#but you can't DO that with a character who is in a POSITION OF POWER

[thattimdrakeguy]

Wonderful Examples, Showing Why TIM DRAKE Is Such An Excellent Character!

Was going to call it quits for the night, because I'm sure I am absolutely overwhelming the Tim Drake tag right now. But dammit, good content is good content, who cares that much?

Another thing that endears me a lot to this series, is that it's dedicated to making sure Tim's still relatable and grounded. Since he's adopted by Bruce Wayne at this point, they could've easily decided to go full generic Batkid, school hardly matters unless mentioned, but they don't.

They continue to honor that part of the character, because it's part of what made him so likable to his reading audience. And that's exactly the right decision to make.

And to avoid overwhelming people with fifty more posts. I'll just add onto this one.

Because a lot of writers around this time mistaken more talent, for being more interesting, and that's a sore mistake to believe in.

This run remembers Tim is an underdog, his appeal is being underestimated all the time. So it keeps it up and finds fun ways to incorporate it into it's stories instead of ignoring it.

I'll go as far as to bite the bullet people don't talk about, and include this, if only for the sake of Tim's characterization, definitely not Cass's.

But Tim is at the brink of death, he has a knife to his throat, and here he is caring about someone else's life...a murderer. Because though he hates the scum bag (it's David Cain), and will throw him right back in prison, his inability to believe in murder is still strong, and this is after all the loss he felt up to this point.

This is the climax of this arc. What it's all been building up to, and what they chose to focus on is the compassion and conviction of Tim Drake.

Most other writers would have Tim use his brain like he's a super genius. Though I hope by now we all know he's just very clever.

Is it a thought out intentional decision? Who knows. I am not Adam Beechon. However, it works a lot. It circles directly what makes Tim, Tim, in an issue that is meant to be a soft reboot (as was One Year Later in general) so would be many's first issue.

Also Cass is taller than Tim. Respect Freddie Williams III, for just being the guy that GETS IT.

He's been put in a similar position before in his first mini-series, the mini-series that showed just how successful Robin can be...by Lady Shiva, Cass's own mother.

(Again, Cass is written terribly. But Adam Beechon was made to make her evil. So give him a bit of a break here.)

It's a full circle moment...and this is after Tim's been broken by so many losses...

And he isn't the same kid, blinded by his naivete and lack of world experience...

Maybe he is still naive because he's idealistic despite it all...but it's his power in the end...

Even though Tim is still a character...that often enough...doesn't always win...

But look at him...he still holds out hope. Bound to his idealism. He can't help himself.

"We'll get you the help you need."

This is what makes Tim Drake, Tim Drake. No stupid gimmicks. No artificial traits. Just pure, good hearted, boy hero, doing the right thing and trying his dang best even if he can't always win.

He wasn't born into this. His parents were both still alive when he took on this role. He has no obligation to be Robin. He does this because this is who he is, this is what he cares about. He can't sit by, knowing what the right thing is to do, and not do that thing. He can't stand it if he didn't try.

After all, you can't keep a good Boy Wonder down.

And like any good run...they find a way to keep you waiting to see more.

And this is the arc people hate from this run lmao

Also by the way, he totally freaking loses at the end of his arc. Anyone that thinks he's a Gary Stu, has no idea what they're going on about, honestly. Tim often doesn't win his stories. It's another thing that makes him so magnetizing. You don't always know what to expect, and keeps you feeling for him.

Just some more examples of what makes Tim Drake so great as a character for ya, in case you've forgotten or never knew.

[halflifebutawesome]

genuine question am I the only one around here that sees the gman as actively antagonistic or am I the outlier

[birdmenmanga]

huh... okay... economically magi actually has a pretty coherent story... I was just unable to comprehend it when I was in middle school...

[cursedcola]

Prompt: YOU ARE LIKE PAPA!!!! Aka. I'm seeing a trend. The boys are all literal carbon copies of their mommas (or one parent) at this point - so how do they feel having a child that’s THEIR spitting image? In which your genes didn’t even try. Physically...and personality. Masterlist: LinkedUP Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: House-Wardens Format: Headcannons+ imagine (Yes, I know I said I wouldn't be doing bullets anymore...but one more? It's mixed. Can't just cold turkey a gal) A/N: Do I want to make this a series?...I do not know. Maybe? It's really hard to write without the kids having names - and I'm just here like...can I use the names I want? I already made them up in a past post. Would that ruin the experience for people? I mean - it's my stuff and I can do what I want but hmmm.... Warning(?): For this to be, MC's the one who popped the kid out and has reproductive ability to house spawn. Kiddos are biological. Talk of pregnancy and general child-rearing. Use of mother and she/her pronouns to make my life a bit easier.

Riddle couldn't care if his child looked like him down to the last freckle on is butt. What mattered most in that delivery room was that the child came out healthy with no complications. He's the father that doesn't shy away from asking the doctor + midwives questions - perhaps too many, since you nearly toss him out of the delivery room for causing unneeded distress.

In all honesty? Had he studied medicine like his mother pushed - Riddle would've been the one delivering his own child. He copes with stress through control - so imagine THAT scenario.

After birth, he cares much more for the child's skills and manners rather than their appearance. Do they wash their hands before every meal? Say their please and thank you? Do they trust him enough to state their opinions - respectfully, not a potty mouth.

Riddle can and will make them lick a bar of soap if they utter a curse word before the age of 15.

How's their academic drive? Are they social? It's very important that they get along well with others from an early age. He wants them to have many friends.

He's so focused on their personality - aiming to raise a happy, confident, healthy child - that Riddle takes compliments on their physical attributes with a grain of salt until his hard work all those years child-rearing amass into... well, a second less intense version of himself.

He's adamant to ensure the child's homelife is better than what he had growing up. In a way, he misses much while worrying about other things. 10/10 an anxious father, but very doting despite being strict.

"Must I paint a heart on my cheek every day? Why not a crown, or something more fitting us? Like a rose?" his daughter huffed, yet went to paint a large red heart over her cheekbone regardless.

Just like her father, she'd received her invitation to Night Raven. The girl was expecting it, her certainty fueled by perfect grades and a strong aptitude for magic. She did not lack confidence.

Just like her father, she was assured to land in Heartslabyul. Already prepping her cheek-mark before the mirror made any verdict.

Just like her father, she aimed for the position of Housewarden before setting a single foot on campus.

Yet unlike her father, she held no issues in speaking her grievances. She bemoaned about packing, groveled at her mother's feet for her favorite biscuits before living off cafeteria meals, and surely had no reservations stealing Riddle's best fountain pen for her studies.

She keenly resembled a certain ginger that still calls the Rosehearts' household every day despite getting blue-screened by the answering machine.

That’s the last time Riddle allows you to chose the godfather of his child. Ace is an insufferable influence without that power to toss around.

Riddle sighed, plucking the brush from her fingers and pinning her V-shaped bangs back to examine her uniform. He flattens her lapels and redoes her necktie.

His necktie. Gods he’s raised a little thief.

For a moment, as he loops the tie-knot, he's a young boy calling the girl's mother over each morning to straighten her uniform. It's nostalgic, especially with how his daughter squirms under his appraisal.

Definetly her mother’s daughter, he thinks.

It is then that Riddle sees himself through her wide eyes - they're the same greyish blue that were hardened on his first day. His daughter's are much kinder, he notes. She'll easily find companions to eat her meals with.

Her cheeks are full with sweetness- his were too, but by genetic design rather than an extra treat here and there. To this day his baby-face lingers.

Her cheeks were 100% rounded with uncle Trey's spoiling. Not that Riddle could deny her when he'd eat just as much sweets while toiling over papers in his office. He remembers the familiar patter of feet slipping in, tiny hands pushing a cookie on his desk and coating it with crumbs.

He'd scold her to bring a plate next time, but take a break from work to enjoy the moment. Strict yet not domineering. A child that shares should be encouraged, at least that's what one of his many parenting manuals said.

She shared his button nose and tiny stature. Except she loved wearing matching Mary-Janes with her mother, while he wouldn't be caught without a heel at that age. She inherited his height but not his insecurity. Thank goodness.

Perhaps all those comments about his genetics weren't solely in regard to her magical prowess or ambitions. "....Father? Hellloooo?" she side-stepped to grab her bags, just as he reached to flatten her hair for the fifth time. His heart mellowed enough to not scold her impropriety.

"Ah - " Riddle coughed into his fist, " - apologies, little rose. I just never realized how much you look like -"

"You?” She cut in, “Yeah, psssssh. Mother says it at least once a day. About time you listened."

Riddle snorted, pinching between his brows. Yes, of course it was said. Although only now was he beginning to believe it.

"In appearances, yes. Yet your manners are as deplorable as ever."

Leona hopes his children are nothing like him. Which is impossible, since beastmen carry dominant traits when pitted against humans. He's not surprised in the slightest when his child has two little cub-ears atop their head, or that tiny chord barely passing as a tail. A ready snack he threatens to bite off when they misbehave.

At the very least, he hoped for your eyes. His piercing citrine was attractive, no doubt about that. He's not displeased to have them peer up at him from a bassinette each morning. Yet it is your eyes that carry a softness that this palace needs for him to get through his day.

Hey. At least there's no question of paternity. The joke falls flat with the midwives though. 'course it does.

Multiple times, by the way. For someone who claims to dislike loud children, Leona's genes are intent to sire three spitting images of himself.

In every which way - from their squeaky yawns after a mid-day siesta, to the magic flowing in their veins.

"Papa! Look what I learned how to do!"

Leona barely had time to look up from his endless pile of paperwork. The damn thing was near endless, and he'd missed three scheduled siestas just trying to get through the civil dispute filings. His brother spared no mercy in delegating the less 'enthusing' tasks to his 'smart, wise, people-smart' - pah - little brother.

He hated the sea of menial administrative filings.

His eldest daughter was well aware - she hated her homework just as much.

"A stampede's on it's way! Better freeze up before it's too late!"

Which is why she chose that moment to turn her beloved papa's woes to stone. Literally.

The moment her little fingers touched papyrus, the entire stack turned into solid rock. As did the blood in Leona's veins. Sparkly citrine eyes looked at him expectantly. Somewhere in the palace the lioness' tutor was undoubtly scouring to find her, take her back to magic theory, maybe try to cover this up from the other servants.

"You - OI! I needed those - urk, what else have you turned to stone?" he drops the pen in his hand and tries to move the now frozen stack into a drawer.

"Dammit Ki'faji...Where are your tutors? This is exactly why I told your mom combined lessons with Cheka would be a hassle," Leona grumbles and kicks from his desk, quick to check the hall outside. The kid was a bad influence - rambunctious as a twerp and even more riled up as a preteen.

Upon seeing no servants, guards, or even Cheka running up after his cousin - Leona's both relieved and angered.

Angered that his daughter was left alone. She probably escaped to avoid classwork, which he did too at that age but she deserved better. A proper education outside of solitude. One where she could hopefully grow up optimistic about this country and the people inside of it.

Relieved that no servant witnessed her Unique magic. They wouldn't understand. He can't bear the thought of them speaking of her like they did him.

Except it would be inevitable.

Then angered again, because in his hurry her little tail tucked between her legs. She hugged the side of his work desk with her hands fisted at the hem of her tunic. Her lips set in a scared pout, looking up at him past that untamed mane in her eyes. Worried.

"Papa...did I do something wrong?"

He wonders if this is what his father felt like. Being confronted with your own child, knowing that by cruel fate they'd have to face hardships and hatred for something out of their control.

Suffocating. His own throat felt full of sand. The leather on his hands too tight. She looked so much like him. Acted like him. That much Leona never once contested. Ki-Faji bemoaned to the skies that it was like time never passed, and he was stuck in a loop teaching the same unruly child.

It was funny, until it wasn't. "Nah, kiddo. Nothin' like that," he tried to keep his usual drawl. Unclench his fists. Forget about when he first slipped gloves on, "ya gotta warn me before a shock like that. So you finally got your magic tamed down, huh? Good job."

He shut the door and it set closed with a load thud. Leona might have an idea of what his father felt, but right now? She came first.

Ensuring she felt wanted, strong, and damn right accomplished - came first. Everything else later.

So with just a few strides, he swept her up over his shoulder and out from under that desk. She giggled and squawked about turning 'him' to stone if he made her go back to classes.

And Leona made no promises, but set her on the edge of his desk with 'threats' of turning her sweets to sand if she didn't at least try.

"With Unique Magic like that, you'll out-class your cousin before he even catches wind," and a bit of rivalry never hurt to keep the bloodline strong too.

Which judging by his daughter's immediate squirming to go and turn the first-prince to stone? She inherited Leona's competitive streak as well.

Unions between Merfolk and Humans are rare. Roughly 1/100 and that is giving benefit of the doubt. There were too many boundaries and complications. Prejudice born from history, the need for transfiguration, differing lifespans and culture.

One strong deterrent, perhaps the most impactful, is childrearing. The genetic output - while not impossible - is exceedingly unpredictable. Each species of merfolk reproduces differently, and their genetic dominance when put against a human's gene (especially if the mother is human) can cause complications. Capricious complications.

And as we all know - Azul is not fond of chance. Were his child to be born on land, yet have gills? Their lungs are so small, so new, they wouldn't make it to water in time. The same could be if they were born underwater and needed air.

One thing he is certain of, is that Octopi carry strong genetics. Literally. Should the child inherit his strength its kicks could do much more to your stomach than be a tickle to fawn over.

His mother wanted grandchildren, as did his great-grandmother did great grandchildren. Truth be told he wouldn't be opposed to raise one to leave his legacy to. Yet the Ashengrotto genes were strong with each descendent, so much that when he discovered you were with child? He couldn't be happy. Not truly - because too much was at risk and out of his control.

He prayed, which is not something Azul ever does, that the child would take after you. At each stage of development you were monitored down to the last detail, looking for any complications. Even the slightest hint of a tentacle or incompatibility.

Luckily, the child formed feet. Its first kick scared the hell out of him, but at most left you sore. Yet he wasn't able to relax. Not until you were taken care of in the best hospital on land, with a literal aquarium set up next to the bed just in case.

A medical marvel. That's what this child was.

Not a miracle. Not a blessing.

A medical marvel, and the most beautifully unpredictable thing that has ever happened to Azul in his entire life.

There was no clear picture of how his son might look at birth. He waited with bated breath, mentally running through every text he could find on mer-human unions. Banking on all the preparations He arranged and trying not to bite through his nails from the anxiety. The success rate was too low, but you insisted.

And he was most fortunate, because had you not then he wouldn't be holding the most cherished prize of his life.

The baby didn't cry, yet neither did he according to his mother. He was pale, no gills in sight but the wispy swirls of light gray on his head showed Azul's genes wouldn't rescind everything.

It was hidden from view for now, but there were signs of mixed blood on his son's skin. Plentiful black dots spotted his entire body, too dark to be freckles yet too light to be like Azul's outer skin in his mer-form. Time would only tell if Azul's genes really did overtake all, and if his son would look at the world with wet purple eyes.

Yet what struck Azul the most wasn't these obvious traits, ones he predicted at the very start of your pregnancy after endless nights of research.

It was that right below his son's lip, in the same spot as his father, was a small mole. That truly was by chance with no genetic influence.

He thumbed the little speck, marveling at something so small yet he didn't realize he wanted until it was there.

"You weren't lying, huh? Those are some strong genetics you carry."

Azul balked, just barely stopping himself from whipping around too quick. He turned to scold you for not sleeping, worry ebbing at him all over again.

Yet you rest your head against his shoulder, cheek pressed into his ruffled button down to sink against him. His heart still spun like it did as a teenager.

"Look at his little head of hair," you laughed, and he mutely did just that, "if he gets glasses, then I think my bloodline's finished. Might as well say you did mitosis"

That got him to scoff.

"Hardly," he said dismissively, but his lips pulled to smile regardless, "I don't recall giving him feet. That's all your doing."

"Well excuse me for not having eight legs."

"You are excused," he snickered, "Truly, he would be so much more productive with them."

Azul didn't mean that. Well, partially. Yes his son would get much more done with four sets of arms but with other costs.

You hadn't pressed, and he was grateful.

Kalim wants a large family. Not only because it is expected of him as the eldest Asim, but also because he is a family man. He adores his siblings and does his absolute best to give them all attention despite their large quantity.

He's the most doting husband, and is even more attentive as a parent. One thing he will do differently from his father is keeping his family 'small'. Four children minimum, six children maximum. Monogamous as well. As much as he loves all his siblings, the unspoken tensions are too much to endure. Kalim's also a one-spouse kind of guy, and the thought of sharing - while normal for someone of his status - is not for him. No amount of suggestion or pressure will change that. It is bad enough that his children will be subject to worries about their uncles, aunties, and cousins possibly harboring ill-will. Kalim is set on ensuring that they are part of a true family, one without such tensions, and that he can give them all the love they deserve.

Perhaps he feels guilt as the eldest. He received the most attention from his father as the heir, but he has siblings who barely know anything about their father aside from how he looks. He has step-mothers he has met only in formality, and as time went on there were strains between his siblings that he couldn't ignore. Not after taking his official seat.

Kalim will not be the same as his father. Regardless for his respect and love for the man - No matter what the future does to him, no matter if he lives a long life or one cut short. Kalim will make sure his spouse and children are cared for. He loves them more than anything on the planet.

Should he have a family, and the situation demand it? He'd give up his spot as heir in a heartbeat and move far out into the dunes with nothing but the clothes on his back. All for them to be happy and safe. That's the kind of dad he is.

"Baba?"

Kalim resisted the urge to giggle. His eldest son hated when Kalim acted too childlike, and he was already pushing the boy's patience. He was just past thirteen, his fourteenth birthday already planned for a week-long celebration in just a half-month. It would be the biggest banquet the Scaldings Sands had see since Kalim's wedding. His son would soon start officially training as the next head Asim, just like Kalim did at that age.

Yet it was never too early to celebrate one of the best days of Kalim's life. Which is exactly why Kalim hovered outside the boy's window at an hour long past their family's 'bedtime'. The carpet under his feet familiar as ever, as was his son's exhausted disapproval (we wonder which attendant he inherited 'that' look from).

"Come on! Let's go for a carpet ride. Just you and me tonight," Kalim gently pat the space next to him, his smile adamant, "we don't even have to tell your mother."

His son deadpanned. Even Kalim grimaced at that one.

"Okay! If we get caught, I'll take the hit for both of us. Please? It's such a lovely night out. Perfect for a flight~"

Normally it would be the son begging his father to sneak out, not the other way around. Yet Kalim's eldest was much more mature than he was at that age. Despite being his physical copy, those ruby reds never sparkled with excitement like his father's. They were aways fully concentrated - be it on his studies, his charity, or whomever captured his attention. There came a point when a rumor surfaced that he couldn't possibly be Kalims, yet they didn't reach far thanks to the physical resemblance.

The 'only' resemblance. Since the kid hadn't cracked a laugh since he was in diapers.

Something Kalim learned to accept, but never gave up trying.

His son observed from his bed, the boy's nose wrinkled with thought. No doubt wondering if he should tattle to his mom. He was a doting momma's boy, at least he had that in common with his father.

"Fine," he sighed heavily, and rolled out of bed like it was torture.

Kalim waited, holding the curtain open eagerly until his boy hopped the ledge and sat cross-legged on the carpet's far edge.

Then they were off. High above the city where no one would see. Kalim bobbed his head happily, pointing out buildings as if his son hadn't memorized the entire map of their homeland at the ripe age of five.

"Oh! And there's the restaurant I took your mother on our first date. She loves their Kanafeh -"

"Baba, I know. We have it for breakfast twice every week."

Kalim guided the carpet towards lower ground without a response - keeping air, sassy teenagers, and his messy turban from whacking him in the face.

Only two of those three succeeded.

"Why are we even out here? Shouldn't you worry more about your responsibilities? What if mother wakes to an empty bed, did you consider the consequences? Her worries?"

There came those older thoughts out of such a young mouth. Kalim couldn't help but slump inwards, although his smile still hung on. "You're turning fourteen soon," life will change, "Don't you want to enjoy life a bit more before starting your studies? Baba will understand, you know." he said, and perhaps that was not what his son expected to hear. The boy puffed up. His tanned skin rouging with lost composure.

"I'm not like you. Being al Asim means something to me. Maybe you'd understand if you were a proper sultan who took his job and family seriously! Rather than sneaking off in the night for merry rides on a flying carpet!"

Under the moonlight, his son's perfectly primmed white hair bounced in the wind. Even in sleep he managed to keep his appearance tidy. There were times it was like Kailm was looking in warped a mirror. Those rare moments when he caught the boy lapse, usually with his younger siblings or cousins. When he looked softer, his garnet eyes full of kindness rather than the contempt held in them right now.

Except in these moments too - he still saw a mirror. Just one he wished to avoid.

He too disliked his father's way of doing things, to a certain extent. That his own son felt similar wasn't a surprise. It did not lessen the sting regardless.

"Tifli..." Kalim started, and his son faltered at the endearment, "think what you want, but there is nothing that means more to me than our family."

And even if his son wouldn't admit to it - Kalim knew he saw the mirror too. Just because Kalim disliked his father's choices, didn't mean he did not love him.

He reached for his son without a second thought, pulling the boy down to roughly rub his cheek over his head.

and just like that, Kalim was back to being happy and his son back to groaning complaints - albeit less agitated, to Kalim's delight - and pretending he was much more mature than he was deep down. Kalim's opposite yet perfect little replica.

"Ahahaha!!! Look at you! Just wait until the council has to fight against that fire! I can't wait to bring you with me! "

"AGH LET ME GO!!! WHY DID I EVEN AGREE TO THIS?!"

Papa Vil - now that's one unexpected title to tack onto his Resume. Contrary to what everyone might believe of a superstar leading a life on the go, Vil is proud to be a father. His own raised him while juggling his goals, why should Vil's career deny him the joys of fatherhood?

No. When Vil's daughter is born, he is more than prepared to balance family and work. He locked in when taking a spouse, and is never one to be unprepared.

When you were pregnant, he announced a hiatus in his career just as you entered the third trimester. He can afford it. The public loves a family man. He has money money, and wasn't going to risk missing the birth of his first child while travelling.

Also. Supportive husband to the maximum. Considering you were carrying his child, the bare minimum he could do was be readily available as you go through the roughest stage. That baby had a college fund made and filled before she was even born.

Not that he'd just let her mooch - no child of his would grow up without ambition and practiced life skills. He was not 'aiming' to create a replica or enforce his standards...but she wouldn't lack drive. No Schoenheit - not even you - is going to go through life quietly.

His hiatus was meant to extend until she turned one. Old enough to enjoy life on the road, for you to recover, and give 3-5 years for him to work until she started school. Unlike him at that age, she wouldn't be chartered around as much for his work. Nope.

He already had it planned. She'd be enrolled in a private academy, you'd work as you liked in a good neighborhood, and he wouldn't take any contracts outside of the Shaftlands until she was a teenager. Balance. She would have every opportunity, proper support, and hopefully independence to grow outside of his shadow.

The last thing Vil wanted was for her to be influenced by his career - well, other than admiring his films and being that perfect little face to single out int the audience while at a talk-show or photoshoot.

Speaking of Schoenheit genetics and their blossoming careers - heavens above, he fell in love the moment she first opened her eyes. There were few curly blond ringlets that grew out at super speed as the months past, and she inherited his lavender eyes. Although on a baby they were more rounded, doe-like, and would most definitely take his sharp edge as she grew. Every time he booped her little nose, the little giggle that came was almost melodic.

Such a well behaved baby made a cameo in one of his largest projects to date. He took the role of an unruly ostracized duke, where the special effects makeup made him both enchanting yet horribly frightening to young children. His character gained his redemption through raising an orphan, and Vil's little girl was the only baby they could find who wouldn't cry when seeing her father act so heinous.

"Vil, everyone here is itching to know, is it true that the baby we see in 'Redemption of our Finest ' is your own daughter? There are rumors and speculations from those on set yet we'd love confirmation."

Vil shifts in his chair. The many cameras at all angles did little to deter his focus from the interview in progress. It was one of many, and the talk-host across from him looked very eager to get the first scoop on his latest hit success. He smiled to the camera with his eyes, pretending to be in thought for a moment. The questions were all pre-approved, after all.

"Your assumption and the rumors are all correct," he started, crossing his legs and folding his hands together in them, "unfortunately we struggled to find a child that would not cry when faced with my appearance. Poor little things - it is a struggle to rear child actors. Especially babies."

The reporter blinked, somehow still shocked despite knowing the already.

"And you're saying that your daughter is a cut above the rest?" they asked, and he tutted inwardly. The phrasing was poor, as always with these reporters.

"Yes," he gave them a moment's victory, "and no."

He didn't wait for further inquiry.

"My daughter is remarkable - she is my greatest production, a work of perfection alongside my beloved spouse. Yet this film is rated PG-13, and includes scenes not fit for young eyes. Babies act on instincts alone, and for the majority of this film my appearance was...ah, I so rarely say this, but I was unsightly."

His tone carried warning for them not to twist his words, and the message was received as they gestured for those behind the scenes to alter the backdrop.

"We could even argue your acting ability is that good! To make such a beautiful face and poised demeanor come off as cold." they said, and with the click of a button the screen behind them changed.

On it came a picture of an old, tattered bassinette left on the front stoop of a castle. The picture flicked to show inside, and in it was Vil's precious little girl. Special effects added some dirt on her cheeks, and they wrapped her in a tattered blanket for the scene. Yet despite their efforts to make the child look abandoned, Schoenheit genetics demanded the world see such an adorable baby for all she is.

The audience awed at the picture, even without a cue card. Vil himself took on a genuine lift to his practiced smile when seeing her.

"And just look at her folks! Such an adorable little baby! Can you really expect anything less from THE Vil Schoenheit and Eric Venue's heritage. An actor before she can even count! Your wife's genes didn't even try here, did they Vil?"

The crowd appears insatiable as the host scrolls through a series of photos. Some taken from the film, others from photoshoots and the occasional candid photo snuck by paparazzi. He knew better than to try and hide his family, but said nothing as they all made assumptions.

After all - he was beautiful, and his daughter was undoubtedly the most beloved baby in all of Twisted Wonderland. It was only natural and who was he to turn his nose when faced with one of the few facts these reporters have gotten right.

Although, he wasn't entirely content He laughed into his palm, unable to resist the chance and made direct eye-contact with one of the cameras. Knowing full well that you were watching somewhere back stage, lips likely puckered from being disrespected and just waiting for him to come sneak your family out before the public was dismissed.

"I'm afraid there is nothing to argue there. My genes are perfection, not to mention competitive," he smirked seductively at the camera, propping his chin in the palm of his hand, "but I'm not opposed if my wife would like a rematch for a chance to win the next battle."

And with that - he simultaneously spiked his popularity rating and soft-launched what would likely be a second replica coming to life soon.

Maybe.

If you didn't kill him for that stunt first.

Prodigies spawn prodigies. At least in this case.

Idia never pictured himself as a family man. Hells he never thought anyone would even look at him with anything other than disgust (minus that one ghost lady. He doesn’t like to talk about it) let alone marry him. Needless to say that he cannot decide if you are an idiot or if he has plot armor - because those are the only two reasons you could possibly ever agree to give up your entire life and move to STYX just to be with him.

**see Marriage series for settling THAT can of worms

Yet you do, and now he’s got not only his little brother but a whole ass spouse. He’s on cloud nine. Life cannot be letting him have such good luck. The RNG is rigged

Until he learns that you’re with child - and it all goes boom. Literally. Since not only does his daughter inherit his curse, his fiery flames that never tame themselves, and his spiked teeth that nip his lips way too many times for comfort -

She inherits his genius.

Raising a child in a contained base is a living nightmare.

Raising a child with a need to infiltrate the laboratories and experiment is hell. At least he kept to his room when tinkering as a kid. Idia’s daughter has his brains and your craftiness for going around undetected…and your habit of initiating dramatic events. Needless to say that she does NOT keep to your family’s apartment, does NOT submit to any security (he regrets teaching her how to decode the base padlocks), and very much enjoys making STYX ‘lively’….haha…yeah

No one has ever met such a happy Shroud. Excluding Ortho. He was a sweet type of happy. You spawned a menace.

But let’s not derail. Even if he didn’t want her per-say - Idia loves his daughter. His gut twisted seeing the Shroud curse start taking hold over such a tiny body. She was just a toddler and already burning through enough blot to tie her to this place. He knew the feeling of those youthful amber eyes looking at him for guidance. She looked so much like Ortho as a toddler, and as a child began to resemble him more with longer flames.

It was a constant battle every day. Balancing his work while also trying to do better - because his attitude sucked. He knew his attitude sucked. You warned him about using self-deprecative language and for the most part he did learn to reign it in.

Except old habits die hard, and deep down he still struggles to like himself. Seeing his daughter follow in his footsteps burns brutally, since she has all this potential and just like him she’ end up working for the family business without a choice. All because of these stupid flames and these stupid teeth and these stupid genetics and this STUPID curse -

“MAMAAAAAAAA!!!! DADDY’S BEING A BIG MEANIE AGAIN!!!”

Her shrill high-pitched cry carried throughout the apartment. Idia had just enough time to swipe the alarm system off before it processed. He wishes he could regret putting a system to detect and alert if she was distressed when alone here - but couldn’t. Even now. Since this was totally 100% his fault.

Dammit this kid has lungs of steel.

“Nonononononono - No Mama! No! Shhh shh shh shh!” He grapppled at her little shoulders with clammy hands, “Look! Look I’m not sad, see??? We have pretty hair! Super cool hair! Please please please stop crying -“

And then she did.

The tonal whiplash. The way this tiny manipulator just ceased all her tears, mouth clamping shut with an audible click. A literal child pulling out a handkerchief from her pocket to pat her eyes dry - like some twisted 60yr old swindler at a poker game who’s been training for this moment for decades.

He should have known.

Honestly. Idia can’t even bring himself to be mad. The amount of gaslighting it took to get this kid off his Ninswendo last week already put his best tricks to use.

He is the one who created this monster.

Just like her dad - his little girl was hyper aware of people. Including him, and picked up all his weaknesses. She knew damn well that he genuinely had reason to fear only two people - her momma and her grandmother. Both of which lecture him about being a good model. She knew that system was put in place, and to be good when no one was around to watch her. Not that she ever stayed quiet in their home with S.T.Y.X labs to infiltrate.

He just never thought the day would come, when her demon like tendencies would be used for something like this.

“Your her father, not her friend” his mother said.

“It’s bad enough you turned me into a living photocopier - don’t you dare get lenient with her at this age” you warned.

“That child scares me” he thought, and you agreed. Awful. Awful parents. You both mean it in the most loving way possible.

“Hwee hee hee! I’m glad you think so, daddy,” she grinned up at him all sweet-like, with those pointy little chompers ready to stake their claim. She snapped her teeth at him like a piranha, “hehe~ Mommy says our teeth are cool too. The pointies make eating steak easier - oh! Oh! Can we please have steak for dinner tonight? Please?? Pleaseeeeee?”

Something told him that should he say no, those distress detectors would be set off before he could catch them.

“U-uh…yeah, kiddo. Sure thing. Just go play and I’ll put an order in.”

He tried desperately to hide the quiver in his voice, but knew he failed. She skipped off to her bedroom much too happily - even if father’s were supposed to want their kids to be happy, that was too much - and whatever work remained for the evening didn’t seem important

As Idia slid up to one of the house control panels to check for instant-card delivery, he wondered how this became his life, and if this is how his parents felt having a prodigal spawn of the under-hells for a son.

No. He wasn’t that bad….was he? Did he even want to know at this point?

Boom

“DADDY!!! MY EXPERIMENT BLEW UP AND IS LEAKING RED GUNK!”

No. No. He really did not want to know. For the sake of whatever relationship he had with his parents.

He wants as many children as possible. The definition of that one clip of of the kid who wanted 100 children, so that they'd all have to be his friend. Not that Malleus would force his children to be his friends - well, it would be a plus surely - but he does want a large family to live his life beside.

He finds comfort in solitude, but comfort's close companion is loneliness. He wishes to never be partnered with that feeling. There was opposition. Union between the Briar Prince and a human? Unheard of. Not to mention the life-span difference. Not just between himself and you, but also for his children. Half-fae live long, but not as long as full-blooded fae. In time he will still come out alone, but he hopes to have many memories. Much love and warmth to take with him.

Yet this isn't meant to be sad - no, let us focus on the absolute joy he felt when his first child was born. A boy, his magic exceedingly strong despite his lineage. Even the elders were surprised at the magical prowess this child held. It was almost as if Malleus' nightly wishes for his child to be well, to be loved, to be healthy - taking every precaution to ensure you were well cared for during pregnancy, speaking blessings to your stomach in the dead of night - it all just manifested and out came the world's most perfect child.

A Draconia who would grow up with both parents. He'd be protected, nurtured, loved, and never ever alone. Some might call the King overbearing, making sure his spouse had a desk in his office and attending his meetings with a bright yellow baby sling over his chest. It definitely stood out against his royal attire but Malleus didn't mind.

In magic - there was also physical appearance. Being half-human, the child physically aged quicker than Malleus did in his youth. Yet he still retained the Draconia genes, with two curled scaly horns poking out above his forehead. He had no tail at birth, but around puberty many little scales began to poke their way through at his temple, back, wrists, and neck. No one predicted this since the Draconias have never reproduced with humans, but you tried to calm him with poorly convoluted jokes about ' fancy dragon acne'.

Yet according to Lilia, the boy looked like a near carbon-copy of Malleus once he sprouted up. His hair may have been kept shorter, slicked back, and he may carry himself entirely different from his father. Yet the look in his slitted-emerald eyes was exactly the same. His aura was the same.

And Malleus hadn't any idea how to handle that observation. Surely it was meant as a compliment. In the moment, he laughed and took it as one. Who wouldn't be prideful to see themselves in their child? Especially one so accomplished, growing into his scales with pride and eagerly stepping into his role as prince.

Except Malleus wouldn't, because the thought of his child sharing the feelings he had at that age? It unsettled him greatly. Perhaps one of his worst nightmares as a doting father.

“Father?”

Three sharp knocks echoed in Malleus’ study. He needn’t look up from his book, since the door opened with a thud without waiting for his approval.

Not that he minded - no, quite the contrary. He felt excitement building up at the first knock after all. There was only one person who it could be.

No one would dare impose on the Briar King during his downtime.

None had permission for such rudeness.

No one except his dear family, of course. Although as much as he wished for them to cling to his side and be a welcome reprise from his duties - Malleus was rarely afforded such a gift. His eldest son in particular conducted himself more as a knight or distant consultant than a loving son. Perhaps that came from leaving him in Sebek’s care - as much as his knight was ecstatic to become the first prince’s personal guard, his constant reverence to the elder briar ways likely left an impact on an impressionable child. Instead of bedtime stories, the little Draconia likely fell asleep to Sebek's long-winded lectures on the daily.

Back when he was a starry-eyed toddler, of course. Now the boy wouldn't dare let his guard down enough to sleep, even if his safety was guaranteed. Somehow despite Malleus taking every last precaution to rear a tranquil child, he raised a stickler instead.

“Hm? You look troubled, my son” Malleus met his eldest’s rare lack of decorum with amusement. He didn’t bother to hide a fanged smirk from him.

His son, who seemed to bristle in the doorway when under Malleus’ eye, clearly struggled to contain himself into the proper prince he was trying to be.

“Because I am troubled, father” he grit out, hands flexing at his sides. Sharp black fingernails pricking at his palms.

“Oh? And what seems to be the problem? You so rarely come to me with such matters” - to anyone who didn’t know the king, the sentence read as a bitter slight.

Yet it was merely a father sulking for his son’s attention, in his own prideful way.

“That’s precisely the issue,” his son huffed, “with all held respect, you cannot just drop in on my classes whenever you feel like it! It’s disruptive!”

Malleus merely turned the page in his book, “and whose fault is it that I had to resort to such measures?”

His question met a guilty conscience, and so he continued.

“What else am I to do? My child no longer behaves as my blood. He writes home giving stale reports as if he is one of my soldiers and bids his precious family far too few visits,” Malleus looks up from his ‘reading,’ and gestures to the uniform his son wears, “What else am I to do to see my precious son, other than visit his school? I was a student there once. Your headmaster wouldn’t dare to deny my entry.”

“Father - I understand your anger with my negligence but that is not an excuse for disrupting my classmates -“

“They looked quite please with my presence. I even supplemented material for your lecture -“

“They were scared beyond their wits! - And what of mother?! Surely she was against doing something so drastic! Think of our image! The King of Briar Valley cannot just casually drop his responsibilities whenever he so pleases.”

The boy’s composure finally cracked - and even for a half-blood, his power easily contorted the world around them if left unteathered.

Crackles of electricity buzzed across the study, flickering through a lit desk-lamp. As did the temperature lessen some degrees. Rather than be miffed by his son’s explosion, Malleus laughed in the face of it.

So this is how he must have looked during his moments of impulsivity. Hah.

“You’d be foolish to assume she didn’t try and come along. I thought to spare you her ire, as a mercy.”

At that, the lamp ceased it’s flickering to beam a steady light once again. The teen’s cheeks flushed a shameful color, so rare for one who prides himself more than any of his siblings.

"That was not necessary," he softened almost instantly. Even if she nearly committed the same 'crime' as Malleus, it seems favorites were at play.

"You know with certainty that it was."

A Draconia through and through. What was the term Lilia used? “Momma’s boy”? Considering that none disrespect the Queen - the King included - as her ire could strike the most sore spots of their family after all.

The boy pulled at his collar, out of arguments and simmered to displeasure rather than anger. He muttered an apology for losing his temper, and Malleus found himself wishing for the argument to continue just a bit longer.

After all, these were the times he felt most like a father, a husband, part of a family - rather than a king. He misses the early days when he was only the first three, before the council and other influences pushed his children to focus on responsibilities and their lineage.

“I’m sorry for not writing home…or visiting…I hadn’t thought it would trouble you. I simply - I thought it best to place distance between us.”

“Distance?” Malleus balked, “Distance from your family?”

He couldn’t understand why his child would want distance.

How could the boy he worked so hard to instill belonging within, whom he raised from egg to man, whom he would give up everything for - possibly say such a harrowing thing.

His own blood. His heart and soul. To spew such things in the face of ancestors who were bound to loneliness.

Whatever explanation for his manners didn’t matter so long as he was happy, but to intentionally want to be away from all Malleus thought worthwhile in life?

Never-mind. Malleus wanted the argument to cease. Indefinitely. And to tie himself to this desk for a decade or more.

“Yes, Father. Otherwise it is too difficult-“ he hesitated to continue, but one look at his father- whatever expression he might hold that couldn’t be contained despite his efforts - seemed to be the last push, “- being away. From my family. Leaving. I do not like it, but it is my duty. Coming home, hearing from you, mother, even the care packages I receive from grandfather! I can’t eat them but somehow just smelling the burnt food makes me falter! How can you expect me to preform up to our family’s standards, if I am homesick all the time!?”

It was the first time since he was a boy, clinging to Malleus’ legs, begging his parents not to leave him with his babysitters, that his son cried so openly. Malleus nearly gave in each time it happened too.

The pressure of royal duties, of perfection, on his shoulders was the same as those who came before him. Yet Malleus found himself more relieved than anything, even if his child might never recover his pride.

It was also the first time in many years that Malleus hugged his son, careful to avoid his growing blunted horns, and wasn’t pushed away.

“You are already doing more than enough. Loving your family is nothing to be ashamed of, and it is one of my greatest regrets that you thought otherwise for a single moment.”

[3hks]

How to Write a Character with THAT *Sad Aura*

Have you ever stumbled upon a character, who, despite radiating wholesome, positive energy, also has a subtle undertone of sadness? It's kind of intriguing, isn't it? If you've ever wanted to write a perhaps more complex character or explore writing emotions, why not check this out?

What am I talking about?

Let's do a quick introduction as to what I mean. I've said this a couple times already, but to the reader, this character feels despondent even though they act nothing like it. This doesn't mean they have to act happy all the time (like my first example); they might act cold, or apathetic, but the point is they don't act visibly sad.

This faint melancholic mood provides a charming, or even nostalgic feel to the audience through ONE character! Isn't that kind of fun?

Eye Expressions

This character will not show sadness on their face--that contradicts the idea of "sad aura". But you know what they say, right? Eyes are the windows to the soul; they do not lie!

When trying to highlight some of this unhappiness, write about their eyes. Talk about how their eyes look oddly dim sometimes when they smile, or how they don't meet their friend's eyes when they laugh. These cues are simple but powerful.

Adverbs

You always have to be mindful of adverbs, but here especially, adverbs (and adjectives) unconsciously influence how your audience views the character.

For example, avoid saying too much of "smiled brightly" or "talked excitedly". If these are the adverbs you purposefully want to use to portray your character, then by all means! However, these adverbs add a happier connotation, which you must be aware of. If you want something more neutral (which I recommend for the most part), consider using lighter adverbs/adjectives, such as "smiled softly", or "offered lightly".

Reasons

A reason is normally needed for almost everything. Here, you want genuine reasons to back up why your character doesn't ask for help, thus forcing them to work through their unhappiness alone.

This could be because they think other people can't solve the problem, they don't want to bother others, they don't think their issue is a big deal, or they simply believe there's no solution.

Physical Hints

And if all this isn't enough, then drop some physical hints! Perhaps your character gets distracted often, tends to hesitate before speaking, deflects concerned comments with jokes, or has a hard time acknowledging reassurances, even when it's unrelated to their personal troubles. These habits suggest the idea your character has more than meets the eye.

Mood Changes

When people are upset, their mood tends to fluctuate. For most of us, we're typically upset for a short period, so we cycle through emotions such as anger, sadness, and even joy during these moments.

However, if your character is consistently sad, not just for a day or two, their mood might shift on different days. Maybe they're really tired one day, hardly speaking. Maybe the next, they are more frustrated, snapping at people or ignoring them. Maybe the day after that, they are overly energetic, bouncing everywhere and talking all the time, providing a bit of whiplash.

Purpose

Similar to having a reason for their reluctance of reaching out, you also want to ensure that they have a purpose for fighting. Why haven't they given up yet? This is especially crucial when considering the real world, where feeling upset leads to a lack of motivation.

So, what keeps them going, then? Do they want to fix their regrets? Do they want to change?

Backstory and Actions

To be honest, I wouldn't consider a backstory an absolute necessity, but I highly suggest creating one. Why? Because you can accurately identify the reason for your character's guilt, regret, and sorrows from the past with an actual backstory.

The events of your character's past always influence their future actions.

For example, if they were a part of a severe car accident in the past, perhaps they only feel comfortable when they are the driver in the future because that means they can control the car.

Conclusion

This character is not especially different from any other character, besides the fact that they are neither obvious nor overly secretive of their genuine feelings.

With that being said, focus on embodying their eye expressions, be careful about which adverbs and adjectives you choose to use--I recommend choosing ones with more neutral connotations for a sense of melancholy, explain why your character keeps their sadness to themselves and why they keep fighting despite it, show mood fluctuations, drop physical hints, such as actions and/or specific personality traits, and make sure to connect their past to their present!

Happy writing~

3hks ^^

[olgasaysso]

The apothecary diaries made me realize something very interesting about how women perceive power...

I can't be the only one who noticed that in stories written by women power is often compared to a prison or a cage meanwhile in the ones written by men it's mostly fun and freedom.

It is that women tend to see power as more of an responsibility and men think of it as the ability to do whatever they want?

The apothecary diaries made me think of it first. I discovered with surprise that I actually like the emperor, which I almost never do. Any guy that has relationship with more than one woman at once tends to disgust me, especially if he's in a position of power but for some reason not him.

Because the emperor is as much a prisoner as the 2000 women in the rear palace. Maybe even more because as long as he doesn't touch them, they're allowed to leave.

Like on one hand, he's the most powerful man in the empire. He calls the shots, right?

But on the other hand, he can't even properly protect Lishu from being sold to some pedofile by her father. The only way he could protect her was to make her his concubine and how f*cked up is that? She's like a daughter to him and the only way he could protect her was by marrying her? And then he couldn't even spend time with her anymore because that would be read wrong.

It's the fact that 3 of his children died because there was no proper medic to save them due to the fact that they don't allow non eunuchs to treat them and forbid women practicing medicine... when he doesn't even care about that. He hasn't blinked once at Maomao running around the inner palace and being a doctor.

At first when I was watching the story I thought of how horrible it was that he didn't even visit Lady Lihua after their son died. But then it made me think of how he's literally not allowed to get attached because of his position and how hard it is for him? The fact that he couldn't even provide enough support for Lady Ah-Duo so she doesn't lose her uterus? The fact that she switched their baby with his brother and he had to watch his son grow up "away" from him?

There's so much more to this, especially with Jinshis approach to power and I could go on an on but I think I made my point.

And when I started comparing the stories written by women to those by men... Women tend to write power as more of a burden than a gift.

After watching TAD I watched solo leveling.

And for those of you who don't know, it's basically a story about a guy who suddenly "discovers" that he's like a character in a game (not exactly but it's be too long to explain) and basically finds out that he has endless potential and over the course of the story he becomes the most powerful being in the entire universe.

And there's a moment where he's talking to his little sisters friend that gets very misread as something inappropriate by another character.

This other character points out, kindly, to Sung Jinwoo that the girl is a minor.

Sun Jinwoo doesn't understand so he just looks at him and asks "so?".

And so the guy immediately gets scared and never mentions it again despite the two of them being friends.

This moment is kind of played for laughs. Nothing actually happened, Sung Jinwoo is a good guy so he wouldn't.

But he could. Nobody could do anything to stop him.

And when I watched that I laughed too. But then I thought of how terrifying that is. To have someone be so above the law, this untouchable. Who can do anything he pleases because no one will ever stop him.

But that's never actually adressed in the show other than to show us how cool this is.

It this was written by Natsu Hyūga there'd probably be a million different situations to show us how fucked up this is and how it weighs on the main character.

In the apothecary diaries Jinshi doesn't even want to ask anything directly of Maomao because he doesn't want her to interpret it as an order.

[inkskinned]

no, actually, where is the whimsy?

my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?

we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.

earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.

i stared at my ex. he stared at me.

his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!

it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.

and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.

my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.

which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.

but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.

the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.

so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.

and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.

where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.

it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.

this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.

[pitlanepeach]

The Long Way Home I Chapter Eight

Oscar Piastri x Harper Grace (OFC)

Summary — When Harper, a kind girl with a guarded heart, meets rising karting star Oscar Piastri at their English boarding school, sparks fly.

It only takes one silly moment of teenaged love for their lives to change forever.

Warnings — Teenage love, growing up together, falling in love, teen pregnancy, no explicit scenes when the characters are underaged (obviously??), strong language, manipulative parents, past death of a parent, dyscalculia, hardly any angst, slice-of-life basically!

Notes — The sports day scene really had me in my feels omg.

Wattpad Link | Series Masterlist

The grass on the main field had been freshly mowed into lines, each one crooked enough to be noticeable. A cluster of teachers stood around with clipboards and stopwatches like they were auditioning for the Olympics, and the school's ancient PA system was making increasingly desperate attempts to stay audible over the wind.

Sports Day at Haileybury was not, as Harper had once assumed, a low-stakes afternoon of novelty races and post-Pimm's bruises. It was a full-scale military operation.

There were tents — tents, plural — each year had their own, flapping slightly in the breeze like they were preparing for battle. Some parents had actually brought champagne in coolers. A drone buzzed overhead. There was a pony somewhere. No one knew why.

Harper stood on the sidelines. It was March now, and at twenty-weeks, there was no hiding the fact that she was pregnant. Unlike the others, who were in their P.E kits, she was in her usual uniform. Blazer, white shirt, plaid skirt, white knee-socks, and black Mary Jane shoes.

She had a whistle on a string around her neck, which she kept fiddling with.

Oscar had insisted she be starter for the boys' 400m. "You'll get the best view," he'd said with a grin, "and you don't even have to run."

Which was, frankly, ideal.

Sam was already moaning. He'd been forcibly signed up for hurdles after one of the Year 11s sprained their ankle falling off a climbing wall during warm-up.

"I'm gonna clip every single one," he declared, stretching dramatically. "I'm gonna eat turf in front of all these people. You're all going to laugh. I'm going to die. This is my legacy."

"Can't be worse than last year," Alfie said, lying facedown on a picnic blanket. "Remember when Jane bit it in the egg-and-spoon and still won?"

"I tripped!" Jane snapped. "And I powered through."

"You ate half the grass on the pitch," Matt said cheerfully.

"Whatever," she muttered. "Still beat all of your times, didn't I? Fucking idiots."

Oscar was off stretching with the other Year 11 and 12 boys, already wearing his signature smug-athlete expression. He lived for this day. Being good at things in front of a crowd was practically his love language.

Harper watched him jog past, the back of his shirt clinging to him just slightly, and felt her cheeks warm. He caught her eye and winked.

"God, you're pathetic," Jane muttered beside her. "You've got that face."

"What face?"

"The 'my super hot Australian boyfriend is about to lap the entire field and I'm sooo going to kiss him afterwards' face."

Harper smirked. "It's a good face."

"I'm revolted."

The PA system crackled again. "Year Eleven boys, to the starting line for the 400 metres, please. Starter, take your position."

Harper shuffled over to the line, earning a round of polite applause just for existing — or possibly because someone mistook her for a teacher.

"Is she blowing the whistle?" A parent whispered nearby.

"She's pregnant, darling. That doesn't make her a criminal," the other replied. "Besides, didn't your Francesca have her little boy when she was here? Fourteen, wasn't she?"

Oscar and the other boys lined up — all long legs, cocky grins, tracksuit bottoms in various stages of removal. One of them started doing the Mobot ironically.

Alfie was muttering what sounded like a prayer. Sam just looked like he was going to throw up.

Harper raised the whistle to her lips and gave Oscar one last lingering look. He gave her a thumbs up. She rolled her eyes, but smiled.

Then she blew the whistle as hard as she could.

And they were off.

Oscar tore down the lane like he'd been fired out of a cannon. Jane whooped. Someone else shouted, "Go on, Whitaker!" and Alfie immediately collapsed onto Harper's chair, dramatically fanning himself.

"G'won Piastri! Bloody run!" Jane screamed.

"Thank Christ I wasn't signed up for that," he said. "Look at your boyfriend's calves. They're like weapons. I'm not built for violence. Or physical exercise.

Harper didn't answer. She was too busy watching Oscar absolutely demolish the field.

He was three body-lengths ahead by the final curve. By the time he crossed the finish line, the next closest runner was still negotiating the last 50 metres.

Oscar skidded to a stop, hands on his head, chest heaving — and then pointed straight at her like a footballer scoring a goal.

Jane stopped cheering in order to gag. "He's so in love with you, it's disgusting," she said. "Please don't shag him behind the scoreboard. This is a family event."

"I'm pregnant," Harper said with a grin. "That makes us a family, doesn't it?"

Jane laughed.

Sam limped over, trailing after Oscar. "Did you see me trip?" He asked. "We're not talking about it. Okay? I'm just putting it out there that the field obviously wasn't flattened enough."

Oscar came jogging back over, red-faced and sweaty. He didn't even pause — just leaned in and kissed Harper full on the mouth like it was the finish line itself.

A few teachers grumbled unhappily. Parents whispered. Their mates hollered and whistled.

"You blew the whistle beautifully," he told her solemnly.

"I'm a natural," she replied, breathless with laughter.

"And I smoked all of them."

"You're a show-off."

"I'm a winner."

She rolled her eyes. "I know that, Piastri. I've seen your trophies."

"I'm gonna kiss you again."

"You're sweaty." She complained.

"Don't care."

And then he kissed her again.

Behind them, the sack race began with someone falling over immediately and landing in a cone. A boy from Year 9 started crying when he got hit by a flying beanbag. There was a faint chant building by the Year 8 tent involving someone's mum and the pony.

Harper just shook her head, leaned into Oscar, and thought, weirdly, that she might actually miss this place when they were gone.

—

The maths revision group (not to be confused with the Harper's Tutors group) had been Alfie's idea. Which was insane, really, because Alfie was objectively the worst at maths after Harper. But apparently he felt that gave him some sort of authority.

"It's all about teamwork," he'd said, dragging desks into a semi-circle like they were in some sort of low-budget TED Talk. "If we all suck, no one feels bad."

"That's not how GCSEs work," Jane said, already bored, perched on the edge of a desk with a highlighter in her mouth.

Oscar sat beside Harper, chewing the lid of his pen and pretending not to glance every three seconds at her workbook like he might be able to absorb her stress through osmosis.

Harper had her revision guide open but had spent the last ten minutes underlining the same heading: Foundation Paper — Non-Calculator Section.

The numbers swam a bit. They always did. Like they had a personal vendetta against her.

"Okay," Sam said, flipping a page in his own workbook. "Let's go over fractions again."

"I will literally walk into traffic," Harper muttered.

"No, you won't," Jane said without looking up. "You'd just miscalculate the angle and the car would miss you."

Alfie howled. "Oi. That's harsh."

Harper gave Jane a glare. Jane gave her a bored thumbs-up.

Oscar nudged her thigh with his knee. "Stop stressing."

"I'm not," she muttered. "My brains just broken."

"Mate," Sam cut in, "if your brain was broken, you'd be one of those people who claps when a plane lands. You're not. You're just maths-thick. It's a very specific kind of issue."

Harper stuck her middle finger up at him.

"This is supposed to be a supportive space." Oscar said, unimpressed.

Alfie was already drawing a diagram on the whiteboard someone had dragged in from the art room. "Right. Improper fractions. They're just fractions that think they're better than you. Like, calm down, you're literally top-heavy."

"I happen to like top-heavy." Jamie, one of the year 11's in her foundation maths class, said.

Sam threw a highlighter at him.

Matt, who'd somehow ended up being the quiet brains of the operation, raised his hand like they were in an actual classroom. "Can I please just explain it properly before Alfie confuses everyone again?"

Oscar nodded. "Please do."

Matt sighed. "Okay. Harper — look. You've got seven halves. That's just three wholes and a half. You already know that. You could do that in your sleep."

"Yeah, but ask me to write it down and I panic," she said. "It's like I know it in my head, but the second I see numbers on a page, it's like they're in a different language."

"That's 'cause school maths is designed by sadists," Sam said. "Don't let it get to you."

Jane reached into her bag and handed Harper a mini packet of Haribo. "Sugar for the brain," she said.

"Thanks," Harper said, taking it. She rested her head on Oscar's shoulder for a second, and he leaned into her just slightly. Just enough to be reassuring, not PDA.

Alfie pointed at the whiteboard. "Okay. Here's the deal. We go over ten problems tonight. If Harper gets through them all without throwing a chair or crying, we reward her with cake from the machine."

"I like that plan," Harper said. She'd perked up a bit at the mention of cake. Oscar laughed when he felt movement beneath his hand. Baby liked the idea of cake too.

"You get cake either way," Jane muttered. "So please throw a chair at him."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Can we just start?"

Later, they were on their way down to the astro for some fresh air. "You're doing better than you think," Oscar said.

Harper didn't say anything. Just unwrapped the cake, tore off a piece, and stuffed it in his mouth before he could keep talking.

"Shut up," she said.

He grinned. "Okay."

—

Oscar had been weird all day.

Not, like, noticeably weird to most people — but Harper could tell. He kept checking his phone and tapping his fingers like his body had extra electricity to burn.

At lunch, he barely touched his chips, which was criminal, and when she asked him if he was alright, he'd just muttered, "Yeah, fine," and went back to staring at his phone.

Now, in the common room, he was pacing.

Actually pacing. Back and forth across the threadbare carpet.

"Osc, what's up with you?" Harper asked finally, closing her science book and watching him with raised eyebrows. "You're making me dizzy." She sighed.

Oscar stopped pacing, spun around, then walked over and just—held his phone out to her.

She blinked at it. "What am I looking at?"

He shoved it closer.

It was an email. Official, professional, with a logo that looked like speed and money and adult careers.

Subject line: BRITISH FORMULA 4 – DRIVER PLACEMENT OFFER (CONFIDENTIAL)

She blinked again. Then looked up at him.

"No way."

Oscar ran a hand through his already-messy hair. "Mark wants me in for trials next month. If I do well, they'll sign me for the junior seat. Full kit. Sponsorship. Real team. Single seater."

Harper's eyes widened. "With TV coverage and contracts and all the posh helmets?"

"Yeah," he said, breathless. "Yeah."

She stood slowly, the email still glowing on his phone in her hand. "Oh my god. That's... huge."

"I know." He stared at her, eyes wild and overwhelmed. "It's insane. I didn't think they were even watching me this season. I thought they were going with the kid from Sheffield."

"Well, apparently not," she said, handing the phone back. "Osc..."

He let out a stunned, choked sort of laugh.

Sam, who had been half-asleep on the sofa under a textbook, sat up and said, "Wait, what? What's happening?"

"Oscar got scouted," Harper said. "British F4."

"No way," Sam said, eyes wide. "Holy shit, that's—wait, do you get free jackets? I want a jacket."

"Mate," Oscar said, sitting down on the arm of the chair like his legs had just remembered they were fifteen and overwhelmed, "I'm going to be a dad. In like... four months. And now I'm getting offered a chance to race across the country every other weekend."

Harper sat next to him. She was quiet for a second. "You want to do it?"

His eyes snapped to hers. "Of course I want to do it."

"Then you should."

"But what about—?"

"You're allowed to have something," she said, before he could even finish the sentence. "We knew that going into this, didn't we? That there'd have to be sacrifices. I want you to do this."

He stared at her like he didn't believe it. "Harper," he said quietly. "I'm not leaving you."

"I know," she replied. "This isn't leaving. This is just... adding something. You don't have to pick between the baby and racing. We'll figure it out. We always do."

Sam clapped dramatically. "Right, well, now that we've sorted your future — someone tell me what the actual fuck simultaneous equations are."

Oscar looked back at his phone. His hands were shaking slightly.

Harper nudged his shoulder. "You're going to be amazing," she said. "And I'm going to be there to watch you win, Osc. As often as I possibly can."

"No promises on the wins," he muttered, but he was smiling now, in that quiet, stunned way that said maybe—for a second—he actually believed he could do both. "But I'll try. For you."

—

There were five of them crammed onto the threadbare rug in front of the common room sofa, surrounded by empty crisp packets, half-finished smoothies, and someone's maths textbook that had been repurposed as a coaster.

"Okay," Jane said, flipping her notebook open like she was taking official minutes. "We've ruled out anything weird and American-sounding, and Alfie's last suggestion was 'Rogue,' so he's on name probation."

"Oi," Alfie muttered, mouth full of Pom-Bears. "It's gender neutral."

"It's also the name of an X-Man," Jane deadpanned. "Not happening."

Harper was lying on her side, head in Oscar's lap, one socked foot lazily nudging Matt's leg every time he got too lost in his book.

"We don't have to pick one today," she said, though she was smiling. "We've got plenty of time."

"No, because if you don't decide soon, Alfie's going to campaign for something unhinged like 'Peach' and convince you that it's cute," Matt said.

"'Peach' is adorable," Alfie said, utterly unbothered.

"Peach Whiatt-Piastri sounds like a cocktail you order by accident in Ibiza," Sam added.

Oscar was quiet. He was playing with the ends of Harper's hair, twisting the red strands absently around his fingers. He hadn't said much since they started this conversation — which, to be fair, had started because Jane had walked in and said, "Right, I've been thinking. If it's a boy, you can't call it anything that rhymes with 'fart.'"

Harper had gone pink and said, "We don't know if it's a boy or a girl yet," and then they'd all gone down a rabbit hole of neutral names, none of which had made it past the group vote.

Now, Sam said, "We could do something badass, like River. Or Ash. That sounds like someone who'd wear leather and be in a boy band."

"I veto both of those names," Jane said.

Oscar let out a soft, distracted, "Yeah. I don't like those either."

Harper shifted slightly and said, "What about something literary? Like a cool author name?"

"Like what?" Matt asked.

"I don't know... Eliot? Or Austen?"

"Isn't Austen a bit on-the-nose?" Sam said. "With you being fancy and everything."

Harper threw a crisp at him.

They went back and forth for another ten minutes. Names got weirder. At one point, Jane suggested 'Moss'. Alfie floated the idea of 'Jelly'. Someone genuinely said 'Cricket'.

Eventually, Harper sighed, turned over to lie on her back and looked up at Oscar.

"You haven't said anything. What do you like?"

Oscar blinked. "I... dunno."

"Well, do you want something traditional or weird?"

"Just something nice, I guess. Something that suits her."

Silence.

Complete, stunned silence.

Matt dropped his can of Pepsi on the floor.

Jane gasped. "Wait. Her?"

Oscar blinked. "Oh. Shit."

Harper slapped a hand over her eyes. "Oscar, oh my God."

"You know the gender?" Sam practically shouted, scrambling to sit up straighter.

"We just found out at the scan on Thursday," Harper said, her face now redder than the KitKat wrapper on the table.

"I can't believe you didn't tell us!" Jane shrieked, half-laughing, half-scandalised.

"You're all so dramatic," Oscar muttered, clearly trying not to laugh. "It's normal not to tell people. We just wanted it to be a secret between us for a while."

"Mate, you're going to have a daughter," Alfie said, eyes wide. "That's so crazy."

"It's not that crazy," Harper argued, sitting up now.

"Oh my God," Jane whispered, pressing a hand to her mouth. "We're going to be aunties and uncles to a tiny little baby girl. We have to buy her tiny Converse. Pink ones!"

"Do babies even wear shoes?" Sam asked.

"I think so," Jane said.

Oscar wrapped an arm around Harper and pulled her in a bit closer, his cheeks still pink. "Sorry. I didn't mean to say it. It just came out."

"I'm not mad," she said softly. "They'd find out eventually. And... it's kind of nice."

Matt was still staring at them. "A girl," he said again.

—

It was a Friday. The sky was low and grey, and Haileybury's quad looked like it had been dunked in dishwater. A breeze kept snapping at the blazers of students crossing between buildings. Harper was halfway through a very dull lunch of jacket potato and beans when the message came down from reception.

Someone was here to see her.

Not her mother. That had been her first question when the note from the admin office arrived.

No — it was a man. Mid-sixties, they said. Said he was her uncle.

"Is he angry?" Harper asked, standing beside the reception desk in her cardigan and too-small school skirt, her satchel cutting into her shoulder. The woman behind the desk — Mrs. Keller, who always looked like she was two sneezes away from retirement — blinked at her.

"Seemed... posh," she said, like it might be a warning. "Said he was your father's brother. Waitin' in the front hall."

Oscar was already there when she arrived — clearly having run the whole way from the library. His tie was half-askew and his hair was sticking up.

"You okay?" He asked. She'd texted him and asked him to meet her there.

"I don't know," she said honestly.

Then they stepped inside.

He was waiting by the mantelpiece, spine straight as a gatepost, coat over one arm. His suit was cashmere. His shoes shone like piano keys. His face — older than she remembered, thinner — broke into a polite, somewhat startled smile when he saw her.

"Harper," he said, approaching.

She blinked. "Uncle Thomas?"

He took her hand, briefly. Warm palm, dry fingers. "It's been years. My God. You look so much like your father."

She swallowed.

"This is Oscar," she said stiffly, stepping aside.

Thomas gave a cordial nod, but didn't hold out his hand. "I know who he is. I've spoken to your mother once or twice recently."

Oscar flushed. Harper tensed.

"I haven't," she said flatly.

"Well," said Thomas. "Then I envy you."

"Why are you here?" She asked. "I haven't seen you in years. Since the funeral, probably."

He exhaled, then reached into his coat. Produced a leather folder, worn but clearly expensive. "I'm here," he said, "because there are some things you weren't told after your father passed away. Things your mother, I suspect, ensured stayed buried. But you're nearly sixteen now, and legally—well, let's just say, some things are coming due."

He opened the folder and pulled out a few pages, slid them into her hands. Old estate paperwork. Land registry documents. Bank account details. And her name — "Lady Harper Grace Whiatt" — right there, typed in thin, haughty letters.

She stared at it. "What is..."

"It is all yours," he said gently. "Left to you by your father. It was meant to become accessible upon your sixteenth birthday, barring any specific contest. Your mother..." He trailed off. "She was aware of your main trust-fund, but your father was worried that she might— well, I'm sure you understand."

Oscar leaned over to glance at the documents. His mouth opened, then shut again.

Harper still hadn't spoken. Her throat felt dry.

"She loved him," she said finally. "My mum. But she hated everything about his family."

Thomas gave a sharp little smile. "Yes, well. She made that abundantly clear. But hate does not negate legal reality."

There was a long pause. Outside, the wind rattled the old glass panes.

"And your, um, baby?" Thomas asked carefully, glancing at her belly, still small but no longer invisible. "Healthy?"

"Yes. Why?" Harper said, eyes narrowing.

"It could complicates things. The trust wasn't written with a... continuation clause. We may need to involve a solicitor."

Oscar stepped forward. "You don't get to use legal language to scare her."

"I'm not trying to scare anyone," Thomas said calmly. "I'm trying to be honest. Your child, Harper, will be entitled to things too. In time."

Harper looked down at the paper again. Her father's name. Her own. Words like "estate" and "trustee" and "inheritance".

Then, in a whisper, "Why didn't you come before now?"

Thomas blinked. His expression cracked slightly. "I was asked not to."

"By my mum?"

He nodded once.

Harper swallowed. Then she folded the paper back into the folder, held it tight to her chest like a shield. "I'm not a Lady. I'm just... I'm just a girl trying to get through her GCSEs. I live in a dorm with a bunch of boys who eat cereal out of mugs. I'm fifteen and pregnant. And now you're telling me that I've inherited... all of this?"

Thomas looked like he didn't quite know what to say.

Oscar put a hand on her back.

Harper looked up at him. She didn't say anything.

"I'll leave the documents with you," Thomas said finally. "And if you need help... I'm not your father, Harper. But I did love him. And I'd like to know you. If you'll let me."

He gave her a shallow bow, then turned and left — expensive shoes echoing off the flagstone floor.

Silence dropped in his wake.

"Did that actually just happen?" Oscar asked.

"I don't know," Harper said, staring down at the folder in her hands. "But I think I just inherited two million pounds and an estate."

Oscar blinked. "That's mental."

"Completely," she muttered. "Absolutely mental."

Then she looked at him and added, "It might... it might make things easier, though. Won't it? You won't have to rely on your parents to keep paying for you to race, Osc." She breathed.

He frowned at her. "It's your money."

"We're a family now. We made that decision together." She said, quietly. "I don't need that much money, Osc. We'll be smart with it. Invest it in your career. Doesn't that make sense?"

She was starting at him so earnestly.

He held her. Leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers. "Think about it."

"I've thought about it." She said. "It's ours. We'll use it to make sure our baby gets the best of everything, and that you get the opportunity to get to the top. Yeah?"

"Yeah. Okay." He whispered. "Okay. This is insane, but... okay."

"We do this together, Osc. Everything." She told him. "The exams. The baby. Your career. My career. I'll be able to pay for a coding course and invest in my own projects." She said. Her eyes were sparkling. "I love you. And we're going to do this together, or not at all."

"Marry me." Was all he said.

She jerked away and laughed. "Shut up. We're fifteen!"

"Marry me." He said again.

She rolled her eyes. "We've got Chemistry in ten minutes, Piastri."

"Okay." He said. He was staring at her and smiling. "Okay, babe. Let's go to Chemistry."

NEXT CHAPTER

[pumpkinpaix]

Very curious for your opinion- what do you think of it when people write modern au wwx as being very active in social justice movements? Personally, I can buy it but I don't think it should be a given?

maybe an unwise first question to pick out of my moldering askbox but whatever it's the first one that i felt like i had an answer prepared for off the cuff so yolo i guess!!

short answer: at this point, i don't buy it. It's a detail that I can and have put up with for fics i really like for other reasons, but i think it's pretty far off the mark in terms of how I understand wei wuxian's primary motivating forces.

ok now to get into the weeds! :D

there are several reasons why wei wuxian being heavily involved in social justice movements doesn't ring true to me--the easiest one to point to from outside the narrative is that the sort of activism wei wuxian is written to participate in is often modeled on how social justice circles look in the US. It feels really culturally alienated in a lot of ways. I can't really blame authors for this, though, because it's a very understandable approach to write what you're familiar with--but it does often take me out of the story because i find it kind of jarring, especially if the story in question is ostensibly supposed to be set in China where modern social activism necessarily looks very different than in the states.

but that kind of feels like metagaming the question, so: in terms of interpreting the text, i really just don't think wei wuxian would be inclined to that kind of work for two main reasons.

first: I think he'd be really bad at it lol. social activist movements are necessarily collaborative, and wei wuxian is kind of terrible at playing well with others, compromising, discussing, etc. he often favors action over diplomacy and has terrible impulse control, tending to act first, think later, often to pretty devastating consequences for the people he's ostensibly standing up for. See: antagonizing Wen Chao, which precipitates the chain of events that ultimately leads to the massacre at Lotus Pier; confronting the jins and basically threatening to kill everyone at jinlin tai if they opposed him, thus alienating all his potential allies and leaving the wen remnants essentially completely dependent on his individual power for survival etc. thus dooming them entirely when he died.

(also see: "can we stop talking and just start killing each other" at guanyin temple)

even really minor events in the past show the same kind of pattern, such as at the qishan conference when he throws his support behind wen ning as an archery competitor--wen ning panics in the spotlight and flubs his shots to public ridicule from being put on the spot. jiang cheng is the one who drags him away in mortification while wei wuxian simply doesn't give a shit about how it reflects upon him, not really considering how it might reflect on his sect.

i'm not saying that these were "wrong" actions to take in the moment: wei wuxian has an admirable righteous streak. he does not, however, always take other people into consideration when he makes his decisions. he basically ignores anyone who tries to change his behavior, sometimes carelessly, sometimes reacting with anger (Jiang Cheng, Lan Wangji, literally everyone post-sunshot frankly). that kind of individualist mentality is really ill-suited to activism, which requires an understanding that the individual has less power than the group and that you cannot bend the world around you. a lot of fandom comes down super hard on characters like jiang cheng and yu ziyuan for the things they say to wei wuxian, but i think they're honestly quite understandable, even if the way they express themselves is sometimes cruel or hurtful. the rationale isn't particularly surprising. It's one thing to act in a way that gets yourself hurt. It's another to do so when you know that your position will drag a whole lot of others down with you.

i feel that even if wei wuxian had the interest in joining a social activist group, he would probably eventually butt heads with the others until they either expelled him or he left himself. his thick skin would be a great tool in certain calculated actions (he would do very well as a symbol or a charismatic fall guy) but unfortunately, he's not very good at listening or adhering to a plan.

second: i just don't think wei wuxian thinks about systems of oppression very much. i summarized how i feel about his relationship to class already in this post from like 4.5 years ago (jeez.....) and I still stand by it! wei wuxian is not particularly class conscious because he is, in fact, relatively wealthy. he also like, pretty clearly doesn't think very hard about women's work or status either, except in personal terms--after all, he plays with A'Yuan frivolously, planting him in the dirt and does not think about the kind of work that goes into maintaining a standard of living, which is often women's work. (before anyone says anything, yes, i am aware he is not outright misogynist about women's work). throughout the text, wei wuxian just doesn't put a whole lot of thought into how a woman's gender might affect her status and power.

furthermore, this is kind of mentioned in the class meta, but again--wei wuxian's defense of the wen remnants isn't singularly motivated by the desire to uplift an oppressed class, because the wens are not an oppressed class. They are a sect, which is both familial and alliance-based, not an ethnic group or a class of people. Their treatment is still unconscionable, but it's not systemic oppression. the attempted killing of all the wens is not much different than xue yang's vendetta against the yueyang chang clan, except in scale. and until wen qing comes and personally begs him to help her find her brother, wei wuxian doesn't really have any thoughts to spare for the wen remnants and how they might be faring. he goes to help wen qing and wen ning because he owes them both a serious personal debt, which is something that he feels strongly about! and once he gets to the camps, he obviously isn't going to just ignore the other people suffering (esp because they are the wen sibs' immediate family). he is righteous, after all, but often fails to apply it in a big-picture way.

wei wuxian cares a lot about paying back those who have been kind to him or have helped him, which is pretty evident through his self-sacrificing streak throughout the narrative. he often forgets or deliberately does not take his own well-being into consideration--but, as established, he also forgets that he is not an isolated entity and that his well-being is tied to the well-being of others as well.

throwing himself in front of the brand to save mianmian, making sure everyone else gets out of the cave before he does, immediately coming to terms with having his right hand cut off, giving up his golden core, publicly distancing himself from yunmeng, personally defending the wen remnants, taking jin ling's curse mark onto himself, making himself into the yin flag at the second siege and so on--it's all one long extension of paying back debts, in some way.

personally, I think this is because he considers his entire life to be one that is owed--his life, his skills, his body etc. is all owed to others. I also think, however, that this tendency is often confused by fandom into characterizing wei wuxian as having low self-esteem, which he patently does not. wei wuxian thinks he's hot shit. he's arrogant, a show-off, and is so insistent in his own skills and abilities that he icaruses himself into literal bits. when he thinks he's about to lose his right hand he's like welp. guess i gotta learn how to do this with my left, without really any question about whether or not he can. of course he can! he's wei wuxian! can he bring wen ning back from the dead? for sure!! definitely!!!! can he totally do this night hunt blindfolded? hell yeah he can! and he's usually right. i think wei wuxian has very low self-worth, which is a different thing: he throws himself away at the drop of a hat for others that he cares about or feels indebted to because, whether consciously or unconsciously, he thinks that their well-being, survival, happiness etc. is something he should ensure at any cost, even himself because he owes it to them. he owes his whole existence!

so circling back to the initial topic, I think this pattern of thinking is pretty at odds with social activism. he puts those he feels he owes above himself, but doesn't have a lot of attention to spare for people he considers irrelevant--which is most people. (never learning jin zixun's name, for example). I think that while he understands the nature of systems of oppression to a certain degree (like, he understands jin guangyao's motivations, but he's not particularly interested or sympathetic), it's not something he's really passionate about correcting. his reaction mostly seems to be like "well, that sucks". he only really goes out of his way to defend those that he has personal affairs with or those that happen to pique his notice

wei wuxian doesn't actually have big-picture ambitions. he didn't want to be a leader of anything or start his own sect or anything else. he doesn't spend much of his thoughts on making a better world so much as how he might be able to be content in the world that exists with the people that he cares about. that kind of self-focused drive leaves me unconvinced that he would get involved in social justice in any meaningful way in a modern au. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i think that makes him a really fun protagonist, tbh. the tension between his selfishness and his propensity for self-sacrifice makes for a very interesting dynamic.

.....

:'] i guess i never left the weeds.

(ko-fi)

[demilypyro]

Ok so as someone who knows very little about sonic characters that aren't the main cast. Can you explain to me who Surge is? (I am asking you to infodump. I understand I could just check the wiki but then you wouldn't get to talk about a character you like)

Alright you asked for it. Long post attack.

So Eggman had this protege named Doctor Starline, who had a falling out with his mentor and hatched a plan to kill Sonic and replace him with a new hero, one who would take Sonic's place in the eyes of the people but be under his control.

So he kidnapped a random girl off the street (no name or history known at this point), filled her with a bunch of cybernetics to give her superpowers, and slowly brainwashed and trained her into becoming essentially Sonic's equivalent of Wario.

This was Surge the Tenrec.

As Sonic's so-called "imposter," Surge is like an exaggerated version of Sonic. She has his heroic heart, but also his temper, his pride, his irresponsibility, his rudeness, all turned up to 11. She's got the standard super speed, as well as electrokinesis - lightning powers. She's accompanied by Kitsunami, or just Kit, a blue fennec with water powers and a similar background, but who was based on Tails instead.

As part of their brainwashing, Surge was conditioned to hate Sonic. As Surge's backup, Kit was conditioned to want to support Surge in any way he can.

Surge and Kit eventually found out what had happened to them, how Starline had kidnapped and brainwashed them, and were planning to betray him. Before they could, however, Starline was killed, after being thoroughly trounced by Eggman, leaving Surge and Kit free to do whatever they want.

When Surge finally encountered Sonic, she blamed him for what had happened to her. She holds him responsible for always letting Eggman survive to come back another day, leading to ever-escalating conflict. While before she had no real reason to hate him beyond her brainwashing, all that baseless animosity now had a foundation, and she's wanted to take him down since. Surge and Kit have had several fights with Sonic and Tails already, and while they were defeated each time, it's clear they pose a real threat.

Left with only each other, and having no real goals beyond taking down Sonic and Tails, and no hints to their past, Surge and Kit became a neutral force of chaos, not affiliated with either Sonic or Eggman. While Surge has the desire to be a hero, she can't let go of her grudge toward Sonic, and Kit's obsession with helping Surge regularly shows itself to be unhealthy, which may lead to a falling out between them in the future.

Since their first appearance in the Impostor Syndrome mini-series, they've made regular appearances in the main comic starting with issue #50. They've been making waves, establishing new rivalries and inciting new conflicts. Sonic wants to believe there's good in Surge, but she's a tough nut for him to crack.

Surge is one of the series' best original characters. Surge is cool, has an interesting origin, and she contrasts Sonic in a way that gives ample opportunities for new stories. She's got a good heart, but she's carrying around a ton of trauma and animosity she doesn't know what to do with. She's scrappy, resourceful, and more introspective than you might expect. And by often being positioned as the underdog, she's very easy to root for.

I was always a bit uninterested in the Sonic series at large, but Surge really got me on board. She really made me a fan.

She's my favorite Sonic character.

If you're interested, look into the Imposter Syndrome mini-series, which leads right into Sonic IDW issue #50, or you can just read Sonic IDW from the start.

Okay bye

[asha-mage]

🌶️

The MCU's Spiderman is not a poor execution of Peter Parker's character concept. He's not even poor execution of Miles Morales's character concept.

He is a poor execution of Terry McGinnis's character concept.

Peter Parker and Miles Morales both have so many fundamental pieces to their characters that are just missing for the MCU's Spiderman. Familiar names are floating around him- Aunt May, Mary Jane, Ganke Lee- but the fundamental ideas that make up Peter or Miles arcs just are not there. Themes like Miles's family expectations, Peter's constant money struggles, and the balancing act of doing good vs trying to live your own life are all absent. Even the idea of power and responsibility isn't properly introduced until the THIRD MOVIE when that really should been the central theme from the beginning.

Rather the MCU Spiderman has way more parallels with Terry McGinnis. Both are young hot shot teenagers who end up being taken under the wing of established and experienced hero who is on their way out. Both have complex relationships with their mentor which in a lot of ways serves as the driving force of their character arcs. Both gain high tech suits which enable their heroism. Both are viewed (or at least supposed to be viewed in MCU Peter's case) as heirs to the legacy of this hero.

It falls apart when you get into how they are different. While Uncle Ben is implied to have existed and be dead by the time MCU Peter is introduced in Civil War it's never actually confirmed and never properly comes up. Meanwhile the death of Terry's father is essentially the inciting incident of Batman Beyond: it's what motivates and drives Terry and the murder and it's fallout are the main focus of the first two episodes of Batman Beyond.

What's more MCU Peter's relationship to Tony is grounded in the fact that Tony just shows up one day and essentially taps him to join the Avengers. Bruce by contrast initially tosses Terry out on his ear, and when Terry turns up seeking justice for his father Bruce can't offer him anything but 'go ask the cops for help', and when that goes exactly as poorly as Terry said it would, Terry breaks into the manor steals the Batsuit and goes to stop Powers himself. Terry has active agency in his own choice to be a hero, which helps define his relationship with Bruce and to heroism. While MCU Peter was doing his own superheroics prior to Tony showing up in Civil War (not that he ever does much of that in future movies) his relationship to Tony is defined by Peter's dependence on him and his quest for Tony(/the Avengers)'s approval. And because they don't even bother name drop Uncle Ben or flashback to him, we're left with the impression that the main thing driving MCU Peter is that quest for approval. His motivations are never more complexly explored, and we don't even really see him just running around Queens stopping muggings or car crashes or anything that hints he enjoys or feels the need to actually help people.

And I think that gets into the final and most important difference between the two. Gotham not only needs Batman, it visibly and obviously and terribly needs Batman. Batman Beyond leans into this because decades without a Batman have left Gotham a cyperbunk dystopian hellscape. The city needs someone to stand up to the darkness, to be a symbol of hope, to be aspirational. Terry taking up that mantel means fighting supervillains, yes- but mostly it means doing what the original Batman did. Solving murders, stopping muggings, rescuing people from burning buildings or fighting off street gangs like the Jokerz.

But even in the earliest MCU movies, New York only needs superheroes when the current world ending threat shows up. Otherwise the city is all bright shinny clean streets filled with haplessly content citizens. This is the only reason that Vision's position of 'Our very strength invites challenge' in Civil War makes any sense- because the only purpose of these Superheroes is usually to fight a threat they where somehow responsible for creating. And this problem hits 'friendly neighborhood Spiderman' the hardest because he only has a responsibility to use his great power to solve problems, if their are problems in need of solving. Most of Peter Parker's (and Miles Morales's, Gwen Stacy's, or any other Spiderperson's) day is not fighting alien armies or netherworld gods. It's stopping break ins, rescuing people from car crashes, or dealing with other small scale local threats, that none the less benefit from someone with his abilities to make them better. Either New York in the MCU is an ideal utopian city where the police have everything handled apparently (which ha!) or Peter is apparently not interested in stopping bad things from happening. He spends so much of the first movie basically begging Tony to give him superhero things to do, not realizing that he could go outside and find people that need help on his own.

In conclusion MCU Peter Parker isn't 'regular Peter Parker but not an underdog', or even 'Miles Morales but white'. He's 'Terry McGinnis but without any agency in his own heroism'.

[dark-konohagakure2]

If you can, I'd like something dark with gaara and breeding, like a breeding program to preserve the best of his genes.

tw: dub/noncon, power imbalance, breeding, mild misogyny, mating press, domestication, rough sex

All characters depicted are 18+

Gaara has never given marriage and children much thought, he has his desires like any other man, but he largely suppresses them due to his busy life, but after Temari marries outside the village and has a son, a son that could one day become Kazekage, the demands for Gaara to have a child coming from the village elders get all the more frequent and insistent.

While Gaara already has a child, Shinki is his son by adoption, and the higher ups want a child of Gaara's own flesh and blood, initially Gaara doesn't really see the difference, to him blood doesn't define family, but he goes along with the demands regardless, albeit reluctantly.

When the fateful day comes and Gaara is to conceive his heir, he's initially reluctant and even somewhat nervous, a rare feeling for the stoic Kazekage, but when he actually sees the girl he's to breed with (who looks even more reluctant), Gaara's hesitancy fades away, he was worried he'd have to sleep with someone too young or too old, but when he sees that his partner is someone his age and beautiful, he starts to feel all the more eager.

He mostly ignores her cries as he gets on top of her, lifting her legs up next to her as he gets into a position that will ensure maximum deep penetration, but Gaara isn't heartless, and he'll reassure her if she's struggling and crying too much.

"Shhh, there now, it's okay. I'm sure you'll be a great mother for our children, I'm sure of it. Now stop struggling, or I might have to be more forceful."

Being both the Kazekage and a single father is very stressful job, and his rough thrusts will reflect his frustrations, his cock ramming down into her fertile cunt hard and fast, leaving her whimpering and quivering underneath the stoic redhead.

Gaara doesn't understand why she isn't enjoying it, he was under the impression that girls liked it rough, but she isn't liking it at all, in all his inexperience he wrongly believes that he's not being rough enough with her, and that's why she doesn't like it, so he'll pound into her even harder in response.

Once he finally does cum inside of her, which doesn't take too long due to his sexual sensitivity, Gaara makes sure that he's cumming directly into her womb, his body weight pressed fully down on hers as he groans quietly, his pent up seed filling up her insides.

Gaara won't stop his efforts to breed her even after he finishes inside her for the first time, he wants to ensure beyond a shadow of a doubt that he gets her knocked up, both to satisfy the demands of the elders and for his own desires, so he's going to cum inside of her until he can't anymore.

"There we go, good girl... You'll be a great mother, and a good wife too... Now, time for round two, I want my Shinki to have a lot of siblings..."

Gaara makes a mental note to sign some marriage papers as soon as he's finished, he initially thought that all he had to do was cum inside of her and be done with it, but he's found himself quite smitten with the woman underneath him, and plans to act on his newfound affection by making her his permanently.

[cursedcola]

Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde (Here) | Diasomnia (Here) A/N: HUZZAH YET ANOTHER SERIES FINALLY COMPLETE

Habits You Steal:

Heels (Developed): Malleus is quite tall. No, scratch that. He towers over everyone. The horns give him an added height that really sells the deal. Unless you want to crane your neck back and develop a hump? It's wise to start wearing heels.

Prose (Inherited): Malleus. We love his little riddles and mysterious aura . He obviously read the wrong script and came straight out of an early 2000s YA novel named 'Evermore' or something akin. Yet he quite literally cannot get to the point sometimes. It’s a Diasomnia thing for sure but he’s the worst of the litter. It's infuriating. On one hand, your vocabulary has vastly improved. If only he could rub off on Grim, Professor Trein would be ecstatic. The problem is that sometimes you lapse into an 18th century sonnet, and your friends give maximum shit for it. Especially Ace. No mercy.

“Apologies everyone, it’s now past twilight hour and both the prefect and I need to conclude our evening agenda. Please excuse our absence and continue to delight in the night’s festivities.”-> Dear god Malleus - just say you’re going to walk them home and that you’ll see everyone in the morning. The misunderstandings that come from using big words is worse than sounding improper.

Sleeping on your side (Developed): Malleus requires a special pillow to sleep and it's one of those long ones that is positioned center of the bed. Most nights he rests like the dead, flat on his back so his horns don't tear the cloth. Laying on his side is a challenge, but he also wants to be touching you. It's one of those scenarios where once someone who's touch starved gets a taste, they can't go back. So most nights you'll sleep on one side (doesn't matter which) with either your head on his chest or your arms wrapped around one of his. Oh yeah - you get to keep one of those fancy pillows in Ramshackle. It's stored in a spare room but grim steals it quite a bit since the quality is high. The nights Malleus isn't around, you'll wake up with Grim smothered in your arms instead. Guess the whole 'can't go back' thing doesn't apply ONLY to Malleus here.

Luck (Inherited?): Fae blessings are a thing - we have confirmation within a 'discussion' during the main plot. I won't say when to avoid spoilers. Point is, the partner of Malleus Draconia most definitely has fae favorability cast upon them. You could make a HEFTY deal with Azul if he ever found out, so maybe keep the knowledge in your back pocket for a rainy day. Maybe offer to sit by him during a game of poker? Haha, no. You're actually 100% unaware. Only other fae can sense a blessing, and Lilia isn't a snitch. Expect your luck to turn around. Perhaps not entirely, but enough for the grey hairs to stop sprouting prematurely. It's difficult for other fae and supernatural to sense who placed a blessing, but they can recognize raw power. There is only one person on campus with enough magical potency to cast such a powerful charm. All thy need is two brain cells to connect the dots (some do lack this, unfortunately). You won't be sucked into any messes such as the Ghost Bride, etc. anymore, at the very least.

"Hm? I've little to no involvement with the others in my dorm, dearest. Yet, is it not a good happenstance that they treat you with the upmost respect? Do other dorms behave so uncouth that you are wary of proper manners? Diasomnia would welcome you, all you need do is ask." <- It is technically not a lie? He's not explicitly making anyone behave a certain way, but surely the strong aura acts as a deterrent for anyone with bad intentions. It just so happens that most fae-born students reside in Diasomnia. Not that he'd take kindly to any of his acting like anything but proper gentlemen towards you. This includes Sebek, by the way. The tonal whiplash with this one is insane the moment he recognizes Malleus' magic.

Gargoyles (Inherited): There is not much to say on this topic. Malleus is the sole member of Gargoyle Studies, and while he won't force you to join? It would make him very happy. You will become accustomed to travel and find comfort in desolate places. The dewy chill in deep ruins, nature's overgrowth from time's passing - certainly Malleus revisits places he once knew held life, and have been left to deteriorate. You can't truly feel the heavy nostalgia as Malleus can, but the appreciation is still shared.

"I once deeply enjoyed the solitude of ruins. The weathering of time somehow captured in architecture. Trapped in place as the world continued to live on. Yet I now find more joy in sharing them with you, rather than basking in their atmosphere alone. It perplexes me, and yet I find no problem with it." -> Malleus discovered the happiness that comes from simply being near someone you love. He just...doesn't realize it yet? It's a difficult feeling to characterize in words. Different than with his family, certainly. The entire point of going to a ruin was to enjoy the abandoned atmosphere. Malleus cares for his family yet there is a divide. Unspoken, and unable to be crossed. His world turns while he remains at a stand still. Yet whenever he discovers a new ruin, he couldn't find that tranquility he used to. Enjoying it alone is almost unthinkable - harrowing. He can't without you, or else it feels lacking. Even if you sit together in silence, he'd be happy. He just wants you there, your reactions, your company - it brings life back to the emptiness. Leaving the place more harmonious than he found it, coating it with pleasant memories for future visits. Hopefully ones where he is not alone.

Habits He Steals:

Artistry (Developed): Malleus has plenty of time to develop skills. The resources as well. He's fearful that one day your memory will become just that - a memory. One where he cannot picture your face in his mind. Where he's the only one left who recalls your existence. Be it because you pass on, or decide to leave him prematurely and return 'home'. Even if he firmly believes that there is nowhere more 'home' for you than in Twisted Wonderland. Regardless, he doesn't trust others enough. He needs to capture your likeness on his own. With his hands rather than magic - even if using magic to do so is child's play. He does not tell anyone of this budding desire or disquiet in his heart. Not even Lilia, who's likeness is forever immortalized in textbooks. The unspoken implications are too much for Malleus to confront.

People Watching (Inherited): It’s a work-in-progress, getting Malleus to see people as…well, ‘people’ and not subjects or those he’s obligated to protect. To cure his social awkwardness, there’s a need to get him ‘loosey-goosey’ and in touch with improv. What better way than to people watch? Except you don’t just sit there with him to observe. Malleus is thrown for a loop when you start making up backstories for everyone - based on their clothes, what they might be doing, or whatever else. None of it’s true. The ideas are all super embellished and with characterization holes…but it’s fun, and it gets him to think about how specific a person’s life can become, whether they live a lengthy life or not. Something utterly pointless to do, suddenly becomes one of Malleus’ favorite pass times.

Earth Slang (Inherited): It's a give and trade scenario. He improves your vocabulary, while you do Lilia proud by being the newest gremlin on Malleus' shoulder. Rather than teaching him Twisted Wonderland slang, it's much more entertaining for him to learn Earth lingo. Which is different. It's our metaphors, legends, and phrases like 'it's raining cats and dogs'. You're going to talk in SpongeBob quotes to him and he's going to believe it's philosophical. How novel, indeed. He gets to learn more about you as a person, and you get to have a bit of fun while also fostering a language shared only amongst the two of you? Like a secret code that friends have, or lovers? Huhu. It's not hard to crack at all but still fun.

"Hm? An 'updog'? Is this another saying or legend from your world? No, I have never heard of an 'updog' anywhere in Briar Valley. What is an 'updog'? A terror of some kind?" <- Heh.

Domestic Tasks (Inherited): Be still Sebek's heart, because bro might need to be resuscitated. Malleus wants to help you. Except he's found a situation where there isn't anything he can offer? Sure, he can offer coin and trinkets. Anyone can. It also is not his place to insert himself and solve your problems. You're an independent human and he isn't foolish enough to overstep that. So? Acts of service, even if said acts are 'beneath' him. This revolves back to him simply enjoying your presence, no matter what. Since you come with him to enjoy hobbies, it's only fair he does the same. Now he doesn't fully believe that you 'like' cleaning, but it's what you do most. So he'll help hang the sheets outside and then cast wind magic so they dry faster. He'll set up security charms outside Ramshackle, and enchant the paint brushes to freshen up your fence while you both share a pot of tea on the porch. You seem happy, and even a tad amused. So he'll relinquish some pride. If only for you to smile.

“Do all without magic need to take such…’extreme’ measures to clean windows? Please do not perch on the sill like this when I am not near. Else allow me this task, a simple water spell is far more proficient and safe” -> Man catches you ONE TIME, leaning out one of the second story windows to clean the outside glass and his heart skips a beat. Not that you wouldn’t make a lovely gargoyle on the roof, but spare him. He cannot fathom why one of the ghost residents can’t do it in your stead, but Malleus much prefers your feet planted on firm flooring (who’s going to tell him about all the holes and weak floorboards in Ramshackle?)

Nicknames (Developed): Malleus ceases calling you 'Child of Man'. There are many other children of men. It just so happens to be his default when you met. You are more. Much more. Which is why you cannot be his 'Child of Man'. Malleus actually takes to calling you your name more often than not. Names are meaningful, after all. Yet he dubs you 'Mooncalf' as well.

“Mooncalves are beautiful creatures that inspire. A name given to ‘those who dream’. That is what you do, is it not? Dream, and bring novel ideas that spark life in others.”

Strength (Developed): This is quite difficult. Controlling his strength when touching another is like trying to crack an eggshell with a power-saw. Yet the more you are together, the more he desires to touch you. So he has to learn. Since if he ever injured you, Malleus would never forgive himself. Often he hovers near, guiding you yet never making direct contact. His palm hovering near the small of your back as you walk, or taking extreme care when holding your arm. He's broken more teapots than you can count, and it takes months to share a bed. The fear of hitting you in his sleep caused insomnia for days...just, goodness. Don't even start on his tail. That thing has a mind of it's own.

"Fascinating...Hm?. No, no. I am by no means upset. Quite the contrary. Could I trouble you to humor my curiosity with examples? Oho, this is a wonderful evening indeed." <- Malleus showcases one of his pointed smiles - chin grasped between thumb and index as he listens intently to his juniors go in great detail about how you've begun to resemble him. The one other students will shy away from, but little do they know just how genuinely overjoyed he is. At first they showed mild distaste for the Ramshackle Prefect daring to go after someone like Malleus Draconia, yet all know better than to admit such a thing to his face. Else pity the fool. Yet nothing could dour his mood, their formal report reading like a lovestory in his mind. It is not that he is 'naive' to your mannerisms. You are always changing - as are many - and he would not dare to make any assumptions. Yet if others are noting these subtle changes as well? Malleus is...overwhelmed. Joy, appreciation, humor, and a bit unsettled if one asked for full honesty. If you are admiring him, including him in your person, as much as he is to you? It's an intimate commitment that comes once in a lifetime for his kind. He needs to think, but for now he will enjoy the 'implications' as much as he can.

Habits you steal:

Light Feet (Inherited): The king of jump-scares, ladies and gentlemen. Lilia is quite the cheeky fellow. He wades through corridors, skulking around like a bat on the walls. Both body and humor seem to ascend to new heights with this one - who without a moment's hesitation will drag you into his schemes. You may not be able to float, but that is no excuse to clomp about like an oaf! No, my doves, the greatest joys in life come from a good thrill. Others learn to keep a keen eye out for this bat's lover, as you slink about and appear at the most random moments.

"Oho!....my, my - your stealth is improving by the day. Don't get too cocky now, else I'll be forced to show you how a professional jump-scare is done!" <- Leona KingScholar himself has threatened to stick a bell collar on you, those from Savanaclaw taking a step back as you begin to resemble the more worrisome Diasomnia residents by the day. Dropping from treetops and banisters aplenty, the trickster ghosts at Ramshackle love their new fourth (and fifth, counting the ancient bat who haunts the halls just as much as they do).

Impish Glint (Inherited): Kehehehe~ it's physically impossible not to mimic that mischief laden smile of Lilia's! It's not as intimidating without the fangs and blood-red eyes, yet still oh-so charming. Why, the bat himself finds it positively adorable. It's one thing to have others call him cute - he now gets to witness the effect first-hand. The fact others can point your resemblance to him is just an added bonus. All you're missing now is the pink streak in your hair...can he? It would make such a lovely memory!

"Well aren't you just the most fetching gremlin this world has ever seen. Come along dear, I want to stir some youthful envy!"

Nose Picking (Inherited): Just kidding lol.

Historical Info-Dumping (Developed): One can only be corrected so many times before learning a topic inside-and-out. History lessons are a breeze with a personal dictionary at your disposal. Lilia is happy to help, but get ready for long stories with his bias weaved in-between. He never outright lies though, and it's a fine evening to sit with him by firelight and talk the night away over junk food. Treat it like hearing the story of an elder veteran. Except Lila has hundreds of stories to tell. There will come a day where your knowledge abut Twisted Wonderland extends far beyond what you ever knew of Earth - and you are the person people come to for notes. Even the studious Riddle Rosehearts trusts your word-of-mouth as much as his precious texts (only for history though, fair warning).

Speed Dial Takeout (Developed): This one is self-explanatory. Lilia's curiosity in the kitchen isn't something you want to deter him from. Let bro live his life, so long as it doesn't lead to the end of yours. It took months to find the TWST equivalent of speed-dial Chinese, yet a slip to Azul along with some recipes was enough to get the ol' ball and chain rolling. The food already exists, but you just had to plant some ideas to make sure that 3am last-second-craving availability was indeed an option.

"Don't look so glum now - once the oven is fixed I'll whip up a batch of Silver's favorite Mushroom Bisque! Ah - there's no need to cry. Now where did I put those takeout menus...." <- Now it's just Lils, Silver, and yourself chilling out at midnight with some egg rolls and moo-goo-gai pan after the fourth oven's been blown up in the past year. Thank Seven Malleus worked a plan with Azul set up a chain in Briar Valley, else y'all would starved.

Briaran (Inherited) : Briar Valley is indeed a land of tradition. You don’t need to learn their language to converse with fae. Most people in TWST are Bilingual - knowing common tongue and that of their homeland. Plus there are spells to help. Very few speak the ancient dialect from hundreds of years ago, which dwindled out after the war between man and fae with the ushering of a new generation. You already speak common tongue, but as for Lilia? Fluent in multiple languages. Ancient Briaran being one he slips in from time to time. You will undoubtably pick up many phrases of Briaran. Especially when he converses with Malleus, Silver, and on occasion Sebek. The third still a beginner to his personal chagrin. It’s like being a child in an immigrant household where your elders talk in their native tongue when they don’t want you to understand the conversation, so as a kid you gradually put together meanings through context. Y’know, as they go in between languages.

"I hadn't thought it possible to fall fall deeper in love - yet as always, you continue to surprise me." <- Lilia never asked you to learn, but nothing makes him melt faster than seeing you pick it up. You’re listening to him. He won’t ever jest over this, no matter how tempting, afraid it might deter you. He adores the way you mumble words under your breath, even if they’re mispronounced. He will only interfere if you ask, and be more than willing to teach. Ask him.

Habits He Steals:

Walking (Developed): Aside from when he's cheeky and looking to have some fun? Lilia will not float near you. He prefers to walk, feet firm on the ground, his hand in yours and enjoy the sweet serenity. There isn't a need to rush. Not anymore. Strolls with Malleus are a commonly discussed subject, but with Lilia? It's less like a sonnet in steps and more akin to walking the streets on a cold, winter night. Plenty of laughter as your linked arms swing between. Somehow slowing your steps on purpose, drawing out the time shared. Even if your lungs hurt a bit and joints are stiff. You don't have to. He could easily zip you both wherever need be, but the journey is part of the fun. He's gone his entire life at differing paces - and now Lilia is happy to match his final gait alongside yours.

Repeating Others (Developed): This goes hand-in-hand with you learning Briaran. Without prompting, Lilia will often repeat things his sons just said in common tongue. Sometimes dropping context clues so you can piece things easier. Not in a way that makes it obvious for you (sparing your feelings), but definitely noticeable to others in the Valley. It's an unspoken understanding not to ask 'why' he repeats himself two maybe three times tops.

"...eh? Scuzele mele. Ne vom întâlni în trei ore pentru antrenament. Da. Pentru practică. Asigurați-vă că nu vă zăboviți, altfel veți rata antrenamentul! - why that face, Sebek? Careful or your muscles will freeze like that khee hee!" <- Does it come unnatural? Maybe, but two out of three of his conversation partners can usually pick up when you're struggling to understand something. Sebek fails, but wouldn't dare question Lilia's speech and risk offending him. Translation: "My apologies. We'll meet in three hours for practice. Yes. For practice. Make sure you don't linger, or you'll miss practice!"

Intimacy (Inherited): Lilia is cheeky with most, but not touchy-feely. Not in the way that matters. He becomes clingy. It's odd being with someone actively seeking to be at his side all the time...and yet he does not mind. Which is unheard of for the loner - he spent 700 years of solo trips, wouldn't change a single one (okay, maybe a few. He could do without some scars), but the taste of a couple's vacation? A couple's intimacy? Romanic candle-lit dinners atop the castle ramparts, legs dangling over the edge as mindless talk comes and goes. Hiking through mountains hand-in-hand. Running raids online, shouting at each other from the next room? Sipping mimosas on a cruise ship - picking out souvenirs for your family an tasting cuisine. Even if it's places he's been before...with you? It's all new.

""You know...it was quite cruel of you to leave me behind. When? On that little journey to Fleur City, of course! Be it ten years ago or not - I understood at the time that it was a decision out of your hands, and yet you hadn't brought me any souvenirs...the hurt lingers to this very day and can only be healed through another vacation, won't you be my guide this time around?"

Normalcy (Developed): Lilia actively pushes the cute bit with others. Many portray his character as two sides of one coin: Lilia the General, and Lilia the Cheeky Prankster. What you get to see is...just Lilia. Not even Lilia The Father - because even with his kids, he has a part to play. Has to set a good example. Is it corny to say that he doesn't have to act cute for you, because he trusts you'll adore him? Isn't that what love is? To truly release your guard around him and not stress? It's like how on earth we all have our work mode, family mode, public mode, and then...well, us. The person we are when in a quiet room, alone, and simply being. That is the Lilia you, and only you, get to see. Lilia wouldn't get involved with someone that couldn't bring this side out of him. The one jamming out to metal while pretzeled on the ground, sifting through his wardrobe and eating burnt crisps out of a bag with chopsticks.

Time (Developed): In his last hundred years of life, with his magic dwindling, Lilia casts a glamour that lets him physically age with you. Not technically a habit, but also something he would never have spared the energy on without you as a deciding factor. Time comes for us all. He’d rather not emphasize this to his sons more than necessary…but they’ll watch you age. In an odd way, this is Lilia’s greatest ode to you. To them. To himself. You won’t have to age alone, watching him in a standstill as he’s been the past 700 years. This is his final thrilling experience, his final adventure- to grey and feel time in his blood beyond magic.

"You are as lovely as the day we first met, dear...surely I'm just as cute too, no?" <- No matter how quick you reply, he still is the same cheeky lil shit at 780 as he was at 700. Only with one heavy case of arthritis.

Nicknames (Developed): Lilia calls you ‘Dove’ for reasons best derived on your own rather than my telling. He will also be an ass and use teasing ones like 'shnookums' and 'poppet', but dove is for the softer times. On very rare occasions he will say ‘inima mea’ which is Romanian for My Heart, also known as Briaran in the world of TWST.

"Why, thank you! Kee hee hee, is it so obvious that I adore my little dove beyond comprehension? I've finally found my 'partner-in-crime' as you kids say, and my days have not been this lively in many years. Humor the musings of this old-timer, enjoy the blessings life offers while they are within your grasp." == Those who have lived as long as Lilia in Briar Valley are witnesses to his personality change. The general from hundreds of years ago is not the same bat flying about. He's a prime example for fae and humans alike that time changes us all - and so he doesn't mind popping in to humor gossiping soldiers. If anything, he hopes his open adoration serves as an example that it's never too late to welcome sweeter things in life. Family, friends, adventure, and even the once in a lifetime 'eternal love'.

Habits you steal:

Calling Lilia ‘Dad’ (Inherited?): Not Father. Just Dad. Daddio. Peepaw. Pops. Ye old man. So informal. So funny. Lilia loves it and Silver turns red every time. One? Because you’re already thinking of him and his Father as your family. Two? Please. Please, let him breathe. Flustered is the most consistent emotion he shows aside from that graceful little smile of his, and people are starting to notice. He’s not used to such bluntness and it’s killing him. You need to be more careful! Not everyone knows about his situation! Lilia is such cheeky as shit over it and teases his son every off moment. Welcome to the Vanrogue’s, my friend. It’s a clusterf*ck. You’re going to love it.

“…N-no, I haven’t seen father since lunch. Perhaps check over near the club rooms. I can escort you before my next lesson, come along and take my hand.” -> Silver will never get used to you asking ‘Hey, have you seen Dad anywhere?’. He bites back the warning for you to lower your volume. It’s turmoil - truly. He doesn’t want you to ‘stop’ per-say…but maybe keep it in private? He adores your energy but the rumors.

Compliments (Inherited): Silver gets plenty of compliments. He’s amazing, after all. This is a habit because his reactions are priceless. Why is it developed? Because the man in question is the most wholesome being to exist. He effortlessly drops one-liners out of thin air, and then has the gull to act confused when you clutch at your chest. Silver is brutally honest when it counts. His words and his reactions are genuine. Truly priceless. His confidence desperately needs that bolstering, so much that you never go a single visit without paying him a compliment. It’s only fair. You do it until he takes them with anything other than a pass off or a denial. Even after, because appreciating Silver is the best part of your day. Congrats. You’re a simp. Big Ol’ simp - side note, being so forward for his sake has turned you confident in other aspects of life as well. Congrats on being the social one.

"Your hands are unnaturally soft for a student. Perhaps I am used to callus' from training, but yours are warm enough to feel through my gloves. I heard once that you can tell a lot about a person by their hands. Yours must reflect a gentle personality, which is true - hm? What's wrong?" <-Wholesome. Fucking wholesome.

Animals (Inherited): How do you feel about woodland creatures? Would you consider raising bunnies, or leaving the window open in the mornings for songbirds to perch? The answer is yes. Always yes. Otherwise they will whack at the glass until you do. Silver is beloved by nature. Being around Silver means being around all the animals that perch at his side when he clocks out in random places. Eventually you'll be waiting with birdseed in your pocket, prepped to distract those that perch on his head. Ramshackle has multiple bird baths out in the gardens, and you've built shelters for the wildlife on campus to camp out in when they visit (always when Silver does. Coincidence? No).

Just Chilling (Developed): Not relationship-exclusive. Any time you find Silver clocked out, it’s instinctual to just drop everything and lay down next to him so it looks like you’re both chilling out. Doesn’t matter if he’s asleep for ten minutes or two hours - you don’t leave him. Not unless someone trustworthy comes to take your place.

Haircuts (Developed): A lil snip here, a chop there - and you're cutting his hair in the kitchen at 9:00pm with one of the old sheets tied loosely around his neck like a bib. All it took was one time for him to nick his ear while doing it himself, and you so graciously forced him in a chair. Now you cut both his and his father's hair. Since Lilia's a little turd, and if Silver gets a freebie than so should peepaw. Briar Valley could use another stylist, y'know. You already have two loyal clients!

"Thank you. My bangs can get in the way of my training, so I try to keep them short. Maybe I should adapt a cut similar to Kalim's?....Why are you looking at me like that?" <- Kalim's hair is adorable, but if Silver cuts off his shimmering silk-soft locks it will literally be a crime against cosmetology.

Alarms (Inherited): You sleep through alarms. There isn't much to say. Have you seen his bedroom? There's like - a dozen clocks in there. The only one that gets him up is you, usually whacking him with a pillow because no amount of love will ever make up for dealing with nonstop ringing every morning. You started off having a near heart attack on the first night. A few years down the road, and it takes about 2-4 of the clocks to go off before you're up.

The Way Of The Sword (Inherited and Developed?): Another one without much to elaborate. Silver insists on teaching you some swordsmanship. He does not play around either, and is a very stern teacher. Lilia engrained the danger of weaponry and battle into him from childhood.

"Steel your nerves. They will only impede your progress. Do not worry about anything other than my instruction while there is a blade in your hand. I am here for that." <-The sword exists to protect, but that does not mean you are invincible. He won't put you through a Knight's training - but as one of the few 'sane' people? Homie, you really need to learn some self defense. It isn't even about his feelings (although he does worry).You are a walking magnet for bad luck, and a firm understanding of defensive combat is necessary so you don't end up dead in a ditch.

Habits He Steals:

Wet Wipes (Developed) : It’s so tempting to draw on Silver when he’s complete zonked out in the ninth dimension. How he hasn’t woken up to any uh…hehe, ‘special’ and ‘totally not vulgar’ images all over him on a daily basis is an honest shock. Especially in a campus full of dudes. Some not so friendly with the whole dorm rivalry going on. Then again…maybe it’s his aura. Drawing a dick on Silver’s forehead feels like a crime punishable by Lilia’s homemade gazpacho.

"...I sense a disturbance." <- Regardless. It’s your civic duty to make him a work of art…much to Silver’s reluctant compliance. Some day’s it’s heartwarming. He’ll wake up and find little hearts on his cheeks, or a note on his collarbone. A lipstick kiss left smack center of his forehead…which takes endless scrubbing to get off before equestrian club. "Mngh...ah, you're here father? I could smell jasmine and oakwood and thought - wait, isn't that MC's pencil case?" <- Other days Silver wakes up covered in tic tac toe games with his father snickering over him and your form making a speedy guilt-ridden retreat off in the distance - and yes, Ramshackle smells of Jasmine and Oakwood. From repairs and the herbal cleanings.

You’ve Got Mail (Developed): Squirrels make good messengers. It helps that you live in a dilapidated dorm with a lovely forest not too far for them to skitter about. It would be troublesome if you lived somewhere like Heartslabyul…Riddle would never allow Silver’s animal friends to stay. Since you’re so open to suggestion, and skittering about yourself, he’s made a habit out of using the animals for communication.

"Please take this gift to them, would you? Today is a special day, I must take precautions not to forget." <- He’s not too big on phones since he might pass out and miss a call…or forget. So Silver likes to pen his notes when he can and trust his little buddies to make sure you get them. It especially helps with big events like anniversaries or days he cannot make it home.

Mints (Inherited): Someone get this man an Altoid, stat. Whatever curse is on his ass, crack open that tin and shove three strong peppermints between his teeth. They’ll spark more than just a crack of the great beyond in him. Giving Silver a tin of strong mints is like giving a Victorian child one singular sour patch kid. You carry the things around to punish Grim. Y’all know it’s bad if the living garbage disposal won’t even eat them….now if we could just somehow compress Lilia’s cooking into a pill form, we might be onto something bigger.

"This is a remedy from your world? Oh - it's candy? Maybe it will work then...thank you. I'll update you if there are any changes."

The Open End (Developed): Silver’s precautions extend to all matters, big or small. He’s trained to be Malleus’ guard since he was a little boy, going through strict training and beyond in order to match royal standards. Some might think him cold, but his father raised him to care deeply, truly, and so he is proactive in ensuring your comfort. When at the cinema, he sits in the inner seat. Both so he’s blocking you from strangers and so you can have the chair with two arm rests. He walks on the street side of the sidewalk, shares his umbrella but covers you fully at the cost of his sleeve, gives you more of the blanket at night and once gave you his shoes when yours were pinching your toes. If there are two cupcakes, he pushes you the one with more sprinkles, and he never forgets to ask how your day is.

"Are you happy today?...I see. That's good. I've been working hard to not disappoint you as a partner. It is nice to know my efforts have been yielding results." <- Ever the hard worker. Silver works on your relationship like it's training - but not in a bad way. He just doesn't want to reflect poorly on you, especially when this is new to him and tracking his performance in a relationship isn't the same as studies or physical training. He could do with some verbal affirmations, just saying.

Smelling Salts (Developed) : Silver does not want to sleep all the time. He is determined to overcome it - and you support him by suggesting method after method. Sometimes it takes an otherworldly person to bring in new ideas? Another cook in the kitchen, y'know. Can you believe that in all of Twisted Wonderland, with their fancy shmancy potions and charms, no one thought to get him military-grade smelling salts (or trigger his fight/flight by putting a bit of Lilia's pot roast in front of his nose)? His curse is potent, but it staves the episode off just enough for him to get to a bench or out of a clearing. I swear - magic spoiled these people. It's a blessing and a curse. It's no cure but he'll take anything at this point. Who knows what other ideas you might bring.

"Mm...thank you. I am lucky to have someone as wonderful as them in my life. I strive to be a good partner and influence. Your compliment makes me quite happy. I will be sure to pass on the message." <- Silver's expressions are typically difficult to read, they're so miniscule. Yet it would take a blind man to miss the way his disposition softens. One might mistake the far-away look in his eye for an incoming siesta, but no. He's merely in love and excited to tell you how appreciative he is to have you in his life. Whatever dreams he has that night, you're in them. As always.

Habits you steal:

Volume (Inherited) : Spoken like a true Queen. Literally. Sebek’s volume blasts your eardrums like a child’s screech plugged into an amplifier broadcasted over the Night Raven intercom. Mans has his vocals, there’s no doubt about it. The thing is that Sebek won’t stop until he’s been heard, so you have to get loud for him to listen. That can be hard to tone down when he’s not around, and you have to remind yourself that Epel will hear you just fine at a level 2 not 6.

"Disrespectful! My human can speak to their desire, apologize for suggesting otherwise this very instant. It is an honor to hear their voice!" <-Aye...sometimes your volume hits the frequency where people cover their ears, just as they do for him. He misinterprets this as a smite on your freedom of speech.

Gotta Keep Up (Developed): Get those legs moving prefect. Ya gotta go sonic fast. Sebek-y long legs over here moves in big strides. Big strides for his big personality. One of his steps is the equivalent to three of yours, no matter how tall or jittery you are. He will out jitter you with his Type-A pacing. You’d think he was on a mission and not on a date with how Sebek zooms through a shopping mall. Sebek, honey, we’re here to buy clothes, not race the evil sales clerk and save Malleus from the storage room.

Bookies (Inherited): You never know when you’ll be stuck waiting around or following Malleus with him. Sometimes it’s a sacrifice you have to make for some quality time together, and it’s not so bad. Malleus is cool with it, Silver’s good company, and Lilia is mildly stressful company. You could just go on your phone to pass the time, but Sebek limits your screen time. No IPad partners or brain rot on his watch. Read a book. Don’t make him quiz you, ‘cause he will.

"I have been thinking to start a book club, and you can be the first among many initiates! This week we will be reading My Liege's autobiography as sourced from the Royal Palace. I can think of no better introduction!" <- Dear god, he'll put in the request too. Stop him. You love Malleus to pieces but 600 pages on his birth alone is just destructive.

Prim and Proper (Developed): It’s a bit hilarious that he takes personal offense when you’re not groomed properly. Especially when near Malleus (of course). If you want to follow with the troupe, you need to look the part. He’d likely ask for a Diasomnia uniform on your behalf if it wasn’t against the school dress code. Secretly though? He enjoys fixing your tie, hair, etc. It makes him feel useful but that sweet emotion gets masked by a scolding.

"Tsk. It is an honor to wear this uniform. You should take precautions to ensure your appearance doesn't reflect on Lord Malleus. As his chosen friend and my partner, you are a representative of Briar Valley. Step forward and allow me to preform an inspection." <- Sebek has more than one jealous bones in his body. They’re all jealous bones. Make sure he’s the one to fix your tie and not Rosehearts, unless you want him to sulk.

Battery Pack (Developed): Lowkey? Sebek zaps you frequently. Think the electric buzz from pulling out a plug too quick. The sparkles come out when he gets very emotional - which is all the time. So…yeah, you might secretly carry ointment for that. Don’t tell him? He feels awful. Not awful enough to stay calm when you ask him to charge your phone. Jokes on him. The anger zap brought it to 100%.

Habits he steals:

Response (Developed): Sebek has this teensey-weensey annoying habit of answering on your behalf. He thinks it a way of proving his devotion. Partners are meant to know each other down to the tiniest detail, no? So when he responds correctly, it’s like he’s passing a test by knowing exactly what you’d want.

"They will do no such thing! Your childish antics will only reflect poorly on your dormitory. You will not taint them into participating in needlessly reckless activities!" <- While his intentions are pure, the act itself can be frustrating. Especially when he puts his values in your mouth when chatting with friends. It’s a work in progress, but he will still become overzealous to order your coffee or recall your schedule if asked.

Handkerchief (Developed): Exchanging handkerchief with one’s partner was a popular courting method in the past. Considering the handkerchief Sebek carries is meant for his lord, him offering it to you is a grand gesture. Especially since he does not replace it with one meant for Malleus, as this is something exclusive to lovers, and carries one from you instead. If you don’t have one? Well - expect to get one asap. Author’s authority dictates that you will not disappoint him.

"The embroidery on this handkerchief is exquisite. According to Master Lilia, it is the same style as lacework from my homeland's establishment...and it is yours. Please accept this as a token of my affections."

Portrait (Developed): Sebek keeps your picture hidden at NRC. There's one stuck between his mattress and the boxboard, one behind his ID card in his wallet, and a small portrait he keeps taped under his deckchair. He cannot properly display it like Malleus' - partially from not wanting to disrespect his Lord and partially from bein emotionally constipated. Expect the exact opposite when he is older though. Listen. Do not try to tell me this man wouldn't commission an extra-large oil painting of his spouse to hang up in his barracks room in the palace. He's literally the blueprint of a fanboy, and if there's no available merch then us nerds get to commissioning.

Escort (Developed): Sebek Zigvolt can and will sit in the husbands' chair while you try on clothes in the store. He will carry your bedazzled hot-pink purse with pride, guarding the thing like it's worth millions. You can leave your cup with this one when at a ball worry-free. You have somewhere to be and he isn't on duty? Sebek is hot on your heels. He has no shame. Better yet? He's the one shaming anyone unable to do such simple things.

Gotta Slow Down (Developed) : Pairs with 'Gotta Keep Up' as he tries to match your stubby legs. At first Sebek attributed your slow pace to a lack of stamina, but no. He's just a jitterbug. Obviously he can't tug you along or stop every other minute for you to catch up either. It's funny watching you both try and forget to consider the other. On loop, a never-ending cycle. NRC hasn't seen a pairing like this in centuries.

Chivalry is not dead (Inherited...just not from you) : Lilia fucks with him and you’re subjected to many, many odd courting attempts…some he unironically takes a liking to.

"What must I do for you to reciprocate my intentions?! I have bestowed pearls shucked with my own hands, invited you to dance under moonlight, hung dried thyme over every door and given earthly offerings to all your kin! I implore you for transparency this instant!" <- Oh...oh, His trust in your batty elder wanes for months after being tricked so cruelly. Only until you accept (out of pity?). Then he feels guilty for ever doubting Lilia and begs for forgiveness. At least life never gets boring? Haha...hah...ha...

‘My human’ (Developed) : Sebek gets hit hard with a crippling awareness for your mental well being. He defended your 'honor' once and had it thrown in his face that he calls you a human more than your own name. Old habits die hard, and he prostrates himself on the ground as an apology. He really didn’t realize it came off so derogatory. Especially considering your relationship. Felt awful. Apologized profusely. Only says it in an affectionate way or with pride now. Tacking in the ‘my’ makes it better somehow? It's a work in progress.

"An apology is in order. My actions until now were unbecoming, and I am truly repentant. I cannot begin to beg for forgiveness, knowing that my words have struck you. I was wrong. You are no mere human, you are my human. A very special one whom I could not have foreseen in this lifetime" <- You know it's bothering him when he takes a gentle tone, looking directly in your eyes with shame open on display. Responsible enough not to look away and face his wrongdoing in the face. Even after you forgive him, Sebek will carry this lesson with him forever.

Flower preference (Inherited): In the language of flowers, which means a great deal to fae kind, he goes for the one associated with your birth month. Carries a pressed one as a bookmark, changes his cologne, and places a vase of blooms by his bedside that never seem to wilt.

"It is an honor! I shall never cease striving to improve. It is only natural that my partner does the same. Your acknowledgement is noted and appreciated. Please continue to treat them well." == Insulting Sebek is a challenge. The comment could be made with the most nasty undertone, but he only hears that you're behaving like a model citizen. You must, if you are beginning to resemble him in so many ways. Hearing that you are a positive influence on him is nothing short of baseline knowledge. Of course you are? He picked you to be his partner? Honestly. If people have time to sit around and gossip, they could go do something more productive.

Habits you steal:

Acronyms (Inherited): Does this truly come as a shock? Big L on your part if so. C'mon, this is Idia we're talking about here. Bro cannot go two sentences without pullin' some quote out of his mental backlog. Since you're stuck in TWST, not watching their culturally founding shows and cartoons is a crime. You'll be speaking in pseudo-lingo like how Spongebob quotes make their own language around these parts.

"Whehehe way to debuff your charisma stat - you might want to craft some mimic gear before Professor Trein locks ya in detention....n-not that I care! It's just that I'll have to solo tonight's raid and you're the one with the rotation buffed character!" <- On one hand? You get all his jokes and are able to translate what he says to other people. That's good. Less work for Idia. On the other hand? You get all his jokes and are able to translate what he says to other people. They're totes going to make fun of you now and it'll be his fault. You'll get lingo-lashed by professors and feel burdened and - okay. He'll shut up now.

Evil Laugh Who? Villain Where? (Inherited): We all know Idia has two modes: nerdy and sofuckingarrogantheneedsacoldshower. You know exactly when he's feeling number two via his laugh. That over boisterous 'WHEE HEE HEE' which is way too high pitched to belong to a villain but perfect for when Idia's in the zone. It comes out when you're feeling especially ecstatic or embracing your inner gremlin. A bit more subdued than his, but you've seen him do it so many times that the adaptation is subconscious.

"Ah -?! What w-was?....No! NO I DIDNT SAY ANYTHING! Just hurry up before we gotta interact with more NPCS! Awahhh my blood pressure's already spiking back up..." <- He first caught it when you insisted on playing one of those cheap festival-games outside the main market in Fleur City. All he wanted was to grab a grape juice and get back to his group before they noticed he ditched, but you saw some handstitched plushies and just like in some mainstream otome, he just had to get it for you. It was easier than sitting there watching you get cheated by a sleaze. He was amidst convincing himself that he robbed you of the fun, handing the doll over while sucking down his second grape juice when he heard it - on one hand, is this what he sounds like to other people? Scratch that. No way he's this cute - wait. No. He didn't just think that -

Gatcha (Inherited): One of Idia's go-to hangouts is playing an MMO. The dude already gave you a console as a gift for what happened at S.T.Y.X. One inkling of interest towards one of his main games and he won't hesitate to build you a PC. He'll take care of the maintenance and even send over some matching accessories. Ortho will be the one to drop it off of course, but it'll already be set up with whatever games he thinks you'll want to tag-team in and some extra money to explore on your own....and thus, the addiction begins.

"Hey, press this button for me real quick. I need to test something. N-no! I'm not setting you up, uggh just do it would you?" <- Your pulls are better than his and Idia can't decide if lady luck is smiting or blessing him. On one hand? Ultra rare pulls are going to a beginner account. Yet you're more likely to keep playing this way....fate truly tests the Shroud name every day.

Night Owl (Inherited and Developed): Freedom...is powerful. As the Shrouds are responsible for Blot Control, you're left with little to do at S.T.Y.X. You can work anywhere in the facility. As a lab assistant, tech maintenance, heck even the kitchens if you want - but Idia's on that night-life and likes to work when most are asleep. So you match it. Maybe not to a T - going to bed at 6:00am and waking at 4:00pm like him - but time does get a bit disoriented in a place where the sky is simulated.

"Why're you still up? This isn't a 24hr stream, y'know. Even I'm not crazy enough to do multiple all-nighters in a row...well, I'm off for now. Wanna watch the PREMO concert from last week with me?"

Vitamins (Developed): You take them. Idia is taking them. No matter what bro says - he cannot live off the Ignihyde snack machine. Get him the kiddy gummies if you have to. You started taking vitamin D in preparation for moving to S.T.Y.X in the future. Surely they've got something better than the options at Sam's, but you won't be developing Seasonal Affective Disorder anytime soon.

Snacks (Developed): A very simple kindness. Idia uses deliveries as an excuse to get you to visit Ignihyde, and in the future that doesn't change. Expect calls to do deliveries around S.T.Y.X and run 'confidential' reports whenever he's antsy for a visit. We all know he won't explicitly ask...ah, it's reminiscent of all the bogus orders he'd put in at Sams so you'd stop by.

Habits he steals:

Financial 'Responsibility' (Inherited): You both are very bad with money - and by bad? I mean that Idia is a jerk who thinks he can solve everything with money. Minor red flag - something to address. Definitely the type to apologize by sending an unnecessarily gigantic stuffed bear or something akin since he's afraid of saying something that will make it worse. Then pray you don't say anything as he stews over a fight like 12hr simmering sauce.

"Please spare me your double-standards the next time you're shoving vitamin water in my snack stash. SRSLY, Headmaster's a worse deadbeat than I thought if you're living like this....uh, don't tell him I said that" <- On the flip side, he's also flippant with that Shroud inheritance and will buy stuff on your behalf all the time. He's the type to go 'Oh, I thought it was going to be more. You live like this?' when wiring you money for groceries (because Grim ate your allowance in tuna smh). As for how you're bad? You're just flat broke man, so he's responsibly irresponsible as a result.

Vitamins Again (Inherited): Bro. Bro, genetics are making you pale but that diet is what is making those eyebags so prominent despite having a decent skincare routine. You need Vitamin D but he needs the whole spectrum. His potassium is so low, that you'll be staring him down with a plate of cooked salmon in one hand and a bottle of vitamins in the other. Is it pushy? Sure, but you don't want him keeling over within the next decade. Eat the vitamins or it's time to raid his search history. Ortho, get them medical reports out stat.

RPG (Developed): Every chance he gets, Idia will model his MC after you in an RPG. A character customization screen HATES to see this man coming, because he will sit there for hours until it is as close to your image as the system allows. You won't even know since he plays these games solo and has photographic memory to recreate you without a reference. If caught, will deny it despite the evidence being right there. Flat out takes this to the grave.

Sour Candy (Inherited): Fun fact? Citric acid is the perfect stimulant to shock someone out of a panic attack. You find the sourest candy he can tolerate, and it does it's job. If anything it creates a placebo effect, where when Idia tastes it he'll make an association with being anything but anxious. One time he ran out while stuck in a work meeting, and Ortho had to swipe a lemon from the cafeteria.

"Eugh! Sour! Sour! My tongue's gonna shrivel up like a prune! I should have knew this was a prank -" <- Proceeds to forget why he was anxious. Stops himself mid-rant, face sours realizing that you were right, apologizes under his breath and doesn't question you again.

Protective (Developed): Idia teeters the yandere line, to be fair. He's highly protective of the things he considers worth caring about - scratch that, the things he allows himself to care about - which are few. Very, very few. His self-doubt both keep this protectiveness in line while also fueling it. He is quick to convince himself that he has little right over your person, and that it's only a matter of time before his role gets snubbed or written out. Yet the moment his position becomes threatened by something he considers inferior? He hates the thought of some noface coming along and making a muck of your life. It's not his fault if you don't realize Idia's doing just that - but he'll be damned if someone else puts their two cents in, pushing him towards a bad ending.

"Hey - so uh, totally unprompted question that you can just ignore in all honesty - but what's it like living with so many ghosts? They don't give you any trouble or anything - 'cause if they do we've got a few empty rooms over in Ignihyde....only if you wanna! I mean - we're a buncha shut ins but it's pretty quiet and stuff. Okay, fading into the background now." <- Do you remember the Ghostbride? Idia does. Vividly. He also remembers you were the only person aside from Ortho who actually wanted to help him and didn't need cohersion. Stupid move on your part but he's hyper aware of the paranormal now regardless.

Sharing a bed (Developed): Unheard of. Especially since he's stated how miserable he was sharing a dorm - Idia surprises himself with this one. Not a single person would believe just how clingy bro is - but he's only clingy because 'you're' clingy - or so Idia loves to say if anyone teases him for going back on his whole 'solo for life' rants. He goes from the whole 'eww normie love bleh bleh' to 'oh you normies just don't get it because you don't have it hwee hwee'. Look. You're the one matching his sleep schedule, making him used to sharing a bed and having something other than a pillow to curl around - he didn't want to get used to it, he was adamant that this lifestyle was an absolute no-no, but now he's ten years too deep and he's screwed.

"Snkk - funny joke, Ortho. Almost got me there with that one. Inheriting any of my skills is like welcoming a one-track path straight to doomsville. You and I both know it." == Ever observant Ortho is very eager to share all the little changes he's seen in both yourself and Idia. Especially when the latter enters self-deprecation mode and is insistent that your relationship is nearing a band ending. In truth? Idia notices. He doesn't feel entirely himself anymore, and it terrifies him. Not everyone's meant for companionship, and for a long time Idia thought he was one of them. Someone perfectly content on their own with absolutely zero need for other people. Especially those hot-shot nosy hero types that would try to fix him without asking if he wanted to be 'fixed'. Thing is? You haven't pushed him to change at all - and he's freaking out because he's not supposed to want this. You're not supposed to want him.

[michanvalentine]

Of course, Astarion wants to ascend. He wants it so much, it’s as clear as day. He has never hidden how much he ideally likes the idea of power—to elevate himself from his current position, to ensure his safety, to bend others to his will (instead of being the one who is bent). And if he can also walk in the sun and never feel the hunger pangs again, even better!

But let’s not forget that Astarion has a limited worldview. Cazador himself says it in one of his confrontations with Tav/Durge: "He is afraid. He is afraid because all he has ever known is you and me, and without us, he is nothing."

Astarion does not have a well-developed sense of self, and by default, he also lacks many of the skills that a well-adjusted adult should possess. So, to navigate life, he can either rely on the worldview presented by Cazador (power, power, power, and more power—to place himself above others) or the one offered by Tav/Durge, assuming they are a heroic figure. Otherwise, the only perspective left is that of power, and Ascending becomes almost natural in an evil playthrough (which I myself did in my villain run). Ascending Astarion in a good playthrough, however, seems completely contradictory to me, but whatever…

Let’s not forget that power is not Astarion’s driving force—power is only a means to an end. His real driving force is fear, as both Cazador and Scleritas emphasize. He would do anything to feel safe (like becoming a half-Illithid if scared enough by Tav/Durge—even though he rejects that idea with every fiber of his being, and yet…). The scene with the dryad, Naoise Nallinto, in Astarion’s origin run makes it crystal clear: when she uses her power on him, among all the possible choices (wealth, respect, power, etc.), Astarion’s personal wish is to feel safe, not power—even though power is explicitly one of the options. But it’s not his!

Oh, and Astarion himself spells it out, right before the final decision between Ascending or not. His exact words: "One final thrust, and I'll be free of you. I will never have to fear you again. And if I complete the ritual you started, I'll never have to fear anyone. Ever."

Everything revolves around fear, which is once again emphasized in the insight check—where it becomes obvious what is driving him and what is simultaneously holding him back from making a rational decision. Because while it’s true that he wants to ascend, he also wants to redeem himself. Well yes, it's shocking, folks, but two completely opposite desires can exist within the same person. They're called internal contradictions, and we all experience them every day or almost ("Oh, damn, I want to go out with my friends tonight, but I also want to just lie on the couch and watch TV").

Let’s not pretend this character is one-dimensional and that all these dialogue lines don’t exist when discussing Astarion. Of course he wants to ascend—he wants it so badly. The point is understanding why he wants it. And then questioning whether giving in to that fear is truly worth it, considering the consequences and what he would be giving up (because even Ascending comes with its own sacrifices, and I’m not even talking about his soul or the 7,000 people).

That’s why, if they choose to, Tav/Durge can intervene and make him reflect on the alternative (which, depending on how you play your Tav, could have been introduced to him from the very beginning of the adventure—it’s not something that just comes out of nowhere, unless you’re playing completely incoherently).

And it’s Astarion himself, in one of the most beautiful dialogues in the entire game, who explicitly states this lesson he has learned. When Durge is overcome with despair and fear—just like him—and tries to end the relationship, Astarion says: "This little adventure of ours has taught me that we can't let our lives be ruled by fear, or else we'll never truly live."

He has understood. He has grown. He has accepted that uncomfortable emotion and has decided not to be consumed by it—to choose for himself without letting fear dictate his actions. And I couldn’t be prouder of him.

One last thing, because I’ve seen it repeated a lot on social media: Ascending is not Astarion’s lifelong dream—it is Cazador’s dream. Astarion didn’t even know this kind of ritual existed until five minutes before it happened, so no, Tav/Durge is not cruelly ripping away his lifelong dream just for the sake of moral superiority. And above all, they are not forcing him to give it up—but I’ve already talked about this before, and I’m not going to repeat myself.

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

Moondir

→ warnings | +18, angst, slavery, smut, non-con/dub-con, coercion, revenge violence, blood, psychological trauma, emotional and physical abuse, forced pregnancy, supernatural themes, abuse of power, torture, humiliation, murder, discrimination, hatred, explicit language, obsession, OT7! - this is not for minors! → a/n | I recommend reading this story only to an adult audience familiar with this genre! This story is about how violence begets more violence and how twisted love can take hold of the most unthinkable person. Remember that Moondir is just a story and not a representation of my real values and thoughts, if you do not like the genre or even one of the warnings makes you uncomfortable, DO NOT READ.

→ pairing | moondir!OT7 x human!Reader

⤷ Introduction:

The Moondir, born of the Moon Goddess' love for a wolf, were persecuted and enslaved by humans for merely existing. Moondirian women have been captured and killed in the most heinous ways, men have instead been forced to do dangerous work in place of the humans themselves, and after more than a century, this has virtually brought their race to the brink of extinction. A group of Moondirian rebels have succeeded in their quest to regain their freedom, and not without the use of the crudest violence. Their females are now gone, and it will be human women who will help them repopulate the world.

Taglist is open: @katherine-kookie - @btsuga-d - @pantara - @angelicsmilesworld - @lennieharper - @takemeaway5402 - @jiminismine4ever - @m00njinnie - @ke1k029 - @velvet-stardust2002 - @darkuni63 - @douknowbts - @aiiselle90210 - @fewercascade - @mageprincess7 - @get-that-brain-working - @whipwhoops - @dragons-flare - @seokjins-luigi - @pjmsneverland - @jimincrystal - @ajkwww - @ungodlyjoon - @hecateslittlewitchling - @namjoonsbuspass - @xicanacorpse - @btssimplove - @antisocial-mochi267 - @reallygenerouskoala - @dabishou - @themwordsblog - @deluluisme - @justanarchiveforfics - @blackberrywonie - @the-holy-hobi - @justlikecrazy - @herareila - @furioustrashlover - @mar-lo-pap - @dachshunddame - @pantaral81 - @withmuchluv-tannie - @calmyourtitts7 - @plushjeno - @rafesbunniebby - @rms-expensive-girl - @polnaraffsrack - @rg2108 - @paramedicnerd004 - @jungshaking - @ane102 - @moonstarw ➤ Story | 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 - 06 - 07 - 08 - 09 - 10 ➤ Moondir Playlist |

Salvatore - Lana Del Rey Animals - Maroon 5 House of Cards - BTS Dark Paradise - Lana Del Rey Can't Help Falling in Love - version by Tommee Profitt feat. brooke Love in the Dark - Adele

→ characters profile |

Full name: Min Yoongi Species: Moondir Apparent Age: 32 Actual Age: 136 Eye Color: Black Hair Color: Black Height: 6'1" Position/ Rank: Captain - Alpha Element: Fire Mating Status: Unmated

previous psychiatrist's notes | The subject is extremely dangerous and combative; he killed his roommate after only one night spent at the center and was consequently placed in solitary confinement. I recommend his immediate culling.

Full name: Park Jimin Species: Moondir Apparent Age: 29 Actual Age: 130 Eye Color: Amber Hair Color: Brown Height: 6'1" Position/ Rank: Lieutenant - Beta Element: Air Mating Status: Mated

previous psychiatrist's notes | The subject refuses food and shows no intention of speaking; however, he occasionally appears to be conversing with himself. At present, I am unable to make an accurate diagnosis; I will continue to keep him under observation.

Full name: Kim Seokjin Species: Moondir Apparent Age: 32 Actual Age: 137 Eye Color: Blue Hair Color: Black Height: 6'2" Position/ Rank: Healer - Beta Element: Water Mating Status: Unmated

previous psychiatrist's notes | The subject presents a strong physical and mental structure, but a temperament inclined toward kindness despite the torture he has endured; we are dealing with an excellent exemplar. The subject is irretrievable; he suddenly went mad when he was let loose in the camp and killed a guard in an attempt to escape. Culling.

Full name: Jung Hoseok Species: Moondir Apparent Age: 31 Actual Age: 134 Eye Color: Green Hair Color: Brown Height: 6'2" Position/ Rank: Sergeant - Beta Element: Water Mating Status: Unmated

previous psychiatrist's notes | The subject presents a curious case of dual personality, on the one hand we have a Moondir man, on the other hand someone who believes himself to be a human being. I want to isolate the first personality so that we have an absolutely cooperative Moondirian.

Full name: Kim Taehyung Species: Moondir Apparent Age: 29 Actual Age: 130 Eye Color: Amber Hair Color: Black Height: 6'2" Position/ Rank: Hunter - Delta Element: Earth Mating Status: Unmated

previous psychiatrist's notes | The subject is a sadist. He bit off a guard's ear and chewed it off laughing, before slitting the guard's throat with a claw and thus ending his gruesome work, I don't know how useful such a guy can be.

Full name: Jeon Jungkook Species: Moondir - Half-blood Apparent Age: 27 Actual Age: 129 Eye Color: Lilac Hair Color: Brown Height: 6'3" Position/ Rank: Hunter - Alpha Element: Fire Mating Status: Unmated

previous psychiatrist's notes | The subject is still a cub, shows immature character traits typical of a Moondirian who is not yet an adult and does not listen at all to what I or the guards ask him to do, preferring rather to scratch the surface of the walls and growl at us. To be kept under observation.

Full name: Kim Namjoon Species: Moondir Apparent Age: 30 Actual Age: 134 Eye Color: Dark Blue Hair Color: Black Height: 6'3" Position/ Rank: Hunter - Delta Element: Earth Mating Status: Mated

previous psychiatrist's notes | The subject asks a lot of questions, seems genuinely intrigued by the human race, and shows an unusual calmness - perhaps we are looking at a exemplar perfectly capable of communicating with us and obeying us without much fuss. second note | The subject asked me what we humans taste like. Extreme caution advised.

© | I do not allow the republication or editing of these stories by third parties; all rights belong to me. Anyone guilty of the crime of plagiarism will be reported and blocked. The same goes for those who take parts of my stories without my explicit consent.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

butterflygirl738 (4)

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, sickness, medical bills, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You love butterflies and your mother, but life isn’t that simple. As life gets complicated, and expensive, you find yourself in need and an unexpected miracle presents itself.

Characters: Steve Rogers (CEO/Sugar Daddy)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You give the stranger your name but he just tells you to call him S. He seems a lot more important than you, so that makes sense. He must be if he's throwing around money so easily. A lot of money.

That seems to be on his mind too.

"Did you get the transfer?" He asks as he takes off his sunglasses.

You rub between your thumb and index nervously. You can't stop fidgeting. You glance around for what must be the dozenth time. You feel like everyone is watching you, that they all know you're doing something so stupid. Yet, nobody is looking at you.

"I... didn't check," you murmur. "I've just been waiting."

"Sorry again for making you wait," he puts his large hands on the table, framing the tall mug with his fingers. "You know what they say about meeting people online."

You snort, "ha, yeah."

You look out the window and exhale. That only stirs your nerves. You face him and sit back in the chair, folding your hands in your lap.

"I'm sorry. I think this was a bad idea." You say.

"Is it? We haven't even talked."

"Yeah, but... I should be looking for a job or... my mom. She's all alone..." you wring your hands.

"I want to help with that," he turns his hands and taps his fingers on the table. He sniffs. "I'm trying to figure out how to say what I want to say. And that's what it is. I want to help."

"But why? I don't know you. You don't me." Your teeth want to chatter, you're so nervous.

His chests rises and falls. His throat bobs. He resets his posture.

"That would be part of it." His blue eyes bore into yours. They're so bright and bold. "Getting to know each other."

You shake your head, confused.

"I could help with the medical bills and groceries. Whatever you need. It would just be..." he extends his fingers as he gestures with his hands. "An exchange. An arrangement. All you have to do is spend time with me."

You stare at him. Your eyes search his face. Your mouth slants. You want to laugh. It sounds absurd. Yet, he looks serious. You straighten your lips.

"By spend time you mean..." you shiver and mash your hands together in your lap. "They don't have people you can pay in New York."

He sighs. "It's not just... if physical things happen..." he pauses and his cheek twitches. "I'd prefer we just feel it out and see where it goes."

You look down. He can dress it up and say it as carefully as he likes. You've heard about these things. There's women on TikTok who post videos about new handbags or designer shoes and their 'daddies'. But they are so beautiful. They are interesting. You're just... afraid.

He coughs and shifts his chair closer. "I know it's not easy to be in your position. Sick parents are difficult. My mom... when I was about your age, she was really sick too. Still is but we manage."

You peek up at him. You don't know what to say. There's that voice in your head telling you that the answer is clear as day; no. You're not a prostitute. No, you have dignity. Then there's the other one, the louder one. You have nothing and you're about to lose even that.

"How about this? Before you make up your mind, let me take you around town. We'll just get to know each other. Baseline." He suggests. "We'll have our coffee, order some lunch, and you can show me around."

You bite your cheek. That's not too bad. He's not pushing you. If anything, he seems just as unsure. That makes you feel a bit better.

But can you really do this? Can you sell yourself like that? He's still just a stranger. Still just S.

Your head is reeling. What would your mom think? Well, you couldn't tell her, just like you never told her what you're really doing right then.

You bring your hand up to rub your shoulder. You hook your fingers around, shielding yourself, and nod.

"Alright, I'll try." You agree, keeping the rest of the sentence inside; I don't have any other options.

His cheeks dimple. The lines on his face only add to his good looks. He really isn't that bad. A bit older. Maybe a lot older.

"So, you hungry? What do you want?" He looks over at the chalkboard menu.

You follow his gaze. You focus on the menu. It's a bit easier to do that.

"My treat," he assures.

"Um, thanks," you scratch your neck nervously. If it were up to you, you wouldn't waste the money. "The veggie croissant sounds okay."

"Sure, anything else," he stands.

You push your shoulders back and and shake your head. "Thank you. That's more than enough."

"No problem," he turns and struts up to join the line.

You watch him. His shirt is taut across his shoulder blades and around his biceps. He's built better than any man you've seen before. Confident. He's cool as he waits patiently and steps up calmly to order. He slides out his wallet and swipes his card. Not a second thought. No tallying up rent or bills or even just the cost of a bag of rice.

He folds up his wallet and spins. You avert your attention to the table. He approaches and sits again.

"They'll bring it to us," he says.

"Okay," you accept. You can't look at him.

He shifts. "Look, I don't see you as just... I see you as a person. I hope you realise that. I really do want to help you."

"Yeah, I know." You swallow. "I'm sorry. I'm just... thinking."

"That's okay," he assures. "Not rushing you. So uh... I'll tell you about me a bit. If you want?"

You nod and make yourself look. His eyes are almost sparkling as they stick to you. You're a stranger to him too. How can he be so interested? Just you and your butterflies.

"I have a business. I have been running it for the last fifteen years. Before that, I did some corporate work but I really didn't like the politics, so started my own thing," he explains. "I live in New York, I watch baseball, I like to draw. Or liked to. I don't have a lot of time for that anymore." He pauses and holds up his finger. "One sec."

He reaches to his chest pocket and flips up the flap. He slides out a napkin. He unfolds it on the table.

"Got bored on the plane," he slides it over to you. It's a sketch of a butterfly. It's really good too.

"Wow, you did that?" You ask.

"Mm hm," he hums. "I'm a bit rusty."

"No, it's really good," you lean in to admire it. "Wow."

He's quiet. You put your fingers on the edge of the napkin as you look it over.

"My mom used to draw. Paint, too. She's really good. Like you."

You peek up at him. There's a subtle curve in his lips.

"It's... nothing but you can keep it if you want."

"I think it's more than nothing," you pick it up. "That's so cool."

"Ha, thanks. Think the real thing is cooler."

He sits back and looks over as one of the cafe employees approaches. She puts down your plates and tells you to enjoy. You tuck away the napkin.

"Looks delicious," S says.

It does and it smells even better. You hesitate as he picks up half his sandwich. You stare at yours.

"Everything okay?" He asks.

You think about your mom. She doesn't eat much these days but you wish you could bring her good food like this. You resist a frown.

"It's all good," you assure. "Thanks so much. It looks great."

You pick up half the croissant, careful not to let the contents spill out.

"So, where do you work?" He asks.

You nibble and swallow tightly. "Oh, just... customer service at a few stores. Nothing special."

"Hm, that must be stressful."

"It can be," you shrug. "Not the most stress I have right now... but er, whatever."

"Not whatever but I can understand not wanting to talk about it." He says. "Any other hobbies? Besides the butterflies?"

"No..." you drone. "Just watch some TV here and there. Go for walks when I can. There isn't too much going on around here." Not much you can afford.

"Any recommendations? I don't watch much but I'm always open to binge," he says.

"Not unless you're a fan of 90s sitcoms," you shake your head.

"Don't mind them," he says.

He leans forward to take a bite. You focus on your own sandwich. Your stomach is mulching painfully with each morsel. You only realise then how hungry you are.

🦋

S is even bigger walking next to him. You take him down the block to the park. You don't often come to this part of town but it's nicer than your neighbourhood. There's a fountain there.

You collide with S as he tries to follow the path but you find yourself distracted by the birds bathing in the water. You apologise and back up. He chuckles and turns to look at the fountain.

"Pretty. Peaceful," he says as he stops to watch them. "Different. New York is just... everything."

"Oh, it must be super busy there."

"Yeah, very," he agrees. "This is nice though."

"Probably boring to someone like you."

"Boring is nice. Boring is... easier," he says.

He starts toward the fountain and you follow. He stops at the edge and turns to sit. You do the same. The water trickles, the scent of it stirring the air.

You peer around. Another mother with her stroller, a couple and their dog, a brood of kids and their parents. It's all so nice and perfect and sweet. All these people are so happy. They don't have to worry about a thing.

You can barely remember the days when you weren't bound in anxiety. When you were the little girl skipping down the pathway. It feels like it's always been this.

You turn away to hide the gleam in your eyes. You don't know why you're thinking about that right now. You dab your eyes with your knuckle and sigh. You make yourself sit up.

"It's pretty here," you say.

He's watching you. You can feel it. Did he notice?

"It's gorgeous," he agrees but he isn't looking at the trees or the flowers.

You sniff and turn to watch the birds again. You make yourself smile. He shifts to see them too.

"Is your mom waiting for you?" He asks.

"She'll wonder where I am. She always does," you cross one arm across your middle. "I told her I was going to the bank to pay bills and do some running around."

He looks at you and nods.

"I didn't mention you. She doesn't know at all." You say. "It's just... I wasn't sure..."

"You weren't?" He wonders. "What about now?"

You clamp your lips and tilt your head. You open your mouth but can't find the words. You drop your shoulders.

"I don't know. I... I'm very lost right now." You look away.

He exhales. "I know it might not be very obvious, but I am too. I came all the way here and I was sure I was going to sit there alone all day. I kept checking your page thinking maybe you might delete and disappear with the money. Which is fine, that's fine. Your mom needs it but I just... the money is nothing to me." He sucks in air and laughs grimly. "New York is lonely. Being the boss, it's isolating. I didn't know what else to do and I... I just want something simple."

You listen, rolling around your thoughts on your tongue, poking your cheeks. You might be gullible but he sounds honest. Vulnerable even.

You hang your head and turn so that you're facing the open park path. You lean forward and wiggle your feet. "I just want my mom to be okay," you utter. "And if she isn't, then I don't want her to spend the time she has left like this."

He's quiet for a moment. You could wilt right then. All the stress crashes down on you and threatens to smother you.

"I can make sure that's not the case. I can help you keep her comfortable," he slides his hand across the stone and touches yours. "And you don't have to tell her about me."

"Yeah, she doesn't need to worry about me," you push yourself straight. You look him in the face. "I think we could try."