#but I thought unconditional love meant unconditional tolerance

[rosereign]

My brothers aren’t here but being surrounded by my family just reminds me how much I love them. They are much more than the evil voices in my head 🫶🏽

[dcxdpdabbles]

Heyo! I've been loving the content! Especially new management, that was a phenomenal read. Was wondering if you had further thoughts or scenes on it or on the Single Dad Au? I think the only story I like better than these two is congratulations, it triplets!

Adore your work! Phenomenal!

Damian did not trust Daniel Fenton.

The man pretended like he wanted nothing from his Father besides his heart—not his wealth, not his influence, not his company, and not even his vast amount of skills.

Even Damian's mother—who was in love with Father for a time—could not conceal the knowledge that marrying Father would elevate her position in Grandfather's eyes. There was a time when Damian believed love—the romantic type—was not real, that it was unnecessary.

Since his arrival at Wayne Manor, he's learned to acknowledge that love does exist, but he still believes it's never unconditional. He knows that Fenton has to be after something. He attempted to find the answer, but as loath as he was to admit it, Damian had not detected any hit of what Fenton was after.

His hours of surveillance on the man only showed him that Fenton enjoyed writing for his silly little book series- a fantasy novelist how quant- but was self-published and did not attempt to get father to fund him

. Fenton also spent much time with his daughter but seemed happy to support her in anything she wanted as long as she put in the effort, so he was not after Father influenced her. Fenton had no interest in Wayne Enterprises, often looking a tad bored whenever Father spoke of it- not dismissive, just lost- which meant he wasn't after the company.

He discovered that Fenton lived modestly despite having a decent amount of funds. He was middle class and seemed rather happy to stay in the middle class.

Damian would have looked deeper into Fenton, but Father had caught on to his surveillance and had forbidden him from scaring away his lover. Knowing that he required backup, Damian had called a sibling meeting.

He was expecting better results than them just speaking about the benefits of Fenton and Father dating. They should focus on how to defend Father's heart once Fenton's true intentions become visible.

It wasn't that Fenton didn't love Father- or getting there- but he would have a darker side to him that Father was unprepared for. Damian was sure of it.

He just needed to find it.

That's why he approached the man's daughter. Indeed, she would open the opportunity to get closer to the man after his father without using his training to follow Fenton. Father could not fault his brilliant walkabout.

Damian was just not prepared for her to be more tolerable than the regular fools in Gotham. She was a fellow artist with a love of nature and travel.

She took him to different parts of Gotham, where they could find animals and wonderful buildings to draw. Dani also always shared her music—he didn't want to listen, but it allowed him to build a profile on her—and he found she also had an application for classical covers of pop music.

Dani also seemed so unbothered by anything. She moved as if she had never been weighed down by any issues. She was weightless but not lost. Seeing someone so at peace with themselves was odd, so Damian sometimes forgot why he was spending time with her.

Sometimes, he just relaxed with her and spoke to her, and really, she was far better than the fools his Father took in.

Dani one day asked if he would go with her to the mall. She wanted some new clothes, and Damian found that her style was rather artistic. This style also caused many stares from those close to their age.

He watched as she walked through the street, owning it with her presence and powerful, unchained personality. Then she acted like she didn't even care, though she definitely knew it.

That is why when she offered to help him buy an outfit, Damian agreed with far too much enthusiasm before she finished. He even wore it out of the store, feeling...like he got close to her unchained freedom. He kept glancing into the reflection of mirrors, a rish of glee at how great he felt in clothes that he would have scoffed at.

He also appreciated how people gawked at them as if they were the most fascinating thing they had ever seen. Damina enjoyed following beside Dani's stride, grinning up at her as she told jokes.

"Dude, it's crazy to think that if our Dads get married, we'll be siblings," she says one day, and Damian startles. She leans over, helping him adjust the beanie she got him, a more blurt red of her own, and Damian's eyes go very wide as she grins at him.

Damian's eyes go very wide.

He hadn't even thought of that.

He races home after she takes him to a slam poetry night, snapping her fingers with that interesting, peaceful, fully in-the-moment-without-stress personality of hers.

Damian kicks the door to Father's office and shouts, "Father, you must marry Daniel Fenton at once!"

He misses that Fenton is also there, sipping from a teacup. He'd never seen Father look that embarrassed before, either. Though Fenton seemed rather pleased, which helped his new quest of making Dani his new, much more enjoyable sister that left him in awe.

She promised to take him to her favorite store for more pastel goth outfits next week, too. Once her father marries in, they might turn it into a weekly thing.

[copias-sewer-rat]

IN HIS IMAGE [SECONDO x f!reader] - CHAPTER II

Secondo is absent and you deeply miss him, what antics will you too come up with to make the separation a bit more tolerable?

Welcome to the 1% plot of this fic. I wanted to try something fantastical/ritualistic for this one, hope you don’t mind.

tw/tags: smut, +18 warning, established relationship, m/f relationship, phone sex, dirty talk, use of sex toys, satanic ritual mention, mention of dagger, semi public sex (kinda?), dom!Secondo, possesive Secondo, p in v action, cowboy. 3.7K words

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You feel fucking lonely.

Secondo had left for a business trip, for a week! How dared he? Didn’t he know how much you love him? How much you miss him? It is only Wednesday, he is supposed to come back on Sunday. You cannot take it anymore, wearing his clothes, chatting with him, looking at his pictures, everything makes you even sadder and you are at your limit.

There is something you could do, something to quiet the ache existing between your legs (and in your heart, but right now your pussy is winning the battle against your heart). A few weeks back you had acquired a dildo with the form of your lover’s shaft… However, the thought of using it alone felt almost sacrilegious… good thing then that you were a Satanist. Good fucking thing…

————

A month earlier…

The altar was dimly lit with a few black candles and the light of the full moon hovering over the chapel. Secondo stood there, atop of the set of stairs, preparing the altar. A beautiful ornate dagger in his hands, a simple dark green robe covering his body, the same one you were wearing. It was cold but somehow you could feel Secondo’s body heat reaching to you from the considerable distance that separated you both. The Olde one must have been present, must have known how much you long for each other.

“It is ready, tesoro. Are you sure you want to do this?” You smiled at him, going up the stairs slowly, meticulously, without breaking eye contact. “I know what you said cara, but this bond is meant to last forever… Are you absolutely sure?”

You grabbed his face, careful to not smudge his paints, looking into his powerful gaze, his eyes full of love. After your first adventure with the dildo, you had opened up to Secondo. Everything that worried you about the relationship, all that you felt and still feel about him: pure and unconditional love, but also anguish. Feeling like only a side plate, just a peaceful place for him to return to and nothing more. Secondo’s gaze softened when you had told him. Guilt wasn’t an emotion that he was used to feel, but when it comes to you… He felt guilty for not noticing it, for neglecting that side of your relationship for so long. After that, the laid his true feelings for you bare, raw, passionate. He also loved you deeply, fervently, eternally. He wanted to make everything official with you, it was not that he felt ashamed of being seen with you, he was afraid that the pressure, the title, the responsibilities and of himself. He feared that he would scared you off if he let you in completely. He knows better since then that you are there to stay, forever, no matter what.

“Caro, I love you, and I want to be with you always. I think that’s not too much to ask, is it?” You put your index finger over your closed lips, a mocking gesture of pondering. Secondo couldn’t avoid to laugh at your antics.

“I think that that is the most noble of reasons, tesoro…” He answered, grabbing your hand in his and pecking your lips. Before he could part you returned the kiss, a loving confirmation of your devotion. He closed his eyes and when you separated you were already looking at him when he opened them again.

“Yes, my love, I am sure…”

Without any other words he started to chant in perfect Latin, a prayer he had learned by heart so he could just focus on you, nothing else. He laid you on top of the altar, revealing your naked self to him and he did the same, taking his robe off and tossing it to the ground. Secondo took your hips, his face dimly lit by the candles, harsh shadows marking his features, his mouth still chanting in Latin something that you could not understand:

“Duo unum sunt.

Domine satanas buius caritatis testis mugire,

aeterne.”

He took you there, made love to you, so sweetly. The dagger came to play later, he made you drink from him and he drank from you. Then, he came inside of you and you came around him. Lustful union, eternal.

————

Present day…

You pick your phone, sending a quick message to your partner:

‘Caro, are you free to talk?’

‘Aren’t we talking?’

‘I mean like in a phone call!’

‘ah…’

‘What you mean ah?! Are you free or not?!’

‘I was just teasing tesoro… relax… what has gotten into you?’

‘Nothing… I just miss you…’

‘Oh, you sweet thing. Give me due minuti.’

‘Okay… thank you.’

You wait, so impatiently, and then you remember that you need to get it ready. Quickly you sprint towards your bedroom wardrobe and retrieve the object you long for: the dildo. It looks like the first day, big, wide, a bit fantastical but so unmistakably him. You want for Secondo to know how much you actually miss him, how deeply you want to feel him… all-the-time.

You rush back to your bed and take off your pajama pants, leaving you only dressed with one of Secondo’s old tees and your black lace panties, one of Secondo’s favorite pairs . The shirts are always too big for you, but you do not care. Secondo himself was known for being somewhat of a monster in terms of size (all the sizes). Being as tall as some of the tallest ghouls, buff and a bit tender, soft tum, perfect to lay your head against to take a nap, voluptuous man boobs and a firm butt and thighs. He is also very strong, like dead lifting strong. Even at his age he was able to carry you around using only one arm.

You began to picture it, Secondo lifting you up, slapping your ass like a raw piece of meat, whispering in your ear all the depravities he is going to do to you… You start to feel hot again, your nipples poking the cold fabric of the shirt and you take a whiff of it. It smells like expensive alcohol, mint and burnt wood… and of his sweat. You asked him to wear a couple of shirts before he left so you could wear them yourself. This particular one, an old Missfits tee, was one of his favorites (and yours too). Particularly, he had worn it right before he left, while exercising. You saw him lifting himself on the exercise bar that hangs on your bathroom door, wearing only a pair of boxers, which absolutely let on the fact that he was hard all the time while exercising, and that tee… let’s say that the boxers didn’t stay on for far too long after that.

The memory is enough to get you soaking wet. You are about to act on your desires when suddenly the phone rings. You groan, but then you remember who is going to be at the other way of the phone call.

“Hello handsome…” You say, trying to sound seductive, but it sounds more needy than anything.

“Buonasera cuore mio… Is there anything wrong?”

“Yes… a lot of things actually, but first… are you alone?” You ask, a playful grin adorning your lips.

“Si… I had to excuse myself on behalf of a very urgent phone call… They told me I could use a private office to do so…”

“Good… the matter is very urgent indeed.”

“What is it tesoro? Are you hurt?” Secondo asks and you have to use all the will power in you to keep a straight face.

“Yes, I am caro, very hurt. My feelings are hurt, I miss you so much I cannot sleep, I want you to hold me close, I want to feel you everywhere, to make me yours again…” There is a long pause… you can only hear Secondo’s deep breaths, not in an exasperated manner, but in a trying to control himself way.

“Tesoro… we had a very long goodbye session to avoid these kinds of issues, remember?” You blush at the memory.

“Well… yes…” you answer, trying to sound hurt “it is your fault thatI need you all the time…”

“Maybe it is…” Secondo agrees with a thinking tone. “Do you have any idea that might lessen your pain tesoro?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I do.” He hums, trying to control himself, but you can hear his elaborate breathing through the speaker. “I have remembered that there is something here with me that can help me… maybe you could guide me with it?”

“Oh, glorioso Satana. Do you have it with you now?”

“I do.”

“Bene…”

“What should I do first Papa?” You ask, sounding so submissive, so ready for him.

“Fucking- first you should take off your pants dear…”

“Already done sweetie. I am wearing nothing but your shirt and my lacy black panties.” You hear a deep groan at the other side of the call.

“Tesoro, you know how much I love those… and you are wearing my shirt… holy fuck you must look so fucking perfetta… so sinful, so tempting, la mia mela…” The tone is sultry, slow, sensual… how bad you wish you had him in front of you. His breath slows down, it sounds heavy, it even feels heavy. It is wet, needy, full of lust and you can only swoon.

“More caro, tell me more… what next?” You ask, biting your lip.

“Mmmm, remove your panties for me you sweet thing, slowly… leave the shirt on, I want it back smelling of you, of your arousal…” It is inevitable, the moan that escapes you and you want him to hear it so badly. You do as he says, the wetness in you getting hit by how cold the air of the room feels. The contrast makes you shiver slightly, but it only feels uncomfortable for a moment.

“It is done, I am bare now but for your shirt.”

“Fuck… give me a moment dear…” The sound of fabric rustling does not escape you, neither does the sound of the zipper going down. He must be getting his cock out of the confinement of his pants.

“What are you doing caro?” You ask knowingly, trying to hold a giggle.

“I am letting my fucking cock free so I can fuck you like you deserve my sweet…” You blush, deeply. “Nothing else but my cock can fuck you, only me… only my cock.”

“Yes Papa…” You agree and he groans. He must have done something, how badly you wish you could see him. However, the intrigue… it fuels your imagination to no end. In your mind he is in front of your, sitting comfortably on the armchair at the other corner of the room, guiding you, stroking his cock, groaning in pleasure, telling you how good you are fucking his cock.

You are waiting for something, a word, a command. Secondo is taking his time, teasing you. He knows how imaginative you are and he is letting you suffer. That fucker…

“Caro, please… What should I do now?” You whine and Secondo chuckles deeply. He is pleasuring himself, you imagine and you almost want to do the same yourself, fuck his orders, you want to fuck him so badly it is eating you from the inside.

“Così poca pazienza… Va bene, spit on your hand and stroke my cock with it dear, I need it nice and wet for you…” You do, slowly but surely you coat his entire member with your spit. It feels a little weird doing this to a dildo, but then you hear Secondo’s soft moans and you know the ritual is indeed working. The dildo is even emiting some sort of bluish glow and then you know. He is before you, you are stroking his real cock and it feels so warm.

“Brava ragazza, I can fucking feel you, your hand… is that weird?” He asks and your breath fastens.

“I can feel you, my love. Your dick, it is so big… fuck…”

“Cazzo, tesoro… I am going to fuck you… so much, so good, so perfect per me…”

“Please, Secondo, please fuck me already. Don’t tease me any longer.”

“Such a beggar, so needy for my cock… Sit on it my sweet, and let me hear you.”

You oblige once again, grabbing the toy. Sitting on your knees, you lift yourself up a bit and place the dildo right bellow you and descend slowly until you fill it rubbing your entrance. It is difficult, but you manage to sink on it with only one hand, the other one busy holding your phone, a very desperate Secondo breathing your moans through the machine.

“Fucking hell, fuck, fuck, fuck, so big…”

“Ecco, mia cara, stai andando così bene, prendimi intero…” He says as you slowly as you continue your descend, Secondo’s form stretching you. Suddenly, it is filling you entirely and you gasp. You know your knees will be hurting in the morning, but you don’t give a shit. What matters is that he is inside of you, you can feel him, pulsating inside, a faint glow coming for your wet entrance. The ritual did indeed fucking work.

“What are you doing now tesoro?”

“I am seating on you cock, gosh, it is so big, so perfect. The perfect fit.”

“Fuck… move up and down for me bella and let me hear how wet you are against my cock…” You do as he says and put the phone on speaker, placing it on the bed next to where the action is happening. You lift yourself slowly and then go back down with force, gasping for air once again once you make it all the way down again. “Dammit, that sounded so fucking wet, and I can feel it, your pussy, so tight… Is it all in?” Secondo asks almost without breath.

“It… it is, my love, you feel so good… I have missed you so much…”

“Tesoro, I have missed you so much as well… cazzo.” You wish you could see him right now, he must be so fucking hard.

“What are you doing, caro?”

“I am fucking deep inside of you, that’s what… And I am going to let you ride me, baby. Can you do that for me?” No words leave your lips, just a simple hum of confirmation. “Brava. Lean over and place your hands on the mattress, imagine it is my pecs.”

“Yeah… dear Satan bellow…” You moan, as you feel the dildo move slightly out of you, granting some relief.

“Very good, that’s it. Now rise your hips slowly.” You do as he says and the dildo slowly gets further from your core. “Now start with a rhythmic motion, circular, up and down, take whatever you need from me my dear…”

You are too lost to do anything else, Secondo’s voice feeling like master guiding every move of a puppet. You go up and down, feeling his actual heat, his twitching, his very form. Your hands even if they are on top of the mattress do not feel the soft sheets, but a pair of hairy pecks, hard and voluptuous.

“Caro, ah- where are you?” You ask, trying to fuel your mental image of him.

“I- I am on top of a desk, laying up, shit- I can feel you on top of me tesoro… can you feel me too?”

“I fucking can Secondo, holy shit… You are right here with me- ah- fuck- so good…” You moan, when you feel a pair of hands grabbing your thighs. “Fuck me! FUCK! Secondo I need to go faster… can I go faster? Please-ah?” The plead escaping you with the remnants of your breath.

“Donna peccatrice, cazzo, vai più veloce per me… yes, my love, go fucking faster.”

You pick up the pace, the circular motions long forgotten, you are just going up and down and you swear that there is a noise of flesh hitting flesh in the room. You wonder if Secondo can hear it too. The wetness inside is out of this world. You have learned by heart how Secondo feels, his muscles, his body hair, his mouth finding all the spots that make you wild, his cock… How he parts your folds with it with such ease, how he thrusts into you like you were about to disappear, trying to keep you by his side with each slam of his hips. This is something else, the ritual must have enhanced your lust, your core is already tight, you are holding for dear life. In this position it feels like he is impaling you, the erect member between your legs like a sword thrusting to hit the exact spot that will make you cry of pleasure.

There is no sound for a moment, just muffled hums, praises and curses filled with lust. You feel like you are abandoning your body, going to a plane above this one, the ecstasies filling every inch of your body with every movement of your hips.

“Tesoro, I need to see you, per favore-ah-cazzo. You are taking me so well, I need to see your tits fucking bouncing in front of me. I need to see your face while you cum around my fucking cock ah-ah- I know you are close, I can feel it, so deep inside, it is making me go wild, tesoro.” As best as you can, you video call him, placing your phone on the pillows in front of you, trying for your whole form to be visible for him. One ring, two, then he picks up.

Secondo looks like a beautiful mess. He has placed the phone on a chair facing the desk he is lying on. His dick bouncing with every movement you do, his chest covered by a black shirt that is a couple of buttons away from being completely open. A necklace of the Ghost project falling from his chest… You don’t see his papal robes so you assume he has discarded them somewhere in the room. Once he sees you, his t-shirt hugging your sides, your pussy meeting and letting his cock in and out with such ease, the dildo glistening with your juices and the small glow from the ritual… his mouth just hangs open in pleasure.

“Fucking shit, my love, la mia colomba perfetta, amore della mia vita, sei così perfetta, così bisognosa, così lussuriosa…” You open your mouth to let out a silent scream while you observe Secondo raising his arm. His clothed finger finds your open mouth as it always does and you suck hungrily, your tongue twirling around the invisible digit. “Fuck I can feel your wet mouth around my finger, that fucking ritual… the best decision we have ever done.” You can only hum around his finger, bouncing like a happy rabbit. “Let me feel you more, you are doing so good for your Papa. I fucking love your tight pussy, your tits, your ass, so fucking ah- good.” He takes his finger from your mouth and aligns it alongside his other one to where your tits are supposed to be. He looks at you, tears wheeling in your eyes, lost in divine pleasure and he goes for it, testing the reach of the lust ritual.

He grabs your tits with force, an once again faint glow meeting his touch, his thumbs caressing your hardened nipples under your shirt. Fuck, you can feel him under your shirt. Secondo manhandles your tits expertly and you just lean back a bit, throwing your hands from his pecs to his thighs, digging your nails into them.

“Fuck Secondo, fuck, I am going to cum, I- fuck, fuck, fuck me- ah, I am going to cum, I- I-” You scream, the tightening in your abdomen getting more and more desperate by the second, you have been holding it for a while, waiting for Secondo to get there as well.

“Cazzo, tesoro, come together with me, feel my seed inside of you, let me fill you up, my precious little thing…”

With a couple of more thrusts you explode, the walls of your pussy contracting around the toy and also Secondo’s cock. Through your phone you can see it, his cock getting milked, your invisible walls clenching his member into blissful release, the glow around his member shinning brightly while you cum. He does as well, shooting ropes into you, and you can feel them, his hot seed filling you up. Not only that, you can see it. Through tearful eyes you see his release hitting your walls and falling into his balls and him legs. His teeth are clenched and his hands are grabbing your tits with even more force, trying to get the most pleasure out of the moment. He is so far gone that he even draws a bit of blood from his lips.

Everything feels otherworldly, the light in the room like halos, the glow from the places you are touching each other slowly fading, your shared breaths filling your ears and you suddenly collapse on the bed, as many times before. With the motion the dildo gets out from you and Secondo gasps.

The t-shirt is wet with your sweat, but it still smells like him, you sniff as you hum contently. Secondo composes himself quickly and grabs the phone. He sees you laying on the bed, a blissful smile adorning your face, your eyes closed with exhaustion and he smiles back.

“Tesoro…” he whispers “are you ok?” You just nod slightly. “You need to clean yourself my dear…” You shake your head. “My love… I need to go, please know that I love you and… I cannot wait to see you again…”

“I- I love- you…too” the phrase comes alongside a yawn, your eyes still closed, they feel too heavy, as if every bit of energy had been taken from you.

Secondo ends the call, gets himself to look decent and parts from the office room. Of course, his mind is already rummaging on what to do to you next with this newfound power of lust.

----

Italian /Latintranslations:

la mia mela: my own apple

così poca pazienza… va bene: such little patience… ok

brava ragazza: good girl

per me: for me

ecco, mia cara, stai andando così bene, prendimi intero: that’s it, my dear you are doing so well, take me whole.

Duo unum sunt. Domine satanas buius caritatis testis mugire, aeterne: Two become one. Lord Satan bellow be witness of this love, eternal.

Donna peccatrice, cazzo, vai più veloce per me: Sinful woman, fuck, go faster for me

La mia colomba perfetta, amore della mia vita, sei così perfetta, così bisognosa, così lussuriosa: My perfect dove, love of my life, you look so fucking perfect, so needy, so lustful.

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[charredstarling]

Just some shadow work

Why do you hold grudges: Because if i let go, i have to reckon with what happened. if they arnt really as terrible as i thought then theres a chance that it wasnt their fault that i was hurt. it also calls into question the abusers that i do not forgive, what if they arnt that bad either? and that train of thought had led me right back into the arms of those who hurt me on multiple occasions. Its safer to hate a select few than to doubt the validity of my trauma.

Why do you feel undeserving of love: because for most of my life i wasnt shown love unconditionally, i was only shown praise when i did my very best. otherwise i was yelled at or hurt because i wasnt doing good enough. even when i wasnt doing anything wrong i was punished, and i carry that with me today. i do not let myself feel loved unless i believe that i am doing the very best that i could be doing, and i rarely ever feel like i am doing good enough. i motivate myself by yelling and screaming and hurting myself because its what pushed me when i was younger, but now it doesnt do anything good for me. when i am shown love i feel confused and doubtful, because unconditional love feels fake to me.

How often do you lie to yourself: Every day from the second i wake up to the second i fall asleep. I say i am ok and that i feel fine and that i can handle all of this on my own and its a blatant lie and everyone around me knows it. i cant admit consistently that i am not capable of handling all of this on my own, and i also cannot ask for help because i feel unworthy of it. it is my job to handle all of this so that others dont have to. but that isnt fair to me, and i lie and say that its ok and that life isnt fair. i lie when i say i love myself and i lie when i say that im doing good because thats all surface level, i havent even started breaking down my old thought patterns yet. and i shouldnt have to alone because rebuilding oneself is a monumental feat. but in my mind i am a burden and i must do this alone, so that maybe someday someone will be able to tolerate me in full.

What emotions do you avoid feeling: anger. i never learned to process it properly and so no matter how justified it is i end up scaring myself out of feeling it. i worry that feeling angry means i will hurt people, because i was hurt when others were angry. thats when i was abused, when they were angry. and i fear that just the action of feeling that anger will unleash some hidden abusive monster inside of me and ill go around attacking everyone i see.

How can you face that feeling: sitting with it when i feel it. just letting it run through my system without trying to distract myself. letting my mind construct whatever arguments or insults it wants and ranting to friends until ive felt all i can feel for that moment.

How can you motivate yourself: by being gentle. i need to stop trying to use fear as a motivator and start using my passion as a motivator. and to do that i need to step away from fear, i need to be gentle with myself and forgiving of my misteps.

What has love taught you: that i am beautiful and kind and smart and amazing. and that i am compassionate and enjoyable and funny. love has taught me that i am not some horrible broken thing, that i am a person just like anyone else. love has taught me that i am deserving, and that people are kind and that they do care.

What has loss taught you: That life is something to cherish, and that no amount of time will feel like enough. and that sometimes its better to let go or to leave. and that some people arnt meant to stay, some people werent all that great in retrospect. loss has taught me to be scared of it, because to be abandoned is to lose. but loss has also taught me to greive, and to cry, and to scream. loss has taught me how to process things, how to feel. in some loss there is a relief, a comfort. in some there is an anger. loss has guided me

What are you hiding from others: that im actually just a scared animal thats wandering around hoping that i figure something out. that i am not actually all that wise, i am just hurt. that i am not all that in touch with myself and that its all a front to try and avoid the truth. the truth is that i am a wounded scared animal wandering around in a hostile world with no clue what i should be doing. i cannot tend to my wounds lest someone else notices they are there, and i cannot ask for help lest someone sees me as a pet or a project.

What can you learn from time: That i cannot stop it, i cannot make it slow, but i can rest. i can rest as long as i need. i cannot expect the world to stop spinning but i can expect others who live in this sea of time to be understanding. we are all here together in the same storm.

[like-rain-or-confetti]

I know what I said about angst But:

Rogue had a huge fight with his 16 year old kid and the kid ran away. 2 month pass without them and the police come to his door to say that they've died. He gets their stuff and in the bag there's a diary with his kid's thoughts about how he regrets what they said and wants to talk to their dad but is too afraid he's still too angry at them.

Riddler, Scarecrow, MH, T-F, BM

Give me heartbreak.

YUMM YUMM I'LL TAKE ALL OF THIS THANK YOUUU

Dad Always Loves You

For two months your father waited for you to come home. He waited for you to see reason. He had no doubt you were saying away so long to prove a point, the only way you could really hurt him. Seeing the GCPD and not getting arrested was definitely rare but they'd give anything have been arrested that day. They'd take a million life sentences if it meant that day went different. The day they were told their child's body was found. Their villainous antics only escalated to brutal heights. It was the only way to consistently let out their grief. They found comfort in sitting in their child's room, being in the presence of their things- All they had left. They were no where near ready to even consider getting rid of your things. Infact, they didn't want to lose anything else when it came to their child. The GCPD handed them a book. It was their child's diary. They read it- not to invade their child's privacy but to feel closer to them. They weren't prepared for the last entry. The last day he saw them. They had written about the argument, their feelings they felt they couldn't tell their father. The desire to reconcile but the fear that their father was still angry. That hurt even more. Knowing their child died thinking their father was angry with them.

The Riddler: His weakness was his ego, but he had another that was less apparent. People like Jonathan Crane could see it from a mile away. His need to be loved. Edward spent his life lonely, so what better way to gain unconditional love than the love of a child? His child, no less. A true addiction to be loved and seen in the eyes of an adoring child. Where you could make no mistakes...you were the best person in the world. He was addicted to that. Plus you were more tolerable than other children- you were his after all. That made you as perfect as a child could be. That didn't change as you grew older although you didn't see him as faultless as you once did. Regardless, inexcusably, he still loved you. He was unable to imagine his life without you in it. Parents weren't supposed to outlive their children...so why did he outlive his? It felt like a cruel joke. To give him something he hadn't wanted, wait until he grew completely attached before ripping it away from him. He couldn't understand what made you think you couldn't come back to him. He spent many sleepless nights theorising. Searched your room from top to bottom for even a hint to an answer that he sought. His perfect memory allowed him to maintain the room exactly as it was left before his thorough search. All of this to distract him from an unavoidable truth. He was alone again. Loneliness was something like torture to him and with the pain of losing his child, the loneliness was unbearable.

Scarecrow: Beyond the pain was something else. Fear. The more he acknowledged it the more he couldn't ignore it. The fear building along with his grief. He swallowed hard before let out a shaky breath. This was a new sensation to Jonathan, a creeping thought that had begun to take up residence in his mind. Guilt was something he wasn't acquainted with. Yet he felt fear knowing he had become what he had feared once more. This time, in the eyes of his only child. The one good thing of his life. How long had you felt you couldn't approach him? He knew he was difficult but he couldn't stomach the idea that you had spent your final days thinking you couldn't return to him. If you had, you'd still be alive. This was his fault. He ruined your life. He had failed as a father just as his guardians had failed him time after time. This was his fault. He hugged the diary close to his chest and finally sobbed. He couldn't forgive this. He couldn't forgive himself.

Mad Hatter: Jervis couldn't hold back his emotions very well. He sank to his knees. Jervis feels wronged by the world, again. He took all of it. He was still here after all. However, this time...this time was the worst thing that had ever happened. He clutched the diary to his chest as he screamed, sobbing profusely. Revenge wouldn't be far behind but on this night, Jervis could do nothing but cry on your bed, curled up in a ball as he clutched your diary. The last thing he had of yours. A permanent reminder of what you were thinking and feeling right to the very end. It tore him apart but he didn't dare let it go. Your room and that diary stayed in tact. Even when if moving, he took your stuff with him. You were very dear to his heart and he'd never let you go. He wished he could forget you were gone. He wanted to pretend, even for a little while that you were going to walk through the door any minute and wrap your arms around him. He wanted it to be real. "It's okay, dad."

Two-Face: The day he got those burns was the day he lost everything. His wife. His world. His mind. None of it was as it was before. He mourned it and it still festered in him. The pain, the suffering. The rage. He missed the life he had but couldnt return to it. He wasn't the same man after all. It didn't take long after that there was nothing left to return to. He had accepted he'd never have anything close to that life again. That was until you. You didn't see a painful reminder as what he once was like he did...like Gilda did. If anything saved him in the end, it was you. He had a reason to get up in the morning. He had no idea something so precious could come from a hookup with a random woman. He hadn't even known her name. She hadn't wanted children and was eager to pass you off the second you were born. That didn't matter, Harvey wanted you. Harvey wanted you the moment he laid eyes on you. You had made him happier than he had felt in years. So why did it end now? Why like this? How did this happen? How can someone lose everything again? How was he supposed to survive? He knew what he had become after the burns, after Gilda left. What did he have to change inside to survive again? He faced more suffering to find you hadn't stayed away because you wanted to. You had stayed away because, in the end, you were scared to come home to him. Scared that he wouldn't have had you back in his arms in a heartbeat and he would have. No matter what you could have said or done, nothing would have stopped him from bringing you into his arms. It's what he waited for. He waited for two months for you to come home. Not the GCPD! Harvey didn't know what else do to than spend the foreseeable future drinking, hoping with every glass that it's drown the agony of his loss. Drown the agony of his second chance become nothing but a memory that lived on in his mind.

Black Mask: His first instinct was to not believe it, if he denied it, it'd go away. That's how it worked right? He was Roman Sionis. Although that instince didn't even last a second before being washed away by his grief. He promised you. He promised himself he'd be a better parent than his own and he tried so hard every day. It felt like you had been ripped away from him. His anger, as it usually did, got in the way and it kept you from him. Now look where it got you. He locks himself away, unable to even so much look at your room or let anyone in it. It was locked and Roman held the key. He failed to protect you once. He'd be damned if he let it happen again. So he kept your room off limits to anyone, even himself. In the mean time, his violence was only more heightened, he killed many more by his own hands over a gun any day. It was the only way he knew to let put his anger. That ways seemed to stay. His anger. It caused your death. He caused your death and yet that anger remained. He obsessively took others like you were taken from him. If he had to feel this agony then he wasn't going to be the only one. Many nights consistent of Roman looking at your photographs and letting out a tearful. "I'm sorry." It was almost alien to him to apologise but he meant it with everything. In the end it was too painful to ever explain who you were to those who asked about the one in the photograph by his desk.

[academicdisasterfic]

hello what abt number 10 for the prompts 👀

hello my darling dearest bee! i hope this makes you as happy as your friendship makes me <333

number ten from love confessions prompts list here.

10. “You never believe me! If I told you right now that I love you, would you even believe me?”

Draco stared at the letter. It was crumpled, smudged, almost illegible, but Draco had spent many years learning to read Harry's scrawling script, and he was now standing in the middle of their living room with too much knowledge and no idea what to do with it.

Hi Narcissa, My apologies for the late transfer. Something to do with changing systems at Gringott's - I've rectified the situation and directed your landlord to contact me directly in the case of another missed payment. I hope this place is better than the last - still working on getting the Malfoy deed transferred to you and Draco. Shouldn't be too much longer. Your ex-husband is still being a right cunt difficult. Draco is looking better, isn't he? I think he likes living here. In reference to your (very inappropriate) last comment - no, it's nothing to do with anything like that. I wouldn't put that kind of pressure on him, no matter how I felt. Let me know how the interviews go this week, H

Draco was still clutching the letter and trying not to hyperventilate when Harry walked in through the Floo, the scent of tikka masala following him.

'I got us both garlic naan tonight! And extra rice, and a--oh.'

Harry halted, his eyes huge and his Auror robes rumpled and his expression panicked and everything about him made Draco ache with love.

'I meant--I meant to send that this morning.'

'Yes,' Draco said, looking down at it again and clearing his throat. 'So. My mother doesn't have a job.'

Harry slowly lowered the bags to the ground and took off his scarf, not taking his eyes off Draco.

'No, she doesn't.'

Draco nodded. 'And you--you've--' He couldn't even finish that thought. The enormity of what Harry was doing hadn't quite sunk in.

'I didn't mean to lie to you--'

'Why didn't you tell me?'

'Draco.' Harry pushed his palms into his eyes and sighed. 'You're--I know this is a situation where I have quite a lot of power, and I didn't want to make you feel like--I don't know, like you owed me anything.'

'I owe you everything,' Draco said softly, and Harry made a choked noise.

'No, Draco, I'm not doing this so you feel indebted to me in any way--it's wrong, what happened to you and your mother, it's just wrong, and you deserved help--'

'No, I didn't. I don't. And I don't know how you can look past that--and the fact that you can even tolerate me--let alone feel anything towards me--'

'See!' Harry looked at the ceiling, his Adam's apple working. 'You never believe me! My god--I don't just feel--if I told you right now that I love you, would you even believe me?'

Draco's breath stuttered, and he looked at the letter again. Harry kept talking, pointedly not looking at him.

'And it doesn't matter if you do, and it doesn't matter if you don't love me back, because you were never meant to find out and it doesn't change anything at all - this is your home too now, and that's unconditional, and my care for you is unconditional, and I'm not going to be another bastard who uses you--'

Draco crossed the room in three strides, took Harry's head in his hands, and kissed him.

And kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him.

'You really are the most oblivious idiot in the world,' Draco muttered against his lips, still revelling in their warmth, their softness, 'if you think I don't love you with everything that I am.'

[outrunningthedark]

If Eddie's parents are anything like mine, Eddie could be a trained professional with raising children with disabilities (someone actually good at his job, unlike someone else we had on screen ehem) and they would still criticize his every move and decision and thought concerning Chris. Eddie could've proven his better at Ramon's job a thousand times over and they would still not think he's doing it right. They'd criticize and treat him like /theirs/ to control and maneuver, anyway. Little offhand comments they "don't even realize" are hurtful, much like we've seen the Buckley parents, possibly less obvious ones, where people could gloss over it thinking "ah but they meant well". And that's what they would say "we're doing this bc we love you" & "we only want what's best for you" - and they won't know anything about Eddie's PTSD or other struggles and they'll still think they know more and better than him. A little bit of "tough love" - ofc Eddie would be trained to "stick it out" and feel like the only way to make it out of their grappling grips is to run away, bc those kinds of parents don't give up. They would be homophobic but low-key once Eddie comes out and pretend to accept him as a sign of their "unconditional love" and the "goodness of their hearts" and yet will hold secret resentment and not so secretive judgement. They'll always try to tell him he should sacrifice every bit of himself for family. no one who doesn't fold to their will or is different, will ever be good enough for him. Only they would know what's best for Eddie, and only they would love him "right". All of this extends to Christopher, in the sense that they would consider Christopher as something that belongs to them, bc ofc Eddie wouldn't know well enough ever. They'd have the same tolerance as the Buckley parents when it came to mistakes. They would be the kind to look at young child Eddie and not give him privacy or anything of his own, they'd reprimand and punish him and then have a good at him for "ruining everyone else's say!" just because he wasn't smiling. He wouldn't be allowed to get angry, bc that would be him "act dumb" and make more of those mistakes that he could've avoided if only he always did what he was told. They might have learned to apologize but they make the same mistakes. That's where Eddie learned the repression. And hell, when Christopher came along, Eddie found a person putting himself through all that that made it worth it. That's why he tries to go for what he's supposed to, for that "perfect family" with whatsherface. But Christopher is also the variable that allows him to break from what he's learned.

We see Eddie be soft with Chris, see him on his level, working with him, being open with him, not just being authoritative and demanding and restrictive.

And along comes Buck, who also responds so. fucking. well. to these new little ways, these new paths and languages Eddie learned with Chris. He starts to feel what 'real family's feels like.

But if you havent dealt with your past yet, it will come back to haunt you, you can't yet break free, can't completely be yourself and live a new life. That's where Eddie is right now. It feels like something is breaking and this is where he might think his parents were right. Because that's what he was always taught. In words and 3 decades of behavior.

I would find it hard to believe that these would ever understand Buck, as a presence in Eddie's life, and Christopher's. Not without resistance. Not until Buck showed them steadily and for a while, that they are wrong. Not until there is irrefutable evidence. And even then they'll think "oh you would've gotten to a happy place like this faster if you would have done it our way"

...long story short, I have many feels about Eddie and family and repression and I know we didn't have "that much" of Eddie's parents on screen but what we have had, hell it speaks volumes and volumes.

2/2 Oh and another addition to the Eddie ask bc it probably plays a role: when you're a minority growing up in a white Western world, your parents strive for perfection to prove to everyone that they can do it- they can fit in, they can be just as good, better. And ofc their children: they're just another greater extension of that. Live the best of both worlds, all words, their children can be everything all at once- their children better make use of this opportunity, make THE MOST out of every little chance they get or else they're squandering, throwing away something easy. That's why mistakes can't be made. Just listen, be obedient, be as efficient as unnaturally possible, be better bc the path has already been cut ahead for you, it's simple. They don't consider how much weight they are putting, how any expectations they are pushing, urging, asking the children to prove that they are just enough. That's what we've heard Eddie talk about before, just being enough. Similar as to how Buck feels too. And that's why their love is so beautiful? Bc these two dudes don't mince their words/actions respectively to try and make the other believe that they are just that. More than enough. Worthy of love, regardless. And naturally, Chris has gotta grow up that way, not like them, with this deep aching trench in their hearts, deep shadows of fear making it gape - fear that they'll never be able to fill this cavity that is their existence. (Also a reason why they're firefighters and throwing their lives on the line constantly for other people) ----------- Nonnie, I can tell you relate to Eddie's storyline as strongly as I relate to Christopher's, so this ask is really for anyone who has these same feelings and perhaps wants to add commentary of their own.

[subconscious-thoughts]

Fall In Love with Someone's Strength

Everyone deserves love, everyone deserves to be accepted, and everyone deserves to be understood too.

No one is perfect; we all have our "weaknesses", our flaws, our dark side, red flags, and/or toxic character traits.

There's nothing wrong with falling in love, there's nothing morally wrong in believing you can change someone with your love, there's nothing wrong with still caring about someone who hurts you on purpose or unconsciously.

But understand that these beliefs have consequences whether you like to admit it or not, and if you're like me who's affected by the consequences of these beliefs. Come join me, let's take some time to reflect.

Currently, I have a friend right now who is staying in a somewhat unhealthy relationship. One thing she told me that stuck with me is that she fell in love with this guy's "weakness", his "vulnerability" she says. I don't know about you guys, but to me people having a vulnerable side is a normal thing. It's just a matter of people opening it up, but either way it's still normal to me when people show their vulnerable side. It could be because of my mindset of always expecting the duality in people.

But why am I stuck at this? Why do I keep going back to what she said? There's something about loving someone because of their weaknesses that bothers me. Because I too, used to think the same thing. I used to be attracted and motivated to get into relationships with people who show their "other side", cause I thought seeing someone's vulnerable side meant I was special and that this person trusted me. (Which is true, but only the part that they trusted me).

That was the problem, it made me feel special. It was like a subliminal way of getting someone's approval that felt so addictively satisfying to have. But... if recent experiences have taught me anything is that, loving someone because of their flaws? Will guarantee that they will take advantage of you.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying we should suddenly up and leave or villify someone for having flaws. That's not my point, my point is we shouldn't give someone a reason to continue what they know is wrong. Right? The best we can do is understand and accept the way that they are, but just because you love them doesn't mean you should tolerate their misbehaviors. Especially misbehaviors that can usually drain the life out of you.

So it just occured to me, that when we fall in love. It's best that we fall in love with someone's strength(s). (Honesty, compassion, intelligence, patience, etc.) because our love, is the reward. If psychology has taught me anything, people are susceptible to operant conditioning especially in relationships.

When you reward a behavior, they will continue that behavior. In this context; if you reward a toxic behavior with love, then they will continue that toxic behavior. If you reward good behavior with love, then they will continue that good behavior.

If you say that "If they really loved me then they would change." Duh.

But we have to understand that we're not, "not loving" them by telling them to stop their misbehaviors. By setting boundaries we protect our hearts (which we should), and we are able to continue our relationship with them in a healthy and sustainable manner.

Love should be free and unconditional, yes. But our hearts have its limits, we all know it. If we are unconditionally accepting others, shouldn't we be also doing the same for ourselves?

[gloomybabygirl]

{in my head pt.2} Poe Dameron x smuggler!reader (soulmate au)

series masterlist 

last part  *  next part

a/n: hi everyone! I can’t thank you enough for all the love on the first part of the series!! I was actually super nervous to post it and had my friends beta read it an unhealthy amount of times, so the feedback I’ve gotten has been wonderful :) p.s. the series tag list is open, send an ask or message if you want to be tagged for the rest!

warnings: alcohol consumption, soulmate trope, poe not clearing his throat, cliffhanger, I haven’t proofread this yet 

timeline: I never established this so here we go! this is set between force awakens and last Jedi! so we’re still on D’Qar ladies, gents, and nb friends. however Miss Rey has not yet traveled to see Uncle Luke 

word count: 4k oops

songs used: mr. loverman - Ricky Montgomery & the chain - Fleetwood Mac (kinda? I just listened there's no singing in this part lol)

summary: you and Poe spend some time bonding, you go on your first mission 

You loved being apart of the Resistance. Waking up on D’Qar every morning was a blessing in your eyes. You had a purpose here. You’d never stayed on one planet for so long. Being on the run was your norm for the majority of your life. It was too dangerous for you to stay on one planet for too long (or stay in one region for that matter). The humid Jungle was the closest thing you’d had to a permanent home since you were a child. 

That is, D’Qar was the closet thing to a physical home you’d had in years. There was one person that had no trouble making you feel at home. You could be stuck in carbonite on a bounty hunters ship and hearing your soulmate’s voice wold make you feel safe. His sweet song felt like coming home to the warm embrace of a lover. 

But you hadn’t heard it in weeks. And it was starting to worry you. There had always been that nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you that he’d found someone else. But now that voice was trying to convince you of something much worse. You don’t know what you’d do if you’d spent all this time waiting for your person only to find out that something awful had happened to him. 

You’d rather find out he already belonged to someone else. 

You did your best to push the dark thoughts away, locking them in a box in the back of your mind. You couldn’t let yourself linger on the idea of him being dead or it would drive you insane. 

There were three people that did a magnificent job of keeping your mind off of all the negative thoughts. On days when it felt like the weight of the war was resting solely on your shoulders, your friends were the ones who could help you bear it. They were always there for a joke or a long talk, if that's what you needed. Of course you were there for them as well. It was the first time you’d allowed yourself to have people in your life that could rely on you. 

Days like today were your favorite. The weather was finally starting to cool down on the swampy planet, making the outside air somewhat tolerable. Everyone you loved was on base, safe and accounted for after a successful mission. Every time one of them left the base you felt as though you were holding your breath until they came back. But now, in Poe's small quarters with Rey and Finn, you felt the air return to your grateful lungs. Poe had devised a plan to hit up Maz’s on the way back from the mission and snagged a few bottles of jet juice, which you and the rest of the gang were all happily draining  in his quarters. The alcohol was just beginning to burn in your stomach and your head was the slightest bit fuzzy. You took your time soaking in the scene of your found family spread out on the cold permacrete of Poe’s room. 

Finn’s boisterous laugh rang out as his best friend finished telling every one about his adventure and a half to get the jet juice. Finn was especially fond of the tangy, red alcohol and was on drink number four down the hatch.

“Only you, Dameron,” Rey laughed to herself, gently taking the half full bottle out of Finn’s hands. His face of protest caused another round of laughter to erupt around the small room. He looked like a child that was denied a sweet by their parent. 

Finn fell back against the permacrete, his head making an awful hollow sound as it hit the ground. He didn't seem to feel it and decided the floor was his new best friend for the night. Rey got up from her position against the wall and began to pick up the empty bottles scattered around the room. 

“Looks like the jet juice served it’s purpose,” you commented, nudging Poe in the side with your elbow. Finn was now curling into the fetal position, trying to use a rug as a blanket. 

You had your legs resting over Poe’s strong thighs. He patted the side of your leg where his hand had been resting, carefully moving your legs off of him. “I better help him back to his room. Someone has to make sure he doesn’t end up running naked through the tarmac trying to fly an X-Wing,” Poe said. 

“I’d should head back to my quarters too,” you stood up to put your boots on, but Poe stopped you. 

“Actually, do you think you could wait here till I get back? I have something I want to give you,” Poe winked at you, helping Rey tug their friend to his feet.

You couldn't help the way your heart sped up at his words. And you definitely didn't miss the eyebrow raise Rey shot you from the door. 

“Yeah, I’ll just hang with BB-8 till you get back.” 

A low voice bellowed out from the door, “OOOOH HE GOT YOU A PRESENT! How romantic,” Finn was apparently trying to wake up the entire base with the way his voice was booming off the walls. You were sure he hadn't meant for that to come out so loud. Or to come out at all. 

Everyone went silent. You and Poe pointedly looked away from each other. His cheeks flamed red. You pretended to be preoccupied with the frayed laces on your Resistance issued boots. 

Rey looked between the two of you and then broke the awkward silence with: “Aaanyway, let’s get you to bed Peanut!” She sounded too cheerful, trying to reduce the awkward energy that hung in the room. Being force sensitive you could only imagine how she was perceiving the situation. She and Poe hauled their inebriated friend out into the hall, desperately trying to shush him as he was now singing. You hoped his poor soulmate wasn't trying to sleep. 

_ 

Finn clapped Poe on the back hard when they finally got into the drunk man’s room. Rey had helped Poe get Finn to his quarters but had dipped when Finn requested to be helped into his pajamas. They were close, but not ‘undressing one another’ close. Poe was itching to get back to his room and see you again, but he helped his buddy none the less. 

Finn was finally laying in bed when Poe turned to leave. 

“Are you okay?” 

Poe hesitated, then turned on his heel. “Yeah?” he furrowed his brow at the unexpected question, “Why?” 

“You haven’t been singing.” Finn was suddenly serious. 

Poe’s face softened when he realized what Finn was so concerned about. 

And he was right, Poe hadn’t been singing. It wasn't hard to miss, everyone on base noticed. The man who used to use every spare moment to sing to his soulmate had gone quiet. People actually missed hearing his voice all the time. Echoing through the halls of the base or out on the tarmac mixing with the whine of X-Wings taking off and landing. Finn wasn’t the only person worried about Black Leader. Leia had even mentioned something to her surrogate son a few days back. She enjoyed his singing more than anyone. She said it was a sparkle of hope during a dark time.

But the truth was, Poe didn't feel like singing. Guilt was the main thing keeping him from inflicting his voice on people whenever he could. How could he sing to his soulmate when he was fighting off feelings for someone else? He was doing everything in his power to stop you from being at the forefront of his mind all the time, but it was hard when your smile was his favorite thing to occupy his mind with. 

“I miss my lover, man.” 

He did. He missed his soulmate, whoever they were. He missed randomly hearing their soft voice humming through his mind. He missed the way he felt when he would sing to them. It was the closest thing he had to actually being with them, talking to them. He missed that he used to long for them. Lately that unconditional, blind love was being clouded by someone else. You. 

_ 

“Tell me more stories about your Dad.” You were sitting cross-legged on the floor across from where BB-8 was nestled in his charging station. He had been beeping and booping at you for the last half and hour as you waited for his father to return. 

The droid animatedly jumped into another anecdote about a recent mission he had gone on with his favorite person. He rattled around in his charging station, whirling his head around and beeping rapidly at you. 

“He did what?!” you asked the little orange droid as the blast doors flew open, revealing the man in question. You turned to face Poe, mouth still agape at the droids admission to you.

“Who did what?” Poe asked confused, walking into the room. The droid then decided he was done charging and rolled over to Poe for scritches. Poe kneeled down and gave his favorite little guy some love, looking at you for an answer. He laughed at the way you had your arms crossed and were giving him the same look Leia gave him when she found out he’d gotten into a dog fight.

BB-8 beeped adamantly at him. 

“Maker, Beebs, you told her about that?” He glanced nervously at you, only to find you were now trying to suppress a laugh. He was soothed by that damned smile that was burned into his mind. 

“Unfortunately for you, I can understand BB’s binary perfectly. Now I know why you have to work on your ship so often,” you teased. “You’re not exactly tender with her.” You were trying to keep up your facade of being angry with him for being reckless. You were failing, your smirk giving you away. 

Why did the fact that you understood BB-8 give him heart palpitations? His droid was absolutely going to get him into trouble with you one day. Apparently he can’t be expected to keep secrets. 

Poe ignored your jab and  walked over to sit behind you. 

“Close your eyes,” he demanded softly. 

“No, I don’t trust you. What kind of weird creature are you about to put on me?” you asked, twisting your torso to see him. 

He cocked his head at you, “Would you just have a little faith in me? I have something special for you.” He laughed. You narrowed your eyes at him but closed you eyes and turned around anyway, your smile growing bigger every second.

“Besides, if I was going to put a creature on you, I’d do it on front of more people,” he taunted. 

You laughed humorlessly at him, “Always the attention whore.” You heard him playfully shush you. 

Poe took a deep breath, silently grateful that you couldn't see the way his hands were trembling. He reached up and removed the silver chain from around his neck for the first time in years. He then carefully slipped it over your head and watched from over your shoulder as his mothers ring came to rest at your sternum. 

Deep breath. “Open.” 

You immediately turned toward him, a look of shock on your face.

“Poe what is this?” you asked, alarmed by the ring resting delicately on your collar bone. 

Poe's warm eyes held so much softness in them, you thought you would bust into tears right then. You turned to face him fully, confused as to why he just put this piece of jewelry around your neck. 

“A good luck charm,” he whispered, admiring the way it looked on you. 

“Is this the chain you wear every day?”

He nodded, still giving you that look that made you feel like the only person in the universe. 

“Then what's this ring?” The bottom of the silver chain was always dipped below his collar, if the ring had always been there, you’d never seen it. 

“It was my mother’s wedding ring. I wear it every day, take it on every mission, even sleep with it on. One day I’ll give it to my soulmate when I ask them to marry me, but for now it serves as a good luck charm for me,” He explained with a sad edge to his voice. 

You had become close with Poe Dameron in the last few months. While a large portion of that time was spent with Finn and Rey, you also had spent a few late nights just the two of you. He had a knack for making you laugh and you would often stay in his quarters long after the others had retired. Deeper conversations were far and few between, the two of you preferring to spend your time together in a fit of hysterics. It was strange to see this man so serious. There was no twinkle of mischief in his eyes tonight. 

You suddenly felt suffocated by him. His face was a mere few inches away from yours and you could feel his cool breath fanning across your face. His large hands rested on your knees, giving you a light squeeze and snapping you out of your haze.

“Poe are you sure you want to give this to me? I can't imagine how important it must be to you.” You reached up and stroked the smooth metal. 

“It’s the most important thing in the word to me. But I want you to have it for your first mission. Since I’m not going with you to help you when you accidentally shoot yourself in the foot, I want you to have a piece of me there with you. And what better to give you than my good luck charm?”

You felt your tears spill over, streaking hot and wet down your face at the sincerity in his voice. You couldn't believe he wanted you to have this piece of him with you. He was becoming one of the most important people in your life, and him sharing something so special with you meant the world. 

You were going down a slippery slope. If you weren't careful, you could fall in love with this man so easily.

“Poe, thank you. I don't know what to say,” you reached forward, pulling him into a tight hug. You nuzzled into his neck, letting the scent of leather and engine oil envelop you. He reached one arm securely around your waist and brought the other up to gently cup the back of your head. He took a deep breath in without meaning to, overwhelming his senses with you. He didn't want to pull away and had to hide his disappointment when you did. You kept your hands on his shoulders, squeezing slightly. 

“I promise I’ll bring it back safely so you can give it to your soulmate one day.”

_

The next few days were a whirl wind of meetings, briefings, more meetings, caf breaks, and did you mention meetings? You spent more time in the command room with your team than you did anywhere else. You forgot life existed outside the confines of the dirt walls.

But you were ecstatic that Leia trusted you with such an important mission so soon after joining the Resistance. Plus you couldn’t be more grateful for the people that were joining you for this mission. 

Finn was excellent for morale and a very smart man when he needed to be, unless of course he had jet juice in his system. Miss. Force-User Rey was always a good person to have on a mission. You brought a sense of craftiness to the crew, thanks to your smuggler skills. And Chewbacca was the only one (besides Poe) that Leia trusted to pilot the Falcon. Plus, he had a soft spot for smugglers, making you a new favorite of his. 

The one person you wished you could add to this team was Poe. His pilot skills would have been a great help to Chewie, he was talented with a blaster, and he was easy on the eyes. But he had a more important solo mission with BB-8 that Leia needed him on. He didn't make himself completely scarce though. He often came in and out of the Command Center, having his own mission to plan with Admiral Akbar. He made a point of bringing you caf every time too, he knew exactly how you liked it. 

You were terrified for your first mission as it was, but not having Poe there made everything ten times more dangerous in your eyes. 

The ring he had let you borrow was becoming a source of comfort. Whenever you got anxious about the mission you found yourself fiddling with it. The smooth metal was slightly worn in one spot on the band and you ran your fingers over it repeatedly to calm yourself. Something you caught yourself doing unconsciously on a number of occasions. 

The plan was simple. The Resistance had gotten word of an ex First Order official on the planet Ryloth, less than a parsec away from Tatooine. You and the rest of the crew were to go there and see what information the old Commander could offer you. Simple. But that didn’t stop you from needing to cover all your bases. Every single thing that could have possibly gone wrong had an escape plan to coincide. You were as prepared as you could be.

Your favorite part of the plan was your mode of transportation. As an ex-smuggler, you’d admired the Millennium Falcon and it's pilot for years. You’d heard every story surrounding Han Solo and his old piece of junk. Seeing it in person, let alone flying on it was something you’d never thought would be possible. But here you were, boarding the infamous ship. 

Finn and Rey brushed passed you, Rey laughing at the look of awe on your face as you were frozen in the doorway, the ramp hitting you on the ass as it closed.

You took your time walking around the hull of the Falcon. Taking a moment just to think about the adventures she’d been on, the places she’d seen. You laughed fondly to yourself as you remembered your favorite story. You reached out and placed a hand tentatively on the wall of the old ship. “So this is the ship that made the Kessel Run in fourteen parsecs?” you called out to your friends.

“Twelve,” Finn and Rey chorused from the cockpit, mixed with the indignant cry of your favorite Wookie. 

“Okay, twelve! Sorry, sorry,” you laughed and joined your friends in the cockpit. 

_ 

Poe was exhilarated every time he was in the air. There was nothing in the world that gave him the same feeling. This man was more comfortable in a cockpit than he was on his own two feet. If it were up to him, he’d never come down. 

But there was someone pulling him back to solid ground, like a magnet. Someone he couldn’t stop thinking about no matter how badly he wanted to exile them from his mind. He couldn't ignore your gravitational pull. He hadn't seen you in several days, you having returned from your mission two days prior. His mission was a success and he couldn't wait to tell you all about it. Leaving out the dangerous details that BB-8 was sure to fill you in on later. 

He was nervous to hear about how your mission went. It was a simple enough task, but he couldn't help but worry about you. He hoped his good luck charm was as comforting to you as it had been to him these last few years. He felt naked without it, this having been the first mission he hadn't taken it on. He found himself reaching up to stroke his finger across the band of the ring he had worn in from playing with it when he got nervous, but then remembering he'd given it to you. The idea that you were wearing a piece of him around the base made his heart leap in his chest. 

He was practically giddy when he leaped down from his X-Wing, already rushing to find you. 

Cool it Dameron, you have a soulmate waiting for you. 

Plus, he had to see the General before anything. Was he so clouded by his need to see you that he forgot he was fighting a war? 

A twinge of guilt hit him hard in the stomach, forcing him to take a deep breath and remind himself of the person looking for him somewhere in the universe. He let his feet take him down the familiar dirt path to the Command Center. The soft, damp earth caused his flight boots to sink slightly with each step.

He flooded his mind with images of what his future could be like with the person the galaxy had chosen for him. A small home on Yavin IV. Children he could teach how to fly the same way his mother taught him. A safe, quiet life with no threat of the First Order. No threats at all. He stored these images in the back of his mind for when he needed a glimmer of hope during the war. But lately he was using these daydreams as distractions from you. 

He stepped into he large room where Leia was addressing General Akbar and a few other pilots that had also just returned from a mission. 

When she caught sight of Poe her forehead created in confusion and she abruptly dismissed the debrief she was in the middle of with a wave of her hand. As they shuffled out of the room, several of them shot Poe sympathetic looks. 

What the hell was going on? 

“Commander Dameron, what are you doing here?” The General asked, walking over to him.

He hesitated, unsure as to why she was asking a question with an obvious answer, “I just landed from my mission, General. I’m here to debrief.” 

Leia dropped the General persona and gently caressed the pilots face, running her thumb over the stubble she resented.

She had always been like a second mother to Poe, and he like a second son to her. Their relationship was something special and unique. Something she thanked the Force every day for. However, her unexpected shift from serious Resistance leader to caring mother made Poe nervous. 

“I thought Finn or Rey would have been waiting on the tarmac to tell you.” 

Now he was starting to panic. What was he missing? What happened? 

“Come with me,” Leia softly implored, grabbing his calloused hand and yanking him out of the room. She tried to flood him with calm though the force connection she made with him, but his anxiety was too overbearing.

She continued explaining as she pulled him through the base, “The mission went south. There was no ex Order Commander on Ryloth. It was a set up. When they landed, there was a fleet of ‘Troopers waiting for them, ready to capture them and bring them back to the Finalizer for my son to interrogate.” She tried to keep her voice even for Poe's sake.

Poe was really panicking now, starting to pick up his speed. He squeezed Leia’s hand, begging her to continue. 

“They got out relatively unscathed. Chewie stayed on the Falcon so they were able to get away quickly. But Poe,” she stopped in her tracks, jerking Poe back to a halt. She looked him in the eyes, worried for what his reaction to her news would be. 

“Poe, the new recruit was badly hurt. They were shot in the side with a blaster and lost a lot of blood. They’ve been in the medbey unconscious for two days, but they’ll be okay,” she finished. 

Poe wordlessly turned and broke out into a run towards the medbay. Leia watched him go, knowing he needed to see you more than anything in that moment. She had felt a connection between you and Poe. She knew he wanted to wait for his soulmate, but she also knew that finding them was not likely. Part of her wished he would give in and let himself fall in love with you. Soulmate or not, she wanted him to be happy. 

[thisdreamplace]

Hi! So I am really conflicted about manifesting sometimes. Before I learned about the law, I would never tolerate someone cheating on me or treating me poorly. But after learning about the law, I have to brush it off and say they’re only treating me poorly because of my own thoughts…It just feels so conflicting because my friends all dislike my SP and don’t want me to get back with a guy who treated me like that. I’m the only one who knows about the law so to them I seem dumb for justifying and forgiving his shitty behavior. It’s just hard to believe in the law sometimes because it feels like I’m just allowing someone to treat me badly. And I know I shouldn’t be reaffirming that they treat me poorly but sometimes I feel like I’m being delusional by affirming that everything is perfect. Because a year ago when I didn’t know about the law I would’ve just dropped someone like that right away and never looked back. I want to believe in the law, but at the same time if it’s not real I’m being an idiot for justifying shitty behavior and blaming someone else’s actions on my own thoughts. Sorry I’m kind of just venting but I’m also wondering if you have any advice for someone who sometimes feels conflicted!!

It only feels that way because on a level, you're misinterpreting the teachings. You still feel like a victim to life, otherwise it wouldn't feel like you're "allowing" poor treatment. You would feel more powerful and trusting. You can't take responsibility for your life and feel bad about it... because that still shows the victim mentality that you are operating from. I have been there plenty of times and it's important to truly step into responsibility, from a place of power.

This isn't a blame game. It's not their fault or your fault. But it is about taking actual responsibility for yourself and standing confident in knowing you have the power to change it. It's about seeing both them and yourself through the eyes of unconditional love, because that's who you really are. God of your reality, unconditional love at your core. And you no longer feel like a victim to the actions of others, because you know how that person isn't actually hurting you. You've just created the illusion of such. Everyone is love at their core and it's up to us to allow that lovely version of them to shine through, but we must begin with ourselves.

I think Dylan James explains this kind of issue soooooo well. In one video he explains how, this isn't a ticket to endure undesirable behavior. Everyone is you pushed out isn't an excuse to lay down and take abuse, disrespect, or anything else undesirable. What it really is, is a ticket to take back your power, take back responsibility, and to get what you want because you deserve exactly what you want. Period. Dylan says how you don't need to pacify this behavior. You don't need to argue with your friends to prove how your sp is worthy. Once again, this is coming from a victim mentality. Because if you were confident within yourself and in your sp (which would just mean even more confidence in yourself, as eiypo) then you wouldn't need their validation or approval. You don't even need your sp's validation. You just need yours.

Dylan says how, when you understand this, you can leave it alone more confidently. He says something along the lines of, "I am not accepting any undesirable behavior. You are going to show up respecting me, loving me, and adoring me because that's how I feel about myself and you have no choice but to show up that way for me. So I am going to go and enjoy my life, and when you're ready to show up the way I know you will, then we can talk. But until then, I'll be over here enjoying my life, not entertaining any undesirable behavior." See, that's the mindset to take on. Not this, "well, you treat me badly but I guess it's my fault so I guess it's okay if you act this way because it's my fault anyway so I guess I have to deal with it." No, you get yourself together and you trust in your desire that it's going to come and match you. And it must, because your desires are a promise. They are meant for you. When in the victim mentality, you're just perpetuating the old story. Plus, your friends are a clear example of how you truly feel about yourself. Everyone is you pushed out works through everyone, and your friends are clearly mirroring the judgment you feel on yourself about this entire situation. They're not looking down on you, you're looking down on you and they're mirroring that.

It's good that you were able to see undesirable behavior before and walk away from it. The problem with that approach is you still allowed the source of the behavior to stay alive, because it was you who that experience came from. We don't deal with the circumstances by making a change in the 3D. Remember, we cannot change the mirror by force. We turn within ourselves and we make the change we wish to experience. The difference is now, you take responsibility and you don't ever have to walk away from something you truly want. Even if you walk away in the 3D, you know within you how it's all working out perfectly and your desires are meant for you. They will make their way to you in the way that you desire them to. They are already perfect for you. Trust in that.

Here's the Dylan James video, by the way. I truly recommend you watch it because it aligns so well with your issue right now.

You don't have to feel sorry for venting! You're allowed to say how you feel, especially with such a complex topic. The law isn't always the easiest to apply and understand and it's normal to think in these kind of conflicted ways at first. As you persist, it's going to click more and you're going to feel more confident in yourself and your power. Hopefully this helps! 💖

[sepublic]

Luz’s Self-Punishment?

           I actually think that like Lilith, Luz has a tendency to overtly punish herself for mistakes, she’s just… WAY more productive and efficient about actually fixing the situation, even at the cost of herself- Maybe even especially because of it!

           I say this because Luz makes the understandable mistake of crashing Owlbert, who was fully willing to indulge in Luz’s antics during Escape of the Palisman by taking her to the Glandus game. And obviously Owlbert is also justifiably hurt and maybe reluctant to reconnect with Luz… But it’s also worth observing that Luz is clearly beating herself up mentally over her mistake, she doesn’t hesitate to throw herself into the Bat Queen’s trials and even risk her life to rescue Owlbert!

           And, obviously- Luz is a very impulsive kind of person in general, incredibly brave, and would do anything for her friends. But I am concerned about Luz possibly beginning to see herself as like, a burden, or even someone who keeps hurting people even when she tries to help them… Especially when they tell her not to. Take for example, Luz turning Willow’s memory photo back up because she still wants her and Amity to reconnect… and it leads to Willow’s mind almost being destroyed. Luz’s efforts DO pay off in the end; However, Wing it like Witches has Luz recklessly challenge Boscha to a Grudgby game, over Willow’s honor.

           That’s fine as it is… But the problem is that Luz says that Willow is challenging Boscha. And I think this is a scenario where Luz legit thought she was doing what was best for Willow, that this was of course what Willow wanted… And while she was justifiably mad, I think Luz may have projected some of her own anger onto Willow by assuming she felt the same way, while also seeing an opportunity to play out her Azura fantasies through a Grudgby match; Hence why moments before Boscha drops trash on Willow, Luz looks VERY intrigued by Amity pointing out that Boscha only listens to Grudgby… Amity wasn’t at all suggesting Luz challenge her to a game, but Luz is remembering that Azura movie she brought up earlier, and getting ideas.

           So when Luz does recognize she made a mistake… I think she’s just a tad too eager to both take on ALL of the responsibility and repercussions, but also doesn’t do too much to vouch for herself when Boscha starts attacking. Now, you could argue that this is just Luz being kind of impulsive and thoughtless, not thinking of herself in a genuinely forgetful way, while also not anticipating Boscha to be THAT intense; But I have to wonder if Luz will sometimes shoulder the blame and burden of her mistakes too much. Just as Amity did when she cut herself off from Grudgby after accidentally injuring Boscha and Amelia that one time… And it’s interesting that Luz is inspired to take all of the blame after Amity recounts this story; And it’s Amity who realizes what’s up and thus goes out to get Willow’s help.

           Or, take Witches before Wizards! Luz enrolls in Adegast’s Quest, wanting to play out her fantasies, and does so on her own, on her own terms… Ideally only Luz should be in danger, if any comes around; And yet Eda and King still get involved to rescue Luz, and Luz finds out that her getting into this quest was what endangered them in the first place, because she was meant to be a hostage! Then we have Agony of a Witch; Eda tells Luz to just mind her own business and be happy, and not concern herself. But not only is Luz legit scared for Eda… She also expresses a desire to ‘pay her back’, as if Luz thinks the happiness she provides isn’t enough. As if Luz feels she’s inadequate, perhaps a burden…

           Which, matches with Luz being the child of Camila, who’s single and occupied with the VERY time-intensive job of being a nurse, and is already stressful as-is. I think Luz quietly taught herself to not try to be a burdern on Camila… Or at least thought that was what she became, when her mother agreed to send her to Reality Camp. This is her mom, who objectively loves her and is supposed to, and likely was the only one supporting and indulging in Luz’s interests for her entire life. So when Luz DOES meet Eda and King, Willow and Gus, or Amity… While she’s still very much herself in a lot of ways, an utter weirdo and a cryptid;

           I AM concerned that Luz is going to be too conscious of the impact she has on others, a bit too much. She went ahead with trying to help Eda’s curse despite Eda telling her not to… And it led to a disastrous heist at Belos’ castle that led to Eda being captured and losing all of her magic, permanently. Luz let Willow and Gus help her in the heist, and they got in trouble as well… And I’m afraid that maybe Luz is beginning to think that any time she tries to help others, she just makes things worse. And/or, Luz feels like she should do things on her own so her loved ones don’t get involved… But even when she tries to in Witches before Wizards, her actions directly lead to Eda and King being captured.

           Am I saying Luz is a bad or thoughtless person? Absolutely not- She can be a bonehead sometimes, but all of her mistakes are completely understandable. Luz needs to remember that a lot of her friends chose to get involved for Luz’s sake, they mutually care for her and vice-versa, she is by no means a burden and her own presence lights up their world. Eda reassures Luz that she chose to sacrifice herself for the girl, and hopefully the advice will stick there… But even so, Luz is a fourteen-year-old who was ostracized for a LONG time.

          She’s no doubt been conditioned to think of herself as a screw-up who hurts people… Hurts her mother by lying to her, Luz should’ve been honest when she had the chance; Hurting Amity by accidentally reading her diary when she just wanted to be friends… Making a statement that Viney and the others justifiably take out-of-context, but Luz interprets this not just as Viney and the others being valid in their initial fears; She thinks it means she HAS done wrong and hurt people, and so she accepts Viney’s rejection without a second thought and really lets it get to her.

           I’ve seen others speculate that Luz has Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, and I really think this could be the case? Luz normally is herself, but lately, when things suggest otherwise… Luz starts to doubt her world-views, at least in application to herself- For others she’ll always vouch for them! But it takes a lot to love oneself… Take for example, Luz clearly berating herself for being too forward with Amity when she tries to initially approach her in Lost in Language, perhaps acting on some confirmation bias; That if Luz fails, then clearly this means she shouldn’t have tried in the first place, and of course nobody is interested in her.

           Luz knows to unapologetically be herself and encourage others to, and then fully support them… But does she expect a lot of support herself? Is Luz resigned to the idea of being rejected either way, so she just goes ahead with who she is… And just waits to see what people DO respond to her, without getting her hopes up? Luz gives it a try, see what happens- And if they don’t respond, alas. If they DO respond… New friend, and Luz can get a bit carried away. Like her plan for Willow to sneak into Hexside and get a better grade… Luz was also legitimately altruistic, but I certainly hope that Luz doesn’t blame herself for getting Willow into trouble, especially since Willow ended up in the Plant Track because of her. Like Eda, Luz has accepted being herself unapologetically and not needing the approval of others- But Eda was also clearly lonely for a while too, having to wait for fellow weirdoes to resonate with her and reciprocate. For Luz, I imagine it’s a very different scenario with just passively waiting for someone to respond to your open invitations about who you are…

           …VS actively WANTING someone, wanting them to accept you, etc., hence Luz’s apprehension about confessing to Camila. And maybe this could lead to some dynamic between her and Amity, where Luz doesn’t know how to handle actively desiring a connection with a specific person that may or may not fully reciprocate her… Luz loves intensely and affectionately and she focuses on making others happy so they don’t suffer like her; Is there the fear, the resignation that they won’t return the same? And that’s okay because they’re already doing so much for Luz just by tolerating a screw-up like her and her mistakes…? Coupled with how stressed Amity is and the abuse she has, and Luz might be afraid that Amity won’t ever feel the same way- So Luz should just be content with what she has, and then not move forward. Don’t get her hopes up.

           Believe me, I don’t find this at all contradictory with my past takes of Luz as being someone who constantly asks why can’t she have it all, both for herself and others… I think she’s rightfully defiant and demanding in that self-respecting way, thanks to Eda especially. But when it comes to emotional love and whatnot, that kind of intimate connection, unconditional kindness and favors… I’m not sure if Luz ever expects that from others, nor does she ask it of them? It’s of course because she’s so kind and selfless towards people, her own demands and challenges towards the system are also into consideration of others just like her.

           But maybe it’s because Luz is partially demanding because she sees it as helping others in a roundabout way… Or she’s only ever like this with strangers, with people she expects to already not think much of her, to not accept her, so Luz doesn’t have too much qualms with trying to be all perfect and subdued for them… But for people who DO accept Luz, it suddenly feels like a lot of pressure and responsibility, because she’s not used to this. She doesn’t want to screw it up, making friends who like her, because this is so rare, and it requires a lot more mutual reciprocation from others, VS an attempt to change the system or fight against the law, cause a prison break, etc.

           Luz seems like the person who can handle learning a lost form of magic, fighting monstrous demons, all that jazz incredibly well; But when it comes to navigating actual emotional relationships, Luz has a lot more difficult navigating. Sometimes she copes with her fear by just going for it, sometimes she forgets about it entirely in her eager excitement, getting her hopes up… But in general, I don’t want Luz to think that she actively causes trouble for people, and that she hasn’t done enough to deserve the people who actively choose to be around her; Much less Luz’s potential apprehension about not being enough for someone she ‘forces’ interaction with because she wants to be with them, like Amity. I think Luz’s growing mistakes and incidents could contribute towards a growing sense of being a screw-up in her own way… And when you’re an insecure teen, you tend to forget about and disregard your good actions in hindsight, even as you’re performing them.

           While Luz’s efforts do sometimes pay off, it’s usually after something goes wrong and everyone grapples with the situation. Sometimes Luz has to wonder if it could’ve been done in a much better way, and if her friends had to do too much heavy-lifting to make things right, to pick up after Luz’s mess- Like maybe her friends could’ve just fixed this on their own, it was only Luz getting into a mess that made them get involved sooner rather than later. The thing about Luz’s mistakes is that a lot of them are understandable, or while bad, nevertheless escalate past a point she could’ve feasibly expected, so maybe she’s being too hard on herself for the consequences.

           I think Lilith is someone who also has an issue with this, as does King- And both have learned to confront that they cause messes that they didn’t intend, but still contributed towards. Of course, King is way more adjusted than Lily… And I can see Lilith and Luz potentially bonding over that feeling of being ‘cursed’, like any attempt to make things better for others just causes problems… And they’re already so much of a liability and a burden as-is. Even when they do things alone and for themselves, issues for their loved ones can develop as a direct result… So maybe they should just cut ties? To protect the ones they care for… Besides, their loved ones probably don’t need them THAT much anyway, their friends are too cool for losers like them.

           I kind of feel like Luz and Lilith could have a potential issue of really undervaluing themselves and their achievements… That when they do bring them up, they don’t really mean it and it’s just a shallow attempt at making themselves feel good- But deep inside they know it means nothing. Lilith knows that being Head Witch of the Emperor’s Coven means nothing, not without Eda’s approval, and especially because she got it as a hand-me-down from Eda… But she still boasts of it anyway to invite other witches, and to lie to herself. If Eda contrasts with Lilith and can teach her sister to engage in some self-love… Then consider that Eda does the same to Luz; And what this could say about Luz and Lilith as two people on the receiving end of Eda’s support, who have a lot to learn and benefit from Eda and already have.

           Maybe Luz expects herself to do a lot, because she recognizes that she IS a lot… So she tries to take advantage of this, and tries to compensate for past failures, by doing something good with it. This isn’t to say that Luz never acts in her self-interest, ever, because she’s still a fourteen-year-old kid with a loving and supportive family, who’s allowed to have fun and has still had genuinely positive lessons and growth in the Boiling Isles… Any issues she suffers in the Boiling Isles, if Luz gets them, would’ve been less worse than that of the Reality Camp, minus the physical harm bit of course. But that doesn’t seem to register to Luz that much because that’s not what really matters to her in the end.

           Regardless, I’m afraid that Luz is going to pick up on the idea that each time she innocently tries to go forward and do something for herself and/or others, without their permission… It just makes things worse, forcing others to not only fix the problem, but also make things better so Luz doesn’t mess up again. In other words, Luz probably thinks her friends are doing all of the actual work in making things better, which could play into how Luz thinks the world of her loved ones and is incredibly supportive of them. Perhaps she thinks they’re way cooler than her, too cool for Luz… It’s not too much of a prevalent issue NOW, I think, but it could be in the future. Luz could begin to wean herself off from doing what she enjoys, just for herself, because she thinks she’s a screw-up…

          And then her friends have to reassure her otherwise about everything, that even if Luz seems to be a disaster-magnet, it’s part of the charm and not her fault, she shouldn’t hold herself back! If anything, Luz should keep weaponizing her chaotic energy, making the most of what she has as always! Considering the school system that Luz grew up in, and how she’s ND-coded… I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of schools really punished her and forced Luz to dwell a lot on her mistakes, without much room for productively fixing things; It’s a common neurodivergent experience to be unproductively yelled at for messing up, and then to internalize that. And it could contribute to Luz focusing on what she’s done wrong over what she’s done right. If Amity is learning to love herself, then… I sincerely hope Luz isn’t contrasting, by learning to doubt herself. Especially since the Boiling Isles has been almost objectively superior to the Reality Camp; Because there, she would’ve REALLY internalized even worse lessons, and not gained any of the good ones.

           Now, maybe I’m looking too deep into it; But hey, what if I’m right? At the very least this provides food for thought… You may as well take a chance, because what do you have to lose if you’re wrong- Nothing! But if you don’t try, you could lose the opportunity to really think and enjoy and anticipate something… And be right, or wrong- Either way you had fun!

[dahlia-coccinea]

I reread Patsy Stoneman’s essay, “Catherine Earnshaw's Journey to Her Home among the Dead: Fresh Thoughts on Wuthering Heights and 'Epipsychidion,” and my feelings towards it pretty similar to how I feel about J. Hillis Miller’s essays. I enjoyed reading it but I don’t agree with 85% of it. I haven’t reread any of Miller’s takes (since there are a plethora of metaphysical interpretations it would be so repetitive) and that probably allows for me to still appreciate his essays as much as I do...I think rereading Stoneman’s essay was a bad idea because reading it a second time made it much less enjoyable and I read it much more critically.

There are a lot of similarities between the metaphysical and Romantic love narratives, and they also share a lot of the same failings. They tend to be very selective about what scenes are analyzed and they aren’t put into a larger context, and they tend to be the most poetic scenes. Typically these arguments cannot place the meaning of the 2nd generation into the context of the novel either. I’ve already said quite a bit about the metaphysical arguments, so I’m going to try and discuss just the points in this specific essay. Sorry parts may be a little repetitive because critics often bring up the same quotes and ideas again and again. And this will be very long.

First, Stoneman identifies that there are two popular theories about Catherine and Heathcliff’s relationship: “One is the myth of star-crossed lovers, who are cheated of marriage by social forces,” and then the metaphysical argument which, “presents Catherine and Heathcliff’s love as of a kind which is in itself incapable of social consummation.” She then volunteers a third option that is based on concepts of free love and/or “twin love” that can found in Romantic literature.

It is interesting, but I’m pretty sure Catherine also thinks she betrayed her own heart? She does tell Nelly she knows in her heart and soul she shouldn’t marry Edgar, and on her deathbed, she says “If I’ve done wrong, I’m dying for it.” I know some take it to mean she thinks that she didn’t do what was wrong to her, but she does add “You left me too” so I think she does agree with Heathcliff that she, in a way, left him. 

There is ample room in the novel to compare Heathcliff and Edgar as there are few similarities between them. The society in which they live is violent and hierarchical and that never seems to be questioned by any character - I think that is an important backdrop and allows for commentary on class, race, and gender. I don’t think this particularly has to do with how we view exclusive relationships. And based on the reasons Catherine gives for why she would marry one and not the other, I think Catherine understands she is limited by this society. Her reasons for marrying Edgar are all very practical.

Instead of any fulfillment, from the start, Nelly says Catherine struggled and had an “objection to her two friends meeting at all.” Catherine is aware they dislike each other from the start and this makes things more difficult for her as Hindley wants her to marry Edgar, Heathcliff is more and more remote, and the two of them are stuck suffering Hindley’s cruelty. Nelly even says during this time, “I’ve had many a laugh at her perplexities and untold troubles, which she vainly strove to hide from my mockery.” If what Stoneman says is true she would have to be beyond naive, if not utterly foolish, to think that a relationship with both Edgar and Heathcliff would be desirable for spiritual fulfillment after Heathcliff’s treatment at the Grange, or his throwing applesauce on Edgar (which this scene brings her to tears and she blames Edgar for Heathcliff’s resulting punishment). 

Stoneman does attempt to reconcile the Catherine confiding in Nelly that she knows in her heart and soul she is wrong to accept Linton’s proposal - she says this statement is negated by her insistence of never being parted from Heathcliff and that therefore means her love for him must simply be different and Romantic, rather than romantic/marriage-oriented. I’ve written a lot about this already but so I’ll just say that is pretty selective of the whole conversation with Nelly. 

Stoneman says, that from this scene and how we see Catherine greet Heathcliff this shows, “No sense of tragic irony seems to enter into her consciousness, nor any foreboding of difficulties.”? Seems to be a bit of an overstatement when you consider that Edgar’s proposal brings Catherine to tears because she feels she isn’t meant to be with him. She doesn’t excitedly tell Nelly that she loves them both, and she doesn’t seem very optimistic when she says Edgar, “must shake off his antipathy, and tolerate him, at least.” While idealistic in thinking Edgar would help Heathcliff she is still pragmatic in understanding how few options she has. She fears Heathcliff listening to this conversation and will be hurt by this, or him finding out how much she loves him. Is her "delirious” joy upon Heathcliff’s return really a sign of her lack of conformity and utter loss at understanding their jealously? Or is it more likely because she thought he might be dead for those three years? She also tirelessly spends the next 3 months balancing Heathcliff’s dislike of Edgar (which I believe also spurs her to continue concealing her feelings towards him), Edgar’s jealously, and a new fun problem: Isabella’s infatuation with Heathcliff. 

I won’t go into too much detail in this because it’s so similar to the metaphysical argument, but Stoneman notes that in Shelley’s ‘Epipsychidion’ there isn’t just the concept of free love but of “twin love” between 2 of the 3 person triangle, so it assumes that Catherine/Heathcliff could more platonic or at least asexual. 

In this interpretation Catherine “revises the traditional masculinity” of the “Romantic lover:” 

“Shelly’s experiment depended on women’s readiness to be generous and co-operative, and Catherine’s similar plan founders on the combative notion of masculinity endorsed by our culture. Attempting to ‘divide’ her love between men who seem to her too different to be rivals, she finds them transformed into the ‘chained friend’ and ‘jealous foe’ of convention.”

I don’t agree with the idea that Catherine sees them as too different to be rivals? She does compare them which casts them as two men vying for the position of her husband. Also, she based her decision to marry one and not the other on socioeconomic advantage, not who she loves more, or how they differ as people and might give her different kinds of love, although she points out her changing/more superficial and limited love for Edgar compared to the love she has for Heathcliff which are like the “eternal rocks beneath.”

Her love for Edgar is full of stipulations - she would “only pity him—hate him, perhaps, if he were ugly, and a clown.” Heathcliff’s degraded state does nothing to change her love, which is why I say her love for them is unequal. I honestly think saying she loves them equally yet differently, or that she is totally unaware of their jealousies is so preposterous based on the text, I don’t understand how so many critics, that have written extensively on the book all parrot it? Yet Stoneman continues to assert Catherine is “innocent” and “baffled” by their jealously. With almost everything she says about Catherine I find myself thinking, “well yes, but no?” For example, with this idea: 

“Catherine’s apparent self-destruction has to be seen, not as willful egotism, but as a despairing response to her two lovers’ failure to love her enough to share her attention”

I do think this is mostly true. It is not willful egotism, and she is upset that they can’t tolerate each other - but Catherine’s illness is a long-running problem that is closely associated with her relationship with Heathcliff and his absence that began after he first runs away. Through the next three years, she says she “endured very, very bitter misery.” I’d say it has nothing to do with her feelings towards Edgar who she has been making herself distant during this whole time while telling Heathcliff (in spirit since he isn’t actually in the room): “If I dare you now, will you venture? If you do, I’ll keep you.”

Again I do somewhat agree with Stoneman’s interpretation of Catherine telling Heathcliff, “you and Edgar have broken my heart,” which Stoneman says, “can only be explained if we accept that while Catherine still relates to both her lovers, Edgar and Heathcliff have broken her heart by defining love as exclusive.” I think they do break her heart by their selfishness over her, and I think she never intends to hurt either of them. She has at different times suffered to protect one or the other. But this still doesn’t change her stronger, unconditional, yet socially unacceptable and thwarted love for Heathcliff. Her issue isn’t the loss of Edgar, they broke her heart by both behaving in a way that cast Heathcliff from her company. Divorce was not really an option for her - the most dysfunctional couple in the novel, Heathcliff and Isabella, never legally separate even. So why wouldn’t she try to keep the peace between them to be near Heathcliff? The Romantic love interpretation is difficult to reconcile with her rejection of Edgar which happens on a few occasions and most apparent when she tells him, “What you touch at present you may have; but my soul will be on that hill top before you lay hands on me again. I don’t want you, Edgar: I’m past wanting you. Return to your books. I’m glad you possess a consolation, for all you had in me is gone.” 

As the essay went on I felt it got weaker. Stoneman says Catherine’s haunting of Heathcliff must be read as an “appeal against his failures of generosity.” Not because she wishes she was never parted from him, as Catherine herself said? Catherine doesn’t seem to die with any animosity towards Heathcliff - she forgives him for leaving her, asks for forgiveness, and tells him, “You never harmed me in your life.” 

**** EDIT *** I just meant that he goal isn’t to punish Heathcliff, since before her death she makes it clear she doesn’t want to parted from him. I do prefer the theory that she she haunts him in part to call him off his revenge and harming those she loves and to bring him back to her. I don’t think her ghost is static or simply a “reward” for Heathcliff despite all the wrong he did. I think she does become “incomparably above and beyond” them all and remains a force as she was in her life. Or she could be not a ghost at all and he encounters with could be proof of Heathcliff’s madness and later becomes a simple old folktale and superstition. (I’ll admit I like to view the ghosts are real and I think there number of references to them by other characters do suggest that we are meant to read them that way). ***

After Catherine’s death, Stoneman says, “There is, after all, something in the haunting which the usual readings of the novel fail to explain. If the ghost of Catherine wails to be let in, and Heathcliff begs her to return, what is it that keeps them apart?” I think we’d have to all agree that what Lockwood saw was actually a ghost, and I have seen this interpreted a million times? Stoneman says it is Heathcliff’s own “implacable obsession with revenge, which effectively shuts her out of his consciousness.” Which I could agree if we are reading it assuming the ghosts are real...but then she says that Heathcliff reaches his heaven only as he abandons his revenge against Edgar and “at last he ‘comprehends in his person’ the preposterous simultaneity of her loves.” This made no sense to me. I don’t see any reason for thinking he begins to accept Catherine’s love for Edgar, which he kind of already had? He tells Nelly that he doesn’t physically hurt him for that reason, he just also believes she loves him more. And I would say he does defeat Edgar and Hindley? Just because he can’t also destroy Hareton and Cathy II doesn’t negate that in his lifetime he outlives his enemies and has control of everything and everyone at Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange (which he never shows signs of regretting his actions). It might not have gone as far as he originally planned, but I would say he does sort of win. And his abandonment of revenge isn’t ever associated with Edgar? Heathcliff does give some insight to what causes him to lose interest in his plot, an aspect of it being the connection to Hareton. In a discussion between him and Nelly he tells her she may think he’s insane “if I try to describe the thousand forms of past associations and ideas he (Hareton) awakens or embodies.” It is because of this intense association with him that he says, “his society is no benefit; rather an aggravation of the constant torment I suffer: and it partly contributes to render me regardless how he and his cousin go on together. I can give them no attention any more.” I believe the last time Heathcliff mentions Edgar is right after his death and he tells Nelly that, “I wish he’d been soldered in lead,” and goes on to describe yet another plot against Edgar by having his and Catherine’s graves opened on the side nearest each other so that they don’t have any barriers between them and then, "by the time Linton gets to us he’ll not know which is which!” So the idea he softens towards Edgar or becomes more willing to share Catherine in any way is...improbable to me. 

The theory also suffers (like so many others), in ignoring the ending when forming the narrative. Stoneman mentions the three graves and says that the people seeing Heathcliff and Catherine’s ghosts are basically country folk who are inclined to sympathize with “Heathcliff's final possession of his 'woman’” and also most readers fall into these same “hegemonic constructions” by not considering that the "the sleepers in that quiet earth” are at peace together. I agree with @princesssarisa that it doesn’t quite fit into the fact that many of the people that see the ghosts didn’t support or even know of Heathcliff and Catherine’s relationship - the young shepherd boy doesn’t seem to know who Catherine even is. To also say that the reader is projecting their desired ending doesn’t feel right because the ending is something that Heathcliff and Catherine have been foreshadowing through the whole book. Catherine says, “I’ll not lie there by myself: they may bury me twelve feet deep, and throw the church down over me, but I won’t rest till you are with me. I never will!” She doesn’t refer to Edgar, who she says can be buried anywhere, it doesn’t matter to her (poor Edgar). She also tells Heathcliff, “I shall not be at peace,” and “I only wish us never to be parted,” as well as other similar quotes implying that she will be waiting for Heathcliff to come to her. I don’t like the view that Catherine is so lacking agency in her relationship with Heathcliff either - I’ve never thought that he “possesses” her. She’s the one who makes the demand that he leave the world behind and join her - the end does seem to be him finally following her, as she says he always does. 

And then, what of Cathy and Hareton? How do we reconcile the narrative with the features of the second generation? It would seem, if we assume Catherine has a differing yet equal love of the two men, and wished for a relationship where they can be peaceful together, and then the only scene we have of them together is in their graves, it feels pessimistic. Our one Shelleyan model is dead and buried with two people incapable of overcoming their jealousies and possessiveness. When considering the ending with Hareton and Cathy, would we have to conclude this a cautionary tale of Catherine’s naivety? Stoneman does make almost this suggestion and says it could also be because Emily had watched Branwell and Charlotte get hurt by love married people, so it could be showing what tragedy befalls if love is selfish and possessive. Though there is nothing to suggest that Hareton and Cathy love isn’t any of those things? 

I must be terribly boring because I think the easiest way of describing Catherine and Heathcliff is that they are, “star-crossed lovers, who are cheated of marriage by social forces.” Obviously, that is simplistic and glosses over their more spiritual aspects and certainly, they are not how the 1939 film interpreted them, which Stoneman rightly says, “recasts the novel in class terms as 'the story of the stable-boy and the lady’” - but I still think its closer than saying they are models of Freudian psychology, siblings, celestial beings, or Shelleyan. There certainly is spirituality and complexities in their love, and throughout the plot, as well as other characters, but it is still very much possible to read too deeply into double meanings and what is left unsaid.

My end take - some lyricism of Epipsychidion is echoed in quotations from Catherine and I would have much preferred to compare and contrast the two works rather than the attempt to shoehorn the rest of the story into a similar narrative. I think if you made a comparison to just the part after Heathcliff returns, a really interesting and strong argument could be made about how Catherine does try to create a similar relationship as described in Shelley’s work. I don’t think the situation was ever her ideal, but she certainly has no desire to be cunning or vampish - that’s not in her nature, and her relationship with Heathcliff doesn’t necessitate them having sex. She does try to put into practice a semi-Romantic love triangle but I don’t think she harbors any delusions of Edgar’s and Heathcliff’s animosity. Rather than a bohemian approach, it is her forcefulness and controlling that keep them both at bay. Tellingly she tells Nelly, “I believe I might kill him (Edgar), and he wouldn’t wish to retaliate.” She feels confident in her sway over him to get what she wants and she wants to be able to continue her relationship with Heathcliff in any way she can. It’s not necessary to revise and add new narratives to situations in the novel that are clearly able to be discerned from the text - such as Heathcliff’s failing desire for revenge or people seeing their ghosts at the end. I don’t think Epipsychidion is a terribly good lens to read Catherine through as her love can also be jealous, selfish, and possessive. There are too many aspects of Catherine’s character that conflict with the ideas Epipsychidion expresses.

[i-like-plan-m]

About your LWJ can hear lies AU- I can’t help but wonder how he would react to Nie Huaisang and Jin Guangyao since they are both known for being expert manipulators, especially since it’s hinted at that Nie Huaisang had a lot to do with the WW and MX thing. So I wondered if Huaisang would find a way around LWJ’s lie detecting or if he even knows about it? Also, I can just imagine the PAIN LWJ would be in if he had to talk to Jin Guangyao

Oops, I forgot to link this on tumblr! My bad! This is chapter 3 of the lies au

The trip to Qinghe was familiar by now. 

Years of flight between the sects meant Lan Zhan could make the trip with his eyes closed. He kept them open, because the sight of the Qinghe mountain range always brought a sense of relief that was as sharp as the cold air.  

The sight at the gates was becoming a familiar one, too. Nie Huiyin waited for him with all the patience she was capable of, her constant restless energy directed into a small but impeccably crafted blade that she was sharpening like it had done something to offend her. 

It was just her way, Lan Zhan had learned. Nie Mingjue’s cousin was as brusque as he was, infinitely more cheerful and possibly the loudest person Lan Zhan had ever met in his life. She was also, however, the most refreshingly honest person in all five of the great sects, save for perhaps Nie Mingjue himself. 

“Ah!” She said brightly as he landed before her, stepping gracefully from his sword and sweeping it back into the sheath on his back. “It’s our little Lan Zhan, back again!” 

He refused to acknowledge the blush heating his ears and instead nodded in greeting. His composed response did not deter her from tossing a friendly arm around his shoulders and hauling him through the open gates, past the grinning guards and into the towering grasp of the Unclean Realm walls. 

“How have you been, shidi?” She asked. The Nie Sect, Lan Zhan had quickly discovered, lived up to their imposing reputation of strength and honor. They were also the friendliest people in the world, once they’d decided you were theirs. 

Once Lan Zhan's was unofficially acknowledged as a member of the sect leader’s family-- or at least someone held in high regard by Nie-zongzhu himself, the floodgates had opened. He couldn’t decide whether their open affection was embarrassing or not, but it did fill him with a warmth he was unfamiliar with, one that felt like unconditional acceptance. As though they wanted him here. As though they liked him.

He had never had friends before. 

Well. He wasn’t entirely positive that he had any now. But regardless, the Nie Sect disciples treated him with regard. They smiled when they saw him. They welcomed him in their training exercise despite the differences in their sects’ fighting styles. 

Some, like Nie Huiyin, treated him as though he was a part of their sect. Another of Nie Mingjue’s little brothers to look out for, to keep tabs on like he was incapable of taking care of himself. 

It would be insulting if it hadn’t felt so much like acceptance. 

“I have been progressing,” Lan Zhan reported dutifully. “My control has improved further since my last visit.” He didn’t react to lies like someone had stabbed him in the ear the way he once had. With age came control, and a higher pain tolerance, apparently. 

Nie Huiyin made a sound of exasperation. “You Lans, I swear. I meant how have you been? Done anything fun lately?” She jostled him to punctuate her questions. He was slightly cheered by the fact that she had to reach higher than usual to rest an arm over his shoulders; he’d finally hit his growth spurt this summer and was nearing his brother’s height. 

“I mastered Inquiry,” he offered. 

She squinted at him suspiciously. “Is that what you do for fun?” 

“I enjoy it, yes.” 

“Hm. Acceptable. Though my rock climbing offer still stands if you want real fun. There’s nothing more exhilarating than free-falling from a thousand feet, shidi!” Lan Zhan gave a doubtful noise in response that made her laugh. “We catch ourselves before the bottom and take the rest of the fall on our sabers. And then!”

And then they raced through the most dangerous mountain pass in Qinghe on their sabers, chasing adrenaline with as many death-defying stunts they could manage until the pass ended in a dead-drop of a hundred feet. Most of them followed the waterfall straight into the large lake at the bottom. Most of the Nie disciples were reckless enough to try it at least once.

“Scorpion Alley,” he said, familiar with the sect’s unofficial rite of passage. 

“You got it,” she agreed cheerfully. “We still haven’t gotten you out there, have we?” 

“You will not,” he assured her, and bit back a smile when her laugh echoed across the training grounds. It was so different here than in his sect. There was little composure in Qinghe, no reason to stifle laughter or keep words hushed. 

Composure, he’d learned, was another word for concealment. Disguising one’s truthful feelings to reflect serenity instead. A mask that hid the turmoil beneath for the sake of propriety.

It was a lie all the same. 

“I hear your sect is hosting guest disciples next year,” Nie Huiyin said, steering him towards the main hall. 

“Yes.” He made a halfhearted attempt to sound neutral. He must have failed, because she snorted a laugh as she shoved open the doors of the main hall where Nie Mingjue sat, sorting through a stack of reports with a cranky expression. A slender, unfamiliar man with a dimpled smile stood beside the desk, holding a massive accounting book and waiting patiently for Nie Mingjue to stop muttering under his breath. 

Nie Mingjue looked up as the doors swung open. He brightened almost immediately, standing to welcome Lan Zhan with such genuine delight that Lan Zhan ducked his head, pleased. 

“Welcome back,” he said, clapping a hand on his shoulder and leading him to one of the nearby tables, gesturing for a servant to bring tea. He sat across from Lan Zhan while Nie Huiyin leaned against a column behind him. “How was the trip?”

“Fine,” Lan Zhan said, and tried not to sound petulant. He was almost sixteen, perfectly capable of making the trip from Gusu to Qinghe without trouble. 

“It’s the da-ge instinct, little Lan,” Nie Huiyin said with a laugh, nudging Nie Mingjue with her knee when he scowled up at her. “He can’t help himself.” 

The unfamiliar man hovered in the background as though unsure what to do without Nie MIngjue’s attention. Lan Zhan blinked at him, still unclear on who this newcomer was or how he’d climbed to Nie Mingjue’s side so quickly. Lan Zhan visited often enough that he would have noticed a new person in Nie Mingjue’s inner circle before today, surely. 

Nie Mingjue noticed his distraction and turned to wave the man over. “Ah. Apologies, you two have not met.” The stranger obediently crossed the room and bowed low to Lan Zhan. “This is Lan Wangji, the Second Jade of Lan. And this is Meng Yao, my new deputy.” 

“It is an honor to finally meet you, Lan-er-gongzi.” 

Lan Zhan nodded politely in response and wondered at the faint whisper of a slipped note that accompanied his words. Not quite a lie, but there was something underlying that sounded… off. 

“Da-ge,” Nie Huisang complained, sweeping into the room with a sulking expression. “I already did my saber training today as promised, and Nie Zonghui is trying to make me do more. This is cruel and unjust and-- oh, hi Lan Wangji.” 

“Nie Huaisang,” Lan Zhan murmured. 

“Lan Wangji,” Nie Huiasang said brightly, throwing himself down beside them. “Tell me, doesn’t your clan have a rule or twelve about keeping promises?” 

“A-Sang,” Nie Mingjue said tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Behind him, Meng Yao hid a smile like he’d witnessed many similar discussions like this one. 

Then again, so had Lan Zhan. The Nie’s bickering was as constant as stars in the sky. It had taken some getting used to, but now Lan Zhan let it pass over him as background noise. It was all born from a place of love, and even the small lies (like Nie Huaisang’s mistruth about the duration of his promised saber practice) were easily ignored. 

Meng Yao, though. He was odd. 

Lan Zhan kept his face carefully neutral whenever Meng Yao’s smiles rang false, which was… often. He smiled like he knew it was expected of him, not because he wanted to. Like he was playing a role, either for the sect leader’s benefit or his own. 

It had been a few years since his lessons with Lan Xichen on the reasons why people lie, but most of it was… still hard to understand. So when Meng Yao responded to direction throughout the rest of Lan Zhan’s visit with a demure, “I would be honored, Sect Leader” and it rang discordant every time, Lan Zhan thought it was perhaps time to ask for help. 

Only a few years ago, Lan Zhan had accidentally exposed an advisor in Qinghe who had been bought off by merchants in the city. Every bit of his advice and own influence had been manipulated to support the merchants. 

Of course, when Lan Zhan was in the room and realized the advisor’s input sounded like a drunkard playing a dizi, he’d signaled to Nie Mingjue, who then rooted out the reason for his lies. Lan Zhan was not capable of doing so himself-- he only knew when people lied, never their reason for it. 

Shortly after Nie Mingjue had personally tossed the advisor out of the Unclean Realm’s gates, Lan Zhan had discovered a shadow wandering around on his heels. 

“How’d you know he was lying?” Nie Huaisang asked curiously. He continued when Lan Zhan stood frozen in place, unsure how to respond. “I saw your cue to da-ge. The hand signal?”

“I…” He had no idea what to do. Brush him off? Explain his mother’s gift? Deny it entirely? 

No. That was dishonest. 

He swallowed hard and admitted, “I can hear lies.” 

“Really?” Nie Huaisang’s eyes brightened. “So you knew the advisor was corrupt?” 

“No. Just that he lied.” 

“Hm. Interesting. So just the lie, not the intention?” The ever-present fan fluttered as Nie Huaisang stared thoughtfully at him. He nodded once in agreement. “You hear it?”

Lan Zhan realized he’d been absently following Nie Huaisang’s meandering pace along one of the walls. They were alone, so he reluctantly shared, “It was a gift from my mother, before she died. I hear conversations like music, and lies are…”

“Horrible, mangled sounds?” Nie Huaisang asked dryly. “My music tutors tell me that’s what I sound like when I play, anyway.” 

His face did not show the flicker of humor he felt. “Yes.”

“Is there anything other than the curse that tells you when they lie? Like, if their voice sounds nervous or their breathing is too fast?” 

Lan Zhan paused. He’d never thought of that, of looking past the sound of the curse to identify the physiological aspects of the liars. Why would he? There was irrefutable proof from the curse. 

But not looking further felt… lazy. Like willful ignorance. That he could not abide. 

“I will observe from now on,” he decided. 

“Me too!” Nie Huaisang caught his skeptical side-eye, because he sighed like he alone bore the weight of the universe and said, “I’m just saying, it seems like a useful skill. That advisor got past me, too, you know, and I spend a lot of time listening to their incredibly boring conversations.” 

“Boring conversations about running the sect.” If the disapproval wasn’t clear on his face, it was evident in his tone. 

“Exactly,” Nie Huaisang agreed. “But I learned my lesson, Lan-er-gongzi, all thanks to you! We should practice together, don’t you think? How about just before lunch every day?” 

“That is the time of your saber training,” Lan Zhan, who was not an idiot, said. 

“Is it?” Nie Huaisang asked, blinking innocently at him. “Ah, well, da-ge can’t complain if I’m busy making our favorite guest feel welcome!” 

“We will spar together before lunch,” Lan Zhan decided, ignoring Nie Huaisang’s horrified expression. “And then study during lunch.” 

“No,” Nie Huaisang wailed. “How can I learn to read people if I’ve been pummeled into the dirt by the Second Jade of Lan?”

“I would not,” Lan Zhan said, offended. “You are not capable of a legitimate spar--” 

“No shit!” 

“--so instead I will help with your training.” 

“Somehow this turned out very badly for me,” Nie Huaisang muttered, but he was at the training grounds mostly on time later that day all the same. 

That was two years ago. 

After two years of shared study, they had something that was not quite a friendship. Lan Zhan had never lost the sense of awkwardness around Nie Huaisang-- he was never quite sure how to interact, wasn’t sure what his role was in this relationship. 

Nie Huaisang mostly just complained to him about everything under the sun. But every time Lan Zhan visited, he showed up to the training grounds with an expression of utmost suffering. He only remembered his saber half the time, and he tripped over his own feet often enough Lan Zhan feared for his life, but he showed up. 

So Lan Zhan knew his concerns would be heard if he took them to Nie Huaisang. Maybe he would have more insight into Meng Yao’s oddities-- Nie Huaisang understood people the way Lan Zhan didn’t. He couldn’t hear lies, but he could see them. 

Most of the time, anyway. He’d learned to read faces where Lan Zhan heard the mistruths. It was a training method with guaranteed reliability, and Nie Huaisang’s success had surprised him. Apparently he was highly capable when he actually applied himself. Too bad he didn’t want to. 

Still. He would listen to Lan Zhan, and he would help. That much was certain.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

February Contest Submission #15: The Old House

words: ca. 6000 setting: 20th Century. Real world (with a twist) lemon: No cw: Some angst. Mentions of parent death. Referenced/implied child abuse.

“It’s time to go.”

She saw through the mist a hand, reaching out for her. Large snowflakes swirled past them like a swarm of puffy hens. The hand could not hold her. It slipped away. She called her parents’ names, or so she thought.

They found her moribund little body in the snow the next morning.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

Anna woke up with a start, chest heaving.

It was dark in the hotel room. Her roommate— partner?— stirred groggily next to her.

“Anna? What’s wrong?” Her raspy voice asked. “Was it another nightmare.”

“No,” she lied. “I’m sorry. Y-you can go back to sleep.”

She could feel Elsa’s eyes on her.

“What do you need?” She asked. Her voice spread warmth across Anna’s chest.

“…I could really use a warm hug.”

Next thing she knew, a pair of arms were gathering her into an embrace. She tucked her head under Elsa’s chin and sighed.

It would be a long day, it seemed.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

Arendelle was a small town on an island north of Norway. It was born as a fishing town in the 1890s and never changed its trajectory. Only a few dozen houses, a fish-oil refinery, the docks, one church, one school, one hotel, and an administrative building uphill. The people of Arendelle were rustic and gloomy, much like the weather they were brought up in: hail twice a week, snow in winter, and rain the rest of the time. In short: Arendelle hadn’t changed one bit since Anna left.

Being at the foot of the mountain, Arendelle’s surroundings were prone to avalanches, and the most recent one had taken place only a week back. It missed them by a few miles, but it opened up a door for archaeologists from the University of Bergen, who came to study what had been uncovered by the snow.

Anna wasn’t an archaeologist; she was a girl on a mission. She left while her grandfather slept, hopping into a cargo ship to travel north. Her passage was worth weeks of work. She hadn’t expected the sight of the town in the distance to hurt her as it did, so she kept her mind busy, and spent her days searching. 

The day things began to go downhill, she was, as always, searching for her parents’ bodies. 

She climbed up the mountains with her wooden stick and stabbed the snow with it, searching for something harder than mud. Bones, hopefully, although she was terrified of finding frozen flesh sticking to their cheekbones. The sky grew dark and cold, and Elsa would kill her if she arrived one minute too late, so she decided to turn back. She followed her own tracks towards the dig (where they let her sit by the ever-burning campfire as long as she wasn’t too noisy). The skeletal tree-branches rattled above. The wind whistled and swooshed sharply, blowing rough snow that clawed at her reddened cheeks. Her hands were numb even inside her pockets. Anna’s only comfort was thinking about Elsa’s arms around her. Not even the sight of Arendelle downhill quelled the chill.

Anna might be a born-Arendellian, but she grew up in the south of Norway. She was ill-prepared for the hostile North. 

However, if Elsa had taught her anything, was that even under the dark frozen sky there were objects of wonder.

As Anna trudged across the snow-sea which reached her mid-calf, something caught her eye. A narrow stone-wall led deep into the forest. Only two feet tall and falling apart already. Frost covered its surface. 

Her heart leaped. She deviated from her path without a second thought, legs racing, pulse and breath quickening with emotion.

The picture-stone came into view after. It lied deeper into the woods. A bow-shaped slab. Abstract ships, stick-people, reindeer herds gathered on it in a violent array of reds. Waves, antlers, and swords, a story carved in stone. A sacrifice.

And in the center, she found her.

There was something else to Arendelle.

“The Queen,” The hotel-butler had explained.

“The Queen of Norway?” Anna had asked, much to his amusement.

“No, the real Queen.”

The Snow Queen, who with her reindeer-pulled chariot cast a shadow of frost over every corner of the North. Her arms rose towards the sky, where her snowflake curled like clouds, like the winds she sent south. The slab was thirteen-foot-tall and rose high above Anna, with its depiction of the nordic spirit. Below her, was an inscription.

As it usually did, time halted. Anna’s throat dried, her eyes widened. She covered her mouth. She could no longer hear the sharp branch-rattling or wind-whistling over the sound of her own warm blood pounding in her ears. She no longer felt cold. 

She reached forward, tracing with a fingertip the carvings. 

The finds couldn’t be younger than seven hundred years old. Had it truly been that long? Oh, Anna could nearly feel the sculptor’s trembling hands, their warm breath. She placed a hand where someone else’s hands had once been. 

She searched for her journal inside her coat and scribbled down the runes she saw, as well as the stone and the wall she’d seen before.

Anna was no archaeologist— she wasn’t nearly smart enough—, but she understood why someone may choose this path. When she gazed upon this stone, it was as if there was no distance at all. 

The icy wind pushed against her, pulling her out of her haze. Yes! She began to stroll downhill. She’d prove her usefulness! She’d alert the scholars of the new find.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

Anna and the archaeologists were two land mammals sharing the same habitat, only, while they searched with brushes and trowels, Anna searched with a wooden stick. As non-competitive species, they often shared the same space, considering they knew her story. Anna wasn’t sure why the scholars tolerated her, but maybe it was because she and Elsa were a package deal now.

As soon as she reached her destination, Elsa threw her arms around her shoulders, kissed her cheek, and asked:

“Are you alright?”

She pulled back, anxious eyes studied her from head to toe. Anna’s heart always swelled with adoration when she heard that voice.

“I am,” she soothed her. “Oh, Elsa, you won’t believe what I found!”

“Wait.” Elsa tugged her towards the campfire and caressed Anna’s cheek with the back of her hand. “You’re cold. Come here.”

Soon, they sat on a log before the magnificent dig. A farmstead, they’d said. Stone walls and a half-rotten roof still mostly standing, surrounded by icy farming grounds where lamb bones were found.

The more awe-inspiring part, of course, was that a family had lived there. The farmstead was someone’s home. Elsa had described the findings in length: a family of three. All of them Christians, and funnily enough, also sheepherders. Thirteenth century. The settlement of Árnadalr lied many kilometers south, but this family lived in solitude.

Anna now wore an extra coat, held a mug of cocoa in her hands, and had Elsa fussing over her like a mother hen.

“What took you so long? You could get lost out there! And you left your scarf behind again. Here, let me find it.”

“Well, aren’t you a protective one,” Anna teased her, sipping her drink. Elsa’s pale skin flushed.

“It’s my job, isn’t it?” she muttered.

Before Anna could snort and ask what that meant, Professor Mattias, who was in charge of the dig, intervened to ask about Anna’s findings in the woods. Her enthusiasm immediately reassured everyone that she brought good news, and while they couldn’t travel at night, they still celebrated in the hotel. They cheered with vodka at the charcoal-sketch of the picture-stone Anna had presented. Yes, she’d made herself useful.

As they congratulated her, Elsa remained silent.

The hotel was so old, half the lightbulbs didn’t work. There was only one phone, and a dozen residents lined up every day to make their thirty-minutes calls and clog up the narrow smelly corridor. Each curtain was half-eaten by moths; you’d be wise not to put your clothes in the closet. Three stories of dusty light, creaky stairways, and dirty cracked windows. You could hear every neighbor from three doors away, and the ice clawed down from the roof into a fang-curtain before every window. They offered only one blanket per bed, but Elsa had provided Anna with a woolen quilt on her first night. That had perhaps been the first step towards falling in love with her. Between paying for both of them and giving up her own warmth, Elsa had extended unconditional kindness towards Anna from day one. Maybe they’d been doomed from the start. 

“They’re out of single rooms,” she’d clarified upon Anna’s arrival. “And I’ve been paying for an empty bed for the past week. Please, I insist.”

It might have passed as simple pragmatism had Elsa not been Elsa. It wasn’t only about her treatment towards Anna, no, but about how she’d treat a stranger in need, that made Anna lose control of her heart. 

She asked her about her silence, in the light of their whale-oil lamp (their room’s electricity hadn’t worked since the ‘30s), as she tried to translate the runes with her journal and a book she’d grabbed from the local library.

“Is everything okay, Elsa?”

Elsa was sitting on her bed, silently combing her hair. She wore only her slip, which was quite distracting, but she didn’t have the intention of getting into bed, despite looking so tired.

At Anna’s words, she tilted her head.

“Why? Are you feeling poorly?”

Anna snorted.

“I’m okay. Are you?”

“It’s nothing.”

Anna sighed. She closed the book and stared at Elsa.

“You never let me pull off this whole.. avoiding the subject thing,” she protested, and then extended an arm towards her, begging to come closer. A new anxious question settled on her tongue. “Are you…? Do you feel…? I mean, do you feel safe with me, Elsa? Like you can trust me?”

Elsa’s eyes studied her for one agonizing moment. She stood up. Well, they did only meet a month back. Weren’t they moving too fast? Her grandfather would certainly disapprove. 

“It’s not that,” Elsa murmured as she approached Anna. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and nuzzled the top of her head. She planted a kiss there, and Anna’s heart skipped a beat. “I do trust you.”

Anna saw her pale fingers brush over the pages of her journal. Her uncertain translation read:

This stone was raised in memory of Agðar and Iðunn, who met their end in their travels. Their daughter carved this stone.

“You’re becoming quite a good translator,” Elsa commented, and placed another kiss on Anna’s hair. Heat crept up to the tips of her ears.

“T-thank you,” she replied, as she ripped off the page and stored it in her folder, alongside all other translations and sketches she’d scribbled since her arrival: small runestones, illustrations of archaeological finds, and multiple petroglyphs of the Queen, all of which she’d shared with the archaeologists. “You’re an excellent translator as well! I mean, I suppose you are. You work at the dig, after all.”

Elsa hummed.

“I’m not an archaeologist. I’m only a volunteer.” she argued. “In fact, I believe you’ve been more helpful than me.” She flipped over a page. “The Snow Queen?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah,” Anna stammered. “Kind of a passion project.”

“For the Snow Queen?” Elsa raised an eyebrow. “Should I be jealous?”

“Well, legend has it she was single, right? Oh! Thy Majesty! Pardon my manners, but I shoult say thy bosom looks exquisite. Are thee by any chance in need of a shieldmaiden?”

A hand snaked around her waist. Anna shrieked as Elsa’s fingers dug into the sensitive spot. Between laughter and screeching, she curled on herself and tried to swat her hand away. 

“Come on,” Elsa laughed. “It’s getting late. And keep working on your performance. That’s not how people spoke back in the day.”

She ruffled Anna’s hair and strode back towards her bed, and— alright, she saw swaying her hips on purpose. 

Anna pulled her knees to her chest, placing her heels on the edge of the seat and hugging her legs.

“You said you grew up here, right?”

“More or less, yes. Why?”

“Oh, I was just wondering. About the Snow Queen, you know.”

“What about her?”

“…That’s what I meant to ask.”

Elsa sighed. She rubbed her eyes.

“Just… some fairy tale,” she dismissed it, with a wave of her hand. “To make children behave. If you were nasty, a monster would feel your frozen heart and take you to her palace.”

“Was it a nice palace, at least?”

“I wouldn’t know. I was quite obedient growing up.”

“Oh, excuse me.”

Elsa chuckled, and Anna’s heart fluttered with affection.

“I was!” she insisted, giving Anna a mischievous look. “But no. I don’t think it was a nice place. In fact, they say everything about the Queen was cruel and horrible. She never seemed like girlfriend material to me.”

“You think?” Anna asked. “I don’t know. Maybe she was lonely.”

Elsa cast her eyes down, lips curling into a melancholic smile.

“Well, I doubt even she could resist your charms.”

With a delicate finger, she pulled Anna’s hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Now the heat was in Anna’s stomach, in her chest, in the way Elsa gazed at her with such an unexpected adoration, she couldn’t help but to raise her head and kiss her lips. Elsa sighed contentedly, her hand cradling the back of Anna’s neck. Her mind spun around as their lips brushed together. 

Then Elsa pulled away, with a pensive expression. She bit her lip.

“Tell you what,” she said, grasping Anna’s hands. “Come with me tomorrow. I want to show you something.”

Anna grinned. That was good enough for her. She’d wait for Elsa to speak in her own terms and time. 

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

“That’s the thing,” she remembered her grandfather say, when she was seven. “I doubt they got lost. We would have found the bodies by now. I bet the reason they’re gone is because they didn’t want to deal with the responsibility, so they thrusted it on me.”

Anna woke again. Her hands trembled.

That had been a lie. 

That had to be a lie. 

He had always lied, hadn’t he? Maybe he just despised her.

Yes, she’d find them and prove him wrong. 

They loved her. They were dead.

Thankfully, Elsa wasn’t disturbed by her pathetic dreams. Anna was surprised she still put up with her, but it was better not to take risks.

She grabbed her coat and got ready for the day.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

Elsa guided her through the lonely snow-sea of the mountains in the dark winter morning. The Queen seemed to have it against them, because she blew her snow all over and made them struggle to climb up the hills. 

“Um… Elsa? How much until we get there?” Anna asked, as she could no longer feel her toes.

“Not much,” Elsa absently replied. Her eyes drifted all over the hills. She grasped Anna’s hand and pulled her along. 

The cliffs overlooking Arendelle were a dark shadow in the distance, but they gained definition as both women approached. They didn’t draw a 90 degrees angle with the ground— rather, the earth elevated slowly, in bumps and rocky points, rising like a heavy breath towards the cliff’s foot. It was a rather secluded spot, where the snow didn’t hit as harshly. There they could rest until the time to search came again.

Yet Elsa had other plans. She toiled forward, along the cliff-wall, until the runestones came into view.

Blood-red lines coiled around the edges of a small stone plate, only half as tall as Anna herself. It protruded from near the foot of the cliff, high above. They exchanged a quick look.

“Can you read what it says?” Asked Elsa. Anna cringed thinking about her rune-reading skills.

“I can try?” She vacillated. Looking up, she read: “…Sif and Afvaldr erected this stone in memory of Nafni, son of Ulfarr, father of Afvaldr and husbandman of Sif, who met his end fighting the snow.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She saw Elsa grin from the corner of her eye.

“Anna,” she tugged at her hand. “Look.”

Anna followed the direction of Elsa’s finger, and saw extending into the distance a trail of stones with engravings on them. Small, big, at some points more spaced out than in others. They followed the length of the cliff-wall like a series of little stars, so tiny under the mountain’s shadow.

Anna’s throat tightened with emotion. 

She stepped towards the next stone. This one had a cross on it.

“Feykir and his daughter, Esja, had this stone raised in memory of Rjúpa, Feykir’s wife and Esja’s mother, who was taken by the wicked snow. May God help her spirit.”

This one was close enough to touch. Anna traced the edge of the cross with a finger. 

“How did you know this place?” She asked.

“Oh, you know.” Elsa shrugged. “This is my home.”

Many of the stones were cenotaphs, Elsa explained. No one was buried beneath this soil, but they might as well be, because each of these people, with names and loved ones, felt only a breath away.

“Bersa raised this stone in memory of Ilmr, her father’s sister. She was killed when trying to kill the snow.”

Anna’s breath grew heavier. She scrutinized these patterns, these strange writings, for several hours; they all dated to this wicked, living, killing snow.

Her heart vigorously pounded warm blood into her fingertips.

Then, she spotted a particular runestone. It was the greatest one of all, far away from the others, and it sported the same figure she’d seen only a day before; the Snow Queen with her arms towards the sky. Around her coiled a serpent with words on its skin.

In her blind excitement, Anna hastily climbed over rocks until she reached it. Elsa followed closely behind. 

“Do you know what it says?” Elsa asked when she reached her.

Anna squinted at the words. Its inscription was the longest she’d seen so far.

“It says… Agðar and Iðunn came from the south. It was with them that the snow came.” She stepped to the side, to read the following line. “It was their daughter that brought the evil, with which she could slay a hundred men in… Árnadalr? So… um… Crap. I don’t know what it says here.”

She turned around, expecting to find Elsa willing to lend a hand, but her expression was painted by an unexpected sadness.

Anna’s stomach sank a little.

“Elsa?”

Elsa lowered her head.

“It says they killed her,” she explained. Anna squinted.

“She was real?”

“So it seems.”

“The Snow Queen? No. That’s… too much even for Arendelle. Besides, vikings wrote a lot of weird stuff, right?”

“It’s what the stone tells.” Elsa pointed out. “I know I said it was only a tale last night, but…”

“Wait. Agðar and Iðunn?” Anna checked the names on the stone again. “Were they…? Oh, Elsa… She really was real. And her parents…”

“…Yes. Agðar and Iðunn were the names of the people who lived in the dig,” Elsa clarified.

“So, the Snow Queen… she…” Anna looked at the carvings in stone again. Despair seized her heart. “Oh, no, Elsa. She had a family. They… Oh, goodness…”

A family, yes, one the Snow Queen had missed very much, enough to raise a stone in their memory. To think about this loss, this pain that she thought she knew even if she wasn’t quite sure, tore her heart in half. 

Her eyes watered. 

“I don’t think she was a monster.”

There was… a long history of death and pain in that family, wasn’t it?.

She heard Elsa breathe behind her. 

“Anna, there’s…”

She dropped whatever it was she was about to say when she noticed the mist behind Anna’s eyes.

“I really hope I find my parents,” she murmured, then furiously rubbed her eyes. “D-did I ever tell you what happened to them?”

She could feel Elsa’s pain-stricken gaze on her.

“If that’s something you want to do, I’ll listen.”

Anna nodded. Her throat constricted. 

“There was a storm,” she recalled. “I don’t remember what happened very well. I-I can’t even remember their names, and my grandfather won’t tell me, and besides…”

“He won’t?”

“Yeah, so I think I got lost, because I couldn’t see them anywhere. Next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital. My grandfather adopted me afterwards.”

“But you’re the one searching for the bodies?”

“What can I say?” Anna shrugged and forced a crooked smile. “Guess he didn’t want to… unbury any painful memories.”

“He didn’t care to find his son?”

“…Or you could put it like that, too.” She wiped her eyes, looking down. “I think I’m beginning to understand him, though.”

Elsa squinted.

“How come?”

“Well…” She kicked the snow at her feet. “He told me once they’d left me in the snow. I like to think I actually got lucky, but I…” She shook her head. “I feel so selfish, Elsa. Like I want them to be dead, just so I can know they didn’t abandon me.”

“They didn’t,” Elsa blurted out with a thick voice. “Anna, your family loved you.”

“Then I shouldn’t be looking for them like this.”

Her voice sounded pathetic even to her.

She brought her hands together, and carefully leaned against Elsa.

“What are you going to do, then?”

She sucked in a ragged breath.

“I don’t know,” Anna admitted. “I don’t wanna go home. My grandfather…”

“Does he hurt you?”

“He’s never hit me.”

Elsa’s arm snaked around her waist.

“What will you do?” Anna then asked, trying to shift the attention from herself. “After the dig is over, I mean. You’ve lived your whole life here, right?”

“In a way.”

“Will you stay?”

That was a difficult question. Elsa could imply she’d leave her and neither of them would know, because Anna didn’t know what she’d do, either. Maybe she’d be the one to leave Elsa.

Elsa closed her eyes.

“I don’t know. Arendelle brings a lot of memories, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

Then Elsa lowered her gaze. Screwed her eyes shut. She pulled away from Anna and wrapped both arms around herself.

“Let’s just go back,” she said curtly. Anna’s heart weighed heavily in her chest— from thinking of her family, from thinking about the Queen, from this sudden rejection—, but she respected Elsa’s space. Had she done something to scare her away? Oh, she surely must have.

They climbed down from the hills even though Anna’s toes were freezing. The mountains made her feel hopeless but so did the sight of Arendelle, and with Elsa walking several feet before her, not even glancing back, Anna felt as though there was no respite from this tired heaviness. She wanted nothing but to curl into a ball and sleep. 

Just before they entered the town, Elsa stopped.

“Anna… listen.” She began. Her tone made Anna’s shoulders droop. “I-I can’t keep doing this. We can’t.”

Anna’s heart quivered.

“W-what do you mean?”

“I mean… this has to end.” She raised her shoulders to her ears. Avoided Anna’s eyes. “I-I’m sorry. Goodbye, Anna.”

Her heart cracked open. Anna shook her head.

“What? W-why?” She shouldn’t feel this surprised. “Did… did I do something? I’m so sorry if I did. Just…”

The pain behind Elsa’s eyes was indescribable.

“No.” She interrupted. “It wasn’t you. Just… please. I can’t say it right now.”

Anna wanted to reply (to scream, cry, seize her hands and not let go), but words failed her as Elsa turned her back to her and entered Arendelle.

As simple as that, Anna was alone. 

She didn’t begin to cry until Elsa was out of sight, like a pathetic little child. 

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

During her last night in Arendelle, Anna dreamed of her sister.

Yes, she’d had a sister, and even though she didn’t remember her name or face she remembered she’d loved her, once. She remembered holding her hand and running in the snow, building snowmen and drinking chocolate with her. The affection and tenderness lingered after, as if carved on stone.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

"Anna, wait.”

Her breath and heart came to a halt. Turning around, she found her standing there, in her blue dress and gripping a rucksack. Her expression was both serious and desperate; pained. She raised a hand as if to grasp Anna’s.

“Oh. Elsa,” Anna blurted. The need to cover her face nearly overpowered her. “Uh… Hello.”

Elsa took her acknowledgment as a cue to come closer. Two long steps and a stare, just for a moment; and Anna understood she didn’t know what she was doing, either. Did she intend to apologize for being brusque? Her approach seemed to indicate so. It wouldn’t be unlike her. Anna was willing to accept and move on if that was the case, but truth was, she didn’t deserve an apology when she’d been the one in the wrong.

However, Elsa looked anything but angry.

Rather, her blue eyes drifted over to the ship in port; the sea. Her throat bobbed up and down.

“I suppose we’ll be leaving in the same ship,” she pointed out with a lopsided smile. Anna tried to smile back. 

“Yep. So it seems.”

“Though I believe we’re early,” continued Elsa. “I was wondering if you cared for a walk in town.”

Anna looked to the side. 

“Elsa, I… don’t know.”

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she insisted. “I know. I know. Y-you don’t have to listen to me. But I promise I’ll explain everything, if you’ll have me.”

“Oh, Elsa, there’s nothing to explain,” Anna reassured her. “You just… don’t feel the same way I do. That’s normal. I’m not mad, you know.”

Elsa shook her head.

“That’s not it,” she insisted. “It's… more complicated than that. Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you this ever since I found you.” She wrung her hands together and looked down. “I just hope you’ll believe me when I’m done.”

Regret and desperation were draped over her posture like a heavy cloak, dragging her down. Even when hurt, Elsa still made her heart skip a beat with every gesture of kindness, and this one was no exception. Both her lovestruck haze and her intellectual curiosity compelled her to give Elsa a chance. 

She picked up her bag and extended her arms to the sides.

“I’m all ears.”

Elsa’s grin reminded her of why she loved her. 

“Really?”

“Yep! One-hundred-per-cent. Now, hurry up!”

Elsa sighed in relief. She placed a hand on her chest.

“Alright. Come with me.”

She led her out of the port and into town. Despite having spent the last few months in Arendelle, Anna wasn’t eager to revisit it, but it was different when she knew that’d be the last time she’d see it. She spotted the playground where she and her sister had played (her big sis always hugged her from behind when they went down the slide, because it wasn’t fun going alone), and saw the place where they bought cod and salmon on the weekends. The little kindergarten she’d attended had closed down, but the building still stood. Most streets hadn’t been paved. Mud stuck to her boots. The sky was still white and cold, the houses dull, and the people as austere and uncaring as they’d always been. 

“When I was little,” Elsa began. “My family and I were hiding from a very dangerous man. Of course, I didn’t know that until I was much older. At the time it all felt like a game of hide and seek. We left the mainland, and when that wasn’t enough, we went even further.” She gulped. “We crossed a line that night, and someone else suffered the consequences.”

Anna bit her lip but didn’t interrupt. She feared any disturbance may break the spell and chase Elsa away.

“Anna, what do you remember from the dig?”

“There was a family. With a kid. The Snow Queen. And… her parents died.” Anna recounted. “Is that it? You were reminded of your family?”

“…I was, yes,” replied Elsa. “Anna…”

Was that it? Had it been a dumb case of miscommunication? Of course! She’d been so stupid. Neither of them had been in the right place back then, but now they were, and they could sort out the problem. Perhaps, Elsa didn’t hate her.

Only then Anna realized they were standing before the old house.

Her stomach sank. Her breath hitched and a shiver ran down her spine, mouth hanging ajar. She stepped back.

“Oh, no,” she heard Elsa mumble. 

The house was still made of wood, although it had lost its color. Two stories. A window was broken and so was one of the steps leading up to the entrance. From inside came the smell of dust and rust and rot.

“Anna?”

She looked at Elsa, and couldn’t find the words to beg or cry or scream, but she didn’t need to because Elsa didn’t ask questions. She held her reluctant gaze for a moment and then she nodded, stepped forward, and took Anna’s hand. 

She managed to hold her composure and lead Elsa inside. 

The house had been empty for thirteen years, and it had collected dust and spiderwebs over time. It still felt like home, though. A cold fireplace, where Mama often sang to them, or the rocking chair by the windows, where Papa sat to tell bedtime stories.

Anna’s ribcage unlocked with force. She exhaled shakily and blinked the blurriness away.

Elsa was dreadfully silent, but her thumb caressed Anna’s knuckles. This gave her the strength to climb up the stairs towards her old bedroom. The window was so dirty, you could barely see at all. Nearly all the furniture was gone, save for a pitiful nightstand.

“Anna?”

Anna placed both palms on the nightstand and screwed her eyes shut.

“W-would you tell me about your family? Please?”

She did not have a family to embrace her but perhaps she could bask in the comfort of someone else’s warmth.

“My father was a physicist. My mother was a historian,” continued Elsa. “A-and I had a little sister. Even then, I loved her with everything I was.”

The drawer was stuck. Anna struggled with it.

“W-we never meant to leave her behind.” Elsa’s breathing was laborious. “But there was a blizzard; a small avalanche. And she got lost. We tried to go back for her but it was too late. We’d already reached the other side.”

The wood made a horrible rattling noise, but it eventually gave in under Anna’s strength.

“To this day I still don’t understand how such a thing could happen. We spent thirteen years trying to go back, a-and my parents didn’t make it. The people in town saw something in me. They feared me, and I never knew why. I-I didn’t mean to scare them. My parents tried to find a way back, but they—they didn’t make it. I-I took care of them myself. Gave them a proper…” her voice cracked horribly. “T-they deserved to see her again, yet only three years later the very same window opened itself to me. I didn’t cross it. In fact, it crossed over me.”

Inside the drawer was a single photo frame. Anna picked it in her trembling hands.

“Elsa…”

“I was happy. I was back, after so long. And then I found my little sister, too. I can’t describe the way I felt when I saw her again, all grown up after thirteen years.”

Anna traced a finger around her sister’s childish face on the frame’s glass.

“Elsa, I…”

“But then, I began to feel… something else. I thought I was just… happy to have her back, even if I hadn’t dared to tell her the truth. But I was wrong. What I felt… scared me. I wanted to be with her all the time, but I couldn’t stand to look at her face. I felt disgusting. I-I still do.”

Anna put the frame down, and studied her sister from head to toe. The same blue eyes, snow-like hair. The same gentle features but also the same inner strength her broken little mind still remembered. Her thoughts were no longer made of words; she couldn’t hear them over the blood pounding in her ears— her heart would jump out of her chest at any moment. They had all come to a halt as her brain processed Elsa’s words. Her sister. Her sister, who had been away for so long, who was now back, who had taken care of their parents’ burial alone and who still made Anna feel like the most loved person in the world.

Her heart made up its mind. She threw her arms around Elsa’s neck.

“Oh, Elsa…” she breathed, and choked back a sob. “You’re not disgusting. Please, don’t ever say that. I love you.”

Her sister. She was back, from beyond time. She was the same girl who tucked Anna into bed back then. She’d taken care of baby sheep yet she saw herself through monstrous lenses. The Snow Queen, in love with her little sister, who one day vanished from her farmstead and was never seen again. Who raised a stone in memory of their parents, for people hundreds of years later to remember them. This girl with a quivering body, holding Anna in her arms.

A tear ran down Anna’s cheek.

“I realized that, regardless of how I felt, I would lose you again if I didn’t tell you,” Elsa whispered. “That’s all that matters. We can forget about whatever it is that I feel. That’s alright by me.”

Anna shook her head against her sister’s shoulder.

“Well, g-good thing it doesn’t have to come down to that, right?” Anna chuckled wetly. She slowly pulled back, and found her sister’s hands in hers.

“Even now that you know the truth?” Elsa closed her eyes. “No. It isn’t right.”

“What are you talking about? Elsa, can’t you see? I love you. I… will need some time to wrap my head around this, but… All these years, I thought I was alone, b-but I wasn’t! You and Mama and Papa were always out there. You were even searching for me! A-and now I have you back, and… Oh my Goodness, I got my sister back… A-and she’s in love with me.”

Anna hesitated for only one second. For some reason, she could believe her, almost without trying. Her sister, yes, it wasn’t normal, but after walking across time and back– after losing her for so long, normal was out the window for her. She wouldn’t lose her, in one way or the other.

“I’m sorry.” Elsa murmured.

“What? Elsa, have you met you?” Anna spluttered, then laughed. “Not everyone is lucky enough to say their sister loves them this much.” She stood on tip-toes and pressed her lips to Elsa’s— her sister’s— her family’s. The warmth that spread inside her body felt natural, and it did so even more when a hand cupped the back of her neck. She pulled back after a moment. “We have time to figure things out, Elsa,” she said. “Y-you’ll come with me, right? You’ll give me a chance?”

Her sister’s eyes brimmed with tears. Her hand tucked a strand of red hair behind Anna’s ear. 

“I’m scared, Anna,” she admitted. “I don’t know what I’m doing. But I’ll stay with you. I promise.”

Anna grinned like a lovestruck fool.

“We’ll figure it out together,” she reassured her. Then a siren came from the port, echoing through Arendelle. They exchanged a smile. Anna stole one more peck before Elsa could speak.

“Are you satisfied? Shall we go now?” Elsa giggled.

They made it outside the house, and once outside, the brightness blinded Anna for an instant. When she inhaled the fresh ocean air, she felt as if she could float. The damp, heavy odor of the house no longer clung to her lungs. 

She looked back. The house hadn’t changed. Its wood was still colorless and empty of life. It was completely empty.

“Anna?”

Her sister stood next to her, more beautiful than she remembered. She looked at her with all the love in the world.

The siren blared again.

Large snowflakes swirled past them like a swarm of puffy hens. 

Anna grasped her sister’s hand.

“Come on,” she said. “It’s time to go.”

[jjtheangel]

Unconditional love with a side of uncontrollable anger

JJ Maybank x y/n

A/N: Hey guys, so this is literally the first fictional thing I’ve ever written for any fandom I’ve ever been in. Of course I’ve written things in school, growing up, but never anything I actually wanted to write. I’m definitely not an English major. This was a hard thing to release to the public. Pretty please don’t judge me too harshly. I tried my best. Also, I wrote it on my phone on google docs and then when I posted it here on mobile, it seemed like it was all weirdly spaced and not indented correctly so sorry if it looks messed up 🤷🏻‍♀️

warnings: angst, fluff, bad language, barely edited

I am confused about mostly everything in my life. I have no idea what my future will be like, if I even have one. One thing I know for sure is, my four best friends will be by my side always. I say four best friends but one of them might be more than a best friend. John B and Pope are like the brothers I always wanted and Kie is the absolute best friend a girl could possibly ask for. I’m so beyond thankful for them. JJ is a whole other story. It’s just completely different when I look at him. It’s not even close to a brother vibe. When I look at him, all I can think about is how beautiful and perfect he is. To all the other pogues and kooks living on this island, he’s just another low-life like the rest of us. To me, he’s a gift from the universe, a total angel that deserves everything he could ever want and need. I’m not exactly sure what I did in my past life to deserve to be in his presence basically every day of my life but I’m so freaking thankful for him.

I mean of course I’ve been in a few relationships and I’ve maybe experienced what people call “love”. Real love to me though, is what I feel when I look at him and what I feel when I get distracted from a conversation with my friends because I’m too busy thinking about him and wondering what he’s thinking about. I have to admit I’m a little disappointed in myself remembering that every time I’ve been intimate with other guys, all I’ve thought about is JJ and how much more better it would be to be experiencing those things with him instead of any other guy in the world. To him I’m just another one of his best friends. Of course he hits on me and says sexual shit to me all the time just like he does with Kie but that’s just the type of guy he is. If only he wasn’t joking around when he winks at me and tells me how sexy I look in a new dress that he doesn’t know I bought just to look good for him.

I’ve shared pretty much everything with that boy, all my darkest secrets, and in return he does the same. One of those secrets includes how much of a terrible person his father is. He’s a total piece of shit and I’m pretty sure there’s no one in the entire world that I hate more than his dad. Just thinking about his dad hurting him physically and verbally makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry for days.

I didn’t know it when I woke up this morning but apparently today was going to be one of those days. I somehow forgot to put my phone on silent when I passed out last night and woke up to my phone ringing loud as hell. John B was calling and it was still pretty early so that had me instantly worried. “Hey y/n, sorry it’s super early but I have some bad news. It’s not surprising but that piece of shit messed up our boy pretty bad again. I know for a fact he wants you here and your company would make him feel a lot better and definitely cheer him up. Get here as soon as you can.” John B said to me with a sad tone of voice. “Ok I’m on my way, thanks for calling dude.” I replied with a few tears rolling down my cheeks. That was the absolute worst news to wake up to but I didn’t really have time to process my feelings, I needed to get to him fast.

I walked in John B's house, the place that always made me feel at home and always made me instantly happy. Today wasn’t one of those days that I smiled while walking through the front door. John B and JJ had their backs to me and I smiled a little seeing John B holding JJ’s hand, trying to give him any bit of comfort he could. I then saw Pope and Kiara sitting on the couch with their arms crossed and a miserable look on their faces. Kie looked up at me with a sad face. While she wasn’t really aware of how totally in love I was with our beautiful blonde-haired friend, she definitely knew I had feelings for him. I was just so thankful that they got here even faster than I did to help comfort the boy we all loved so much. I slowly walked over to where JJ was sitting, not yet ready to see how sad and disappointed he was. I gently touched his shoulder and said “Hi angel, I’m here, here for you. I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. You know how shitty my Jeep is. How are you feeling?” “Definitely better now that you’re here y/n.” he said while pulling me into a hug. He winced a little when he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. I didn’t want to hurt him any more than he already was but I was glad to help him in any way that I could.

Pope looked over at us and realized that he was bleeding through his shirt and said “Hey J, how about we clean you up some and get you some new clothes.” JJ sighed but nodded his head anyways. He wasn’t the best at accepting help because he always wanted to look strong in front of us and be the one that was always here for us. I knew for a fact that he was the strongest person I know and he didn’t have to ever worry about looking weak in front of us. We all loved him no matter what. JJ reached down and pulled his shirt over his head and I gasped. He had bruises and cuts all over his abs and chest. It was worse than it’s ever been before. I felt a white hot rush of anger run through me. I couldn’t take it anymore, having the love of my life go through this pain. I abruptly stood up and everyone looked at me worried about what I was feeling. “You know what? Fuck this! I cannot stand to see our boy go through any more pain! I’m gonna go talk to that piece of shit right now and give him a piece of my mind!”

I rushed out to my car with everyone hot on my heels. They were worried about what I was going to do and what would happen after I confronted JJ’s dad. They knew I was the kind of person who was always sweet and kind to everyone, the kind of person you should watch out for. When I get angry, I don’t hold back at all, especially when someone hurts the people I love. I slammed the door to my Jeep and started it quickly. Everyone was yelling in protest but they knew I was going through too many emotions to listen to what they were saying. They jumped in John B’s van and followed after me. We all arrived at JJ’s house and I rushed to the front door. I faintly heard through my anger John B tell Kie and Pope to wait in the van and that him and JJ could handle me. I burst through the front door and started frantically searching for Luke Maybank with the boys right behind me. I found him on the couch with empty beer bottles all around him and a full one in his hand. “Hey fuckface”, I yelled “ I’m gonna tell you this only one time and you’re going to listen to me god dammit!”

“And who might you be sweetheart?” his disgusting voice slurred. John B and JJ cut in right after. “Y/n I don’t think this is the best idea, don’t make it any worse-“John B said to me, extremely worried. “I promise everything is going to be okay baby girl. I will be okay.” JJ interrupted him.

“No no, let her speak boy. She seems like she can handle herself.” Luke said to all of us.

“I will not tolerate you putting your hands on him anymore! You’re going to keep your hands off of him and keep your mouth shut around him! He does not deserve your bullshit! The things you say to him are not true and the things you put him through, no one deserves!especially not him.” I yelled

“Oh, I see..you’ve got yourself a little crush on my worthless son. Well sweetness, you’ll get over that eventually, he can’t give you anything you need. He’s just a sack of shit.” his father responded to me.

“Actually, you’re a horrible human being and he deserves a father who sees how perfect he is and appreciates him for everything he is! And actually stupid, I’m in love with him, not a stupid crush. He’s the most amazing, most perfect human being that has ever been on this planet and you don’t deserve to even be around him! He’s an extremely loyal best friend and would do absolutely anything for the people he cares about! If I find out one more time that you put him in any pain, physical or emotional, I will come here and make you regret it, I can promise you that!” I was out of breath with tears rolling down my face but I still managed to tell him what I needed to.

“Hey y/n, let's just get out of here. You got your point across, I promise.” John B begged me, ready to get us all out of this situation. JJ just stared at me in awe.

“Yeah I think that would be a good idea for y’all to get the hell out of my house! I’ll think about what you said sweet cheeks.” Luke's shitty voice said to us, with a mean smile on his face.

John B grabbed my arm gently and pulled me towards the door. JJ just quickly followed behind us, still speechless. We all got back in the van and John B took a deep breath and started driving away. Kie and Pope carefully looked at us in the back of the van, waiting for an explanation of what happened. I wasn’t ready to give any kind of explanation. I realized that I had accidentally said my feelings for JJ out loud. I gave her one look and she knew I needed her and reached out to hug me. Before I could get to her, JJ touched my shoulder and looked at me intently. I looked back at his sad eyes and put my hands on his cheeks gently. He then put his hands over top of mine. “Did I just hear you correctly, you said that you are in love with me or am I just dreaming?” He quietly said to me. “You’re not dreaming angel, I meant what I said and I’m sorry I blew up on your dad. I really really hope that he doesn’t punish you for it. No matter what happens, I will always be here for you.” I replied to him.

“You’re in love with me?? How is this possible? You’re freaking perfect and I’m me..” JJ said in surprise.

“You’re the perfect one J and you’re everything I’ve ever wanted, I couldn’t possibly love anyone more than I love you. I know-“ He suddenly interrupted me by putting his lips on mine. Now I thought I was the one dreaming. Was this finally happening? He actually wanted me back? How? He started off kissing me gently then more passionately as the seconds went by. We were both desperate to be closer to one another.

“So..now that we all finally know you guys both are madly in love with each other, can y’all stop doing that in front of the rest of us right now? Please and thanks.” Pope said while laughing.

The two of us broke apart and looked at our best friends in the van, smiling and laughing with us. “So, just so I’m clear, I’m yours and you’re mine babygirl?” JJ said sweetly.

“Yes, I will always be yours angel.” I replied

“Finallyyyy!” Kie and John B said at the exact same time. “Jinks!” they said again while laughing hysterically.

I was just so thankful that my friends wanted us to be together as much we wanted each other. Plus, they all still loved me even when I let my anger get the best of me. No one will ever stop me from defending the four people I love most in this world, especially my darling JJ.

@spilledtee @uwubonebabie @jjouterbanks

[skruttet]

Freedom is the Best Thing

In the last analysis, Tove’s attitude to the world view of the left, the Social Democrats and the Communists remains unclear. On the basis of her letters and notebooks, she seems only to have been interested in the way in which the various ideologies related to creative art, and above all to her own work. And she was concerned about her artistic freedom. It was almost as though she felt sorry and wanted to apologize. In 1948 she wrote that all her life she would be ‘an anti-social = apolitical painter, a so-called individualist who paints lemons, writes fairytales, collects strange objects and hobbies, and despises mass meetings and associations. Looks ridiculous, but that is how I want my life.’

Socially committed art, like art in general, was of course only a small part of the left’s ideology. But in her letters to Eva at least, Tove did not comment on current political matters. Her political opinions were close to those of the Finland-Swedish intelligentsia and mainly espoused tolerance, with an accommodating approach to the different views and alternatives offered by human existence and society. But the ideas of the left cannot have been far removed from her own values. Her affairs with men like Tapiovaara and Atos Wirtanen would not have been possible otherwise, and neither would her friendships with left-wing figures and the social circle represented by the left-wing intellectuals at Kauniainen. She also had the courage to declare her political views in pictorial form.

Although during her life Tove kept a very open mind about everything, there was not a trace of her tolerance when it came to the matters of war and fascism. In those she was an absolute and dedicated pacifist and anti-fascist. In her ideas and lifestyle she was a feminist before her time, though she would never have used that word about herself. Her open-mindedness also meant a great deal to the Finland-Swedish sexual minorities. Though she did not take to the barricades on that issue either, the open and natural attitude she adopted towards it in her life and books had a significant effect on the secretive and scandal-laden atmosphere of the time.

As a young girl Tove had drawn the first Moomin-like figure on the wall of the outside lavatory at the summer cottage in Pellinki, a figure that looked like Immanuel Kant. Beside it she had written ‘Freedom is the best thing’. She was preoccupied by freedom in its various forms, and its study became a major theme throughout the whole of her work.

In art she stressed that she wanted to be free, and this was also important in her personal life. A strong belief in ideologies and the collective goals they entailed was far removed from her world. The prohibitions introduced by man and society are most clearly visible in everyday life, and in her books Tove took an openly negative attitude to them. School, with its rules and regulations, had already filled her with intense dislike. In Tove’s world, disobedience was not a grave sin. In her own life she acted according to her own views and her own morality and did not yield to public opinion, even on major issues, but she did not make too big a deal of it. Her literary characters were not always law-abiding, and her early plays and books met with disapproval, as it was feared that they would lead children into bad habits.

Tove had perceived the restrictions on the place of women in society when as a child she observed her parents’ marriage. In her own life, she also had to be constantly on guard - with strong men - in order to preserve her freedom. With her father she had had to fight for the right to have her own opinions. Unconditional love was scary. Vanni had warned her not to lose herself by remaining in another person’s shadow. She had noticed that in the intense phase of a love affair the risk of losing oneself was considerable, and was aware of her tendency to submit in relationships. And in such situations she reacted strongly, for she had witnessed her mother’s fate at the side of a strong man. During the war, when her relationship with Tapiovaara was at rock-bottom, she wrote that she could recognize within herself all the female instincts - the tendency to admire men, subordinate herself and renounce what was her own.

In her love affairs Tove lived without the sanction of wedlock demanded by the times, and she stood up relatively well to the judgement of her social surroundings. For her, marriage may have been an institution that placed too many restrictions on her freedom. Perhaps subconsciously she chose men who set great store by freedom, and thus even though she might have wanted to marry, it was a step never taken.

Great admiration limits freedom. Freedom is valued, and it is an ideal, even the most important goal, in many people’s lives. Yet in the end freedom may not always be what it seems, as Moominpappa is forced to admit of the Hattifatteners: ‘I thought they were so wonderful and free - simply because they didn’t say anything and just kept going. They had nothing to say and nowhere to go...’ The contradictions of freedom and independence, and their parallel nature, form one of the fundamental questions in Tove’s books, and the same was true of her personal life.

Motherhood is always the strongest bond, and for Tove it was the most difficult and frightening one. It, too, was contradictory: there were times when she feared getting pregnant, and times when that was what she wanted. Responsibility always limits freedom. The question of whether to have children or not was therefore a difficult one for an artist who passionately cherished freedom. A certain paradox may also be seen in the fact that a woman who had opted for childlessness became loved by millions of children.

Tove’s studio was to her a symbol of freedom; it was like Virginia Woolf’s ‘room of one’s own’, a place where a woman could create and maintain a sufficient portion of independence. It was a space she was not prepared to part with, not ever and not for anyone. It guaranteed her freedom to the maximum extent that was possible in the world. No love and no relationship would have been able to make her give up her own workplace. Ultimately, to her, work meant freedom and real existence. Only deep depression was sometimes capable of interfering with the joy that it brought.

- Tove Jansson: Work and Love by Tuula Karjalainen