, like a kite in the wind.

“You haven’t touched your food, dear. Is everything alright?” Your mother asked from across the dining table.

“Yes, mother. I am simply not famished.”

“Eat some of your food, will you? I’d hate to see you ill.”

You wished you could sneak behind your father to vent to your mother about your feelings for James, however, you knew that your mother was loyal to your father and there was no secret between them. You used to hope that one day if you’d ever find a husband, you would have the same foundation in your marriage as your parents had, now you would be delighted if they announced their divorce so you could be free from your father.

The majordomo interrupted your dinner by informing that you had a couple of guests. By the look on your father’s face, you could tell that he wasn’t expecting any tonight, but he got up to welcome whoever was waiting outside anyway.

You heard your father’s booming voice from the dining table and you and your mother exchanged glances. You instantly followed him to see what was going on.

“You dare to show your face here after I’ve warned you of staying away from my family!”

And you stopped in your tracks when you saw James standing next to an older man facing your father. “James…”

“Y/N…” Without a second thought, you ran to him, wanting to hold and kiss him more than anything. For a second there, you forgot everyone was watching. But your father caught you and your guard held you back.

“Let go of me!”

“Now I want you out of my land and never to return or there will be a huge consequence.”

“I am here to make peace. My son told me about your daughter and I wasn’t keen on the idea of uniting our families but I am willing to try for him. Let’s end this bad blood between us, Robert. We shall not let our children suffer simply because of our pride.”

“I’d rather die than to let my your bastard of a son touch my daughter.” Your father gritted through his teeth. “Now leave or you will be removed forcibly.” Your father turned around but before he could close the door on them, James stopped him.

“I’m in love with your daughter, Sir Y/L/N.” That stopped your father in his tracks. “I have met many women yet, I have never felt this way for anyone,” James gazed into your eyes.

“In the last two weeks I have known her, I have learned that you raised a bright, courageous, loving, beautiful woman,” he paused, as if he was trying to show you the sincerity behind his confession. You didn’t realize tears have welled up in your eyes.

“From the very moment I saw her in that ball, I knew I’d live in regret if I didn’t catch her name before I leave. Your daughter stood out like a diamond in the dirt and it was an honour to held her hand while dancing. It was an honour knowing her. And it would be an honour to have her by my side until the end of my life,” He paused. “I know I am undeserving of your daughter but I will never let her doubt that she is loved and she deserves everything good I could offer.”

A single tear cascaded down your cheek. “So, Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?” He moved closer toward you, and your father was left speechless by James’ words. James got down on his knee and presented a velvet box with a gleaming diamond ring inside it.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes, thousand times yes.” James put the ring on your finger and you jumped on him and he caught you. For a minute there you forgot that there was still an unresolved animosity between your families, though your mother had a huge smile on her face and she nearly teared up at the sight of her daughter being so in love. George Barnes was smiling ear to ear as well, looking so proud of his son.

He thought that with his son’s reputation of being a rake, he would never settle. But he finally found his match and though he didn’t take it so pleasantly at first, James talked it out to him and George learned to be happy and accept it. George recalled the moment he fell in love with Winnifred, she didn’t come from an aristocratic family. She was merely a singer and his family didn’t approve but he opposed them and married her anyway until they had James. George also hoped that their marriage could end the bad blood between him and your father.

James set you back on the floor and you looked at your father. “Father? I love him and I may never fall in love again. Please, let me be with him. If you love me, you won’t stand in the way.” Your father was baffled, but the resentment in his eyes had softened. “Do you really want to spend the rest of your life waiting for me to find someone to marry and keeping enemies? I’m marrying him whether you approve or not. But I wouldn’t want you to be absent from my wedding.”

Your father sighed, “are you happy?”

“More than I have ever been.”

“Then I suppose, I shall put my pride aside for the one person I love the most in the world.”

“Thank you, father.” You hugged him and he kissed the top of your head.

You grew up being cynical toward fairytales, but for once in your life, you believe that you have found your fairytale ending.

[litafficionado]

Four Questions with Garielle Lutz:

I’m extremely beholden to Garielle who took the time to respond to my silly, garbled, childish, intrusive questions. You can purchase her latest book Worsted here and here, among many other sites.  --------- Q.  You've attributed the resuscitation of your literary career in quite considerable measure to your teacher and editor Gordon Lish. It seems like you guys are particularly close, even as you seem to have largely confined yourself to Pittsburgh(mostly driven by your erstwhile teaching career but also by your liking the city over time). How does it feel to hear someone like Gordon speak so highly of you, “I think there’s more truth in one sentence of my student [Lutz] than in all of [Philip] Roth. Lutz gives [herself] away. “The speaking subject gives herself away,” says Julia Kristeva. I thoroughly believe that. What you see in Lutz, [her] lavish gift, is [her] refusal to relax [her] determination to uncover and uncover. It is, by my lights, quite wonderful, quite terrific.[…]Lutz is entirely the real thing?” Does one feel vindicated? How do you navigate the waters of self-effacement and self-indulgence as a writer and as a person? A.  I haven’t had a literary career before or after studying with Gordon Lish.  I don’t think one finds one’s way to him in hopes of launching a career.  Anyone with vulgar ambition along those lines would have been shown the door pretty quick.  I would never presume to be close to Gordon or to feel that I am part of his life other than in my role as a student. He dwells in another realm entirely. I attended his classes and tried to grasp, to the best of my abilities, the things he was saying about how to get from one word to the next.  He also talked about how to free a word from the constricting range of its permissible behaviors, how to drain it of every sepsis of received meaning, until there is nothing left of the word but the skeleton of its former self, just the lank, gawky letters sticking out this way and that, and then how to fill the thing up again, to the point of overspilling, but this time with something that would never have been allowed to belong in there before, and then see whether the word, now close to bursting, can hold up and maybe have a new kind of say.  I’m always surprised and relieved whenever Gordon says anything approving about anything I write.  I think that for a lot of his students, his opinion is the only one that counts.  

Q.  You've said, "A typical day goes like this: noon, afternoon, evening, night, additional night, even more night, furtherest night, then bedtime, though I don’t have a bed or furniture of any kind.” Have you always been a lychnobite, sensing the overwhelming superabundance of life after the sunset or is it a relatively recent development facilitated by your retirement from teaching? Do you consider yourself in any way to be a minimalist? Does your room bear any resemblance with a sparsely lit opium den where all exchanges happen at the floor level?

A.  I think the pandemic has had a lot to do with it.  Lately I’ve been up until five, sometimes six.  But I’ve always found mornings the harshest and ugliest part of the day (maybe it’s just because of the place where I live, but I never open the blinds anyway).  There can be something awfully scolding about a sunrise the older you get  Evening seems to extend every form of leniency, and in the dead of night, expectations go way down, which is where they maybe ought to stay.  I do spend all of my time on the floor, but my apartment doesn’t bear any resemblance to an opium den.  It’s more like a crawlspace or the back of a  dollar-store stockroom.    

Q. Even with your reputation of being a page-hugger than a typical page-turner, how do you decide which books to read apart from your line of work? Do you try to keep it largely in the familiar territory, like exploring the oeuvre of a time-tested writer? How does one unshackle oneself from this constant niggling that one ought to read so many books? Here's Ben Marcus: “When I was in graduate school, there was this sort of cautionary adage going around by the poet Francis Ponge that we can only write what we’ve already read and one way to hear that is you’re just sort of doomed to kind of regurgitate everything you’ve read and so if you’re just reading all the popular books, the books everyone else is reading, in some sense you’re maybe unwittingly confining yourself to a particular literary practice that’s gonna look pretty familiar. I remember at the time thinking, okay well if that’s true, if I’m just fated to that, then I’m gonna read things that no one else is reading. I loved to just go to the library and pretty randomly grab books, because I think for a little while, and I’m kinda glad this passed, but I really just had this feeling that a writer just consumes language and just sort of spits it out. So it didn’t matter. Like it didn’t have to be a great novel for it to be worth-reading. And I still read very little fiction in the end compared to non-fiction, essays, works of philosophy, science. And the other sort of dirty secret is: I don’t finish a lot of books. I just don’t care enough. I only finish a book if I have to or if I really want to. And, often, I’ll stop reading a book three pages from the end. I think that as writers, we probably feel a lot of pressure about what kind of a reader to be, what kind of a writer to be in, and we feel this shame, like “I haven’t read DH Lawrence, I’m such an asshole.” You begin to feel like you’ve these deficiencies and you gotta make them up and you never will and a lot of it is just kinda tyrannical. Of course, obviously, we must be naturally motivated to read and read and read and read but I guess I just started to notice that…I got a lot of my ideas by just reading…e.g. a gardening book…like the weird way a sentence was structured.” Then there's Moyra Davey: “Woolf famously said of reading: “The only advice … is to take no advice, … follow your instincts, … use your reason.” A similar thought was voiced by her elder contemporary Oscar Wilde, who did not believe in recommending books, only in de-recommending them. Later, Jorge Luis Borges echoed the same sentiment by discouraging “systematic bibliographies” in favor of “adulterous” reading. More recently, Gregg Bordowitz has promoted “promiscuous” reading in which you impulsively allow an “imposter” book to overrule any reading trajectory you might have set for yourself, simply because, for instance, a friend tells you in conversation that he is reading it and is excited by it. This evokes for me that most potent kind of reading — reading as flirtation with or eavesdropping on someone you love or desire, someone who figures in your fantasy life.”“What to read?” is a recurring dilemma in my life. The question always conjures up an image: a woman at home, half-dressed, moving restlessly from room to room, picking up a book, reading a page or two and no sooner feeling her mind drift, telling herself, “You should be reading something else, you should be doing something else.” The image also has a mise-en-scène: overstuffed, disorderly shelves of dusty and yellowing books, many of them unread; books in piles around the bed or faced down on a table; work prints of photographs, also with a faint covering of dust, taped to the walls of the studio; a pile of bills; a sink full of dishes. She is trying to concentrate on the page in front of her but a distracting blip in her head travels from one desultory scene to the next, each one competing for her attention. It is not just a question of which book will absorb her, for there are plenty that will do that, but rather, which book, in a nearly cosmic sense, will choose her, redeem her. Often what is at stake, should she want to spell it out, is the idea that something is missing, as in: what is the crucial bit of urgently needed knowledge that will save her, at least for this day? She has the idea that if she can simply plug into the right book then all will be calm, still, and right with the world. […] Must reading be tied to productivity to be truly satisfying […] Or is it the opposite, that it can only really gratify if it is a total escape? What is it that gives us a sense of sustenance and completion? Are we on some level always striving to attain that blissful state of un-agendaed reading remembered from childhood? What does it mean to spend a good part of one’s life absorbed in books? Given that our time is limited, the problem of reading becomes one of exclusion. Why pick one book over the hundreds, perhaps thousands on our bookshelves, the further millions in libraries and stores? For in settling on any book we are implicitly saying no to countless others. This conflict is aptly conjured up by essayist Lynne Sharon Schwartz as she reflects on “the many books (the many acts) I cannot in all decency leave unread (undone) — or can I?”” What way out do you suggest? Do you deem it worthwhile to eschew any shred of obligation and be propelled in any direction naturally? Like you said you found grammar books and lexicons more engaging and enjoyable than the novels.

A.  I seem to remember that in some magazine or another, James Wolcott once said “Read at whim.”  That has always sounded like the best advice.  And I assume it means to feel free to ditch any book that disappoints.  Like Ben Marcus, I’ve had experiences of abandoning a book just a few pages from the end, but I often don’t make it that far in most things anymore.  I came from a long line of nonreaders, so I’ve never felt any guilt about passing up books or writers that so many people seem to talk about a lot, and I don’t expect other people to like what I like. Some books I’ll start about halfway in and then see whether I might want to work my way back to the beginning.  Others I’ll start at the very end and inch my way toward the front, one sentence at a time, and see how far I can go that way.  I seem to remember that in The Pleasure of the Text, Roland Barthes recommends “cruising” a text, and maybe something like that is what I’m doing at least some of the time, if I understand what he means.  And every now and then I’ll read  a book straightforwardly for an hour and afterward wonder whether the time might have been better spent staring off into space. Too many books these days seem ungiving.  It’s the ungivingness that disappoints the most.  A lot of contemporary fiction has the gleam and sparkle of a trend feature in a glossy magazine, and I can appreciate the craft and the savvy that go into something like that, but I am drawn more toward stories and books that demand being read slowly and closely, pulse by pulse, the kind of fiction where everything--what little might be left of an entire blighted life--can pivot on the peal of a single syllable. Q.  I'd like to ask you so many questions. But let this be the last one for matters of convenience. Also, in a capitalistic world, one's enshrouded with guilt for taking one's time without being remunerative in any way. Among the books and films that you recently encountered, which ones do you think deserve rereads/rewatches? A.  I used to feel like the woman you’ve described so movingly above, someone who questions her choice of books almost to the brink of despair.  At my age, though, I no longer have a program for reading, a syllabus or a checklist, and I’m okay with knowing there’s a lot I’ll never get around to.  I’m happy being a rereader of a few inexhaustible books and chancing upon occasional fresh treasure.  The one book that has shaken me the most in the longest time is Anna DeForest’s  A History of Present Illness, which will be out next August.  It’s a blisteringly truthful novel written with moral grace and unsettling brilliance and an awing mastery of language.  A couple of recent books I have read in manuscript, books that totally knocked me out with their originality and uncanny command of the word, are Greg Gerke’s In the Suavity of the Rock (a novel) and David Nutt’s Summertime in the Emergency Room (a short-story collection).  I haven’t watched many movies in the past few months, and the ones I watched aren’t ones I’ll probably be rewatching anytime soon.  

[haleigh-sloth]

Prediction for Hawks

I’ve been having a lot of thoughts regarding the two most recent chapters of BNHA so I can’t help but go on little rants here and there. 

So I’m going to preface this with: I have no opinions of Hawks--neither negative nor positive. He’s never really stood out to me as a character--I guess because he really hasn’t been all that important up until now. Hawks is a super popular character and I’ve seen people get legitimately upset when they come across negative opinions of him--which you can react how you want but don’t go taking it out on people who disagree with you (like I’ve had a couple of times for simply saying I don’t care about Hawks). So anyway, this is basically what I expect for Hawks for the rest of the story:

Hawks looks up to Endeavor, right? Hawks was a child in an abusive household who was “saved” by Endeavor. The thing, Endeavor didn’t catch Hawks’s father with Hawks in mind. He probably didn’t even know about Keigo Takami’s existence when he caught Takami Thief. That doesn’t mean he didn’t save Hawks, he did, but he did it indirectly, as a result of just doing his job--catching criminals. That being said it makes total sense that Hawks would look up to Endeavor--that’s not an issue with his character, at least at first. As we saw in ch. 299, it becomes an issue here:

The thing about this panel is: Hawks is wrong. Hawks is making assumptions, and we as readers KNOW those assumptions are wrong. We know that the Todoroki family is still in shambles, for lack of a better word. And what exactly is Hawks basing this assumption off of? This little memory he has of Shoto looking at his father? How does that indicate that nothing is wrong? It doesn’t. Hawks is seeing what he wants to see. How do we know this? Because we as readers know the truth. Touya, Shoto, and Rei were all chronically abused. Natsuo and Fuyumi were chronically neglected. Hawks doesn’t know this. I actually wonder if Hawks knew that Rei was in a hospital--honestly probably not, which makes this even worse for him. 

The thing is, Hawks is clinging onto the Endeavor he knew (or THOUGHT he knew), which is normal. Hawks did not have a great start in life, and it was turned around when Endeavor got involved--it’s only natural to associate a positive turn of events with the person indirectly responsible for such turn (whether you want to consider being raised by the HPSC a good thing or not is up to you, I’d say it’s at least step up from his past situation). So now what? Hawks isn’t changing his mind on his view of Endeavor, despite being very, very wrong about him (we as readers know he is wrong). This is a set up for something...not good. Horikoshi made it clear to us that Hawks does not know the Todoroki situation as well as he thinks he does, and it’s pretty obvious that he plans to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong:

I’m not Hawks’s intentions are bad. They aren’t! Hawks genuinely thinks he is going to help Endeavor, which means his intentions really are good for the most part. We can’t know for sure what he plans to do, but I think it’s safe to say: Hawks will be going after Touya. 

The problem here is that, Hawks is not viewing Touya as Endeavor’s son. He is viewing Touya as Dabi: The Villain who has it out for Endeavor. “Endeavor is in trouble”--how? How is Endeavor in trouble? His career? How is Hawks going to help with that? He can’t, the damage is done. His life being in danger? Now there Hawks can step in, Hawks can prevent Endeavor’s “death by Dabi” by getting involved and going after Dabi before he comes back for Endeavor. Now chapter 300 is out and we know that Endeavor does now have the same viewpoint as Hawks regarding Touya:

Hawks says “Endeavor is in trouble” while Enji says “Endeavor is dead”. Hawks refers to Touya as “Dabi” while Enji refers to him as his son, also while having a not-so-pretty flashback to the damage he really caused Touya as a child. Also I don’t think I should need to say this but some people are not understanding that a CHILD RIPPING OUT THEIR HAIR is NOT NORMAL. That is NOT a normal response to a stressful situation. We still don’t know the details of Touya’s childhood, but based on this panel alone I can assume some of the future chapters with Touya’s backstory are going to get really hard to read and difficult to look at, because I think it’s clear Horikoshi has something really dark prepared regarding Touya and what drove him to ultimately run away from home, while erasing his identity and removing himself from his family’s lives. The fact that Endeavor pretty much blocked out the negative memories he has of Touya is a telltale sign that it’s clearly something he wants to forget. I’m preparing myself for some really insidious content in the near future. 

Back to Hawks: I believe Hawks is going to get burned (literally and figuratively). He’s going to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong by forcefully “helping” someone who 

1. Doesn’t need it and 

2. Never asked for it. 

As a result, Enji will probably “turn on him”, meaning, he’s not going to agree with his actions and this will probably blindside Hawks. To Hawks, he’s being helpful, supporting his childhood hero. To Enji, he’s interfering and preventing the reunification of his family. As for whether Hawks DIES or not, I really can’t say. Death in BNHA is very uncommon, even for the villains. Twice’s death was meant to be viewed as tragic and unnecessary, meaning that for the rest of the story, I think it’s safe to say there won’t be anymore villain deaths. As for the heroes, nobody IMPORTANT has died. Midnight was the closest to being important, but really she wasn’t important to the overall story, she just happened to have some screen time. But yeah, idk about Hawks dying--he gets compared to Icarus a lot and I definitely see that, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he did end up dying, especially after his inevitable intrusion on the Todoroki business. I do NOT think any Todoroki will kill him, but his involvement in their business is not going to end well for him--because while his intentions may be good, they are wrong. 

I am not saying Hawks is a bad person/character/whatever, or that I hope he dies. I think he might die for the sake of having some drama toward the end (maybe?) but I also think it’s very possible he won’t because, well, death is just not a common thing in this story. 

[purplesurveys]

1279

Are you and the last person you kissed in a relationship or just friends?  I don’t keep contact.

Has anyone ever pointed out that your laugh was unusual?  Hmmmm, I don’t think so. I feel like that would be the type of comment that would get to me so I definitely would’ve remembered it.

Would you get a lip piercing?  I don’t plan on getting any piercings.

Nose piercing?  Nopes.

What are you currently waiting for?  For this fucking day to end so I can be closer to Thursday and to the weekend.

Do you have feelings for anyone?  Nah.

Have you ever run over an animal?  Nope. I’ve had extremely close calls with animals who suddenly dart into the road, but fortunately these have all been situations wherein I got to hit the brakes with nobody behind me.

Have you chewed gum after someone else already has?  That’s disgusting, no.

When people sneeze do you say ‘bless you’?  Sure, out of habit and just to be polite.

When was the last time you were on a bouncy castle?  I don’t think I’ve ever been on a bouncy castle, but I’ve been on a lot of bouncy other things haha, like inflatable slides, soccer balls, Anpanmans, etc. The last time would probably be a nearly a decade ago; I definitely haven’t been near one in a while.

Have you ever went on a bouncy castle whilst drunk?  Well no, because the ones I’ve been on were situated in school fairs, which is the last place I would want to be drunk in.

Have you ever entered an art competition?  No, I have no justification to join one haha.

What is one thing you will never do? Try hardcore drugs. < Same. 

What is one food that you detest?  Pineapples.

Did you have a rebellious phase growing up?  Yeah I was a bit of a handful to raise, but I’m in firm in my stance that it had a lot to do with the way I was raised. I grew up mostly without a father figure because my dad worked abroad and I felt neglected by my mom who had her own shit to deal with. There was no stable support system to lean on, so I ended up lashing out a lot in my puberty years. Unfortunately everyone else just saw a rebellious child and not a plea for help.

These days when I show off my achievements on social media, I’ll see congratulatory comments from my mom’s friends and she’ll usually go on about some “late bloomers grow with time” narrative and it pisses me off because nobody knows how much I’ve had to grow and mature and learn how to be happier all by myself, all from scratch. If I had just received the proper care and attention early on, I wouldn’t have had to do any catching up to begin with.

What religion were you brought up with? Roman Catholic.

Are you still that religion?  Jesus no. I darted out of there as soon as I gained the consciousness to think about these sorts of things.

Do you often find yourself questioning your future?  Sometimes, but I do my best to not let it get to me.

How many friends do you have on Facebook?  Over 670.

What sort of music did you listen to when you were in high school?  I started with punk rock in the first half of high school, so I had my Rancids, H2Os, Against Me!s, Cro-Mags, etc on my iPod. It evolved a little bit towards more indie, folksy sounds towards the latter half - Banks, alt-J, Hozier, Twenty One Pilots - which I largely attribute to the crowd I was part of at the time.

What pet names do you use with your significant other?  I’m pretty straightforward so baby works out for me. Other, more specific pet names just grow naturally with the relationship, I think.

What’s the name of the store you usually get your groceries?  S&R.

Have you ever seen a theatre show?  Yeah. Most of them have been required.

What’s your favourite vegetable?  Broccoli or bell peppers.

Have you ever missed a flight?  Never. I’ve experienced several delayed flights, though, which is always such a hassle especially if the delays happen in provincial airports since they never have any recreational offers to keep passengers from getting bored other than TVs that run the same damn five ads.

Do your neighbours have any pets? Have you ever met them?  Yeah, a lot of have dogs. I’ve met some.

What color is your bedroom door?  Brown.

If you were ever to become famous, would you grow annoyed at fans?  Only towards obsessive ones who wouldn’t give me time to breathe or would go so far so as to stalk me or my loved ones. But I am a fan too, so I imagine I would actually be understanding of those who would ask for pictures or whatever as long as they were polite and not at all intrusive.

Have you ever met your favourite band/singer?  Nah. I am terrified of meeting celebrities HAHA so I’ve always shut down the chance. I’m pretty sure I would actually turn down the chance to meet BTS if I hypothetically suddenly got the magic keys to that door.

Are you embarrassed by any of the songs/singers/bands you like?  No. I feel like that sort of thing just happens in like high school, when your friends are still a bit judgmental. Nowadays I don’t see why I should be embarrassed of anything I like, especially if it’s not hurting anyone.

Have you ever written a story?  I’ve made attempts but was always terrible.

Think of the last poem you wrote: What inspired you to write it?  My homework that required me to write said poem hahaha.

Do you have a chance with the person you like right now? 

What’s the weirdest thing you were scared of as a child?  Watching commercials at night. It’s still a slight fear of mine but it’s mostly dissipated now.

Are there any embarrassing stories your family tells about you?  About me? No. I don’t have a lot of those since I was a really shy kid who barely moved a finger anyway.

In your opinion, what is the funniest TV show?  I have a *really* soft spot for Perfect Strangers, which I actually revisited yesterday :) The show was never super popular so it’s near impossible to find clips online, but when I checked YouTube I did see a slight increase in short snippets from the show so I had a really fun time binge-watching yesterday.

What is the maximum number of children you’d ever have?  Three, but that’s pushing it. Ideally, I’d have two so my first would have company.

Have you ever been concerned you had a serious illness?  Mental ones, yes.

Are you comfortable with who you are?  For the most part, yes.

Would you date someone even if you knew you’d get made fun of for it?  No. Why would it be any of their business?

Does popularity matter to you at all?  I mean, yeah in the sense that I honestly aspire to be well-liked by as many people as possible. But I don’t necessarily want to rub shoulders with popular kids.

Would you ever consider homeschooling your children?  Continued from sometime this week ider. No. I don’t think I’m capable of teaching, and generally I’d want them to be able to learn in a more open environment where they can have regular contact with different kinds of people.

Who told you about the band/singer you are currently listening to?  Well Angela got into them first and since we’re best friends, there was a certain point where she just decided to loop me into conversations that involved them. I was impossible to sway for a long time, but then one day a video compilation of them showed up on my feed, and for some reason I actually watched it, and I watched all the way through, and I was immediately intrigued – particularly by J-Hope haha. I then asked Angela to tell me more about them and the rest was...financially irresponsible history HAHAHAHA

Do you ever read fanfiction?  OMG yes. Funny you should mention that because my favorite author uploaded a brand new fic this morning, which I obviously couldn’t get to all day because I had to go to work. I’ll be reading it in all its 44,000-word glory tonight :D

Would you rather die in a plane crash, ship wreck or fire?  Plane crash. Instant and mostly painless.

What are your top five favourite TV shows?  Breaking Bad, BoJack Horseman, Friends, The Crown even though I was never able to continue it since...andddd that’s all I got.

What is your favorite superhero movie?  Not a fan of superhero movies.

If you died next week, what would be the cause of death?  Stress from overworking. I’ve FINALLY started to consider taking a leave for the first time this year because I’ve just realized just how fucking exhausted, burned out, and overwhelmed I actually already am from having no rest at all in the last 13 months.

Have you ever taken a break from Facebook or other social media? Why?  Yes, I do mass deactivations when I’m severely depressed. These days I can’t really afford to that anymore, though, since my work is closely tied to social media.

Who is the most talented person you know?  Probably Andi.

Are you currently platonic friends with anyone you’ve had sex with?  No.

Where did you and your current interest go on your first date? 

Have you ever experienced two people fighting over you (physically or mentally)? What happened?  Nah. I’ve had two people like me at the same time, but there was never any tension to watch out for since they mostly didn’t know each other.

Have your parents ever thought you were gay? What happened?  I think they know I dated Gabie and that we broke up because they’ve stopped asking about her. Everyone knew we were best friends, so the fact that they’ve avoided her as a topic for a whole year is able to tell me something.

Are your parents more liberal or conservative?  Dad’s on the liberal side, mom dances around on the spectrum a little bit. I know she’s fine with things like tattoos and having LGBTQ+ co-workers, but she’s also conservative especially towards matters like religion.

What year are you going into at the beginning of the next academic year?  No longer in school.

How far away does your closest family member live?  A few footsteps away.

If you’ve seen both, did you prefer the Disney version or the Tim Burton version of Alice in Wonderland?  It’s not my type of movie/genre to begin with.

Would you have sex before marriage? Why or why not?  Yes. I don’t see the big deal; I’ve already done it anyway.

Are you more liberal or conservative?  Liberal.

Who is your favorite Harry Potter character?  Ooh not sure. I haven’t gone back to the books in a while, so I don’t remember if there was anyone I had an attachment to.

What’s the worst that could come out of letting gays marry?  Nothing.

What’s the most sexual thing you’ve done?  Had sex...I guess? And a bunch of stuff that comes with it.

Name something that you are against.  Racial discrimination.

Why are you against it?  Because it is infuriating to see, and it shows me the very same treatment can happen to me or my family as well and that scares me, especially since some people turn particularly violent towards people of color.

Have you ever played the Tomb Raider games?  No.

Do you like it or hate it when your partner is clingy?  I imagine I wouldn’t enjoy it if I’m not as into whoever my next partner would be.

Beatles or Rolling Stones?  I don’t listen to either.

When was the last time you changed your opinion on somebody?  Not so sure about a whole change in opinion because that hasn’t happened in a while, but I grew more grateful for my manager today because I finally mustered the strength to tell her that I’m begin to struggle mentally with work and she not only encouraged (read: begged) me to file a damn leave for once, but she also got sushi delivered to my place.

What was the last thing that made you feel proud and why?  Andi was telling me about their day today and how they handled being misgendered by a prof, who then proceeded to throw a fit when he got corrected, and how they, again, maturely handled said fit. I was proud of them because there are a million ways that incident could’ve turned out, but they dealt with it in an extremely mature and calm manner considering they were the one who was wronged.

Do you feel uncomfortable when people you hardly know confide in you?  If it was about an extremely personal problem I would probably be taken aback at first, but I still would definitely make some time for them and help in however way I can, since they apparently trust me enough to confide.

What was the last thing to fascinate you?  The music video for My Universe! Super cool to watch and I love that they made a short film out of it too.

Is there a certain noise/sound which scares you?  Doors being slammed shut, because that’s what my mom does when she’s furious. She did that when I was a kid and she does it to this day, so I get extremely nervous when I hear the sound, even if it happens by accident.

Do you have a favourite microorganism? Nope.

Out of the people you know, whose birthday is next?  My cousin Bree.

If you have pet fish do you bother to name them?  I did when I had them as a kid.

Do you keep your eggs in the fridge?  Yes?

Have you ever owned chickens?  Nope.

When did you last listen to music?  Like five minutes ago. I tried to have a jazz playlist on but I realized I wasn’t in the mood for music so I changed my background noise to have a random VLive on instead. 

[kiruuuuu]

Thank you for both your kind words as well as that wonderful mental image, anon 💝 :) I’m hella excited you enjoy this ship as well, so I hope you like reading about Blackbeard slowly going mad! (Rating T, BB sure loves rambling, ~4.8 words) - this contains references to underage sex!

.

Goyo is slowly but surely driving him insane.

The man is a fucking enigma. He might as well wear a question mark as his face because it’d tell Blackbeard just as much about his current mood or thoughts or expectations or hopes or fears as his actual face does (though he’s glad Goyo’s face is his actual face, seeing as it’s quite nice to look at, which isn’t to imply he’d like Goyo any less if he had no face, but it’d make kissing him a lot more complicated).

When he met him, Blackbeard thought him to be one of those quiet, cool guys who are just good at their job, and when they’re not at their job, they phase from existence because their job is all they are. Which is fine with Blackbeard. Some of his colleagues are like that: when anyone asks them about their hobbies, they’re hard pressed to come up with a reply since work isn’t a hobby, and neither is preparing for work.

But the moment Goyo first opened his mouth, Blackbeard realised his first impression couldn’t have been more wrong, because he sounds calm and sophisticated and confident and it instantly throws him off kilter. No, this isn’t some genius, this is one of those dudes who can’t take a joke, who think themselves better than everybody else, who react to things they deem profane not with honest opinions but rather thinly-veiled condescension, and they’re the worst. They’re the ones with whom Blackbeard has never gotten along, seeing as he was never sure whether they kept him around to secretly make fun of him, or out of misplaced pity, or to become more popular, or because they’re too awkward to be openly rude.

They’re the ones he can’t read. They never laugh along. They quietly sit next to him until someone calls on them and then they effortlessly trump him with whatever they have to say.

He justified his own actions with the excuse of ‘at least I’m being sincere’ for the longest time. He doesn’t like them, and so he shows it, meaning everyone knows where they’re at. After he’s declared his dislike, some kind of arrangement is made, and they never have to speak to each other again (only he had trouble keeping away because it is kinda gratifying to watch them squirm in discomfort) – and clearly, it’s better than putting up a front made up of false niceties and fake smiles which doesn’t hold up for a second longer as soon as they’re not in the same room anymore.

These days, he’s come to a different conclusion. They simply worried him.

Some of them bested him in various disciplines, causing him to push himself harder because he didn’t want to be left behind and because he can’t let someone he doesn’t like overtake him. Their indifference towards him left him insecure since he’s a people pleaser at heart, wants to be loved and admired by everybody and simply had absolutely no fucking clue how he could get them to like him. And he always thought this sentiment was universal: everyone wants to be popular, don’t they? All humans want to be liked. Only these specific people’s very existence threatened this world view. They didn’t want to be liked by everybody. So what did it mean that they got to the same place as Blackbeard, when he obeyed all the rules and played all the games? Conventions exist for a reason, and shouldn’t be ignored like that.

So yes. Goyo was one of those.

Except he wasn’t. Thermite found him hilarious. Pulse developed a sudden interest in Goyo’s field of expertise. Ash invited him out for drinks. Valkyrie appreciated his earnest nature (and really, what the hell?). The only one with whom Goyo pointedly didn’t interact was Blackbeard.

And they kept going on about how friendly he was, and how well he fit in, and Blackbeard didn’t understand. Stared hard at this mystery of a man and just didn’t understand. Goyo wasn’t stand-offish. He obeyed some rules and played most games, just not Blackbeard's favourite ones, and neither did he let him provoke him, which deprived Blackbeard of the satisfaction of making him uncomfortable as well. What the fuck was he supposed to do with that?

But there was another problem. He’s gay.

It’s a can of worms he’d prefer not to open – if his mind was a house, then he’d shoved all of… that down the stairs into the basement, never to be seen again, collecting dust and sitting untouched. (It’s only recently that he’s begun clearing some of it out, airing it, finding use for it in the living room or somewhere else.) And whenever he learnt that anyone in his vague vicinity was gay, the door slammed open and something yelled at him really loudly the two words which would haunt him for a few weeks:

WHAT IF.

Dumb. Useless.

Disruptive, even, it’s not like he’d do anything, it’s not like the guy would do anything, it’s unlikely to be a topic between them, and still he wonders what it’d be like to kiss whoever was unfortunate enough to haunt Blackbeard for a while. This happens with everyone. Intrusive thoughts he can’t for the life of him control. They do fade the longer he knows the person, fortunately, but in the beginning, whenever the name is mentioned, his brain flashes him a question à la what would it feel like to hug him. Never has he acted on it, nor has he confessed this to anyone, which… likely made it worse, alright, now he knows it, but as a terrified navy officer, his main concern wasn’t whether he might regret neglecting that unwanted basement in his head later in life.

He made a point of never joking about it. Not he himself, at least. Not about this. If anyone ever noticed, they didn’t mention it to him.

In any case, there was the fact that Goyo was there and not going to go away any time soon, and he was gay, and really handsome. The tingly kind of handsome. The car crash kind, making it impossible to look away, with his stupid beard and the weird, sexual way he sits, and how he twirls his pens around without even realising. His smile is…

Blackbeard didn’t want to label him with anything past handsome, not pretty or attractive or (god forbid) hot, because it fell too well in line with the WHAT IF still regularly being screamed at him, despite the weeks they’ve spent as acquaintances already, and for some reason, this time, it doesn’t go away.

With other colleagues, it vanished very quickly, but Goyo? Goyo starts appearing in his dreams. Just once or twice, really, nothing compromising, a few words exchanged or a laugh (and he’s seen him laugh in Valkyrie’s presence, and dear fucking lord), but it has an uncomfortable side effect.

His brain convinces him he has some kind of claim on him. Nothing insane, not like he thinks Goyo owes him anything, and yet… He knows Goyo is single, so he should appreciate any offer he gets, and Blackbeard is certain Goyo would prefer if they got along better anyway, and besides, Blackbeard is a catch, right? He’s good-looking, funny, skilled, forthright, adventurous – nothing to scoff at. Surely it’s enough to warrant a try.

And when he’s instantly shot down, he realises that he can’t read this man at all.

.

Unfortunately for both of them, it’s a recurring theme in their interactions. Even after a while, even after Blackbeard has noticed Goyo’s lips thinning when he disapproves of something, or that his ‘yeah it’s fine’ is sometimes nothing more than a passive-aggressive ‘I’d prefer something else’, even then he doesn’t know the source of it. Because Goyo just doesn’t fucking talk to him.

The basics are there.

Not only that, the basics are great and Blackbeard is fully aware of it: both of them are putting effort into their relationship. He once heard it’s the single most important aspect of anything meant to last, and his prior relationships seem to support this claim – and hands down, both of them are committed to this. There’s not a single day without any type of contact, whether it’s texting, a short call, or meeting up, Goyo keeps track of what he likes to eat and cooks accordingly, Blackbeard brings small gifts, they pay each other compliments which are heartfelt and earnest, and they compromise on how they spend their time together. They’re comfortable around each other. He looks forward to seeing him every day that he does.

And there’s the whole… other stuff. All of which leaves Blackbeard flustered whenever he even thinks about it, and he’ll say this much: Goyo is infinitely more passionate than he would’ve expected. Generous, too. And really, really good.

That said, this is where the ‘but’ comes in (and no, he’s not referring to the fun part anymore).

Goyo can’t fucking communicate. It’s driving Blackbeard up the walls. He’s totally incapable of putting his emotions into words, which makes no sense at all. Once they started dating and Goyo opened up more, the complaints began, and honestly? Blackbeard was delighted. Because Goyo didn’t just nag, he pointed out aspects which bothered him in a constructive way and either suggested a solution or appreciated it when Blackbeard corrected it himself – or he was satisfied with a compromise. Maybe not always satisfied, there are still unresolved issues like him being inept to show up on time, ever, and insisting he’s in the right, but even then he doesn’t make a big fuss over it. Banter, yes. Some teasing. Remarks delivered with a grin. Tongue-in-cheek comments. Blackbeard does exactly the same, so he respects it.

In the past, it’s happened a few times that his current girlfriend was unhappy about something but didn’t mention it, not really, not to the point where Blackbeard would’ve realised it to be as serious as it turned out to be. Instead, her dissatisfaction grew and grew, in one instance accompanied by contempt, and eventually came an outburst he couldn’t have prevented if he tried, seeing as he knew nothing about it. Having a partner this vocal about problems is refreshing.

But there are certain topics Goyo doesn’t mention. Or moments where he simply clams up. It’s impossible to tell when it’ll happen or why, but now and then Goyo gets utterly lost in his own thoughts (or at least that’s what Blackbeard thinks is happening), and then he either loses the thread of their conversation entirely, or takes forever to reply. Blackbeard gets incredibly antsy whenever he receives no reaction, so his boyfriend doing it to him is twice as bad. He’s aware Goyo lives inside his head a lot of the time, sure, and as a result, almost everything he says is well thought through and genuine (at least the non-sarcastic bits), but for him, it’s difficult to deal with nonetheless. He often panics during those pauses and wonders whether he’s done something wrong and Goyo is currently trying to work out how to break it to him.

And when it comes to Goyo’s feelings, he’s a lost cause. Blackbeard doesn’t doubt for a second that Goyo spends a good portion of his time analysing himself and introspecting, it’s just… he doesn’t seem to be very good at it.

That, or he also has a basement full of dusty, forgotten, pushed-away objects.

Goyo thinks himself ‘sociable enough’. It’s how he himself expressed it. Blackbeard begs to differ, and strongly so: Goyo hardly ever seeks out other people, regularly turns down invitations as well and is awfully quiet in groups, not to mention he takes forever to warm up to people (and there’s the not-so-small matter about his lack of punctuality too). Blackbeard finds his behaviour quite rude a lot of the time and is pretty sure the others only give Goyo the benefit of the doubt to be nice.

He says of himself that he’s not very demanding, only to keep demanding things of Blackbeard. More touching. More housework. Less gym time. No shaving. More spontaneity (and he seems to overlook the obvious irony in telling someone to be spontaneous).

This is another thing: he keeps disrupting Blackbeard's daily schedule without feeling a shred of guilt over it. Calling at inopportune times, trying to keep him in bed in the morning, suddenly wanting to eat lunch a specific place, changing plans they made weeks ago a few minutes before leaving. It’s like he’s testing Blackbeard's patience and adaptability.

And the worst thing of all is simultaneously also the best thing: Blackbeard really, really, really likes him.

If he were a dog, his tail wouldn’t stop wagging for a second in Goyo’s presence. His brain fills with exclamation marks any time he sees him. Any compliments Goyo has ever paid him play on repeat, his smile is the last image Blackbeard sees before he goes to sleep, and he’s the first person he texts whenever anything happens. He has no idea what caused Goyo’s change of heart, what made him give Blackbeard a chance, but he’s endlessly grateful it happened. The fluttering in his stomach still hasn’t stopped when they’re spending quality time together, and his heart thumps twice as fast whenever they kiss. It’s the worst crush of his life and he doesn’t even know how it developed.

When he wants to be, Goyo is exceedingly witty, charming, supportive, empathetic, patient, loving, trusting. They’ve had a long conversation about sexuality which corrected some of the preconceptions Blackbeard still held, and at no point did he feel patronised, alienated, or uncomfortable. It’s probably what keeps them together: the knowledge they respect and trust each other. Goyo knows he’d never knowingly hurt his feelings, and he believes the same of Goyo. Jealousy is no topic between them, and boundaries are regularly drawn, re-drawn, negotiated, accepted. (Though not nearly as often as Blackbeard would’ve liked. He’s aware Goyo can feel suffocated sometimes and would prefer them to talk it out properly, but it’s one of the topics Goyo usually deflects.)

.

With how communicative Blackbeard is, he’s suffered from the lack of outside feedback on their relationship. Asking for advice is out of the question as no one else knows he’s dating anyone, and not being able to gush about the way Goyo sometimes wraps himself around him when they’re watching something on his bed kills him a little inside. He wants to share it all, the good and the bad, seeks reassurance on everything he’s doing and desires normality. A state where he can throw in ‘oh yes, my boyfriend mentioned it the other day’ without earning any kind of odd reaction. A world where the others ask him about how Goyo is doing, and whether they’ve been to this restaurant yet, and so on.

He knows that he himself is the only obstacle in this, but his track record in Rainbow hasn’t been the best and he’s worried the girls will call him out on hitting on them with no intention of starting a relationship. Which wouldn’t actually be far off the mark, unfortunately. Valkyrie is his best bet since they’re thick as thieves, but she’s been side-eyeing him for a while already and he’s pretty sure she suspects something. He hates when she can go ‘I told you so’ and be right about it.

Regardless, he’s going to explode if he can’t talk about Goyo to someone soon, and Vigil will certainly not want to hear about how ticklish his Mexican colleague is.

.

“Meghan, I need to tell you something”, he blurts out, startling his best friend and nearly causing her to drop her beer. They’re on Buck’s balcony, holding on to cans as if they were their lifeline to what little bit of their sanity is left after everyone heard Maverick suggest bodyshots earlier (only half jokingly), and then Castle murdered everyone by showing off photos of his newly adopted puppy. Even Blackbeard was squealing like a little girl. He really should look into adopting a dog himself. He wonders whether Goyo likes dogs.

“Don’t tell me you want to join Sanaa on her odyssey”, Valkyrie interrupts his thoughts, looking worried. “They’re all trying to deter her for a reason, we don’t need you encouraging -”

“What are you talking about?”, he interrupts her, aghast, and once her words have sunk in, he repeats: “No, really, what are you talking about? That sounds amazing. I wanna be a part of it. Where is she going?”

“Craig.”

Odd. Goyo sounds almost the same whenever he’s displeased. Blackbeard should text him about the dog later. “Yes. Where was I?”

“You made a vague threat.”

He blinks at her for a moment, mind blank. Goyo has said before that alcohol causes his brain to misfire, and he’s beginning to believe it. “Oh. Yes. Meghan, I’m dating someone. And don’t be smug, okay? I can’t deal with smug right now.”

Valkyrie’s lips twitch in amusement. “Would you like supportive? That’s great! I’m so happy for you! I hope it’s going wonderful, you really deserve it!”

“You’re the worst”, he informs her, prompting a laugh.

“It’s been a while already, hasn’t it?” He nods. He supposes it’s obvious to anyone who knows him well enough, and Valkyrie certainly does. After all, he can’t stop smiling on some days and must look like a lunatic. Maybe he should send a nice text first so Goyo knows he thought of him. “I figured. How is it going and why is it César?”

He chokes on his beer. She doesn’t even have the grace to look guilty while he’s busy coughing his lungs out, and when he makes an inquisitive sound, she even smirks. It was bad enough to learn that Smoke and Mute found out about their relationship (and he’s still not entirely sure about whether they found out on their own or Goyo helped a bit), and now it turns out Valkyrie knew all along?

“Don’t worry, no one else knows. But neither of you were very subtle about it to me. You kept asking about him, he kept asking about you… plus you’ve been really nice to him recently.”

Oh. He asked about Blackbeard? This is relevant information. He opens his mouth to inquire some more, but Valkyrie adds casually: “And he at least is openly gay. Very open. Remember how he mentioned his male ex-fiancé on the first day? He really didn’t allow for any ambiguity.”

And hold up. Blackbeard's brain struggles to process what it just heard. Wait.

Wait what.

.

There are two cans cooking on the stove.

Blackbeard is failing to grasp reality right now. He dumbly stares at the two unlabelled metal cans sitting in boiling water and doesn’t understand what’s happening. He doesn’t understand much of what’s going on at the moment anyway, and he’s fairly sure it’s not just the alcohol’s fault. The water bubbles happily around the objects, and time and space are collapsing around him.

“Hey, Bee”, comes a familiar voice from behind him and he’s embraced in a tight hug, lips planting themselves on his shoulder a few times before he’s released again. “You’re back early.”

“Jack’s apartment flooded. A few went with him to help, but Meghan dropped me off here. The hell are you making? Tin-flavoured soup?”

Goyo laughs and though the sound would normally flood him with endorphins, right now he just eyes the other man with a frown. “No, it’s dulce de leche.”

Blackbeard tries and fails to put the delicious caramel-like substance in any relation to what’s happening before him, though he does file something away for later perusal: he should ask Goyo to speak more Spanish around him. He might be onto something there. “How?”

“Sweetened condensed milk. When you boil it long enough, it turns into gooey ambrosia. You mentioned how you were looking for new ideas for ice cream – swirl this into anything and blow everyone’s minds.”

Oh. That does sound delicious, and the fact that Goyo is staying up late to do him a favour is also heartwarming, but the question burning on Blackbeard's tongue will not sit idly for a second longer. He asks: “Why did you never tell me of your ex-fiancé?”

Goyo, checking out the timer next to the pot, responds with another question without lifting his gaze: “Oh. Which one?”

He can’t be serious. Blackbeard waits, fully expecting him to be joking, but he seems genuinely surprised at Blackbeard's dumbstruck expression when he finally does look up. “I’ve had a turbulent past involving a few poor decisions”, he admits and something tells Blackbeard there’s a good possibility this is a massive understatement. “Is that a problem?”

Is it? He’s not entirely sure. The fact that he had to hear about it from Valkyrie might be one, and then there’s his crumbling impression of Goyo as someone largely sensible. He comes across as well-mannered, composed, logical – though Blackbeard has noticed most of these waver over time. The deeper he dives, the more of the iceberg he sees. “You just… seemed like someone who has his life together”, he says weakly. Goyo has friends and family who care about him, is comfortable in his own skin, good at his job.

His words are mulled over for a while with pursed lips, until Goyo decides: “I suppose I do. Except for my love life.”

“You did say at one point that all relationships you had were long, meaningful and deep. So I figured…”

“My relationships were mostly great, yes. Anything that doesn’t fall into that category, well”, and Goyo makes an uncertain hand gesture which, once again, fills Blackbeard with a sense of foreboding dread as it screams understatement. “I did start out by paying a guy to fuck me.”

Blackbeard has no clue how to react, and so he chooses to stare at his boyfriend in horror.

“Yeah. Life was tough where I grew up. This super hot straight dude caught wind of me being a reliable source of cigarettes and asked me about it. I convinced him to fuck me for smokes – which I was buying with my allowance money, I think.”

“Allowance”, Blackbeard echoes stupidly. “Wait, how old were you?”

“I think fifteen, why does it matter, Bee?”

“How old was the dude?!”

“Early twenties? Thinking about it, he really should’ve handled his finances better.”

Blackbeard is in shock. “So… he took advantage of you. Lightly said.” Very lightly.

To his utter disbelief, Goyo simply frowns and shakes his head. “What? No. It was my idea. I had to talk him into it.”

“Yeah but – you were a minor. He was an adult, he shouldn’t have -”

“Did you miss the part where he not only sold his body for some cigs but also let a teenager get the better of him? What about that makes it seem like he’d fell any reasonable decisions in his life?”

“Did you report him? Did he get arrested?” He can’t wrap his head around why Goyo seems so calm talking about this.

“Huh? Not for sleeping with me, no. He was a thieving piece of shit though, so he did end up in jail.”

“Stop defending him, do you really think he did nothing wrong?”

Goyo eyes him curiously. “Do you think that he did?”

And of course. Of course he does, it’s not just personal opinion with this kind of shit, it’s a fact that an adult exploited Goyo and how does he not see it? How can he view it any other way? Blackbeard has trouble putting his outrage in words, so he attempts a different angle: “Are you saying you’d be alright with someone else who’s twenty sleeping with a teenager who’s -”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Generally, of course not. But we’re talking about me here. I know what happened. I can assess it from my point of view.”

“But you were too young -”

“You don’t get to rewrite my past”, Goyo interrupts him sharply and so Blackbeard shuts up, dissatisfied. Next to them, the kitchen timer erupts into frantic beeping, prompting Goyo to turn the heat off, pluck the cans out of the pot with a pair of tongs and put them on a wire rack to cool.

Meanwhile, Blackbeard tries to decide whether all this changes how he sees the man before him. He’s not sure.

“Laws are in place for a reason and I’d be the first one to tell any teenager not to do what I did”, Goyo continues, directed at the slightly steaming metal. “But what I did happened and it was what I really wanted at the time. We do stupid things when we’re young. You don’t get to judge me for it. Only I can, and I’m not.”

It’s hard to relate. Blackbeard wouldn’t say he grew up sheltered, but certainly privileged, and though there’s plenty of stuff he did which he’d advise against, there’s none he’d defend like this. Except Goyo might be explaining instead of defending. He refuses to condemn while still being aware of the shady circumstances.

“Look, Bee, no one got hurt. Quite the opposite. Let’s leave it at that and go to bed, hm?” Goyo kisses him briefly before exiting the kitchen, already pulling his shirt over his head and exposing his toned back in the process. The sight awakens a strong urge to touch, but not in a sexual way – Blackbeard is filled with a comfortable sense of belonging instead. He knows what Goyo’s smooth skin feels like and that he’s free to caress it as much as he wants. It’s one of his favourite perks of any relationship: being allowed to show physical affection.

A little lost and still dazed from their previous topic, he trails after his lover and watches Goyo strip down to his underwear in the bedroom. “I wasn’t planning on going to sleep immediately”, he says, knowing full well he’ll climb in after Goyo regardless.

“We don’t have to sleep.”

Blackbeard stares at him blankly, thoughts continuously trying to process their conversation.

“I’ll read a bit and you can text some people. You told Meghan about us, didn’t you? She sent me a single message an hour ago which just said good luck.”

It seems this would be all Goyo has to say on the matter of his sexual past for now, and Blackbeard belatedly realises that he avoided mentioning his ex-fiancé (ex-fiancés??) entirely, so he should prepare for a similar talk in the near future. It’s become a habit of theirs which he genuinely doesn’t like – they address a topic, argue, and then drop it without a satisfying conclusion, without being on the same page. Most of the time, it ends up merely postponing the issue as it inevitably comes up again, though he does suppose there’s some merit in being able to think it through on his own before tackling it again. Both of them can be quite stubborn, and a break to sort their thoughts (and in Blackbeard's case, engage some outside advice) is beneficial.

So maybe it’s not so bad to not ruin the night with something they’ll ultimately refuse to agree on, and instead cuddle in bed.

Goyo becomes a temporary magnet in these instances, impossible to pry off, and Blackbeard has no choice but to hold him tight and bask in his body heat. Not like he’d want anything other than exactly this.

“Was it scary?”, Goyo mutters into his hair while stroking his back. They’ll separate soon and wind down in their own way before sleeping, but right now they just enjoy each other’s presence.

“She already knew I’m bi. She likes you and I trust her. Why would it be scary?”

“Still. It’s fine if it was.”

Blackbeard is silent for a minute. “A bit”, he admits and feels Goyo’s lips stretch into a smile.

“I’m glad it seemed to have gone well. And I’m proud of you.”

And this, this is why Blackbeard basically fawns over this bastard all day in his head. His heart throbs and he pulls Goyo even closer, relieved that the prior revelations apparently don’t make a difference between them. Goyo is right, the past can’t be changed, but neither does it need to dictate the present. “It did go well, she said you’d be good for me on the way here. She also mentioned you asking about me.”

Goyo chuckles. “You know, the first thing I ever asked about you was whether you’ve got a wife.”

And it’s a relief to hear that not only Blackbeard used to be terrible at reading him.

[pinkdogplushie]

Sanders Sides Headcanons: animal traits and the concept of "darkening"

Anyone who likes Sanders Sides and doesn't live under a rock knows that the Dark Sides possess animal traits and motifs. Let's see:

Janus's animal is the snake. It's quite clear just by looking at him: half of his face is covered in scales, one of his eyes is snake-like, a two-headed snake is his symbol, etc.

Remus's animal is the octopus. This is not as obvious as with Janus, but his symbol features octopus tentacles and his costume has green octopus-like details.

Virgil is the spider. While this hasn't been shown on the show, it's a popular fanon, and there's plenty of fanart of Virgil with spider traits (multiple eyes, spider legs, fangs etc.). Aside from that, spider imagery tends to be seen around Virgil: his room is full of spider webs, he has a (toy) pet spider, his curtains have spiders printed on them, he hisses, etc.

However, recently we've seen that animal traits are not exclusive to Dark Sides: Patton, in a great moment of stress, transformed into a giant frog. While this was just to keep with the running gag of Patton's love for Frogger, it's also the first time we've seen a Light Side explicitly taking animal traits. Nevertheless, we must analyze the context where these traits were revealed.

Which takes us to the concept of "darkening".

To discuss darkening, we must see what exactly is a 'dark' Side.

Dark doesn't mean "evil", or at least not irredeemable evil. All Sides mean well and want to help Thomas or get more recognition. Yes, even trash boi Remus.

What dark means is "counterproductive". Even if they mean well, Dark Sides don't seem to help Thomas; or at least, not in an obvious way.

Janus wants Thomas to take care of himself, and that's a noble endeavor; but he still prefers sabotage and manipulation to being upfront with his intentions and helping straightforwardly, which led to Thomas making bad decisions and being confused by his actions. It was only when Janus was actually honest and worked with the other Sides instead of against them that Thomas finally understood what he was trying to do and the others (sans Roman and Virgil) felt more at ease with him around.

Remus wants Thomas to acknowledge the dark parts of himself and be more risqué with his creative content; but he doesn't understand that the reason Thomas doesn't want to acknowledge the thoughts Remus produces is because they disturb him, and it's not that he doesn't want to delve into more "edgy" stuff, but he'd rather approach them from a more serious and philosophical angle. Thomas (both Sanders Sides Thomas and real life Thomas) doesn't shy away from discussing mental health issues, showing the impact of a religious upbringing in a person's moral code, researching topics like intrusive thoughts and the ambiguity of selfishness, or even showing himself and his friends (and Leslie Odom Jr.) dying in the name of being 'altruistic'. Remus just doesn't understand that, and that probably has to do with the fact Roman took King Creativity's moral compass when the Moral Split happened, resulting in Roman being mindful of people's sensibilities and Remus being completely amoral.

Finally, Virgil, prior to reconciling with Thomas and the Light Sides, only wanted to protect his charge, and still does; but acting antagonistic and scaring all the others so they'd pay attention to him only worked against him: Logan didn't understand him, neither Janus nor Remus took him seriously, and Thomas and Roman resented him for doing his job. Sure, most of the blow came from the others not really appreciating Virgil or making the effort of understanding his actions, but part of it - as he himself admitted - was Virgil acting scary so he would be listened to. The moment Thomas actually understood his function and accepted him just the way he is, Virgil eased up and started to relax around the others, leading his input to be seen as helpful and he himself to try and keep a more friendly stance towards the others.

So, having established that, to Sides, being dark is being counterproductive towards the charge (Thomas), we can say that "darkening" is the process of a Side accidentally or deliberately being unhelpful to the point Thomas is badly hurt, at least from their perspective. Darkening is a corruption or bastardization of a Side's core function caused by incredible stress and confusion: when a Side doesn't know what to do anymore, when everything they do or say is wrong, their own domain of thought turns against them and transforms them into an extreme version of themselves.

Darkening is like a Steven Universe corruption or magical girls witching out: despair, stress and confusion warp a Side's mind until they don't know who they are anymore, and their state of mind is reflected in their physical form.

Which brings us back to animal traits.

Because what happens when Patton finally has enough and refuses to listen to more moral dilemmas?

He gains animal traits, just like 'dark' Sides have. He becomes unhelpful, useless (from his own perspective). Patton darkens in that moment. Darkening is a fall from grace.

You know who else become animal-like when they fall from grace?

Christian demons.

That's right, folks: Remus is not the only one who reflects Thomas's Catholic upbringing. Subconsciously, all Sides are bound by religious beliefs, and these affect them when they're at their lowest. Patton, being the one who received and internalized the Catholic moral code when Thomas was growing up, is the first to show how 'falling from grace' affects a Side's physical form.

When an angel falls and becomes a demon, they gain animal traits to reflect their more violent and primal nature (ignoring the fact many of these demons had actually been Pagan deities before Chistianity took them and turned them into incarnations of evil). This also comes (at least, according to Good Omens, I don't know much of real-life demonology) with a change of name. Fanon gives different names to Light Sides's dark versions: @parano-vigilant-snake-boy, in response to my "King Creativity Rex" theory, called dark! Roman Burnout.

So, in short, when a Side (again, and I cannot stress this enough, from their point of view) fails to live up to Thomas's needs, they fall from his grace. They turn from guardian angels to demons and adopt the traits of such. They darken. Those who never believed themselves to be angels in the first place, like Janus, Remus and Virgil, adopt the traits from the get-go. It must also be noted that the animals that the Sides adopt are regarded as demonic or spooky, such as snakes, octopuses and spiders.

With all this said, what would other Sides' dark forms be if they believed they've fallen from grace?

Patton, as seen, takes on frog traits. Frogs, or rather toads, have been regarded as demonic animals: one of demon king Bael's forms is that of a toad. It probably has to do with their rather unpleasant appearance. There's a post here on Tumblr (I don't remember the author, please tell me if you're it or know who it is) that says that some frogs have heart-shaped pupils, which suits our sweet boi Patton. His name, based on his extreme, insane altruism and to keep with the religious themes, would be something along the lines of Martyrdom.

Logan takes on owl traits. This has been already explored in @parano--vigilant reverse au. The owl is considered an animal of wisdom: one of the goddess Athena's atributes was the owl, and the character of Owl in Winnie the Pooh is supposed to be wise (but kinda falls short). However, the owl has also been considered a demonic animal: Great Prince of Hell Stolas was depicted in the Ars Goetia as a crowned owl with long legs. In the Middle Ages, certain types of knowledge, like medicine and astronomy (the latter of which Logan adores) were forbidden because they were 'demonic' in nature. So, in a certain way, the owl also represents forbidden knowledge, and being a creature of the night only adds to the spookyness. Logan would relate a lot to the owl, given the others often don't want to listen to him or don't like what he says because it's the cold, hard truth. His name would probably be something along the lines of Forbidden or Secret Knowledge, if anything to reflect an attitude of 'I know something that you don't' or 'I could tell you but I don't want to'. His owl imagery might also be related to Thomas's love of Disney and based on the character of Owl.

Roman takes on goat and/or ram traits. Not only are these common traits for demons (including Lucifer himself), but goats also represent the wild, untamed and lustful side of humanity. Fauns and satyrs, for example, were half-goat mythological creatures that spent their time chasing women and accompanying the god of hedonism himself, Dyonisus. Roman is Thomas's passionate and fanciful side who likes to indulge and enjoy the pleasures of life, as well as the most romantic and the most concerned with courting Thomas's crushes. Besides, you need to be pretty extra to give yourself goat and/or ram horns. His name would vary depending on how rejection affects him: he could turn into Wrath or Revenge if he lets his more fiery side take hold, or he could turn into Burnout if he finally gives up and refuses to help Thomas anymore after his charge seemingly betrayed him.

The Orange Side has been headcanonned around as a butterfly. Depending on his nature, this could go two ways: if he's an independent Side, then he would be a moth, keeping up with the spoopy theme; if he turns out to be King Creativity/Rex (please visit the post with my theory of who the orange Side will be), then he would probably be a butterfly, the animal of metamorphosis (reflects how Rex is the fusion of Roman and Remus) and a 'pretty', flashy counterpart to the rather drab moth, reflecting how extra the Creativitwins are and how detached from both the Dark and Light Sides he is (because he's a mix of both, he gets to pick an animal, like a Dark Side, but he gets a non-demonic or spooky one, suited for a non-darkened Light Side).

Hoo wee, that was a long one. This might be just baloney, but please tell me what you think. If you've made it this far, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I spent a lot of time in this theory.

[bornpariah-a]

@inquistior​ :  After visiting the library to gather the reading that Solas has assigned him, Hal returns a few minutes later to place a fresh cup of in the place of the mug that had gone cold on whatever desk Dorian has chosen for the day. He leaves it while the mage is busy with one of the researchers, and slips away with nothing but a stifled smiled.

        ❝   ——— Very well, tell Lord Alexius that we’ve made some headway,   ❞   ignoring the dull ache that thudded through him at the mention of his old mentor’s name is easy enough, considering that it occurs at least thrice per week. The first several times he had half forgotten that Alexius is no longer a Magister, anymore. Not really.   ❝   However, his idea of amplifying magickal energies using Fade touched crystals is incredibly dangerous, there have been plenty of studies regarding that if he bothered to read any,   ❞   the mage he’s speaking to ——— Dylan, perhaps, or maybe it was Dianah, something with a d he’d recall in several minutes when the conversation was over and he could straighten out his mind once more ——— gives him a deadpan stare, as if to say that I’m not a messenger and why are you utilizing me as one, to which Dorian simply stares back, brow quirked.   ❝   Well? We haven’t got all day, do we?   ❞

        Things like that are precisely why he isn’t especially popular, though popularity is hardly something that he worries about, is it? Not anymore, that is, so far removed from his own society and entrenched in another which abhors him as a rule, thereby making him thoroughly unpopular with no real means of fixing such a thing if he cares to. But, that’s neither here nor there.

        He exhales a sigh, chest rising and falling dramatically, rubbing his forehead as he makes it way back to his commandeered desk, his standard wards shimmering as he goes, feeling ever so slightly different, a sign of someone having passed through them in his absence. A cursory glance his papers and books inform him that they are entirely untouched, not a page out of order, though he runs his fingers lightly over the long dried ink, besides. It takes several moments for him to scan the whole of the area, only to land on an extra tea cup, which he truly should have noticed in the first place, and likely would’ve if he weren’t so preoccupied with ensuring that his work hadn’t been tampered with in the meantime. Steam is rising from it, unlike its abandoned sibling lying, forlorn and cold, on the table beside, though they are both clearly the same type of tea. He tilts his head, regarding it with blatant suspicion.

        It’s not as though he’s expecting to be poisoned, but given his upbringing and the ire he earns down south by breathing it wouldn’t surprise him if someone foolhardy were to TRY in spite of his position in the Inquisition. And it’s one of several options which pop into his head all at once, barraging him with an array of possibilities which he discards one after another. Dorian stares at it for several moments too long before waving his hand over it, magick stretching to check for any unsavory additions to it. It’s not stripweed tea, he knows as much by smell alone ( and it would take an impressive amount of digging for most anyone to figure out that he’s highly allergic, thus it would have to be random chance to give him a drink which would outright kill him ) and after several moments he’s determined that it’s simply tea. His favorite brew, made perfectly and left waiting for him : innocuous.

        Which, truly, only leaves so many options : Cole, trying to make his day better, a scenario which is somewhat likely were it not for the fact that he knows that Cole is preoccupied today, though he still wouldn’t put it past him ——— a secret admirer, more likely than Cole in the grand scheme of things, given that he is Dorian Pavus, after all, but who in their right mind would court him by leaving tea lying around for him lest they knew that he had a bad habit of letting his own go cold ——— or, Maker forbid, the Inquisitor.

        Yet, that’s the only option remaining, isn’t it? Dorian is something of a fan of LOGIC and while he half denies the origin of this gift ( could this be considered a gift? ) it’s simply a thoroughly Halwn Trevelyan thing to do, to pass through and leave him his favorite tea, freshly brewed and ready for him to drink at any given time, and leave without a word. It’s ——— absurd and foolish and foolhardy, utterly ridiculous in the grand scheme of things, to take time out of the day in order to LEAVE HIM SOMETHING, never mind to take note of exactly what he likes and precisely how he likes it : blazing hot, though just beneath the threshold of burning the leaves.

        It ——— feels like courting.

        The thought rests oddly in his mind, abrupt and intrusive as he stares at the cup of tea as though it has thoroughly offended him by its mere existence, which is also ridiculous. Though not nearly so much as Halwn leaving him his favorite tea, as if he has hoarded this information within his mind, keeping stock of the things that Dorian likes. He picks up the teacup gingerly as he heads over into his alcove proper, flipping open the rarely used log book, eyes skimming what little is there and ——— well. The neatly signed Halwn Trevelyan rather answers that question, doesn’t it?

        Of course he would leave Dorian his favorite tea AND check out a book properly like a civilized person, all without instruction nor Dorian watching over him to make sure that it was all correct.

        Slowly, the cup raises and he pauses with the porcelain pressed against his lower lip, abruptly far too aware of his own heart beat, the cup steam warm against his mouth. It feels ——— far too private, almost SALACIOUS, and he feels no small measure of frustration rearing its head, scratching against his sternum as he tips the cup and drinks it.

        Perfect. Naturally.

        Dorian stares at it for several moments longer, mind bizarrely blank for several moments, the only remnant of his being alive the fact that his heart is thudding in his chest and his lungs continue to expand with each breath that he takes. A moment passes / and then another / and another before he downs the whole cup in one go ( an odd behavior, for him, rather erratic, but the tea has mostly cooled by now anyways and there’s no sense wasting it, now is there? ) and sets the empty cup on top of the log book, turning sharply on his heel and making his way towards the kitchens.

        Several looks are directed his way as he blustered into the rooms, oven hot and stifling as he glances around at the various bowls and instruments and ——— ah. There. An apple lifts from the bowl and drifts towards him as everyone in the kitchens stares at him and he smiles brilliantly,   ❝   My apologies, I was feeling a bit peckish... do excuse me,   ❞   he bows shallowly as he turns out of the room and the apple falls into his hand and he makes his way, at a perfectly normal pace, back to his alcove. The apple is thrown several times, absently, always landing perfectly back in his hand, and he gives Solas a passing wave before ducking into the stairwell, making his way back up and pushing open the window of his alcove, leaning out a bit, eyes scanning the area.

        He’s not especially hard to find, never is, speaking to someone or other, or rather being spoken to, likely having been waylaid on his way to some destination, and Dorian simply watches him for a moment. He can’t see him particularly well at this distance nor angle, what with the Inquisitor turned primarily away from him, but for a moment he can admire the slope of his shoulders and the way his hair catches the light and that’s all fine and well, basic PHYSICAL ATTRACTION is simple enough, isn’t it? Something to be worked out, if both parties agree to it, and that’s that. The problem is ———

        THE PROBLEM IS : a tea cup left beside the papers that he had been writing upon, everything else left untouched but for the log book that no one bothers to use having been written in perfectly to his standards ( reasonable standards, mind you ) with not a thing out of place, excessively thoughtful and mindful, a teacup pressed to his lips, the contents perfectly brewed albeit somewhat chilled due to time alone. The whole of that? A problem. A rather major one, at that.

        His mouth thins and he has half a mind to eat the apple himself but ——— no, instead the Veil ripples as he tugs at Halwn’s elbow and watches as the man shifts, not quite starting, as he looks around for the source of it all. Dorian knows he’ll look up here ——— Halwn’s not subtle and that’s a problem, as well ——— and the moment that their eyes meet he flings the apple with carefully applied magick. Luckily he had plenty of target practice in his youth, and the trajectory is utterly perfect, bearing in mind wind and whatnot. Surprise, he thinks, flits across the man’s face as he compulsively catches the object catapulting towards him, staring at it for several moments. Dorian leans against the window frame, arms crossed.

        They look at each other again ——— they always do and that’s part of the problem, as fucking well ——— and Dorian gives his widest, most charming smile, accompanied by a jaunty wave.   ❝   My thanks, Inquisitor !!    ❞   he shouts, subtle manipulation of the Veil allowing his voice to carry without him having to shout too loudly. People are looking, of course they are, and while he’s partial to giving a show, there’s no need to go overboard.

        And, he departs from the sill, closing the windows without fully gauging Halwn’s reaction, irritated by speed of his heart, pulsing against his chest. He could imagine it, anyways : the slight widening of his eyes, the softening of his jaw, that specific form of gentleness descending upon him. Dorian doesn’t need to see it at all, and hasn’t the faintest clue what he would do if he had.

[reggiesreputation]

Friends Don’t Lie Part 1

So this is my first fan fiction ever please be nice?? I am so open for feedback and requests of Jonathan or Steve!! Anyways here we go!

Warning: swearing

The sound of a horn honking broke my concentration as I was applying the final touch of mascara to my lashes.

“Y/N, Jonathan’s here.” My dad called from downstairs.

I silently curse as a scramble for my shoes and socks. He’s always early. Why is he always so early?? I eventually find my second converse and throw it on along with my backpack as I race to his car.

“I’m here the same time everyday. You do know that right?” He jokes as I pull on my seat belt from the passenger seat.

“And you realize I like to sleep in as long as possible right?” I rebuttal as he pulls out of my driveway. He just laughs at me and turns up the radio. Girls on Film by Duran Duran fills the speakers. “Is this a new mixtape?” I question, turning down the volume a few notches.

“Yeah just made it this morning! All the best pop and rock hits of the week.” He beamed as he handed me the cassette container with all the songs.

“Shut up I love The Romantics!” I screamed as you scanned the list of songs. “You always have good taste Byers.” I smile up at him. He blushes and thanks me as we pull up to Hawkins High.

I opened the door and closed my eyes as I let the cool October breeze fill the air. “Ah it feels so nice! I could stay out here for days! By the way, are we still on to go to the pumpkin patch later?” I asked as we walked up the stair of the school.

“Oh crap I forgot. I-“

“Oh my gosh don’t tell me youre cancelling again! Is it Nancy?? You know I’m all for you getting the girl at your dreams, but not at the cost of our friendship.” I groan as we approach you locker.

“Look it’s just, I could never forget about you. But I think she may really like me.” His whole face was beaming. I hadn’t seen him so happy since the day he got his record player. How could I be mad? He’d do the same for me if I ever found a guy.

“Okay fine. But you owe me big time Byers!” I yell as we part ways for day.

“I’m forever in your debt!” He responds, earning some judgmental looks from the girls in the hall. I laugh as I head into Mrs. Fuentes’ English class.

I sit down and begin to thumb through the chapter I was definitely supposed to read for the day. But my last minute studying was quickly interrupted by Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington slamming his books on the desk next to mine.

“Jesus Steve what did the desk ever do to you?” I say as I close The Great Gatsby.

He looks at me with hurt and concern in his eyes. I immediately feel bad for sounding so sharp. “Why do you care?” He sneers as more students file in the classroom.

“Hey, look I’m sorry Harrington. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. I just- are you okay? Do you want to talk?” His frown starts to fade and before he can say yes the bell rings signaling the beginning of a test I was definitely going to fail. As class droned on Steve slipped me a piece of paper. As I unfolded it it read: ‘life really sucks sometimes. I feel like I’m losing Nancy. I’m sorry for being a dick.’

My chest tightened as I read the note. Once upon a time me and Steve were actually closer than me and Jonathan, but then high school came. Theatre kids and popular kids just couldn’t mix. He would still smile at me in the hall, sit by me in class. But the movie nights, sleepovers, and bowling escapades ended. I looked over at the boy next to me before deciding to write him back. When Mrs. Fuentes wasn’t looking I handed him another paper.

‘Look I’m no expert in relationships, but I do know the milkshakes at Bennys can cure any kind of sadness. We could meet up after school if you wanna talk?’ He smiled from ear to ear remembering all the times we went there as kids with my parents. He mouthed yes as I looked at him waiting for an answer.

As the bell rang I packed up my stuff and spoke to him, “so you gunna pick me up or drive separately?”

“You live a street away I’ll just come grab you. Save the planet a little.” I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ah yes we’ll definitely be saving the planet in your gas guzzler. Uh, anyways, I gotta head to chem, but I’ll see you later! Pick me up at 5?”

“I’ll be there!” He beamed as I turned the corner.

My heart fluttered at the thought of getting dinner tonight with Steve, but I internally kicked myself at the reaction. Though I’d harbored a crush for the boy since the fifth grade, he would never see me that way. We’re a part of two different worlds. Plus and most importantly, he has a girlfriend. I tried to keep telling myself that I was just concerned for an old friend, but I couldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts during the rest of my classes.

Soon enough the bell rang and I went to meet Jonathan at his car. As I walked out to the parking lot I saw him and Nancy laughing by his car, and a pissed off Steve sitting in the drivers seat waiting for his girlfriend to join him. Nancy saw me in the distance and hugged Jonathan before heading off to join Steve.

“Look I know you’re in love with the girl, but could you at least try to be more subtle? She does still have a boyfriend you know.” I spoke up as the doors of the car closed.

“Y/N, you know I’d never condone any kind of cheating. We’re just friends.”

“Jonathan, we’ve never hugged each other like that. If you really want this you have to talk to her. I think you guys are really hurting Steve and that’s not fair to him.” He shifted into the seat uncomfortably. He knew I was right. We sat in silence before a few seconds before he spoke up.

“I know it’s wrong. And I don’t want to hurt Steve. But being around her is like a drug. I just can’t stay away. You know she invited me to the Halloween party at Tinas. Practically begged me to go. And I said yes.” I stared at him in shock. Jonathan Byers at a party? I never thought I’d see the day.

“I mean that’s good for you. I’m really glad you’ve met someone who makes you happy, but you have to think about Steve. I mean aren’t they going to that together? I heard them talking about their couple costume a few days ago in home room.” His smile faltered as I finished.

“Yes they are...”

“Look Jon, I love you. And I want you to be happy. But you need to tread carefully around all of this. Or you and Steve could end up getting hurt.” I reached out for his hand and he took it in his. We gave each other a look of understanding and rode to my house in silence while The Talking Heads filled the car.

Flash forward to five on the dot. The doorbell fills the house as I bound down the stairs before my dad could answer and interrogate the poor boy. Luckily I was faster and open the door to Steve smiling down on me.

“Hey! Ready to go?”

“Yes! Those milkshakes are the only thing that got me through the day!” He laughs as we get into the car.

“How do you like Devo?” He asks reaching towards the stereo.

“Oh I love them! Their new album was killer.” I say as he turns up the volume. We chat about our days as we drive to the diner. The highs and lows, and homework assignments. The conversation flows so naturally like we never stopped being friends.

When we arrive in the diner we both just look at each other and smile. “Man this place hasn’t changed since we were kids. Can you believe it?” He spoke as we seated ourselves in our old favorite booth.

“It really hasn’t. Look here I’m pretty sure this is a stain from the time I spilled syrup all over the place!” Steve couldn’t help but chuckle as he thought of the accident.

“Oh my god you go it everywhere! Even in our hair!” He choked through laughs. I was about to respond but we were interrupted by the waitress.

“Well hey guys! I’m Laura and I’ll be your server tonight, anything I can get you?”

Before I could speak Steve said “Well both have the number three with a chocolate milkshake.”

“Okay I’ll get that right in for you.” She smiled as she took our menus from us.

“What if I didn’t want the number three anymore? We haven’t been here in years I mean my taste buds could have changed.” I spoke as the waitress disappeared behind the counter. He just smiled as I looked sternly at him.

“Oh cmon you haven’t changed that much! I may not know your current favorite song or color, but I know you’ll always be a number three gal.” I blushed at his comment. It was weirdly sweet. He was right I mean I would have ordered the number three anyways. I tried to shake those thoughts from my head and inquire him about the reason we were even here in the first place.

“Well you’re lucky I haven’t changed too much. Uh anyways...how are you?” I ask almost in a whisper. I didn’t want his smile to fade, but I wanted to help him.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I just- I don’t know if Nancy loves me anymore. She’s always with Jonathan and she tells me they’re just friends, but I don’t think just friends talk to each other more than girlfriends and boyfriends do.” He ran his hands through his hair as he spoke. I could see the anxiety and the fear in his head.

“Hey I- I can’t say I get it because I’ve never had a boyfriend”

He interrupts me before I could continue, “wait you’ve never had a girlfriend?” He asks looking up at me. I almost freeze where I am. Red being to fill my cheeks as I realize what I’ve just said. “I mean it’s fine there nothing wrong with that, I’m just surprised.” He says trying to ease my embarrassment.

“Uh why would you uh, be surprised?” I mumble.

“Well I mean look at you. You’re really pretty. And funny and smart. I mean I always had a crush on you in middle school.” He said as if it were nothing. I nearly choked on air as he spoke. Before I could respond the waitress came over with our food.

“And here we are two number threes. Do everything look okay?”

“Yes, perfect.” Steve smiles at her. She gave us one last look before hiding back behind the counter. We sat in silence for a minute before Steve spoke up again.

“Sorry for making it awkward. I mean I don’t like you now obviously. But back then, you were pretty great. And not that you aren’t now- it’s just we don’t talk anymore you know?” He was petrified as the word vomit kept coming out of his mouth. I was at a loss for words. I couldn’t believe Steve had had a crush on me. My whole body buzzed at the thought. I could tell he didn’t want to talk about this anymore though, so I finally got out of my head and spoke up.

“Um well I don’t know why I never dated. I guess I just never found the right guy. And the guys I liked never liked me. I never did have the best luck.” It comes out as almost a whisper. He just looks at me With was it pity? God is this turning into a pity part for me? “Look I just, what I meant to say was though I’ve never been in a relationship, I’ve still felt heartache, and I’m really sorry you’re going through it. I know we haven’t spoke in years, but you know I’m always a phone call away. I’m here if you need me Steve.”

I reached for his hand and grasped it in mine as I changed the topic. His expression changed to one of relief. Relief of a rekindled friendship, of knowing that even if things with Nancy crashed and burned, he would have someone to lean on.

“Y/N, thank you. I’m just so confused. I feel like I’m chasing a dream. The more I reach the more she flees. Into his arms. I’m surprised she even agreed to go to Tinas party with me tomorrow at this point. Of course she still invited Byers, which means I’ll turn into the third wheel.” He grumbled. I squeezed his hand for reassurance as he finished. He gave me a weak smile in return.

“Look I’m going to the party too. Jon is my best friend, maybe I can keep him with me for a while so you can figure things out with Nancy” He perked up as I spoke.

“Would you really?”

“Yeah. I mean what are friends for?” I felt sick even saying the words, but I mean I wanted Steve to be happy. And if that meant keeping Jonathan away from Nancy, well then tomorrow was going to be a very interesting night.

“Oh my god you don’t know how much I appreciate this! God just, thanks Y/N. You’re a good friend.” He said letting go of my hand and getting his wallet out to pay the bill. I could feel a sick feeling bubbling up inside me. And it wasn’t from the milkshake. It was that word again. Friend. Every time we said it I hated it more.

Before I could further frustrate myself over the word Steve stood up and held his hand out. I took it in mine and we walked back to his car in silence.

The drive back was mostly quite. He tried to inquire about any boys that had caught my eye, but I quickly told him that there wasn’t anyone right now. Which is a huge lie, but he doesn’t need to know that. As we pulled up to my house he spoke before I got out of the car. “Look thanks again for tonight. I feel better. Less alone. And maybe we could do this again sometime? I do miss us hanging out.” He places a piece of hair behind my ear as I take in his words.

“Um yeah, I think that would be really nice Steve. And it’s no problem. You know I’d do anything for you.”

He smiled. “Yeah I do. Go get some sleep. And tell your dad I say hi.”

“For sure! He’ll be ecstatic to hear from you. And you too Harrington. Take care of yourself. And goodnight.” I say as I climb out of the car.

“Night Y/N!” He hollers as he drives off into the night. When I can’t see his car anymore I step inside the house and breathe for the first time in what feels like hours. All I can think think about is how cute Steve looked tonight. How I wanted to kiss him, tell him that I would never treat him they way Nancy does. But I couldn’t. I’m fucked. So very fucked. Tomorrow sure was going interesting I think as I eventually climb into bed and get some sleep before whatever was to come.

[fenfyre]

The Fox and the Raven - Part II

A Turnera Diffusa Sidepiece 

Part I

The next morning found Jean working in the kitchen, finishing up a batch of salves and creams that had been ordered in bulk by one of his favourite clients, an older lady who ran a cute little shop a few cities over. As far as Jean knew she wasn't a witch herself, her store focusing more on the all natural, hand made aspects of the different products she sold.

But his wares were still very popular with her clientele and if he put in the occasional magical boost, like glamour charms for face creams or simple relaxation and cleansing spells for his different bath products, well nobody got hurt. On the contrary, he felt like the magically enhanced items sold out faster, had a higher demand and even got more positive ratings than those he didn't put that extra kind of work into.

He had just finished filling a few dozen glass pots with hand lotion and stuck the already printed labels onto the lids when he felt that strange twinging sensation in the back of his head again. It had disappeared almost completely over night, after he had renewed his protections and cast his banishing charms but part of him had still known that this wasn't over.

He finished the last pot, making sure the label was straight, before slowly looking up from his work and out of the window. His heart tripped in his chest, speeding up as he saw the same, suspiciously big raven as yesterday perched on one of the patio chairs. Its glossy feathers and dark eyes were glistening in the morning sun as it seemed to look right at Jean through the glass of the window pane.

A shiver ran down his arms, cool and uncomfortable, and he shifted in his seat, staring back at the animal.

Minutes passed as Jean wondered what he should do, if he should try and shoo the raven away or go upstairs and look for a stronger banishing ritual. Maybe even call his mother, she might know what to do about this uninvited visitor whose presence set Jean this much on edge in his own home.

But Jean wasn't a little boy anymore, neither was he an inexperienced witch still green behind the ears. He didn't want to call his mama every time he was confronted with something new. He had learned much these past months and years, after all. He could deal with a strange spirit raven.

It was that kind of determination that made him get up from his place at the kitchen table and walk over to the door, stepping out onto the sunny patio.

The raven followed each of his steps with intent eyes and a tilt to its head that gave it an almost patient air. It didn't make any movements to fly away or bring any distance between them as Jean pulled out a chair across from it. He was just about to settle down when his eyes were drawn away from the animal by the sound of flapping wings. Another raven, just as big as the first one, appeared from the back of the yard, settling down on the wooden fence Eren had built around the herb garden last summer.

This one was, too, watching Jean closely with beady eyes, giving him the feeling of being surveyed from every angle as he turned back to the first one.

"What do you want?", he asked, unsure if the spirit would be able to communicate like this but unwilling to back down or show even a speck of fear in the face of this arrogant intrusion. This was still his land, his home where he lived with his two beloved mates. Any force trying to disturb them had to answer to him directly and it was best to make that clear from the beginning. No more chanting and burnt down candles and Four Thieves Vinegar. If this spirit wanted to make it personal Jean would see to it they got as personal as possible.

The raven tilted its head even further, rustling its wings and fluffing up the feathers down the curve of its chest as if blustering at the question. Then it hopped onto the table between them, long claws clicking against varnished wood. This sudden closeness was already making Jean's hair stand on end but when the two halves of the long, curved beak parted and a hoarse, barely recognizable voice started tearing through the still morning air he had to fight hard to stay seated and keep looking at the thing in front of him.

"We heard you are looking for a familiar, little witch", the spirit wearing the shape of a large common raven croaked, feathers rustling. Jean swallowed.

"Why?", he asked after a moment, willing his heartbeat to slow down. There was nothing to fear, he reminded himself. "You want to put in an application?"

Part III

Commissions | Kofi | AO3 | twitter | pillowfort

[tipsycad147]

The Fiery Wall of Protection

The Fiery Wall of Protection is a folk magick ritual to stop someone from bothering you. Like most spells that have been passed down through oral traditions, it has countless variations. A Fiery Wall can be constructed with just a few household items—and of course, your properly focused will.

Here is a very simple recipe for a Fiery Wall of Protection. (The way I learned it from my teachers, with a few personal notes added.) I call it the quick-and-dirty version. Anybody can do this spell and see positive results almost immediately. You can customise this spell to your individual circumstances, and I’ll tell you how.

What it does:

The Fiery Wall of Protection sends a powerful message to your opponent that you are wise to their crap and you’re not going to take it anymore. It protects your personal energy from intrusion and disruption. It strengthens your aura and home shields with the energy of Fire. It reminds you that you have friends in high places and anyone that wants to mess with you is going to have to work a lot harder from now on. It may be used against any adversary, human or non-human.

What it does not do:

A Fiery Wall of Protection is not a curse, binding, or reversal spell (not really). It does not punish your enemy for past sins, and it does not prevent them from transferring their negative attentions to someone else. It’s also not a substitute for medical or legal services, so please seek help if you are ill or have been a victim of a crime.

Oh, and this probably goes without saying, but the Fiery Wall is a defensive magickal technique. It really only works if someone else is the instigator. If you’re the one trying to cause pain and consternation, look beyond it to more aggressive spells (and watch your back).

You will need:

A white candle (votive, taper, chime, your choice)

A black, grey, or other colour candle (same size)

Something to make the Wall itself (salt, herbs, piece of string)

A statue, picture, amulet, or candle to represent your Helper (more on that later)

Your Candle

The white candle represents you in the current situation, your pure and blameless state. (White is traditionally used this way in candle magick—but if you don't like it, feel free to use another colour that represents purity to you.) This candle will go in the centre of your altar or work space.

Before preparing the central candle, you may want to take a few moments to purify yourself. Take a cleansing bath or shower, do some yoga or meditation, drink water, go for a little walk. Try to let go of all immediate anger and noisy thoughts surrounding the situation. Instead, anticipate how good you’ll feel once the trouble has passed.

On that note, if you're currently doing anything to pester your enemy, knock it off. You're about to magickally claim the moral high ground and seal yourself off from the other party. Any lingering ill will is just going to get in the way.

Carve your name in the candle (but don’t light it yet). If you have a sacred or magickal name, use that instead. You can anoint the candle with Protection Oil, Keep Away Trouble Oil or your favourite all-purpose anointing oil. I like Dragon’s Blood or Frankincense for their powerful Earth/Fire energy.

Enemy Candle

The other candle represents whoever or whatever you need protection from. This can be a person, group of people, or concept—but it’s easier if it’s something you can easily visualise and name. The second candle should be around the same size and shape of the white one (not too much bigger or smaller).

The enemy candle can be any colour except white. I use black if the opponent is purely nasty and grey if their motives are unknown or unclear. Orange can represent a person who's aggressive and self-serving. But it’s really up to you.

If you know your foe's favourite colour or astrological sign, you could use that information to choose the candle colour. Or just pick the ugliest smooshed-up candle in your drawer, the one that smells like cheap perfume and is a colour you hate.

Carve your adversary’s name on the second candle. Some people also like to include a photo of the enemy, or a piece of hair or clothing. That’s great if you have access to those things. You can also include a small token alongside the enemy candle which represents the kind of harm they would try to cause. (A coin if the person is trying to cheat you for money, a nail if they’ve threatened you physically, a thorn if they’re a thorn in your side, etc.)

The Wall

Now you need to find some kind of material to make a barrier. Black salt is a classic choice for a Wall of Protection. Ordinary table salt will do the trick, too. Use the salt alone or blend it with the herbs and oils for your own Fiery Wall mix.

My fave recipe uses Sea Salt, Wormwood and Stinging Nettle. Grind it all up in a cauldron with five drops of Banishing oil. Oh yeah.

But honestly, any material will work for the Wall as long as it has some backbone to it. If you don’t have herbs or salt, you can use a piece of black or red string. Some Witches get all showy with flash paper. Here in Texas, I’ve even seen people collect snips of barbed wire for protection spells. Whatever makes you happy.

Decide on your wall’s “construction material” and keep it handy.

The Helper

The final component of the Fiery Wall of Protection is what I call the Helper, the higher being who will lend their power to help keep your enemy at bay.

Your Helper should be one who knows and sympathises with your case—an ancestor, angel, patron saint or deity. Pick someone who is wise, just, and powerful. St. Michael the Archangel is a very popular and willing helper in protective magick. (And you can get a St. Michael candle at almost any corner store.) Pagans may prefer to invoke a warrior God or Goddess to come to their aid.

I don’t recommend employing demons, elementals, or chaotic gods for this working. Why? Because the Fiery Wall is not about wreaking senseless havoc on people who have wronged you. It’s about maintaining boundaries and preventing future harm. In other words, find a Helper whose alignment is Lawful Neutral to Lawful Good.

If you’re a non-theistic Witch, you could skip the Helper part of the spell, but I really don’t recommend it. Everybody has vulnerabilities and weak moments—that’s how your enemy was able to get under your skin in the first place. Calling on someone or something bigger than yourself lends power to the spell. Call it the Sun, spirit fire, the Genius or Higher Self. I’ve even used the Justice or Adjustment card from the Tarot. Your Helper will stay vigilant for you when you need a break.

You’ll represent the Helper in your spell with a statue, amulet, picture, or other item. You can use a candle, naturally—but if you do so it should be bigger than the two other candles on the altar.

Casting a Fiery Wall of Protection

Here’s how you set up the altar for a Fiery Wall of Protection:

The prepared white candle, representing yourself, goes in the very centre of the altar. The other candle, representing your adversary, goes in front of it, directly across from your physical body. (Any tokens or other items go beside or underneath.) The two candles are positioned in a straight line, almost like you’re confronting your enemy directly from both sides.

Now get a hold of your barrier material, the one you decided on earlier. Using the salt, herbs, string, or what-have-you, build a circle around the white candle. Do this deliberately, making it as perfectly round and complete as possible. Your candle is now enclosed in a circle, with the enemy candle on the outside. Good riddance.

A couple of tips: Using a bag with a hole cut in one corner is a good way to pour out ritual salt. A very small spoon works, too. If you're using string, tie the ends in three knots and place the knots between the two candles. I've heard of people soaking the string in vinegar, chilli oil, or bug repellent. If you’re working outside on the ground, you can even dig a “moat” in the soil and place your barrier items in there. (Not quick, but plenty dirty!)

The item representing your Helper goes just outside the circle, to your left. (Which would be to your right side if you were standing inside the circle and facing your enemy.)

Take a few deep breaths, and begin. You’ll start in the enemy’s corner, because they’re the one who started all this in the first place. (Right?) This is the black or grey or orange candle outside the circle, the one closest to you.

Light the enemy candle. Staring intently at the candle, say,

“[Enemy], I see you. I’m aware of your [summary of past misdeeds] and will no longer tolerate your garbage. Do as you will, but harm me not.”

Or something similar. It’s not poetry, but you get the idea. Let the words you choose fit the circumstances and your intention for this spell.

Now light the white candle, the one within the circle. As it burns, see the light fill the circle and enflame the protective ring.  If you’re mad, now is the time to get really mad. (This is a Fire working, after all.) Let your anger feed the wall, causing it to rise higher and burn brighter, completely shutting out your enemy. Say,

“My body is my own. My mind is my own. My home is my own. No evil can enter this circle of fire. I see those who would harm me, and I laugh at their frustration! I will succeed despite your best efforts to mess me up!”

Finally, call upon your Helper to amplify and maintain your Fiery Wall. Spend a few minutes praying and meditating on the Helper's power. They're bigger than you, and they've got your back. Here are some example prayers:

"Saint Michael Archangel, defend us in battle, be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil; may God rebuke him, we humbly pray."

“Mighty Warrior Athena, my cause is just. Look on me with favour in this struggle. May I prevail over my enemy who wishes me harm, and may [enemy] grow in wisdom and see the error of his ways.”

“O Fire of the Sun, long may you burn. Thou hearest me not, and yet I raise my voice to the sky that my foe might hear these magick words: F--k off eternally, thou son of a dog and camel.”

Blow out the enemy candle, savouring their withering disappointment at not being able to bother you anymore. Place the Helper item on your altar or somewhere you can see it every day. (If it's an amulet, you can wear it.) Dispose of the candles and other ritual items. Go about your business with a smile.

https://www.groveandgrotto.com/blogs/articles/the-fiery-wall-of-protection