#but they also outlive their own story

[calamity-unlocked]

Glenn and Jodie are level 20. What if. Henry is also level 20.

Which means I get to put a spotlight on one of my favorite angst-inducing 5e class features:

Let's say Henry got to level 20 when he was 50 years old. At the start of season 2, he's 65.

Assuming the average natural lifespan for a Californian man to be 79, Henry could go on to live for another 275 years.

275 years. That means he'll outlive his kids, his grandkids, Mercedes. It means he will see the world change in so many different ways, until it's unrecognizable from what it once was. I think Henry never would have wanted this fraction of immortality, but if there's anyone who sticks around a bit longer to take care of the world, I'm glad it is him.

[drbtinglecannon]

Really getting into the doomed human/elf relationships lately

[atopvisenyashill]

if i did a reread of the walking dead and wrote an essay on how aegon ii and carl are doomed to be the last man standing by their narratives, and what starts out as a sort of cool & nifty super power of always surviving turns into this horrific curse where everyone they know is dying around them & sometimes it’s their fault & sometimes it’s not but either way they can’t ever stop it until they’re sitting at the ending with nothing but their lone daughter to protect but so broken they can no longer connect to her and then their story abruptly ends-

would that be like the Most stupid, nerdy thing i have ever done in my life or

[silencedrage]

of course i am at work but i'm thinking about van and travis and how they are the survivors who really bought into lottie's woo woo in the wilderness and how that still comes back to haunt them in different ways. and i think about how nat connects them because she's so important and integral to both of them (to ME) but at the same time, they develop their own little bond outside of that. i can see them having maybe kept in touch post-rescue for a little bit, which eventually falls off, but thinking about how nat and travis are trapped in this cycle that van and tai are also trapped in

and then thinking about van hearing about his death, which probably wouldn't even be until after everything that happens? because when did they have time to bring up travis while they were dealing with the sharing shack and adam and lottie having her own psychotic break

so it's just van in the aftermath, mourning both nat and travis, and they don't know how to talk about that grief bc yeah travis and nat were awful for each other in many ways, but he was still their friend and went through the same awful shit they all did and even though he "didn't believe in any of that shit", it still haunted him and drove him to death and van has to sit there and wonder whether coercing him to eat his own brother was the worst thing they ever did to him

[valtsv]

a lot of stories will take a so-called "golden age" period and go "hey it wasn't actually that good, in fact it kind of sucked for basically everyone but a few guys who benefitted from exploiting the rest" and i can respect that because i love a good exposure of the bones the system is built on, but the thing is i also kind of want more stories where it really was that good and just as horrifying for it. empires bursting at the seams with opulence, where gold really does run as freely as blood in the gem-encrusted streets. warriors clad in shining armour, with weapons so bright and sharp they hurt to look at. every day is overflowing with possibility, every night a party where people gorge themselves sick on sheer excess and still return for more. even the poorest man in the region lives in comparative luxury to his poverty-stricken peers elsewhere. and none of it is sustainable. it's collapsing under its own weight and the rot eating at its heart, its bottomless hunger barely kept at bay. it's a society that isn't built to last or be outlived.

[hellenhighwater]

Why all the stars on stuff? Both in your house and in the sculptures.

It's true that I will take the thinnest possible excuse to make anything celestial themed; I will own up to that without shame.

I don't know if I can put it into words. Astronomy was a big part of my childhood--my dad was president of a local astronomy club and we spent a lot of summer nights at a little observatory in the middle of nowhere, chasing lightning bugs and watching supernovas. I learned to make model rockets and how to navigate from the North Star, and that the constellation of freckles on my left arm was only three stars short of Orion. That feeling of warm wind over the fields, the serenity and wonder of staring skywards, will never quite leave me.

But also, as an agnostic person, there's something about the stars that I find so hopeful and isolating all at once. As far as we know, we are the only things in the universe that look at the stars and wonder what other worlds may wait. The cataclysmic power of infinite suns, and none of them wondering if they are alone. The endurance of billions of years of time and space and the eons of distance light has crossed to meet our eyes, looking upwards into darkness, telling stories that turn the nuclear fury of distant galaxies into nothing more than the memorial of a human hunter. Pinpricks of light that will outlive the entirety of our species, named only on our breath. They're a tether to every one of our ancestors, who looked up into the field of diamonds and marveled, and every one who will come after. A star is the ultimate proof that creation and destruction are inexorably intertwined, that utter failure and collapse is not an ending, that light continues on.

In the emptiness between them is the persistent promise of entropy. The reminder that life, for all its glories, is finite, and darkness is not. The warning to savor what hope crosses the deep oceans of universe to reach us, because even that will not last forever. Entropy, the great hunter, will lay stars and souls down in the same grave someday, and all things will end no matter how we fight it. There is a comfort in knowing that whatever awaits us past the final flicker of life spares nothing, not a single cell or a galaxy entire, all of us entering the great mystery together.

We, the stargazers, are the cosmic elite--we alone look out at the universe, which, for all its splendor and vastness, has no eyes to gaze back at us. We alone have the privilege of sapience, not only to exist in the whirl of fireflies in the endless night, but to know it, to get to revel in its beauty, for the momentary flicker of our existence. And still there is hope that we are not alone; that the universe is so incomprehensibly enormous that the statistical impossibility of existence has occurred more than once; that maybe someone else out in the beyond is assigning meaning to our sun.

[tofixtheshadows]

Hello, op! While I do find your reading of Kabru’s self sacrifice and how little he eats really good, im curious why you consider him the deuteragonist? He is a foil to the protagonist yes, but still a supporting character.

I think its pretty clear Marcille is the second most important character in DM, and her story has much more weight than Kabru’s.

Hello! I've mentioned this on my blog before, but I actually consider Marcille and Kabru to both be deuteragonists to Laios's protagonist. I just wasn't talking about Marcille in that post.

Technically this term is meant to be used in playwriting, and the Greek tradition at that, so I'm playing a little loosey goosey with semantics and my argument would sound different if I were writing an academic paper. But this is tumblr dot edu and I'm trying to get a point across on my little blog, and part of the idea of a deuteragonist is that they support the protagonist. "Secondary main character who has their own importance in the narrative while bolstering the protagonist" works well enough for my purposes.

I think Marcille and Kabru are both playing specific and complementary roles to Laios. Marcille is at his side, facilitating the A plot: namely, "save Falin", which requires Marcille's magic, and then Marcille's method of resurrection ropes Thistle in, so the continuation of "save Falin" necessitates confronting the Dungeon Lord and conquering the dungeon (the B plot).

Kabru only intersects with Laios, but he is tied from the beginning to the B plot- and with dragging basically everyone else into it. Actually, the fact that he brings in this extremely loaded B plot despite only having brief face time with the protagonist should be seen as significant. In a sense, Kabru represents the surface world and all its concerns.

Before I talk about that more, I want to continue with the complementary line of thinking and point out that Kabru and Marcille have very similar background motivations.

Laios wants to save his sister first and foremost, and it's only along the way that he starts to consider what he'd do with the responsibility of Dungeon Lord. Coming to the conclusion that he wants to create a home for disparate peoples to live in harmony has connective tissue to both Kabru and Marcille's desires.

Marcille is the only one in their party who starts out with a greater motivation other than saving Falin (Izutsumi is a special case, but she's ultimately along for the ride), one that she keeps hidden for a long time. Because she is a mage, and because she is driven by a very personal tragedy (my dad died; I am terrified of outliving everyone), she is looking for a miracle to bring the different races closer together.

Kabru comes from a background of personal tragedy as well, but it's also a far greater, more political tragedy than just the death of a parent. It is not a coincidence that Kabru is a brown boy from an exploited region that suffered despite and because of military intervention from a first-world power, nor that he was adopted by a white woman whose coddling/dehumanization of him represents the paternalistic oversight of these world powers.

Thus, Kabru's motivations are both personal and political: if they, the short-lived races, can finally access the secrets of the dungeons, then not only can they have agency in stopping tragedies like Utaya's, but it will also give them a greater power of self-determination.

Marcille and Kabru have both correctly identified and set themselves against a problem that is greater than saving the life of one girl, greater even than sealing this one dungeon.

Despite Marcille's hopes, there is no grand magic solution to this. Only small, slow, backbreaking, ordinary solutions, the kind you labor over in kitchens and bedrooms and throne rooms and meeting houses and hearths and negotiation tables. The kind you run a kingdom with.

There is a reason why Dungeon Meshi ends with Marcille and Kabru on either side of Laios's throne.

Okay: back to Kabru (under the cut).

I've talked about this a little before, but I'll reiterate here: I consider Kabru to be the counterweight to the back half of the story. In a very literal sense too, as he pulls the focus up from the depths to the surface not once, but twice. Dungeon Meshi builds itself on the premise that the traditional "dungeon" must function as an actual ecosystem, and the monsters in it are biological actors in that ecosystem and not merely magical obstacles independent of their environment. The first couple dozen chapters are focused on this. Like regular animals, monsters have needs and instincts and unique behaviors, and they can be killed and consumed as part of a food chain.

And then Kabru comes along and he reminds us that humans are also part of their own special ecosystem, with their own needs and instincts and unique behaviors, and that beyond the biological drive of the literal food chain there are also complex social issues influencing these behaviors (like capitalism). Tansu's visit with the governor introduced us to these ideas, but Kabru is the one who carries them.

The way he and his party break down Laios's party also serves an important function. I think most readers are so busy being shocked that Kabru is "so wrong" about our goofy boy Laios that they don't realize that he isn't actually wrong about anything (he's only missing the context of what drives Laios, which he admits to and is part of the reason why he pursues him). We've gotten only Laios's view of things so far, and Laios is pretty tunnel-visioned. The narrative, through Kabru, is telling the reader this is how our protagonist actually comes across to his community.

We like Laios because we are following his story from his inner circle. We know he's naive and struggles with people but that he has a good heart and is ultimately just a big silly guy who won't harm anybody if he can help it. But we only know that because we're seeing him with his inner circle, in his environment. Outside of the dungeon, Laios is anti-social to the point of rudeness; he misreads situations and misjudges people, he acts in ways that cause friction, and he accidentally aligns himself with people who make his whole enterprise look suspicious: a prominent half-foot community leader, a mysterious foreigner literally surrounded by spies, the disgraced daughter of a criminal who now has to shoulder the burden of her father's reputation, and an elf in a land where there are no elves. And they seem to be very good at what they're doing. Yet this whole time, Laios acts as if he doesn't care about profit or taking the kingdom, the only logical reasons why anyone on the Island would gather up such a party and throw themselves into this death pit day after day.

Yeah of course Kabru finds this suspicious and interesting. Of course people don't know what to make of Laios. This all reiterates the question that Zon the orc already raised: What will you do, Laios, if you defeat the Mad Mage? If you gain control of all of this? Can you be a leader? Laios himself doesn't know yet.

This is all necessary context for our protagonist and the journey he has to go on, and it's fittingly brought up by the most socially adept character, who is so concerned with human ecosystems and the bigger picture of the dungeon. There is a reason why Kabru, as a character, is connected to large webs of people as he moves throughout the narrative: his own party, Toshiro's party, the Canaries, the denizens of the first floor of the dungeon.

Kabru is responsible for bringing Toshiro down to Laios's party. Toshiro is not a big mover and shaker in the story itself, but his confrontation with Laios is a huge part of Laios's character arc. His detour down to the lower levels also allows Izutsumi to escape and join Laios's party later.

We also have this very important moment:

It shows the first inkling- to the audience, to Kabru, and to Laios himself- that Laios is willing to do a painful, necessary thing to protect other people, that he won't just allow them to become collateral for his sister/monsters. That he can listen, and that he can assess a situation beyond his personal feelings. Again, fittingly, big-picture-thinker Kabru is the catalyst for this.

And then, not content to leave him as merely a device for Laios's character growth, the focus slingshots back up to the surface, and we follow Kabru.

The Canaries were going to go into the dungeon soon anyway, and they were always going to stir up the crowd in order to lure Thistle to them. Unless Thistle had given up right then and managed to slip away, the story could have very easily ended here:

Falin, immobilized and surrounded by Canaries, would have certainly been killed, and there would have been no way to ever resurrect her. Thistle would have been neutralized. The dungeon would have been taken by the elves, and anyone they could get their hands on would have been imprisoned at best. And maybe the dungeon would have been managed safely ... or maybe something would have gone wrong, and more lives would have been lost. Remember: the Canaries arrived in Utaya one year before the tragedy.

This is a huge moment that changes Laios's life forever, and he doesn't even know it. Kabru single-handedly keeps the story on course by sabotaging the Canaries, and he does it not just for Laios's sake, but for everyone's sake. For his friends and companions in the dungeon and everyone else outside it. Laios is a part of his motivation, a key player in Kabru's hopes, but Kabru has his own desires, his own agenda. He's trying to change the world. In a way, he succeeds. And while the Canaries might wish it were otherwise, as an entity in the narrative they are always anchored to Kabru's character. The two forces collide because of Kabru. The unsealing of the Winged Lion and Marcille's emergency ascension to Dungeon Lord happen indirectly because of Kabru.

While I have talked so much already that I don't want to give a detailed breakdown of it, I do want to mention Kabru's unique interiority as a character. That is to say: we see the inside of Kabru's head more than anyone else. Every character in the main ensemble gets their own moments of inner monologues or fifteen minutes in the limelight, but for Kabru, it's constant. He's always thinking, talking, narrating. His POV chapters always stand out for how first-person they feel compared to most others.

Notably, the only other character I could compare that to is Marcille, specifically during the dungeon rabbit debacle and her ascension afterward, which is when she really takes center stage as a character.

I hope I've explained my reasoning without becoming too insufferable.

To cap off my thoughts with a nod to my original post, I cannot stress enough how significant it is, thematically, that Kabru's relationship with food is the inverse of Laios's. It isn't just that Laios is the main character in a story about cooking monsters and Kabru happens to be his monster-hating foil. The artistic choice to deny the reader the visual of this character ever enjoying food, and only ever putting it in his mouth in situations where it hurts him, in a manga that gives so much attention to eating and the pleasures of meals, cannot be understated.

[im-not-your-nice-jewish-boy]

we've got long memories

I am not the least bit surprised by any of the tidal wave of antisemitism the left has spewed since October 7th. Every single post saying Hamas did nothing wrong; every single targeted attack on my fellow Jewish people on this site; the number of people who proudly paraded misinformation and disinformation to the extent of funding organizations actual Palestinians have said outright don't help them in any way just because it's against Israel which means that it must be good. None of this is surprising to me.

Now, maybe you could say that I'm a cynical bastard, and you'd be right. But you'd also completely be missing why I'm a cynical bastard. I learned this from my mother, who was beaten up just for being Jewish as a child. I learned this from family who disappeared between my ancestors fleeing the countries they came from and looking to see who made it with them. I learned this from the story of one of my grandfathers picking a new birthday because his birth certificate had been burned when the Shul was destroyed so he had no idea when it was. I learned this from people using "Jewish" as an insult in school and watching a girl I knew break down in tears because people were calling her a Jew when she wasn't. I learned this from holiday after holiday that repeated the same verse of people trying to destroy us and us celebrating our survival.

We remember these things because the rest of the world is very good at deliberately forgetting them.

"It's not that bad because it happened to the Jews. It's not an actual problem because Jews are white anyway. Was the Holocaust really even so terrible? Why do you want to be oppressed so badly if not to use it as a weapon against people who you're oppressing yourselves?"

Some variety of every single one of those is something I've seen in recent memory.

So, dear Passionate Goy Internet Leftists who have spent the last few months attacking and accosting every single Jewish person who dares to speak on the issue in any way that doesn't make them a Good Jew?

My dear friend, just know that we will remember you. You can try to go back to normal. You can try to just sweep it under the rug. You can try to act like it was all just business as usual and there was no harm done to any "Good Jews" and just to the "Evil Zionists" (both of which deserve their own rant post and have multiple of them from people a lot smarter than I am).

We will remember what you did

You will never be able to make us forget you calling for our deaths

And most of all, we will outlive you, just like everyone else who ever bayed for our blood

[grazieschillivera]

Thornless Roses

Marcus Acacius x senators daughter! reader

Prompt: Marcus Acacius is on the hunt for you. Not only are you his promised wife, who happened to have run away, there are also other threats outside, not only for you, also for him and his power, he tirelessly has to defend, especially in times of rebellion- one reason more that lets the pressure and urge of control rise in him.

Warnings: Smut 18!, noncon-ish, arranged marriage, semi forced sex, control play, brat taming, dirty talk, loss of virginity, marcus is fucking some sense into you; marcus calling the reader his whore, naïve/stubborn Reader

Word count: circa 3.9 k

Authors note: We only have the trailer for what a week? And still this fandom knocks out one story after the other?! I love this spirit <3 ! So I wanted to join you- have fun! + not entirely satisfied with it, critique is appreciated

His broad legs shoved the water angrily away until it was only left underneath his feet before he let you fall own the wet ground. Only then his eyes looked down at you again, sternly. Colder than the water that made your dress cling onto your body, has been this look.

This rescue wouldn’t have been necessary, if you hadn’t been so uncareful, if he hadn’t hunt you down so merciless and if your father hasn’t promised you to this beast the first place. Now you were not only back under his watch, you also owned him your life. In bitter shame you looked down.

His men came nearer, his torches that had helped him finding and saving you from drowning tinted the soil orange. With a heavy sigh came Marcus boots into your brighter view, also drenched in dirty sea water, he waited for you to give him your attention.

,,On the horse, now’’, said Marcus, after you wouldn’t react. His hand landed under your chin to let your head rise up, your damp hair moved across your shoulders, letting you shiver, which you directly suppressed. Eager to not let him think you were afraid or impressed. Luckily there was no reaction from Marcus, he didn’t move a muscle until you walked to an empty saddled horse. You could feel him right behind you with each step. It was like all his controlled anger, that couldn’t be outlived on a kidnapper turned now into body heat. Even his hands were burning hot when they grabbed your hips and shoved you onto the horses back.

His small troop of ten men all rode in front of you. Another gust of wind blew over your ribs and all of a sudden you could feel your hardening nipples, rubbing over your inner arms while riding to the general’s quarter. You looked over your body and saw how the dampness has turned your dress almost transparent.  Another weave of bitter shame made your lips twitch up– Marcus must be furious, not only for you disappearing, but for the fact that you had run away and now looked so bare, far away from untouchable. But also, far from being controllable.

You despised this man, with him freedom came with ignominious sacrifices. But the general was just as vulnerable as you – and if necessary you would drag him with you through this hell.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Outside of Marcus’ tent has been a broad fire that you deliberately have chosen for your tonight’s spot, instead of following him inside like a good wife. It was summer and yet the night could turn everything bitterly cold with its pitch bringing darkness and lonely winds. By the time one soldier came out of Marcus’ tent to deliver the generals wish to see his promised wife you wordlessly kept your position, although the fire could only half heartly help you warming up. But your suffering was his as well – with that you sternly locked eyes with every soldier passing by and eventually with your promised husband once he came outside. Just like he did before.

,, I send someone to bring you inside, you must eat’’, Marcus said, his voice just as strict but you could hear his urge for control out of it.

,, Yes and I send him away. I’m not dining with you, we don’t belong together general, despite all those charming words my father must have used, as usual for a senator’’ your voice sounded softer and yet deadlier than unusual due to the coldness.

,,You think you are above me Y/N, is that why you’d rather run away?’’, asked the general.

You fought to let your face stay cold. Now he started to understand, but you needed to make one thing clear.

,,Not in the way you might fear, not above due to my father’s title. We don’t belong together since we have different ideas of freedom, not to mention of a good life’’, said you.

You told him the entire system of men dictating others people lifes, telling them who to fight and who to worship, started to make you even sicker now that your father planned to work you into this web of blood and suppression.

Marcus listened to your words with attentively ears, his heart was arching in pity and bitterness – you had no idea what a man he was, nor had you any clue how this world really worked. And still your heart carried pure intentions.

Once again, he sighed deeply out unsure how to show you that he wasn’t a threat to you, that you needed to form an alliance, for your own sake and his.

While figuring his confincing answer out he ever so slightly bowed down that his hand landed on you to bring the dresses string back up on your damp shoulder, but you turned away. You still looked far from a senators daughter, a dirty dress, tired eyes and drenched in sea water, still shaking.

He wasn’t given any chance to further secure his safety but a threat to lose his reputation.

,,Fix me all you won’t – I know what your intentions are, I will rebel- until you all let me fall out of this system’’ revealing your plans with a promising voice.

Marcus was aware of the two soldiers in front of his tent listening. He was aware that every act of you dared to endanger his further ascent.

Then it dawned on him- your nobles were different your status inherited – you could rebel all of want it would never change your picture – only he could do that by either letting you let him appear without any control or turn it around, proofing again that he was worthy of his status, his life among the winners.

If you were so keen to rebel, he would demonstrate you, how your plan would work out in reality. His motions became just as fast and unyielding like back in the sea when he had reached you and brought you back. Now he carried you inside his tent, just like he should have earlier.

Your trashed around but he didn’t care, even lesser when he had saved your life. Sorrow of an unrequited affection mixed with the fight to survive.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Once inside, Marcus threw you onto the bed that stood in the middle of the room. The cushions and warmness of the tent had no effect on you when you realized how the general looked at you now.

His face was covered in red anger, almost just as red as the tent’s walls .You didn’t dare to move an inch, he circled you like you were prey.

In controlled but strong motions he got ride of the armor, never breaking eye contact with you, like he pined you on the spot with his watch. His armors gave dull deep sounds from it whenever he ripped it further off of him, until he just stood in his tunic there.

,,I’m not doing anything with you, I’m not your wife’’, you said, sliding over the shiny ivory blankets to keep the distance.

Although your back had reached the other edge of the bed the rest of your body wasn’t fast enough. In one quick motion Marcus had griped around your ankle, as if he had caught a snake and now shoved you back to him. Your entire body glided over the soft bed directly under Marcus’ body, his broad arms caging you in.

The steadily turn in his behavior started to make your heart skip beats- this was the price, you thought. His fingers run along your cheek before squishing both together, his eyes fixed on your lips.

You wanted to repeat yourself, but it was useless, Marcus’ broad hand gripped your entire jaw even more when you attempted to.

,,I know- but I will do a lot of things to you. Have it your way, but nothing stops me from having my way with a caught rebel’’ Marcus said and with that his hands landed on your dress and tore it off from your body.

The revelation of his plan made your stomach twist. You cried out in protest, tried to cover your bare body from the general but he was too strong. One hand was enough to lock your hands above your head, while the other one pulled the last remaining piece of fabric slowly away from torso, revealing not only your breasts but also how rapidly you breathed in and out.

Poor thing, Marcus thought, asking what you have gotten yourself into, what you forced him to be.

Now he saw your fear and yet he bathed in the view below him. His promised wife already bare underneath him, even prettier than imagined. His free hand stroked its way up to your neck, his finger tips only dared to cross over your nipples, slowly starting to play out his strategy, watching you closely, looking for the moment inside you where you would give up and demand your title back.

But you didn’t say a thing.

,,Open up", he said deadly not letting room to think about his instruction by already forcing two fingers past your lips.

He made you lick his fingers, watching your small tongue draw around them so shyly. Your lips twitched like they would tell him that you finally gave in, but they never did.

This would be everything than soft, but Marcus had to proof his point.

,,No wait I’m not ready, you can’t just-’’ you said once it dawned on you what he was up to, your now free hands griped around his ribs to stop him.

,,Only my wife deserves preparations, rebels however only serve me for one purpose’’, said Marcus and underlined his point by stretching his first finger between your pink folds, watching your face twitch.

His spit covered fingers run through your pink folds, your thighs shaking together again and again, when his fingers rubbed pragmatically circles over your clit. In some way Marcus started to find his pleasure with this situation as shaking curse reached his ears. He would have you scream in other feelings soon.

,,Isn’t this what your cunt is used to? Being used by every men that you cross in the streets’’, he said. ,,Thinking you’re something special?’’ he mocked you in false pity while searching for the spot that made you cry out for him. Fuck, using your stupid plan against you felt so good, knowing he was right, that he was in charge again.

He rubbed all the right spots inside you angrily making sure to remember them- that was all he needed for now. In one swift motion his arms griped you on your hips and flipped you over, having your plush hips bounce so hypnotically in front of him. Marcus had to fought for his own control not to get to lost in this act.

You pressed your lips together bracing yourself for what was to come, when you felt his big hand on your back, pressing it down in the sheets. Cold air caressed your core when you arched your ass more up, not that you wanted to – Marcus’ hand let you bend down until an uncomfortable groan left your lips involuntary.

Not paying attention to it, Marcus’ hands griped around your cheeks, that glowed so warmly in this light, pulling them apart to have a better look at you. With a groan he let his thumb run over your shiny pink folds, that still pulsated so suprised and eagerly ---you looked more than tempting, so hot yet so innocent. Why did you need to be such a brat and turn this into a lesson for yourself? - he was rather interested in ruining you, introducing you to the pleasures a man could offer his wife.

His hand ran over his hard cock, while his other hand took hold of your hips.

,,You still want to act like a brat? Not having enough?’’, he asked, in some way hoping you would finally drop your act, in some other way enjoying his act a bit too much.

Stubborn as you were you just shook your head.

His trip pressed against your core and you panicked, even more, when he moved further inside you.

,,You asked for this, now take it’’, he said still spreading you further open although you had hoped he would give you a moment but his hips snapped right up. No words left your mouth to let you give in.

Only a loud groan eventually slipped past your lips and with it came an even deeper smack of Marcus’ hips against your skin, letting you choke on your cries.

,,And now? Still so keen?’’ he asked, stilling his movement for a second, but it was useless, your walls pulsated around him, like you were in pain, a sweet pain. You couldn’t focus, nor could you talk properly. Nevertheless you shook your head no once more. 

He could feel how your little pussy struggled to take all of him in and hear your heavy breathing through your teeth. Your throat busy to swallow all those upcoming moans down he could fell under he palm that still pressed your neck into the bed. He felt a stroke of pity for you, before getting lost again in the feeling of your virgin pussy and more so of the power he had now. A smug grin crowned his lips when his hand came down to smack across your ass cheek and he immediately silenced your cursing words with another snap of his hips.

,,You are not the one demanding here – you just take what I give you, take it like the whore you are’’, he said. Your hot breath ran over his arm in an suppressed whimper, swallowing your anger down again. A satisfied groan left him and he pounce once again into you fuelled by power. This was still a lesson for you, but damn it he got lost in this fantasy.

Having the daughter of a senator as his bride was one thing, but fucking her merciless in his tent was another thing.

By the time he has completely stretched you out, he looked down on his price. A high-pitched moan reached his ears when he found the spots again that drove you wild, sounding just as good as the cheering of the crowds. He was about to win this, you already laid on the ground, filled with his cock despite your pride , now he only needed to pounce on his prey.

Even he needed a moment, to control himself. It would feed your ego to know your walls choked his cock like a viper, a low chuckled escaped him, having to imagine your sweet face light up in pride again. There was something about you being so eager to top him. Maybe he would allow you one day to feel like this, that you were the one in charge. But this had to wait. His hand reached around your shoulder, your skin burning into his palm. A moment later he started pounding into you with quick movements, rubbing all your sweet spots again at once, again and again, his body slapping against your clit.

A shaking moan, that almost sounded like a plea to stop came from you. This was all too much your body shaked in ecstasy. You wanted to wiggle yourself away but the hand on your shoulder shoved the general right back inside of you letting you scream out.

,,Hush! Just let it consume you’’, he said still sternly, although his words sounded like an advice, like a wish.

Still, he didn’t change his pace. He focused on the spots that let you cry out the loudest until you griped him so tightly, he couldn’t hold back anymore, groaning his own pleasure out.

,,Ssst-’’, was all your mouth could bring out, your voice shivering due to the pushes of Marcus' hips. Gods, it felt so good, too good but you were scared of those unfamiliar feelings inside you. You gathered up your strength to press an arm out with the hopes to push him away from you but it was useless.

Marcus even speed up, more and more, with each trust reaching his release further.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Your hair felt so soft when he grabbed a fistful of it to bring you up to him, your sweat covered back slamming against his chest. For a moment you saw this as an opportunity to fight him off, but his hands were too fast, too strong, too tempting, when one grabbed one of your full tits while the other held your head so effortlessly next to his. He didn't let you go you were his by now already. His soft hums warming your scalp.

To balance yourself you cold only take a hold of Marcus’ arm and within a moment he let go of your breast to press it gently, so that it vanished completely in his warm palm- he was so big and he was everywhere.

If you weren't so sense drunk you would have heard Marcus softly hushing you in an attempt to calm your hickuping whimpers down, encouraging to give in.

,,You’re not letting me have this without you, you will come for me, understood? Show me how much you enjoy this, when I claim you like this’’, his lips were so close, right next to your ear. His voice full of authority,that broke only after Marcus had pushed so hard into you he himself had to moan out load. Your sounds mixed together, one crying out of pure ecstasy for his upcoming win and one for her upcoming defeat.

Another sharp movement had you scream out of terror when you felt the knot inside you daring to snap. You had no idea what he did to you. But you denied yourself this pleasure, this forbidden pleasure that would weaken your point you had fought to make.

But he made it so hard, especially when he pushed you back into the mattress again and spun you around. His arms pressed your knees up to your chest his hips never stopping his by now slower slaps.

You hid your wanting moans behind scared breathing when images of him grabbing your breasts again in his palms and suck on them rushed through your mind. you couldn’t keep looking into his ever so stern gaze with such thoughts in your head, letting your eyes rather fall back and by that offering him your chest even more, secretly beging more and more for the general.

Something inside you was about to break, you felt it in your womb, in the way your walls felt like they couldn’t hold anything together. Was this pain or pleasure? Marcus seemed to read your thoughts.

,,I know, I know. Keep breathing for me, let me hear you, let me know what feels good’’, he said, letting his act slip for the sake of your pleasure, for the sake to have this work out. His eyes soft and eager when he tried have you look at him.

All your senses were fixed on him, his voice alone was enough to look back up to him. But this was a mistake. First you only had eyes for his broad sweat covered arms that spread your knees apart, then the damp locks on his forhead. But when your gazes met he had possesed your mind as well, like he could read every sensation off of your gaze.

Longer moans espaced your lips more freely, Marcus' fingers slapped and caressed your core, playing you like an instrument now decided over your senses. First you thought he mocked you when he seemed to immitate your deep groans but he was getting just as lost in your pleasure as you did. Every choked out groan was answered with an deeper moan of him, demonstrating how to let go. By now you could even feel his breath on your chest, he was so close taking in every inch of your body.

,,There she is, good Y/N, show me you're smart enough to listen to me’’, Marcus said, watching you coming closer and closer, completely cock drunk by now. You squeezed him tighter with those words a slight smile of suprise around your rounded lips, mirroring how you let lose further. And just before he fell over the edge, ready to drag you with him, he spoke those words, to let them burn into your future memories when giving in.

,,You can chose to be treated in this bond as the noble wife of a general or as a rebellious whore from the streets – chose what suits your mood, live in this victim phantasy, but it won’t change how we both appear outside nor stop our bonding- never. This is only for you. As for me- I can live with either decision’’, Marcus pressed his words through his teeth directly into your ear , not holding back anymore kissing your neck deeply to taste your skin for the first time properly. His tongue felt thick against your throat, when it dragged along the spots where his teeth had scratched along, when he rode your pleasure out.

Bitter defeat washed over your body mixing with the pleasure you had bathed in a moment before. Marcus noticed your teared up gaze, fixed on the ceiling. No matter if it was your pleasure or your suffering – it all belonged to Marcus. You were his already.

,,Don’t zone out now, talk to me’’, Marcus said, his hips still slowly pumping into you, finding a rhythm to keep you focused on him.

,,I hate you, so much, sooo- agghh-" the general pushed his hips hard against yours, keeping pressure on all the right spots at once, having you moan for more. White pleasure ran through you, your stern act fell apart completely. Still overwhelmed by your senses your thighs tried to kick the general away, in an last weak attempt and yet even this felt good, when the general tssked at you his teeth finding your nipple. Now even your cries couldnt hid your pleasure it all became so twisted. For a moment you played with the thought to just give in, hoping to get at least some pleasure.

,,Don’t stop, use your words. Why is my whore crying?’’, asked Marcus one hand moved up to your face, forcing you to keep eye contact with him, his hips never stopping, ready to force a second orgasm over you to demonstrate that your body was his by now if needed.

It was so obvious! You told him everything; you hated this arrangement, the fights in the arenas, the entire system of suppression.

,,And especially you! You are the thing that won’t let me have my peace. You are just as awful as the rest, despite your titles’’, you said through your teeth.

That made the general stop all at once. He stilled himself his brown eyes just as heavy when he had reached you in the water.

,,You don’t know me at all. Nor do you even know how this world works don’t you?’’ he finally said his thoughts out loud, more like a sad confession as a pitiful fact.

With that Marcus shared in brief sentences his story, how exactly he became a general, how he had to fight tirelessly in the colosseum earning him freedom and respect for a high price. His breath crossed softly over your face. By now you breathed just as slowly and deep like him.

,,What do you think is the idea of those rebels you look up to?’’ Marcus asked you, his voice so low like he was revealing a secret. A deep hum later his fingers flew under your chin, hoping his words could finally reach your sanity.

,,They just want what we already have. Why should you start at new when you are already where you will long to be then? Let us become a team, let us have an impact in this world’’, Marcus said.

You looked at him with puzzled eyes, not ever breaking the eye contact. Marcus then took your hand in his and laid a gentle kiss on your knuckles, as an offering. Taking a deep breath while doing so, he was so close to win.

,,Let me show you how things can be with me in an alliance’’ he said coaxing you slowly under his control, in other ways he could offer, besides sex. Sex was for lessons words for the bonding. You were in need of both so his hips ever so carefully pushed back up, hitting a soft spot inside of you he already had made out as one of your weaknesses.

Fueled by curiosity you let him repeat his movements until he demanded an answer. His eyes caught how your lips dared to round into a moan again.

,,Use your words Y/N, what shall it be?’’, he asked, his breath against your cheeks then neck, fingers moving around your jaw, no squishing anymore, only holding you close to him.  

,,Ye- yes’’, you said, dragging the word out like trying to get used to this word.

,,Yes- what?’’, asked Marcus bucking slightly up, his fingers never letting go of your face. You were so close, so close of being finally under his control. Unable to threat anything he wanted to safe for himself and you.

An ashamed moan left your lips at first, letting Marcus shut his eyes tightly. Hells you felt so good. He prayed to the gods to have you finally give in. He wanted to fuck his wife, not just a whore.

,,Yes general’’, you said eventually, your cheeks burning from overcome pride.

Something in Marcus seemed to have switched. His face softened; his chest rose up broadly against your torso before his lips pressed against your, already opened up from his breathing, taking a first taste of you as his own.

,,Call me Marcus’’, he said after your lips parted once you petted his shoulders asking for air again.

You called the general by his name, sending a pleasant feeling over him.

,,Very good Y/N- now let us work on our alliance’’, he said.

Part Two?!

thanks for the dividers! dear @nicodefresas

[bones4thecats]

Diasomnia with their Fae! Knight! S/O

Type of Writing: Poll Result Characters: Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver, and Sebek Zigvolt Name: Diasomnia with their Fae! Knight! S/O Original Poll Link: Here

A/N: I'm sorry that this took a while to post, I just finished with a larger thing with my family, so. But, anyways, I do hope you all enjoy this, and look out, on Sunday, January 7th, 2024, requests will open for an hour. I'll put out an announcement when it happens! Enjoy, my lil bubbles🫧

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🐉 Okay, the entirety of Diasomnia is shocked

🐉 You were the personal guard of Malleus', being sent everywhere he went, and because of this situation pushed upon you both, conversations were the only thing keeping the atmosphere from fogging up with awkwardness

🐉 Malleus asked you about your home life, so hearing how you descended from a army-covered family of faes, he just smiled and chuckled as you told stories on how strong, yet dumb they were

🐉 He loves to watch you spar with Silver and Sebek, trying to help Lilia teach them, though, since you weren't used to being delicate when fighting, you nearly always ended up on the ground apologizing as you tried healing a small bruise of cut you gave them

🐉 Both you and Malleus have an understanding because of your roles, do not let your feelings overwhelm your jobs, since that could result in people using you against each other, seeing weakness

🐉 You definitely have had to deal with Leona, so while he tried threatening Malleus one day, you grabbed your sword and held it to his throat, making him stiffen and the rest of the group freeze with awkward facial expressions

🐉 You may be rough around the edges, but Malleus likes that about you, and if someone tried harming you, he'd have their heads, and you'd do the same for him, no doubt

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🦇 He and you served together during the Human vs Fae war long ago

🦇 You were one of the higher-ranked army members during battle, and you two were known as the 'Blood-Bathers', but, despite how the humans you slayed viewed you both, you cared for one another with a ton of passion

🦇 When Lilia found Malleus' egg, you helped him raise the future-ruler, from helping him control his magic, to helping him gain information on fighting and the outside world, you were there just as much as Lilia was

🦇 Lilia also watched as you laughed when Malleus burned his bangs, just staring at you with a face frozen in betrayal and shock before tackling you and messing up your hair as Malleus laughed

🦇 You may be a knight, but you had just as much of a sense of humor as your husband, from dad-jokes to puns, you both slayed people with them

🦇 Your husband loves to watch you get along with Silver, treating him like your own despite you both knowing he wasn't, and watching you train with him made Lilia feel like his whole life and the reason he survived everything from his past was just to be here, watching you and his family grow

🦇 Lilia also loves to spar with you himself, and watching the three boy's faces all erupt with sparkles and admiration to the two of you, watching as you battled, it was like you were in a dance, flowing together like the soulmates you were

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⚔️ Silver met you because of your chosen occupations, being a knight

⚔️ He loves to train with you, watching you hold your sword in your hands was amazing to him, and seeing how you flowed with the weapon like you were one was amazing to him

⚔️ This guy absolutely refuses to give up on your relationship, despite knowing you were going to outlive him, since he was a human with a limited lifespan, while you were a fae with a limitless one

⚔️ Many see you guys as the sleepy soulmates, as after doing literally anything, you guys would rest underneath a tree with animals surrounding you

⚔️ You are a very good fighter, one that even puts Lilia in the need for effort when sparring, and your boyfriend loves seeing how his adoptive father smiles and pats your head with such care when your able to knock him off his feet

⚔️ Silver will try staying up and watch you help train new first years with their magic, but, unsurprisingly, he falls asleep, prompting you to carry him like a princess back to your dorm-rooms

⚔️ Being a knight, you wake up early, and since your lovely boyfriend here has many sleeping issues, he pins you down and makes you sleep longer than normal

⚔️ Malleus, Lilia, and Sebek all love watching Silver hug you from behind and rest while you glare at those who call him pathetic and a disgrace to the dorm for being human, you really were meant for him, huh?

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⚡ Sebek was nervous when he first met you

⚡ You were a very well-respected knight within Briar Valley's army, so, being a trainee and you being quite popular among your peers, it made him feel lesser, and he hates that

⚡ He watched as you stood beside Malleus, sending threatening glares to others who dared try harming him, verbally or physically

⚡ Unlike Sebek, you did not express your emotions as passionately, and, funnily enough, that was what got you interested in him, as not many of your fellow knights knew how to express themselves very well

⚡ He gets flustered every time you pinned him down, as you smirked and would tease him with your fangs showing

⚡ You teased others like Lilia, but, you only showed your real emotions to those you cared for, and for Sebek, you showed everything you felt to him

⚡ For some reason, every time he watches you grit your teeth with your fangs showing, he feels ashamed of himself, since he was a half-human, half-fae, while you were a pureblood

⚡ Due to this, you comfort him when he feels weaker than others. He may be a half-blood, but, as you tell him

" I love you for you, not for your percentage of fae-blood. You are an amazing being, loud, but amazing... and I love you for that, Sebek. "

[zvezdacito]

Tbh I think a lot of people downplay the stakes Malleus is in that makes him overblot as just surface level loneliness by itself and that's why they think his overblot is unwarranted/annoying compared to the other six. It makes sense he jumps to such drastic measures to avoid facing whatever comes next because whatever it is will last not just a few years but literally a millennium + either way because of multiple systemic reasons he knows he's not just gonna be able to connect with a bunch of new people/explore a bunch of new experiences to make up for it.

Compared to other overblotters, it seems no matter what course of action Malleus will end up in a bad ending since he's a species seemingly among the few left of his kind while also being biologically predisposed to outliving everyone. It's as if he can never have a happy ending as long as he's himself, or that as a king (and symbolic "lord of all villains") his happiness will only come at the cost of others'.

I feel like a lot of people also give him the entire blame of his failures to connect properly with his peers. When even before they knew about his impulsivity or lack of cognitive empathy people were already jumping to conclusions about him. (Said mindsets came about from internalizing the depersonalization he was raised with, he's the sole heir of a country battered by colonization who place very high expectations on him to be a symbol of hope for them again after all)

Assuming the worse because of his powers, the reputation that came from it, and because of (the once again systemic issue) humans and people outside the Briar Valley barely knowing anything about/only having stereotypical rumors to go off the nocturnal fae who closed themselves off to try and stop humans from invading them more💀

So yeah givevn all of this Malleus was a ticking time bomb and even then he was about to just stand down and put his own feelings aside until he became accidentally convinced there was a way that didn't have to exclude him. It's an unfortunate clash of circumstances between different people and that's what TWST is all about. So yeah idk just kinda baffling some people are unironically out there saying things like "Malleus should've just held himself together for one night that's so selfish" when it's kinda made extremely clear by the story there's way more leading to the characters' making choices than that

From an outside point of view as the audience of course there are obvious steps Malleus could take to make the most out of what he has and to not inadvertently be a prick to others, but it pretty obvious why in his shoes it's not really feasible rn lol. Other than these things I could think of at the top of my head, a lot of the things people single him out as especially selfish or unreasonable for are things the other overblotters and characters in general also do lol.

> Like the class dynamics at play? NRC is literally rich boy central many characters express some kind of class privelege

> Not receiving consequences for his actions? This is a staple twst writing flaw for all its stories in general, most overblotters have gotten a slap on the wrist/their actions relatively covered up by the end. And Fellow legit just walks away from an undisclosed time of human trafficking like it was no big deal😭

Ironically Malleus will probably be the first overblotter to not have his actions hidden to only a select circle of people and receive severe repercussions for it because someone like him "should've been above that".

But yeah sometimes I feel like the extent of how some factors in Malleus's background, upbringing and environment determine his way of thinking and why he thinks he needs to do certain things is underestimated by the fandom and only the surface level of what he's doing is focused on which results in some people talking about his character and his flaws in a very dismissive way idk

[teyvats-worst-hero]

Poker Posting:

Poker isn’t luck-based actually

Not enough posts about Aventurine’s sunglasses not only being a way to conceal his heritage, but being emblematic of him as a gambler.

Lots of poker players wear sunglasses to conceal their expressions, build a persona, watch other players discreetly, etc etc.

Also not enough posts about how many common card games associated with gamblers aren’t really luck based, they’re based on probability and cold reading. That’s not luck, that’s social psychology and mathematics. Just like calculating expected value to determine if a risk is worth it. Poker, Blackjack… Seriously. There’s a reason why a STEM professor would be impressed by him.

The games that Aventurine defines himself by, he claims as luck. They’re not. They’re absolutely not. I’d posit that there’s even a way to rig every one of those games in his favor, if not literally than figuratively/thematically.

The first way is a funny thing that I thought of in conjunction with my first comment.

I’ve seen some talk before, no comment on whether it actually works, of certain sunglasses that are designed to see UV markings on cards. AKA cheating by knowing which card is which.

While that would be hilarious, it doesn’t really fit his vaguely suicidal character always wondering if this is the last time.

The other way is absolutely in line with his story.

Aventurine, over the course of his life, has learned to count cards.

Why does no one ever bring this up????? It’s SO on brand.

Counting cards is a skill of knowing probability, and mentally calculating what cards everyone could feasibly have based on your hand and whatever community cards are there. Some games ban it, some don’t, some casinos might get upset, some won’t. But if you know how to do it, you have an incredible edge over your opponents by just eliminating some possibilities every round.

Aventurine doesn’t really believe he got to where he is on his own merit. He believes it’s a luck game that he inexplicably keeps winning, and he’s always wondering whether it’ll be the last time. But the reality of it is that he’s trained himself to see the patterns behind everything, he knows what the probability is of his opponent having a flush.

But it’s a luck game.

So it must be luck.

Now, obviously, that does have some bearing on the outcome. What cards are drawn is up to date. But the second part of poker (I don’t play Blackjack don’t @ me) is bluffing, raising, acting. That’s another skill. Also not luck. So what luck doesn’t give him, he carves out for himself.

He knew he could outlive the birds. He knew the IPC would have an interest in him. When the cards were all wrong, he bluffed his way to the very top.

(So yeah, that’s my take on Aventurine apparently. This just started as a brain dump about how no one talks about the practical uses of sunglasses on a gambler-)

[dadoodler25]

It's really funny how in Mortal Kombat everyone makes fun of Johnny Cage, saying he's full of shit and lame, unskilled because he brags a lot when:

He's outlived nearly the entire cast, even his own wife

He's a legitimately skilled fighter who's beaten tough people like Sonya, Kano and Kenshi

He has a power that can harm Elder Gods, meaning he's basically a god-killer

He's still a really good person who'll do the right thing, even if he acts like a dick

Sure, he flirts, but he backs off when they don't want him

In the new MK1, not only is he a history buff who knew all about Kenshi's clan, but in an intro against Geras, he's actually got a PhD in Quantum Mechanics, and his mom was apparently a cop so he knew about every law

He made a story about everyone in his adventure

In MK1 defeated Bi-Han and Kuai Liang simultaneously, without getting hit by ice-magic or a kunai, and let me remind you, Johnny thought that everything until the whole thing was a prank.

He also joined the military

In the comics, he was revealed to be a better parent than Sonya

[idontknowreallywhy]

The Last of Them

Not quite sure what this is… it started as a little tribute to David Graham who, while maybe most famous for voicing Parker twice, also brought original Gordon to life.

Then it developed a life of its own and I’m not entirely sure what it became - by its very nature it refers to multiple major character deaths but they are all very old. So I hope it is ok. Maybe don’t read if you’re feeling fragile!

I put them in order of the VAs passing because that seemed right in the circumstances. Apologies if that means it is The Wrong Order for how you imagine it.

💛💛💛💛💛💛💙💚🧡❤️💛💛💛💛💛💛

He never expected to be The Last.

They’d all lived to a good age. They’d all achieved what they wanted to achieve.

But even Tracys didn’t live forever. And Gordon had not expected to be The Last.

Virgil had been first. He was never first at anything and this had been absolutely the last race Scott ever wanted to be beaten in. He took it as a personal affront that the universe seemed to want to run the curtain calls out of order.

Secretly, Gordon believed it had been a stroke of luck. In retrospect, he had been relieved. He knew his tender-hearted brother would have struggled the most at having to say goodbye to one of them and carry on. Gordon knew more than any of them, more than Scott, perhaps even than the man himself, how heavily Virgil carried the burden of attending Scott’s first (thankfully premature) funeral and that his darkest fears had always been centred on doing that again. Perhaps that had been why he’d refused the more experimental, increasingly desperate treatments Scott was lining up. He’d said he was happy, he was content and wanted to face the next adventure at home with his family, ALL of his family, not in a bubble in San Francisco.

Even now, when he closed his eyes, Gordon could still feel that last hand squeeze. Could still hear that rumbling voice telling him he’d done good today. He’d had his brother’s last little throwaway gift - a sketch of a grizzly bear with a squid clinging to its face - engraved at 5x scale on to a steel plate.

As time passed, the voice in his memory became younger, the eyebrows darker.

Scott himself had faltered, hard. But eventually, with the assistance of a horde of grandchildren and great grandchildren, had refocused and thrown himself into the role of patriarch that he’d been reluctant to embrace since Dad had passed. He’d lavished all his vast stores of energy on the subsequent generations as if determined they would know how much he cared before it was too late.

Scott hadn’t expected to outlive TinTin, John or Penny either. But the universe kept shuffling the deck of cards until Grandpa Scott finally gave his last cheeky salute and went to find them.

And then there were two. And Gordon was the oldest. Which had been weird, although expected.

Alan had always hated being the last.

When Gordon had poked his head around the door as the doctor left, his baby brother had been serious, staring out of the window. He’d swallowed and walked quietly over to his bedside but as soon as Gordon had been within reach Alan had turned and punched him in the shoulder and smirked that same irritating little brother smirk he’d smirked for over eight decades:

“Tag!”

Gordon had blamed the tears on tiny, weedy child-knuckles faintly bruising his broad, masculine shoulders.

Alan had just cackled.

Gordon had never expected to be The Last.

But so it had been.

Sometimes the media people dared him to reveal his secret. As if somehow he’d achieved something his brothers had not… As if they had missed a trick… he would look them dead in the eye and swear he’d spliced his DNA with a bowhead whale. At which point they’d usually smile awkwardly, check their notes for references to dementia then back away from the stupid, stupid questions.

He had never expected to be The Last, but as The Last, he had become all of them.

When four generations sat round and told stories of the Tracy family, he was the guardian of the old ones. The original ones. The ones they all knew but pretended not to notice him embellishing. How Scott was faster, Virgil stronger, John more all-knowing, Alan more daring every time the tales were retold.

To the world at large he was a kind of talisman. Whenever IR was mentioned in the media, it became Gordon’s image that was used. Despite having never been in command of either IR or TI, it was his comment people wanted. So he would give one, often irreverent or purely nonsensical and with the same wink his eldest brother had been famous for. It was genetic, after all.

He played unpredictable and eccentric old billionaire nearly as well as he played crazy sentimental Grandpa.

As long as they didn’t ask the stupid questions. He had spent a little while in the pool, gently washing off the lingering taint of today’s holo-interview appearance on some news show. He always did them when asked, the Tracys positive reputation enabled the family to do a lot of good on a global scale and cute old guy Gordon apparently helped. It wasn’t a lot to ask. Scott would have done it, so, therefore, did Gordon. And he would carry on, as long as he had all his marbles. And then maybe just a little longer… to wind them all up.

He sighed. However he might suggest that stricter pre-screening was going to be needed in future.

“So, Mr Tracy, how does it feel to be the last of the old guard?”

He’d swallowed the bitter “How do you think?” The questioner had looked about twelve, they had no idea. No idea how it stung. So he’d called it an honour. Then shifted quickly to the agreed script about their campaign to make Safety and First Aid a compulsory part of the school curriculum in many countries.

Yes, a little more consideration for the ancient squid-man’s lonely heart wouldn’t go amiss. EOS would sort it. He liked EOS. She still got his pop culture references and she hadn’t locked him out of anywhere for years.

His minder for the pool excursion - one of Scott’s great grandkids… or possibly John’s… he was beginning to lose track - patted him on the hand and left him tucked up warmly in a fluffy robe on a lounger to watch the sunset.

Goodness he was tired.

He yawned and wriggled a little, then smiled to himself at the sound of the kids coming out on to the deck arguing about something or other. Alan’s traditional shriek as Virgil yeeted him into the pool was followed swiftly by the combined laughter of the elder trio who claimed the loungers beside and behind Gordon. A count of five, then the littlest bro had his revenge by leaping atop Virgil and soaking him before stealing half of Gordon’s robe and the majority of his elbow room.

Too contented to really complain, Gordon slung an arm over the soggy teen and let his brothers’ voices surround him as he drifted off to sleep.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Okay here's one. I really dont think I'm the asshole but my ex sure does.

AITA for refusing to buy my partner a jar of pickles?

So this story has like, a little background and some confounding factors i think but i really could go both ways on whether i was the asshole.

Ill start with both my ex (21nb) and i (23f) had severe mental health issues and were working on treatment when we were together. Theyd been in and out of inpatient stays throughout our three year relationship. Towards the Day of Pickles, i had my first inpatient stay where i got help i desperately needed to keep myself safe. This happened to be about a week after my 23rd birthday, but about two and a half weeks before their 21st birthday.

Anyway, at that time i had just gotten out of the hospital and started a new job at Joanns Fabrics (i outlived that retail fucker and im proud of it). I had been unemployed for the previous year and a half because of the pandemic and so the retail job was really my saving grace to have some sort of income to buy gas and groceries. My parents let me live rent free with them in their basement but i spent a LOT of time essentially squatting at my ex's dorm because my situation with my parents was not great.

Now my ex was also being financially abused by their mom so they had a monthly "allowance" of 200$ (of their own money they made at their on campus job) and no access to their bank statements. So i spent a lot of my own money on gas and groceries for both of us, and anything we wanted to do for fun, like visit the city. Without an income, this was SUPER stressful for me and i spiraled pretty hard with feelings of worthlessness and hopelessness. Supporting two people, even minimal living expenses, on an income of exactly 0$ is the WORST.

Anyway, i got out of the hospital and pretty much immediately went back to picking up as many shifts as i could at work because id been on staff for all of two weeks before hospitalization. Knowing retail, i was probably on the precipice of losing hours or being fired altogether.

My ex wanted me to take time off to celebrate their 21st birthday (they didnt celebrate my birthday that year) and travel to see their family and drink etc. I got scheduled for an inconvenient time. I would have to miss their birthday if i didnt find someone to cover. I managed to switch shifts with another coworker who was nice enough to let me have her morning shift, so i was able to at least travel separately and be a little late to dinner.

The night of their birthday my ex wanted to get drunk and so we went to the liquor store. Now im generally pretty picky about alcohol but if i get anything special i always get enough to share. Mysteriously, no one ever offers to share the expense or pay me back. So with all of 150$ in my account, i purchased enough alcohol for myself and the rest of the party, and a bottle of (cheap af) liquor for myself. I was broke af until my next paycheck and was pretty much planning on giving up meals and staying at home because the commute to work was shorter and meant less gas.

My ex picked out a jar of boozy pickles and asked if i would get it for them for their birthday. I should note that with all the stress i was under i had found a birthday present for them but hadnt actually placed the order (was waiting to get paid). I also didnt lie to them about this and had told them that i hadnt gotten their birthday present yet. They were upset by this and told me they felt like i didnt care about them, to which i snapped and raised my voice a little.

I gave them a bit of a reality check. I told them in no uncertain terms that i was under a lot of stress, from nearly killing myself to being flat broke with little to no help from my family other than a conditional roof over my head, ordering their birthday present wasnt super high on my list of things to do and that i knew what i was going to get them and that i intended to order it as soon as i had the money to do so. After years of the sole attention being focused on keeping them alive, i needed some support and acting like i didnt care completely ignored EVERYTHING i did to keep us both afloat.They cried and played the victim as they tended to do and i was too stressed to do anything but be angry.

So when they asked for the pickles i told them no. I have NOTHING left in my bank account, and anything that was in my account was already allocated for something else.

They told me i was being selfish for buying myself alcohol on THEIR birthday, not even getting them a present, yelling at them, and then refusing to buy the one thing they asked for, especially after i refused to take off work the day before to hang out with them and their family. In front of our friends.

I told them that i was purchasing the alcohol for the whole party, that the present had slipped my mind, and that they were accusing me of not caring about them when i snapped. Then i walked out.

My bff went outside to help me cool down and i told him what was going on and how stressed i was and he said that he agreed with me, it was childish to expect me to pay for everything with no help from anyone and then act like im unreasonable for having to put limits on what i can purchase.

My ex ended up getting so pissed by all of this they broke up with me two days later, saying that their birthday was the final straw for them after I'd been so codependent and relying on them too much to survive.

I think its all ridiculous given all of the stress factors i was dealing with at the time. I feel like we're all entitled to the occasional emotional outburst/bouts of forgetfulness when we're stressed. But my ex seems to think im a selfish asshole. We've been no contact for the last two years so this isnt like a pressing concern or anything but it does make me roll my eyes occasionally.

So tumblr, aita?

(Btw im also much more financially stable now that I'm fully and properly medicated and away from them.)

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Of Truths & Dreams; Sebek Zigvolt

Dreams can tell you a lot about a person. Their wants, their fears. But sometimes they can tell you the truth, and sometimes it isn't pretty.

Supporting Characters; Silver & Professor Trein

Content; Soulmate AU (I call them soul matches though), gender-neutral reader, can be read as familial, platonic, or romantic, enemies-to-friends-to-*insert your relationship here*, reader is done with Sebek's bullshit, bullying Sebek hours (affectionate)

Content Warnings; Talk of death, swearing

Word Count; 5 K

Do not put any of my work into AI, that shit steals. If you do I'm eating your kneecaps.

Prologue & Lilia's Story | Malleus's Story

Sebek knew, even as a young child, that his parents’ marriage would end in heartbreak. That his mother would be left alone for centuries, heartbroken, because of his father’s humanity, because he was mortal. If you know something will only end in heartbreak, why go forth with it? Are a few decades of happiness truly worth it if it will bring centuries of loneliness? 

He used to not think in that light, but the whispers of fellow children, and the look of concern in his grandfather’s eyes upon seeing a single strand of silver in his son-in-law’s hair. His father was ageing, and when compared to the fae, he was ageing rapidly. His mother would still be young when his father would be growing old and senile. That’s what started the seed of bitterness, of resentment, of fear. 

Sebek was scared. He was scared that he may be dealt the same hand of fate; that his lifespan would be short like his father’s. And afraid that he would outlive him by several centuries if he inherited the fae lifespan. Both terrified him, and he was only six. Six years old and sitting on the tire swing that hung from the hawthorn tree, a scowl etched into his forehead. “It isn’t fair,” he muttered under his breath.

“What isn’t fair?” The gentle voice of his father startled Sebek, who fell off the swing. The older man picked him up and dusted off Sebek’s clothes. “There we go, not even a scratch,” he chuckled, ruffling his son’s pastel green hair.

How can he be so happy? Sebek scowled, and he felt a warmness build up in his eyes, tears. “Nothing,” he spat and ran off.

Unlike his mother, Sebek could lie, and it came easier to him than his siblings. It’s because I’m closer to him. And that scared him. It scared him, and he didn’t know why. He loves his father, but his humanity, that scares him. 

Pushing something away is much easier than accepting it, even adults, both human and fae, do it. Keep that fear and hide it away, under a mask of superiority. But the truth will always come out, one way or another.

I hate you! But he didn’t, Sebek loved him, but it was easier to pretend to hate something than to love it and then for it to wither before your very own eyes. 

…

Sebek’s dreams had colour, except for one. It was a mix of fae and human, and a sign from the Thorn Fairy that he had a soul match… but why was there one colour that was missing? His dreams should have been black and white, but the sky overhead was blue, the poppies in the field a brilliant red, and the centres of daisies a cheerful yellow. But one colour was missing, green. Where green should have been, there was nothing but shades of grey.

“Is anybody there?” His voice called out. He could hear his voice, his words weren’t floating in front of him. There was also no one else in the field with him. Sebek was alone. “ANYBODY?!”

He started running, he didn’t know where to, but he needed to get away. So he ran, and he kept on running until he came across a path which forked out into two directions, a crossroad. Sebek needed to choose. Left or right?

On the left, there was a butterfly flitting lazily down the path, whereas on the right was a hornet, its stinger wielded like a sword. The butterfly reminded him of his father, as butterflies do not live for long, and were seen as demure things. The hornet reminded him of his mother and grandfather, fierce and ready to defend; they, and the hornet, were knights. They feared nothing.

Sebek took off running down the right-hand path and kept on running until he came across a familiar castle, the castle where his grandfather worked. The fires glowed grey in Sebek’s eyes, but he knew they must have been green.

“Who are you?”

Sebek startled at the voice and he turned around. Standing behind him was a boy around his age with silvery hair, and lilac eyes. He could clearly make out his face, and his voice. The boy was clearly human, and that irked Sebek; his soul match wasn’t here but this random human child was? Behind him was the butterfly from earlier, glowing white and fluttering about before coming to rest on Sebek’s chest, resting on his heart.

Go away. Leave me alone. But Sebek bit his tongue and marched into the castle. “A future knight,” he boasted, bottling down his true emotions. “I’m going to be a knight. Like my grandfather!”

The boy walked behind Sebek and gave him a sleepy hum. “That’s who you’re going to be,” he said matter of factly, “I asked who are you not who are you going to be.” Not even three minutes of knowing each other, and the relationship between the two children was off to a rocky start.

“Names have power,” Sebek huffed. “How do I know you won’t use it to cross me, human?” He spat out the last word, human, his anger out in the open, his insecurity showing itself. “You tell me yours first.”

The other boy raised a pale brow at the hostility but decided it would just be better to accommodate rather than butt heads. “Silver. And you?”

Sebek huffed, but he could tell that the boy, Silver, was being honest with him. “Sebek.”

Silver offered him a soft smile, his eyes going from the butterfly which was still resting on Sebek’s heart to his face. “It’s nice to meet you, Sebek.”

And then Sebek woke up, blinking his eyes groggily. The only thing he could remember being the castle, his wanting to be a knight, and a butterfly that wouldn’t leave him alone.

…

…

…

The mirror took less than a second to place Sebek into Diasomnia, there was no better or other option. And Sebek was happy, so happy that he could continue serving Malleus, or in his words ‘Young Master’. Scratch that, Sebek was overjoyed. But the ceremony, which should have been perfect, was marred with chaos, because of a human. A magicless human.

Sebek shook his head. Today was good, regardless of the chaos. It should have not mattered, but Sebek couldn’t help but feel that it would have repercussions, a butterfly effect of sorts. It had the hairs on his neck stand on end. He could worry about it more in the morning though, he was of no use to anybody if he didn’t rest.

~

He was on the tire swing in the backyard, slowly going back and forth with the gentle breeze. What am I doing back here?

Usually, his dreams were about training, about being a knight, of protecting the Draconia line… not of childhood places, let alone at his own home. And sitting on the tire with him was the butterfly, still pale and glowing.

“What do you want,” he questioned the insect. 

But the bug paid him no mind and took flight, doing gentle loops around his head. And as Sebek watched the butterfly, he noticed the slow shift in his dream. Everything started to take on a green hue, and the butterfly was now a brilliant pastel green. That could mean only one thing.

They were here. Sebek didn’t really know what to think or feel. On one hand, compared to many, he hadn’t been waiting for very long, which is seen as a kind gesture from the Thorn Fairy. But on the other hand, Sebek was confused about what his colour difference could mean, and why now of all times? He didn’t have the time to go chasing after some random stranger. He had a duty to uphold, and if they got in the way, or possessed to be a danger to his Young Master… well, Sebek knew what he would have to do. 

The air in front of him shimmered. They are just entering the REM part of sleep now. Sebek clenched his fists and righted himself up, standing straight as a board. First impressions meant everything after all, and he for one did not want his first impression to be someone sitting on a tire swing and questioning flying insects. 

The air stopped shimmering, and they appeared in front of him, their appearance hidden because ‘Good things come to those who wait’ according to the Thorn Fairy. 

“Yeah, sure, why not. My day just had to get weirder,” their words floated in front of them, irritated. Sebek could feel their eyes looking him over, inspecting him, judging him. “Who are you supposed to be, huh?”

Sebek wasn’t sure what to expect when he first met his soul match, but he wasn’t expecting someone so… rude. Well, rude in his eyes at least. He felt his eye twitch, but he held together his composure. “I am your soul match!” The words were barked out, but they just floated in the breeze with no volume. The only thing that indicated that Sebek had said it loudly being the exclamation point at the end, as well as the sharpness of the letters.

But his soul match, even though he couldn’t properly make out their face, did not look impressed, and that rubbed him the wrong way. Every fae child grew up waiting in anticipation for their soul match to enter their dreams, to see their coloured hue tint their shared dreams. So why weren’t they more excited? 

“Did you pay any attention to me,” he huffed, still standing at attention, like his grandfather taught him. “I said that I’m your soul match!”

His soul match just brought their hand to their temple and massaged the spot. “I heard… saw? … you the first time, buddy,” they muttered tiredly. “That’s nice, that I’m your ‘soul match’,” they did air quotes around the term, “but I have no idea what that means or why I’m here.”

Sebek felt a lump form in his throat. Fae know about soul matches, even if it was kept secret from the outside world, fae knew. That meant that his soul match wasn’t fae, and other clans knew of the term, which only meant one thing. His soul match is human. 

They were weak and short-lived. Sebek had taught himself to look down on humans years ago, so why now, would the Thorn Fairy make his soul match human? The part of himself that he most feared?

…

…

…

You were running on fumes. Of the meagre sleep you were able to get, you were rudely interrupted by some stranger blathering about how humans were inferior. And quite frankly it pissed you off, royally so. You already got enough shit from everyone else about being magicless in a magic-dependent world, but for your ‘soul match’, someone you barely knew but was supposed to make you happy, constantly berating you for something that you couldn’t change. Yeah, you avoided them at all costs. And when you couldn’t avoid them? Well, you ignored them. It was much easier to ignore someone when you couldn’t actually hear them; all you needed to do was shut your eyes. Could you sleep when you were already sleeping? Well, you were. It was better than paying any attention to your bristly companion.

At least the tree you were resting under was nice, but you could feel your ‘soul match’ staring daggers at you. Cracking an eye open you found them standing as straight and stiff as a board, an air of a scowl surrounding them. 

“Who pissed in your cereal?” 

Your ‘soul match’ reeled back, and you saw a bunch of nonsense spelt out in the air before they controlled themself again, going back to their stiff posture. “THAT IS RUDE AND UNBECOMING TO SAY!” Their words were all capitalized, a sure fire sign that they were yelling at you. But since your first, and honestly disastrous, meeting weeks ago, it had very little effect on you. If anything, it was funny; seeing someone who held themself in such high regard be nothing more than a yappy dog. 

You waved them off, shooing away their words. “You didn’t answer my question though. Did someone piss in your cereal?”

“NO!” They shouted, looking so fed up with you. “You are so… so… so ANNOYING,” they fumbled around with what word to use but finally decided on one. Annoying. “Humans are so annoying! The lot of you!”

And there they went again, on their anti-human tirade again. Seriously, what is their problem? “Better annoying than some stuck up prick,” you countered.

You knew you were playing with fire, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to piss them off. You were tired of playing nice in your waking hours, so in your dreams? You could be as snarky and confrontational as you pleased. Consequences be damned.

They were fuming, and sputtering. “How dare you?! What makes you think you can just act like that?!”

You sighed and got up from your resting spot, and moved over to them. “Because. I. Can.” You poked them, hard, in the chest with each word. “And what makes you think you can act like that? Like an entitled asshole who demeans and belittles others who are different from you?! What is your damage?!”

And right as your soul match was about to answer you, you left the dream, waking up from your own frustration.

Looks like it was yet another night of a restless sleep, only to be met with disappointment and wanting to do nothing more than prove everyone wrong. Prove them wrong about you, and for your soul match, prove them wrong about humans.

…

Understandably, you were not in the best of moods that day. At best you got maybe three hours of rest before you woke up due to pure frustration at your ‘soul match’ and their sour disposition. And it was noticeable, well, noticeable to some people who could pick up the subtle shift. That your smile was a bit too forced, and that you weren’t fully paying attention.

Professor Trein noticed, and Lucius had stayed on your lap throughout the entire class. And as he was walking up and down the aisles, making sure people were actually doing their work, the older man tapped you on the shoulder. “Prefect, a word after class,” it was said quietly enough that you were the only one to hear that, and he went back on patrol.

Shit, was I spacing off? You just hoped that it wasn’t anything serious. The last thing you needed was Crowley finding out about your grades slipping or any other infraction, and getting on your case and bringing up your situation for the nth time. So, the rest of the class seemed to drag on for what felt like forever, even though in reality, there were only fifteen minutes left. But every time you felt the anxiety spike, Lucius would shift in your lap or knead his paws into your uniform, dragging you away from obsessing over it. And finally, the bell rang.

“You guys go on without me,” you said to Ace, Deuce and Grim, shooting them a tired smile. “I’ll catch up with you.”

The trio waved you off, and headed off, leaving you alone with Professor Trein, who was sitting at his desk, preparing for his next lecture.

You took in a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. “You wanted to speak with me, Professor?”

He set his papers down, and motioned for you to take a seat, which you did. This, this meant something bad, you could tell. Why else would he motion for you to take a seat?

“Prefect,” he sighed tiredly, “have you been taking care of yourself?”

Of course he noticed, Trein, unlike your friends, noticed the familiar look. He noticed the tenseness in your shoulders, and the dark shadows under your eyes. Noticed the cheerful air grow weary, which was such a pity. You shouldn’t have to shoulder everything you do, especially while juggling all of the responsibilities and new knowledge that you’ve been acquiring. 

You looked down at your lap, fiddling with your fingers. “No, not really,” you admitted. 

Professor Trein nodded, since he already knew that, even without the confirmation. “I won’t press you for details, but I’ll have a discussion with the others, about lightening your workload. Please, do take care of yourself, Prefect.”

Take care of yourself. That’s something you hadn’t really been doing, what with all the errands, the near-death overblot incidents, and the piss poor sleep you’ve been getting lately because of your ‘soul match’.

“I’ll try.” You couldn’t guarantee anything, but you would try.

“Alright then, that’s a start. Now, off you go, lest you be late,” he collected the papers he needed and adjusted his coat, ready for his next lecture. “Be kind to yourself, Prefect.”

…

…  

Sebek woke up that day irritated. What is your damage?! Who did that human think they were? But that statement irked him more than it really should. He wasn’t harmed, his value and worth was not impaired. So why was he so affected by the phrase? Why should he care so much about what a stranger said to him? Because no matter what, they are still your soul match. He shook his head and marched out of his room, going ahead and performing his morning duties, his mood being apparent, following him like a storm cloud.

Silver noticed this as Sebek came to a stop beside him, ready to greet Malleus. “Something is obviously upsetting you,” he murmured, shooting him a sideways look while still standing at attention.

Sebek glared at Silver out of the corner of his eye, his brow slightly pinched. “It’s none of your business,” he hissed under his breath. The last thing he needed was for the Young Master to catch wind that he was distracted while on the job. Malleus wouldn’t really mind, but Sebek wouldn’t forgive himself for his own ineptitude. 

Silver sighed and turned his eyes back towards Malleus’s door. “It’s better to admit something than bottle it up Sebek. Eventually the truth will come out, one way or another.”

“Now is not the time for that,” Sebek said, trying to control his volume. “And it doesn’t concern you.” It concerns only me and them. 

Silver raised his brow but left well enough alone, he knew better than to egg Sebek on when he was in one of his moods. But he knew that the truth would come out, and he felt like it would rear its ugly head sooner rather than later. He just hoped Sebek didn’t just blow up on the wrong person. Not because Sebek was bad for feeling whatever emotions he was feeling, but because not everyone understood him.

Maybe even Sebek didn’t even understand himself either.

…

…

You and your soul match were back at the house, but instead of standing straight up like they had a stick up their ass, they were sitting in the tire swing, swinging gently back and forth. And the butterfly that always followed them around, was resting comfortably on their chest, right above their heart. Here was this usually grumpy and tall person, swinging on a tire swing, a butterfly on their chest, and it was kind of cute. In a really weird way. But you could tell they weren’t happy, muttering to themself.

Usually, you would poke the bear to get a reaction out of them, but tonight you didn’t want to. You were too tired to put in the effort. Plus in all the weeks of antagonising each other, you hadn’t really gotten to know them.

“Hi,” you said, coming to rest beside the tire swing.

Your soul match — who was in actuality, Sebek —  gave you a curt nod as a hello back. Something was on his mind.

“What did you mean the other day?” He turned to look at you, eyes probing to try and find something that would tell him who you were in the waking world. But your appearance remained fuzzy, except for your eyes, which gleamed softly in the green lighting of the dream. He hadn’t really paid them any attention, but now he was lost in them, and what he saw was tiredness. “What did you mean by, what is my damage?”

Sebek wasn’t angry, which surprised you. You would have thought he would be a thundering storm cloud, but he was more like the cool breeze that came once the storm had passed. And you noticed his eyes, chartreuse with vertical slits. You could have sworn that you had seen those eyes before, you knew those eyes, but the person in mind was evading you.

You sighed, and the butterfly that was resting on his chest took flight, did a loopdeloop, and came to rest over your heart instead. “I don’t know, “ you admitted. “I was angry and tired. My life is just hectic and sleep is usually an escape from that, but instead I found myself in here with you… You didn’t really help either. Kept on looking down on me for being human, so I kinda snapped… I’m sorry.”

Sebek felt his voice get stuck in his throat. I should be the sorry one. But instead he offered his hand to you. A handshake. “Don’t be sorry for your anger; it’s better out than to let it fester.”

You took his answer to heart. It felt weird, the two of you were at each other’s throats for so long, but because of your combined tiredness and realizations, there was a truce of sorts. “So,” you looked Sebek in the eye, “what does this make us?”

He raised a brow, “Well, we are soul matches. The Thorn Fairy decides upon a person who will bring out the best in you, and in turn, you do the same for them.” He scratched the back of his neck. He knew that he had to tell you everything, but it felt like he was doing something wrong; technically this is breaking a rule, but you deserved to know. “We can be anything we want to be. It’s up to us.”

“Huh, that’s nice I guess. That we get to choose what we are. Thought for a second we would be forced together by the narrative to be in a relationship,” you chuckled. But it was nice that you could choose what the two of you were. “For now how about uneasy friends?”

“Uneasy friends?”

“Yeah, ya know I can’t forgive you that easily for dissing my entire species. Kinda hard to forgive that.” Your tone was light, but you were serious. You couldn’t just go from being dearly detested to buddy-buddy with your soul match.

Sebek pursed his lips but he knew that he was in the wrong. “I’m sorry, truly.” And it was genuine. Sebek didn’t hate humans, he loved them, but that love scared him because he knew that they wouldn’t last forever. That you wouldn’t last forever. 

You leaned back, splaying out in the grass. “Well, explanations can wait. I for one want to cloud watch. You wanna join?”

Sebek rolled his eyes but decided to humour you. “What does that cloud look like?” To him it just looked like an odd blob.

“Hmmmm, kinda looks like a crocodile in a blanket burrito,” you mused. And you were kind of right, but it still looked like an odd blob to Sebek.

…

…

…

Things had quieted down in your and Sebek’s dreams, and for the first time in weeks you felt well rested and not like you were going to randomly pass out in alchemy class only to find yourself headfirst in a cauldron. Plus you felt like you could actually get along with your soul match now, but you still liked to bug them just a little bit so the two of you could bicker. It was fun to see their reactions.

“So, if you’re fae, that must mean that you’re super old right?” You had a shiteating grin on your face, and your words floated around their head, poking at them to mirror what you had said.

Sebek rolled his eyes, he had become accustomed to your sense of humour, it was charming in its own bewildering way. “I am not old!”

You bumped his shoulder, “So you’re just a kid? Ew, gross.”

“I AM NOT A CHILD EITHER!” There it is, that spark, like a bolt of lightning. “If you must know, I am attending a mage school! Therefore, I am not old.”

You hummed, thinking. “What school? Maybe we go to the same one? Although I probably would have recognized you, what with your… unique personality and being fae and all. I don’t think I could mistake you for somebody else.”

Sebek faltered. They attend a mage school? “What do you mean by that, human?” 

There was that word again, human, but this time it was said with fondness, without hostility.

“Personality or school?”

Sebek sighed, and massaged his temple. “Why do I feel like you’ll just answer both?”

You sent him a wink, “Because I will!~ Part of my charms.” You chuckled but decided to humour him by getting straight to the point. “Well, even though you can be prickly, you care very deeply. A bit awkward, but in an endearing way. Loud, and opinionated. It would be hard to miss you, ya know. I mean that in a nice way too, by the way.” You stopped, and considered what you were going to say next, as it could mean finding him in the waking world much easier, but you were ready to meet him. “As for the school thing, I go to Night Raven College.”

“WHAT?!” His words were the largest that you had ever seen, and you knew that you probably would have needed to cover your ears if you could actually hear them. “YOU GO TO NIGHT RAVEN COLLEGE?! SINCE WHEN?!”

Sebek was distraught. You were so close but he didn’t even know? How could he be so blind?!

“Judging from your reaction I’m guessing you also go there, huh? Small world after all, I guess.” Your words didn’t reflect how you were actually feeling though, they mirrored Sebek’s perfectly. “Since you’re fae, I’m also guessing that you’re in Diasomnia. Am I right?”

Sebek looked at you, beguiled. “Y-yes! And what of you?!”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Huh, weird. “Looks like that’s a dead giveaway…” you muttered. Seems like the Thorn Fairy wasn’t going to make this easy for the two of you. But you got an idea. “Tomorrow at lunch, meet me in the botanical gardens! By the roses!”

You were snatched out from the land of dreams by your alarm going off, but you knew what you needed to do. You were ready to meet them. You were ready to meet your soul match.

…

…

Sebek was nervous. After so much he was finally going to meet his soul match. He knew he had seen those eyes somewhere before, been subjected to their teasing on several occasions, but the dreams kept your identity secret, shrouded in mystery. But now, now he and you would know. So why was he nervous? You had come to know him in your shared dreams, but Sebek was nervous that you would reject him once you knew who he truly was.

So he had arrived at the botanical garden in a sprint, having run from his class the moment the bell signified it was over. And it was empty, save for the butterflies and other pollinators that flitted about. It gave him time to gather his thoughts, and he paced by the roses, trying to place where he had seen you before. It was all so annoyingly familiar, it was on the tip of his tongue, but your face and name evaded him. Sebek wasn’t used to being nervous.

He had placed nervousness as weakness, as something human. He couldn’t afford to be nervous, not when he had a duty to the crown to fulfil. But maybe being nervous wasn’t bad. Maybe being human wasn’t bad. Yes, they were weak and had their faults, but that’s what made them beautiful. And Sebek realized and accepted that that was just as much a part of him as it was a part of you.

Sure, it was messy, but Sebek was coming to accept that part of himself because of you. And it would be a work in progress, as he had years of a combination of an inferiority and superiority complex due to the mixture of fae and human, but he was willing to work on it. Not just because of you though, it was a combination of you, accepting himself, and forgiving his father. 

He was mad at him for so long because it was easier to be mad than to love and then lose him. He was mad for his mother. But now he just wanted to say that he was sorry. That he loved him, that he loved him so much that he was scared of losing him. 

The door to the botanical garden opened, and Sebek froze. First impressions are everything! He was about to straighten himself up, but he remembered the last time. This wasn’t a first impression, you knew him, you’ve known him for a while. So, he relaxed, he took a seat on the bench next to the roses. And focused on calming his breathing.

A butterfly, a pale green butterfly, flew around his head before coming to rest on his shoulder, crawling leisurely until it got to a comfy spot, sitting above his heart.

He looked up from looking fondly at the small insect to find you, his soul match, standing in the middle of the path with a butterfly, the same colour as his, resting on your heart.

“I knew that you felt familiar! Ha ha!” You smiled, like you had just won something.

And Sebek felt the same. 

Fin!~

Author's Notes; I love Sebek, but I also like bugging him, so I kinda made the reader a menace in this one. Go forth! Be menaces in the world! Huzzah!

Tags; @xxoomiii, @eynnwwyjth, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @savanaclaw1996

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