#but i still wanted to mention it because it is so important to me

[napoftustar]

diphylleia grayi, the skeleton flower is a species of perennial plant in the family berberidaceae��� it is native to northern and central Japan.

known scientifically as diphylleia grayi, this rare plant grows in cool moist mountain regions‚ adding a touch of magic to the forest floor. the flower’s petals have unique cell structures that absorb water‚ allowing light to pass through and create their glass-like appearance, its petals become transparent when in contact with water and once it’s dry, the petals return to white.* and probably the reason why it’s called skeleton and not glass (although its scientific name origin actually means glass/clear flower) or transparent flower is because it’s not fully transparent and you can see the flower’s ‘veins’, you can still see its ‘skeleton’?

*“The flower has air spaces between its loosely packed cells. The air in these empty spaces reflects all the wavelengths of lights. It is this reflection that makes the flowers appear white. Now, when it rains, water replaces the air space between the cells. Water and the fluid inside the cells of the cells (the cytolymph) have the same refractive index. Thus, when light passes through the water filling the spaces and the cells, it only refracts through the liquid, without much being reflected. Without reflection, you can’t see any colors. The flower is like glass made of water.” source

and there’s also a beautiful song about this flower that i discovered while looking up for its name. i want to share some interpretations of the song because as i read, it touched my heart. lyrics translation here

“Jonghyun's entire song uses the extended metaphor of the skeleton flower to describe the relationship between external causes of grief and the internal strife they leave behind. Diphylleia grayi is a white flower that turns transparent when wet. Jonghyun likens this phenomnenon to the transformation of the outward effects of grief to an inward loneliness which cannot be seen but still remains.” source

an interpretation from a reddit entry: “I personally like this translation more: “Dear flower in front of me // With that deep scent that bewitched me // You lock me up in the room of eternity, so that I cannot find you, and simply smile your white artful smile.”

In the song, the skeleton flower represents the human experience of love and loss. When it gets drenched “in tears” it becomes invisible, meaning the regret and the pain - “of letting go knowingly” in this case - become invisible too. However, this pain and regret are still there even though we can’t see them. With time the importance of this experience changes: As his “fault” and his “regret” become invisible, the invisible skeleton flower in front of him, bewitches him with its scent and locks him in it for eternity, so that he can’t physically find this flower, which represents this particular fault and pain, ever again and he can “simply smile the flower’s white, artful smile” as time passes and things change. Basically meaning that all things pass, all things change over time, and pain becomes bearable (-> “With time, even the white petals will wither. Without remembering that they were once transparent”)”

another interpretation from another reddit entry: “Jonghyun mentioned on Blue Night that the song was inspired by the listener question that was something along the lines of, “Can you describe your feelings on life using nature?” Because of this and the lyrics, I’ve always interpreted it in a depression vein too, how sadness and emptiness can cause you not to see some of the more beautiful aspects of life - that it causes them to go invisible, dew on petals - but conversely seeing those beautiful parts of life makes it more painful when they end or are corrupted in some way, especially if it’s your own fault and inspires regret. It gives you something to cherish and then be ruined by your own hands, or others. It’s a song that, in my eyes, is a gorgeous representation of the dual-nature of vulnerability, how being open and exposed can bring joy in life but also agony, but letting those things go and becoming numb is its own hell. This is something I think everyone struggles with throughout their lives - I know I have - which is why I so frequently tear up at this song and the repetition of, “As time passes…” in the end.”

[baepsays]

ADORATION & AFFECTION ⸻ cult leader husband Geto Suguru.

cw: NSFW, husband geto, cult leader geto, established relationship, he is very charming, in a lowkey manipulative way lol, suggestive stuff :3c, pervy Suguru smh, somnophilia, dubcon, eating out, some manhandling, fem oriented reader, no pronouns mentioned, he can use that mouth for more than words, but words sure are his strong suit, anyway kind of just cute shit

Geto Suguru prioritizes his mornings spent with his wife in their bed, over everything. It is the determinant of the quality of his day. If he does not get to laze around in your arms before reluctantly waking up, it will make things harder for his followers that day. Hence they do not even try to wake him up, they leave it to you.

But it is no easy task, if he feels the slightest stir on your side of the bed in the morning, quickly grabs onto your wrists and pulls you on top of him. Holds you tightly by the waist and hips, groping and marking up your skin through the bunched up silhouette of the nightgown. 

And if with much thrashing you get half up, he's rolling over— making you lie under him, to have his body weigh you down, pressing you into the mattress. Any voice of protest is drowned by his rhythmic words and steady tone. He talks in riddles and poetry, tracing a single callous finger from your forehead, to nose, then lips and cheeks.

"Every attempt you make to get away from me, pulls you closer into me." He'd say words as such

"What are you, quicksand?"

"If anything, it is you who consumes every fiber of my sanity every living moment, darling."

A slight chuckle would leave his throat along with his finger, still tracing you like a map he has known for centuries. It goes down and down. Ending up on your collarbones, and then goes back up again, gliding on the length of your neck, to your chin—pulling your lips to his.

I suppose everything can wait.

So one has to imagine these bad habits of his—coercion and not looking beyond what he wants—results in some trouble with you at times. 

One such instance can be brought up, where he told you about a meeting which was scheduled, prior as an important one—which is not uncommon. He has to attend a plethora of meetings and gatherings to keep the people (or monkeys as he likes to call them), interested and charmed. It was not the mention of his work, you've come to understand the man you love happens to be a little cruel, that makes your brows scrunch. Which is ultimately for the betterment of everyone, of course, what he tells you.

“What do you mean? Is this some joke?” 

“Why would I be joking about this darling? It is work after all.”

“Yes, but- how long will it be?”

“As per usual, most of the day, and if it takes more time I might have to have dinner outside as well.” 

“So you really do not remember?”

“What are you referring to?”

It was the particular date that the meeting was set on, and the length of the time he was supposed to spend there. Instead of with you, on your anniversary especially. That is what pissed you off.

So when subtle hints, and constant queries of confirmation of the date, does not give him the hint. The vocalization of your anger through the silent treatment, does. Unfortunately, he's someone who reciprocates your annoyances at him absolutely right back.

You are not talking to him at the dinner table?

Good. He won't either. He won't even accept the glass of water you silently offer him when he's choking on his food. Persistent and annoying to the point it makes you leave the table.

Days pass with both of your petulant, silent, persisting fights. Making things harder for yourselves and the poor servants and followers. 

He gets an important call one day, summoning him to a meeting and he's on his feet, but has to halt at the door of your bedroom—because just as he's at the threshold, you slam the drawer of the dresser by the door really hard, still very pissed off at him. 

“Miguel! Get the car ready.” 

As soon as he yells his order, he moves haphazardly to the side where you stood, staring and observing with angry eyes, furrowed eyebrows and pouting lips. Barely giving you any time to process anything, to even get the chance to back away, he comes at you at light's speed. And so he forcefully grabbed onto your forearms, and slammed you into the nearest wall. With enough force to make you understand the little charade of yours has prickled him more than enough.

His lips are feverishly hot on yours, teeth, tongue, bites and all. Your hands grip his hair to get him off you, while simultaneously pulling him in— making his neatly tied up hair fall stray everywhere. And if one of your hands gives up and goes to grab onto the curtain beside you, for some support, one of his own hands is already creeping on your arms to snatch your hands off the curtains, and ripping the curtains off the rod in the process.

After leaving you further speechless, with every intention this time, and a little breathless; he simply walks out with his hand in his hair, smoothing out and tucking back the loose strands of hair in a half up bun. But he does not bother to wipe away the lipstick smudged all over his lips and chin.

And while in the car, he cannot help but smile to himself. Looking at his messy appearance in the reflection of the windows, if anyone has anything to say of his wife's beautiful shade of lipstick, they can deal with him first. And then worry some more about their tongue snatched out of their throat, later.

The thought alone of not being able to wait to tell you that the apparent cult meeting he told you about, scheduled on both of your anniversary, was a lie. 

And why did he lie? Well. He felt like it.

The sight of you struggling to express your absolute wrath on him, is the most adorable thing to him. You can call him sadistic, but he just likes to see his ever so patient and kind wife get absolutely stirred up by his made up stories. He cannot help but imagine how he would be tormenting you in your shared bed later when he returns tonight. How he would slide his hands up your nightgown after throwing the blankets off your sleeping figure. And he knows for a fact, despite any amount of anger, you’d sleep without your panties on. Only for him, to bury his face in between your thighs and put his tyrannizing mouth to better use. Because with his tongue down in your cunt, he is the most helpless poet of them all.

You can get angry about that as well, as usual, when you wake up. But he knows how to leave you a whining moaning puddle, just as well as he knows how to provoke you to become a screaming shouting mess.   

Do what you like, he will fuck you pliant, then sweet talk the anger right out of you.

TO FIND MORE OF MY WORKS CLICK HERE.

a/n: dividers by @/omi-resources. header from Yamada-kun to Lv999 no Koi wo Suru. honestly i would not mind writing more of him this was a very short on a whim oneshot type of deal, but i can totally see myself expanding their relationship and dynamics. he is crazy, believe me when i say he is super good at making his wife forget that. if you see any mistakes please lmk i did not bother reading it after last edit.

this has been marinating and going through edits for no reason lol. Anyway was gonna be a nanami oneshot but just suited this guy more ykkkkkk. ugh.

tag list: @cheralith @madamechrissy @gojosperms @naomigojo @cuntphoric @nanamiskentos @cuntyji @cuntphoric @aishi-toru @fushitoru @rriwyu @arcanarix @lover-lyn @buckysm @wwwritererm @indiewritesxoxo @moonchhu @shouiow @user25384959574 @dxmnsaera @kazupop @slayzzz @undercvrfan444 @miizuzu @getoistic

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 11

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lizzie barely had time to take in the Quadrant studio before a guy launched himself across the room like he was personally greeting a royal dignitary.

“Oh my god, you actually brought her,” he gushed, stopping just short of throwing himself at Mara’s paws. “Lando never lets us meet his friends—”

Lando sighed theatrically, rolling his eyes as he led Lizzie inside. "Because you're all lunatics."

The man grinned, unfazed by Lando's comment. "Yeah, but we're your lunatics.”

Max Fewtrell, already grinning, lifted his phone. “Right, formal introduction time. Lizzie, welcome to Quadrant chaos. You already know me—”

“Tragically,” Lando mumbled.

“—but this is Ethan, who thinks he runs things, Ria, who actually runs things, and Steve, the only adult in the room.”

Lizzie grinned. “Nice to finally meet you all.”

“Oh, we’re making this official,” Ria said, practically vibrating as she rummaged through a box on the table.

Lando groaned. “I already hate this.”

Ethan smirked. “Oh, you will.”

With a dramatic flourish, Ria pulled out a small fabric bundle and unfolded it.

Lizzie blinked.

It was a Quadrant dog bandana. Black with neon streaks, the brand’s logo stitched neatly in the corner.

“You made her merch?” Lizzie asked, trying to hold back a laugh.

Lando let out a long-suffering sigh. “Okay, listen. I can’t be seen walking a dog wearing Ferrari merch—”

"You could just walk her," Max chimed in.

"Shut up. Anyway.” Lando picked up the bandana. “And I highly doubt Lizzie would let me put McLaren papaya on her—”

“Not happening,” Lizzie confirmed.

“So this is a compromise.” Lando gestured at the bandana like it was the only logical solution. "I thought she’d want a little Quadrant flair too.”

There was a beat of silence as everyone seemed to process his logic.

Then, everyone started laughing. Loudly.

"Oh my god." Ethan shook his head, grinning. "Lando Norris, dog-walking fashion expert. Who would have thought?”

Max snorted. “Honestly, I get it. The internet would never let you live it down.”

Lando shot him a look. "Exactly. Have you checked Twitter lately? They already think I'm the biggest Ferrari fan in the history of ever. I don't need to give them any more ammunition."

Everyone else laughed harder. Ria was trying to catch her breath. "Oh my god, Lando, you're such a drama queen."

Steve, the supposed only adult in the room, was the only one who didn’t laugh. Instead, he studied the bandana with a considering expression. “Honestly, it is a good look. The orange would have clashed with her coat anyway.”

That set off another round of laughter, but Lando looked oddly appeased by Steve’s assessment.

Max clapped his hands together, grinning. “Right, Mara needs to try it on. Lando. Do your thing.”

Lando rolled his eyes, yet he knelt next to Mara. The Labrador seemed to realize this was important, because she sat perfectly still, her eyes trained on the bandana.

Lando wrapped the bandana around her neck, adjusting it until it fit snugly.

“There we go. She’s a Quadrant girl now,” he said, ruffling Mara’s ears.

 Lizzie crouched beside her.

“What do you think, girl?” she asked. “You like it?”

Mara gave a single wag of her tail.

“Oh, that’s a yes,” Ria confirmed, nodding sagely.

“100%,” Max agreed.

Lando stood, hands on his hips. "Of course she likes it. I have good taste."

Lizzie suppressed a smirk, trying (and failing) to hide her amusement at the ridiculous scene unfolding before her.

"And he's modest too," she joked.

Lando shot her a look, though there was no real annoyance behind it. "Hey, I'm just stating facts."

Max snickered. "Lando Norris, humble as always."

"You all just wish you were as humble as I am," Lando shot back, rolling his eyes.

Ethan gave an exaggerated sigh. "I know. It's tragic really. If only we could be as modest as the great Lando 'I'm a better driver than everyone in this room' Norris."

Lando flicked him off in response.

"So, this is where the magic is gonna happen?" Lizzie asked curiously, staring around the warehouse. "It looks..."

"Like an abandoned warehouse?" Max suggested drily. "It's for the aesthetic of the photoshoot."

"And what is that aesthetic?" Lizzie asked. "Where to dump a body?"

Lando shot her an amused glance. "Dark, edgy, abandoned industrial-chic, I think."

"Yeah, it's our 'we're really cool and don't care' vibe," Ethan chimed in.

Ria nodded. "And it's cheaper than renting out an actual studio."

"Not to mention we have the freedom to set everything up exactly the way we want," Steve added.

"You know...for the vibe," Max said, wiggling his fingers in the air.

"I think the aesthetic choice is very 'Lando','" Lizzie mused, eyeing Lando, who looked offended.

"What does that mean?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hmm..." Lizzie tapped a finger against her chin, pretending to think. "Rich, edgy, slightly obnoxious..."

"I am none of those things," Lando protested.

Lizzie stared at him. "Lando, you literally bought a Range Rover on a whim. Now you are sitting here,  in front of the dog, whose bandana you had custom designed as we debate the 'aesthetic' of your photoshoot in a warehouse."

Max snickered, while Ria and Ethan tried to hide their smiles. 

Lando huffed. "Fine, I see your point. But it's still a cool aesthetic."

"It's definitely unique," Lizzie conceded.

Max's grin widened as he turned to Mara, who had been quietly observing the entire exchange. "And what do you think, Mara? Do you think Lando has a cool aesthetic?"

The Labrador simply sat there, with her tongue lolling out, blissfully unaware of the debate about Lando's cool factor.

Lizzie smiled. "I think that's a solid 'yes' in dog language."

"Alright, alright. Enough making fun of me," Lando complained, though he didn't look particularly bothered. 

Steve, who'd been watching the whole exchange, finally spoke up.

"You know, I have to say, this is already more fun than most photoshoots."

Granted, Lizzie had managed to get through her life with literally only three photoshoots unless one counted random selfies with fans, so she tended to agree.

It was quite fun that she got to watch the whole thing go down though, shooting Lando's newest merch collection, while Mara happily took a nap on her feet. It was...interesting to see this side of him. 

Lando, as it turned out, had a knack for modeling. He effortlessly fell into different poses, morphing from nonchalant cool to charming casual without breaking a sweat. Lizzie couldn't help but admire him.

Ethan, as the photographer, seemed to be having the time of his life. He directed the shoot with enthusiasm, barking instructions like the self-proclaimed art director. "Okay, Lando, give me intense stare. Yeah, that's it. Now, throw in some smolder."

Max, playing the role of the hype man, didn't hesitate to boost up Lando's ego.  "Damn, mate. You were made for this. When are you gonna ditch racing and become a professional model?"

"Never," Lando shot back, without even pausing in his poses. "I have too much dignity for that."

"Dignity? You?" Max laughed. "That ship sailed years ago."

"Oh, shut up," Lando retorted, but he couldn't quite hide his smile.

Lizzie watched all of this with amusement, her eyes fixated on Lando as he moved in front of the camera.

He was a different person in front of the lens.

Confident, charismatic, almost...intoxicating.

It was easy to lose herself in the view, especially as his gaze frequently met hers, his smug smirk sending tingles down her spine.

God, he was handsome.

After what felt like hours, the shoot was over.

The lights were shut off, the equipment packed away, and the warehouse slowly returned from a makeshift photoshoot studio back to an abandoned warehouse.

Lando, as if waking from a trance, wandered over to Lizzie, his gaze roaming over her in a way that she could only describe as hungry.

"You’re staring," Lizzie pointed out, fighting down a shiver as his gaze continued to linger on her.

Lando gave her a lazy smile, not bothering to look away. "Can you blame me?"

Lizzie’s heart did a little flip, her cheeks warming under his gaze. She was still getting used to this — the casual intimacy between them, the easy banter, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing in the room worth seeing.

She could hear the others packing up and chattering in the background, their voices a soft, background hum. But right now, her attention was laser-focused on Lando, his eyes still holding hers captive.

"We need to get going," she said, kinda hating herself fo having to say that. "Tasha will kill me if I am late to my own reading."

Lando nodded, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from her.

“Right, right. Can’t have Tasha coming after you with a pitchfork,” he said, his tone light but his eyes still holding that intense look.

She gave him a smile, but she promised herself that tonight…tonight she was going to take advantage of that massive bed in their hotel room. 

***

"We banned all flash photography and we'll had somebody tell them to just ignore Mara multiple times," Tasha said seriously.

Lando hadn't known that Lizzies best friend slash pseudo-sister also had the role as personal assistant slash point of contact for everybody that was involved in Lizzie's actual job...but he had learned that over the last few weeks.

Lando leaned back in his seat, watching Tasha as she talked. She was a force to be reckoned with, that much was obvious. He couldn't help but respect her dedication to making sure everything ran smoothly.

And he was also very glad that Lizzie had somebody with her at all times that knew the ins and outs of her epilepsy better than anybody else.

Tasha was a godsend, both a best friend and a safety net for Lizzie.

As Tasha continued briefing them on the night's schedule, Lando let his gaze drift to Lizzie, who was listening intently to her friend.

She was an absolute star to look at as always, but there was something different about tonight. There was a spark in her eyes, a hint of excitement, and a faint smile on her lips he really liked.

Lando was not the type to sit and listen to people gushing over books for hours, but given the way Lizzie looked, he was sure he could put up with it...

He had been to his fair share of movie premieres and gallery openings, but those were easy. He took a few pictures, flashed a charming smile...he was the center of attention. 

But tonight…Lando Norris was completely ignored. Because he was uninteresting. 

Elizabeth Treshton was the star. 

Lando Norris got to sit backstage and follow along from the shadows. 

And quite frankly, he found the whole experience fascinating, just because he got to see Lizzie's world.

The world of books, of words and imagination. It was utterly foreign to him, and yet he couldn't help but find it fascinating...especially with Lizzie in the middle of it.

She was the star here. She was the one people wanted to see. The world she had created, the characters that had been born out of her words on a page...millions of people had read these words.

And they loved them.

Lando found, to his surprise, that he couldn't take his eyes off her as she walked on stage, as she read a few pages, as the hall clapped, and as she answered the first few questions. It wasn't even about the words anymore, it was about the way she talked, about the way her eyes shined. About the way she was fully in her element.

He wasn't looking at a different woman...but he was looking at a facet of hers...that he hadn't yet gotten to completely see.

And he found himself wondering how many there were. How many layers he still had to uncover, how many things he still needed to discover.

He was a race car driver, speed and competition were his domain. He was living the life he'd always wanted.

But sitting here in this venue, watching Lizzie take the stage and make an audience of strangers hang onto her every word like the last light in a dark cave...he knew he was only scratching the surface here.

The rest of the reading, the Q&A and the signing went by in a bit of a blur. He was too busy watching Lizzie and the way her face lit up when fans came up to her and told her how her writing had moved or inspired them. And when she was finally finished, making her way towards him with a tired smile on her face, he couldn't help but reach out and grab her by the hand to pull her closer.

Her steps faltered for a second as he pulled her closer, but when she looked at him, her expression melted into a soft, tired smile. "You held out pretty well," she teased lightly.

Lando shrugged nonchalantly, his grip on her hand tightening. "I had a pretty good view to keep me entertained," he replied, his gaze drifting over her face with an intensity that belied his casual tone.

"Oh? And what exactly was so entertaining about the view?" Lizzie asked, amusement sparkling in her eyes despite her obvious tiredness.

Lando's smile widened into a lazy smirk. "Just taking in the show, Miss Treshton," he said, his thumb tracing circles against her wrist. "You were quite the spectacle up there."

Lizzie arched an eyebrow. "Spectacle, huh? Are you just trying to butter me up, Mr. Norris?"

"You are incredible, you know that?" he told her seriously.

She stared at him wide-eyed.

"And not just tonight," he continued, unable to keep the admiration out of his voice. "You've built a whole world with your words, Lizzie. And you've got millions of people wrapped around your little finger, myself included.”

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

father. l Joel Miller

Summary: life decided to surprise you

Warnings: angst, sad, some fluff, anger, crying, worries, vomiting ; Ellie appears there, mention of pregnancy

A/N: ok so, i've been planning this for a while now, i hope you'll take this chapter well and have mercy on me. i'm waiting for your opinions. thank you

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

It was still early, the sun had only recently begun to slowly break through the curtains of your bedroom. The silence in the room was broken only by your steady breathing as you curled up in a deep sleep, unaware that Joel was no longer asleep.

He rested his head on his hand and watched you closely. The strands of your hair spilling over the pillow, he saw how your chest rose with your gentle breath, noticed the delicate movements of your body and felt your warmth.

God, he loved you so much, and at the same time he had been feeling a strange fear. It all started almost two weeks ago when he made himself some coffee in the morning, and after entering the kitchen you immediately ran to the bathroom.

"It must be yesterday's stew." You mumbled when your stomach had already calmed down, and Joel insisted that you should stay at home that day.

However, the situation repeated itself several times. Joel was on patrol at the time, but Ellie told him about it, warning him that you forbade her to tell anyone about it, especially Joel.

"It could be something serious." she mumbled, clearly concerned that she was breaking her promise to you. "I don't want anything to happen to her."

It worried him, and even more so because you pretended that there was no problem. Joel wasn't stupid, so he let every thought come to his mind, even the one that scared him the most.

"When was the last time you bled?"

You looked at him in surprise, fluffing the pillow. "What kind of question is that?"

He picked up the sheets from the ground that were supposed to go to the wash and shrugged. "I just wondered. Didn't you think that maybe..."

He noticed how you frowned and tensed up. Apparently you didn't let that thought get to you, but Joel did. He had been a father before, he knew perfectly well how pregnancy went and was a good observer.

"Maybe what?" you asked quietly.

"I think you might be pregnant." he finally said and you chuckled.

"Please." you snorted, "That's impossible."

"Why?" He put the sheets on the bed and rested his arms on his hips. "You're nauseous, more sleepy, your breasts...are bigger. Baby, have you considered that you could..."

"No!" you interrupted him firmly "I know pulling out isn't the best method of contraception, but we're careful." Joel raised his eyebrows and you groaned "Why do you even have to bring this up?" you sat down on the bed, burying your face in your hands.

"Sweetheart, I know it's hard..." he said, coming over and sitting next to you, he stroked your back slowly "But... I remember what it looked like, and now I see it on you. We should check it out and..."

"No!" you interrupted him abruptly and stood up unexpectedly "I'm not pregnant. It's just some stupid virus or something. I'm tired and that's all."

The tears that appeared in your eyes hurt him. The thought of pregnancy, of a child, was painful for him, but then he realized what you could feel. You knew about Sarah and that he had lost her. You had to find out since her name was in Tommy's house. However, you never talked about it, you never asked him about that life. And now...

You must have been terrified and you didn't allow yourself to think about this possibility at all.

The next few days passed by avoiding the topic. Joel knew that you were vomiting, although you tried to hide it. He saw how you were fighting sleep. You were so incredibly stubborn not to admit to yourself what he was trying to tell you. So he had to take matters into his own hands.

You slowly opened your eyes and stretched. You didn't even have time to greet him when three pregnancy tests appeared before your eyes.

"I got them on the last patrol." Joel announced "Please, just do it. If it's a virus, I'll leave you alone. I want to make sure you're safe."

You wanted to rebel, you wanted to talk him out of this stupid idea, but you gave in. It made no sense. So you disappeared into the bathroom for the longest five minutes of your lives.

Joel knew he'd never forget the look on your face when you opened the door. Your eyes were wide, and your face was filled with terror and shock. He'd barely taken the test from your hand when you'd slumped to the floor, tears streaming down your face.

All three were positive.

It was like a punch in the gut. He'd guessed that might be the case, but the reality had overwhelmed him.

"I can't, I can't, Joel..." you repeated as he stared at the result, unable to gather his thoughts, "God, what have I done!"

"Honey, it's not just you..." he said sitting down next to you and taking you in his arms, but nothing reached you.

No words from him, no comforting. You cried until you got tired and fell asleep again.

"A baby? You're having a baby?" Tommy looked at Joel in surprise "Wow! I mean... That's great, right?"

It was late. Jackson was shrouded in darkness when Joel appeared on his brother's porch. Despite the invitation, he didn't go inside, he was too shaken to even sit down.

Now that he had confessed to his brother what you had found out that morning, he felt the reality starting to creep in.

"I'm too old for this." he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief "I can't believe that.. Shit! Do you know what I put her through? I was stupid to think that I could have a normal life, that we could pretend that..."

"Fuck, Joel!" Tommy hissed, looking at him angrily "What are you talking about?! You love her!"

"So what?!" he snapped "That won't save her and...the baby."

He was furious. He clenched his hands on the porch railing, not even knowing what he expected. The strong need to throw it all away made Joel go to his brother, but he didn't support him. No, he told him that what he was so afraid of was wonderful.

"Would you marry her if the world was different?"

The question surprised him. He looked at Tommy, confused.

"It's a simple question." Tommy leaned back next to him and folded his arms over his chest. "Would you marry her? Would you like to have this child then?"

He slowly nodded.

"You think you don't deserve a normal life, but that's not true. You have the right to be happy, and she gives it to you. I'm sure she's scared too..."

"She's been crying nonstop since this morning, she hasn't eaten much…" Joel replied. "I'm scared, you know. I don't want to lose her… Her and the baby."

"When Maria was pregnant I was scared too. But we have a really good doctor in Jackson. We have the equipment."

Joel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt like Tommy had lifted some of the burden off his shoulders and filled his heart with a little hope.

"Please don't tell anyone in Jackson." he said finally. "Let's keep this between us for now."

"Sure." Tommy patted him on the back. "Of course, she won't be going on patrols anymore. I'll find someone else to take her place."

"Thanks."

It was earlier when he went down to the kitchen and noticed with surprise that Ellie was preparing tea and breakfast. She bustled around without a word and put everything on a tray as if she wanted to take it somewhere.

"What are you doing?" Joel asked, and the girl almost jumped.

"What does it look like?" she snapped. "I'm making her breakfast. She hasn't eaten since yesterday. I don't know what's wrong with her, but if she keeps this up, she'll spit her stomach out. Maybe she should see a doctor, eh?"

"The doctor probably won't help her now." Joel snapped, pouring himself some coffee.

Ellie put the pan in the sink and looked at him in surprise. "What do you mean?" she asked "Don't tell me she's pregnant or something."

Joel swallowed a sip of coffee, but didn't answer. He also didn't see Ellie's eyes widen with excitement.

"Oh, fuck!" she screamed excitedly and immediately fell silent, scolded by Joel's look. "Really?! Shit, dude! I thought you knew how this would end, but you're so crazy about her that I'm not surprised. A baby…"

She took the tray in her hands, but immediately put it down as if something had occurred to her.

"That's why she's crying so much," she said worriedly, "I saw her eyes. She hasn't left the room since yesterday."

"She's..." Joel didn't know how to put it all into words, it was so surreal, "It caught us off guard. We don't know how to deal with it yet."

"What do you mean?" Ellie grimaced, "You love each other, you're going to have a baby. It's pretty simple."

He raised a hand to stop the girl, because her stream of thoughts was slowly overwhelming him. "It's not that simple, Ellie. Bringing a child into this world is risky."

The girl shrugged. "But you're his father, right? You'll keep her and the little one safe. This kid really hit the jackpot. I know what I'm talking about! I don't know my father or mom, but you two are doing a really good job."

It was late when Joel took you to the clinic two days later. The streets of Jackson were dark, and Dr. Morris opened the door for you without unnecessary remarks. You didn't want anyone to see you, you didn't want anyone to know.

Even though you weren't crying anymore, everything still seemed unrealistic to you. At first you denied the thought of pregnancy, then you blamed yourself, and none of Joel's words could change that. Even though it was hard for him, he finally accepted it. You would have a child, he would be a father again.

Maybe Tommy was right? Maybe he had a chance for a little happiness in his life? He had Ellie, who was like a daughter to him. And he had you. And you were everything. With you, he felt as if you took his heart in your hands and took care of it. He couldn't imagine any other life than with you. What if the world looked different? Yes, Tommy was right. He wouldn't hesitate. Even though Joel had already been burned once, and even though his heart was broken, with you he wanted to try again.

"This might feel a little uncomfortable." Doctor Morris said as you settled down and pulled your shirt up, the cool gel covering your lower abdomen. "Don't worry. It'll take a moment."

You nodded. Your hand nervously gripped the edge of the couch, but Joel noticed and took it in his. He was sitting right next to you, and now he kissed your hand and stared at the screen.

"Okay." The doctor pressed a few switches and ran the probe over your skin. "We've got everything here... Give me a second. Oh, yes! Here it is."

He pointed to something small inside your uterus. "It's still tiny. This could be week five or six."

You started counting quickly in your head. It had to have happened before Shane's wedding. Maybe when you came back from one of the dances? Maybe when Ellie was staying over at a friend's and you and Joel finally had the house to yourselves? You looked at him and saw that the same thoughts were swirling in his head.

And then the doctor pressed something and you heard a strange sound. A steady, regular, clattering sound.

"The heart is beating strongly." Morris smiled "It should come in mid-winter, I think. Everything looks fine now."

It was only when you both left the clinic and the door closed behind you, only when the cold wind swept your face, that you felt that it was all real.

Joel placed a hesitant hand on the lower part of your back "How do you feel?" he asked.

"I have no idea, really." you replied "It's... It's overwhelming and it's so hard for me to believe it."

"Me too. I didn't think I'd ever face something like this again, but with you... With you I could do it."

You looked at him, you knew that it must have been hard for Joel too. Neither of you planned this, you didn't even talk about it.

"Do you want this baby?" you asked quietly.

He was silent for a moment, but finally those brown eyes that you loved so much looked at you and you knew. "I would like to have everything with you. No matter what you decide, I will always be by your side, baby. We will handle it."

"I know..." you smiled slightly and reached for his hand.

For the first time, he touched your belly with the thought that your child was inside. Safe and sound, not knowing how scared his parents were. But Joel felt it, he felt that warm feeling again that slowly filled his heart and gave him hope.

He could have everything again. With you.

"I'm so fucking scared." you whispered.

"Yeah, baby. Me too."

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again @callmebyyournick-name

[wisteria-lodge]

Now the last thing I want is to start beef on the internet about Snape, although I suppose that would be very 2005 of me. I like Snape. I like Snape, a lot. I just finished a 160K fanfiction where he's the only viewpoint character, I would hope I'd like him. But I'm kind of interested to see what you'd have to say to my counterpoint to your rebuttal.

You give me a couple examples of funny Snape moments from the first few books. He's absolutely funny the whole way through, I talked about how that was the *fun* of 1-3 Snape. I will say that the later books will have Snape being dry and funny-on-purpose, in a way that 1-3 really don't. Like book 3 will have a moment like:

“Fascinating,” said Snape, without looking at it.

where the humor is in the framing. but later books will constantly have him him make (dry, dark, sarcastic) on-purpose jokes.

"He'd have me!" said Bellatrix passionately. "I, who spent many years in Azkaban for him!" "Yes, indeed, most admirable," said Snape in a bored voice. "Of course, you weren't a lot of use to him in prison, but the gesture was undoubtedly fine —"

“I have already told you,” said Snape smoothly, “that I have no further stocks of Veritaserum. Unless you wish to poison Potter —and I assure you I would have the greatest sympathy with you if you did — I cannot help you.

"Crabbe, loosen your hold a little, if Longbottom suffocates it will mean a lot of tedious paperwork, and I am afraid I shall have to mention it on your reference if ever you apply for a job.”

"Yes, it is easy to see that nearly six years of magical education have not been wasted on you, Potter. Ghosts are transparent."

“You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?” Professor Umbridge asked Snape. “Yes,” said Snape quietly. “But you were unsuccessful?” Snape’s lip curled. “Obviously.”

(... and loads more. Actually it would be really fun to do a deep-dive into how Snape uses humor. The "no part of your body is allowed in Hogsmeade" - that is from book 1-3, and I think it is an on-purpose joke. But is it the only one?)

You also bring up that he brews Wolfsbane, and that's fair. "Not very many wizards are up to brewing it." But I'd say there's still a difference between 'potion teacher able to brew a difficult potion' and 'prodigy savant correcting the textbook so much that the margins look black, and inventing his own spells.' You could have set that up if you wanted, probably in the context of Harry thinking it's unfair that in Snape's class there's nothing but miles of note-taking while he's got a textbook in every other class, which would then be a set-up for when *Slughorn* starts using a textbook. I mean Book 6 is *named* after Snape's potion textbook, I don't think some set-up would be out of the question.

(My main analytical angle to approaching the books is always trying to figure out - what do I think JKR intended, vs what made it onto the page, vs what the fan interpretations are, and why they exist.)

The point that he gets Book 3 levels of emotional in Book 6, after the Worst Memory and killing Dumbledore - that is fair. He totally does, positioning Snape as guy who feels very intensely, which is cool. I think you make a very important point that Snape losing control in Book 6 is framed as *scary.* It certainly is. Which make it very different from Book 3, where it is absolutely framed as funny. A threatening character, defanged. Similar behavior, treated differently by the overall text, which is kinda my thesis here.

I do disagree that the later books push silly school stuff to the side. I think there's actually *more,* because the books are longer, and JKR really seems to like writing... quidditch team shenanigans, Hermione's ill-fated house elf-campaign, the Cormac subplot, the Lavender subplot, Harry's terrible date, the kids becoming prefects and reacting in different ways, like that's good stuff. A lot of that stuff even involves Snape, because he is a funny character - like the example I used up top of him finding ways to sabotage the Gryffindor Quidditch team like spam-booking the pitch. We are even still getting on-the-page scenes that take place during his class. It's just the narrative framing that changes, lots of little tweaks to make him less unreasonable, and less of a bully.

And the main difference between a plot twist and a ret-con is that plot twists are set up. I don't have a problem with either, but that's how it is. Like JKR is good at writing mysteries. If she wanted to, she could have dropped in a detail about James Potter early on that in retrospect seems a little iffy, but doesn't bother you at the time. She does that masterfully with Moody/Barty. If she wanted to set up the twist that Snape was actually extremely brilliant, heck I wrote the thing about making him dislike the textbook, that would have worked just fine.

Also the 'Snape stays out of a sense of duty thing' - I said that books 1-3 seem to give him a different motive for staying (wants the DADA job, which wasn't written as cursed at that point) and that motive changes in Book 4. In Book 1, Snape protecting Harry is presented as repaying a debt he feels he owes to James... which is strange in itself, when the later books are taken into context. But that's why my point is that Severus and James were both developed over the course of the books, and that development necessitated some ret-cons and clever re-framing.

And my last thing, about a sad backstory explaining vs excusing bad behavior, and what the difference is there exactly? You might have read that a million times, but I haven't. I read though your backlog of original posts trying to find the one you were referring to, and couldn't. So maybe link it, if it's around?

Since you’ve talked about Molly and Draco, can you talk about Snape as well? When you said that there was a disconnect with Snape’s character I honestly wasn’t sure if you meant the audience was supposed to like him more or less than they actually do.

This is a complicated one, because Book 1-3 Snape and Book 5-7 Snape are written so differently that I actually want to talk about them as two separate characters. 

Book 1-3 Snape… kind of sucks. Maybe he sucks in a way you find funny (which I completely get. A lot of comedy - especially British comedy - revolves around finding the humor in really *mean* people. Snape is *written* to be funny in a dry, acerbic, Roald Dahl kind of way.) But maybe Snape sucks in a way that’s not fun for you, he’s just upsetting and cruel. Either way, he’s petty, unfair, a bully, completely unreasonable, and doesn’t really appear to have any redeeming qualities. Snape protects Harry in Book 1 only because James Potter saved his life and, according to Dumbledore:  

“Professor Snape couldn’t bear being in your father’s debt. . . . I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father’s memory in peace. . . .” 

Later on, Snape’s motivation will become “Protect Harry because you couldn’t protect Lily.” But there’s no hint of that here.

I actually think it’s very likely that ‘Snape was in love with Lily’ is a plotline added during Book 4, because 1-3 Snape’s motivation is so completely focused on JAMES. He hates Harry because he looks like James, he hates James because (according to Lupin) he’s “jealous, I think, of James’s talent on the Quidditch field.” Within the context of the series it’s easy to say that Lupin is lying, and with good reason… but in the context of the first three books, I think that’s just meant to be true? Snape, as we know, is a stealth quidditch hooligan the way McGonagall is. Also… James’ characterization shifts around. He’s not a bully in the first three books, he’s Head Boy… and that Head Boy thing doesn’t quite gel with what we hear from Sirius later: 

“No one would have made me a prefect, I spent too much time in detention with James. Lupin was the good boy, he got the badge.”

(I know JKR plans things out in advance, but she absolutely does change things on the fly. Arthur Weasley not getting killed by Nagini is an easy example that we definitely know about. And come on - the entire last book is a Deathly Hallows fetch-quest. Was there really no way to slip in a reference to Beedle the Bard - or a super-powerful semi-mythical wand - anywhere in the first six books?) 

So, in books 1-3, there's no hint that Snape is a potion prodigy, particularly powerful, or even particularly clever. He wrote a logic puzzle and “knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts.” But that’s it. “Potion Master” isn’t an advanced rank, it’s just the posh British boarding school way of saying “teacher.” (Like headmaster = head teacher.) Early Snape is also a lot more *emotional* than he is later on, when his ability to “Master yourself!... control your anger, discipline your mind!” becomes extremely plot relevant. Like, can you picture 5-7 Snape (or Alan Rickman, who plays a distinctly later-books Snape) doing any of this? 

Snape was beside himself. “OUT WITH IT, POTTER!” he bellowed. “WHAT DID YOU DO?”  “Professor Snape!” shrieked Madam Pomfrey. “Control yourself!”  “See here, Snape, be reasonable,” said Fudge. “This door’s been locked, we just saw —”  “THEY HELPED HIM ESCAPE, I KNOW IT!” Snape howled, pointing at Harry and Hermione. His face was twisted; spit was flying from his mouth.  “Calm down, man!” Fudge barked. “You’re talking nonsense!”  “YOU DON’T KNOW POTTER!” shrieked Snape. “HE DID IT, I KNOW HE DID IT —”

In Movie 3, Snape gets a cool protective moment where he shoves the kids behind him during the werewolf attack. In Book 3, Snape is unconscious during the entire werewolf attack because Harry, Ron and Hermione simultaneously decide he’s too dangerous, and too much of a liability to keep around. Here are are some bangers from Book 3 Snape: 

- “Don’t ask me to fathom the way a werewolf’s mind works.”   - “KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!” Snape shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. “DON’T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!” - “Up to the castle?... I don’t think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They’ll be very pleased to see you, Black . . . pleased enough to give you a little Kiss, I daresay. . . .”  - “I’ll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the dementors will have a Kiss for him too —”

If you sort of squint you can maybe say - okay, maybe this is a PTSD response. Like I’m writing a Snape POV fic right now, you can make it work. But it’s not work the books do for you, and it’s not the characterization choice they make in the films. 

BUT. Snape goes through a little bit of a revamp/retcon in Book 4. It’s totally deliberate - he’s Book 1-3 Snape at the beginning, then he basically vanishes from the narrative… the reader kind of forgets about him…  until it comes up during Karkaroff’s trial that Dumbledore ABSOLUTELY trusts him, even though he was a Death Eater. So now when Snape turns up at the climax - he’s a figure of intrigue, and it makes sense that he’s one of the two people Dumbledore brings with him to deal with Barty. Honestly, it’s a pretty cool magic trick. We buy it when - instead of hissing and spitting and hopping around like he does when he confronts Fudge at the end of Book 3 - Book 4 Snape deals with Fudge like this: 

Snape strode forward… pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He stuck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled.  “There,” said Snape harshly. “There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. (...) This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff’s too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord’s vengeance.”

Calm, collected, focused. This is a character who you’re supposed to take seriously, a character who you are supposed to respect. 

I think it’s very interesting that after Book 4, we don’t see Snape *bully* the students during class again. He’s strict, and he’s a hard grader, and Harry still thinks he’s unfair, but like… the narrative framing is on his side now. 

“Tell me, Potter,” said Snape softly, “can you read?”  Draco Malfoy laughed.  “Yes, I can,” said Harry, his fingers clenched tightly around his wand.  “Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter.”  Harry squinted at the blackboard(… ) His heart sank. He had not added syrup of hellebore, but had proceeded straight to the fourth line of the instructions after allowing his potion to simmer for seven minutes.  “Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?” “No,” said Harry very quietly.  “I beg your pardon?” “No,” said Harry, more loudly. “I forgot the hellebore...”  “I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesco.” The contents of Harry’s potion vanished; he was left standing foolishly beside an empty cauldron. “Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name, and bring it up to my desk for testing.” (...)  “That was really unfair,” said Hermione consolingly, sitting down next to Harry  (...) “Yeah, well,” said Harry, glowering at his plate, “since when has Snape ever been fair to me?”

Like he isn’t nice, but he also isn’t asking Harry questions he can’t possibly know the answers to, threatening to kill someone’s pet, or calling Hermione ugly. He didn’t even take away house points. And - during the next lesson, we are told that the approach Snape took with Harry actually worked?

Determined not to give Snape an excuse to fail him this lesson, Harry read and reread every line of the instructions on the blackboard at least three times before acting on them. His Strengthening Solution was not precisely the clear turquoise shade of Hermione’s but it was at least blue rather than pink, like Neville’s, and he delivered a flask of it to Snape’s desk at the end of the lesson with a feeling of mingled defiance and relief. 

I want to do one more close read, on a excerpt from Book 5: 

Harry realized how much Professor McGonagall cared about beating Slytherin when she abstained from giving them homework in the week leading up to the match. (...)  Nobody could quite believe their ears until she looked directly at Harry and Ron and said grimly, “I’ve become accustomed to seeing the Quidditch Cup in my study, boys, and I really don’t want to have to hand it over to Professor Snape, so use the extra time to practice, won’t you?” Snape was no less obviously partisan: He had booked the Quidditch pitch for Slytherin practice so often that the Gryffindors had difficulty getting on it to play. He was also turning a deaf ear to the many reports of Slytherin attempts to hex Gryffindor players in the corridors. When Alicia Spinnet turned up in the hospital wing with her eyebrows growing so thick and fast that they obscured her vision and obstructed her mouth, Snape insisted that she must have attempted a Hair-Thickening Charm on herself and refused to listen to the fourteen eyewitnesses who insisted that they had seen the Slytherin Keeper, Miles Bletchley, hit her from behind with a jinx.

This has a very similar structure to the sequence when Snape refuses to punish Draco for enlarging Hermione’s teeth. Slytherins and Gryffindors having an altercation, Gryffindor girl gets caught in the crossfire. BUT a few key things have been changed. One - the section is told in second-hand narration, which makes it less emotional than the teeth-scene. Two - the section begins with comparing Snape to McGonagall: she’s being biased/helping out her students too, so it’s only fair if he does it as well. Three - his insult isn’t “Your face has always looked like that,” it’s “You must have messed up a spell,” which is a lot less personal, and a lot less mean. (If anything, Snape is subtly insulting her for casting a cosmetic charm/being too girly… and being a girly-girl is an inherently suspect characteristic in JKR’s world.) Everything about this passage is set up to create a “Snape the Bully” moment… that kind of excuses Snape. 

So, what do we have? There are the people that think Book 1-3 Snape just went too far, and you can soften the narrative framing around him, and you can add in as many tragic backstories as you want, and it doesn’t really matter. THAT is definitely not what JKR wants you to think. She wants to bring you along for the ride, and (as you can tell from the framing) she's started to like Snape a lot.

HOWEVER. I do not think that the fan who likes 5-7 Alan Rickman Snape is… quite seeing the same thing she is. I get the sense that in the text, Snape’s tragic backstory is not meant to *explain* his bad behavior so much as it is meant to *excuse* it. He stays mean and bad-tempered… but he’s allowed to be, both because he is always acting in service to a Good Cause, and because he was abused at home, bullied at school, etc. A big part of why I think JKR likes writing Snape so much (and why she’s so protective of him) is because she finds something cathartic in letting a character be nasty… but for it to be allowed because they’ve suffered, and also because they're in the right. Sadly I think this describes a lot of her current online interactions. 

JKR also loves the idea of *pining.* (It is crazy how long the main characters’ pining/longing/will-they-won’t-they thing in the Cormoran Strike books has lasted.) It’s a very safe kind of romance, and (again, sadly) you can tell from her writing that romance is not generally something that feels safe to her. Snape is sometimes characterized by those who dislike the character as an incel-type who wants to possess Lily, and I just don’t think that’s in the text. If anything it’s the other way around. Snape has some unconsummated, medieval courtly love thing going on, where he has decided to live his life in Lily’s service. 

I wrote about why I think Draco Malfoy (unintentionally) appeals to fans. With Snape…  I actually think a lot of his current (unintentional) appeal comes from the way a softer Snape reframes the narrative into something more complex, and especially the way it reframes Dumbledore. Manipulative/Morally Grey Dumbledore is a *very* popular fan interpretation, and the way you get that is with a sympathetic Severus Snape. 

“You disgust me,” said Dumbledore, and Harry had never heard so much contempt in his voice. Snape seemed to shrink a little. (...)  “Hide them all, then,” he croaked. “Keep her — them — safe. Please.”  “And what will you give me in return, Severus?”  “In — in return?” Snape gaped at Dumbledore, and Harry expected him to protest, but after a long moment he said, “Anything.”

The implications here are really far reaching. Because to me, the main question when it comes to Snape is - why does he STAY at Hogwarts? He clearly hates it, why doesn’t he just leave? If you’re talking about 1-3 Snape, it's because he’s eternally holding out for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, and he’s just kind of a twisted miserable guy who would probably be equally miserable everywhere. 

But books 5-7 add the context that he’s brilliant, he’s brave, he’s principled, he’s got a sense of humor. He seems close with the Malfoys. He has *options.* So now the (unintended?) implication is… he doesn’t leave because Dumbledore won’t let him. The fact that he keeps applying for the DADA job becomes dark and borderline suicidal when we learn it’s cursed, and that Snape knows it’s cursed. If he takes it, he’ll leave (or die) at the end of the year. That means, every year, he’s tacitly asking Dumbledore “Can I leave?” And Dumbledore is answering “No.” 

That’s such an interesting, juicy character dynamic. Snape is being kept miserable on purpose because… he’s easier to control that way? And if that’s true… then oh boy is it sinister that Dumbledore left Harry with the Dursleys. He knew he was raising Harry “like a pig for slaughter” (as Snape puts it.) And if Harry doesn’t have a support system, if he’s miserable, if Dumbledore can swoop in as his savior… then doesn’t that make him so much easier to control? 

[flufftober]

🍀🍂 Hello and welcome to Flufftober's (first) Fluff Bingo 🍀🍂

In our poll, nearly 50% of you voted for a handful of bingo cards to fill the other half of the year with more fluff before we jump right back into the excitement that is Flufftober - and of course, we're here to deliver 😊

Find all the important info, more cards, and all the prompts in writing below the cut.

We hope you like this event and our prompts, and now

Happy Creating 🥳

🍀 Pick your card - we offer:

🍂 one card with 5x5 prompts (as seen at the top)

🍂 two cards with 3x3 prompts:

🍂 three themed cards with 1x5 prompts:

🍂 and as a bonus, a 3x3 card with tasks instead of prompts:

🍀 How does this work?

🍂 our standard blog rules apply and you'll find answers to most questions on our FAQ post

🍂 aside from that, you can go wild: fill these cards however you like, as quick or as slow as you like, as often as you like, and use as many of them as you like. We just want you to have fun 😊

🍂 if there are prompts on the bigger cards you don't like, feel free to use the 1x5 cards as alternate prompts and switch them out

🍂 download the cards and tick them off once you've finished a square; make a post for every square or only once you have a bingo or even a blackout - it's all up to you!

🍂 as with all our events, this one will never close, you can always use these cards. If you need a timeframe/deadline because (like me) you'll never finish otherwise, consider these loose goals:

finish until July 1st when we release the new Flufftober list

finish during October, maybe by combining some of these with the Flufftober prompts

finish until the end of the year so you're ready for whatever event we plan for next spring

🍀 What about tumblr reblogs and ao3?

🍂 tumblr reblogs will still happen but not daily as you're used to during Flufftober. It will strongly depend on how many posts there happen to be at a time and how the modmin team will have time. But as long as you mention us and/or use the tag (and follow the rules, obviously), reblogs will happen

🍂 please use the tag #fluffbingo

🍂 feel free to also add the general #flufftober tag

🍂 please make sure to clearly show the fandom, either in the first few tags or noticeably in the post

🍂 contrary to how we do it during Flufftober, we will only use four tags during reblogs this time: #fluffbingo #fluffreblog #[fandom] #[your user name] - that means we will not tag any ships, characters, or which prompt you're covering

🍂 on ao3, our collection for this event is Flufftober Fluff Bingo

Prompts

We're going left to right, top to bottom!

🍂 5x5 card

Fresh Start

To-Do List

Craft Fair

Creature AU

“This was a bad idea.”

Exploring Together

Plushie

Secret Signal

“You’ll love it.”

Late Night

Hidden (...)

“It’s just so much.”

Free Space

Fake Dating

Carnival

“You’re the best!”

Royal AU

Missing the Other

Never ever, ever

Rainbow

Hanahaki

Pep Talk

“I really mean it.”

Hoodie

Movie AU

🍂 3x3 card I

“Where do I start?”

Famous AU

Traveling the World Together

Enjoying a Lazy Day

Task: Write in a tense you usually don’t write/write less than another tense

“You said you had it handled!” - “Yeah, well, I lied.”

Birthday

“Hey, wait, that’s mine.”

Direction

🍂 3x3 card II

“You’re late!”

Hospital AU

Grocery Shopping Together

Going for a Walk

Task: Write from a POV you usually don’t write/write less than another POV

“Could you not do that, please?” - “Spoilsport.”

Sunshine

“I don’t know, you decide.”

Concert

🍂 1x5 card - Smiles

Secret Smile

Relieved Smile

Honest Smile

Devious Smile

Teary Smile

🍂 1x5 card - Hugs

Soothing Hug

Hug in Celebration

Sleepy Hug

Hug from behind

Desperate Hug

🍂 1x5 card - Kisses

Kiss on the Hand

Kiss to distract

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[cripplecharacters]

I have this mage character who's disabled with limited mobility (I'm planning for her to have severe ataxia, but the exact disability I give her might still change). I have a couple questions/thoughts about how I should portray her. It's a medieval fantasy setting.

She's… not very morally good. She's currently with a group of bandits (AKA: she robs people). She hasn't got some "I want to kill people because the disability makes me miserable" thing going on though, and most of the other bandits are abled, so her being evil/morally grey is not unique to her. Also, if I ever end up actually writing the story, it would be from her perspective. Does this make it ok, or does it fall under the "disabled villain" trope?

Mobility aids? She would definitely need one, probably a wheelchair, since she can't walk unassisted at all. The thing is, her family is a bunch of ableists who kept her in her room all day because they found her disability "shameful", so she doesn't have a mobility aid (except maybe a clunky wheelchair that needs to be pushed around by someone else). And she definitely isn't going to have a mobility aid around when she gets semi-kidnapped by the bandits (as mentioned before, she ends up joining them). When they're actively robbing people, she'd ride a horse, but what about when they're in the bandit hideout? Making a wheelchair seems hard and time-consuming. I could make her magic powers be telekinesis or (short-distance) teleportation, but that might also be erasure and I don't want that. Any suggestions?

Hi asker,

For the first half of your ask, that sounds perfectly fine, because disabled people don't have to be morally perfect! Especially if the story is written from her perspective, it's actually pretty important that she's not just a 0 flaws character. It's perfectly fine that she's morally grey, an anti-hero, whatever, as long as she isn't the only one that is these things as a disabled person.

The "disabled villain" trope is more like, the disability is what makes them evil, or they're the only disabled character and they're evil, basically equating disability to moral failure and to villainy. Other bandits being of similar morality to her but abled is a huge deal in terms of sidestepping the disabled villain trope. As long as she's not the 'most evil' in her bandit group and the only or the most disabled one, this works just fine.

For the second half of your ask:

If the bandits let her join after kidnapping her, they presumably want her there. This means that they would probably willing to help her get or do things that she needs to do in order to continue to be there with them, and that can include them helping source a wheelchair or a walker or a rollator. Maybe they make it themselves, maybe they steal one, maybe they kidnap someone who can make it for her, maybe something else. But if they're something like her friends or found family, they'd probably want her to participate in things, and they could help her get what she needs to do so.

As to the powers, they could be erasure. They don't have to be erasure, but they could be. But to be honest you don't necessarily seem attached to those as her powers, so you could choose something else instead.

As to ataxia, since you mention not being fully decided on this yet, make sure you research how ataxia, particularly severe ataxia, would affect her. I don't say this to say she wouldn't be able to ride a horse — paralympic athlete Mari Durward-Akhurst has ataxia and participtes in paralympic — but I mean that you'd want to look at what she needs to do that and how it affects her daily.

As to mobility aids (sorry for saying as to so much), many people with ataxia use wheelchairs or walkers or rollators. Rollators are wheeled walkers, basically. If she'd be able to use one of these in the hideout definitely depends on the hideout's layout and access. But maybe they could have a hideout with ramps, or on a single level or something, as opposed to like... a treehouse hideout. But magic exists in your world, so maybe her aid could have some sort of enchantment. Like, maybe the aid itself can do very limited teleportation and this gets her into the door, for example? That could be a pretty cool and useful enchantment to put on a wheelchair. But mostly, since you have magic, you have more leeway than in real life as to what the limits of mobility aids are within a space. Or even within a space itself; maybe the entrance steps have a button that can turn them into a ramp. Things like that!

Hope this helps,

mod sparrow

[ficsinhistory]

Yes, I saw that scene! I don't blame Maddie, it's a very sweet gesture, I would fall for it. Not only that, judging by the way Tom reacted, he has his share of times he did this to calm Maddie down. Not many, but hey, like father like son. I really want to see more of these two and Maddie in particular.

And yes, Amy would definitely be delighted with grand romantic gestures, she's a hopeless romantic lol

And your thoughts on Amy? Immaculate op. Your mind is incredible!

I also believe Amy's history with the Metal Army is probably old and very personal. I theorize that Ivo stole one of her quills too in an invasion of her home - Little Planet - which would lead her to always approach problems thinking of the worst-case scenario. What would explain why the energy of the metal blow would be both blue and pink.

And yes, I see Amy even with all her empathy, altruism and kindness...being terrible at working in a team. Although I ser her not knowing how to work in a group is more like Amy being incredibly controlling and restrictive, a symptom of her desperately trying to keep the circumstances under control and not getting worse. Something that someone as chaotic and freedom-loving as Sonic wouldn't like.

And I begging this will be the situation.

Amy and Sonic have disagreed several times, from the oldest games to Frontiers. Amy is temperamental and has a strong personality and Sonic hates being ordered around. There will be a lot of friction and both jeopardizing each other's plans before a balance is established.

Perfect opportunity for Sonic to finally feel first-hand what it's like when a loved one throws themselves into danger without thinking twice. And on the other hand, Amy would learn that she hurts the one she wants to protect by being so reckless and daredevil.

Now, about coming from the future is an interesting theory and top tier angst. It's still too early to say anything, so every shot is valid.

My personal opinion is that Amy is actually from the present. The explosion took Ivo to the past, where he made his Metal Army, dominated Litlle Planet, and Amy was sent to live on Earth, a little after Sonic - of course, both would have no idea about each other because I love dramatic irony. She would fight with the metals from then on to prevent further interference.

And what would make her attachment issues come would be - and hear me out now - Amy knowing she won't get out of the mission alive.

My theory is that her chaos powers manifest as visions of possible futures, like a computer that calculates probabilities. However, the trauma messed up this ability of hers, always showing worst-case scenarios and basically what happens when someone functions solely on anxiety. Amy would take it at face value because of trauma and belief in fate (possibly coming from her upbringing on Little Planet).

After all, Chaos energy comes from emotions and hers would be in tatters.

This would culminate in her seeing a possible future where everything is saved but she would die. And Amy... accept it. She would live her life to the fullest based on her belief in unconditional love for all living creatures without ever forming attachments because she doesn't want the future to be harder for her or the people she would get close to.

That's where Sonic and the Wachowskis would come in. They would be a family to her and now she's devastated because she doesn't know how to tell them that there won't be a happy ending for her. That she hasn't had one for a long time. Because, as you mentioned, saving thousands of lives is more important than her and any desires she might have.

But it would be too hard to deny her own feelings. The fact that she doesn't want to die because she finally has love and family and has managed for the first time in years to not think about the imminent death that looms over her.

Tldr -> Amy's conflict is basically this part of Andor.

With Amy coming along, I can't stop thinking about the Amy-Sonic/Tom-Maddie parallels.

You know, the pink and blue scheme, Tom having a similar personality to Sonic and Amy possibly having some similarities to Maddie, Amy and Maddie possibly being two big city girls with Amy being from New York and Maddie from San Francisco while Tom and Sonic are both from Green Hills, the setup of Amy plus 3 Wachowski siblings as well as Maddie and Tom, who canonically have siblings too.

They've been foreshadowing this couple since the second movie, fight me!!

(and Tom x Maddie are the parents and couple ever, I love them!)

(Also, please give Maddie more prominence. She's awesome!)

[clumsyzw0mbiez]

let’s clear the air!

i didn’t want to make a post about this because, honestly, it feels like pointless drama to me. however, since it seems that filthy feels it’s necessary to repeatedly discuss me publicly and make accusations about me in her discord server, i feel it's important to clear the air. i really want to move on from this and put everything behind us.

you’ve mentioned before that you don’t like drama and that you’re too old for it, but it’s strange to me that if that were the case, you wouldn’t still be making posts about me, talking about me for hours in your server, or making accusations that aren’t true. if you truly feel you're "too old for this," it seems like this behavior wouldn’t be happening at all, right?

i haven’t spoken to you since september, when we were on good terms until you got upset over a misunderstanding regarding my patreon and cc. you accused me of permanently paywalling others’ content, which i’ve never done. you’ve never been a subscriber of mine, so i’m not sure where these ideas are coming from. even when people in my discord server — including my subscribers — explained that these claims weren’t true, you continued spreading the same accusations. this left me confused and frustrated.

to clarify: i’ve never made any public posts attacking you. the only posts i made were about the horrible, abusive messages and death threats i’ve received back in september, which have only continued to today. now, i’m being flooded with messages of people telling me to end my life, calling me a parasite, and telling me to disappear. i can’t help but wonder if you’re satisfied with the impact this is having on me. it’s painful, and it’s not something anyone should have to go through and i don’t wish this on anyone.

i don’t understand why you feel the need to send your friends to continue this campaign of hate. i don’t know you well at all; you were in my discord for a brief time, and from what i’ve seen, it feels like you’ve held a personal vendetta against me for a long time. i just don’t get how anyone could act this way toward another person.

your friends are now making posts about me, people i don’t even know. and i really just want it all to stop. this has gone on long enough, and i don’t want to be a part of this anymore. i have kept screenshots of everything because i had a feeling this would resurface. i don’t mean to sound harsh, but based on how you’ve acted for the past five months, it seems like there might be some instability in your behavior.

i tried reaching out to you in the past to have a mature conversation, but instead, you chose to continue making posts about me. i understand respecting boundaries, so i’m asking that you respect mine: stop making posts about me, stop encouraging hate pages, and stop sending people to attack me. this isn’t fun or enjoyable for me — this is real, and it’s hurtful.

as for the claims you’ve made about me, i’ve already addressed them. i never permanently paywalled anyone’s cc. anyone can see that by visiting my patreon. i never copied anyone’s sim. never used another simmers base, the sim you’re speaking of, i have a youtube video of me creating it from scratch! yet you still are saying. no she did. she copied it. such weird behavior. i lowered the price of my class because some people told me it was too expensive, and i was happy to accommodate. there’s no issue here, yet you keep rehashing things that have already been resolved, while spreading lies that can be easily disproven. people have already sent you screenshots showing that what you’re claiming is simply not true.

what i’m concerned about isn’t the false claims, but the death threats, the hate, and the pages being created to attack me. this whole situation is incredibly draining. i just feel like there are better, more productive ways to spend our time than perpetuating lies and hate online. i almost feel like whatever issue you have with me could have been solved with a simple conversation, which i suggested back in september and asked you repeatedly why did you feel the need to speak about any issue with me publicly instead of just talking to me? you never answered. seems you’re doing the same thing now. just trying to cause drama.

that being said, i genuinely wish you and your friends the best. i hope you can find peace and let go of the anger you’re holding. life is too short for this kind of negativity. please stop with the hate and let’s move on.

[harmonii-hoshi]

Hey! To all Milgramers, can we NOT dehumanize Amane?

Spoilers for Trial 3 Milgram!

Like I get that Amane killed Shidou and stuff but like can we instead just UNDERSTAND her instead of blatantly painting her as a physcopath that doesnt care for anyone

I mean this LITERALLY cuz like you guys just have like the WORST takes ever. A bit of mischaracterizing is fine but like HOW DO YOU GET SO OFF POINT?????

CUZ NO, AMANE IS NOT A PHYSCOPATH WHO CARES FOR NO ONE. SHE IS A CHILD. YES, YOU HEARD ME. A CHILD.

NO, I AM NOT JUSTIFYING HER ACTIONS NOR AM I EXCUSING HER ACTIONS BECAUSE OF HER AGE BUT ITS THE FACT THAT SHE IS A CHILD WHOSE BRAIN IS STILL DEVELOPING THATS IMPORTANT. SHE ISNT AN ADULT WHO KNOWS WHATS RIGHT OR WRONG. SHE IS A CHILD WHO HAS GROWN UP IN A CULT AND USES THE SAID CULTS TEACHING AS A COPING MECHANISM!

She had issues with some of her cult teachings, so instead she REBRANDED the cult to make it more suitable for herself. JUST LIKE HOW SHE FOUND A LOOPHOLE IN HER CULTS PUNISHMENTS AND USED IT AS A WAY TO DEFEND HERSELF FROM HER ABUSER???

She SAW that Fuuta was in a LOT of pain (mentally and physically) and OFFERED him a solution as a way to lessen his suffering. The said solution (cult) helped her with her own struggles WHICH IS WHY SHE GOT FUUTA IN HER CULT. AMANE WANTS TO HELP FUUTA, NOT MAKE HIM WORSE.

Should I also mention that BECAUSE OF THE VERDICT OF THE FIRST TRIAL, Amane began to indulge MORE into her cults teaching AS A COPING MECHANISM since the cult is THE ONLY THING SHE KNOWS???

"Amane holds no remorse in killing Shidou!" Im sorry but do you need other people to point out EVERYTHING for you? EVEN IF IT WASN'T SHOWN DIRECTLY, IT WAS IMPLIED THAT SHE WANTED SOMEONE TO STOP HIM FROM HEALING OTHERS. SHE YELLED AT ES SAYING SHE GAVE THEM WARNINGS OVER AND OVER AGAIN. SHE WANTED SOMEONE TO STOP HER FROM DOING WHAT SHE WAS GONNA DO but she had to follow the cults teaching because she introcidricated to.

Amane isnt careless, she's just a child who is a victim of a cults teaching. She does things that were taught are right, not what she thinks are right.

Sorry for being really passive aggressive in this post. It just really infruriates me to see Amane so dehumanized and mischaracterized in the fandom. She is so well written, it makes me sad to see ppl treat her like something shes not.

We as milgramers should remember that the prisoners are all morally grey. Theyre not pure innocent nor are they purely evil, theyre human. Humans arent perfect, so is it really shocking when a character have flaws when they are supposed to represent actual human beings?

TLDR; Amane is NOT a careless physcopath. She is a child who uses her cult teachings as a coping mechanism.

[conchcronch]

Ours

WC: 6607

Pairing: Lucanis x Rook x Spite

Summary: You and Lucanis have some time to yourselves for the first time, and there’s an incantation you’ve been working on. One thing leads to another and you have both Lucanis and Spite giving into your every want.

A/N: oh boooooy that was a long time coming!! Some background, Rook is a Mourn Watch mage, but the Mourn Watch part is only very briefly mentioned so it’s certainly not important to the plot (what little there is). Also just need to get this out of my system, Lucanis calls Rook ‘dove’ because as in mourning dove, sorry not sorry.

His lips were everywhere you needed them. Trailing down your cheek to your neck as he unbuttoned your navy shirt at a near snail-like pace. He took immense joy from watching you squirm in his lap, your hips unconsciously grinding against him as you pressed your forehead to the top of his head, a whine slipping from your lips. “My sweet, you really need to learn patience, it’s a virtue.” You could hear the smirk on his lips as he intentionally dragged the tip of his index finger along your bare skin as he separated another button from your shirt, still only half way down the garment.

“Luca” You breath in his shampoo, your hands gripping the back of his shirt as he laughed at you. “You’re gonna’ be the death of me.”

“Not without a contract I’m not.” His dark chuckle nearly forced a whine from your lips, your hands balling the back of his shirt, knowing he’d chastise you about it when he was forced to work the wrinkles out of the fabric afterwards. The last button slipped from its hole and you nearly cried, the relief of feeling his hands slide up your bare stomach seemed to be unrivaled, although that was likely your desperation speaking. You straighten out, moving your hands from around his neck towards the laces that made up your bra, the tips of your fingers barely making contact with the ties before you heard the click of his tongue at you. “No patience and incapable of following instructions, it’s a wonder you made it in any faction, let alone the Watchers.” He moved his hands from your waist, taking a wrist in either hand and guiding them behind your back, linking your fingers together. “Now, if they move before I give you permission, we’ll be having a very different discussion, understand?” You nod, clenching your fingers together as you feel his hands pull away, the tips of his fingers gliding along the waist of your casual pants, knowing they weren’t going to be on much longer. “Gooood” he purred “Now come here” One hand on your chin, fingers pressing into your cheeks lightly as he guided your lips to his, quickly catching you in an intimate kiss.

No matter how many times you kissed, he always managed to take your breath away. Despite the fact he swore up and down that his experience was minimal it never seemed like it. His hands always knew where to grab, how to hold you, his tongue always gliding along your’s as though you were merely an extension of himself. You wanted to reach forward, run your fingers through his beard and tilt his head just a bit more, but you were trying your best to follow his instructions. Your hips moved against his bulge as his hands slid down your body, his fingers tracing over every hill and valley between your neck and your hips, mentally noting every scar, cellulite and stretch mark, every piece of you that you would normally not want lingered upon, he wanted to make sure he memorized it.

He moved his head in such a way that forced your lips to part from his, pressing his forehead against yours so you didn’t immediately try to resume to kiss, a huff of breath and a small smile played across his lips when you tried for the briefest of seconds. You knew you were being especially needy, which wasn’t something you ever categorized yourself as, but with him it was different. You had tried to be subtle in the beginning, casually flirting with him and praying to the Maker that he would pick up what you were putting down. There was a point in this venture that you were sure he wasn’t interested. That every compliment he yelled during battle, every cup of coffee he made for you, every late night you spent talking, that it was all just platonic. It wasn’t until he told you that you played too close to the edge that you knew he had just been fighting to keep his feelings smothered. But now that you had him where you so desperately needed, you wanted him to get on with it, to put his dexterous fingers to good use rather than taking his sweet time, breaking you down until you were begging the Maker for him. It had taken so much to get him here, just getting him to kiss you had felt like so much effort, but when it finally happened you realized it was worth all the work.

“My love” You blinked, waiting patiently for him to continue. “I’m concerned…” his voice faded off but you didn’t need him to finish it for you to know what he meant.

“About Spite.”

“He’s fighting me” His hands moved to your waist, the pads of his fingers pressing into your skin.

“What does he want?” You pulled back, sitting up but keeping your hands joined behind your back.

“You.” For a split second his eyes glowed purple, his voice turning into a smooth growl before Lucanis groaned, shaking his head and gaining control once again.

“I thought he had calmed down?” You wanted to cup his cheek, pepper kisses along his jaw in an attempt to help him relax, but you resisted.

“He has, in most situations. But with you, he’s as feral as before.” You couldn’t help but huff out a laugh, a slightly cocky smile sneaking onto your lips. “Don’t look so smug, Rook, what happens if I can’t control him?”

“Does he want to kill me?”

“What- No of course not!” You shrugged.

”Maime me?”

“You know what he wants to do.” Lucanis was growing irritated with this line of questioning, knowing you well enough to know that you lacked a sufficient amount of concern surrounding his demon counterpart.

“Then why fight it?”

“Because he could still hurt you, or he could take over fully and-“ You leaned forward again, pressing your forehead to his.

”Emmrich has been helping me with something.” You paused, giving him the space to interject if he so chose. “I can’t do it passively like him, but I think I could hear him if I can get the incantation right.” There was a beat where you watched his brow furrow, clearly turning the idea over in his head, viewing it from all angles before finally replaying with a question.

“How long have you been working on this?” His eyebrow quirked up, his tone a lot more relaxed than you expected.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You couldn’t resist pressing your lips to his, and he didn’t fight it, smiling into the kiss before parting his lips so he could run his tongue along yours.

“Will you be able to see him?” He asked, pulling his lips away from yours, much quicker than you would have liked.

“Emmrich said I certainly would be able to hear him, and he did find reference that there have been accounts that in rare situations casters have been able to see spirits but I’m not sure I’m quite there yet.”

“Mierda” Slipped out under his breath just loud enough for you to catch it, making you raise your brow inquizically.

“What?”

”Spite is…excited.” You could feel him throb underneath you, and in return you rolled your hips against him.

“I’ll need to use my hands.”

“Go ahead.” You separated your hands for the first time since he had guided them together, bringing them in front of you and cracking your knuckles in preparation.

You closed your eyes, taking a couple deep breaths trying to force your attention away from the man beneath you, trying to ignore the way his warmth radiated through your thighs, the way he smelled, the twitching between his legs. But as the incantation began to slip lowly from your lips, your hands moving in gestures you had practiced night after night with the guidance of the resident Necromancer who had taken you under his wing long before joining the party. You could feel the magic flow from the tips of your fingers, wrapping around you.

You had practiced this spell with Emmrich many times, however the only spirit you could really hear was Manfred, but Spite felt so different. Manfred’s sense of curiosity had filled you, you had shared in the burst of enjoyment he felt while examining a dragon tooth Taash had thoughtfully given to him in an attempt to face their discomfort around the skeleton, but when you completed the spell all you felt was raw, burning arousal. If felt like your entire body was ablaze, your skin too tight for your form, and the only way to get any relief would be through rolling your hips against the man below you.

You slowly opened your eyes, blinking a few times in an attempt to clear the freeze haze that so often followed necromancy spells, as you looked around the room, disappointed when you saw no change “Did it work?” Lucanis’ hand cupped your cheek, bringing your attention back down to him.

”I’m not really sure, is he talking to you?”

“For once, no.” You sighed, somehow that seemed like something the demon would do.

“I think I feel his emotions though. So I guess it worked partially, just not how I hoped.”

“My condolences.” You laughed, trying to mask your disappointment. “We don’t need him, my dove. Is one of me not enough for you?” You could tell by the smile on his lips he didn’t really mean it, drawing you down for another kiss, his other hand tugging at the laces of your bra, working it undone with ease. You wrapped your arms around him, running your fingers through his beard as you moved his head to tilt back just a bit more as you ground your hips against him. His fingers guided the laces through the holes of the garment until he pulled it completely away, the bra slipping down and off your body.

“Your hands.”

“Ah s-sorry.” You spoke into the kiss distracted by the way his soft hands moved slowly up towards your chest and letting your wrists be pulled behind your back. Your core was throbbing, grinding against his bulge was no longer enough fiction to keep your highented arousal at bay. “Lucanis” You whined into the kiss.

“Yes, my dove?”

“I need something more.” You could feel him smile against you, a small laugh.

“How about I fuck you. Until you beg me to. Stop.” You moaned at his words,

”Maker yes.” Lucanis stiffened against you, his muscles tensing.

“You can-“ You felt Lucanis’ hand on your sternum, pushing you back so he could look at you, his eyes wide, almost frantic. ”You can hear him.” It wasn’t a question, it was almost an accusation.

“I thought you said that.”

”Do you really think that’s something I would say?” You couldn’t deny it seemed out of place from the Crow but in your arousal fogged state you weren’t about to question it.

Before you were able to come up with a witty retort, a voice stopped you “Come on. She wants. Us.” You could have sworn he was speaking directly into your ear, you could even feel breath on your cheek. You could feel hands on your back, but they lacked any sort of heat, if anything they swallowed the natural heat you were giving off.

“If this is too much for you, can you end the spell?” His tone was positively dripping in concern.

”I don’t need to.”

”That’s not what I asked.”

”Yes, if I need to, I can.”

“She. Won’t.” You looked down to see grey hands outlined in purple glow wrapping around your waist, the weird coolness making you suck a breath in. “Take Her. Pants. Off.”

“Spite.” Lucanis growled, as though he was reminding him of manners that you were sure the spirit lacked.

“Lucanis, please.”

“I-“ You watched his eyes go from you to the demon you knew was behind you. “If you don’t listen, this is over.” His words weren’t directed at you, but at the creature behind you.

“Deal.” You felt lips ghost over your shoulder, his hands moving from your stomach up to grab both of your breasts as you felt a tinge of pain forcing a startled yip from your lips before a shaky moan as the his spectral fingers worked your nipples the way you desperately wanted Lucanis to. “She wants. More.” You nodded, wishing you could lean your head back onto his shoulder but knowing you would find nothing solid to rest against.

“Please Luca.” Your words came out as a sigh that morphed into a moan when you felt a second, much warmer set of hands run down your sides. The pads of his fingers pressed into your skin, following the curves of your body until he was blocked by the waist of your navy pants, the buckles seemed even more restrictive in this particular situation. You expected him to take his time, as he had been this entire evening, but his hands barely lingered on the buckles before he started pulling at the leather straps until he was finally able to pop the buttons of your pants open. A curse slipped from his lips at the sight of your bare skin beneath your trousers, something that normally would have made you smirk however you were far to preoccupied by the demon’s ministrations to notice.

You couldn't’ stop your hips from grinding against his straining cock, the feeling of your pants now loosely moving along your folds as you rut against him. “If you don’t. I will.” Spite hissed, pulling his lips off your neck much to your frustration.

“You will not.” His hands grabbed your hips, fingers pressing into the meat of your still covered ass, pushing against you, silently urging you to stand up. As you stood up, Spite stepped back, his hands slipping off of your chest, giving you a chance to turn towards him with the intention of arguing with the demon only to be shoved backwards and onto the couch.

Both men thought to themselves, and each other, how you were a sight to behold. Naked from the waist up, nipples pebbled and slightly red from Spite’s rough handling, trousers unbuttoned and open enough that the very beginning of your slit was just visible. But as you sat, pushed back on the couch looking up at two sets of eyes, one blazing purple, the other chocolatey brown you could feel your slick gather even more, your pants feeling even more stifling then before.

As though he could read your mind, Lucanis’ hands grabbed either side of your pants, pulling them down your legs almost as slowly as he had unbuttoned your shirt, which felt like eons ago. Where you expected to feel shyness at this being the first time you had been entirely naked in front of your partner, you only felt desperation. Your legs widening when you expected to be clenching them shut, as though not only your mind was begging for him, but your body too.

The sight of Lucanis slowly lowering himself to his knees, his hands pushing your knees wider apart to accommodate his broad shoulders was enough to drag a long moan from your lips. Just before you felt his soft lips make contact with your folds you briefly made eye contact, his brow soft and his eyes filled with nothing but undying love. You leaned your head back against the soft crushed velvet of your couch, one hand naturally running through his long hair while the other pushing through your own.

“Your taste.” Spite’s voice came from above you, you could feel his breath on your lips, breathing in a scent that was so distinctly not Lucanis, spiced rooibos with a burnt mahogany and clove undertone. “Is like. Nothing. We’ve tasted before.” He groaned, the feeling of his face pressed into your hairline, his nose breathing in your scent was the only sound your body could really register, aside from the occasional moan that slipped from Lucanis’ mouth only to be swallowed by your cunt.

What the Crow’s tongue lacked in skill, he made up for with his dexterous fingers. Often covered by thick leather gloves, his hands had been shockingly soft when you had first felt them, not thinking you’d get to experience them pressing into your tight walls anytime soon. He ran his fingers between your folds, gathering your slick along them before you could feel the tip of his middle finger begin to press into your entrance. Although it had been a minute since you had had anyone between your legs, you were far from unfamiliar with pleasure as of late, often ending your long adventuring days with your hands between your thighs and face in a pillow after having been teased and denied by the Crow. The feeling of someone else’s hands moving along your thighs, between your folds, inside you, it was so much more enthralling. Although his familiarity with your body was nothing close to that of your own, he was managing to pull moan after moan from you with every come hither of his finger, quickly adding a second.

“Smells of. Sex. Of salt. Of. Of waterlily.” Spite moaned into your hair, the hand that wasn’t knotted in the Crow’s hair was near clawing at the velvet of the couch, your hips canting up anytime Lucanis tried to pull away from you, even for the briefest of moments to draw in a shaky and overexcited breath.

“My dove” he pulled away from you, his fingers still inside of you, working you open as he added a third finger, his eyes glued to where you two were joined. He waited patiently for you to open your eyes, Spite moaning in your ear as he held your hair against his nose. As you drew your head off the back of the couch, slowly opening your eyes to meet his gaze. “How am I doing?” With all three fingers he pressed against the wall of your cunt, gliding over a particularly spongy section of nerve endings that made your hips buck and a long moan lurch from your lips. He seemed just as surprised as you, but that surprise quickly morphed into unbridled attraction, he could have sworn up and down that you had never looked as stunning as you did in this exact moment. Your hair pulled away from your face, neck and shoulders thanks to Spite, your face and chest flushed, your breasts rising and falling quickly as you tried desperately to catch your breath and you eyes holding onto his gaze as though it were a lifeline.

“Good.”

“Good. Won’t make her. Cum.” Spite growled out from behind you, towards the man on his knees.

“What can I do?” You couldn’t resist reaching out to him, running your other hand through his hair and around to his face, moving your thumb through his soft and well kept beard.

”If you- fuck” his fingers continued albeit at a slower pace, the tips of his index fingers pressing into your spongy bundle of nerves just enough to make your mind go blank. He noticed the way your hips bucked every time, his eyes going between your lust drunk expression and your cunt which was fully on display for him.

“How’s this, my dove?” He pressed his fingers higher, giving your g spot a more firm pressure that almost made you weep.

“Can you- Maker- Just g-go back” he pulled his fingers back, thinking the adjustment he had made was wrong but the frustrated growl you let out let him know that it was very much the opposite. “N-no fuck- s-sorry no” his fingers were pressing even harder into your spongy insides, rubbing back and forth along the nerve endings in a way that was making it difficult to piece words together. So, instead of trying to explain what you needed from him, you moved the hand that was toying with his beard up to his crown before pushing down and forcing his face back into your cunt. You could feel him smile against you for the briefest of seconds before his tongue was sliding between your folds and up to flick at your clit.

Part of you prayed Emmrich wasn’t in his room, knowing you shared a wall with the Necromancer, and if you were this incapable of containing your sounds now, you had no idea how you’d be as the night progressed. You tried your best to make a mental note to ask Lucanis to help you prepare a special dessert for the mage as an unspoken apology for this night, and all moving forward. You seemingly lost control over the words leaving your mouth, the only thing you were sure of was that they were all praising the Crow between your thighs. “J-just like t-that Luca” Spite still gripped your hair in a tight fist against his nose, moaning directly in your ear as his free hand slipped over your shoulder to pull at your breast more.

Your mounting orgasm was building quickly, with every flick of the Crow’s tongue, his very consistent and constant strokes of your insides and the groans you could feel against you, you knew you weren’t long for this. It wasn’t until a particularly hard flick of his tongue against your clit that you begged for more of exactly that. And he was nothing if not a good study, following your directions to a T.

It only took four firm flicks of his tongue against your clit before the grip you had on his long hair tightened, pressing him further into your core as you cried out, his name the only word on your lips.

You had always been on the quicker side of coming down after an orgasm, often needing to stay decently aware of your surroundings in the Necropolis, but today was different. It was as though every ounce of energy you had was taken from you, your bones felt heavy, your muscles weak and your cunt pulsing. You had barely noticed that Lucanis had pulled away from you, pressing chaste kisses to the insides of your limp thighs, his hands gripping the meat of your legs as he did so. Spite was still behind you, clearly trying his best to mimic what his counterpart was doing, but where Lucanis was chaste and slow, Spite was still hot and needy, his teeth grazing your neck with every kiss.

You wanted to say something, make a quip, but your brain was completely blank. Your eyes felt heavy and you knew if you closed them, you’d be down for the count. The siren call of sleep was even more appealing when Lucanis shifted and sat next to you on the forest green couch, his arm sliding along the back and across your shoulders, pulling you into him. “I never thought I’d see something more beautiful then when you’re mid battle.” You laughed, voice a little raspy.

”Please don’t tell me I look better when I cum then when I fight.” You looked up at him, still keeping your ear pressed to his chest to listen to his slightly heightened heart beat.

“I would never say something like that.” Lucanis chided, smiling down at you. “You certainly look less intimidating.”

“I’ll have to try to look scarier the next time you make me cum then.” There was a beat of comfortable silence between the three of you, Spite nowhere to be seen, but you could still feel him, feel his raging arousal and desire. But, as you laid with your head on his breast, listening to his heart beat in his chest, you couldn’t help but stare down at his tented slacks, the slightest hint of a damp spot where the tip strained against the fabric.

There you sat, letting the moment stretch on as you waited for the perfect moment to earn yourself a surprised moan from your partner, a sound that despite never having heard before, you knew it would be good. “You smell different.” You sat up, pulling away from his chest and drawing his attention towards you, his gaze turning to meet yours so you could fully see his reaction when you made your move.

“Ah, it’s new. Do you like it? I wasn’t sure about it at first, but Viago recommended it.” You leaned in close, pressing your nose to his pulse point, inhaling the musky scent, allowing yourself to run your lips along his soft skin.

“I do, it’s…” Running your lips along his sensitive skin quickly turned to you nipping at it, sucking the flesh into your mouth and toying with it between your front teeth. “It smells like…” You couldn’t place it, the more you smelt it the harder it seemed to pick out the notes.

“Vetiver and amber” a voice rang in your head, the same way your inner monologue often did, but the tone was different, rougher.

“That’s exactly it.” You let your lips tickle against him as you answered the voice, barely aware that it didn’t come from the man you were sniffing.

“Rook,” The way he said you nickname wasn’t intended to get your attention, instead it was as though he was praying. This was your moment, sliding your hand along the outside of his thigh until you could feel the height of his arousal, your palm moving up his tented pants. His head tipped back, giving you more access to his neck as you pressed into him, feeling how hard he was beneath his layers of clothes. You could tell he was trying to swallow his moans, clearly still aware of where you were and the fact that at any moment either of you may be called upon.

“Let me make you feel good.” You whispered, pressing a kiss just under his ear, only gaining a broken moan in response. You moved to pull away, intending to slip down between his knees but the second you tried to back away, his hand caught you, fingers balling your open shirt.

“I need you, close to me.” His eyes were only open for long enough to get the sentence out before your hand was rubbing him through his pants forcing his eyelids to droop closed. “Meirda just like that.” You had barely touched him, only really pressing your hand into his bulge.

“Shh let me just-“ You unbuttoned the fly of his pants, thrilled to see a lack of anything underneath, making it much easier to pull his cock free from it’s prison. Your hand wrapped around it with a familiarity you really shouldn’t have, but something about the way he reacted to your touch made it feel as though you had done this thousands of times with him. A broken whimper wiggled its way from his throat, his head limp against the back of the couch as you took your time worshipping his cock.

Every time you worked him from base to tip his hips would buck, silently begging you to keep going, as though he had been in situations where things had ended prematurely. “I’m not going anywhere” you whispered, pressing kisses along his built thighs, breathing in his musk as you did so. There was enough precum to work down him, creating enough lubrication for a rather lewd sound to bounce off the aquarium glass. “More. More. More.” A voice from nowhere begged, giving you enough indication that it was time to step things up, knowing the spirit was not that of patience.

With much disappointment you released his cock, earning yourself a whine from above you and a string of curses from all around you. Your hands moved to his shirt buttons, parting them with a muted sense of urgency, not wanting to appear too needy, even if you were. With his vest and dress shirt open you couldn’t resist running your hands up his chest, starting at his firm stomach to his pecs which were dusted in black hair, before resting your hands on his shoulders. When you brought your lips to his neck again your chests were pressed flush together, taking his heat as though it were yours. “Luca” You began moving, hauling a leg over his lap so you could straddle him, feeling his cock tease at your folds while you got situated.

“Rook” his voice reminded you of when he had drank a bit too much, unburdened by self consciousness, free to enjoy the moment. In those moments he would stare at you from across a room, longing written across his expression but forcing himself, even in his most inebriated state to hold back. But not now, now he was entirely bare to you. His hands rested on your waist, his warmth radiating through you, his grip only tightening when you began moving your hips, teasing his cock as it slid between your folds but never sinking into you.

“Killing. Me!” A breathy groan came from behind you, Spite’s hands finding their way to your hips, applying enough pressure to get his desire across but not enough that you would be forced to move. That was possibly the most self restraint you had ever seen Spite have.

“Please Rook.” The crow’s hips bucked, managing to press his cock head into your hole for a moment before falling back.

“I never thought I’d see the Demon of Vyrantium in such a state.” With one hand on his chest to hold yourself up, you reached your free hand and ran it through his mussed hair.

“You’re the first.” His voice was rough, his accent thicker.

“Enough talk.” The spirit’s grip on your hips tightened and it was in that moment that you decided the spirit was right. You relaxed your thighs and allowed him to push you down. And as though it were planned, all three voices rang out in unison as you sank down onto Lucanis.

Without even realizing it, you were leaning against Spite’s heat sucking body. His form was holding you up, something you hadn’t expected, his ghostly lips pressing along your shoulder and onto your neck, his canines dragging along your skin as he moved. “Move.” You slowly bucked your hips, rolling them in as close to circles as you could manage. The man in front of you was struggling against the urge to pinch his eyes closed, desperate to watch the way you moved on top of him.

As you picked up your pace, your partner’s cries grew in volume, his hips sputtering to meet your’s. His hands which were still on your waist tugged you forward, and you allowed yourself to be moved with only a growl from the form behind you. Lucanis caught your lips, moaning as you kissed. “Muévete por mi”. His husky voice rang in your ear, and although you hadn’t a clue what he said, the way he pulled your hips up gave you an inclination. You broke the kiss, breathing becoming difficult as your breaths were more shallow. Your forehead pressed to his shoulder, your body allowing him to move you in any way he, and Spite pleased.

With your knees on the crushed velvet cushions and Lucanis’ hands moving your hips up and down you could feel Spite’s hands all over your ass, pressing his nails into your meat as he watched the way you greedily pulled your partner into you.

“Close already?!” The words weren’t meant for you, but were said seconds before you felt what you assume to be Spite’s tongue running up along your spine, moans rumbling against you.

“Callarse la bocca-ah mierda!” Having only been able to understand one word from that exchange you had no idea what was said, but you knew from the way he spat the words, it wasn’t meant for you. His Crow’s hands tightened on you, moving you in rougher and quicker bounces.

“Can you,” You paused, feeling breath that you knew wasn’t there against your neck, spectral hands wrapping around your waist, palms on your belly. You pushed yourself up, using Lucanis’ shoulders for support so you could feel the body of the spirit behind you. “Can you feel everything that Lucanis can?” The heatless hands ran over your skin, lips moving from just behind your ear down to your shoulder, fangs pressing against where your neck met shoulder. You rolled your hips, as if emphasizing your question when no one answered.

“I can. Feel you. Not the same as when. I’m in. Control.” His lips moved against your skin, his grip changing as he finished his sentence.

“It still feels good though, right?” If Lucanis weren’t so lust drunk you knew he would groan, irritated that you were ensuring that his parasitic other self was also enjoying himself.

“Feels. Amazing.” His hands moved to your waist, feeling the exact same as Lucanis’ hands that were still holding onto your hips.

“Luca-ah” his hand reached out to you, cupping your cheek and guiding you down to him.

“My love” his voice was thick with lust. You held the hand that was on your cheek, pulling it away from your face and bringing it down between you two. Pressing it to your breast before slowly pushing it down, allowing him to take his time so you could savour the warmth of his palm before it finally got where you needed it the most. You pressed his thumb against the crest of your labia, the firmness of his digit giving you so much more stimulation than you needed to get there with him.

“M-Maker y-yes” the words flowed out of you the same way breath does. You pulled yourself up, arching your back so you could support yourself on his knees as you picked up the pace of your hips. The sound of skin on skin was dwarfed only by the moans that were ripped from the Crow’s lungs. One hand still held to your lower belly, while the other held your hips as though he was worried you’d fall.

“Ya-a casi llego” unable to translate from his native tongue his words came out with no thought.

“He’s close.” You could feel the words against your nape. As you fucked yourself on him you also bucked your hips up, rutting against his thumb, getting more and more desperate as you got closer.

“Fuck fuck Luca!” Your orgasm washed over you with the same force of an Antaam charging into you. Your body tensed, feeling the way his cock hit as deep into you as possible before a warmth filled you, his hips thrusting up, fucking his seed deeper.

You slumped forward, your forehead against his shoulder as the pulses of pleasure tapered off, your breathing hard to catch and exhaustion pulling at your lids. It seemed Lucanis was in the same boat, his chest rising and falling as quickly as it had during the battle at Weisshaupt, his hands moving to wrap around you.

The room finally fell silent, both of you enjoying being held by the other. You could feel his seed begin to seep out around his cock that was still nestled in your cunt, and just when you were about to haul yourself off of his lap his grip turned iron, pushing you back onto his cock. That’s when you noticed it, the smell of rooibos and mahogany filled your nose that was pressed against his neck. “My. Turn.” You pulled back, seeing chocolate eyes turned glowing amethyst.

His hands were on your hips, your back to the velvet couch before you could comprehend it. He pulled your leg around his waist, while pushing the other off the edge of the couch. It felt like his hands were everywhere, groping at the meat of your thighs, tugging at your overly sensitive nipples, spreading your lips so he could get the perfect view of Lucanis’ cum drizzling from your well fucked cunt. “Spite.” You moaned, reaching out to him, wanting to feel his borrowed lips on yours, knowing a kiss with him would be so different from his other self.

There was a flash of surprise across his face when your hands cupped his face, allowing himself to be drawn into you. It almost seemed as though he hadn’t expected to be wanted in this way. When your lips let its almost as though he stuttered, unsure of what to do before the taste of you was enough to send him into a feral state once more.

The kiss was mostly teeth and tongue, Spite growling into your mouth as his hands kneaded your chest, thumbs pressing into your nipples. “Need. You.”

“You have me.” The words were barely audible over the sounds of the spirit as he bucked his hips, not penetrating you but rather sliding his cock through your folds. You reached between your bodies until you could grab his cock, feeling your slick coating his member already. It didn’t take much to guide the head to your hole, slipping it in almost as soon as he felt your warmth. Your moans were almost tangled together, not just your’s and the spirit’s but also Lucanis’. Once Spite started there was no slowing him, every thrust rattled the couch, the sound of flesh smacking was almost as loud as his grunts. With one hand on your thigh, holding it around his waist and the other supporting your head, fist full of your hair he fucked into you with all his force. His face was pressed into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent as though it were his last moments on this plane. Your hands were in his hair, tugging on it with every thrust, doing your best to hold on.

“Want you. To. Cum.” The overstimulation was almost enough to get you there, the way his whole body was moving yours, the feeling of being completely overwhelmed by him after having been lovingly fucked moments before. But when you managed to pull your hand out of his hair and snake it between your two sticky bodies to rub at your clit, you knew you weren’t going to last long. Knowing the sensation would be too much if you pressed directly to the bundle of nerves, you opted instead to press your index and middle finger on either side of your clit, rubbing the bud between them in time with his stuttering thrusts.

“Spite” at the sound of his name he moved his head, pressing his nose to the side of your neck instead of your shoulder, his tongue lapping at your skin, catching your flesh between his teeth every so often. “I’m so close.” You were nearly crying, the overstimulation sending a buzz through your body that was unlike anything you had ever experienced.

“Cum for us.” Their voices were mingled together, gravelly demon and honey sweet Crow, partners.

You couldn’t be sure if it was the way your cunt squeezed when you came that sent Spite over the edge or the warmth that flooded you for the second time that evening that forced you into your own world shattering orgasm. Your back arched off the couch as his hips slammed into you, fucked both of their seed deeper into you.

His body was limp on top of you, his full weight blanketing you as both of you tried to recover from that experience. Your body was sticky, skin buzzing, breath impossible to catch and the weight of your partner wasn’t helping but brought a kind of comfort you hadn’t experienced.

Slowly, his body shifted, moving so he was able to push himself up and look into your eyes. “Ours” amethyst light faded to earth brown pupils, brows softening as a sigh left his lips. The confusion that was so often written across Lucanis’ face after being taken over by Spite wasn’t there, there was only a soft smile as he ran his thumb along your cheek. “Ours.” His voice was rough but entirely his, and the kiss he pressed to your chapped lips only served to emphasize his point.

[l-g-6-5]

Ramble incoming because this is something I feel strongly about as a VCD Major and a Roblox user.

Cosplay is a serious thing. The aesthetic of a character has to be upheld, while not only communicating who you are to an onlooker, but also be comfortable with it yourself, as you have to stare at the damn thing. This is visual communication.

(Going forward, violations of either rule will be color-coded. Green if for aesthetic, red is for communication and purple for personal comfort. Colors alternating mean they violate all those points.)

R6 and R15 is easy enough with the outfits. For many people, they can just upload the shirt and pants of the character they want. Hair and accessories aren't hard to find, and if you are playing a popular character, those would be easy to find.

Faces are the worst. The faces have been gaining meme status, Man Face, Woman Face, Winning Smile, and Chill Guy, and it makes the faces come off as ironic. When choosing a classic face, I often avoid the four I mentioned. UGC creators make face masks to change the way a face looks, but these tend to look weird if the character is highly stylized, realistic, or detailed.

This gets worse once you get into character packages, dynamic heads, and layered clothing. This may be a bit off topic, but I feel like this is necessary.

Many of the new character packages are made to accommodate layered clothing and have obstructive 'Modesty Layers' that add a black or white stripe across the chest and/or waist of a model. This would be fine if 2D clothing cancels out the modesty layers, but they don't. The body will show the modesty layer on the outside. This limits people who wants their 2D clothes on a different model than blocky. The avatar creators also tend to lean towards femme-presenting avatars and proportions or weird animals that push the boundaries of the avatar bounds. This leaves limited options for masc-presenting avatars. Even worse, these models are likely not supported in games that stick to R6 or R15, like the image above, which will make them default to the blocky model. I know that it's R6 because of the lack of joints and articulation.

Layered clothing is very limited to general items and cannot support several items of a type without plugins. Again, these can also just not be supported by an experience and leave the character next to naked, and also has the issue of the creators making more things for femme-presenting avatars.

Dynamic heads are great in practice for most faces. I say this because most new faces were made to be emoted with. The issue comes when they made them for the default Roblox faces and they made it the standard. This includes the four mentioned above. They attempt to keep the visual of the original face, but allow it to blink and move its mouth. Because of this, it is very uncanny when they appear. You expect that face to be still, but then they speak and the face moves and you feel like you are looking into a deepfake.

Time to come back around. The Man Face being memeified sucks, as it is a solid face for a heavily masc-presenting avatar. This is an issue I find when making JoJo cosplay avatars. I have Bruno Bucciarati and Leone Abbacchio. With four faces sliced out, I am not given a lot of options by Roblox's default faces. I will not use the dynamic faces. JoJo characters are very stylized, so the face covers look awful. This leaves me usually using one of three faces. When choosing the outfit, not a lot of options remain for these masculine characters. Bodies are limited with the modesty layer and layered clothing doesn't have many options for men. I have to cater to R6 games like Fisch, but also Rthro games like Oaklands. The way a character appears is important for when you want to be taken seriously in cosplay.

Which is what this guy suffers from. They can't find a good face option that they are comfortable with.

TLDR: Roblox avatars are inconsistent, lean feminine, and memeing the faces ruins the message.

Thanks for hanging with me for this long. This is something I am just passionate about. Sorry for hijacking your post.

[mipexch]

there's something so beautiful about rain world's art style that i can't properly put into words

[gatoburr0]

This might be a bit of a dark question about the fuzzy AU but.. was Acht alone when they died? I'm assuming timeline wise that side order didn't happen pre Grizz winning (unless it did) so did they spend their last few days(?) alone in the Deepsea Metro with no idea what was happening to them or did something less heart wrenching happen?

Man that is a massive plot hole I completely forgot about and did not see coming. Honestly I think I can make it so somehow Acht already met Callie before getting fuzzed up? Because if not it wouldn’t be so interesting (and most importantly there wouldn’t be enough angsssssst).

Also yeah this post is a bit sad so just sayin’.

Acht and Callie already knew each other and went out together constantly, but they got fuzzed up when they were far from each other. Acht couldn’t get out of wherever they were in, because they were just so weak, until it was too much to handle and they died, alone, nobody knew they were struggling with it.

Callie often gets flashbacks about the time they spent together, however her memory gets blurred by her instincts and she doesn’t seem to be affected by them that much anymore. But she does remember them vividly, being probably their first true love.

She sometimes stays up at night thinking about them.

And the saddest part is that she still thinks they’re doing okay somewhere around.

(Read tags)

[ironicgreenfern]

When I compared Wilson’s translation of the first line of Book 9 with Fagles and Cook, I did notice that she doesn’t leave much to the reader for interpretation. Fagles uses the phrase “teller of tales” which can both refer to Odysseus’ prowess in telling stories or it could refer to the meaning of “tales” as “fabrication” or “fiction”. Either way, Fagles leaves it to the reader to decide. When Wilson uses the epithet “lord of lies”, she doesn’t give us as much freedom. I did a bit of research on my own and found out this review by Corrine Pache, professor of classical studies at Trinity University, San Antonio. She actually mentions this. She too, felt that “lord of lies”, while catchy, was unsuitable and did not convey the full meaning of the word used there. She also says that Wilson uses the word “girls” to describe the slaves who were killed, while in reality, the original Greek text describes them as “women” and “slaves”. So, yes, I do agree with you, it does feel like Wilson purposefully mistranslates passages in her effort to overcome the bias. Unfortunately, this too creates a bias and wilfully manipulates the understanding of the reader. Another thing that the review mentions, and rightfully so, because I too was upset with it when I first read Wilson’s translation, was her deliberate choice to omit repetitions of certain passages. These repetitions are a proof of the oral tradition and an intrinsic part of the narrative. Without them, the text loses some of its charm.

When I said that “Odysseus’ deceptions destroyed lives”, I only wanted to draw attention to the fact that his plans might benefit one group while harming the other. While it is true, the Odyssey shows him trying to minimising the damage as much as possible, such is the nature of plans in general. A kind of an action-reaction effect (I hope this makes sense). To me, it seemed important to consider the reaction too. Also, while it is true that Odysseus warns the suitors repeatedly, I have always felt conflicted about the part where Odysseus and Telemachus kill the slave women. Odysseus reasons that they have brought shame upon his household and conspired with the suitors by sleeping with them. Yet, how can we be certain that they did so willingly? They were slaves after all. They had no one to protect them, with the master of the household gone, and Telemachus still young. Perhaps the women slept with the suitors not out of willingness, but out of fear. Even if some of them did willingly conspire with the suitors, did they really pose a threat to Odysseus? (Also, my usage of the word “terrible”, might have been a bit strong!)

As for the “cheating” thing that you said, it probably wasn’t a big deal for people to sleep with women other than their wives, if you look at it through the text’s time. I mean, we do see the Greeks in the Iliad taking war prizes in the form of women. And Odysseus does it as a necessity, not out of a need, perhaps? Because both Circe and Calypso were very powerful women, and potentially harmful to Odysseus (and his men, in case of Circe). In Book 5, Calypso does seem a bit miffed that Odysseus keeps wanting to see his wife when she is so much more beautiful, and Odysseus has to soothe her by saying that Penelope could never match her beauty. As I said before, Odysseus isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty, and maybe this is one of the cases. Cheating is awful, yes, but it seems a bit unfair to judge a character completely by our standards when he comes from a time so long ago.

Whatever I said about Odysseus in my previous post, was what I interpreted based on reading translations of Fagles and Wilson. I agree with all that you said, and again I am grateful that you answered to my post, because it helped me clear up a lot of things up about Odysseus in general. He is my favourite character too, and I am always happy to talk about him to someone (a habit that annoys my parents!). I also apologise if my interpretations are not always correct, as I am only 15, and as such my reading is nowhere near an expert like you. But I am really enthusiastic about Greek mythology and I hope to learn the language someday, so that I can read the epics in their own language.

I’ll also be adding Lattimore (and the others) to my reading list, since you recommended them. To be honest, I was a bit upset when I learned that Wilson’s translation was inaccurate. I think I really should do a side by side reading comparison of Wilson and any other translation next. If I do, I hope you won’t mind if I occasionally pester you with asks regarding any confusion I might have.

One of my favourite moments in the Odyssey is how Alcinous reacts after listening to Odysseus’ tales about his journey back from Troy, in Book 11. This is the moment I am talking about:

This is page 291 in my Norton edition of Emily Wilson’s translation of the Odyssey

Keep in mind that this is after Odysseus talks about the incidents in the cyclops’ cave (the “nobody” incident, as I like to call it) just two books before, in Book 9. Book 9 also begins with the following lines:

This is page 240

Alcinous’ praise in Book 11 (the first pic) made me audibly go “What?!” when I first read it. I am quite certain that this was the general reaction of the gods on Olympus, who were very probably listening to the conversation all along.

Odysseus’ charisma is unmatched.

[wonder-worker]

Wild how we know that Elizabeth Woodville was officially appointed to royal councils in her own right during her husband’s reign and fortified the Tower of London in preparation of a siege while 8-months pregnant and had forces gathering at Westminster “in the queen’s name” in 1483 – only for NONE of these things to be even included, let alone explored, in the vast majority of scholarship and historical novels involving her.