#by formal i mean i didn't use contractions

[therealkaidertrash21]

Ok, this is the essay I've been talking about, defending kaider. Keep in mind that I'm 15 and English is not my first language, so I might've said something wrong. Also, this is veeery formal because that's what I was taught to do.

Like in all fandoms and all canon and non-canon pairings, kaider sometimes receives comments regarding their dynamic saying that it is not a good ship, that it is not well written, or that they do not go well together. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, however, there are several good arguments against this position.

Firstly, the main aspect that is often criticized about kaider is how quickly the characters "fell in love" and it is often referred as "instalove" even though, if it is carefully analyzed, it becomes obvious that this is not true at all.

Kai, Cinder's love interest, develops a romantic interest in her since their first meeting, this is a fact. But it does not mean it was instalove. Because instalove is love at first sight, when a character thinks the other is their soulmate and wants to be with them forever after only taking a glance at them. However, this is not what happens with kaider. Kai is interested in Cinder and asks her out multiple times but he is not in love, it is very obvious he is just a teenager who has a crush on a girl. This is not rare in real life. This is not unrealistic at all.

In addition, it is impossible to say Cinder's feelings are anything similar to instalove. She doesn't instantly develop feelings for the prince. At the beginning of the story, she does think about him and is interested in him, but her feelings are not particularly strong or obvious yet (partly because she is repressing them).

Secondly, another aspect that is often used to say kaider is a bad pairing, from Cinder's side, is that she is a "not like other girls" character, when she technically is not. This is almost a separate subject, but in essence: Cinder does not say she is not like other girls as a way to put herself above them and denigrate them, she does this because she is insecure, as a way to place herself below them.

Finally, often people criticize this pairing because they think Cinder would be unhappy if she married Kai, because she never wanted to be queen. But the reasons why Cinder did not want to be royalty are not simple. There are many reasons: 1. Cinder does not want to fail her people, 2. she thinks she will not be accepted by the citizens, 3. She desires anonymity. None of these reasons are actually about ruling a country, and once she overcomes these things they would not affect her.

Some might also argue that since she was queen, and then abdicated, she doesn't want to rule. But the reason for her abdication is mostly about her political position. She believes a monarchy is bad for Luna, since monarchs can easily manipulate their citizens (which they have done before). That is the true reason for her abdication. And even after her abdication, she still dedicated her life to politics as an ambassador, which she was not obligated to do.

In conclusion, even though kaider might seem badly written sometimes, this is not true. It is deeper than what it seems. The characters are complex, the reasons why they act in certain ways are very complex as well, as they would be in a real world scenario. Everyone has the right to have their own opinion, but it is good to analyze deeper, rather than only retaining a first impression or a superficial analysis.

also, credits to @impossiblesuitcase because I based most of the sixth paragraph on their post about a similar topic.

[deadinthefanfics]

Housewardens x a reader who has selective mutism (platonic)

A/n: Hello this is my first time doing this I will try my best the reader is gender neutral in these headcanons ^_^

Riddle Rosehearts

☆) Riddle was honestly surprised on first meeting you. He was expecting to get someone on the immature side or likely the calm yet still manages to get themselves into chaos no matter what.

☆) When he tries to have an interaction with you seeing that you either whisper or mutter and he asks you to speak up you feel like shrinking away into a black hole. He never understood why it was so hard for you to not talk. Yeah speaking is such a simple action but he didn't know the reasoning behind you.

☆) After the overblot and realizing that it's really hard for you to talk no matter how much you try it's hard for you to do. He became more empathetic for you. But since you were out of trouble he liked you.

☆) He would likely help you when you are called on he would say the answer for you so you wouldn't have to say it.

☆) He also likes to walk and talk with you during passing periods and you get to listen along to him, even if you didn't say it in your words he could tell you didn't mind him by your facial expressions and your hand gestures. ☆) He also probably sets up your own formal language when it comes to unbirthday parties as such tapping your cup for more tea or tapping a certain part of your plate saying that you want more of a sweet.

Leona Kingscholar

☆) He honest didn't mind when you didn't speak that much. But if you are in any situation where you need help, he's here for you when you absolutely need it.

☆) He will maybe also lay on you or let you sit next to him since you are quiet and not bothering him when he sleeps.

☆) He will tease you when you are comfortable with him jabbing snarky jokes at you most common one he will use on you was "cat's got your tongue?"

☆) He will feel accomplished when you make a slight giggle or chuckle at his jokes when he makes them

☆) Will make anyone shut up if they try to bother you to speak or force you out of your comfort zone.

Azul Ashengrotto

☆) When he first met you he thought you were a spy since you stood awkwardly and it stood out from everyone else speaking so loudly. Or plotting against his schemes of forming contracts.

☆) When he found out you were nonverbal he formed more ideas for the monstro lounge since if they catered to regular people why not the quiet people? Or the introverts?

☆) Gives you a special pass so you can go into the quieter places when you needed to. While also gets advice from you on how to cater to the quieter people in which now they have to pay for the pass.

☆) Business is getting bigger since now they accommodate to the quiet side of NRC.

☆) When you do actually speak to him he feels a sense of pride that he build up a good relationship to speak.

Kalim Al-Asim

☆) When he first met you he was a bit surprised when you literally almost ran away when he spotted you. But you didn't and tried to be brave and you stayed and let him talk to you.

☆) When he found out you had trouble speaking he asks Jamil for help on how to talk to people like you.. In which now he knows how to talk to the shy people without scaring them away!

☆) Will buy your favorite things use that to your advantage since he is very nice.../j

☆) Passes you notes when he is bored and wants to have a conversation with you.

☆) He would be excited when you finally talk to him like as if a kid got the gift they wanted on their birthday and makes it KNOWN he is proud of you for finally talking.

Vil Schoenheit

☆) When at first Vil met you by just you accidentally bumping into each other and he apologizes in a bit of a mean way for bumping into you. But when he noticed that you were trying to form an apology he saw you now as "Idia Shroud 2.0"

☆) Does the same thing as Riddle asking you to speak up but to be more confident in yourself. But also does kind of understand why you were to be quiet but he doesn't really force you to do anything much.

☆) Vil will definitely provide you communication cards he custom designed at hand for you to communicate with the others.

☆) He would also likely make you his mannequin make you try on clothes for him. Since you are as silent as one so you would at least make a good acquaintance for him. ☆) When you finally talk to him he gets very proud like a father when you speak for the first time to him. Even if it were a little it still meant a lot to him.

Idia Shroud

☆) Idia would honestly not care that much he is just glad you are nice to him and you manage to surprisingly get him to open up about his interests and everything.

☆) I feel like whenever you actually talk even if its like muttering or the smallest whisper when he is like paying attention to a game he would get jumpy thinking it is someone else is in the room when its just you.

☆) Idia would allow you to borrow his tablet on rare ocassions when you do need to give out presentations or public speaking so you wouldn't feel the anxiety so much when speaking.

☆) Idia would allow you to be in his room as well and just let you watch him game and probably allow you to mess around with a few of his stuff.

☆) Idia would just allow you in his close circle in general as close as Ortho because of how awkward you are around people and seeing he is the same level as you he would be more delight talking to you.

Malleus Draconia

☆) He finds you very interesting. A child of man that has anxiety of speaking? He never seen one before let alone in person.

☆) He does like to be around you and try to ask you questions by giving you something to write on so that you can answer his questions.

☆) Would probably pat your head or rub your back when you feel anxious, or even more so hug you and would maybe never let go.

☆) Will smite down anyone who bothers you or makes you anxious. ☆) He will find it comforting since he also doesn't speak and someone of same nature could lead to good bonding.

Psst hey! My requests are open (^o^)

[mariclerc]

Student's secret | cl16

Summary: what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas... or in a pole dance club.

Warnings: mental health issues, toxic work environment, mentions of drugs and sex, uni student reader, denigrating comments, angst and a little fluff at the end.

Living or spending a few days in the city of sin is a dream come true for many people, it is the place where everything is possible, where anything can happen: Luxuries and eccentricities are the order of the day throughout the year and rules and formalities are something banal and outdated for many.

For you it is like being in a cage, many people are forced to lead a double life, one where during the day they do their routine things but at night they try to do something to survive... Just like your case... Being a uni student, it is a bit difficult to bear the expenses of tutors, food, clothes, rent and other things, especially being exposed to the city of luxuries at such a young age, most of the time you find it difficult to make ends meet, so you decided to look for a job during the holidays to, at least, have enough money to make it to the end of the year without any problems... But you didn't think that what started as a temporary job would become a permanent job.

That's why you find yourself touching up your makeup backstage at a pole dance club, this has been your night life for 4 months straight, today is different because you have to work an extra day due to a special show.

Lila, your boss, enters backstage, drawing everyone's attention. “Listen up ladies, tonight we will have a special show because the F1 action in Las Vegas starts on Wednesday, so we will only be open today - Tuesday night, and tomorrow.” she said with a cocky smile on her face. “Plus we have some special people in the audience tonight, so get your shit together or else... You'll be dealing with me.” she said.

Most of the time when there is a big event that paralyzes the city you work only 3 days and the other days you use to rest, but this is enough because you assume from what Lila says, that the drivers will be making an appearance at the club tonight. Plus your shift is only supposed to be Thursday through Sunday, not Tuesday.

You sighed. “I don't want to do this Lila...” you say softly.

She stops and turns her gaze to you. “What do you mean? You know you have a contract, right?” she spats.

“But this is not my shift and I feel too uncomfortable and exposed.” you say. “This was supposed to be a summer-only job, and...” you were going to continue but she interrupted you.

“But anyway, you signed the contract and besides, you need money for your stupid shit, right?” she said and you blinked multiple times. “So you're gonna put on a good show tonight or else I'll make you spend the night with one of the patrons, was it clear to you?”

The patrons are the ones who keep the club afloat, they invest a lot of money in you and in drinks, drugs and so on. In the few months you've been there you've witnessed some pretty... nasty stuff, drugged up coworkers forced to have sex with one of these guys so they can give them some extra money. Luckily for you, you haven't been forced to do anything similar, you just dance and do the occasional VIP service, extra tip and that's it, but seeing the consequences of not wanting to work today, you have to put up with it.

“Okay miss...” you murmured shyly.

Lila smiled. “Everyone, be ready for our customers tonight.” she said and continued walking, you sighed.

You take a deep breath, wiping away a tear that came out of your eyes, smudging lightly your mascara, before stepping into the spotlight. You and your other companions go out on stage, you notice how the patrons are sitting up front with their drinks and cigarettes, as usual, but you notice new faces; most of the drivers are sitting in the VIP booth, each one sitting alone or with his colleagues. The music starts, and you begin your routine, trying to mask your emotions with your performance. As you dance, you catch glimpses of a driver who's watching you intently, his expression shifting from amusement to concern.

After finishing your routine, you watch as your boss motions for you to go the VIP booth number 16, you walk over there, your heart pounding in your chest. The driver is smiling, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes.

He's smiles gently. “Hey there, that was an incredible performance up there.” he says softly.

“Thanks, I... I appreciate it.” you say while forcing a smile.

You notice the way he studies you, his gaze lingering on the redness in your eyes and the light smudge under it. He hesitates for a moment before speaking again... “Are you okay? You seem… a bit upset.” he asks you softly.

You sighed. “It’s just been a long night... Nothing to worry about.” you whispered as you lied.

He nodded. “I can imagine, this place looks so intense.”

You look around the club, feeling the weight of the atmosphere pressing down on you.

“It can be... Overwhelming at times.” you say quietly.

The music shifts to a slower tempo, creating a more intimate atmosphere around your conversation. You stand before Charles and you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. Charles watches you with a mix of excitement, care and curiosity, his coloured eyes sparkling under the dim lights.

He smiles gently. “So, what do you say, little star? Just a little private dance to lighten the mood?” he says softly while calling you by your stage name.

“I mean... If that's what you want...” you say a little hesitant.

He nods reassuringly. “Trust me, it’ll be fun... Just be yourself.”

You feel a rush of adrenaline at his words. You’ve performed many times before, you've even done private dances several times with not so nice customers, but this feels different—more personal and somewhat intimate. You nod slowly, trying to shake off your nerves.

“Okay... I'll do it.” you say softly.

Charles grins, and you can see the excitement in his eyes. You step back slightly to create some space, allowing yourself to get into the right headspace... The music shifts to a sultry tune, and you begin to move to the rhythm.

As you dance, you focus on Charles, letting the music guide your movements. You sway your hips and let your body flow with the beat, feeling the tension ease away with each step. Charles leans back against the plush booth, watching you intently.

“You're incredible...” he whispers.

His words send a thrill through you, and you find yourself getting lost in the moment... You let go of any lingering doubts and worries and you just embrace the performance. You glide closer to him, allowing your body to move in sync with his gaze.

You continue your dance, incorporating playful movements that make him laugh and smile. The connection between you feels electric, and you find yourself enjoying this more than you anticipated.

“How's this for a private dance?” you asked him playfully, using your confident facade.

He grins. “It's perfect... More than I expected...”

You lock eyes with him, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away. The laughter and chatter from other tables become a distant hum as you focus solely on him. As you move closer again, you notice how he leans forward, captivated by your performance. You playfully run your fingers along his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. You continue dancing, letting your body express what words cannot. You swirl around him, feeling free and alive as you lose yourself in the rhythm. The music pulses through your veins, and you can see the admiration in Charles' eyes as he watches you.

“You're amazing... This is better than I imagined.” he says with a low voice.

You smile at his compliment, feeling a rush of confidence surge through you, customers rarely compliment you or the girls. You step closer again, brushing against him as you dance, feeling the warmth radiating from his body.

As the last notes of the song fade away, you take a deep breath and step back, allowing yourself to bask in the moment.

He clapped softly to you. “That was incredible! You really know how to put on a show.”

You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. The energy between you is palpable as he leans forward slightly.

“I think that deserves a special tip...” he says while grinning. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crisp stack of bills, holding them up with a playful glint in his eye. “What do you think? Is this enough? Or do you need more than that?” he says softly.

Your heart races as he counts out a hefty amount of cash that was wrapped in a paper before handing it to you with an appreciative smile. You wouldn't believe it, it was a big tip.

“Wow! Are... Are you serious?” you said surprised. “I can't take it, I'm...” you were about to say but he gently stopped you.

He smiled. “Don't say that, you deserve it! You deserve every bit of it for that amazing performance.”

You take the money from him, feeling a mix of gratitude and disbelief. It’s more than you expected for just one dance. “Tha... Thank you so much! This really means a lot to me.” you say softly.

“You earned it. And I hope this helps with whatever you're working towards.” He said sweetly and that made you stop.

“How... How do you know that...” you said in a low voice.

He looked around the club and then looked at you before slowly approaching you.

“There's no need to say anything, little star... Your gaze, those lost little eyes told me everything I need to know.” he said softly in a whisper. “Sometimes a look is enough to know a little bit about a person.” he said softly and you were shocked, you never thought that an F1 driver would be so empathetic and deeper.

“Wow, that was... Yeah...” you murmured. “Thank you again...” you say and pause, you still don't know his name.

“Oh, I'm Charles Leclerc.” he said formally. “But just call me Charles.” he smiled.

“Y/n” You answered him by giving him your name. You were going to tell him something else, but the bell indicating that you and the girls had to go backstage ruined the moment.

He smiled. “Well, I think they need you in there.” he said softly. “I really enjoyed this evening, the dancing was spectacular.” he said and you blushed.

“Y/n! Get your fucking slutty ass here!” your boss yelled harshly and you shook your head.

“I have to go, but thanks again Charles.” you said softly.

“It was nothing. Take care y/n, I hope to see you soon.” he said softly and you walked backstage.

As you entered your small dressing room you looked at the amount of money Charles had given you and a tear ran down your cheeks. You had never received such good treatment from a customer, the warmth and security of his person contrasting with the coldness and toxicity of the place. You sighed and put the money in your briefcase, thankful that someone had noticed your tearful gaze despite not saying anything about the anxiety and fear that constantly fill your life.

***

The weeks following your encounter with Charles unfold in a blur of routine and reflection. You find yourself back in the familiar rhythm of your daily life, but the vibrant energy of that night lingers in your mind like a bittersweet memory. The club’s atmosphere has shifted, and the pressures of your job weigh heavily on you.

You're sitting on your bed, surrounded by textbooks and notes from your psychology classes. The sunlight filters through the window, but it feels dimmer than usual, you flip through your notes absentmindedly, thoughts drifting back to that night.

“It was just one night… why can’t I stop thinking about it?” you say to yourself, while flipping through your notebook.

You recall Charles’s laughter, the way he looked at you with genuine interest and care, and the way he made you feel seen. But as days turn into weeks, that memory becomes a painful reminder of what you’re missing in your life.

You shake your head, trying to focus on your studies. But the thoughts keep creeping back in—what if you had exchanged numbers? What if you opened up to him and told him what you were going through at that very moment it didn't matter if he was a complete stranger? The “what ifs” swirl around like a storm in your mind... You couldn't fall in love with a stranger, much less an F1 driver, you're not supposed to let anyone into your life.

A few nights later, you’re back at work, but the energy feels different. The once vibrant atmosphere has turned toxic—patrons are more aggressive, and the laughter that used to fill the air is replaced with tension and judgment.

You stand behind the bar, pouring drinks for a group of rowdy customers who seem to take pleasure in belittling the staff. You try to brush off their nasty comments, but each jab feels like a weight added to your already heavy heart.

One of the customers spoke. “Hey you, why don’t you dance for us? We paid good money for this place! You little bratty bitch.” he said in a slurring way.

You force a smile, but inside, you feel a surge of anxiety, you want to disappear. The memory of Charles’s encouragement clashes with the reality of your current situation. You glance around, noticing how other staff members are also feeling the pressure from the patrons, they're demanding lately.

“May... Maybe later! Right now, let me get you another round of drinks.” you say while you attempt to light the mood.

As you turn away, you catch a glimpse of a co-worker, Sarah, who looks equally drained. She gives you a sympathetic nod, and you can tell she’s feeling the strain too. It is causing a lot of damage to all the girls, especially mentally, you have already seen several of them taking drugs in the bathrooms and backstage.

Sarah approaches you. “It’s getting worse here girl… I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” she says quietly while taking a cigarette out of her pocket.

You sigh, knowing exactly what she means. The club that once felt like an escape is now suffocating. Every night drags on, filled with rude customers and an overwhelming sense of dread. Your mental health begins to deteriorate as the pressure mounts.

Days turn into weeks, and you find yourself dealing with the weight of your job and studies because it feels unbearable. You spend more nights lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling as thoughts spiral out of control. Obviously, in the midst of all the chaos, you became a bit of a F1 fan, especially keeping an eye on the green-eyed boy who had been so nice to you that night at the club, somehow, even though he was a complete stranger to you at the time, you felt so happy to see him shine in what he likes — something you wish would happen to you too.

One particularly rough night at work, a big fight breaks out between two patrons. The chaos erupts around you as glasses shatter and voices rise in anger, you feel frozen in place, overwhelmed by your anxiety and nerves.

Weeks pass, and the club continues to drain you. But you find solace in small moments—watching sunsets, reading books—but they’re fleeting against the backdrop of your reality. Your mental health spirals further as feelings of isolation creep in.

Tears well up in your eyes as frustration boils over. You wipe them away angrily, feeling trapped between the joy of the memory shared that night with Charles and the pain of your current life. And it shouldn't be affecting you so much, he was just a costumer...

***

The atmosphere is electric as the club transforms for the Christmas season, twinkling lights adorn the bar, and festive decorations create a warm ambiance amidst the usual chaos. You stand in the backstage, heart racing, preparing for one last performance before your well deserved break from the club and your classes. The familiar sounds of laughter and chatter filter through the curtains, but today, they feel different.

You are in the backstage, pacing nervously as you go over your routine in your mind. The stage is set, and the crowd buzzes with excitement. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

You take a deep breath. “Just one last performance… You can do this.” you say in a whisper to you.

As the music starts and the spotlight shines on you, you step onto the stage. The audience erupts in applause, but your eyes scan the crowd anxiously. You catch glimpses of familiar faces—some co-workers, and regular patrons, nothing new—but then your heart skips a beat. There he is—Charles, standing near the front, his smile bright against the dim lighting.

Your breath hitches in your throat as a flood of emotions washes over you. Memories of that night come rushing back—the laughter, the slight connection, the promise of something more. But doubt creeps in, and you feel a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach...

“Why is he here? Is this just a fleeting visit? Or is it for something else?” you think, you can't help but wonder that.

You force yourself to focus on the performance, pouring your heart into every movement. As you dance, you try to ignore the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind... But each time you glance at Charles, you feel an overwhelming mix of hope and fear.

The performance reaches its climax, and the crowd cheers enthusiastically. You finish with a flourish, feeling a rush of adrenaline as you take your final bow. The applause reverberates in your ears, but your gaze remains fixed on Charles.

As you step offstage, adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you navigate through the backstage area toward the bar. You can feel Charles’s presence behind you, and a mix of excitement and dread builds within you.

“Whoa! That was incredible! I’ve missed seeing you perform, little star.” he says as he approaches you with a smile on his face.

His voice sends a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you’re speechless. You take a moment to absorb his presence—his familiar warmth, his genuine admiration.

“Tha... Thanks... It's been a while since I felt that good on stage.” you say shyly.

You glance around nervously as other staff members and Sarah pass by, some offering nods of recognition to Charles. You can’t help but feel exposed under their scrutiny.

“Do you want to talk somewhere quieter?” he says softly while noticing your discomfort.

You hesitate for a bit. “Yeah... I guess that would be nice.”

You lead him to a small break room at the back of the club—a space filled with mismatched furniture and remnants of holiday treats. The atmosphere feels intimate compared to the bustling club outside.

Once inside, the door closes behind you, muffling the noise from the main area. You lean against the counter, arms crossed defensively as you try to gauge his intentions.

“So, ehm... What brings you back to Vegas? I thought you were busy with racing and all that stuff...” you asked him cautiously.

“Yeah, well, I was busy... but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I wanted to see how you’re doing—like, really doing.” he sighed and smiled at you.

His sincerity strikes a chord within you, but doubt still lingers. You remember how hard it is to open up before and how vulnerable it made you feel.

“Well... Things have been tough lately… work has been overwhelming...” you say while biting your lip.

Suddenly everything you have experienced in the last few months comes to your head, the humiliation, the mockery, the objectification, anxiety, the sacrifices you make to make ends meet and have enough money for everything you need and, without expecting it, your eyes fill with tears. A part of you longs for validation and support, but another part fears being let down again.

“Oh, don't cry little star, it's okay...” he says while he holds you in his arms and caresses your hair. “It's so okay, let it out.”

You sniffled. “It’s just that… I don’t know if I can trust anyone right now... Everything feels so chaotic; my life feels so chaotic and messier.”

Charles looks down at you, his expression earnest and understanding. “I get that... Trust takes time, but I’m here for you if you want to talk about it, I want to help.” he wipes a tear form your cheek.

You feel a flicker of hope ignite within you at his words. The vulnerability in his voice reminds you of that connection you shared—the one that felt so real yet so distant now.

“It’s hard for me to open up…” you say in a whisper.

“You don’t have to share everything all at once with me. Just know that I’m here to listen whenever you're ready, okay?” he says softly.

His patience reassures you, but fear still grips your heart. You remember how easily things can change—how quickly trust can be broken.

“I’ve been feeling lost… like I’m stuck in this cycle that I can’t escape.” you say while looking down.

He nodded. “And it’s so okay to feel that way, we all go through rough patches. What matters is that we can still find a way out... together.” he smiles at you.

You meet his gaze again, searching for sincerity in his eyes. There’s no judgment there—only care, understanding and compassion... Something you've been needing to find for a long time and now a stranger is giving it to you.

***

As the days rolled on, the festive spirit of Las Vegas enveloped you both. The city transformed into a dazzling wonderland, with sparkling lights adorning every corner and the joyous sounds of holiday celebrations filling the air. You and Charles made the most of your time together, exploring the vibrant culture and indulging in the culinary delights that the city had to offer.

On Christmas Eve, you found yourselves in a cozy café nestled within one of the extravagant hotels. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of baked goods, creating an inviting atmosphere. You sat across from each other, warm mugs cradled in your hands, and the soft glow of fairy lights twinkling around you.

As you sipped your drink, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort in his presence... Charles had a way of making everything feel lighter, as if the burdens you carried were shared between you. But there was still a part of you that hesitated to delve deeper into your past, to reveal the struggles that lay beneath your cheerful façade.

“So, do you have any special traditions for Christmas?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

You smiled softly, feeling a pang of nostalgia. “Ehm... Not really, to be honest.” you admitted, looking down at your mug. “My family doesn’t celebrate much anymore... It’s just… complicated.”

He leaned in slightly, his expression encouraging. “Complicated how? If I may know.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. “Well, my family never really supported my choice to study psychology.” you began hesitantly. “They always thought it was a waste of time, they wanted me to pursue something more… practical.”

Charles nodded, his face reflecting understanding. “That must have been hard for you.” he said gently.

“It was.” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve always wanted to help people, to understand their emotions and struggles. But when the people closest to you don’t believe in your dreams… it’s hard not to feel like you’re on the wrong path.” you say softly.

He reached across the table, his hand brushing against yours in a reassuring gesture. “You’re not on the wrong path, little star. You’re doing something incredibly important.”

You appreciated his support, but the doubt still lingered in your mind. “It’s just… I didn’t have their financial support either.” you confessed, feeling vulnerable. “I’ve had to work multiple jobs to pay for school, including the job at the pole dance club... It’s so exhausting.”

Charles listened intently, his brow furrowing slightly as he absorbed your words. “That sounds really tough, I can’t imagine how isolating that must feel.”

You nodded, grateful for his empathy. “It is isolating.” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve lost touch with friends who didn’t understand my commitment to my studies. It’s like I’m in this bubble where no one else really gets what I’m going through.”

He squeezed your hand gently, grounding you in that moment. “You’re not alone now.” he reassured you. “I’m here for you, and I want to understand what you’re experiencing.”

His sincerity washed over you like a warm wave, encouraging you to share more.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in this cycle of loneliness.” you confessed, tears welling up in your eyes. “I want to connect with others, but it’s hard when I feel so different from everyone else.”

Charles leaned closer, his voice soft and steady. “You’re not different in a bad way; you’re pursuing something meaningful. And those who truly care about you will see that...”

You looked into his eyes, searching for reassurance. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so.” he replied firmly. “You have so much passion and drive. That’s something to be proud of.”

As the conversation continued, you found yourself opening up more than you had anticipated. You shared stories of late nights spent studying, the moments of self-doubt that crept in during exams, and the fleeting joy of helping others during your internships.

His belief in you sparked something deep within—a flicker of hope that perhaps you weren’t as alone as you had felt for so long... The more you talked, the more liberated you felt from the weight of isolation that had clung to you for years.

***

The week leading up to New Year’s was always a time of reflection, a time when the world seemed to pause and take stock of the year gone by. The air was crisp, and the city sparkled with festive lights, but inside your cozy apartment, it was just the two of you—Charles and you—wrapped in a bubble of warmth and anticipation.

You had decided to spend the week together, a decision that felt both thrilling and terrifying. You could feel the chemistry bubbling between you—an electric charge that seemed to hum in the air whenever he was near, but with that chemistry came the fear of what it would mean if you let yourself fall for him.

As the sun began to set on the last day of the year, you and Charles found yourselves sprawled on the couch, surrounded by snacks and half-watched Christmas movies. The soft glow of fairy lights twinkled around the room, creating an intimate atmosphere that made your heart race, you glanced sideways at him, his profile illuminated by the flickering light from the TV. He looked so relaxed, his hair slightly tousled and a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he focused on the screen.

“Do you ever think about New Year’s resolutions?” Charles asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

You turned your head to look at him fully. “Sometimes.” you admitted. “But I’m not very good at keeping them.” you giggled.

He chuckled softly. “Same here, I usually start strong, but by February, I’ve forgotten all about them.”

“What do you think this year’s should be?” you asked playfully, trying to keep the conversation light.

He pondered for a moment, his brow furrowing adorably. “Maybe something like… be more spontaneous? Or try to embrace change?”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Embrace change? That sounds deep!”

“Yeah, well.” he said with a shrug. “I think it’s important to be open to new experiences, you never know what could happen.”

His words struck a chord within you. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was hinting at something more—something between the two of you. The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

“What about you?” he asked, turning the question back to you. “What do you want for this coming year?”

You hesitated, your heart racing as you considered your answer. Part of you wanted to say something lighthearted, but another part yearned for honesty.

“I guess… I want to be braver.” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Braver?” he echoed, his gaze intense as he studied your face. “In what way?”

You swallowed hard, feeling exposed under his scrutiny. “In life… in love.” you admitted, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’ve always been scared of getting hurt, so I hold back.”

He nodded slowly, understanding washing over his features. “That makes sense.” he said softly. “It’s hard to let someone in when you’re afraid of what might happen.”

You felt a connection deepen between you in that moment—a shared understanding of vulnerability that made your heart ache with longing.

“Exactly.” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “But I think… maybe I want to try.”

Charles’s expression softened as he leaned closer to you, his eyes searching yours for something unspoken. “Try what?” he asked gently.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your words hang in the air between you. “Try to let myself feel more… to let someone in.” Your heart raced as you said it, the truth spilling from your lips before you could stop yourself.

He held your gaze steadily, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. The world outside faded away until it was just the two of you—two souls intertwined in a moment of raw honesty.

“I’d like that.” he said finally, his voice low and sincere. “I’d like to be that person for you.”

A rush of warmth flooded through you at his words, but with it came a wave of fear... What if this was too much? What if falling for him meant risking everything? You pulled back slightly, breaking eye contact as uncertainty clouded your mind.

“Charles…” you started, but he interrupted gently.

“Hey.” he said softly, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch sent sparks through your skin, and you shivered involuntarily at his closeness. “We don’t have to rush into anything, I just want you to know that I’m here.”

His sincerity made your heart swell and ache all at once. You wanted so desperately to lean into him—to let yourself fall into this beautiful connection—but fear held you back like an anchor.

“Can we just… take it slow?” you asked quietly, your voice trembling with vulnerability.

“Of course we can do that.” he replied without hesitation. “I’d never want to push you into something you’re not ready for.”

You smiled gratefully at him, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. Maybe this was enough for now—just being here together, exploring this slow burn without any pressure or expectations.

As the evening wore on and the clock ticked closer to midnight, you found yourselves lost in conversation—sharing stories about childhood dreams and future aspirations, laughter punctuating each moment as the bond between you deepened.

At one point, Charles reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of his touch sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and for a moment, all your fears faded away.

As midnight approached, the anticipation in the air grew thick with excitement. You settled back against the couch, feeling giddy as Charles pulled out his phone to check the time.

“Just a few minutes left!” he exclaimed with a grin.

You couldn’t help but smile back at him; his enthusiasm was infectious. He glanced at you then, his expression softening as he leaned closer again.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly, his eyes locked onto yours.

“For what?” you asked teasingly.

“For whatever comes next.” he replied earnestly.

Your breath caught in your throat at his words—so simple yet so profound. In that moment, everything felt possible. You nodded slowly, feeling a rush of courage wash over you.

“Yes...” you whispered.

As the countdown began on TV, excitement bubbled between you like champagne ready to overflow. With each passing second, your heart raced faster until finally…

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

The room erupted in cheers from the television as confetti fell on-screen and fireworks lit up the sky outside your window. But all that mattered was Charles—his eyes sparkling with joy as he turned to face you.

And then it happened: he leaned in closer and pressed his lips against yours—a soft yet electrifying kiss that sent shivers down your spine. It was tentative yet filled with promise; a beautiful beginning wrapped in hope and possibility.

Time seemed to stand still as you kissed him back, savoring the sweet taste of new beginnings and uncharted territory. In that moment, all your fears melted away as if they had never existed at all.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, Charles smiled at you—a smile that lit up his entire face and made your heart soar.

“Happy New Year, petite étoile.” he murmured softly. (little star)

“Happy New Year charlie.” you echoed, feeling lighter than air as hope blossomed within you—a hope for what this year might bring and for the journey ahead with him by your side.

And as fireworks exploded outside your window, illuminating the night sky with vibrant colors, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe—just maybe—you were ready to embrace whatever came next together.

***

The days turned into weeks, and your bond with Charles deepened in ways you hadn’t anticipated. Each moment spent together felt like a new adventure, filled with laughter, shared secrets, and the warmth of companionship.

One evening, after a delightful dinner at a cozy restaurant, you found yourselves walking along the waterfront, the moonlight shimmering on the water's surface. The air was warm and fragrant with the scent of blooming jasmine, you felt a sense of peace wash over you as you strolled side by side, your fingers intertwined.

As you walked, Charles suddenly stopped, turning to face you with a serious expression that caught you off guard. “Can we talk about something?” he asked, his voice low and earnest.

Your heart raced slightly as you nodded. “Of course babe! What’s on your mind?”

He took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us—about how much I care for you. You mean more to me than I can express.” he said, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “I want to take care of you in every way possible.”

You felt a flutter in your chest, unsure where this conversation was leading but intrigued nonetheless. “What do you mean?” you asked softly.

Charles stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “I want to be your sugar daddy.” he said, his voice steady yet filled with emotion. “And I know it sounds weird, but it's not in a bad way, I mean, I want to support you while you study psychology, to help you leave behind all the stress and worries that weigh you down.”

Your mind raced as you processed his words. The idea of having someone like Charles in your life—someone who wanted to provide for you, who believed in your dreams and aspirations—was both exhilarating and daunting.

“Are you serious?” you managed to ask, your heart pounding.

“Absolutely!” he replied without hesitation. “I want us to build a life together. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I believe we could be so much more than what we are now.” He paused, gauging your reaction before continuing. “I want you to move out of Las Vegas and come with me to Monaco.”

The mention of Monaco sent a thrill through you. The thought of leaving behind the familiar chaos of city life for a place known for its beauty and luxury was intoxicating, but it also brought a wave of uncertainty.

“Monaco? That’s such a big step, Charles.” you said, trying to process everything. “But... What about my studies?” you asked softly.

Charles smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course you can continue your studies there! They have excellent universities, and I’ll make sure you have everything you need to succeed.” he said softly at you.

His words resonated deep within you, igniting a spark of hope and excitement that had long been dormant. The idea of pursuing your passion for psychology without the burden of financial stress felt like a dream come true.

“But what if it doesn’t work out?” you asked, vulnerability creeping into your voice. “What if I can’t adjust?”

Charles cupped your face in his hands, his gaze steady and reassuring. “Life is about taking risks, isn't it? And I believe in us—more than anything else in this world! I promise to be there every step of the way, you won’t be alone; we’ll figure it out together.”

His sincerity washed over you like a warm wave, and for the first time, you felt the weight of your worries begin to lift. The thought of embarking on this journey with him filled you with a sense of possibility.

“Okay.” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m willing to try.”

A radiant smile broke across Charles’s face as he pulled you into his arms, enveloping you in warmth and safety. “You won’t regret this, mon amour.” he whispered against your hair. (my love)

In that moment, everything felt so right to you... The world around you faded away as he held you close, and all that mattered was the connection between the two of you—a bond that had grown from two strangers into something deeper and more profound...

As the stars twinkled above like diamonds scattered across the night sky, you knew that this was just the beginning of an incredible journey together—one filled with love, adventure, and the promise of a brighter future.

***

The soft hum of the city outside your window filled the room as the moonlight spilled in, casting a silvery glow over your study room. You had been immersed in your psychology textbooks, determined to master the material before your upcoming class. However, fatigue had crept in, and before you knew it, you had succumbed to sleep, your head resting on your notes, surrounded by the comforting chaos of your studies.

Charles had just returned from a long day of meetings with sponsors, his mind still buzzing with the events of the day. He was looking forward to spending time with you, but as he stepped into your study room, he was met with a scene that made his heart swell... There you were, curled up on the desk, your little stuffed bear nestled beside you, as if it were standing guard while you slept.

A soft smile spread across his face at the sight. “Well, well, if it isn’t my little Sleepy Scholar.” he whispered affectionately, approaching you with quiet steps. He couldn’t help but chuckle softly as he began to pick up the scattered books, papers and highlighters on the table. “You really should consider changing your name to ‘Overworked Wonder.'” he teased gently, glancing down at your peaceful expression.

As he organized your notes, he found himself admiring how well you had adapted to life in Monaco. You had embraced the city with open arms, exploring its beauty and charm while pursuing your studies with unwavering determination. It filled him with pride and love to see you thriving after everything you had faced back in Vegas.

His fingers brushed against the plush bear, and he couldn’t resist giving it a gentle squeeze. “And look who’s here to protect my precious girl, hm?” he said with a playful grin. “You’re doing a fantastic job, Mr. Bear!”

With everything neatly arranged, he turned his attention back to you. The sight of you sleeping so soundly tugged at his heartstrings. He knew how hard you had been working and how much this new chapter meant to you, he wanted nothing more than to take care of you, to ensure that you felt safe and loved in this new place.

Gently, he slipped his arms under your body, lifting you effortlessly from the desk. You stirred slightly but didn’t wake as he cradled you against him. “Time for bed, my little scholar.” he murmured softly, the warmth of your body against his bringing him a sense of peace. “You need a deserved rest in a comfy bed.”

He carried you to the bedroom, the soft sound of his footsteps barely audible over the gentle lapping of waves outside. As he laid you down on the bed, he carefully tucked the covers around you, ensuring that you were warm and comfortable. The plush bear found its place beside you once more, as if it were keeping watch over you in your dreams.

Charles took a moment to admire you—your features relaxed in sleep, a serene expression gracing your face. The love he felt for you swelled within him as he brushed a stray hair away from your forehead. “Sweet dreams, my love.” he whispered softly before slipping into bed beside you.

As he settled in next to you, the day’s exhaustion caught up with him. He turned onto his side, propping his head up on his hand and watching you sleep for a moment longer. The way you breathed peacefully filled him with an overwhelming sense of contentment, It felt like everything was right in the world.

But soon enough, the weight of fatigue pulled at him too. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink into the warmth of the bed and the comfort of your presence. As sleep enveloped him, dreams began to weave their way into his mind—visions of laughter-filled days exploring Monaco’s stunning coastline together, quiet evenings spent sharing stories under starlit skies, and a future filled with love and promise.

In that shared moment of tranquility, two hearts beat as one—connected by love and trust, embracing the beauty of their journey together. The world outside faded away as they drifted into a peaceful slumber, knowing that they would face whatever challenges lay ahead side by side.

As the night wore on, Charles found himself wrapped in dreams filled with laughter and light—a reflection of the joy you brought into his life. And in that serene space, both of you slept soundly, cocooned in warmth and love in your new home in Monaco.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Puppy

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You get a four-legged friend

After your contract with Arsenal runs out, you have a lot of options.

You could have had your pick of the WSL - United wanted you, City wanted you, Chelsea had made an expensive offer that you were more than happy to turn down. The NWSL had expressed an interest as well but America wasn't something you wanted.

It was only when you were wrapping up your last training session at Arsenal before the World Cup did you get a call from your agent.

"Barcelona," He says," They're interested. They're rivalling Chelsea in the amount of money they're willing to pay you."

You couldn't care less about the money. "Set up the meeting."

The meeting was merely a formality and soon, you were packing up your things from London, saying goodbye to Arsenal and flying to Barcelona.

Momma and Morsa come with you, helping you move in.

Morsa laments about the flight times. "It's a lot further than London," She tells you like you don't already know," Almost five hours from home."

You roll your eyes as you unpack another soft blanket. "Morsa, I'll be fine. If anything happens, I'll call Tia Tana or Alexia. I'm not completely helpless."

"Your Morsa is just having a hard time adjusting," Momma assures you," She doesn't like the fact that you're leaving properly."

You roll your eyes again. "I already left properly."

Momma cradles your face. "Try telling her that. You're always going to be her little girl."

You huff but don't argue any longer, preoccupied with placing little knick-knacks on your shelves. At the bottom of one of the boxes is your childhood pet, Rocky the rock. You look at him fondly before giving him pride of place next to your medals.

"You still have that?" Morsa laughs as she joins you.

You roll your arms. "Hey! The bond between a girl and her pet rock is indescribable. Rocky is an important part of who I am."

"You and that rock-"

"His name's Rocky!"

"-Are so cute. You used to take that everywhere with you."

You roll your eyes. "You wouldn't let me get a puppy or a kitten."

"I think a puppy or a kitten would have been too much for the three of us," Momma says," We already had our hands full with you."

You scoff. "I was an angel."

"Hmm," Morsa says, pressing a kiss to your temple," Most of the time."

She and Momma exchange a look briefly and you're instantly suspicious when you catch Momma's phone getting a notification that you instantly see her clear from her screen.

"What are you two up to?"

Both of them smile even more suspiciously as there's a knock on the door.

"This isn't finished."

"I think it is," Momma murmurs behind you as you swing open the door.

"Hola!"

"Hola, Tia Tana," You say before suddenly falling silent.

There's a wriggling puppy in her arms and you coo softly, hand out for it to lick.

It's a Spitz of some kind. You're not sure which but it's definitely a Spitz. Those are your favourite kind of dogs. It's got a kind of reddish fur that looks really pretty and he's full of little wiggly energy that's absolutely adorable.

"He's so pretty, Tia Tana," You say as she lets him loose," I didn't know you got a dog."

"I didn't."

You sit on the floor with the puppy. "He's so cute. It is a he, right?"

Tia Tana nods. "It's a boy."

"You're so cute," You say to him, letting him jump up on your lap," Yes, you are. A very handsome boy. Like a little prince."

"A prince for our princesse," Morsa says," How do you like him?"

You don't quite understand what she means so you just coo over your new friend. You wished he was Tia Tana's so you could see him more often.

"Are you puppy sitting?" You ask her," He's so sweet."

Tia Tana laughs. "In a way," She says," I'm handing him off to his owner today. He's had all of his shots. He's been neutered and everything."

"He's so cute. I'd love to have a word with your owner. You're too handsome to let go."

"That's good," Momma says," Because he's staying with you."

You look up in shock, brows furrowed. "What?"

"We'd feel better if you had some company," Morsa explains," So we got into contact with Aitana before you moved to see if she could find a puppy for you."

"He's a Finnish Spitz," Tia Tana says with a smile," His Mami was very sociable and his Papa goes on runs with his owner. I'm sure he could keep up with you."

You look between the three of them. "Really?"

"Yes," Momma says with the smallest of smiles," He's yours, princesse. Why don't you give him a name?"

"Prins," You say instantly and your mothers start laughing.

"What's funny?" Tia Tana asks.

"His name means prince," Morsa laughs," Truly, a little prince for our princesse."

Prins barks, his little tail wagging. You stroke your fingers through his fur.

"We need to go back out," You say suddenly," We have to get him food! And a bed! And toys!"

"Already done," Tia Tana says," It's all being delivered soon."

You look down at Prins. He looks up at you, curly little tail wagging happily as he nibbles at your shirt sleeve with his little baby teeth.

"This is the best gift ever!"

[dellamortethelesser]

The Wigmaker Job

Notes and Thoughts - Part 2

pt1 | pt2 | pt3 | pt4 | pt5 | pt6 | pt7 (FINAL)

Picking back up in the next scene, Lucanis and Illario are exiting the tavern on their way to the contract. Here, they are described as "lean with dark hair and umber eyes". ← THIS MEANS THEY PURPOSELY GAVE MY POOKIE BLUE EYES TO MAKE HIM LOOK MORE EVIL.

(I also forgot to mention in the previous scene they discuss that Illario fastidiously grooms his 5 o'clock shadow so they also took THAT from us. But! Veilguard did give him a huge ass… no, I need his brown eyes back).

"Illario was all smiles. His was a calculated handsomeness. From his smooth skin to his perfect, white teeth, everything was contrived to be enticing". ← insane thing to say i think what did caterina do to influence that so strongly. like yes, lucanis is a mage-killer and that's certainly a Niche, but let's not pretend that Illario isn't filling a different sort of niche. both of them have been trained to be more valuable Alive than Dead.

"As they walked through the crowd, he basked in the appreciative glances he received," ← unsure whether this is omniscient on part of the author or intended to be directly lucanis's pov. this specific passage i've never been able to figure it out. if it's lucanis's pov though, i would wonder if that 'basking' isn't just… a front.

I have to assume this passage is somewhat omniscient because it goes on to say that "… while Lucanis stared ahead, focused and intense. He was the kind of man you couldn't look away from—until he looked at you." ← i have to assume this is all referring to Lucanis? if so? because if it is lucanis's pov why would he… idk. 'the kind of man you couldn't look away from' could still refer to illario? idk. it's a really hard passage for me to parse i feel stupid. debate in the reblogs

This whole next part of the story makes me insane because it's just further emphasizing my point that Lucanis gives absolutely no thought to Illario as an equal working with him on this contract—THAT HE ASKED ILLARIO TO BE HERE FOR. i'll try to break this down but i recommend just reading along in your own copy alsfjk

"So what's the plan? Now that Ambrose knows we're coming" / "We were never going through the front door." ← Illario is asking here, now that there's proof the Venatori know the Crows are after them, what the new plan is. he is only JUST NOW finding out that Lucanis never HAD a plan that didn't account for this? again i'm not sure how lucanis "knew" unless it's supposed to make him out to be the better assassin, but it reads as though he was purposefully keeping Illario in the dark.

hang on let me just directly quote this next part

"I bought THIS—" Illario gestured towards his tunic. "Because YOU said we were dispatching Tevinter's 'premiere' wigmaker at an exclusive party. Emphasis on exclusive." "Uh-huh." "It was a rush order. We were with the tailor for hours." "I recall." "Why let me go through the motions of purchasing formal wear for an event we're not actually attending?" "I know how much you enjoy dressing up," Lucanis goaded and ducked under a pointed archway.

But. You are attending this event. Crucially you are in fact both attending this event and do need Illario to dress the part to get YOU where YOU need to be. Why are you goading him on like this?!

You're both on the way to this contract—and Lucanis is leading him through a back entrance, btw, AND THE FACT THAT ILLARIO DOESN'T ALREADY KNOW THAT TELLS ME THAT LUCANIS DIDN'T TELL HIM THAT PART OF THE PLAN EITHER—so why are you doing this?!

Lucanis why are you fucking with him like this on purpose? THERE'S NO REAL REASON GIVEN IN HIS NARRATIVE SO I HAVE TO EXTRAPOLATE THAT THIS IS JUST NORMAL FOR THEM. WHICH ISN'T NORMAL

quick interlude to add that Lucanis's 'bleeding heart' sympathies are here from the jump; he is aware of the cultural importance of the vhenedahl, and remarks that the magisters trying to make a statue to keep their slaves in line had the opposite effect.

Again Lucanis reveals some way into the passageways they're using—that Illario didn't know about on both accounts—and is SMUG ABOUT IT. HE TOSSES ILLARIO A SMUG LOOK OVER HIS SHOULDERS.

"I wouldn't complain if you filled me in," he grumbled. "Yes, you would." "As much," Illario conceded. "I wouldn't complain as much."

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN BY THIS LUCANIS. The dynamic between them is just consistently reinforcing the idea that wherever Lucanis goes, Illario is expected to follow, unwaveringly, unquestioningly, and to be quite honest i would be driven fucking insane.

We're only so many pages in and there is a very clear way that Lucanis treats Illario just in the context of working CONTRACTS together, and that way is… not very good! YOU INVITED HIM HERE. WHY ARE YOU KEEPING HIM IN THE DARK?

I say this like I don't understand but a lot of people have rightly pointed out that this is their 'normal'. This is learned behavior, a learned dynamic, and I do believe Caterina is partly responsible for fostering it by showing such clear favoritism to Lucanis and likely giving him behavior to model.

Which goes back to my previous question of… why? If you're not going to name an heir and want this to be a winner takes it all relationship, why show such clear favoritism?! THESE ARE YOUR LAST TWO LIVING RELATIVES, CATERINA.

Back to the book. Lucanis's elf contact greets him with "Master Dellamorte". Cool! When she looks for an introduction, though, it is Illario that butts in with "Master Dellamorte the Lesser". ← hi my love. why did you do this? well because it reinforces the same shit we've been seeing the whole time. and calls back to how he already referred to lucanis as 'the great' in their first scene together.

"My cousin," Lucanis clarified. ← no defense or correction? fine maybe not the time or place. one of the more neutral statements that Lucanis has said to him but he's damned by faint praise and the fact there is no INNER NARRATIVE QUESTIONING ILLARIO'S ANSWER MEANS THIS IS ALSO ASSUMED TO BE NORMAL.

Heading up the passage. It's magic. the room spins

"Lucanis bit back a laugh as Illario held out an arm to steady himself." ← WHY. why is this funny to you. okay now im sounding like i'm seething at lucanis which i kind of am BUT TRUST I STILL LOVE HIM

THIS DYNAMIC IS JUST INSANE TO ME. okay anyways next bit. i'm covering one more scene and then will do another post for part 3. together we can work through this story a few pages every day. I'm gonna break up this last bit in some chunks

"You've made friends." / "You would too, if you ever left Treviso." / "I'm here now, aren't I?" ← Illario was trying to be nice. Lucanis immediately takes a shot at the fact that Illario stays in Treviso (are we implying here that Illario doesn't take jobs? Doesn't work?) and Illario reminds him that HE CAME TO VYRANTIUM FOR LUCANIS. He's here for you!

"Seriously, though, what is this place?" "A perk. Given by our mysterious benefactor." Lucanis quickened his pace, hoping to leave the answer at that. Illario did not take the hint. "Speaking of, I have some questions about him… her… them?"

1) diversity win

2) AGAIN. Illario is being kept in the dark about things and Lucanis is intentionally not sharing them. WHY? We are never given a reason WHY from Lucanis. Just that he doesn't want to share anything with Illario—ostensibly about their client but ABOUT THE WHOLE CONTRACT IS WHAT THE NARRATIVE SHOWS.

"Oh, come on," Illario urged, matching Lucanis's pace. "When have we ever taken on an anonymous client?" "Since someone could put tangible stock in the phrase 'Silence is golden'." "You're not the least bit curious?" Lucanis exhaled through his nose. "If someone wants to pay me top coin to kill a bunch of racist blood mages—who have it coming—I'm not going to complain."

again we see Lucanis's sympathies coming to light. these are not bad feelings to have obviously we should hate racists. but they are assassins paid to kill and not get emotionally entangled in the job which Lucanis consistently does in this short story.

additionally. again. the way he talks to illario. i just. can it be stated enough at any point.

Quotes are either paraphrased or taken directly from The Wigmaker Job, written by Courtney Woods.

[devilander]

I don't know your rules so I hope this is ok.

Homelander being bored one day and finding boxes full of your old things that your parents kept and he can't pass up on an opportunity to learn more snoop about you. He finds old teddy bears/ drawings/ pictures. Ya know, the typical nick knacks that a proud parent thinks they might be useful someday. It mads him a bit sad that he missed out on so many 'just being a kid' moments but he is enjoying the glimpses that he finds when he sees you in your little league uniform or you soaking wet with a big grin on your face at some waterpark.

You eventually find him all surrounded by memories and see the glassy look in his eyes, you just can't help but crawl in his lap and comfort him. You talk about some of the stuff you guys find, laughing at some. You tell him you promise to make as many happy memories for Ryan and by extension him in the future.

Again, sorry if this is not what you were looking for. Please ignore this or DM me if you want something specific. My brain worms are always a wigglin'.

You finally agreed to move in with Homelander a few months ago. More of a formality, since you already lived in his penthouse most of the time. Yet your parents were so delighted—it was funny, actually, how enchanted they were with him. Their baby girl with America's hero! And he was a charmer too!

Though you lacked for nothing in his house, your parents kept sending housewarming gifts; just trinkets, silly things. Two pairs of white slippers with red stars in them—that one had warranted a full-blown laugh from both of you.

A blue blanket your father had knitted—that one left Homelander at a loss of words. He stared at it for a moment, then silently put it in the bed.

And the boxes! Four boxes filled with knick-knacks; mementos from your childhood and teenage years you were unsure if it'd make Homelander uncomfortable, so… It's not like you hid them (as if you could hide anything from him, anyway), more put them in the very back of your closet and chose not to speak much of it, only mentioned in passing.

“My parents sent even more stuff! Can you believe it?”

The next day, as you left for work, Homelander decided to snoop. It wasn't even snooping, really. You lived with him, you shared it all. And, c’mon, you were an open book. He could read you in a second, knew each flicker of your eyes, every change of breath, the way you scrunched up your nose unconsciously.

He opened every box, sitting on the floor, surrounded by glimpses of your childhood. A picture of you, in your little league uniform, all smiley and proud. A kind of an ugly drawing of what he supposed was meant to be you and your parents. An enormous, threadbare shark plushie you once said was your favorite thing when you were seven.

It was all so mundane—yet his eyes prickled. This was something he'd never be able to share with you.

So lost in his thoughts, he almost didn't notice you'd already come back, and was walking toward the bedroom.

“Hey, you,” you whispered softly. Your chest contracted painfully when you noticed his glassy eyes. It was an effort not to cry too.

“Hey, babe.” He laughed, but it felt hollow. “Juuuust checking some things you tried hiding from me, missy.” He wiggled his finger in your direction in faux annoyance, but you saw it for what it was.

“Baby…” You crawled towards him, sitting in his lap, touching his cheek. “I didn't want to hide it, I just didn't want to upset you.”

“Why would I be upset?” He snorted, now holding a picture of you when you were thirteen.

You groaned.

“Please laser this right now.”

“Why? You look so… cute.” You tried to snatch it from him, but he wouldn't let it. “Awnnn, look at those buck teeth. You look like a rabbit.” He snickered.

“You mean, mean man!” But you giggled too.

As you found more pictures and drawings, and even one Homelander plushie—that he'd never let you live it down—the mood slowly lightened, and you both laughed as you told him all your embarrassing childhood stories. You knew your parents would tell him all anyway.

After a while, you were just laying down in each other's arms, sharing languid kisses in peaceful quietness.

“You know,” you murmured, fingers caressing his hair. “One day, you'll have all of this too. With me, with Ryan, with our future babies. We'll be the happiest family in the entire world.”

He then held your face so tenderly, eyes glassy again—but those were happy tears, a gentle smile on his face.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you more.”

[riality-check]

hi, love your viktor fic! since you say you find him easy to write and you feel like you've really got his speech down, could you give some advice on how to write his dialogue/these unique dialogue things you say you've noticed? I've watched the show 3 times but still find him so hard to write!

Anon, you have no idea the yapping you've unleashed. I love discussing the intricacies of speech, and I love discussing Viktor, so strap in and prepare for quite the long post.

Don't feel bad about not getting his voice down! Character voice is difficult, and it's even more difficult to maintain consistently. I have it a bit easier; I have a knack for memorizing speech patterns very well. So, once I metaphorically store the file in my brain, it's pretty easy to test all my writing for the "he would not fucking say that" phenomenon.

In my opinion, Viktor's speech can be summarized - though this is quite the reductionist summary - as having a lot of the same quirks as that of those who learn English in a schoolroom setting. He speaks very "standard" (in quotes because I don't feel like getting into the linguistic debate over that categorization right now) English. This entails a lot of things; for Viktor, this manifests as speaking in a register that is slightly more formal than many other characters in the show.

(Of course, these phenomena transcend learning English specifically. I actually run into them frequently when I speak Italian. But because the show is in English, I'm taking English as Viktor's assumed second language and will be using that reference throughout this post.)

Specific ways that manifests in my writing for him are outlined below. There are a lot, but I've listed my top three for brevity's sake.

No contractions

This one is difficult for me! I naturally write how I speak, which means I frequently clip my words. Plus, most of the characters' whose POVs I write from have very casual speech. Viktor is the exception. Changing your "can't"s to "cannot"s, your "didn't"s to "did not"s, etc. will help you achieve that slightly more formal register that Viktor tends to speak in. It's a bit of a pain, and it feels strange at first, but to me, it's one of the simplest ways to get your writing on the way to sounding more like Viktor.

Minimize your slang (and swearing)

I'm mostly taking this one from the "crank it" scene. A lot of second language learners aren't specifically taught slang in their target language; they have to learn it as they go. In that scene, Viktor encounters a phrase that is new to him, hesitates, understands, and then adopts it. Slang, for Viktor, is acquired. Demonstrating that in your fic rather than having him use it completely organically like a native English speaker would is another way to get your dialogue more in character for him.

Additionally, to my knowledge, Viktor doesn't swear in the show. I do have him swear in my fic, but extremely sparingly and only in cases of extreme emotion. Second language speakers (in my personal experience) are rarely taught profanity on purpose, and it often takes a while to use it fluently in their target language. So if you're having Viktor swear, do it sparingly, or write it out in whatever real world analog you think his native language is for some fun flavor!

Use specific verbs

There's a writing post I saw a while ago but cannot locate that describes this better than I could. The gist of this is to eliminate verbs such as "is," "has," "seems," etc. in favor of more specific verbs. This is less of an "English as a second language" quirk and more of a "Viktor is intelligent and Academy-educated" quirk. Viktor is precise and specific with his words whenever he speaks. Some examples of this that I've used have been "permits" instead of "lets," "inquires" instead of "asks," "fabricate" instead of "make." This also extends to nouns; "quandary" instead of "problem" is taken straight from the show. Using some of those higher-register words is very reminiscent of Viktor.

I hope this helped, anon!! This was super fun for me to make, and if anyone else has any additions, pls add on to this post!!

[alfredojesta]

JASON THE TOYMAKER

MANSION HEADCANONS PT. 1

This includes information about his past and present. Everything here is canon to my AU. I'll be making a second post to cover his relationships.

CW: child abuse, misogyny, gore (below the cut)

GENERAL HEADCANONS: HERE

For context, Liver's Jason is the one we use for our shared AU. I just like analysing the fuck out of him. :)

✧ Jason's room is on the third floor, end of the hall. His room is a workshop. Nothing else. His door is one of the only doors that aren't plastered with decorations. It's just plain wood.

✧ He owns a flat in the city, as well as a local toy-shop. But he takes orders from all over the world, delivering toys via his "blue door".

✧ Jason isn't the traditional proxy. He doesn't work for Slenderman, nor is he "under" him in anyway—Of course, he follows the rules of the mansion, but that's because Slender grants him residency there.

✧ Slenderman brought Jason in as a way to prevent his enemies from getting to him first. They signed a contract, moving Jason from London to Toronto where the other proxies resided.

✧ Under Slenderman's watch, Jason would practically be protected from everything. It was a golden opportunity. The contract stated that Jason would be given his own workshop at the mansion. Not only that, but his own bathroom and closet—a luxury only Jason has. Because he didn't sign the contract otherwise.

✧ (In his own words, sharing anything with the other proxies sounds disgusting. Gods forbid he would ever do that!)

✧ Jason is a soul collector, meaning he must consume souls for survival. He acquires his souls from the women he "fixes", and from Candy Pop (Jason fixes his hammer, and if he needs souls, Candy Pop is obligated to hand some to him).

✧ The only way for his toys to be given an ability, or living forms, is if they have a soul infused with it. But, not all souls can be fixed to all objects. Jason will have to make several adjustments to both the soul and its vessel before they connect.

✧ Jason is a germaphobe and refuses to get any blood on him. He's always wearing a pair of gloves. When he "kills" victims, he's really only harvesting their souls. Their embalmed corpses are then beautified for show.

✧ Because he's a soul collector, he has great intuition when it comes to reading people. It goes well with his social expertise.

✧ Jason has always been charming. Good at masking in public. He treats socialising as a game, predicting what someone will say and choosing the correct dialogue option to get his desired result. Socialising can be exhausting since he's always putting on an act. (Some might even say he's autistic...) (Because he is!)

✧ Jason is polite to the others. He remains respectful and civil, coming across as friendly to all—if not a little monotonous and bland. He's shockingly a good listener when he's not held up with orders. But, he tends to only speak up if the conversation pertains to himself.

✧ If Jason is provoked otherwise, he'll do what he can to fight back without ruining his reputation. In serious cases, he lashes out. He finds ways to get back on top, painting himself as the wronged. It always works, but certain people have learned to be suspicious of him.

✧ He speaks formally. Never swears, unless it's using the lord's name in vain. His vocabulary is large, but he doesn't speak bombastically. Jason reads a lot of books when he has the time to. He enjoys classic literature, but refuses to touch anything modern.

✧ Jason is rather awful with technology. He knows the basics (such as texting, taking photos, answering emails), but he's the type to use a real encyclopedia instead of looking something up on the internet. The transition from the Victorian Era into the 21st Century was horrid for Jason, given he was in the Under World for most its development. When he got out in the late 1900s, everything was different.

✧ His hair is naturally wavy, but he straightens it every morning. His demonic form tends to poof his hair back up, which angers him even more. Only a few people have seen Jason's demonic form. He hides it well.

✧ He loves doing his makeup and he can't live without it. He would do his nails but they're all short, chipped, or on the verge of tearing off. Jason's fashion sense is classy, though he has somewhat of a ring-master flair. He definitely wears heels. 6'3" and greedy. His femininity is something he's insecure about, but won't ever admit it.

✧ His cane was given to him by Splendorman, who believed Jason was a ringmaster like him. Jason decided to keep it because it went well with his outfit. But also... it helped him walk... He never knew how bad standing 24/7 was for him until he got that cane.

✧ Jason liked circuses because he'd see them on newspapers when he was younger. But he was never allowed to go. Nowadays, he hates clowns. He thinks they're so fucking annoying. Jason will hang himself before he has to go to another shitty circus show.

✧ Jason's flat is decorated with a patch-work aesthetic. Not out of choice, but because Mr. Glutton keeps chewing on the furniture. He also chews on Jason's clothes, which is why they have stitches and patches. Jason has tried to get Mr. Glutton to stop, but that damn snake won't listen.

✧ For Liquorice, Red Mouse, and Mr. Bunny, Jason crochets fake food for them, which he keeps in his fridge. His fridge lacks anything else. There's just lemons, sweetener, milk, and peas in the freezer. He doesn't have a spice-rack anywhere, and if he did, it'd only have table salt and sugar.

✧ Jason likes to craft furniture himself. Everything in his flat is also painted by him. The cabinets have designs on them. So do his pots and pans; dinnerware and cutlery. Jason isn't allowed to paint the ceiling, but if he lived in a house, he would.

✧ Jason is obsessed with his image to a frightening degree.

✧ Jason started off as a lonely boy with discouraging parents (abusive father, and a desperate mother). He only had Amelia, whom he clung onto. Despite Amelia being popular, she was soon isolated after becoming his friend. Jason was bullied by the others for not fitting in. He was called names, physically assaulted, and ostracised.

✧ The bruises piled up. From school and from his father, who was adamant on "toughening" him up. At the age of 10, Jason sprained his wrist. He learned how to use his left-hand in this time. Jason's father resented him for his aspirations. For his "feminine" traits, and lack of social skills. Jason bottled up his feelings, deciding it'd be better to live with them than be vulnerable.

✧ Jason was their only son, but he couldn't live up to their expectations. Jason was exposed to domestic violence between his parents, who'd often argue about him. It started to sound like it was his fault that nothing was going right for the family. And maybe it was.

✧ Jason's misogynistic ideals come from his father. He learned to internalise his teachings, even though he never liked his father. Jason is never outwardly misogynistic (in fact, he tends to speak out against sexism), but he holds the women in his life beneath him. Jason also has internalised homophobia, but that's directed toward himself.

✧ Amelia's family supported Jason when he was kicked out by his parents. He was able to rent a little flat! And after getting his shit together, he started up his business. Amelia was there to encourage him and give him anything he needed for the shop.

✧ Jason wasn't used to so much "love" and attention. There would be crowds building up on the streets of London, waiting for his shop to open. People his age wanted to be around him instead of picking on him for being weird. They'd give him their numbers, invite him to social events, actually show interest in him. Jason was bewildered, but not opposed to it in the slightest.

✧ NGL HE DEFINITELY ATTRACTED MILFS BECAUSE OF ALL THE MUMS THAT CAME IN WITH THEIR KIDS.

✧ Jason develloped issues with his image around this time, believing he had to be absolutely perfect no matter what. If he saw even the slightest flaw, it'd drive him mad. He perfected his makeup, his hair. His clothes were always ironed and fitted. He was a picky eater, only consuming what would keep him in shape. Jason's routine is rigid. He doesn't let anything disturb it.

✧ Amelia called him out several times, stating that she should be allowed to make friends if Jason's allowed to make friends. Jason has always told her that they're the only good people in the world, so it made no sense for him to go out and befriend others. Jason reassured Amelia that his loyalty is with her, and he's only putting up a good front for business.

✧ That made Amelia even angrier, because now she knew Jason was faking his personality. It drove her the wrong way, but Jason would manipulate her into thinking she's overreacting.

✧ The more people that "loved" him, the more Jason was pressured to keep that "love" on him. Over the years, the pressure became too much. He overworked himself to death. Kept himself in the workshop day and night. So focused on working, he neglected other aspects of his life (such as himself and Amelia).

✧ It was difficult to balance his work-life and his self-care, but his work-life was so much more important. Without it, he wouldn't have that attention he so desperately craved. Jason only forced himself back to his flat when he realised he had to bathe. In these moments, he'd hate himself for being occupied with his work to a point of abandoning his routine. He was still human back then.

✧ Amelia would often be with him at the workshop, but her company stopped helping. Jason's patience thinned, and he started to lash out at her if she hummed, breathed too loudly, or even moved at all. Their final argument cut Amelia from his life entirely. Jason was so disgusted with himself, but he kept thinking Amelia would come back.

✧ Weeks passed, and Amelia didn't come back. Jason couldn't focus on his work. There was that nagging voice in the back of his head that told him to go find Amelia. He couldn't ignore it. He knew he had to do something. So he crafted the music box for her. Went to her house to apologise. He looked better than he ever looked that day.

✧ Jason poured his heart out to Amelia. He told her much he missed her, and how sorry he felt for hurting her. He promised he'd never do anything like that again, reassured her that his priority will become their friendship. He held out the music box. A beautiful gift. The start of new beginnings. And Amelia refused to accept his apology—

✧ What?

✧ ...She refused? That doesn't make sense. Jason worked so hard on that. They'd been friends for so long. How could she just drop him like that? Amelia shoved the music box back into his hands, yelling at him to never show his face again. Jason couldn't believe it. Did she just forget everything Jason did for her?

✧ Jason stood at the entrance. Everything was quiet. He lost her for good.

✧ Jason went back to his workshop. Beyond stressed, malnourished, and lacking proper sleep. He was angry, too, but he wasn't sad. He couldn't be sad about it, only frustrated that Amelia would be so unreasonable.

✧ He was spiralling, so close to losing it when a little girl knocked on the shop. It snapped him back to reality. He's a famous toymaker, right! People still "love" him. That's what he worked for. He doesn't need Amelia anymore...

✧ Oh, but the shop was closed that day. The girl was on her own, and it wasn't an especially busy evening. Jason put on a friendly facade and welcomed her in, but warned her the shop was closed, and she needed to be quick.

✧ The girl took her time. It bothered Jason. It bothered him a lot. What was she doing? The girl was about eight years old. Maybe her mum or dad would come get her soon, Jason hoped. But no.

✧ She finally picked out what she wanted. The music box—No, that's not for sale. Jason took it back, telling her to find something else. But the girl insisted upon it. Jason didn't have time for any of this. He had to go back to work. She continued to bargain with him, and Jason was so close to losing his patience. That music box was for Amelia—but, why was Jason trying to save it in the first place? Amelia refused it, so he should just give it to that child, right? Gods, everything is too complicated. He's stressed out of his damn mind and nothing's going right for him anymore. And that whiny child kept on crying about wanting that stupid box—

✧ Jason couldn't think.

✧ A chord in him snapped. He became victim to his own anger. Jason killed the little girl on accident—mallet to the head. He didn't know what he did until she tumbled back. The music box broke apart as it fell from her hands.

✧ Jason dropped the mallet. There was blood splattered on his face. There was blood. On his face. Jason looked down. The child was dead.

✧ Jason knew he had to dispose of the body. Everything was at stake. He could dismember her corpse, hide it in Mr. Glutton. That'd work.

✧ But he first had to lock up the store. Cover the windows, and bring the corpse to the back. Still, he couldn't bring himself to start sawing. Jason was disgusted with his actions. He had sobbed for what seemed like hours, unable to get himself together. Even as Jason began to dismember the body, he took multiple breaks, having to calm himself down from the horrific sight. Hyperventilating and nauseous. He had no one to blame but himself.

✧ But it wasn't his fault.

✧ It was the little girl's fault. It was Amelia's fault. It was the kids at the playground. It was his mother. And it was his god damn father.

✧ When Jason finally hid the body—he didn't know how much time had passed. He looked like a mess. He wanted to throw up. He hadn't slept in days. Hadn't eaten. He didn't want to leave the workshop. Even though it smelt like rotten flesh and blood.

✧ Things got worse when a customer knocked at the door. It must have been an opening day. Jason didn't want to answer. He didn't want to do anything anymore. But it'd look suspicious if he didn't.

✧ Amelia was there. Jason said nothing, processing her appearance, wondering if she was even real. But Amelia only came to return the old gifts he gave to her. Jason thought now would be the perfect time to win her back. If he told her his pitiful story—about how he was so stressed, he took it out on a stranger—she'd feel sorry for him. She'd realise how unlike him it is, and she'd finally forgive him.

✧ That didn't happen. Instead, Amelia was scared. She asked him where the stranger was. Who was it? Where did this happen? And then Jason broke down, admitting to everything. He begged her to stay because he couldn't take it anymore. But Amelia refused. Heartbreak was quick to transform into anger.

✧ The two of them got into a small fight. It's here that Jason dies, actually! Because he's so weak, Amelia easily knocked him to the floor. Amelia didn't want Jason to live anymore. She was scared for his future. He could grow up to be someone awful. To prevent him from killing more girls, and abusing more women, Amelia sliced him down the chest with a saw.

✧ Unfortunately, he didn't die. But he was sent to the Under World—which is like a purgatory in my AU.

✧ Jason is basically cursed, in a way. He woke up in the Under World as a vengeful demon. He lived there for a couple of years before he was sent back. I say he's cursed because Jason has all the abilities he could want, but it'll never be enough. He's trapped in a cycle. He sabotages his own life by just being himself. I'd love to go more in-depth on this analysis one day, but for the sake of simplicity, this is all I'm saying here.

✧ The scar Amelia gave him never heals. Jason always has to sew it back up. No one knows he has the scar. He knows it's his only flaw and he despises it.

✧ His heart is NOT a music box. It's just rotten, like his blood! It beats quietly. Very faint unless someone goes right up to it, but he'd probably punch that someone if they tried.

(dividers by dollywons) ☆

long post! i apologise. i love him very much, and this doesn't even scratch all of him. there's still A LOT more i have to say. like a shit ton. feel free to send any questions because i love yapping!!! :D hhehehe

[aiambia]

The Talon's Wing

I think there should be more titles and ceremonies for the Crows in Dragon Age.

It's a damn shame that we didn't get a formal ceremony when Lucanis was named First Talon. The organization has a clear hierarchy and a house structure which (according to the Dragon Age wiki) imitates the great noble families of Thedas. And what does nobility frequently have?

Titles and ceremonies.

Hear me out:

Titles

I think a Talon's right-hand man should be their "Wing." Now, practically, this can be a sibling, parent, cousin, spouse, child, close friend, etc, but every leader has a second, right?

Where a Talon is the first offense, the the part of a crow which attacks, grabs, and walks, the Wing is a crow's support. Wings move crows about in the sky, controlling how fast or slow the bird moves. Wings are also a more obvious symbol or part of a bird.

For the Antivan Crows, this means where the Talons lead, the Wings support. Maybe they're the face of the house, the decoy to protect their Talon, or maybe they take ownership of training and the fledglings and uplifting the house's status.

I imagine them marked with silver wing pins (for cuffs, lapels, hair) in a style unique to the house. Talons are less obviously marked, given silver masks, similar to the bird masks (the masquerade-style ones, not the stupidly realistic bird head) as a sort of "crown" to wear in more formal settings.

Ceremonies

Pins can be given by a Talon at any time. There may be a ceremony for it, or there may just be a conversation.

But masks? Masks are given at a formal ceremony, an "anointment" if you will. It's a grand affair that involves all of the Talons and their families. In times of relative peace, the entirety of the crows will be invited, though in recent years (given the Qunari invasion, the events of Tevinter Nights, the Evanuris, and the possible blighting of Treviso) it's kept to just the Talons and their family.

The outgoing Talon, or an older member of the house begins the ceremony, calling for someone to take the mantle of leadership. The Talon-to-be answers the call, processing into the ceremony chamber with their family walking behind them. At some point, the Talon-to-be stops, while the family continues forward, taking their places at the head of the chamber as a show of unity.

The Talon-to-be is then presented with blessings from the other Talons. The blessings are both in words and physical representations--the other Talons dress the Talon-to-be in jewels and cloaks and paint as symbols of burden that the new Talon will assume.

Their final stop is kneeling before the outgoing Talon who wears the mask, the crown to be passed down.

The Talon-to-be is presented with a ceremonial knife, the one that they'll use to assassinate their first target as Talon later on. They use that knife to cut their hand and take the final piece of their ensemble: The Crown of the Talon.

The handprint in blood smeared across the face of the mask acts as the contract for the new Talon: they will bleed for the Crows, as the burden of leadership demands.

I used this concept in a fic, and honestly I'm posting this cause it's just such a cool concept to me that I wanted other writers to be able to use it too. There are changes and additions that can be made, surely, but this was too good not to share.

[shalom-iamcominghome]

I’m going to send emails out soon to finally try to find a willing rabbi to guide me in the conversion process. I’ve said I wanted to convert in December but was thinking about it even before then (that’s just when I told people). But I’m worried about not being Jewish enough. Like I want to convert ‘orthodox’ Sephardic, which ik is kind of redundant bc most sephardic ppl just say sephardic and aren’t rlly divided into orthodox, conservative, reform either due to historical reason, but like what if I turn out being not so orthodox after? Like I love the idea of being observant, but I know that I’m not someone to wear modest dress 24/7 (rn I only wear shorts like a handful of times of year but I’ll also wear leggings, and tights pants or v neck shirts that show cleavage). And I’m not a virgin and don’t really want to be celibate. Idk I just feel like if I go through the process of converting and being observant, I will be expectant to be fully observant and idk if that’s an expectation I can’t hold. Are there any other ppl that converted only to become ‘less’ observant after? And idk observance is a personal things, but many ppl will still look at you as less observant if you don’t follow every interpretation they do

I want to preface this by saying I hope you are able to find a rabbi who you feel safe to discuss this with. Oftentimes, you'll find that they themselves can empathize with you, even if they themselves are born jews. Jewish identity for all is complex. I also hope that, in answering this further, you might find comfort and know that you are worthy of converting.

I am in a mixed Ashki and Sephardi conservative shul, and my sponsoring rabbi is himself not conservative (I'm in a unique position). When he and when other rabbis ask about observance goals, I have noticed it is so they can anticipate how they can best help you. I myself want to be a 'typical' conservative jewish man, so I find some level of empathy with you! It's hard! And you're in what can feel like a raw and vulnerable space, one where judaism feels just out of reach, something you want or need. Trust me when I say I absolutely get it.

I felt the exact same as you before I joined my shul and later again when I found my rabbi. I worried about the fact that I didn't know how to daven, when to bow, the fact that the siddur is transliterated differently than what we say. It was overwhelming! But then... my community privileged me and truly put such an astounding effort in supporting my journey. It is by no means over, but they treat me the same as any other jew in the congregation. I'd feel weird if I pulled by phone out during shabbos because they hold me in the same light as them. All of this is to say that it is just as likely that you will find a community with whom you feel embraces you through this entire wonderful journey. It is entirely possible to marry your goals with judaism - it has been done before. How could a culture, a religion, a people have survived millenniums without someone like you having made a similar journey and made it as a jew? There will always be people like you, like me, who have made this journey and made it work for them, with others who loved them as a comrade, lover, friend, and confidant.

And when it comes to a varying of practice once you are jewish? It is only natural if that happens. A conversion is not an ever-lasting contract to stay stagnant in your practice - it is, essentially, formalizing that you are part of this people. I have been following plenty of jews who have converted and who have both become more observant and less observant. In fact, a ruling about this which has truly comforted me is from Ben-Zion Meir Hai Uziel, a Sephardi chief rabbi who made a ruling about this:

You are human, and there are 613 mitzvot. Hardly any of us consistently follow them all - especially when many require the temple! We can only expect you to do your best, to live jewishly under your terms and readiness! It takes some of us years to work up to certain observances, and that is regardless of jewish status. It would be unfair to expect you to take on more than you are ready for, regardless of if you have immersed yet or not. Heck, I only feel comfortable observing a select amount of mitzvot because I want to understand all of them before doing them. I want my soul to yearn for an aspect of observance, because my personal goal is to fall hopelessly and madly in love with jewish life, judaism, and this wonderful people. I want to emphasize that we all come at judaism with a unique, interesting, and worthy background. Yours is no exception.

I hope that, maybe, you got something out of this rambling. You are worth it to convert if you have decided this is your desire, want, or need. I for one welcome you here, and hope that our paths continue to cross. Please don't hesitate to talk anytime - judaism is a communal practice. It is not something you can wholly do alone.

[demonslayedher]

Tengen's Favorite: Fugu

A.k.a., the pufferfish, a flamboyant way to flirt with death by tetrodotoxin.

"Sempai, you didn't!" you might be shaking your screens as a way to shake sense into me. "Sempai, I thought you wouldn't risk your life for Kimetsu Kitchen!" So you say, but I'd like to remind you that I am a bad cook and I could probably find less flamboyant methods of culinary death. But also I am here to educate, and guess what? This isn't my first time eating fugu. It's time to knock the flamboyance down a notch by telling you that fugu is more commonly consumed than you might think, as well as give you the details about Uzui Tengen's favorite food in a safe way.

Because yes, you should mind safety.

Cutting out the liver and other toxic organs is a very precise, very crucial process, so let's allow Hinatsuru to concentrate and ask our local fish-fan and poison expert to tell us more.

"Thank you for asking! Did you know pufferfish don't make this neurotoxin themselves? They get it from eating things like mollusks and bacteria, so I'll bet in the future raising these fish in farms with controlled diets will be popular. The tetrodotoxin, or TTX, blocks the passage of sodium ions into a nerve cell, thereby not letting signals to contract reach the muscles. Although there is no antidote, it's a poison humans can metabolize rather quickly, provided they have artificial respiratory assistance. The paralysis and all the other symptoms sure won't be fun, though!"

Thanks, Shinobu! Taisho Secret: Shinobu's goldfish is named Fugu.

She's right about the farmed fugu, and I've heard it said that people who can taste a difference between farmed fugu and wild fugu tend to prefer it farmed anyway. What's also important to note is that there are many varieties of fugu, and "torafugu" (tiger puffer) is the safest variety, and what is typically consumed. Although some people say the livers are the best part, they are typically rich people who wind up eating their words later on. Don't listen to them, they are dead.

We'll pause here to acknowledge the history, because not everyone who has ingested wild fugu has doomed themselves to consciously watching themselves suffocate over the course of a few hours. There are records of use their use in Chinese medicine, and even though Toyotomi Hideyoshi (one of the three great unifiers of Japan) formally banned their consumption and the Tokugawa shogunate upheld this ban, people continued to consume them anyway, especially in areas where the Tokugawa shogun was not popular. (I'd like to imagine some Uzui ancestors ate fugu out of spite.)

One region not especially privy to the shogunate was the Choshu domain, in modern day Yamaguchi prefecture. This domain played a major role in overthrowing the shogunate and establishing the Meiji government, and the first prime minister, Itou Hirobumi, was from Yamaguchi. The story goes that in 1887, it was on visit down at the very western tip of Japan's main island that he stayed at an inn and wanted fish, and the lady of the establishment had no fish to serve him except the illegal pufferfish. She decided it was better to risk what might look like an attempted assassination of the top guy in the country than to serve him a subpar meal.

Well, bam, it was so good that pufferfish was legal the following year! By my calculations and presumed dates that KnY takes place, that means it was already legal before Tengen was born. Sorry, buddy, you don't get to be that edgy.

As for how to eat it, the most iconic way is to eat it raw, sliced so thin that you can still see elaborate patterns on the dishes through the translucent flesh. This is called "tessa." It's often arranged in elegant patterns evocative of chrysanthemums, or on festive occasions, like a phoenix. It's most often a winter dish, but you can get it all year round. It has a very, very light, rather unflamboyant flavor, and is therefore typically eaten with a special variety of onions grown to accompany it, and other condiments like ponzu, citrus, and momiji-oroshi (grated daikon with chili pepper).

The main draw is the texture of the fish. As someone who enjoys sashimi, I did find the texture of tessa very, very nice when I recently got a chance to try it. The same meal also served the skin, and the flesh cooked into a rice porridge dish.

I wonder if Hinatsuru is almost done?

Not yet. Then let's talk about incidents and safety!

Basically, if you're not in Japan: DON'T DO IT. Heck, if you're in the European Union, it's illegal in the first place. There are very, ve-r-r-r-y slim opportunities of eating it in the United States after it is sourced from Japan, and although frozen tessa can travel, really, why bother eating in New York City? If you have that budget to spend, just fly to Japan. Anywhere else... just don't do it. The restaurant fatalities in recent years have primarily been in countries that don't have as stringent of a training and certification process as Japan. Japan also has a small handful of cases each year, but they don't usually end in fatalities because the accidental poisonings may not always be a large dose, and the victims received medical attention that got them through the crucial hours of paralysis. Also, those cases have typically been due to overconfident fishermen, not mistakes made by industry professionals.

But if you're in Japan----oh! It looks like Hinatsuru is done.

All of those examples? Things I have eaten in real life, often under the mistaken impression that "fugu" referred to two different kinds of fish (as happens sometimes), as there was no way I'd have eaten fugu without signing a waiver first, right???

No. Not at all. It is totally realistic to find yourself in a situation where you are served fugu without realizing what it is (though I imagine most tourists don't find themselves in these situations unless they have a guide who planned things without asking about dietary preferences). To demystify this fish a bit, there is so much fugu consumed without incident that you can get to a point where the possibility of poison doesn't even cross your mind. They sell it at a regular grocery story just down the street from where I live in a place that is not famous for fugu or anything like that. (Also, no one brings it up as much, but raw eel is toxic too! You never see it available for sale unless it's been precooked or specially marinated. Again, industry standards.)

Granted, I was still nervous about eating tessa, and the danger is still part of the thrill of fugu, though the industry stresses its merits as a tasty and (otherwise) healthy fish. I get the feeling that if Tengen lived in the Reiwa era, he'd find pufferfish disappointingly lower risk now than suits his thrill. Nonetheless, although I'll eat it if it's served to me, it is not something I go out of my way to eat.

But I will state it again: ONLY eat pufferfish that has been prepared by a professional in Japan. Otherwise, DO NOT.

[lunarsilkscreen]

Complex autonomous networking and ecosystems.

I'll formally introduce the term I coined a few posts ago about "Unaccountable autonomous Networking and Applications" in the past; the reason being is that somebody decided to...

Name a "Dow Clone" called "The Dao" sometimes also "The Dow" on top of Ethereum and smart contract tech; and then everybody forgot what it was called despite using it very frequently.

And despite it being very banal use of tech.

Because, seemingly, nobody seems to understand how technology works; We must start from the combined understanding that everyone; affluent or not; higher education or not; can in-fact pickup programming.

And because of this there are only two technology positions actually open; [new gal] and [old guy]

Because all our New Guys became trans women and floundered up the DEI process by filling all these jobs with a seemingly endless supply of queer-folk.

So I hate to tell you this; Technology is a very Queer Dominated career field. Because they couldn't get jobs elsewhere.

And they were all really good at the thing nobody knows how to do.

And today; we have idiots from all levels of management and government; trying to make taskers where they don't have trust employee voting tactics (or even other managers and employees)

Creating the previous term "DAO " for "Decentralized autonomous organization"

Which likely costs a *lot* of energy to perform what's effectively "American IDOL" voting from the comfort of your own sofa, knowing full well that nobody can hack you without your permission!

Automated Contracts are like Legal Contracts, in that they are legally obligated (automatically obligated at that! With no approval!) to do the thing they were tasked with doing.

Or you know; replacing traffic courts. Which were all gonna cede the fine even when we know we're right because who has time for that anyway?

The big difference and problem between the two is "Legally" mandated and "Automatically Mandated" legally mandated means it is backed by the legal system; which has approval authority. And "automatically mandated" introduced it's [approval] to every individual user specifically.

Who then has the responsibility of proving something didn't happen correctly. And could wind up in a costly mistake.

Which means that if a legal mistake were to occur; there's no measures to say that an action was meant to be ratified or enacted.

And that is all further cost overhead for the internet as a whole across the planet.

And all the work we put into our legal system will still need to be used on the backend after all that "I don't trust anyone" B's that will definitely get your Guild's Free Loot box raided by opportunists...

[curseofkolyana]

I am a career labor organizer, which means I work for a federation of unions. I help with member recruitment and retention as part of my job, and I had a successful conversation recently that sort of exemplifies my feelings on community building.

I had been talking to a man who was not a union member for about 20 minutes on the phone, getting his story and the information about his job. He had been with the company for 10 years, and his wife had recently been diagnosed with terminal cancer, with less than five years to live. His supervisor was not letting him use PTO to care for his wife, and this employee was expected to work 10 to 15 hours of overtime every week. At one point, the conversation goes like this:

Me: So, will you join your union?

Him: I was a member, but I don't agree with their politics anymore.

Me: Can you tell me more?

Him: They started supporting all these... woke initiatives. They have this whole thing around pronouns [about 2 minutes of confused rambling about pronouns. Not vitriolically hateful. Just. Really confused and angry.]. I don't get it. I don't like it. I don't want to be a part of it.

Me: Oof. Ow. I thought we were having a pretty productive conversation, but I'm one of those people who uses they/them pronouns that you were talking about. It hurts to hear that you don't think that pronouns are an issue your union should focus on, but we aren't here to talk about me today. I want to talk about you.

Him: Yeah, but--.

Me: Did you know that your union is currently fighting an unfair labor practice against the denial of your contract-protected PTO? Because lots of people are having a similar problem.

Him: I didn't.

Me: And did you know that the other union members in your department are writing a formal letter of complaint to the administration about your supervisor?

Him: I didn't.

Me: Your union is not going to stand for your rights as a worker being taken away, and they can't do it unless everyone is involved. I heard you say that you don't want to be involved with this "pronoun stuff," but I also heard you say that you want to sped time with your dying wife. Are other people's pronouns really more important to you than being able to spend time with your family?

Him: *silence for about a minute* No, it's not. It's not more important.

Me: That's what I thought. You deserve to be able to spend that time with your wife. You deserve your PTO and to have a fulfilling life outside of your work. Your coworkers are going to stand up for you. Are you going to stand with them?

He didn't join on the phone that day, but he started going to union meetings. He started talking to his coworkers. I don't know how he feels about trans people. I don't care. I want him to spend time with his wife before she is gone. I want him to have a full life. And I like to think that I moved the needle just a bit on getting him to change his mind about my community, too.

[olderthannetfic]

The entire "following grammar rules is XX-ism" and "telling someone not to write with a dialect" or whatever in official settings, school, government paperwork, etc, has always been a weird argument.

I live in a country where you're encouraged to speak in your local dialect no matter how official the situation is. This includes politicians and professors. This means every dialect no matter how heavy and obscure it is is just as valid as any other. It was even encouraged to speak your dialect during presentations because it would be more authentic.

While it does allow for a lot of individuality it's also incredibly hard to understand in a lot of situations, especially when going somewhere with a different local dialect. And that's the spoken language.

The area I live has a very strong dialect which often is used in informal writing, between friends as an example, if you're not familiar with it you won't be able to understand anything because of the phonetic writing, which has almost nothing in common with how the words get written when you follow the correct grammar and spelling for the language. In school our teacher gave us a few examples once, where an article had been "translated" into different dialects to show how it would look if the rules for spoken language was applied to written. I still have a headache thinking about it.

I think the people using these arguments have just never been in a situation where they had to engage with a dialect or written form they didn't understand, especially official documents, otherwise they'd understand WHY having rules are in place. It's great for individuality and and informal settings, but you'll turn right the Hell around when someone with an incomprehensible written-dialect starts doing your taxes, or writing your contracts.

--

I think a lot of people who hotly defend their own dialect and linguistic diversity in general are in favor of having certain main standards for things like academic papers.

Attempting to eradicate "AAVE is grammar mistakes hur hur"-style racism/classism and encouraging people to code switch for certain formal environments can and do coexist just fine.

In my experience, the people who most defend the idea that standards are -ism are not the people coming from some non-prestige dialect community. It's all theoretical.

[pendwelling]

hello!! Thank u for your beautiful and enjoyable content 😘😘 I wanna ask you about some stuff I didn't quite get reading the novel

So when they say that Chris and ced sharing soul does mean it's that same as religious companions just like Aurelie and Frederick? there's no difference?

Also is this the reason why ced doesn't seem to need yuseo ether like he used to ? because his plate problem got resolved with this ? Cause I noticed he no longer crazy about yuseo ether anymore

Also if yuseo become ced religious companion he can't give his ether to anyone anymore like Chris or Johann.doesnt that make it highly unlikely that they become companions?

Least I'm just curious about your favourite ship 😂😂I know u ship all three together but there must one that u like most ☺️ I'm curious!!!! 😉

Thank you 😊

Hello!! I'm happy you like my work, it means a lot TYSM!! 🥹🫶🫶

(Also sorry in advance for my long response, I am unfortunately a Certified TWSB Yapper WJKJGGH)

Regarding Cédric and Ga-in! In a way, what happens between them is somewhat similar to a Covenant/Holy Contract (as translated by EN Webtoon) like what we've seen between pairings like Frédérique and Aurélie, as well as with Marielle and Antoinette. To recap, when individuals enter a Holy Contract, they swear to join their souls together, and as such the Priest and Patron Saint in such a relationship can no longer share their ether with someone who isn't the Master of their Covenant. Their Vessels/Plates(or "Bowls", via EN Webtoon) also become shared, so the ether between the individuals also becomes shared. Oh and despite the restrictions of the Contract, the Priest can still open healing circles, but other than that, the only person who can benefit from the replenishing of their ether is their partner.

SO!! How does this compare to Cédric and Ga-in?

What Ced and Ga-in have is definitely similar to a Holy Contract, but without any of the "official" formalities that come with it. They don't swear before God and they are both Holy Knights too, so there aren't any ether-exchange restrictions like what would happen between a Priest and Holy Knight, but what IS similar is that they share parts of their Plates together. The power of water from Ga-in's Plate was what ultimately helped seal the cracks in Cédric's Plate, and part of Cédric's in Ga-in is what helped regulate her eventual ether Runaway. Because of this fusion and contact, they essentially become soul mates (literally). They can feel each other's strong emotions through their bond, much like Holy Contract partners can, and have a somewhat tele/empathetic liaison between them—but they aren't solely dependent on each other, unlike how it would have been between a Priest and Holy Knight.

As to where Yeseo comes into all this, since both Cédric and Ga-in are both Holy Knights, they will still require ether like any other Holy Knight—the fusing of their Plates merely helped regulate the respective troubles they were going through, and doesn't necessarily resolve the innate yearning nature and life requirement of ether (though, Cédric is able to survive purely by relying on his divine item the Sword of Mars + a huge amount of stubbornness. Unlike Ga-in, Cédric does not allow any unfamiliar Priest to attend to him... He's Loyal hahaha). So if Yeseo were to form a Holy Contract with Cédric, it would definitely work in Ced's favour (since Yeseo was the only ever option in the first place), but there's ALSO a chance that this Contract would extend to Ga-in, as well. It's hard to say, as the Contract hasn't actually been formalized in the main story, but since Cédric and Ga-in have a link through their Plates, Cédric and Yeseo joining theirs together might possibly affect/extend to Ga-in in some way. But who's to say! We might have to wait for the side stories if ever Sookym wishes to elaborate on this, though the main story imo already gives us plenty to go off on about how such a relationship might turn out. (But personally), I very much wish for the triple soul bond to be the case. And again, as the future Emperor, Cédric is going to have to pick a Religious Companion as per tradition, and the man himself has firmly affirmed that there is no other option other than Yeseo (the man would rather go on a hunger strike than pick someone else LMAO). Sir Johann in this case would then have to rely on other priests for ether, but I am certain his kind and talented future daughter-in-law Eva can help in the meantime! He'll also be much more kinder to Priest Sand this time around too xDD (unless he wants to incur the wrath of Yeseo again tsk tsk, you silver fox...)

Oh and as for Cédric being less crazy about Yeseo's ether—that's partly due to his own character development haha! Though I wouldn't say he's any less crazy, it more so that he becomes more assured/less desperate about it. As both he and Christelle grow closer to Yeseo, they eventually also learn to be more respectful of when and how to request ether from him. Cédric in particular doesn't forcefully siphon Yeseo anymore wkdhjdkd, and Yeseo, too, naturally becomes attuned to the needs of his Holy Knight friends and even provides ether without them having to ask. It's practically instinct at some point xD

AND OIUGGHHDHHHHHH. HERE IT IS!! THE BIG SHIPPING QUESTION.

I am, through and through, a CedYesChris shipper 🛐 I'm not sure if I have a favourite duo dynamic within them because... well. The three of them together is just better! After all, why have a duo when you can have a trio? They complement each other to perfection, as individuals who are friends AND as religious/political figures and partners, too. After reading the entire novel, it's impossible for me to imagine them without the entirety of CYC together. Though I will admit, I do tend to focus on making more CedYes-centric art/fics (since that's the most popular and understandable/accessible ship for early-TWSB readers, and was also my first ship too haha), but ChrisCed—different dynamic than CeChri, but I also enjoy that too—has actually (suprisingly)(or maybe not so surprising, I suppose) very unironically become a favourite of mine 😂 It first started as a joke/dysfunctional crack ship because of Yeseo's delulu shipping lenses, but truthfully, the more you read and understand the novel and their relationship progression (especially in relation towards Yeseo) the more you realize that these two actually work SO well together, and are very interested in each other, too, even though they fight a lot. (Also, fun fact, Cédric and Ga-in are both really intrigued by the other's ether. Had they the choice, they actually would have picked the other's ether attribute which is rlly interesting to me). It's easy to understand how they might have been the original main couple in a RoFan story.

But anyhow, Yeseo was actually right about shipping them even after being affected by his transmigration interference, just...... not in the way he initially sees it LMAOOO.

ChriCed are not the sweet and soft type partners. They're the type of partners who challenge each other and would not hesitate to fight or oppose when the other is wrong, and though it might seem aggressive and even hateful, this all comes from a place of deep understanding, and mutual trust and respect. Hypothetically, if they were to kiss, they would probably(absolutely) be aggressive and competitive about it LMAO. (WHICH IS WHY THEY WORK BEST WHEN IN A TRIO WITH YESEO! Yeseo is someone who is incredibly precious to both Cédric and Ga-in. The idea of hurting him is just too much, and as Holy Knights who share Plates, ChriCed would share the desire of wanting to treat him preciously, and as a Priest, Yeseo also wouldn't be able to handle the full brunt of the aggression of Holy Knights anyway. Therefore, ChriCed, as individuals who would understand their respective instincts, who be able to redirect their more aggressive desires on each other. It's a trio with a convenient balance hahahahajsjhhfjkd)

But anyway, outside of CYC, I am also fan of LosYes, especially because og!Jesse's sly and charming personality goes well with the devotion and adoration he has for Yeseo. I'm also a BIGGGGGGG enjoyer of JibYes. A small part of me thinks I might actually like JibYes more than CedYes LMAO. Sorry Cédric...... your 2nd cousin just has such an entertaining cat-and-dog/nice-guy-who-hates-only-me relationship with Yeseo. It's so Class Delinquent x Model Student.... They're so fun together and Yeseo's wittiness, stubbornness, and more aggressive side truly shines when he's with Jibril. I like seeing the gentle and caring Jung Yeseo who cares deeply about others get feisty and riled up by a troublemaking(but honourable deep down) guy like Jibril. And simultaneously, Jibril Diop, this loutish playboy of a guy, somehow becomes subdued and helpless to Yeseo's whims and charms. THEYRE SO GODDAMN CUTE HGGHNNNGGHH..... Truly a well-crafted relationship progression that starts with animosity before shifting into respect and admiration 🥹 It's a shame tho, because a lot of the newer readers don't know him since he only actively becomes part of the main cast somewhere around/past the mid-300s, BUT HES TRULY THE BEST 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 CYC is still the biggest in my heart tho, but JibYes is a very very very close second hahaha. I wrote a 36.7k one-shot fic because of these two. That's how deep in the JibYes sauce I am. I await the day more eng/intl readers get to the part in the novel where he's introduced, because he's an unexpectedly very very great guy and character 🥹

ANYWAYS HAHA. THIS WAS A LONG RESPONSE WLWLKWLWJDKD I hope I was able to clear up any questions you had!!

[noah-moth-cursed-chaos]

The Brotherhood's newest recruit was. Annoyingly sociable. A chatterbox really, it baffled Arnbjorn to no end, to his knowledge, argonians preferred fewer words and told most things in body language, yet Zane never. Fucking. Shut. His mouth.

Astrid said she saw something in him. As did Nazir and Veez.

Arnbjorn just saw an annoyance.

"What did you think you'd do when you were young?"

Arnbjorn looked over at the man standing next to him, watching him.

"... What?"

"I'm curious, I mean, I know children don't typically dream of being assassins."

Arnbjorn stared at Zane like he had two heads, what made him think that they were close enough for Arnbjorn to speak about his childhood?

"... I wanted to be a linguist." Apparently the silence wasn't as off putting as he'd wanted. "I love language, it fascinates me. The way different people choose to communicate, ideas only present in one language or another, formalities and grammar and the way it all intersects with tone and body language."

Arnbjorn looked at him for a minute. He'd seen Zane's writing, a code of his own design, incorporated about five or six different languages and alphabets, some Arnbjorn had never seen.

It wasn't like he didn't have the skills.

Arnbjorn questioned how valuable linguistics were to argonians. Or if Zane would be listened to anywhere outside the Marsh.

"But, well. Dad was a thief. And when he died... Bellies needed to be filled, so I followed in his footsteps. And it lead me here."

"... You had siblings?"

"One, Tanasi. I miss him dearly. We had to part ways when we left the marsh, hopefully he's somewhere safe in Cyrodil." Zane's tone had... The slightest tinge of sadness, "Far from me, he was always a wonderful craftsman, hopefully he's left our old life behind and begun using those skills."

"You act like you're the thing that was fucking things up for him." Arnbjorn scoffed.

"A better brother would have been able to provide without leading the both of us into a life of crime." Zane stated, as if that were a simple fact, and not likely far more complicated.

"How old were you anyway?"

"... I was 14. Tanasi was 13."

"... What fucking choice does a 14 year old have? By the nine, cut yourself a bit of slack." Arnbjorn shook his head, "... I wanted to be a guard."

Zane was... Trying not to laugh.

"Hey! You asked alright! The companions were the closest I could get. But. Well. I've got a vengeful streak, and some bastards skimped us on pay." He looked over at Zane, "So, what drew you to the companions? You don't seem the heroic sort. And I can't say I know many other places you'd contract lycanthropy and live to tell the tale."

"The fact that you think I can't hold my own against a werewolf is insulting." Zane said, before pausing, "It was... Well it seemed right. I was in a new country, surrounded by new people. I was one of the people there when that dragon by Whiterun was killed, and the dragonborn absorbed the soul and all. He didn't want to stick around, but there were things to be done, and he trusted them to me for some reason. I suppose I was trying to prove I could fill those shoes." He shrugged, "The whole righteous schtick just didn't suit me. I killed some werewolf hunters though."

"You know the dragonborn?"

"Short khajiit, calico markings, big eyes." Zane said, "Last I heard he became the archmage."

"Divine shit, you do know the dragonborn."

"The imperials were trying to kill us both when Helgen got attacked. We escaped together."

"What'd you do to piss off the imperials?" Now Arnbjorn was actually starting to get curious. Dammit. The new guy was growing on him.

"Walked across the border. Ji'Ren was on the way out, but offered to turn back to show me somewhere I could stay, we walked over the border together just when they ambushed." Zane explained, "They smacked him over the head so hard I was worried he might not wake up at first."

"I still dunno how I feel about having you as a brother, but I will admit you live a damn interesting life."

Now it was Zane's turn to laugh, "I just go where life takes me, it tends to direct me down a lot of interesting side roads."

"Like becoming an assassin?"

"It has been interesting."

"Well, just make sure you're good at it. I'm gonna need more stories and I can't get them if you're dead."