#cause i think it would look nice!! and its an incentive to work more on CD as well if i can actually organize the doc into sections

[spearxwind]

Hi hello I have two questions for yall

does anyone here know decent book editing software that isnt indesign because i cant afford indesign and its a little incomprehensible (pretty much I'm looking how I can edit a book with spread pages and images) nothing insanely fancy, I am just looking to turn one of my big lore google docs into something nice and art-book looking I wanna be able to do something like this, for example

what I am looking to do is basically turn my challenger deep lore doc into an actual lore book so I will hopefully do some illustrations for it down the line for each section of it. so the next question is then:

would any of you be interested in purchasing that? it would be digital (unless there's an insane amount of interest for physical editions, in which case I will consider it)

[aroseyetbloomedwrites]

For another question posed in a server I get to be a part of, I wanted to write about it here, as well. Incoming wall of text.

What does your characters daily routine look like, and consist of?

Francel has a little (a lot) of trouble sleeping. Is he up early? Or, did he go to sleep late? He can, safely, be visited at odd hours. The crushing weight of serving a higher cause now, the need to do his very best, the, well--responsibility you would think would have translated well from his tenable position at Skyfire Locks, where even lives had been at stake. Something is different. Whatever it is, it keeps him up..

3AM to 5AM: He is usually awake between these times, perhaps he awoke suddenly, or in measures, it varies some days. The staff, due to the eccentricities of the family, namely the also odd working hours of the eldest brother, may also have interesting start times, and those which keep to Francel; see Foncrineau, will usually also be at the ready, since his election and subsequent or current occupation. He will start with coffee in his room or standing at a counter in the kitchens, and a croissant with some clotted cream or cheese and jam most like. And, if no one requires him immediately, and he has indeed awoken early enough, will make a special trip outside the City Proper to visit a certain someone. This may take a few hours, so he may not, depending on when he starts, be always at the manor necessarily during this start times. Interesting enough, one would think he would have an office in the manor, but his room has proven big enough to house a desk by the arched window, and a sitting area by the fire, so I imagine this is where he works the most, it allows him to, should he awaken exceptionally early, to roll to work after splashing his face and freshening up if the matter is urgent, or unfinished from the evening prior.

In the Late Morning: he likes to visit the Jeweled Crozier, to hear about its ups and downs and concerns from Elaisse, which may translate into the Firmament's own markets, at the two must work together and not wholly independent of each other. It gives him the chance to socialize, as well. And he will stop by the Firmament then too, to visit those present and working to hear their concerns, their wants, their dreams, and desires, as he is working to make them come true for all. He likes to stop by newly opened and operating bakeries for stuffed breads and pastries. He has a sweet tooth, even in the morning, and another pressed cup of coffee, these ones really hit the spot, con panna's, or triple creme's, sweet latte's, rather than the quick cups he has to start himself off with.

Noon Time or So: he should have returned to the manor, this is a more reasonable time to be with the Count and Countess. He can sit down with them for another cup of coffee, or two, and they will have a light luncheon. I think Baurendouin feels listless to a degree after handing over the Skysteel Manufactory to Stephanivien, so maybe it is nice to get the run down on the Firmament from Francel... he feels involved and included in the loop and I think has valuable insight which Francel needs. THIS-- it also is a good time to spend with momma. Francel bakes with her often, and together they make their favorites; honey castella, or little honey cakes which he had learned from her as a lad.

Late Afternoon: this may be used for a power nap on his room sofa if he is not drawn away, immediately follows up with... more coffee... and then he begins to work diligently by his window. Sometimes a little opened to be refreshed by the cold air which will keep him alert. I think he's interested in blueprints and building design. So I feel like he may always be drafting something he wants to build which may be of use to the masses, and submitting those for consideration. And, I think he likes to handle a lot of budget himself, so he may constantly be crunching numbers. (Balancing those proper tax incentives!!) Also! Planning those fun fetes and games and gift allotment!

Evening. 5PM-ish?: Supper. Sometimes it is formal, sometimes it is not... definitely dessert he made with momma though.

Late Evening. 9PM-Midnight: He may wallow in bed, but I do feel like he waffles between laying in bed, and working at his desk...

On days, and around people and his House, of which he is expected NOT to work-he will spend a morning, sometimes listening to a sermon at the cathedral (and he will from time to time, sneak this into his daily as well if possible). And he will sometimes like to visit as the sun sets, when others aren't around, to say a prayer. And he practices an instrument weekly on free-er evenings as well. His favorite to play is the piano, but he also enjoys cello, and is going about learning violin, and the keyed flute.

[nahalism]

What do you think of therapy, personally? If you are comfortable w answering: did you ever have one yourself and how was the experience of it? x

(sorry in advance cause this will be long)

cool so, i was made to go for the first time at around 12/13, and the experience was damaging. so every other time they tried to get me to talk to someone, go to school counselling or seek help not only did i not trust the therapist, i literally wouldnt speak or would try flip the questions on them. HOWEVER, since september 2022 - this march/april i went to a therapist voluntarily just to see if i was wrong, if i could make quicker progress with someones help, or if by having a non biased person to soundboard my thoughts against id find it helpful. heres what i found (:

what i liked:

- i wanted a therapist because i wanted a second opinion. i was around ppl making me think i was some kind of villain or person that i didnt feel i was, and so instead of cutting people out & spiralling or forgiving & overcompensating like i have a tendency to do, i went to someone unbiased to g check me. my therapist did end up giving me that assurance that i wasnt crazy, but also helped me recognise how much i doubt myself, accept bare minimum, or talk myself out of what i feel/want to accommodate/enable others. i knew i had those patterns, but i didnt know to what extent, so for people being gaslit or for those who are prone to abusers / having a warped sense of reality, therapists can really offer that objective, external reassurance that grounds you back into reality without you having to survive a nervous breakdown.

- going also checked my arrogance in thinking i was my one and only saviour. practicing leaning on someone other than me was cool and it was nice to see what that can look like. it also affirmed that i know how to communicate and share (something people at the time were trying to convince me i am not capable of doing)

what i liked less:

- a therapist is not your friend or a replacement for friendship. there were times my therapist would say shit like 'if you ever need someone to talk to im always available' cause i didnt have anyone to talk to. & dont get me wrong, it was super sweet! but .. ultimately, if there was no financial incentive that wouldnt be the case. so i feel like someone more vulnerable or less clued in than me would have heard that and got drawn in, when no matter how cool your therapist is, ultimately the relationship is a business transaction.

- from a spiritual perspective, i feel like therapists know what to tell you according to logic and science, but very few therapists are skilled healers. i dont want to go to someone who helps me rationalise what i think and feel so i can show up as a productive member of this society we live in. i want someone who challenges me to see the truth where id rather buy into soft illusions, and as such helps me show up as an authentic, elevated, expression of me. there were times i was in a session being told something that applied and was smart, but i could tell the therapist didnt even embody that themselves & forgive me for being judgemental, but because they didnt embody it, they couldnt fully understand the consequence of being about the shit they talk about. in that circumstance id rather find an elder whos embodied the lessons their trying to pass on, than someone who only feels comfortable telling me to do what society, their parents, or modern science has understood and approved. sometimes the answer thats right for you isnt a path someone can encourage you toward, you have to find it for yourself. and sometimes, the answer isnt 'self love', 'self work', or gaining a sense of individuality, which is what therapy usually points people toward. sometimes its being in nature, quitting your job, giving service to community, service to nature, service to strangers. healing can mean going off of the beaten oath and therapy doesnt always advocate for that.

- 2 be blunt as fuck, there were times i was simply spending £50 to chat to someone for an hour which is why i no longer go. :/. i personally wanted a therapist so i could gain !!strategies!! that would help me with actually asserting boundaries, & dealing with people who try to violate, in a healthy way. instead i felt like i got an hour session of me talking. maybe that works for some people, but personally i didnt need someone to talk to, vent to, confide in... so it just felt like picking scabs off of closed wounds, whilst someone nods and empathises, but cant give any real indication of how i can change my circumstances or show up differently. then after an hour of bringing up shit you've given me no indication of how to fix, i have to go back into the environment that caused the stress and try not to be triggered or pop off on people. long dayyy

sooo thats how i feel. bare in mind, i am me and i sought out therapy for very specific reasons that may not be your reasons. if you need therapy and thats your path, you need to do whats right for you. however for my needs and where im at right now, i dont feel the need for a therapist. if i came out of processing some heavy shit or was in a place where i needed help or an unbiased voice to check me or reassure me i wouldnt write it off. however i just feel like people need to be self willed and self governed in this life, & the more we tap into what we feel & follow what feels good, the more we know, understand & can walk in wisdomm

hope this wasnt offputtingly long <3 blessings

[nekotashioh-priv]

Week 1 - Never Again 9066

As a creative, what is your relationship with social movements? There are no right or wrong answers, tell us about your past, present, and where you might like to be in the future.

I think I’ve always had interest in social movements and issues. I think I’m fairly vocal, and try to speak up about things when I feel strongly (and feel I’m adequately knowledgeable) about them. I also try to stay updated and keep myself informed, although it can be difficult sometimes with all the heavy news that often bombards the headlines.

I believe my parents encouraged me to be this way. My house was always filled with news on the radio, and growing up I would occasionally skim the newspapers after my parents were finished with them. My parents, especially my mother, never tried to hide “sensitive” topics from me when I was young, and discussed them with and around me openly.

As a creative, though, I don’t think I’ve had much experience in using my art for social movements. During the height of the 2020 Black Lives Matter protests and activism, I was inspired by other artists on social media to open donation commissions—offering “free” commissions/drawing requests as an incentive for people to donate to organizations supporting the cause. I was only able to get 2 people to donate, but I was glad to be able to encourage someone else to participate, even on that small scale.

In the future, I want to explore more and better ways to use my art positively and productively, and not just as something that’s nice to look at (although I do want my work to be visually appealing to people). This is also why I’ll probably go into the Designmatters minor!

What are the consequences of framing anti-Asian violence as "hate"?

As stated in “The ‘Asian exception’ and the Scramble for Legibility,” it minimizes violence as something momentary and out of the ordinary and masks its history. It also insinuates that actions of anti-Asian violence are simply due to an individual’s personal beliefs, and not something systemic or societally embedded. It can also direct activists to call for intensifying existing systems (ex. policing, prosecution, surveillance) that often do more harm than good, especially to communities that face persecution by those systems.

[savingthrcw]

Kindly folks. A little flash of disgust on Janey's face, because she had been accused of that before, and sure, in this case it was somewhat sarcastic, he didn't believe they'd do it out of kindness, but enough people had eventually come to think that she had such inclination and it was distressing. The last thing she needed was people expecting her to be a decent person instead of just having little human lapses.

"I'm sure it had nothin' to do with y'all having a sudden pressin' need for a newtracker. I'll give you this much though, sweetheart, you at least know how to pretend to ask nicely."

"Please. Look at me, cowboy," she opened her arms then dropped, with just about the same enthusiasm she put into her words, "I'm an old raider." Well, old was a big word for someone who hadn't touched 35 yet. But in raider's years? "I'm still here because I plan and I prepare. Then I overprepare. You'd be when the 'over' bit starts. Which is what lets me be so 'nice' about it." No need for begging or threatening, just two grown folks discussing business. In the years she had found some got disoriented by that, but others jumped in. Especially other raiders who had never stopped for a second to attempt thinking. Right, the job. "Here's the deal. Apparently a scientist stole from the Enclave and ran with his dog." Just this time, just for a moment, there was a twitch on her lips that resembled a smile instead of her permanent deadpan expression, at the thought of someone actually fucking with the Enclave from inside. And leaving with a dog, at that. "The Enclave got its panties in a twist, and offered a thousand caps to bring him back. But we both know they ain't gonna give that to ya. 'Cause you are a ghoul, and people are stupid about that. They'll want someone in a shiny armor to do it. Who'll really pay a lot is a friend of mine, if I bring the scientist to them. If you are with me, it's a job worth 500 caps for you alone. You are free to go and check if anyone is offering more. But..." She took a few steps to the side to look at him better, or more specifically which sort of weapon he had. "If it's true that you are as good as they say, I'll throw in an extra 200. Not because I'm kind-hearted," she hadn't let go of that one yet, "But because that's what I call an investment. Paying skilled people the right amount instead of fucking them up... usually means they'll come back to work with me later. So take this as an incentive not to shoot me in the back whether you wanna do it or not, I'm worth more caps alive, 'cause they can keep coming and you never know when you may need a job." She had to offer beforehand that sort of incentive, because that was what had kickstarted several, surprisingly civilized, joined efforts with people who normally would have literally tried to eat her after the job. Even raiders could cooperate sometimes, with the idea that they'd get their pockets full again in the future. Some got stupid later anyway, and got disposed of. She agreed with that logic: she wouldn't make deals with Dom Pedro, for one, but she wouldn't rush to kill a stranger who may keep their word on it, there was always time for that later, if they were lying. Then, of course, there were those trying to make her deal in slavery, and whether they acted civilized or not they got shot in the face. She did have standards. "Pitch over. I won't lie, the fact that Dom Pedro will shit his pants knowing you're out and about? Makes me feel aaaall warm and fuzzy. It's good reason to try you first." She wished she could see his dickface when he found out, but she'd have to just imagine it.

Cooper's eyes snapped open; in the suffocating darkness of the coffin, of course, there was nothing to see, but he stared hard up at the source of the sound nonetheless. It was quiet, muffled, but unmistakable.

Someone was digging.

How long had it been? It felt like he'd been down here in this cramped iron prison for a fucking eternity, like a broken doll stuffed back into its box and forgotten about. Was Dom Pedro back for another round?

This was his chance. All he needed was a few seconds, a clean shot for his rope. He didn't know what was waiting for him aboveground, but it was a safe bet that he'd be fighting for his life once that coffin door opened, and the rush of anger-infused adrenaline almost drowned out the pain from his twisted limbs, the horrible burn in his chest from each rattling wheeze for air that just never quite seemed to fill his lungs.

Come on, come on, oh god please hurry up and get me the fuck out of here -

THUNK.

They'd hit the coffin. Shit, this was really happening. This was it. Freedom.

Fresh fucking air.

Cooper felt his face twist into a desperate snarl as he tried to weakly wriggle his busted arm below his head towards his rope. It was no good, of course. Fuck it. He'd just have to come out as he was, and hope his regenerative abilities kicked in once he was less of a pretzel. Hope that Dom Pedro was in a chatty mood and not a prisoner-maiming one.

After what felt like a frustratingly long time, the scraping and dull thunking sounds finally stopped. He felt the coffin get hoisted up, up, up into the air, and then it was being slowly rotated to stand him upright.

Cooper closed his eyes, shoved the fear down, and smiled.

One way or another, he was gonna walk free today, and whoever just dug him up was going to regret it.

There was a heavy rattling of chains; at last, the coffin door swung open, leaving him coughing and gasping for breath like a swimmer who'd just spent too long underwater. It took some effort to pull himself free from the cold dark prison where his mangled body had been so ungraciously stuffed, but he managed to lurch his way out and double over, groaning as his body rearranged itself with a series of sickening cracks. Shit, that always hurt like a son of a bitch.

And of course, there was an audience pointing guns at him while he caught his breath and got reacquainted with existence outside of his coffin. Wonderful.

"Guns down, he's fine."

...By fine, he supposed the woman meant not a slavering feral.

Well, at least he now knew which of these strangers was the one giving orders.

Like a group of mongooses flinching back from a snake in a hole, the men who'd just opened his coffin hastily lowered their weapons and retreated, never once taking their eyes off him.

Guess it was showtime, then.

Slowly, with the unhurried self-assurance of a yao guai finally choosing to emerge from hibernation, The Ghoul straightened up to his full height. One boot stepped away from the open grave and onto the grass, followed by the other. A gnarled hand flexed, as narrowed sunken blue eyes swept the graveyard. Counting the heads, calculating the trajectories, appraising the threats.

...Just three, huh?

He could take three. No problem.

"Hey. I'm not with Dom Pedro."

At the woman's words, The Ghoul slowly tilted his head to one side, silent and evaluating.

Oh, you talkin' to little old me now?

Yeah, no shit she wasn't one of Dom Pedro's.

Pedro would've known better than to dig him up without at least triple the men to point guns at him.

"I'm gonna get straight to the point. I'm getting you out of there for two reasons: one, I hate that fucker and I want him to suffer. Two, coffins are for the dead."

Taking the good-cop approach right out of the gate, huh? Well, that sure was a choice. Not the default one, though, going by the minigun over her shoulder and the big pistol holstered on her hip.

...Was she trying to imply she could put him back to rest in that coffin in the proper way, if he wasn't feeling grateful enough for the unsolicited rescue?

The Ghoul's head took a tilt to the other side; a swaying cobra, sizing up his target, contemplating whether or not to strike.

His realigned joints ached something fucking fierce. The throbbing in his temples, the gnawing emptiness in his stomach and the dry burn in his throat was almost maddening. All he wanted was a long drink, a massive Brahmin steak and a comfy surface to pass out on after he took a shitload of chems.

He'd settle for just shooting some heads open and taking whatever shit these idiots had in their pockets, though. Whatever they'd come here looking for, they weren't gonna be getting it from him. He was in no mood to go from one man's kennel to this woman's leash.

"That said, I've been told you are the best tracker we can find on this side of the Wasteland, so if you are interested I've got a job worth a lot of caps."

The Ghoul's lips started to curl into a knowing little scoff. Yep, there it was. The only surprise was that she was bothering to frame it like an offer and not an order.

Maybe she just knew she didn't have the firepower right now to play the bad-cop angle. That minigun would take a good few seconds to spin up, after all, and he was pretty confident he was a faster draw than her.

"If you are not interested, good-fucking-bye, good luck and I hope you kill that son of a bitch."

There was a flicker of something across The Ghoul's marred face; a blend of faintly perplexed surprise, amusement, and appraisal. The expression disappeared almost as swiftly as it appeared, like a stone sinking into the deep.

"...Well, now, ain't that a pretty little pitch."

The Ghoul's voice was a low rasping drawl edged with a lightly sardonic nonchalance, that belied the flatly evaluating way he was looking at the head honcho stranger now. Not a fan of Dom Pedro's, huh? Was she hoping he'd go kill the bastard for her? Well, he was admittedly feeling pretty murderously inclined towards the man right now.

But it sounded like there was more to it than that.

"Y'all must be some real kindly folks, diggin' up an old wrinkly like me just to right another man's wrong."

Slow, prowling steps forwards and angling to the side. If things went south, he sure as fuck wouldn't be the one ending up in that coffin.

" I'm sure it had nothin' to do with y'all having a sudden pressin' need for a new tracker. I'll give you this much though, sweetheart," he tacked on casually, as he shifted step by innocuous step into a more tactical position, "You at least know how to pretend to ask nicely."

He didn't know these people, they sure seemed to know about him. No one went to all the effort of traipsing onto Dom Pedro's turf and digging up the biggest baddest motherfucker they could think of unless they were desperate for a win. By the men's caginess and their minigun-toting leader's calm reasonable act, they weren't exactly used to pitching job offers to someone like him either.

"Can't exactly say if I'm interested in this lucrative job o' yours or not if I ain't got a clue what the job is, though, can I?"

If it sounded solid, there was no reason he couldn't just kill them and go after the bounty himself. Easier than dealing with having to travel with other people, and he wouldn't have to split the payload - or go through the whole inconvenience of them trying to double-cross him and make off with all the caps.

If it sounded like a bust or just plain not worth his time, well, he'd get to test out how serious she was about letting him exercise his right to say no.

@savingthrcw

[genshinlover101]

Is it possible for a ningguang x reader where they are childhood freinds but separated and reunites years later and reader is a servant for one of the tri commisions of Inazuma?

Reuniting with Childhood Friend Ningguang

Character: Ningguang

Warnings: Slight spoilers to the ending of Inazuma Archon quest

A/n: I lowkey had to do research on the Tri-Commissions as well cause I just skipped over this part when they explained it in the story lol oops- I hope I got the concepts about them right?

• Even though your family resided in Inazuma, they sent you to Liyue at the age of six to be raised for political incentive for a foreign exchange program. In Liyue you often were seen as an outcast, as the weirdo kid from Inazuma, but Ningguang saw you differently.

• Even though she’s always been stubborn even as a child she's always paid attention to you. It might’ve been due to being the future Tianquan but you were grateful nonetheless. 

• This caused you to follow Ningguang around everywhere. Adults even made comments that you two were glued to the hip. Ningguang was indifferent about it but it made you happy they saw you like that.

• When you turned 16, you were ordered back to Inazuma as it would soon be closing their borders for all affairs. This would result in you separating from your family for longer than necessary.

• You promised Ningguang you’d come back to her. Before you left you pulled her into an unreciprocated hug and cried a little, she stayed silent and stoic as ever. You convinced yourself her silence was her in denial of you leaving.

You were now 25 and were appointed as a servant of the Yashiro Commission by the Kamisato Clan. Additionally, since the Vision Hunt Decree was abolished, the Yashiro Commission voted to mend its damaged relationship with Liyue. You were the perfect candidate since you already knew the culture and traditions.

When you arrived at Liyue Harbor you noted that everything was the same. Wanmin Restaurant, Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, Bubu Pharmacy, everything was exactly the same. You traveled the stairs of Yujing Terrace to attend your scheduled meeting with your old friend. The Tianquan of Liyue, Ningguang.

She was already standing outside, looking abroad at Liyue Harbor from the railing. She was smoking, odd, she never smoked when you knew her. Now that you put two and two together it would make sense that almost ten years later you were two completely different people.

“Ningguang! It’s me!” You called out to her, looking in your direction she was unfazed. You rushed and took a position beside her and looked out over Liyue harbor as well. She developed well within the past ten years, not just physically but the aura around her was more intimidating. 

“How have you been old friend,” she asked.

“Good, Liyue hasn’t changed a bit. I miss it…” you felt a little nostalgic. “I work for the Tri-Commission now. And I see you’ve officially become the Tianquan.”

“Yes indeed. That’s surprising- even as a child you were always so shy. I wondered how you’d do in Inazuma without me, but it looks like you’re doing fine.”

“Aha- yeah,” you awkwardly rubbed the back of your head. “You know, I missed you. Every day back in Inazuma wasn’t the same. I realized that the time we spent together caused me to rely on you… did you miss me too?” You hesitated, scared to accept any other answer other than yes. She was silent for what felt like hours even if it was just a single moment.

“I did. Your leaving made me realize I took your company for granted.” You thought she didn’t mean what she said. Until you side-eyed her and saw the confident gleam in her eyes turned somber and fragile.

“Ah- that's nice to hear. To be frank I thought you might not miss me and it made me sad to think about.” You wanted to let her know your honest feelings about her in your childhood. All the time you spent in Inazuma pondering who you were made you realize that the feelings you had for Ningguang weren’t as simply platonic but one of romance and yearning.

“I thought that I’d would be fine without you. My biggest regret ended up not relaying to you my true feelings,” she said. You thought out of all the times of vulnerability this would be perfect to confess.

“Ningguang I-“

“I like you,” She finished your sentence. “-Now that I’ve matured more I realize I need to reciprocate your feelings emotionally or I might lose you again for good this time. I feared you might not return and Inazuma might remain oppressive forever. But I remembered your promise to return to me and it was my motivation. Please promise me once more that when you go back to Inazuma you will return to Liyue again. You’ll return to me” She turned her attention to you, her pinky out to initiate the promise.

“I promise that when I back to Inazuma I will return to you.” You linked pinkies with her. Still linked, you touched thumbs and mutually kissed the base joint of your thumb. It was the pinky promise you both would perform in your childhood whenever you made promises. And to think the same childish ritual was what you gambled such an important promise on.

[myhoneststudyblr]

every single student in the world has likely procrastinated at some point - i know i definitely have! sometimes i think it can be quite helpful because means that you don't spend every minute of every day studying... but on the other hand, it can become very hard to beat. there are so many advice posts in the community on this topic but i thought that i would share my own tips! 

disclaimer: everyone studies differently and these are my personal tips. they may not work for you but they can be a good starting point 

What is Procrastination?

i found this little summary of procrastinating on the internet and thought it completely covered everything that i wanted to say on this point:

Procrastination is the habit of delaying an important task, usually by focusing on less urgent, more enjoyable, and easier activities instead. It is different from laziness, which is the unwillingness to act.

Procrastination can restrict your potential and undermine your career. It can also disrupt teamwork, reduce morale, and even lead to depression and job loss. So, it's crucial to take proactive steps to prevent it.

The first step to overcoming procrastination is to recognize that you're doing it. Then, identify the reasons behind your behavior and use appropriate strategies to manage and overcome it.

- How to Stop Procrastinating by Mindtools

so what is learnt from this is that:

procrastination is not being lazy 

it is avoiding tasks by doing other easier tasks

it can have negative effects

you need to proactively take steps to avoid it 

first, recognise the procrastinating then use strategies to break the cycle

Conventional Tips

these are the basic tips that are some of the most well-known strategies for ending procrastination and can be some of the most important steps!

1. get organised. tidy up your desk to study space because there is nothing worse than having to work in a place that is chaotic and mess. collect the information you need for the task, for example, notes you've made or a textbook. 

2. to-do lists are your friend. a lot of people (including me) really struggle with timetables for studying because it can seem really structured and there is no flexibility or real allowance for things that may crop up during the day (your food takes longer to cook, you have to unexpectedly do a task around the house, you get a really bad headache and need to take a break). in my opinion, to-do lists help solve this problem! you can clearly see the tasks that you want to get done for the day but you don't have stressful time constraints. personally, i always use todoist to keep track of everything. to-do lists also make it easier to break tasks down

3. break the task down. one of the biggest cause of procrastination is having a huge task or project ahead of you because it seems really daunting and where on earth are you even going to start? so break it down *completely*. in your to-do list, don't just write ‘german homework’, write down even task that you need to do within it and be specific: for example ‘pg. 11 ex 4a, 4b and 4c’, ‘textbook listening task on pg. 47′ and ‘250-word essay on social media in Germany’. breaking it down makes the tasks seem more attainable and when you’ve done one and you can cross it off your list, it gives you a boost to keep going

4. eliminate distractions. this is a big one. even if you do all of the above, if you are constantly being distracted by things, you aren't going to get much done. try to find a place that is quiet enough that you can focus and you feel comfortable studying in. as well as this you need to think about what to do with your phone as the likelihood is that this will be the most distracting thing. you can simply turn it off, put on do not disturb, leave it in another room or use and app like forest (that last one is what i use and i don't know where i would be without it!)

5. use incentives. finishing a task is an achievement so treat it like one! before you study, decide on something that you will give yourself as a reward for doing it. this may be watching that new episode of your favourite programme or a tasty snack! 

6. set timers. don't just launch yourself into a task, because that again can make it seem daunting and feel unending. rather, set a timer for a specific time because you’ll know that you just need to focus for that specific length of time and then you can go take a break and do something nice. for timing your study sessions, you could use the Pomodoro technique 

7. allow for breaks (but try to avoid long ones). you are not a machine and as much as it would be great to be able to, you cant study for hours on end without giving your mind a break from focusing. so schedule in break time for yourself, particularly for times that you know your motivation dips, and do something nice. but be very careful that you don't accidentally slip back into procrastinating habits and keep breaks short. unless you are very disciplined it is unlikely that an hour-long break will stay just an hour.

8. know how you study but don’t be afraid to mix it up. everyone studies differently and so there are going to be some study methods that work better for some than others. so try to make sure that you are studying smart and that you aren't wasting your own time cause that can be incredibly unmotivating. HOWEVER, if there is anything that I’ve learnt from online school its that doing the same task all the time, every day is mind-numbingly boring and you just want to do anything else. so try to switch up what you are doing. if you usually just type notes from the textbook, maybe try doing it in a mindmap one week, or on flashcards, maybe do some practise questions to keep your mind engaged. 

9. play music. now this one really depends on the person and how you study. some people need absolute silence and that is fine, but others need something to fill the silence or maybe cover up background noise (for example if you live in a busy household). try to pick music however that is not going to distract you - the key tips for this is to pick music without lyrics. this can be classical music, video game music, or general ‘chill’ music (there are so many playlists out there for chill studying music). i personally listen to Francesco Parrino religiously while studying because he does piano covers of pop songs, so i know the songs and enjoy them but there are no lyrics that can distract me 

10. stay hydrated, well-rested and not hungry. this is part of eliminating distractions because if you are thirsty, you are going to be thinking about how you want a drink; if you are tired, you are going to be thinking about how tired you are; if you are hungry, you are going to be thinking about what you want for lunch or whatever. make sure you are hydrated, well-rested and not hungry so you can focus solely on your task or work.

Unconventional Tips

these are some slightly more unusual tips that you might not have seen before but that I've nevertheless found very useful!

1. video yourself or do a timelapse. this is something that I’ve only recently done because i saw a tip on this from someone during my quarantine challenge and thought that it would be cool to do. and it really works! i did it twice once when i was typing notes and a second time when i was handwriting notes and it really made me focus on what is as doing because the video put some pressure on me to look like i was properly studying - i could take a 5-minute break in the middle of my work to mess around with my pen, I just had to keep going so it really forces you to do the work. also watching the video when i was done made me really proud cause i had visual proof of how much i completed!

2. accept that some days you are going to get very little done. this may seem a little bit odd to put on a post that is meant to avoid getting nothing done but it’s actually a very important thing to remember. sometimes you need to take days off because otherwise you are going to burnout and some days you are just not going to be in the right mindset for studying because maybe you are exhausted after a big exam, or you have a headache or you feel unwell. you just need to accept it, draw a line under it, take time for yourself, and resolve yourself to work tomorrow once you feel a bit better. there is no shame in taking time to make sure you stay healthy. if you can, try to get your quickest, easiest task done so you have some sense of accomplishment.

3. ‘churn it out and f**k off’. this was my mum’s motto when she was studying and working in academia. and she recently told it to me when i was getting stressed about all the big tasks during online school. i am a perfectionist and i always want to hand in my very best work, put 100% into everything, but honestly that is impossible. some days you just need to get stuff done and if that isn't your very best then it doesn't matter too much because at least you got it done. and once you get it done you can just forget about it.

4. ask a friend or parent to check up on you. when you are studying by yourself it can be hard to motivate yourself because you know that no ones actually going to check whether you made those votes or did the reading, so ask a friend or someone you live with to check whether you've done the work or get them to read essays. you then get an external reason to study or do your tasks because you need to show them something.

5. rephrase how you think of tasks. when you think that ‘you need to do this task’ or ‘you have to get this done’, a lot of the time this causes unneeded stress and anxiety that is not going to help you at all. also it makes it seem like you are being forced to do something and human beings generally don't act great when they are forced to do something. so try to change your language when thinking about task into one that is more forgiving such as ‘i choose to do this project so that i can go meet my friends tomorrow’ and ‘i choose to read this book now because it will help me in the lecture next week’. this is probably the most difficult strategy on this list and it will take a lot of practice (i am certainly still practising it) but in the long term, it can help you change the way in which you view studying for the better. 

✨✨✨

i hope this was helpful and that these tips will be useful, and perhaps you've discovered some new ones! if anyone has anything to add please feel free to reply or reblog with the advice <3

[nathanxcline]

@patrickxpearson

Patrick could see the effect of his words on the masseuse and while he kept that endearing and charming smile he pulled up on a daily basis – on the inside he was smirking. Who wouldn’t fall for a handsome man with a cute smile and a thick Southern accent? Those three things alone had given him so many things in the past and granted him access to so many spread legs that the personal instructor had lost count. People often said never to mix business with pleasure for it never ended up well – but those fuckers were amateurs. They lacked the proper mind frame to make something like that work. Not that he was currently actively seeking to learn Nathan’s secrets. Those would come in time and if they were something juicy… Alexander would hear about it. If they were just plain secrets that no one truly cared about… no harm done either. Patrick could always use someone close to keep him company. Some entertainment or another set of eyes and ears that would come to him whenever shit hit the fan. It did pay off to be friendly with all the staff. Almost like he was the motherfucking Wicked Witch and everyone working there was nothing more than his little flying apes. It was a cruel comparison but there were times when even those that lacked secrets proved to be useful. For every task, there was the perfect tool after all. “A proper massage?” Patrick glanced over his shoulder as Nathan walked past him, unable to stop his smile from growing after feeling the masseuse’s hand on his shoulder slowly travel down his bulging arm. If there was one thing that Patrick did love was when others worshiped his body. He took a great deal of pride and effort to look the way he did. And he was perfectly conscious that the vast majority of men and women out there would view him as nothing more than a brain-dead himbo. Well – let them. It wasn’t his fault if people were stupid enough to judge a book by its cover. “I can’ remember.” The personal instructor scratched his chin as he kept his gaze on Nathan – the clear invite to lay down on the table implicit in the way the masseuse ran his hand over the surface of the table. “I don’ think I ever had a proper massage.” A little white lie. He had gone to spas with Alexander. He had gotten massages before but that was something no one else needed to be aware of. “Does havin’ a mate rub my shoulders count?” Patrick gave Nathan a little innocent shrug before one of his eyebrows made the most perfect arch as he rose them at the other man’s words. That he was going to have to lose his sweatpants. Why… cheeky little thing.

“Yer’ just sayin’ that ‘cause ye’ want to see me naked, right?” There was a brief pause as Patrick walked closer to the table but kept himself fully in Nathan’s view field. He didn’t want the masseuse to lose the show as he pulled the strings on his sweatpants and pulled them down just enough to show the throbbing veins and a bit of the trimmed light brown pubes crowning his junk. “Ye’ sure have a nice aim. Right on the day, I ain’ wearin’ underwear.” Staff were required to wear jockstraps at all times but Patrick considered those a bit constrictive, choosing to go around commando. Why not give others something to satisfy their appetite while working out? It was a good incentive. “Then again, I do feel more comfortable with my clothes off.” With the sweatpants hanging lower down his waist, Patrick leaned down to remove his shoes and pull his socks off before giving a harsh tug on his own pants, feeling the material slide down his legs as he presented himself completely naked – and maybe just a tad aroused – to the masseuse before him. “Ye’ wan’ me on my stomach or my back?” Not really waiting for a proper response, Patrick climbed onto the table and laid on his stomach, making sure to roll his shoulders back to show off all the muscles on his back and the curve of his ass. “I was never pampered like this, darlin’. Ye’ might reconsider spoilin’ me. What if I can’ get enough after all the wonders I heard from the clients, hun?”

As prepared as Nathan thought he was for this job, even he was surprised by the sheer level of pheromones were in the air here. He'd seen more dick in the past couple of weeks than he'd probably seen in the rest of his life combined. Not that he was complaining or anything. In fact, he was finally starting to settle into the constant state of arousal he found himself in. Everyone was beautiful, everyone was horny, and his day job consisted of rubbing down everyone who came to see him. It was kind of difficult not to almost always be thinking about sex in this place, and not a bit of him was mad about it. His days were much more exciting when he didn't know what position he was going to end up in or whose room he was going to be invited to. It kept him on his toes, something he was sorely missing in his life before. Part of him even thought he might belong here, a proprietor of pleasure.

Nathan whistled softly at Patrick's answer. "I have my work cut out for me then." He always put his best foot forward, or hand in this case, but when it was someone's first massage he wanted to leave them with a good first impression. And when it was someone's first massage from him he wanted to make sure they came back for more. He'd certainly be happy to see more of Patrick here or literally anywhere else in the Haus. When he accused him of just wanting to see him naked, Nathan chuckled. "Maybe a little bit." As his eyes lowered to the teasing glance of what was to come. He hummed, running his eyes back up to Patrick's face. "Oh really? I hadn't noticed." He'd most definitely noticed. It was hard not to notice in those sweatpants. Nathan wished he wasn't wearing the jock strap included in his uniform because he was beginning to get a tad uncomfortable beneath the fabric. Why did it have to be kept so damned warm in these massage rooms?

Completely distracted by the sight of Patrick naked, Nathan didn't even try to answer, simply letting the other man climb on the table however he wished. He was a little disappointed not to see that chest anymore, but the muscles in his back and shoulders were more than enough compensation. "Nonsense. That's what I'm here for." Nathan walked over to grab a bottle of oil, whichever one was closest at hand, and then came back again. "To spoil whoever is on this table." Instead of pouring the oil into his hands, since it was still rather warm, he opened it and squeezed a slow trail along Patrick's spine. "I'm sure I could find the time to give you more." His voice was a bit softer, deeper, settling into that calming atmosphere of the room and sounding a tinge more seductive than before. Nathan laid his hands on Patrick's back just above where it met his perfect ass, and ran them up the length of it to his shoulders. With oil gathered on his hands, he pressed his hands down into muscle as he worked his hands out to the other man's shoulders, using more strength than he would on most men to truly get into the fibers of his well-developed muscles. "So, how did you become a personal trainer?"

[madam-whim]

Meet the OC - Maelle

A letter from Queen Maraya to Countess Clairene Auzin that contains the details of their shared matchmaking efforts concerning a young Breton noble from Wayrest and Clairene’s brother.

Dear Clairene,

I cannot express how glad I was to receive your letter. I must admit, at this point I was beginning to run out of ideas, and now you have provided a perfect opportunity indeed. A request for a mage trained in restoration! A brilliant idea, my friend! As you know, I kept trying to come up with a reason that might allow me to send Maelle to you without giving them (or my dear husband) cause for suspicion, and your son’s accident turned out to be the perfect excuse indeed! I am, of course, sorry to hear about his injury, but a broken leg is hardly a cause for concern – Maelle will make sure it heals correctly, and I am certain that he will be back on his feet within hours once they arrive, much more quickly than he would be if you gave it time to heal on its own. Maelle is the most competent healer I know, and they would never allow a patient to be in pain for longer than is absolutely necessary. I have already informed them that the healer you employ is an alchemist rather than a mage, which proved to be incentive enough for them to go and pack their supplies at once. Their dedication truly is admirable. I assume that by the time you read this letter, Maelle won’t be far; they will probably be only a few hours behind my messenger. You can rest assured that your son will receive the best possible treatment, and soon.

Now, as you can probably imagine, I have not sent Maelle to make this journey on their own. We all know of the dangers that seem to lurk around every corner these days, and their parents would have my head if anything happened to them – even my husband very nearly failed to convince them to let Maelle extend their employment with us, though I fear this is mostly due to their mother’s desire to continue at playing matchmaker. The woman truly has no idea her child has already found an ideal partner on their own…

In any case, I have sent Izani along with dear Maelle to make sure they arrive safely. I trust you remember Izani? She has told me the two of you have met briefly in the past, and I know her to be one of your brother’s closest friends. You should have seen the look Emeric’s face when she first dragged poor Bastian along for a visit, but that is a story for another day. Suffice it to say that she has introduced him as someone worthy of trust, and has slowly been working on improving my dear husband’s opinion of him ever since. I have talked to Izani at length about the way she did it while leaving Emeric completely unable to object, and I found out that we have an ally in her. She wants to give Bastian and Maelle a chance at being happy together as much as we do, though she appeared quite shocked when she learned that I knew of their relationship. According to what she said, she is the only one who was actually told about the two of them and has been helping them to pass messages along. I have kept Maelle in the dark about my knowledge because of this – I did not mean to upset them or make them think that I object, and I would like to leave it to you to reveal the truth of the matter when you feel the time is right, as the happiness of the young couple is our priority at this moment.

As for our next steps, I would like for you to keep Maelle and your brother busy for a while. Izani will remain with you for a few days before returning to Wayrest – she did miss her friend and would like a chance to catch up with him, and also it would not do for her to depart again in a hurry, as it would surely leave both Bastian and Maelle wondering what is wrong. I do need you to make sure Maelle and Bastian both stay with you for a while longer – perhaps give Maelle an opportunity to meet your family? I think that would do nicely. Meanwhile, Izani and I will handle my husband. He does adore Maelle and values them greatly, both for their skills and their kind heart, so I suppose it will come as a shock to him to learn that they have been involved with your brother for years. I will not lie to you – this is the main reason why Bastian has to be kept away from Wayrest for the time being. Both me and Izani are convinced that Emeric’s desire to see Maelle happy will win out in the end, though, and he has occasionally made some remarks that give me reason to suspect he does not dislike Bastian as much as he pretends to. After all, Emeric knows a child should not be judged for their father’s misdeeds. This is especially true in Bastian’s case, who was little more than a babe at the time, and Emeric knows it and won’t be able to hold a grudge for much longer. If all goes well, he’ll even restore your brother’s title to him within a year or two, but we shall see.

I will end this letter for now, and will write again as soon as I am absolutely certain your brother is safe from both my husband and Maelle’s meddling parents. Please do keep me informed about how they and Bastian are doing! I eagerly await your reply.

Your friend,

Maraya

[perlukafarinn]

Sweeter Than Roses

happy holidays @galaxystiel​ from your @destielsecretsanta2020​ secret santa! sorry this is late but since i didn’t know i would have to pinch hit until a couple of days after posting date, this was the quickest turn-around i could manage. i hope you like it!

Dean loved the holiday season. Of course he did, he made about a quarter of his annual income in December. People liked to eat baked goods on Christmas, go figure.

But he hated the holiday season, too. Every single day was busy, every hour was rush hour. Sometimes he didn’t get the last orders done until an hour after closing. He had seasonal hires, of course, but in the three years since he opened Rolling Scones, he’d always ended up underestimated how much extra help he needed.

Thankfully, things quieted as soon as Christmas was over. The last week of the year, while still busy, was a calm oasis compared to what came before. This meant that for the first time all month, Dean wasn’t busy with twelve other customers when Cas dropped by.

Cas had been coming to Rolling Scones twice a week, like clockwork, ever since he took over the flower shop next door a few months ago. Dean had been sad to see Mildred, the previous owner, go but he’d been prepared to welcome his new neighbor. He’d even set aside a complimentary piece of pie for him, because who didn’t like pie?

The first time Cas had come by, Dean had been so dazed that he almost forgot not to charge him for the pie. Dean hadn’t even thought he had a type when it came to men but here Cas had been to prove him wrong, handsome and charming and weird in the exact right way to come across as endearing rather than awkward. 

He always came about half an hour before the lunch rush, ordering a cup of coffee and a new type of pastry every time. Then he hung around while he ate, talking with Dean if he wasn’t with another customer. 

And yeah, maybe Dean treasured those quiet moments with Cas, learning about flowers and their symbolic meaning and explaining to him how to make the perfectly flaky pie crust. Maybe he looked forward to the days Cas would come by the rest of the week. Maybe he’d added a few items to his menu since Cas started frequenting, just to give him the incentive to keep coming. 

It was called being a good business owner. 

This past month, Cas had come by for his coffee and pastry and taken them to go. He’d been busy, too, so stopping wouldn’t have been an option even if the bakery hadn’t been crowded and Dean hadn’t been on the phone with some asshole who absolutely needed sixty-four macarons in eight different flavors for a holiday party that same evening. 

Today, though, was just a slightly-busier-than-average Monday. For both of them, judging by the foot traffic outside that Dean could see from his spot behind the counter. 

Cas even arrived a little bit earlier than usual, carrying a huge bouquet of red roses.

Dean watched him, amused as Cas navigated his way past the chairs and tables, head just barely poking up past the flowers in his arms.

“What’s this?” he asked as Cas finally arrived at the counter. 

Cas placed the flowers down, giving Dean an abashed smile. “Cancelled order. A young man was intending to propose on Christmas Day but apparently, his girlfriend had different plans.”

“Yikes, poor guy.”

“Yes,” Cas said. “But I felt the bouquet should be enjoyed by someone, so I thought of you.”

Dean grinned. “You’re not planning on proposing, are you? ‘Cause I like you but I don’t think we’re there just yet.”

“For the bakery,” Cas clarified, cheeks growing pink. “I - uh, I thought they might look nice in your window.”

“Relax, I’m kidding.” Dean picked up the bouquet. It was heavier than it looked and up close, the smell of them was almost overwhelming in its sweetness. “Thanks, Cas. I don’t gotta feed them, right?”

“Only water.” 

Dean looked around for some free space for the flowers then, failing to find one, put them back down on the counter. “So, what’ll it be today?”

Cas placed his order - a cup of coffee and a festive peppermint eclair Dean only offered around the holidays - and stood at the counter as he ate, talking with Dean in between customers. As soon as he left, Krissy walked up to Dean and smacked his shoulder.

"He gave you flowers?” 

Dean rubbed the spot she hit - kid was getting stronger by the day. Maybe he should stop making her knead the bread. “Yeah?”

“And you didn’t take the hint and ask him out?” she asked.

“They weren’t for me, they were for the shop. It wasn’t a hint.”

Krissy crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows in disbelief.

“Was it?” Dean asked faintly.

“I know they say your mind starts to go as you grow older but, wow.”

“I’m not that old,” Dean protested. “You’re… young.”

“Nice one, boss.”

“Shut up.” Dean scratched the back of his neck, observing the roses still sitting on the counter. “You’re not messing with me? You really think that was a hint?”

“He gave you red roses. Dude couldn’t have been more obvious if he walked up to you and shoved his tongue down your throat.”

Dean shoved at her. Krissy danced out of reach, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Go man the register," he told her. "You've got customers waiting."

She rolled her eyes but did as told. Dean picked up the bouquet, getting it out of her way, and went to the back to find something to use as a vase. As he looked, he thought about what Krissy had said.

Had Cas meant that gift to be romantic? There were times when they talked that Dean thought his feelings might not be unrequited but then, he usually dismissed it as wishful thinking. Cas had never asked him out. He usually responded to Dean's more overt flirting with a confused but polite smile. That had to mean he wasn't interested and was just too nice to say so, right?

But then again, red roses. Those were objectively the most romantic flower, even Dean knew that. Sure, Cas had said they were for the bakery, but he'd also said I thought of you. He could've thrown them out or donated them or done whatever he did with flowers he couldn't sell. But no, he'd brought them to Dean, because he'd thought of him.

And Dean had gone and screwed it up by making a bad joke. 

He needed to make it up to him. Just asking him out wouldn’t be enough and it wasn’t like he could give Cas flowers back. But, Dean considered, an idea forming in his mind, he could give him something else.

 It took a couple of tries. Dean’s first attempt ended with a soggy middle. His second in burnt edges on the carefully crafted apple/rose petals. His third was perfect, the apples sliced not too thick and not too thin, curling up beautifully in the oven as they dried while still retaining their vibrant red color.

He stared down at his creation, cooling on the counter in his bakery’s kitchen. It was an apple pie and a rose bouquet rolled into one, the apple slices serving as petals arranged on top, sweet and tart just the way Cas liked best. 

Cas wasn’t due for another visit until tomorrow but Dean was too nervous to wait. Both Krissy and Kevin were working today and the lunch rush wouldn’t start just yet, he had the time to drop by next door and deliver his gift. And possibly ask Cas out, put his heart on the line for what might just be a simple misunderstanding of intentions.

No big. A couple of minutes, in and out.

He put the pie on a plate, covering it with cloth for the short trip over to Cas' shop. Krissy dryly wished him good luck on his way out, to which he responded with a raised middle finger.

("Good luck? He's just delivering pie."

"Oh, Kevin.")

Dean had only been inside the flower shop a couple of times since Cas took over. A lot had changed since Mildred left, most noticeable of all a window in the ceiling that let in the pale morning light, shining directly down on the counter where Cas was working alongside a dark-haired woman. He smiled as he spotted Dean at the door, turning to the woman to say something before leaving her alone with the customers and making his way over.

"Hello, Dean." God, had he always looked this beautiful? "What brings you here?"

Dean opened his mouth, then realized that he had no idea what he was going to say. Wordlessly, he shoved the pie at Cas' chest. Cas looked confused but accepted, pulling the cloth away.

"Oh, this is lovely!" Cas looked back up at Dean. "You made this for me?"

Dean shrugged, his ears growing warm. "Just- since you brought me those roses yesterday. Thought I'd bring you something nice in return."

"Thank you, Dean, but there was no need. It wasn't any trouble for me, I had the roses by chance and no one else to give them to."

Dean's stomach sank. So it hadn't been romantic after all. Krissy had been way off and Dean had been desperate enough to believe her.

“It’s, uh, no big.” Dean cleared his throat. He needed to get out of here, quick. “I was gonna test out this technique anyway, so I figured I might as well try it on someone. Anyway, I gotta go back. Busy time, you know how it is.”

Cas nodded. “Thank you again for the pie.”

“No problem.”

 Krissy had the good sense not to say anything when Dean returned less than two minutes after he left. She must have explained to Kevin what was going on because for the rest of the day, the two of them were model employees, quiet and helpful - in other words, nothing like their usual selves.

Dean sent them home early, figuring he’d use the time it would take him to close up by himself to stew in his disappointment and get it out of his system before he got home. He hadn’t lost anything, after all. He and Cas hadn’t broken up. It was just a stupid crush, a passing infatuation, and Cas would still be his friend once he got over it.

He’d be fine.

He’d almost managed to convince himself he believed that whole crock of shit when someone knocked on the door. Dean looked up, ready to tell them off when the bakery was so clearly closed, but stopped short when he saw Cas standing outside, giving him a small wave.

Dean was tempted to pretend he hadn't seen him, or to wave him off under the pretense of needing to close up quickly. 

He'd need to talk to Cas again sooner or later, though. He closed the register, walking up to the door and swinging it open. A cool breeze greeted him. Dean now noticed snowflakes lazily drifting from the sky, covering the ground in soft, powdery snow.

Dean stood aside but Cas remained in the doorway, looking nervous.

"I think I may have misunderstood you earlier," he said. "After you left, Meg told me that the pie was- that it might be a romantic gesture?"

Dean stared at him, his face on fire. Great, so Cas had been completely clueless and this Meg chick had to go and rat him out? And now he was here to, what, make sure Dean knew nothing was going to happen?

"Was it?" Cas prompted after a long silence.

Dean looked away. "Does it matter? Look, I promise I'm not gonna make things awkward if that's what you're worried about. Nothing has to change, I'll get over-"

"There was no proposal," Cas blurted. "I just wanted to give you flowers."

Dean blinked. "You-?"

"I intended to be honest with you but when the moment came, I lost my nerve." Cas smiled sheepishly. "So I made up a story about a botched proposal. The truth is I like you and I've wanted to ask you out for a while."

Dean laughed. He couldn't help it, this situation was beyond ridiculous. 

"I wasn't testing out any new techniques," he admitted. "I just wanted to give you pie."

Cas' smile widened and if he'd been beautiful before it was nothing compared to now, beaming and pink-cheeked, eyes sparkling in the artificial glow of the streetlights. Dean wanted to kiss him so bad and for once, he had no excuse to hold back.

Cas must have been thinking the same thing because they met in the middle, noses bumping in their excitement, before Cas cupped Dean’s cheek and tilted his head, bringing their lips together. It was a sweet kiss and Dean smiled as he could taste the apples and cinnamon on Cas’ lips. 

Dean’s heart was pounding as they parted, stomach fluttering with what felt suspiciously like butterflies. 

“I know offering pastries to a baker might be as useless as offering flowers to a florist,” Cas said, “but I have some pie left over if you’d-”

Dean cut him off with a quick kiss. “Baker or no, I never turn down pie.”

But even with the promise of pie Dean was in no hurry to move and neither, it seemed, was Cas, because they lingered in the doorway, trading kisses until their noses had gone cold and Cas’ dark hair was dusted with melting snowflakes. 

[luciferloser]

Demon brothers & Undateables react to an MC with a preteen child

(As you might have guessed by now, GN MC!)

(the child’s gender may be specified in some of the scenarios)

(Y/C/N = your child’s name)

Spoilers for lesson 16 in Belphie’s section!!

Lucifer

Toddler or Preteen, it didn’t make much difference to the eldest brother. He’s seen all the stages of development with the majority of his brothers and Satan, there’s probably nothing your child could possibly throw his way that would shock him.

That is, until he actually met your child. At first he remained at his full height to assert dominance, there was no way he was going to stoop to this human’s level not that his back would allow it anyways. But then, before he could even properly introduce himself, your 12 year old squared his shoulders and declared to the Avatar of Pride, if he did anything to hurt you, your son would make his life hell... oh wait. 

That bold statement did surprise Lucifer at first, but as your son trailed off and stepped back slightly, realising his mistake, he couldn’t help but laugh. “Kudos, young man, but I don’t think there’s much you can do that can torment me terribly.” he chuckled. 

“Wanna bet?” your son grumbled in response, already thinking of numerous ways to make this strange man pay.

“I have six younger brothers, I’d like to see you come up with anything they haven’t.” he smirked in response, “Anyways, come along, preparations for your room have been completed.” 

With that, Lucifer turned away from your son and strode down the corridor. This year was certainly going to be interesting...

Mammon

The Avatar of Greed didn’t really know what to say when he saw you standing next to a slightly smaller version of yourself. At first, he thought you were siblings, but then it dawned on him that you had a child. 

Mammon, as the ‘babysitter’ naturally spent more time around your daughter than you, but that certainly didn’t stop him from adding the odd flirtatious remark to you when he wasn’t being a tsundere. 

It was this development that caused your daughter to speak up one evening when she was chilling in the lounge with Mammon and Asmodeus. “Listen, Mammon, as much as I don’t mind you flirting with my parent, there’s something you ought to know. Hurt them and I swear to you now I will kick you so hard up the ass you’ll taste nothing but my shoe for a week.” your daughter boldly announced, not once glancing up from her phone. 

While Asmo was busy rolling on the floor in tears of laughter, the white-haired demon just spluttered as his cheeks darkened. “H-hey what makes you think I-I’d hurt ya ma anyways.” he tried to defend himself.

“I’m not saying I expect you’re going to hurt them, just giving you even more of an incentive not to.” your child smiled in an almost sickeningly sweet manner before jumping up from the sofa. 

“This was a lovely chat but me and Beel are going out for lunch, catch you later!”

Asmo picked himself up from the floor, and as he pushed Mammon’s jaw back up, he added “she’d be the perfect niece for me, hurry up and take MC out on a date.” With that, Mammon shook his head slightly as he went to go and find you. He wasn’t sure whether he hoped the attitude came from you or not...

Leviathan

When the otaku heard the news that the exchange student had a child, he was quite nervous. One human was going to be enough to handle, let alone an additional smaller one. 

His fears only worsened when you left him alone with your child for the first time. The two of you had been gaming as you usually did once a week and your child wanted in this time. You stood up at the end of that round, promising that you were going to get the three of you drinks and some snacks. Before Levi could even protest, you had already closed the door behind you.

The demon of Envy’s eyes darted all around his room, looking anywhere but at the small human. That is until your spawn child murmured his name. Snapping his head round to face your child, his eyes widened slightly.

“Okay so I get you don’t really hang out with ‘normies’ or whatever that’s supposed to mean, but if you really don’t wanna be with my parent then tell them that. I’m not gonna let you hurt them like that.” your child confessed, eyes never once leaving his.

After that confession, Leviathan got a faraway look in his eyes as he thought of the resemblance to an anime he’d just finished binge watching last night; ‘my human best friend has a child that is secretly a guardian angel!’. 

Snapping out of his reverie, Levi looked down at your child once more and nodded his head profusely. ‘I solemnly swear to you I will protect them.’ he recited the lines the protagonist from the anime had used, but he meant every word he said.

Satan

Being the youngest of his brother’s meant Satan had never really had anybody to be a role model for. Which is why, surprisingly, he felt compelled to look out for your child when he first met you both. Especially because your child was already past the unnecessary crying stage and had a pretty solid understanding of communication.

Your child had never really been an extrovert and so the avatar of wrath hadn’t been too opposed to looking after your carbon copy when you were busy being pulled in every which direction by his brothers. On one of those days, your child had accompanied Satan to the library to find some more books to occupy themselves with; seeing as they weren’t technically enrolled at RAD there was no need for them to complete any class work.

“Hey Satan, can I ask you something?” Your child enquired, glancing up from their novel.

“Hm? What’s on your mind, Y/C/N?”

“Why do you look at my parent like they hung the stars in the sky? And don’t say you don’t, because I spoke to Asmo about it too and he couldn’t agree more.” Your smaller version of yourself asked, tilting their head slightly.

Blinking rapidly in surprise at the question, Satan gawped at your child before shaking his head slightly. “You shouldn’t ask Asmo questions like that. He’s the avatar of lust - not love. I know for a fact he thinks I’m looking at them like-“

“Gross! I don’t need to hear about things like that, I’m gonna go hang out with Simeon if you’re gonna talk about that.” Wrinkling their nose in disgust, your child stood up to leave, packing his books with him. Smiling to himself as he watched Y/C/N leave, he thought to himself ‘I guess I need to have a chat with Y/N’

Asmodeus

The avatar of lust couldn’t help but squeal in delight when he took in the sight of you standing with your child. He had not one, but two new friends to go out clubbing with! What? What do you mean Y/C/N isn’t allowed to go clubbing? Well that’s boring. Oh well, they can always just go shopping together and Asmo can arrange some fashion shows for you and your child. In fact, yesterday he bought the cutest coat and it would suit Y/C/N so well.

Speaking of going shopping together, one night when you and Beel had gone out to Madame Screams to try some of the new ice cream on offer, Asmo had invited Y/C/N back to his room for a self care night after shopping all day. Applying a face mask to his skin and your daughter’s, he laid beside her to let the mask dry.

“Hey Asmo, I have a question for you.” your child stated, staring up at the canopy that covered the demon of lust’s bed.

“If its about that brunette demon that held the door open for you at River Styx he’s single but there’s so many nicer demon’s out there for you and I’m pretty sure he-“

“No! It’s not about him. I admit he was cute but that’s not what I wanted to ask. What I wanted to ask was, whether you were interested in anybody...” your daughter trailed off, suddenly feeling bad for prying.

“Oh honey, while you’re an absolute treasure and I have loved spending time with you lately I don’t think we’d be a very good match at all. If I’m honest I’m more interested in Y/N. I’m so sorry you had to find out this way- why are you laughing?” Asmodeus stopped his spiel of an apology at the sound of your daughter’s chuckles.

“I’M not into you like that either, babe. I only asked for my parent’s sake. They’re head over heels for you and I just wanted to see if you felt the same.” Your daughter confessed, rising from Asmo’s bed to find a washcloth. “When they get back from the ice cream store with Beel, you should totally ask them out. Watch how quickly they’ll stumble to agree.” And with that, your daughter left the avatar of lust alone with his thoughts of you.

Beelzebub

“Did the human bring a snack with them?”

That was the first thing the redhead ever said to you and your teen son. Needless to say it took a while for your son to warm up to Beel after that. When the situation was explained to the glutton felt very guilty afterwards and went above and beyond to make it up to him.

One afternoon when the three of you were supposed to go to a new cafe that had just opened, Lucifer wanted to go over some paperwork with you, and so Beel offered to take your son out anyways and promised to try to save you a cupcake. Your son didn’t look too thrilled at the idea of going out for food with the demon who thought he was the snack, but reluctantly agreed for your sake.

“Look, Beelzebub I have to be honest with you. You seem nice enough and all, but I still don’t trust you especially knowing you could swallow us whole and thought about doing that the first time we met you. But on the flip side, you did protect Luke from Lucifer a while ago. So I suppose I can learn to trust you, is what I’m trying to say.” Y/C/N stated as he brought a mug of spiced tea to his lips, looking over at the demon who went wide eyed at the sudden confession.

Swallowing the rest of the cheesecake in his mouth, Beel nodded earnestly, “No its okay! I’m not surprised you don’t trust me, after what i said to you I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me. I know this probably isn’t what you want to hear, but i care about you, you’re basically family at this point. And I care about Y/N too; quite a bit actually.” By the end of his sentence, the demon’s face was almost as red as his hair.

“Hmph, I figured as much. If you care about them even half as much as you say you do, say something. You might be surprised what you find out.” Your son smirked, leaning back in his seat to take in the blushing demon before him.

Belphegor

Unsurprisingly, your son had a blatant distaste for Belphegor when they met officially. Watching your body fall still in Mammon’s arms to then disappear was enough to send him charging at the sloth demon. Even after Barbatos’ assistance on the matter and bringing you back, Y/C/N held the iciest glare he could muster. Laying a hand on his shoulder, you assured him you were okay and didn’t hurt anymore.

“Put it this way Belphegor. I never want to see you within touching distance of us again. Demon or not, I will not hesitate to swing for you. Nobody hurts my family.” Y/C/N spat, turning on his heel and tugging you with him.

After weeks of awkward meal times, you and Beel hatched a plan to get your son and his twin talking. You had forgiven Belphie for what happened, understanding that he’d had his own family in mind when he attacked you.

“Oh. Y/C/N have you seen Y/N? They wanted me to meet them here.” Belphegor asked, avoiding eye contact with your son the entire time.

“I wanted to ask you the same thing about Beel, he said-” your son was cut off by the sound of the living room door slamming shut and the lock clicking in place. “Is this some kind of joke? Mammon if that’s you and this is your idea of a joke you’re not funny! Open the door!”

There was no answer from the other side of the door, the only sound being that of a pair of retreating footsteps. Sighing in defeat, your son slid down the door and glancing at Belphegor, to see him looking just as uncomfortable as Y/C/N felt. “Well, there’s no telling how long we’re gonna be in here. I feel like I owe you an explanation...” The sloth demon began, wringing his hands together as he prepared to tell your son everything.

A few hours later, you and Beel opened the door slowly to reveal your son and Belphegor dozing on one another. Smiling at each other in victory, the two of you crept closer and wrapped them in one of the blankets on the back of the sofa. You had to admit, this was the most peaceful the two of them had looked in a long time.

[mbti-notes]

Hi MBTI. Not type related but I still want to ask because of your social insight. What does respect mean to you? I’ve met people who preach feminism but do not communicate honestly and clearly with girls they sleep around with (eg ghosting), which makes me think that feminism is just political theory, but in practice it means to truly respect other people regardless of their gender (ie being honest, clear and able to put ones anxieties/insecurities aside momentarily to ensure the well-being of

[con't: the other person). I asked myself exactly what respect entails, it’s a concept Ive taken for granted and thought I knew but realized I’ve never actually read/heard someone really putting into words. I’ve been reading online and a lot of people seem to muddle it with the word “admiration” and I think I disagree because I think respect is more about being open to sharing common ground and not placing someone above or below you, as admiration could cause. To me respect and  equality are more similar, and that’s how I linked it to feminism. How would you define respect? And what do you think about this? Thank you and all the best!<3 ]

You're mixing several issues together, which makes your question too complicated. Respect and making moral judgments are big enough topics without adding gender into the mix.

I remember once, a long time ago, I was grappling with a difficult moral dilemma. I approached a few people to talk about it. One person judged me as "incompetent" because the matter seemed quite easy in their mind. One person judged me as "weak" because I wasn't willing to just do what I wanted to do. One person judged me as "fake" because they thought I was only worried about appearing like a moral person in the eyes of others. One person judged me as "selfish" because I wasn't willing to sacrifice myself for the greater good. One person judged me as "overthinking" the matter because I was worried about more than just myself.

Of course, not being assholes, their judgments came out as veiled implications rather than direct criticisms. However, this example reveals some truth: People's moral judgments are often quite egocentric, a mere reflection of their own subjective ego conflicts about what it means to be a "good" or "bad" person. Whichever way they choose to conceptualize morality is what they expect of others (i.e. projection).

We all have to make moral judgments and navigate difficult moral situations. One thing that significantly influences people's ability to make good moral decisions is their level of ego development, you can read more about it in the Type Dev Guide. Suffice it to ask: Is your conception of morality more rule-based (i.e. about the power to judge) or more virtue-based (i.e. about the wisdom to do right)?

The more egocentric someone is, the more invested they are in maintaining a positive self-image, and the more sensitive they are to any data that would threaten their ego and suggest that they are a "bad" person. Egocentric people are more likely to use a rule-based approach to morality because its starkness and simplicity allow for easy detection and deflection of ego threats. If morality is a simple matter of knowing the rules of right and wrong, then moral judgments are a simple matter of whether people followed the rules.

For example, society says that you should work hard in school, get a good job, earn money, and your reward is that you are able to afford your life. Therefore, if you didn't succeed in school, you didn't get a good job, you can't earn much money, you can't afford the things you need, then there is something "wrong" with you. In short, you failed to follow the rules, so you deserve to be punished with the negative consequence of poverty. Rule-based morality is "safe" for the ego because there's no ambiguity that makes you doubt your moral judgment, and hence no reason to doubt your own moral worth.

People often talk about whether someone "deserves" respect, often because they want to make an argument that someone doesn't deserve respect for something bad they did. The more "admirable" someone is, the more respect they deserve? I will respect this person because they are "nice"? I will not extend respect to that person because they are "mean"?

If you approach respect with these "rules", you essentially get to play god. You get to sit on a high horse and judge people as worthy or unworthy. If you obey the rules of being an "admirable" person, you are called a "good" person, so you get rewarded with respect; whereas if you disobey the rules, you are a "bad" person, so you get punished with less respect or even disrespect. This way of thinking is rather childish. Notice how kids argue that they don't have to follow the rules when they see someone else breaking the rules. Their idea of morality boils down to whether they themselves win or lose.

Children, understandably, think in stark terms of reward and punishment because they are only starting to learn what it means to be an "acceptable" member of society. They only see what's on the surface because they aren't yet capable of more sophisticated moral reasoning. When an adult hasn't learned more sophisticated moral reasoning, they continue with the superficial idea of reward and punishment, only they take it further. Now that they are "adult" by society's superficial age standard, they possess the social status and thus the social power to dole out rewards and punishments to anyone "beneath" them in status. In essence, "I was subject to the rules as a child, and now I get to enforce the rules as an adult."

Adding gender into the mix, a lot of people abide by "rules" that they learned in childhood about what a "man" is, what a "woman" is, how they are different, and how people "should" behave according to their gender. Men, as a social group, are taught to obey one set of rules, while women, as a social group, are taught to obey another set of rules. This social conditioning shows up in people's implicit gender biases as well as outright gender discrimination.

If men, as a group, possess the majority of social power and privilege, they become the default reference point for everyone. Social and political decisions are predominantly made from their point of view, in accordance with their needs and desires, and this encourages them to treat women as objects that are only worthy of respect as long as they prop up masculine power. Women, as a group, are taught to see the world through the masculine perspective and believe that masculinity is superior to femininity, so they must behave submissively and serve their purpose to men.

As an individual man, if you follow the rules and elevate masculinity over femininity, you get rewarded with status and power. If you don't follow the rules, you get punished with lower status and being branded as undesirable (not a "real" man). As a woman, if you follow the rules and elevate masculinity over femininity, you get rewarded with some privilege and favors, but always safely within the bounds of masculine dominance. If you don't follow the rules, you get cruelly shamed into compliance and even ostracized if you are deemed a lost cause (not a "real" woman).

It is very difficult for individuals to counter social conditioning because so much of the learning happens unconsciously. It's a steep uphill battle for people to develop more self-awareness about the "rules" they have been taught to follow. And even when one becomes aware of having implicit biases or prejudices, it's not easy to rise above them. It takes a lot of conscious effort to go against lessons that were ingrained into your psyche since infancy. Furthermore, when you're a member of the social group that enjoys more power and privilege, there's very little incentive for you to change, in fact, you have much more incentive to preserve the status quo, which is why inequality is so difficult to remedy.

The unconscious nature of bias and prejudice is why ego development is very important. When you reach higher levels of ego development, your self-awareness grows, and that allows you to gradually shift from a simplistic rule-based morality to a more complex virtue-based morality which recognizes that moral issues aren't always black-and-white. Virtue-based morality is about what's actually in people's hearts and the role that moral conscience plays in decision making.

Taking the example from above: WHY did the person fail in school? Was it simply because they didn't follow the rules and work as hard as they should have? Or was it due to factors that were beyond their control, such as: an untreated learning disability, lack of school funding due to living in a poor area, a dysfunctional family situation that interfered with their learning process, etc?

Rule-based morality is about compliance and shaming people into the appearance of compliance. Virtue-based morality is about understanding and addressing the root causes of moral failing. To be capable of more complex moral reasoning is to dig deeper and ask more questions to get to the truth, which means that morality is no longer a simple matter. The gray areas start to appear, you start to see exceptions to the rule, and you become more empathetic because you're looking into people's hearts and seeing how they have suffered unfairly. You no longer stereotype and generalize about people but treat everyone as a unique individual with unique circumstances to take into account. Egocentric people don't want this level of moral responsibility because then they'd have to always question themselves about whether they are truly doing the right thing, and they would constantly have to confront the many ways they fall short in their morality.

When you truly see the harm of judging people by superficial appearances, you would never want to be a victim of it, and that helps you understand that you shouldn't be a perpetrator of it, either. When you truly see the harm of treating people unfairly based on gender, you would never want to be a victim of it, and that helps you understand that you shouldn't be a perpetrator of it, either. When you're able to empathize with people who were treated unfairly or victimized by unjust rules, you can't help but want to make things fairer for everyone (yes, equality). Virtue-based morality is about moral conscience in terms of what kind of person you hope to be, what kind of influence you want to have, what kind of society you want to live in, and whether you are actually a virtuous person in your heart rather than just appearing like one in public. When you show respect to people, it's not because they "deserve" it, it's because you know that you being respectful to everyone is the first step in helping to create a society that is more respectful to everyone.

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 21: Feckless

Content Warning: Torture, Intense Psychological Warfare, Body Harm, Physical and Emotional Abuse It was just supposed to be getting his money back. That was all he wanted out of the woman. But oh, how quickly it had turned to seeing some of the purest forms of red Esredes was capable of seeing. Being pickpocketed in Ul'dah was to be expected to happen eventually- inconvenient that it occurred while he was trying to get supplies for his family, but just a detour to follow the woman into a more secluded space and request his money back. No big deal. He had his ability to cloak himself with an illusion, and so she didn't see him following her down past that door behind the Miner's guild and into an alley. He watched her begin to count his money with a smile on her face and a whisper of "Oh, yes." Just a common pickpocket. No need to escalate anything. "All right, little lady." He began, the illusion still disguising him, causing the woman to freeze and look around trying to locate his voice. Just to make it worse, he began pacing all around to make it more confusing as he spoke next. "Cute. Real cute little move you pulled back there, but I have places to be and so do you, no? Just give it back without trying anything and I'll leave. I'd rather not have anything unpleasant happen today now." "Who are you and what little move?" The woman hissed and tightened her hold on his gil pouch. "Don't play dumb with me, ma'am. Give me my gil back, please. Just toss it out in front of you." "This? Mine from the start," she retorted as she closed it up and put it away, then dashed past him and tried to run away. Esredes raised his hand up and fired a pink beam at the retreating woman's head without a second thought. The woman cursed sharply and she doubled back as her balance faltered, sliding a dagger out of her pocket to slash at the air. "What the hell are you?" With ease, Esredes moved behind her and rammed his sword handle into her upper back. She grunted and stumbled forward, then fell to the ground, the dagger clattering on the stone a good two feet away. She didn't get much time to struggle to get up before he knelt down and pinned her body under his legs, his sword arm securing her at the back as well. "For fuck's sake, Priya." The woman muttered under her breath as she found herself trapped. "Someone who wanted to mind his own fucking business and ask you nicely not to waste our time." Esredes finally answered her question as he retrieved the gil pouch from her pocket. The woman tried to fight back under his weight, but she was getting nowhere. She lashed a hand out to bat him away from her pocket, but Esredes lengthened his hand to form claws and slashed at it, and she tucked it back inside herself as he pushed down more with his sword. "You know, is it not a rule of thievery to fold it when you've bitten off more than you could chew? You'd do best to learn it." "As if you'd know," she spat out. "Leave me alone; it isn't like you'd need any of it!" "I was completely content to leave you alone before you pickpocketed me, thank you very much. And you don't know anything about me, little lady, so fuck off with that. You're not giving me any incentive to not report you right about now- what did you call yourself? Priya? Pretty name for a vicious little rat," Esredes remarked. "If you've eyes, this city doesn' do handouts." Esredes paused, her reply passing him over. Priya... why did the woman's name sound faintly familiar? Enough to bug him even through his tendency to forget names? It had to mean something, be from somewhere, but he didn't know a lot of people from Ul'dah... But someone he had interacted with a lot recently did, and... Esredes' eyes widened. Yes, it had been Elouan who mentioned that name to him during their most recent therapy session. The name of an ex of his who had beaten him for not making her enough money. Just a common pickpocket. Now she was also the woman who hurt his sunflower. "...Say, you must do this a lot, hm? Trying to get your way into money by any scummy means possible? Do you remember Elouan?" Priya froze at Elouan's name, but soon shifted into a smile that did not ease Esredes in the slightest. "Elouan? Dumber than a rock? What, isn't he dead?" "My gods," Esredes said. So it was true. This was the same woman and not a coincidence. The black heart in his chest pulsed hard, and dark, inky matter quickly spread through his insides. He moved his sword hand up and hit her on the side of the head with its handle. "I thought you were a simple thief, but no, you truly are a disgusting little parasite under there, aren't you? Shut the fuck up about handouts, I know what this city is, but you don't deserve them even if they existed. I show no sympathy towards an exploitative and manipulative abusive little monster like you. Oh, today is not going to be your day, little monster lady." He never did change his other hand back down- in its full display of rough and leathery skin she couldn't see, he wrapped it around her throat and pressed lightly. "Have you any idea how much you have to answer for?" Priya let out a soft noise and struggled much more aggressively now, clawing at the leathery hand with her own. "Hh--Answer? I'm answering to nothing. Call me what you want, I don't care. If you're calling me a monster, what're you?" With no eyes to find, she couldn't make eye contact, but she still shot quite the devilish look. "So he isn't dead, is he? Such a shame; I thought the 'yotes outside of Ul'Dah got him! It wasn't like he was worth much with the bets..." The inky matter only kept spreading. "He's worth far more than your pathetic, greedy little ass will ever be. But you wouldn't know anything about the worth of people because all they are to you is an ends for money, hmm?" He drew a line of blood across her throat. "I should fucking kill you. No one would be around to even notice your corpse or look for you, would they, hmm?" The woman laughed, even despite the pain. "You should? What's stopping--? No, who's stopping you? Elouan? That dumbass? Have you ever seen him come back from a loss down there? Do you know what it's like to not have any gil? Anything?" She spat at him and continued trying to fight, but his grip remained iron. "Shut the fuck up." Esredes ran his blade lightly across her forehead. She moved her hands to the ground and tried propelling herself up, but she couldn't even upset his balance. "To answer your question? Yes, I do. That's no fucking excuse to beat a man up who is willing to mutilate himself and risk his life for a woman who doesn't even consider him above maggots. He loved you because he didn't know better, didn't want to accept the evils of people, and you felt nothing." Her body tensed up and her eyes became even more hostile. "You don't have anything, no, a heart or any redeeming qualities included. You're a street rat who deserves to writhe in filth, because no part of you deserves even a single piece of gil! And to answer your other question?" He decided now was time to flicker back into existence before her eyes, his pupils compressed to slivers and sharp teeth grinning as he leaned in close to her face. "Well, if no one will find the body, I suppose nothing at all is stopping me, hm?" "He wasn't worth it. You're all talk and you still hesitate," she snickered at him. "You're still hesitating because of him, aren't you? Because you're just as weak. He wasn't fit to live long, y'know. Probably still isn't, too." "Oh, I'm not hesitating because I'm weak," Esredes smiled and pressed back hard against her struggle attempt with his sword and body, leaning even further in. "I'm hesitating because you're not getting off that easy after all you've done." He pressed harder on her throat and dug his thumb claw into it harder. "We're only getting started here. No one has made you answer for what you've done to him, and I am so glad we could meet for the occasion, unexpected as it is. Tell me, do you think you look good in red?" There was barely the shape of a creature below him by this point, just red. He ran his claws down her face, he ran his blade down both of her arms, he slapped her, all while taunting her about what a pathetic creature she was. "Get OFF," she soon shouted. "Oh, I'm sorry, you want me off?" His eyes widened for her. "Did you listen when Elouan asked you that, hmm?! Did you stop hitting him for things that were your fucking fault?!" She bit her lip and clenched her fists, shaking. "My fault? Who was the one that lost bets? Who was the one that just had to stop because it was 'too much'? Me? No; it was him!" There was venom in her words, and a lot of it. "One hit wasn't enough for him and you know that, don't you? You have to keep drilling it into his fuckin' head. He couldn't even find his way to the aetheryte even if he was fifteen fulms from the thing!" Esredes almost couldn't believe the things coming out of this rodent's mouth. "You're fucking disgusting. And wrong, on top of that." He hit her with his sword handle again. "No, your problem is that you're an impatient, selfish little aggressive piece of shit. If you actually had an ounce of patience and kindness that wasn't faked to all hell, you'd know the man can listen and learn quite fine if you explain it to him well enough. But you're not capable of that because you're not smart enough for such things and you don't actually bother to learn a thing about how people actually work. Maybe if you had the consideration outside of yourself for it, you wouldn't be stuck here pickpocketing people like a street rat, hm? People don't bend over for vicious worthless scheming selfish lowlives like yourself. You will never get anywhere in life. You cry so fucking much about how you have nothing, but in all your years of exploiting and robbing people, you still have absolutely nothing. I don't think you have anyone to blame but yourself at that point. You will die filthy, worthless, and alone, and no one is going to miss the dirt on the side of the street. Now, how many hits will it take for you to get it into your head, hm?" He punched her once. Twice. Three times. Four times. The last punch managed to make her wheeze, and she shut her eyes. "When is ever enough for you?!" "...enough," she said at last. "Enough!" His fist was raised for another blow, but he grinned at hearing the word out of her. "Ah. She did it. She is capable of having enough." He laughed for a solid few seconds. "For the first time in your life, something is enough. How does it feel, hm?" She wrinkled her nose, and tried to muster one last kick, but couldn't even. She said nothing, reaching up to try and pull his hand off her with trembling hands. Esredes took her hand and held it up by the wrist, staring at it. "Look at it. So weak, so small, so pathetic. If you'd held on to someone like Elouan and actually loved him, he'd protect you from something like this, you know. As is, you're not strong enough to protect or help yourself alone. And you never will be. You're a cold, vulnerable little lady in a harsh world, and your only response is to make it so your own existence has no justification for itself."

He wasn't done. He wasn't anywhere near done yet. He kept on going, tearing into her with more wounds. He even took his little pair of scissors he used to cut his emergency supply of gauze and cut away at her hair.  She kept helplessly trying to fight back, kept trying to scream at him to stop or go away. "I'm not going anywhere yet, little lady." He eventually said, grinning as he ran a clawed finger down her face. It was gentle enough not to draw blood, and she shivered under it. "Because I am your nightmare, I am the harbinger that comes for naughty little ladies who need to be a taught a lesson about the cruelty of their own heart." He then slapped her again, and continued cutting her hair. "You want to be a cruel and heartless beast to people who don't deserve it? Well, tell me, is it worth it? Is it worth it to sit here trapped in a reflection of your own cruelty and be content to bleed out in the darkness?" "Why should I talk about worth with you?" The venom and bite of her words had gone; she no longer had the energy for it, it seemed. It wasn’t long before she even started producing tears in her eyes. "Aww," Esredes said in a low, mocking voice. "Does the beast want to cry now? Cry like you made Elouan do countless times? It didn't mean a damn thing to you. Your tears are nothing to me." “I don’t care,” she said in a low and rough voice. "Don't care about you 'n what you say." "Then why are you crying?" "I'm not crying." Tears were treading down her cheeks. "Lady, look at your own goddamn face. You can't even hold it in. Is this too much for the poor little snake to handle, hmm? You're breaking this easily? And to think, Elouan survived multiple beatings from you, and you can't even handle this. Who's supposed to be the weak one again?" "Just shut up!" She croaked in a broken voice. "Shut up! This is pointless! Leave me alone. You've got what you wanted. You've gotten more than what you wanted already," even when she shut her eyes, the tears did not stop. "This is not enough." Venom dripped into his voice. "This is nothing to what you did to him. You can wish for it to stop all you want, but that never helped him, and it's not going to help you, either. Cry all you want, it only makes this all the sweeter. You get everything that you deserve." "He's just another pet of the sands, don't you see?“ The woman said through her shaky voice. "I thought I'd be better with more than what the trade offered. I couldn't start off without--without that." "And? And? That gives you free reign to crush his heart and body for not doing every little thing perfectly for you? When this man was willing to give you all of his love and torment himself far too much for you? You know, pickpocketing a man with a voice like mine? Fair enough, I know what city I walked into. But that? That as your excuse to be cruel in pursuit of money? No. No. Here, little lady. Answer me one little thing. Do you do all of this alone, in the true sense? Do you ever have a person to your name who isn't a tool you discard?" She finally opened her eyes again, staring at her hair on the ground. "Alone? Why'd I do it with anyone else? We're all just tools for anyone else to use--you either climb the ladder or get stuck in the lion's den. He was--he was too fuckin' much! His whining, his talking, his forgetfulness. All I wanted was gil for myself 'n business. Not the thing behind it." It wasn’t every day Esredes held true evil in his hands, trapped in his talons like a snake to an eagle. But hearing her twisted explanation only further caused his heart to rage in hatred. "Good. Fucking. Lord." He said. "People like you are the kind I despise the most. Your entire philosophy is so fucking stupid at its core, and all of you claim it's the most intelligent thing ever. I'll tell you a little story. I too have had absolutely nothing at multiple points in my life." On he went snipping her hair as he talked. "Do you know how you get away from having absolutely nothing? Yes, you have to have sharp skills of self reliance and the ability to climb out yourself, but you can only get so far on your own. You need, and I mean truly need, other people in order to truly build yourself up past a certain point. This is why types like you either never make it or end up dead eventually when someone else brings you down. You only make your own life harder by approaching people so selfishly without anything to add to it. People will see right through you, they'll tear you apart without sympathy or mercy, because you don't offer anything to last with people beyond the short term. If you don't blow everything in the short term with other people, and they aren't people like you, you get rewarded for being good to them. People are more willing to help you out of bad situations without you needing to do a thing because they remember when you were there for them, therefore becoming much more viable and sustainable than a one time deal you blow and suffer the consequences. You really think the world is going to bend to your greedy little will because you want money? No. It won't. It doesn't fucking care, and you know this. Lady, I don't know why I have to be the one telling you this with how smart you think you are, but here's a simple lesson on how people work. People talk. People complain. People forget things. People are not perfect little devices for you to drain gil out of, they are incomplete and flawed things trying their best. And people aren't very useful if you can't follow the basic law of economics and make a fair trade. You'd think growing up here, you'd understand this. Now, my point is, I was alone with nothing. And now? I have enough that you don't want to know the number of people who fear me, little lady. I didn't get this way by draining gil out of people like a vampire. I had to give something of myself, I had to sacrifice, I had to bleed for other people first, but people don't forget what you do for them, or to them. Each person you meet is a powerful weapon in their own right, a valuable resource beyond just money they make. And only a fool would discard such power. You're just a weak, stupid little thief who will never make it because you don't even understand what it takes to get out of your situation. You'll forever be in the den because you fall off the ladder every single time. There is a place to be vicious, there is a place to be kind. But you wouldn't know the difference if it held you down and punched you repeatedly in the face. I truly hope you never make it in life. The world doesn't need more people like you. Your kind can only drain the world of its resources and make it a worse place, all while declaring that the world is the evil one. Well have you ever fucking thought of being something that isn't so deserving of the world's evils? Because here you are now, bleeding out and crying, while Elouan is somewhere safe, having escaped, and is much happier because he's with people who appreciate his kindness for what it is. You have nothing for others to see. No one will ever lift you up off of here, because you'll never, ever deserve it." The woman laid there and absorbed his verbal blows, still too weak to fight back in any way. Tears still streamed down her face. "So what if I don't deserve it? I don't care. I don't care, I don't want to care, I just--" "You just what, lady? What is it? What is it you want to scream out right about now?" Priya gritted her teeth and out came a strangled cry. "--I don't want to be here. I don't want people around me or in m'life. I don't want anyone close to me! I don't want to be hurt like I've hurt them. I just want to be.  Be dead? Fuckin' fine, do it already!“ "Is that seriously all you want from life? To be alone with money?" "What else? Money can't hurt me like they could." "Wow." Esredes said. "Just wow. You know, popular sayings exist for a reason. People who are alone with money are some of the people most likely to drink themselves or take drugs into dying. I grew up in Ishgard. Everyone in the noble circle has money and guess what? We're all still fucking miserable and want to die, broken empty shells of people. People still treat you like trash and shit no matter how nice you look and how perfectly polite your tone is. You still die empty and unfulfilled and ultimately meaningless. ...But you know this in some capacity, don't you?" He leaned down close to her face again, and she shut her eyes. "Is it not just because you want this to stop that you keep trying to taunt me into ending you, hmm? Are you sick enough of festering in your own shallow existence that you want to just spare the world the burden of you?" “You already know the answer, don’t you? I’ve got nothin’ to my name or kin! Why keep me around if that’s all I have, aye?” "Exactly. There's no reason at all." He smiled. "If I gave you your dagger back, would you be able to do it, hmm?" Priya kept sniffling. She opened her eyes and they landed on her dagger, past the scraps of her hair. "It'd be the one good thing you ever do in your life." He continued on. "You'd finally give back to the world, as your corpse decays and the nutrients can be absorbed to go to things more deserving of them..." “Stop talking,” she mumbled yet again. But Esredes only grinned. "Just think about it. No more waking up in pursuit of your empty desires. No more pickpocketing and feeding on scraps. Just the sweet embrace of nothing washing over you, finally an end to all the suffering. You won't be weak anymore. You won't have to feed for more, and more, and more... you will finally have enough." “I said stop.” "You'll never make it. So why keep trying? You're not smart enough to make it, you're not clever enough. You don't have what it takes. All you'll ever do is prolong your own agony, stuck in the same cycle, over and over and over... is that really a worthwhile existence?" “Stop it! Stop talking! I’ve enough of this and, gods, just stop.” The woman managed to shout, but it so quickly became shaky, weak, and small once more. "You keep telling me to stop because you know I'm right. You just don't want to admit it." He took the final strands of her hair and positioned the scissors around them. "One moment, you're here, writhing in your own filth, and the next..." Snip. She hissed. "Release. Catharsis. Nothing." He held the hair out to her to look at. "See, you have a golden opportunity. No one cares about you. No one will notice if you die. You have no burdens tying you down to this earthy plane, you can release yourself like a balloon and fly. Wouldn't that be so wonderful, to see the sky...?" “I won’t see shite,” she retorted with certainty, stretching her arm to try and reach the dagger, only for Esredes to move it further away with a rock. "Alas," he said. "If you do it later, I won't stop you- but for right now, it's not time yet.” He threw the hair to scatter about the tunnel. “All this talk for not yet? Bullshite!” "You're not deserving of a quick death, dearest. No one with a heart as cold and empty as yours is." It would still be some time before he finally let her go. Tied up and unable to escape the tunnel with that pouch of opioids on her- a perfect trapped creature for the local authorities of Ul’dah to pick up. It was not enough. He couldn’t make it enough no matter how little he held back, and he knew it. Nothing would make up for what she did to his beloved Elouan. He would never completely understand the local parasites of the world that pretended to be human like her. Why were they all so content to live a destructive life focused only on themselves? Were they so wrapped up in themselves they couldn’t notice how boring they were, how little and shallow of an existence it was? They would go on, intimidating or charming those around them to feed their selfish empire- but at their core, they were weak nothings, and Esredes saw them for what they were. “Sorry, it was very crowded at the market today. I couldn’t get everything.” Esredes said to his parents later. “I’ll get it all in the morning before I leave. It should be much easier to navigate…” ——— @shieldbcund Priya, Elouan

[fantasticfemmefatale]

after the war- poe dameron

SUMMARY: so basically the reader is in a relationship with poe dameron and they’re on exegol and yeah. you get the gist. very fluffy.

WARNINGS: none cuz look at me im a saint

After the war, he’d promised you that the two of you (and BB-8, of course) would have a nice, quiet life somewhere. Yavin, maybe. It would be just you three. Safe and happy.

 But now, he’s staring down legion upon legion of Star Destroyers and thinking that he’ll never see her again, never get an “after the war”, until he hears crackling through his headset, and her voice, sounding small and distant, saying, “Poe?”

The thought that he’s never heard genuine fear in her voice before sets in, and stays there, making itself nice and comfortable.

“(Y/N).” His voice wavers, but he musters all the courage he has left- it’s not much, considering the hell they’ve gone through to get here- to sound okay, for her. This is suicide, they both know it, but neither of them want their last memory of each other to be this: a dark sky marked by the Star Destroyers representing the opposite of everything they’re about to give their lives to fight for. “I love you baby. And after this is done, I’m gonna get you that pet you always wanted.”

“Yeah?” She responds, trying to hold back the sobs that threaten to consume her, the sadness that wraps its bony fingers around her ankles, trying to pull her down, down, down. “I bet you don’t even remember what animal I wanted.”

“Does it matter? They’re all gross money-wasters,” Poe jokes, but it lacks the laughter his voice usually holds. He hopes she doesn’t notice.

She laughs, but it’s a broken laugh, cut into pieces by fading hope for a future with him. “I suppose I should get a droid instead, Dameron?”

He nods, and then realizes she can’t see him. If he squints, he can make out her body next to Finn, and he thinks that this isn’t what she deserves, nobody so perfect should have to die like this.

Her thoughts mirror his as she looks towards his x-wing. 

“I love you, General Poe Dameron.”

“I love you too, General (Y/N) Dameron.”

She doesn’t correct him, doesn’t tell him, we’re not married, idiot like she usually does. He remembers that he never got to propose as he zips around, shooting wildly and praying to whatever higher being there may be that she makes it out alive. Even if he dies, he just wants his girl to make it out alive. He can hear grunts through the headpiece as she fights to make it to the navigation signal she and Finn are trying to destroy. He doesn’t say anything; he knows there’s nothing he can say. There’s too many words billowing through his brain, and none of them are good enough for what he wants to tell her, for the love he wants to describe. He wants to tell her the moment he first knew he would marry her someday, when he saw her playing hide-and-seek with BB-8 in their shared quarters. But there’s no words for what he wants to say, so he settles for silence. And he hopes that she knows all he wishes he could say. After a few seconds of quiet, R2-D2 chirps, and he knows it’s something for (Y/N) to hear. She was taken in by Leia Organa after her parents’ death, and was best friends with R2 for years.

Down below, BB-8 beeps sadly, and all (Y/N) can say to the little droid is, “He knows.”

Poe is trying his best to keep a brave face- but it’s starting to fail. Until, that is, Lando Calrissian swoops in like the hotshot he is, with a huge band of Resistance sympathizers in tow. Poe whoops in delight, and down below (Y/N) winces from the loud yelling in her earpiece. 

“Thanks for the free migraine,” she says, but can’t keep herself from smiling. She’s bruised and bloodied, but even so, she thinks that this might be the happiest she’s ever felt. The notion that she and Poe might still have the life they’d whisper about after midnight in bed is enough to keep her moving, even after every muscle in her body screams at her to stop, to slow down and possibly never move again. She grits her teeth, tasting blood in her mouth, and wills her body to move. Thankfully, it does, but she doesn’t know how long it can hold out for. When she thinks for a second that this is it, she’s gonna die here, Poe’s voice comes through the earpiece again, urging her on, one step at a time.

He keeps talking her through this, and deep down he knows he’s trying to instill confidence in himself, too.

They talk, back and forth, as they do their respective jobs, until out of nowhere, lightning lights up the sky and Poe can hear (Y/N)’s screams as his ship is blasted by lightning, causing him to fall down, faster and faster, until the electricity stops, and he regains control of his ships while R2-D2 beeps like an angry toddler.

He allows himself to watch (Y/N), Finn, and Jannah destroy the command ship, feeling his chest swell with pride. 

After the last of the Star Destroyers have been destroyed, and Rey returns, bringing news of her grandfather’s death, Poe lands his x-wing on the desolate planet and runs towards his friends, his orange suit making that annoying plasticy sound as he does. Finn calls to him, but he runs past him and gathers (Y/N) in a bear hug, lifting her off the ground, until she yelps in pain. Setting her down gently, he notices a large gash on her thigh, and he curses as he unzips the top of his suit so he can rip his shirt sleeve and tie it over the cut.

“We did it,” he says, looking up into her eyes from where he’s kneeling in front of her to tie the makeshift tourniquet, too happy for a sarcastic remark.

“We did it,” she agrees, placing one hand on his shoulder to help her balance. Around them, their friends give each other hugs as they board ships to return to the Resistance base, until all that’s left is the two of them, R2-D2, and Poe’s ship. He helps her into the cockpit, and pushes his seat as far back as it can go so that she can sit in his lap on the way to the base. All of a sudden, he’s hit with the memory of his friend Snap, dying in front of him, and his voice trembles as he says, “Snap.”

He doesn’t need to finish the sentence. She knows.

She moves her arm so that it’s looped around Poe’s, and rubs her thumb across his suit reassuringly. 

They’re at the base relatively quickly, and everyone in sight is rejoicing. People dance, sing, kiss, and run around like lunatics, jumping with ecstasy.

Poe helps her out, looping an arm under hers and around her back to help support her weight. He turns with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes- one she knows all too well- and says, “Don’t want to be the odd ones out, right?” just before kissing her, and he swears that he died, back on Exegol, and this is heaven. Holding you is heaven. 

He kisses her, over and over, until he can’t breathe and he wonders if his lips are tinged blue by now from lack of oxygen, and when he finally pulls away, he asks: “So how about that life I promised you?”

“I don’t know,” she responds, flaunting a coy smile and raised eyebrow. “I might need a little more convincing.”

Poe turns so that she’s directly in front of him, and then drops to one knee. “Is this enough incentive?” he asks, as he pulls out a small, scratched box from the pocket of his suit.

She gasps and her eyes tear up, and he smiles as she nods and throws her arms around his neck, wincing a bit as she lowers herself to the ground because of her leg injury. He flicks the box open, and pulls out the ring nestled inside, and slips it onto her finger. Suddenly, she pulls back, and Poe’s brain stops, thinking she’s going to break up with him right after agreeing to marry him.

Instead, she says, “Have you been carrying that everywhere with you?”

He nodded, laughing. “We share the same room! You would’ve found it if I’d left it anywhere else!”

She tilts her head slightly as she thinks for a moment, then relents with a murmur of “that’s true”, and kisses him.

They stay there for what feels like forever. There’s still more work to be done before they can truly consider the galaxy “saved”, but this, this is a start.

This is the beginning of their life after the war. And Poe couldn’t be happier.

[sit-down-and-shut-up]

after the war- p. dameron

warnings: none

words: 1479

summary: you’re a resistance fighter in a relationship with a certain pilot in the battle of exegol. fluffy fluffy

After the war, he’d promised you that the two of you (and BB-8, of course) would have a nice, quiet life somewhere. Yavin, maybe. It would be just you three. Safe and happy.

 But now, he’s staring down legion upon legion of Star Destroyers and thinking that he’ll never see her again, never get an “after the war”, until he hears crackling through his headset, and her voice, sounding small and distant, saying, “Poe?”

The thought that he’s never heard genuine fear in her voice before sets in, and stays there, making itself nice and comfortable.

“Y/N.” His voice wavers, but he musters all the courage he has left- it’s not much, considering the hell they’ve gone through to get here- to sound okay, for her. This is suicide, they both know it, but neither of them want their last memory of each other to be this: a dark sky marked by the Star Destroyers representing the opposite of everything they’re about to give their lives to fight for. “I love you baby. And after this is done, I’m gonna get you that pet you always wanted.”

“Yeah?” She responds, trying to hold back the sobs that threaten to consume her, the sadness that wraps its bony fingers around her ankles, trying to pull her down, down, down. “I bet you don’t even remember what animal I wanted.”

“Does it matter? They’re all gross money-wasters,” Poe jokes, but it lacks the laughter his voice usually holds. He hopes she doesn’t notice.

She laughs, but it’s a broken laugh, cut into pieces by fading hope for a future with him. “I suppose I should get a droid instead, Dameron?”

He nods, and then realizes she can’t see him. If he squints, he can make out her body next to Finn, and he thinks that this isn’t what she deserves, nobody so perfect should have to die like this.

Her thoughts mirror his as she looks towards his x-wing. 

“I love you, General Poe Dameron.”

“I love you too, General Y/N Dameron.”

She doesn’t correct him, doesn’t tell him, we’re not married, idiot like she usually does. He remembers that he never got to propose as he zips around, shooting wildly and praying to whatever higher being there may be that she makes it out alive. Even if he dies, he just wants his girl to make it out alive. He can hear grunts through the headpiece as she fights to make it to the navigation signal she and Finn are trying to destroy. He doesn’t say anything; he knows there’s nothing he can say. There’s too many words billowing through his brain, and none of them are good enough for what he wants to tell her, for the love he wants to describe. He wants to tell her the moment he first knew he would marry her someday, when he saw her playing hide-and-seek with BB-8 in their shared quarters. But there’s no words for what he wants to say, so he settles for silence. And he hopes that she knows all he wishes he could say. After a few seconds of quiet, R2-D2 chirps, and he knows it’s something for her to hear. She was taken in by Leia Organa after her parents’ death, and was best friends with R2 for years.

+++++

Down below, BB-8 beeps sadly, and all you can say to the little droid is, “He knows.”

+++++

Poe is trying his best to keep a brave face- but it’s starting to fail. Until, that is, Lando Calrissian swoops in like the hotshot he is, with a huge band of Resistance sympathizers in tow. Poe whoops in delight, and down below she winces from the loud yelling in her earpiece. 

“Thanks for the free migraine,” she says, but can’t keep herself from smiling. She’s bruised and bloodied, but even so, she thinks that this might be the happiest she’s ever felt. The notion that she and Poe might still have the life they’d whisper about after midnight in bed is enough to keep her moving, even after every muscle in her body screams at her to stop, to slow down and possibly never move again. She grits her teeth, tasting blood in her mouth, and wills her body to move. Thankfully, it does, but she doesn’t know how long it can hold out for. When she thinks for a second that this is it, she’s gonna die here, Poe’s voice comes through the earpiece again, urging her on, one step at a time.

He keeps talking her through this, and deep down he knows he’s trying to instill confidence in himself, too.

They talk, back and forth, as they do their respective jobs, until out of nowhere, lightning lights up the sky and Poe can hear her screams as his ship is blasted by lightning, causing him to fall down, faster and faster, until the electricity stops, and he regains control of his ships while R2-D2 beeps like an angry toddler.

He allows himself to watch her, Finn, and Jannah destroy the command ship, feeling his chest swell with pride. 

After the last of the Star Destroyers have been destroyed, and Rey returns, bringing news of her grandfather’s death, Poe lands his x-wing on the desolate planet and runs towards his friends, his orange suit making that annoying plasticy sound as he does. Finn calls to him, but he runs past him and gathers her in a bear hug, lifting her off the ground, until she yelps in pain. Setting her down gently, he notices a large gash on her thigh, and he curses as he unzips the top of his suit so he can rip his shirt sleeve and tie it over the cut.

“We did it,” he says, looking up into her eyes from where he’s kneeling in front of her to tie the makeshift tourniquet, too happy for a sarcastic remark.

“We did it,” she agrees, placing one hand on his shoulder to help her balance. Around them, their friends give each other hugs as they board ships to return to the Resistance base, until all that’s left is the two of them, R2-D2, and Poe’s ship. He helps her into the cockpit, and pushes his seat as far back as it can go so that she can sit in his lap on the way to the base. All of a sudden, he’s hit with the memory of his friend Snap, dying in front of him, and his voice trembles as he says, “Snap.”

He doesn’t need to finish the sentence. She knows.

She moves her arm so that it’s looped around Poe’s, and rubs her thumb across his suit reassuringly. 

They’re at the base relatively quickly, and everyone in sight is rejoicing. People dance, sing, kiss, and run around like lunatics, jumping with ecstasy.

Poe helps her out, looping an arm under hers and around her back to help support her weight. He turns with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes- one she knows all too well- and says, “Don’t want to be the odd ones out, right?” just before kissing her, and he swears that he died, back on Exegol, and this is heaven. Holding you is heaven. 

He kisses her, over and over, until he can’t breathe and he wonders if his lips are tinged blue by now from lack of oxygen, and when he finally pulls away, he asks: “So how about that life I promised you?”

“I don’t know,” she responds, flaunting a coy smile and raised eyebrow. “I might need a little more convincing.”

Poe turns so that she’s directly in front of him, and then drops to one knee. “Is this enough incentive?” he asks, as he pulls out a small, scratched box from the pocket of his suit.

She gasps and her eyes tear up, and he smiles as she nods and throws her arms around his neck, wincing a bit as she lowers herself to the ground because of her leg injury. He flicks the box open, and pulls out the ring nestled inside, and slips it onto her finger. Suddenly, she pulls back, and Poe’s brain stops, thinking she’s going to break up with him right after agreeing to marry him.

Instead, she says, “Were you carrying that everywhere with you?”

He nodded, laughing. “We share the same room! You would’ve found it if I’d left it anywhere else!”

She tilts her head slightly as she thinks for a moment, then relents with a murmur of “that’s true”, and kisses him.

They stay there for what feels like forever. There’s still more work to be done before they can truly consider the galaxy “saved”, but this, this is a start.

This is the beginning of their life after the war. And Poe couldn’t be happier.

[jonthethinker]

Does the Cerberus Assembly need to be reformed, or destroyed? And can it really be either?

Let’s start with an opinion we can all agree on; Trent Ikithon sucks. He’s clearly a very bad person, and our collective hatred of him is one of the rare things this fandom seems to actually agree on. What he’s done to his “disciples” is horrifying, and his general ideology is monstrous and abhorrent, although not surprising considering the role he plays in the Empire. We can, on this, agree that the world would be a better place if he was removed from power, correct?

Now this is where I start explaining my probably very divisive opinion.

A lot of people would say that all it takes to make the Cerberus Assembly better would be to replace the members like Ikithon with Good People. Maybe Caleb Widogast, for instance. If you simply put someone with a stronger moral character into that position, then its output in turn will also be Good.

This, whether knowingly or not, implies that institutions, even those like the Cerberus Assembly, are by their nature at the very least morally neutral. That all it takes to make an institution like the Assembly be Good is have Good People run it. You do that, and with time, all is well.

But what if institutions did have a moral character? what if the responsibilities and powers given to a body like the Assembly and its requisite components are not Good or even neutral, but instead very, very bad? And what if the incentives the people deciding who stands on the Assembly, namely the members of the Assembly themselves, are actually antithetical to any ideas of a substantially reformed Assembly in the first place?

Let’s think for a minute about Trent and his job. We are all horrified by his methods of creating his Volstruckers. But as much as it bothers me, what bothers me more, personally, is what they are for. While we tend to view them as arcane assassins, what they really are is a wholly unaccountable means of performing all of the Assembly’s, and by extension the Empire’s, dirty deeds not meant for public notice. And seeing as they fall under the sole purview of the Archmage of Civil Influence, this is largely going to translate to “managing dissidence and discontent” in the polite language a body like the Assembly would use to describe its work.

What this means is that its job, and the job of Trent’s office as a whole, is to keep the wrong ideas from getting too popular and the people from getting too loud about the awfulness of their everyday lives, and inside a broader system like the Empire, this is usually going to be dealt with by means of coercion and outright violence. While it’s easy to feel sorry for the incredibly abused and tormented people under Trent’s power, like Caleb and Astrid and Eadwolf, I feel like I’m one of the few in the fandom who has really considered the true extent of terror being unleashed on so many whose faces we’ll never know.

Peasant farmers’ organizing for lower taxes on their grain sales. Laborers gathering to raise hell over the low wages they receive from mandatory state projects. Citizens concerned about the unchecked brutality of the Crown’s Guard. Religious worshipers worried the Empire is straying from the path set by their gods. The mentally ill and other people who simply don’t comfortably fit into the grand scheme of things. Races of folks seen as outsiders suspected of conflicting allegiances. How many people like this have vanished in the night, either to be imprisoned or tortured or killed, or I guess in many cases, all three? How much suffering has been caused, hidden away from any measure of accountability?

And this brings me to my next point; While Trent is truly awful, his title, and the role he plays, are also awful, and I think you don’t get into a position like that in the first place without being someone like Trent. I say this because we’ve gotten to meet a handful of people on the Assembly outside of Trent, and they’ve all generally had the same things to say about him; he gives them the creeps and they don’t like him personally, but he has his uses. I interpret this to mean he performs the responsibilities of his office well enough, and while his methods and general demeanor may be off-putting, it isn’t worth causing a fuss about so long as the work gets done. If they simply ignore what he’s doing, they get the benefits of a suppressed polity with very little of the personal hangups of what it requires to make that happen.

So let’s say, for some reason, Trent dies or is imprisoned and disgraced, and Caleb assumes his role. Caleb has experienced a remarkable amount of personal growth, although not without his own stumbles and set-backs like any victim of severe trauma such as he. He is, in my humble opinion, a Good Man. I know if given the power of this office, he’d be motivated to end the traumatizing of children, and killing of parents, and perhaps even the wholesale disbanding of the Scourgers itself. He’d maybe seek to alleviate the suffering of those his office is meant to contain instead of inflicting more pain upon them. And wouldn’t that be nice?

But when you’ve got this entrenched elite like the Empire does, those sorts of efforts are not going to go unnoticed, and in many cases, are going to cause one hell of a backlash among the powerful, who more often than not believe in their heart of hearts that those lowly commoners deserve their lot in life, and to spare the lash is to spoil the child, and soon you’ll have a bunch of peasants thinking they can go so far as to ask for actual power, actual control over the direction of their lives, and for any empire, but especially this one, how do you imagine that’s going to fly?

I’m reminded of an anecdote out of Brazilian politics. Former President Lula da Silva is one of the the most popular Brazilian political figures of all time, and managed to massively alleviate poverty in Brazil while also working with Brazil’s entrenched elite to make sure not to piss off the wealthiest of the wealthy. But the comfortably upper middle class, or “petite bourgeoisie” as Marx would call them, were disgusted that all these poor people were suddenly climbing the ladder. According to some folks, they complained “The airports are starting to look like bus stations,” because for the first time, working class people in Brazil could actually afford to fly. This discontent among the comfortable led to a chain events ending in the false arrest and imprisonment of Lula and the rise of their current terrifying president Jair Bolsonaro. I learned from this, and other tales like it, to never underestimate how angry some people will become when their special status ain’t so special anymore.

This is to say, that while Caleb is an undoubtedly brilliant man, without the potential intervention of DM magic, I don’t see someone with his lack of political savvy either holding power long or holding onto his convictions long enough to do anything meaningful, if someone like him is considered for the job in the first place. AND even if he does accomplish all those wonderful things through this office and survives until he’s old and gray, he will eventually die. And judging solely on the general quality of character among the wizards we’ve met thus far, I’m not so optimistic about his potential replacement.

This example does spill out my major beef with the whole “Good Person in power” idea of reform. Good People either can’t live up to their values and actually wield power, or the clock itself defeats them and everything they ever stood for. This is also my problem with governmental models overly dependent on norms, as all it takes is someone willing to just completely ignore them,and for the people in power around them to have no incentive to stop them, for things to completely go off the rails. This is why reforms generally don’t last unless they universally redistribute power itself, from the top to the bottom, and even this is going to come with its own backlashes, and it generally doesn’t happen from polite attempts at reform by well meaning leaders, at least not all on their own, but through the sheer force of mass movements or outright revolutions.

And its not just Trent’s office that has this problem. It’s every single seat on the Assembly. His is just a particularly egregious example. Vess DeRogna didn’t get her job by being polite, of that much I’m sure. She’s clever, devious, and patient, not to mention her skill set and interests directly line her up for the role as Archmage of Antiquity. I don’t really think her sole interest is making sure nobody gets hurt by all these artifacts lying around, and neither do I imagine the Empire itself has any intention of keeping her discoveries behind lock and key; they pretty clearly want them mass produced where they can and immediately wielded against their enemies, both foreign and domestic.

And I’ve hinted at this earlier, but if you think Trent is a unique monster in the halls of Dwendalian mages, I’m going to have to disagree. I’m certain there are more than a few wizards in service of the Assembly and the Empire, who if not already believing similarly to Trent, could easily be convinced of his convictions, and ready to use his power themselves in an eerily identical manner. People like Trent aren’t as rare as we’d like them to be, and they’re all ready to grab power just as soon as they can.

So it would seem I come firmly on the “burn it all down” side of things. If only I believed it were that simple.

You see, I see the Cerberus Assembly as an institution that exists, in its entirety, for the cementing of power of the Dwendalian Elite and the progression of its interests. It protects them from threats both from inside and out, it teaches their children magic, it helps negotiate its trade, it aids in putting food on its table, and makes sure its armed for bear with the deadliest of magic only the Age of Arcanum and ancient elves could provide. It’s very reason for existence is to uphold the way of life for those on top. Even if it competes idly for who sits at the head of the table, it very much is invested in maintaining the structure of that table.

So if it were sundered and destroyed as an institution, what is to stop its functions from simply being absorbed by the broader Empire? What’s to stop the Empire from simply recreating the Volstrucker program under a different name? What’s stopping them from hiring its wizards to perform their original tasks, just under the sole discretion of the king? So I’d wager the problem isn’t the Assembly, but the very distribution of power required to maintain an Empire like Dwendal’s in the first place. The assembly is an immoral institution upholding a much larger, equally immoral institution. And you can’t truly solve the problem without tearing the whole damn thing down.

Do I think this campaign is going to be one in which our lovely players start a revolution? Hell no. I expect Trent at least to die or be deposed, and with the aid of some DM magic, things will get a little better. But Matt has given enough consideration to the political forces present in his world building, that I wanted to treat his world as if it were subject solely to the forces and motivations our own is. Just to see how things could turn out without a generally kind god like Matthew Mercer at the helm.

Plus I just really love trying to understand how fantasy political structures would really work. It’s usually a lot less depressing than real political structures, at least in so far as there are no real consequences for their abject failures. But I’ve rambled long enough. Thank you to the poor souls who read this ramble. You’re truly wonderful.