#gifts being the less relevant one

[inukag]

『 INUKAG WEEK 2023 』  ➥ Day #1: Love Languages

[schtrawberry]

[4] personal astrology observations

[!] this is mostly an introspective view into my chart; in no way, shape, or form am i saying that any of this is fact or set in stone, nor am i saying that i am a professional astrologer. these are just presences that exist within my chart that i've felt manifest themselves in real life. simply put, take what resonates and leave what doesn't :)

─ having your moon and ascendant in the same sign 🤝🏽 having every single emotion flash on your face, clear as day, at all times

═ sun in the tenth house 🤝🏽 indicator of doing well in your career or being able to advance in your career more easily than others

☰ on that note, mercury in the tenth house can also indicate being able to advance in your career because of the way you speak or how well you speak in a professional setting. individuals with this sign can also be recognized in the workplace for how well they speak and communicate.

☱ individuals with moon in twelth house may find themselves dwelling in the past more than most. the feeling of nostalgic makes them both happy and sad at the same time.

[personally, this manifests itself in me being able to constantly go back to specific moments in my life where i could've made a different choice, where i could've said yes to a specific opportunity, where my split decision could've prevented something monumental in my life from happening, and just overthinking the hell about how different my current situation would be if i did or did not. lots of angst and nostalgia in this sign tbh. it's hard, i know.]

☲ having moon negatively aspecting venus can indicate a late-bloomer in relationships. one might be more likely to find themselves in a serious relationship much later in life compared to others. this may be because the individual could be less likely to pursue romance on their own and would rather be approached first by a potential love interest.

[i can personally attest to this. at the ripe old age of 23, i have never been in a relationship before (or even a fling). from personal experience, i find that this is mostly out of fear of rejection (maybe coupled with my fear of being known but who really knows).]

☴ the taurus juno urge to show love and care through cooking— whether they're good at it or not. be it making their loved one breakfast in the morning, buying them a thoughtful snack or baking them their favorite dessert; a taurus juno is intrinsically tied to food in how they express their dedication and commitment to the one's they love most.

☳ a few asteroid notes:

note: asteroids are less impactful to one's personality, physicality, etc. compared to personal planets. they tend to only be relevant to one's chart if they are either in a tight orb (0-1°) or have major aspects to personal planets, preferably conjunctions or oppositions.

✢ kalliope (22), known as the chief of all muses, goddess of eloquence, and muse of epic poetry is the eldest of the nine muses. her name translates to "beautiful-voiced" from the greek words "kallos" and "ops". having this prominent in one's chart can indicate being known for having a beautiful voice, whether it be in terms of singing, public speaking, or just in general. someone that can attract positive attention from others simply through their voice, even to the point of possibly becoming someone's muse for it.

✢ [tw: r***] peitho (118), the personified spirit of seduction, persuasion, and charming speech, was the handmaiden and herald of the goddess aphrodite. interestingly, one striking depiction of peitho is of her fleeing from the scene of a r***. she was known to protect women from r*** and was known to flee from scenes of r*** when she was unable to intervene. peitho’s gift was pleasure for words and bodies, and she would be enraged when such pleasure was violated in any way.

i feel that this energy, when prominent in one's chart, can manifest itself in a girl's girl— a protector of women and advocate for consent. and while this observation does lean into the darker side of peitho, on the lighter end, this energy does also stand for using one's gift in speech and voice to seduce and charm others whilst also using it to stand up for women in unconsenting situations with men.

[`] film: love & pop (1998) dir. hideaki anno

last / next

[fangedhorizon]

I absolutely love the idea that Claudia’s actress change between s1 and s2 is also because of Louis as an unreliable narrator. While yes, it can be said that it was due to Bailey Bass going to work for avatar, I think it also does wonders for the story.

Through the interview, Louis is beginning to piece his memories into a more full, coherent picture. He is losing some of the bias from emotion and inconsistency from memory as he relives his past. Therefore, the change of Claudia between seasons could still be relevant for the plot.

In the first season, Bass’ Claudia looks more like their child. Of course, interracial couples can have kids of all different shades (I am mixed myself), but it’s interesting to consider this Claudia as an unreliable construction within his memory. This Claudia, the one he reminisces during his ‘golden years’ before everything went downhill, looks like she could be their love child if biology allowed it.

As the fruit of the disaster that is them, the peeling band aid holding together a dying marriage, it wouldn’t surprise me that Louis remembers Claudia as looking like both him and Lestat. She is both the best and worst parts of them, sharing a mental connection with Louis (literally) and an emotional one from his coddling. Yet, she inherently acts like Lestat as well. Much to Claudia’s dissatisfaction, she cannot escape his likeliness, cannot help but think like him. She uses this to her advantage at the end of season one, but knows he will return because of Louis’ fragility.

After being turned while grieving Paul, all Louis knows how to do is love, and protect. But he cannot protect Claudia from her fate, which Lestat tries to tell him. By possibly envisioning her as a more traditional mix of the two of them, perhaps Louis is trying to offload some of the blame and guilt to Lestat, while simultaneously knowing subconsciously that he still played a major role in her doomed existence. Claudia is the byproduct of two broken hearts desperately trying to heal, which the dark gift does not allow.

It was never about her.

In the second season, she resembles him more as he comes to terms with his involvement in her death. Or, she has taken on a less biased appearance as Louis becomes less unreliable. Or, the memories are so vivid that no amount of self-preservation could alter her, leaving Louis’ guilt to construct her image. Perhaps he sees himself in her, or sees his family in her, sees Paul in her. He couldn’t save her, just like he couldn’t save Paul.

His nurturing nature within his retelling is thrown into question as he experiences neither her birth nor death, yet Lestat witnesses both. Louis is blinded by his pain, the ache left in his heart from his inability to protect, whilst Lestat must watch as the child he loved and detested (not in equal parts, I will die on the hill that Lestat loved Claudia in his own fucked up way, one that he learnt from Magnus’ torture) be birthed without her consent and die without her consent.

He must watch on as his fledgling achieves what he never could - true love. He must watch her sing, still serving a performative function in her last moments. She is nail glue for their dying relationship, then she’s a crowbar from a shitty marriage, she is a weapon to protect Louis from the world and himself, only to be a doll, positioned on stage as the crowd puppeteers her demise.

Claudia was never her true self in Louis’ retelling, nor will she be in Lestat’s. Even in death, Claudia only serves a function for storytelling, unable to give us her side of the story. But how could she?

It was never. about. her.

[yesimwriting]

pleaseee write smth about that fight between Felix and reader

a/n i've been thinking about this scene for days so when i saw this ask i got so hyped

warnings: reader being AFAB/female is plot relevant (reader's father has always wanted a son), implied emotional/financial parental abuse (not described in too much detail), potentially inaccurate portrayal of early-ish 2000's phones bc i was a toddler during their oxford era, hurt/comfort

we're getting into reader's background!!

itallic texts = from felix, bold texts = from reader

There's a scratch embedded into the dark mahogany. It's small, no wider than something you could make with your finger nail.

"How's your food?"

Your attention shifts towards the ceramic plate that's almost covering the dining table's only blemish. "It's good," you mumble with a slight nod, fork instinctually jabbing at a piece of food without you even looking at it. "Yours?"

"Great," he hums casually, cutting into his steak. "Part of the reason I picked this hotel is because of the restaurant. The visiting chef's a guy that I met in New York when he was looking into financing an international expansion of his franchise."

You bring your utensil to your lips. "That's cool, daddy."

The comment only strengthens the question that's been silently ebbing at your mind since your father first suggested lunch. Why did he order room service instead of taking you to the hotel's restaurant? Your dad has always loved the ambiance, the leisure of sitting in a nice restaurant.

"Is that why you're in town?" You reach for your glass, taking a sip of your drink before continuing. "To finalize something with the chef?"

He sets down his knife. "That and a few other business arrangements that needed to be checked on." He pauses, shoulders relaxing. "And to see you, too, Ace. It feels like it's been awhile since we talked."

Your lips quirk into what's almost a smile. When your father called to let you know that he'd be staying near Oxford for work and that he wanted you to visit, you had been apprehensive at first. Your mother was cautiously supportive of the idea.

Things with your father have been relatively stable recently. He liked the way no university seemed off limits to you with your grades and extracurriculars. He loved the idea of a daughter studying abroad at Oxford (which, is part of the reason you seriously considered Princeton for some time). And he's been drinking less. Part of that whole reborn, second marriage to a late-20-something methodist thing.

"Yeah, dad," you agree, as sincerely as you can manage, "It's been awhile."

"You know I'm friends with one of your deans." He doesn't give you a chance to reply. "We had coffee together, and he told me you're on track to finish in the top 10%." Rumors about the top percentages had been circling around Oxford for the past month. Still, it's relieving to know. "Congratulations, Ace."

This time, your smile meets your eyes. "Thanks."

He smiles, a flash of something practiced and charming. "When I get home, the first thing I'm doing is picking out a gift to send to you."

"If you need time, you can always wait and give it to me over the summer."

The infamous summer. Your mother is going to be spending most of the summer volunteering for an organization that brings counseling to children that have survived traumatic experiences but can't affording therapy. Your father suggested that you stay with him for a little while so that you wouldn't have to spend an entire two months in an empty house.

He stretches an arm like he wants to pick up his fork, but decides against it. "I--I want to tell you something." His tone is softer now, almost hesitant. "But you have to promise not to cry."

You try to swallow around the lump in your throat, body familiar with the command. "Okay?"

"I don't know if this summer's going to work out the way we talked about." He taps his fingers against the surface of the table. Your eyes lock on the scratch marring the wood. "Things have gotten complicated."

"Complicated?"

Your father sighs. "I'm sure you've noticed Christine's not here." You can't bring yourself to react at the mention of your step-mother's name. "She isn't in--she isn't in the best condition to travel." The tapping continues. "Christine's pregnant. She's due in early June, and she isn't having an easy time. I think it'd be best to not do anything that could potentially be stressful."

Oh.

"It's a boy."

Oh. A boy. With his perfect wife, in his perfect penthouse on the Upper East Side. Of course. Of fucking course.

You can't breathe right or thing of the way you're supposed to react. All you can do is stare at the scratch. At the only thing that indicates that anything bad has ever happened to the table.

"You promised you wouldn't cry." The words feel far. "You look too much like your mother when you cry."

That seems to force you back to earth. Any and all reminders of your mother must be eradicated in his presence. "I know. I'm not going to cry." You blink once, hand moving to wipe away tears you refuse to let spill. "Congratulations."

He's quiet for a moment, pressing his lips together, before finally settling on a perfunctory, "Thank you." After a beat of silence, he continues, "Were you planning on staying tonight? I was thinking of flying back early, but I can--"

"Oh, no," you shake your head once, "I actually have a lot of homework, so it's probably better for me to get back."

Your father nods, "Always the academic, Ace." He pushes his seat back. "If you're done eating, I can walk you to the lobby and have my driver take you back."

"Yeah," you push back your own seat and stand, "Sounds good."

The two of you reach the front doors of the suite. "Hey," your father starts, "Why don't you travel this summer? That's all I did during college breaks. I'll pay so you can do it up right. You should go somewhere with a friend. Paris, maybe. You two always had fun as kids."

You nod once, trying to keep your expression neutral. "Yeah, daddy, I'll ask Paris about what she's doing this summer."

"Good." He pauses at the door, reaching into the pocket of his slacks. He pulls out his wallet and counts out a few bills. "Here. A pre-gift." You hesitate. "C'mon, top 10%."

Your mother's voice rings in your ears. He won't change, you might as well take the money. You stretch out a hand, forcing a smile as you take the cash. "Thanks."

----

Stupid. You're so fucking stupid.

You really thought you'd be there all weekend. You really thought Christine would let you into her home for longer than a day or two.

And the pregnancy thing? That--that's going to get back to your mom in one way or another if you don't tell her. And hearing that, hearing that your dad's finally getting his son is going to kill her.

It's all you've been thinking about since you got back yesterday afternoon. After mumbling a halfhearted explanation to your roommate, you changed into some pajama shorts and a giant T-shirt that you only realized was Felix's after the fact and crawled into bed. You've moved as little as possible since.

Something near the foot of your bed buzzes, snapping you back to the present. You flip the phone open, immediately noticing three text notifications. From Felix.

hope ur weekend's going better than mine

lovie

i feel abandoned

Despite your angst, you smile to yourself before sending a response: it's been one day.

After a minute, there's another text on your screen: so it's a crime to miss u. You roll your eyes, fondness pooling in your stomach. how are u doing.

The second question, though sincere, forces you to spiral. You want to be honest. You don't lie to Felix and he doesn't lie to you.

But, everything comes with exceptions, and making sure no one finds out how tense things actually are with your dad is yours. Before you two got close, it felt too private, and once you finally did, a few comments from Felix's friends made you feel like the worst thing you could do for your friendship was let him see any kind of darkness.

It's not that he'd judge you, he'd just want to help you so badly that it'd take over everything else. Farleigh's made it clear that Felix loves a charity case. And you don't want to be that. You won't let your dad take that from you, either.

You want to say that you're fine, maybe text a comment about things being a little awkward because it's no secret that your mom took care of you after the divorce. But lying about being on campus feels like something that could easily morph into something else.

Felix, who actually has enough of a social life to pull sleazy moves like that never has. i'm sick. came home early.

ur back!

why didn't u tell me

i'm sick, can't hang out

are u ok

do u need anything

Guilt prods at you. You've been texting him on and off since yesterday and never mentioned that you came back early. Felix is always so good to you. But, you're in no place to see him. no just need rest

You shut your phone. You're not sure that saying you're sick is enough to keep Felix away all weekend, but it could be enough to keep him away tonight. It's Saturday night. He'll have plans.

And tomorrow, you'll feel better. More stable.

"I have some time before I'm supposed to go to Jake's. I stole some bread from the dining hall." Nadia's offer is gentle. "Do you want to go feed the ducks?"

You wipe at your face. "That's a really nice offer, Nadia, but I'm feeling a little sick. Maybe when you get back?"

She frowns. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," you mumble, "I just need some sleep."

"You've been sleeping on and off since yesterday afternoon." Nadia hesitates, eyes darting towards the bathroom. She does need to start getting ready for her date. "Maybe you can call Felix later? It's Saturday night, you know there's some terribly exclusive, not meant for any of us ordinaries party he's dying to take you to."

The attempt at humor is enough to get you to roll onto your side. "Since when do you like Felix?"

To be fair, Nadia's never disliked Felix. Before you became friends with him, she had a bit of a crush on him in that way that all freshmen girls at Oxford do. After you started hanging out with him all the time, that crush turned into an awareness that fueled her worry. She's always implied her concern that he'd eventually hurt you.

"I've never not liked him," she mumbles, "I was just scared he'd break your heart, but, the last couple of times he's come over...something about the way he looks at you."

"So you finally accepted we're just friends?"

She walks towards the bathroom, "Didn't say that."

You roll your eyes, letting yourself rest on your back. You shut your eyes, trying to force out any thoughts of the outside world as you drift off.

The familiar creek of the hinges of your room's door pulls you back to reality slowly.

"Took you long enough." Nadia's voice. "All she does is sleep and mope. She didn't even want to go feed the ducks today."

"She loves feeding the ducks." Another familiar, much more moving voice. You manage to move, wiping at your eyes as you sit up.

"I know!"

You finally sit up, blinking your eyes as your vision adjusts. Felix. He's standing in near the foot of your bed. "Felix--I-I told you I'm fine. Just a little sick."

"Nadia called and told me the opposite."

You turn your head to glare at you roommate, who doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed. "You stole my phone and called him?"

"I had to," she defends. "All you do is sleep and cry, and you've been like this since you came back yesterday."

Felix's expression drops as soon as the final word comes out. Your eyes widen, head shaking as subtly as possible as if a too late warning will erase the sentence from existence.

"Wait," his voice is softer than you've ever heard it, "You've been back since yesterday and you didn't tell me?"

You swallow, unable to look away from Felix.

"I--I have to go." Nadia's announcement breaks through the stiff silence. "I'll be back sometime tomorrow, so um..." She turns away, swinging an overnight bag over her shoulder before disappearing out the door. You can't blame her for running out as soon as possible.

"Felix," your voice is low, gravely, "Darling."

"Don't." His eyebrows pinch together, sadness tinging his expression. It doesn't fit him. "Why--why wouldn't you tell me you were here?"

You sit up a little straighter, wiping at your eyes with the back of your palm. "I told you I'm sick. I'm not up for anything right now."

Felix is still watching you with that kicked puppy look. "That doesn't--" He cuts himself off with a sigh. "You know I don't care if you don't want to do anything. We can--we can just sit or-or talk, or read or--do nothing." Felix presses his lips together, "I thought you knew that."

You know he's right, and that makes it harder to look at him. Felix would have been a sweetheart about it. He would have let you mope, cry even, and he would've spent the entire time holding you. It should have been easy to tell Felix, instinctual...and yet...

Your eyes briefly shut. "I do." The admission's painful to get out. Some of your hesitation was over the way Felix reacts to tragedy, but the rest is something more personal. Telling Felix would have solidified it. Would have made that label of 'abandoned child' that you've always been so wary about permanent. "It's more than that."

"Then what is it?"

Sighing, you push yourself to the edge of your bed. "My head hurts, I need a Tylenol."

Your words and movements are drowsy as you push yourself to stand. Felix takes a partial step forward before forcing himself to freeze into place. It's hard not to help you.

"Then what is it?"

You push open the bathroom door. "I don't--I don't know." It's a weak attempt at dismissing the conversation before things go to a place that you can't handle right now. "I couldn't get the words out." Still can't.

You find the pill bottle you were looking for on the bathroom counter and start working at twisting off the childproof cap. "We tell each other everything eventually." His voice is dry, almost hesitant. "At least, I do. We trust each other."

Your eyes shut as you sigh, fingers briefly releasing the top of the bottle. "Maybe that's not trust. Maybe that's your life being so perfect there's nothing you need to keep secret."

The words come out in a rush, angry and sharp. Regret floods through you instantly. "I'm sorry."

"No." The syllable is hard. "No. You're not. Don't do that. Don't--don't start saying what you think I need to hear--or keeping in what you think I don't." There's a concerned anger there, an unfitting combination that you don't have the energy to decode. "What could be so bad you can't tell me? We know about Ollie's parents and that didn't change anything, did it?"

Actually, things did change a little. Oliver's broken home life seemed to only make Felix want to pull Oliver into his world even more. You hate thinking it, because it's insensitive and a little mean, but of course Oliver was willing to give Felix all the gritty details.

After the initial implications came out, Felix devoured them with the same silver spoon that was placed in his mouth at birth. In a way, Felix's desire to fix and ease pain brought them closer together. And it probably means more to Oliver coming from Felix than anyone else.

But your relationship with Felix is different. You don't want sadness and coddling to be what makes you feel certain in your bond with Felix. You want things to stay the same. You don't want to give your dad anyway to change one of the most important connections in your life.

"You have a big heart, Felix, and I love that about you." Your hand reaches for the Tylenol again. "But I don't want you helping me to become all that I am to you. I don't want to be a charity case." You squeeze your eyes shut, cringing at your wording. "And--and I'm not trying to say that Ollie's just a charity case, it's that--some stuff Farleigh's said and--" Tears are pricking the edge of your vision.

"You're more than that," he scoffs the words out like it's ridiculous he even has to say that, "Of course you're more than that, I thought you knew." He scoffs. "I--I don't just wait around for people."

You scoff, the sound almost a bitter laugh. "Oh--so now it's not about trust, it's about your ego. That I don't just sit around next to my phone, waiting for the Felix Catton to call me."

Felix takes a step forward, "It's not about that!" You raise your eyebrows, uncertainty leaving you frozen. Felix has never yelled at you before. "...It's not about that," he repeats, voice a more acceptable volume. He takes another step forward, his fingers finding your forearm. "You know how I meant it."

There's a tension in the way he's touching your arm. It's nothing harsh, if anything it's almost too soft. Hesitant. He's watching you with an intensity that pins you into place more than his actual hold.

You wouldn't be surprised by his anger, you're not even sure you'd be able to blame him for it, but that's not what you see when you look at him. You can't exactly read the look behind his eyes, but something about it reminds you of Nadia's earlier comment.

It's heavy. Too heavy for you to think about tonight. That's how Felix is. He's intense. All consuming. When all you do is blink at him, he lets go of your arm.

"Felix."

His eyes dart towards the ground, body angling itself away from you.

It's subtle, and not a direct dismissal, but after everything that's already happened, it's enough to serve as a final nail hammered into your chest. "I don't want things to change between us." You sigh, finally getting the pill bottle's lid to pop off. "Because I'm fine."

You force a smile, but there's a tightness to your features that makes it feel like a grimace. "It's not a big deal. So my dad asked me not to come home this summer, because his wife's pregnant and he doesn't want to 'stress her out'. I'm fine." You can feel the tears welling in your eyes. "Y'know it's a b-oy." Your voice cracks on the last word, a laugh or maybe a sob interrupting the single syllable. "So um...good for him, he's finally getting his son."

Felix is watching you cautiously, expression not quite sympathetic, but not relaxed either. "Oh my god, I have to tell my mom. And it--it's going to kill her." You gasp the words like the realization's just hit you, even though it's been on your mind since the beginning. "I don't know why I said that like I'm surprised--because I--" You laugh, the sound shrill and uneasy, "But it's whatever. I'm fine."

You nod once, as if that'll be enough to make you feel fine. Another sound comes out, this one a lot closer to a whimper. "I'm fine. I don't know why I'm being so dramatic. I'm fine. I'm--" You squeeze your arms around your waist, supporting yourself the way Felix usually would.

You're crying openly now, tears blinding you. This is pathetic. You need to get it together.

You're pulled forward with no warning, your body hitting something solid and warm. Felix.

His arms around you, firm and supportive. It's surprising enough to force a full breath of air into your lungs. For a moment, all there is Felix. You inhale again, and again, doing your best to hold the air in your lungs.

Felix's hand smooths circles against your back. He whispers soothing words that you can barely make out. Between that and the even rhythm of his heart, you manage to ground yourself.

"You don't have to be nice to me right now," you mumble into his shirt. "I was really mean to you."

He continues to trace patterns against your spine. "We don't have to talk about that right now."

"I know," you whisper, "I just--I don't want you to feel like you can't be mad at me."

He gently smooths your hair away from your face. "Can I be mad from right here?"

"Yeah." You sniffle once, letting your chin press into his chest so that you can look up at him. "If you want to."

"Then okay," he mumbles, knuckles running up and down the length of your spine, "I'll be mad from right here."

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny

[skay-ali]

The forgotten daughter

Pain, you felt a lot of pain... Your whole body was hating you at this moment, perhaps the bad karma of your entire short life was taking its toll.

You were trying to get air and more strength, you had to follow the nurses' orders.

You hated this, the pain didn't stop, it became less and less bearable. You wanted to numb your entire body and pain, like you did before, when you went to any party and let yourself be carried away by it, taking whatever appeared in front of you, to no longer feel pain, to forget that you were alone...

But now, when all your pain stopped, when loud whimpers sounded in your ears.

At the moment the nurses placed a new being, bathed in a liquid and other things, a being that accompanied you for almost a year in your solitude, the small ray of light that rested peacefully in your arms, as if you were the only thing in the world. world that this little being needed.

You cried, not because of pain, you had already done it a lot, not now you did it because you had someone in your life, someone who would always need you, a little person who would never ignore you, who would not leave you because you are not relevant in his life, you knew she would love you, now you had a family.

You were right, it was the first time you did it.

Your little baby, the ray of light that illuminated your world full of lack of control and emptiness, was the same one that did not let you leave his side for any moment, who looked at you with eyes full of adoration, for a long time until you fell exhausted in the world of dreams.

Today was one of those days, where nothing special happened in your life but still, you saw it as one of the best you ever lived, even if it was just you and your little baby in a lonely house, it was wonderful.

The sun was shining, the birds were singing sweetly, your baby smiled every time you talked to her and had your eyes on her, she moved one of her toys with her little hands, lying in her crib.

You didn't expect things to change in a big way that day.

First a knock on the door... and suddenly.

A man you haven't seen in a while, a great friend of yours, your family... he came back still with a haggard appearance and lifeless eyes.

You took him inside your house quickly, you began to care for him the best you could, if he continued on that path he could reach his end.

You gave him food and tried to make him rest, but he could only watch the baby sleeping in the crib, his gaze stopped for a moment on your little daughter's toy, a teddy bear that looked like a little cow.

“that's not…”

“Yes, it's Alicia's toy... she gave it to me one day as a gift for the baby.” You sat down next to him.

"ahhh.. always kind and selfless with her actions... even if that was the only thing she had left as a memory of our parents" the voice of the low-level man, it no longer had much power, it became weak.

“If she was always like this… you know she was the most excited about my pregnancy” a weak smile appeared on your lips.

“yes... even if you don't believe it deep down inside her, she wanted to get married and start her own family…. But now” he stopped, some tears ran down his eyes, after that he couldn't stop..

You didn't either, you also missed your best friend, the girl with whom you always shared secrets, with whom you did the craziest actions and the girl to whom you could tell all your feelings without her judging you.

You saw him cry, sitting next to him you hugged him trying to comfort him... with some tears in your eyes.

You knew that pain, you felt it when you thought your younger brother had died, but it was different, he would no longer see his sister breathing again and living again, he only had a grave to remember her.

“___... ___ … I can't continue like this” you agreed with his words, you ran your arms along his back trying to support him.

“I must avenge her... I must make sure her death is not for nothing, I will make them suffer like I did” you stopped your hand, that... that was not what you were thinking.

“no..hey..I don't think so”

“You may not like the idea, but listen to me…” the boy looked into your eyes, even if they were red.

“I was lost since her funeral, alone even though you all tried to be with me, full of anger, but seeing your Christmas letter with the picture of little Alice... I... I couldn't stop thinking what if something bad happened but this time with you, or with your little daughter, whom Alicia adored even before she was born” the small conversation full of sadness ended, starting with something deeper, it scared you to think about the point that the man next to you wanted to get to.

"Evil will always be surrounding us, we can't do anything... but we can prevent people from committing acts of evil." His melancholic state changed, a more determined voice came out of him.

“stop... don't even continue... what you're going to say isn't good” even with your hands tangling your hair, trying to calm yourself down, it was impossible.

“We must put an end to the villains.”

You sighed, even if you hadn't exercised, nor did you have a feeling of illness... you were still tired.

Seeing not only one man, but another sitting at your table... it was exhausting... you were just lost in your thoughts, while they talked about their new ideals with great interest.

You didn't trust what they said, it was dangerous, plus your morals would be at stake, you would hurt innocent people... you didn't want to do that, since you can remember you have been a coward, you would never stop being one.

“I don't think we should do this” you looked up at the men, they left their conversation behind just to listen to what you were saying.

“Come on___, this is something big, we will get rid of the criminals who have done nothing but take away our happiness, not only that we will stop living in fear that in a moment a crazy psychopath will threaten us or our loved ones, even if It's just one of their silly cat and mouse games with a hero” the new man who arrived at your house a few hours later, the man who also lost his beloved to a psychopath.

“He's right, we have something in our hands that will improve humanity once and for all, without the heroes showing up and claiming to be saving us.” Alicia's brother Nick defended the plan they were trying to get you to accept.

"Also, most of the time the heroes are as guilty as the villains, with their games for not getting rid of their threat from the beginning, they are guilty for creating villains and don't make me mention how they bring their enemies to the cities in Instead of solving it in their own homes, it is not fair that we are dragged along by their problems as well.”

The speech, that left you thinking, even when the men left, they left a card for you, a number and address.

You thought about the possibilities of doing it, joining them, over and over again you considered it, it was time to put things in order, but their plans were not exactly something you agreed with.

Hurting people, taking their lives from them, for their crimes, that was not fair, no one should judge that, you thought more about seeing them suffer, rot in one place until their last breath.

That was never possible, they always found a way to escape their sentence, to create chaos again.

It was supposed to be a happy day, you were supposed to be enjoying your daughter, dressing her in the most beautiful clothes you could find, singing her lullabies or telling her a story, although you knew very well that she couldn't understand you, you liked doing it, playing with your baby's toys, while she looked at you with her big eyes and smiled when you looked at her, use the television as background noise to liven up the atmosphere a little.

There was great happiness around you, but a small feeling invaded you until it became impossible, you were not enough, you did not deserve what you were experiencing, you had not done much to deserve it, they would take it away from you at some point, in front of your eyes, You would suffer a lot, again, just like when your mother left.

The woman who said she loved you, but left you, you were afraid that you would do the same with your daughter, leave her and make her suffer, that she would spend a life full of loneliness.

Soledad, you felt that, again, how stupid you were, how could you feel it when you had your dear daughter by your side, were you a bad person? If you were, you have always known, you don't deserve anything you have now, that's why your children were miserable.

No.. it wasn't miserable, in fact, you were lucky, you were just a spoiled child throwing a tantrum.

And now you cry, you shed tears like an innocent soul, what a bad person you were, crying in front of a baby, just for your life, one that was better than most children in almost all parts of the world.

You were disgusted.

You were scared, scared that everything would end, you deserved to be alone, but just thinking about it scared you.

You took the card.

After thinking about it very carefully, after leading a life in a spiral, you were no longer going to continue like this, you were going to change it and everything around you too.

“Hello guys... I've thought about it and I'm in.” Your tone of confidence was evident, your voice did not waver or tremble, you were going to do it, you would change your life.

“First introduce yourself” a serious voice surrounded you.

You were a little restless, the room you were in was cold, the disturbing synods of the machines upset you, the devices you had on were also uncomfortable.

“My name is ___” you said a few minutes later.

“Why are you here?”

“Are you seriously going to ask these unnecessary questions” you questioned the man who was on the other side of the room, using a speaker to communicate.

“It is necessary, part of the procedure, so that it is recorded that you are giving your consent” You sighed when you heard it, you don't know if you're doing the right thing, what if something bad happens... on the other hand, if this helps you improve, you'll do it, you can't continue in such a self-destructive spiral, harming yourself and your daughter.

And if by the way, if your idea worked, you would help the world improve, without the ideas of genocide of all criminals.

“Hey, I'm serious, I don't want lawsuits” It was good that in a serious moment they took a moment to joke.

“I am patient 01 and I will erase my memory” you looked at the camera in front of you, without showing any emotion.

But it wasn't enough, because the two men were still looking at you, waiting for you to continue talking.

“I want to erase all my self-destructive and sad thoughts that don't let me continue with my life…” you hesitated, you had to say everything you would erase from your head, or just a small introduction.

“continue” you no longer care about who was talking to you.

Everything you wanted to get rid of in your head came to the surface.

“everything since I was little, and I was afraid of everyone and the things that happened, the death of my mother... when I saw her leaving, abandoning me, her eyes losing their last traces of light when I entered that room” you needed carry a calm attitude, instead of getting upset, what kind of presentation would you give to the camera, you still hadn't started to say everything and you no longer had the strength to continue.

"forget the boy, who I considered my brother until he broke his promise, how he came back, but never for me, I forget... my whole family and what I experienced with them, their looks as if I never existed, I was never recognized as his sister and daughter, seeing all those women parade through my home, receiving more attention than I ever received from my father, those feelings of not being enough, even more so when my father confessed that he never saw me as his daughter, I was just a Little girl looking for love and I found my father's ear.”

“It was her mistake, it was her mistake that I existed, and dad could never take responsibility, I did, I stayed with my little mistake, who I love, I love her with great madness, I would do anything for her, I think That's why I'm in this place."

“I call him dad, most of the time I did and he never called me his daughter.”

“so I want to forget my depressive mother, my father's family, aaahhh and that man I knew” a small smile left your lips when you remembered him “Alice's father, please delete him” your voice became dark at the end, you couldn't anymore endure it, you cried, you let your tears fall and be caught on camera.

“You forgot your name, I need you to say it in full.”

“____.... ___ Wayne” you sobbed even as you spoke.

The recording ended, leaving the room silent.

"Well, you already met the mastermind behind everything and the first patient of our Alice or Wonderland project." The man who was still being interrogated interrupted the thoughts of all the heroes and their assistants who were present.

Many glances went towards a stoic-looking man in the middle of the room, who only saw the black screen.

Bruce didn't know how to react to such news, it was like a bucket of water, how come he had ruined it so much with you.

He had hurt you, he was the villain in your life, he couldn't handle that.

And now that it was yours, you became a woman involved in a big crime, you were also alone, you always seemed weak to him, now that was against him, what would you do to protect yourself in such a chaotic world, he couldn't even imagine that something bad is happening to you.

He needed to find you and repair what he did.

I'm sorry if there are errors in the use of he, she, and other pronouns.

Tag list: @kore-of-the-underworld @vanessa-boo @jsprien213 @delias-stuff @vanilliona @bat1212 @yanrandom @Quiarst @palabra de niño salvaje @el termino @leo227 @sirenethblog @ masa para galletas @blueberry19000 @con seguridad

[hardlyinteresting]

Personal

Aaron Hotchner x reader

A case hits a little too close to home for the reader. Hotch makes sure she knows she not alone even as they struggle to decide if they're colleagues, friends, or something more.

Warnings: female reader, (I've given her the nickname Sweets), No physical description of reader, mildly graphic descriptions of injuries, cannon-compliant themes of violence, themes of past domestic violence, mild hurt/comfort, I am not a profiler so there are likely mistakes in the profile (please let me know if there are any warnings you'd like me to add. Aaron Hotchner Masterlist | Send Requests

Word count: 3.2K

"Hope is a gift. You can't choose to have it. To believe and yet to have no hope is to thirst beside a fountain" Ann-Marie MacDonald

The case comes in early in the morning. Aaron has hardly managed a sip of his coffee when the phone rings with a call from a local P.D. in Aberdeen, Virginia. It's urgent. It always is. He cannot begrudge the haste with which his job forces him to chug down the scalding liquid in his mug as he calls upon Garcia to prep the relevant files for the case. It's not the first time, and it certainly won't be the last. Sufficiently caffeinated (albeit with a burnt tongue), and briefed on the case, Hotch calls the team to meet him in the conference room. 

His colleagues seem to be in good spirits today. With a passing glance around the room Hotch silently completes a behavioural checklist for each of them in his mind. No one on the team seems over-exhausted, overtly anxious, or withdrawn. They chat amongst themselves, teasing and joking like siblings as they wait for him to settle into the remaining seat at the table. He nods at Penelope, “Garcia, let's get started”. With a quick “yes, sir,” she presses a button on the remote to begin the briefing. 

This morning the police in Aberdeen discovered the body of a woman left propped up against the wall outside a local medical clinic. Abigail Lawson. 27 years old. She had been badly beaten. A single stab wound. No sign of sexual assault. 

“Cause of death?” Prentiss asks. 

“Blunt force trauma to the head,” Garcia supplies the response. 

“And she's the first?” Morgan follows up. 

“Two weeks ago Stella Amos, twenty-five,  was admitted to hospital with similar injuries. She passed away two hours later. A punctured lung”. 

The photographs of the injuries are disturbing. After years on the job, the images never seem to get less brutal. A chill travels down his spine as he looks over the extent of the wounds on both of the women. A hush falls over the room as everyone else takes a moment to swallow down their own shock and compartmentalize their feelings of disgust. They train themselves, scanning the photographs and notes for the facts they can work with in hopes of saving anyone else from meeting the same fate. 

“No stab wound. Are we sure these cases are connected?” Reid surveys the provided facts one more time.

“Similar age, hair colour. They were from the same neighbourhood. Steady jobs,” Rossi lists, “there's a pattern in victimology to be sure”.

“They could be unconnected acts of domestic violence,” Morgan posits before continuing, “but leaving these women at medical centres is unique. Could be remorse”.

“A man who beats women within an inch of their lives before dropping them off for medical attention. It's a big risk. Knowing they might survive to identify him”.

Hotch nods at the assessment. He had followed the same thought process himself when he got the call. 

“Maybe he's banking on them being too afraid to talk if they do pull through,” another voice in the room speaks up for the first time this morning. Sweets, the team calls her. An affectionate nickname that’s stuck since her first week on the team. “the stabbing is an escalation and these are high-risk victims. This UNSUB isn't worried about getting caught. These attacks are personal to him somehow”. It's an important assertion, and something they'll need to consider as they build and expand their working profile. 

He's glad to hear Sweets adding to the conversation. She's never been shy when contributing to the team's brainstorms, and he had begun to worry when it had taken her so long to speak up. He doesn't miss the wobble in her tone, or the way she now avoids eye contact. She’s a valuable team member, and despite being the most recent addition she’s settled herself flawlessly over the last year. Aaron is well aware of the poor retention rate for new team members in the BAU and has continued to be impressed by her ability to hang on to her brand of optimism and take their most difficult cases in stride. She’s worked hard to see the best in people, and unsurprisingly endeared herself to those around her; himself included. 

At first, Hotch had been grateful for her unique perspective from her experience working for victim services. Then, he grew to appreciate her attention to detail, and the way his piles of paperwork seemed smaller and smaller at the end of each week. She quickly became a friend and a confidant after long nights in the office, and the field. Now, their relationship lies in limbo somewhere between friends and something more. 

Lately, the tugging at his heartstrings has grown nearly painful. All the old cliches leave his heart racing and he feels like a teenager whenever her hand brushes against his own. A night out with the team had ended with her curled up in his bed the next morning, and he’s been a goner ever since. It's been weeks, she hasn’t mentioned it, so neither has he. The guise of professionalism makes it easy to shove down his insecurities, and recurring fears; his age; his scars, physical and metaphorical; the weight of his career; he pushes them to the back of his mind. He does not dare to hope. He does not allow himself to consider the reasons why she might want to keep him at arm's length. It hurts less that way. “Whatever the case we've got a week before he strikes again,” Hotch confirms, his mind focused on the case, “we should head out”.

It’s August, and the sun is nearly blinding; the heat and humidity are intolerable, but nobody complains as they split up between the most recent crime scene, the morgue, and the precinct. Hotch would never admit it, but he’s glad when the woman who occupies half his thoughts volunteers to head to the station with JJ. Not for his peace of mind, but hers. Driving into the town he had seen her hands fidgeting in the back seat of the Suburban. Something about this case is already weighing on her, and he doubts the discomfort of the summer calefaction will be much help. He tries not to think about it any more than that. 

The crime scene doesn’t tell them much more than they already knew. There’s no security footage to help them identify the UNSUB. But, the way he leans the victims to sit against the way rather than just dumping them shows some kind of warped sense of concern for their well-being. The women are likely substitutes for someone else. He was likely raised in a violent home. He can only hope that the rest of the team has managed to learn more. 

Sweets is glad that the station had the forethought to move a coffee maker into the room they’ve set up for the BAU team to work out of. In her short time on the team, she’s learned how essential caffeine is to the function of herself and her teammates. Not enjoying coffee is not an option. Cream and sugar make it tolerable to those who despise the bitter taste. As she preps her second cup of the day she watches Spencer dump 4 packets of sugar into his mug. Whatever gets you through the case. She reminds herself. 

“Defensive wounds on her arms, but her manicure wasn't chipped. There was no blood or skin under her fingernails. No bruising on her knuckles,” Morgan shares what he and Rossi learned at the morgue, “She held her arms up to protect herself, but she didn't fight back. She didn't scratch, claw, or punch her assailant”. 

“She probably knew him then,” Prentiss says, “He’s not sneaking up on these women. But, he has the advantage and control required to attack them head-on”. 

The profile continues to build and Sweets pulls further in on herself. The personal nature of the attacks leaves her nauseous. Flickers of memories she’s fought hard to forget flash behind her eyes, but she forces herself to stay in the room. Reign it in, she wills herself. Without looking across the room she knows Aaron’s eyes are on her. Her cheeks warm though she can’t be sure if it’s his gaze or her anxiety to blame. She tries not to read into it, not wanting to feel too self-important. It’s his job to watch everyone on the team, she knows that. It doesn’t mean anything, she reminds herself the same way she has since she woke up next to him all those weeks ago. She doesn't want attention because she slept with him, and she'd be silly to think it meant anything to him anyway. It's easier to ignore it. He hasn't mentioned it, so she hasn't either.

Despite her best efforts, she does like him. More than she should. Normally, the attention would leave her with butterflies fluttering in her chest, like a schoolgirl with a crush. But today, she feels too seen, too exposed. she focuses her attention on controlling the unwanted emotions this case continues to dredge up. Aaron has seen her undressed, he’s seen her let down her walls and crack jokes. He knows her better than the rest of the team, but this is not a side of her he needs to see. 

 Under the table she plants her feet, pressing the soles of her boots hard against the linoleum. She reminds herself who she’s with and why she’s here. When she’s able to breathe without gagging she speaks up, “If it looks like domestic violence maybe that’s exactly what it is”.  Hotch’s head tilts up, his eyes moving off of the files he’s been pretending to read for the hundredth time, “What do you mean?”

“This morning Morgan said these murders looked like cases of DV. Maybe that’s exactly what this is. We know he had some kind of relationship with the victims-- maybe they were dating him,” Sweets holds her breath waiting for a response.

“It would help to explain the gaps in our profile-- Prentiss, call Garcia and have her look into any recent purchases by the victims. New clothes, new shoes, restaurants, anything that might suggest they’ve been dating,” Hotch instructs, “Sweets, you and JJ should speak to their friends and family; ask if they’ve mentioned anyone new in their lives”. 

Like with any case, she hopes her insight helps, that her perspective and thinking might get them one step closer to finding the UNSUB before anyone else gets hurt; and that they might be able to bring closure to the families of the victims. 

She's learned that personal experience can help as much as it can hinder. Seeing things from an angle that no one else can is certainly an advantage, but it doesn't make it easy to live with either. But, her stomach churns. His face. His touch. The bruises he left behind. She tries to remember she has nothing to be ashamed of. She has nothing to hide. It's no secret everyone on the team struggles with different types of cases, JJ has always found it difficult working cases involving children, and Hotch becomes snappier when they're searching for family annihilators. 

She can feel Aaron's eyes on her again. She prays the twisting in her gut and the scratching in her mind are worth it. 

The next morning begins with news of a third victim. A Jane Doe was found outside the fire station. Aged between 22 and 25. Beaten beyond any kind of recognition. The M.E. will have to try to use dental records to ID her. 

The crime scene photographs are a gruesome addition to the already horrific crime board in the conference room. “It would take an incredible amount of rage and power to beat someone to death like this,” Rossi points out. 

Hotch’s fingers buzz. His usual ground method of rubbing his thumb and forefinger together isn't working. He clenches and unclenches his fist willing the memory of bone cracking, and blood splattering beneath his knuckles away. He hates that even years after his death George Foyet continues to find new ways to sink his teeth in; the mere memory of him is enough to leave bile rising in the back of Aaron's throat. 

Their profile is ready. A white male, mid 20s to early 30s. Traditionally attractive. He's well-groomed and takes pride in his appearance. He more than likely works in an office setting. At work, his desk is neat and well-organized. He does everything by the book. He aspires to a role above his own and will talk about it often. In his eyes, he's overworked and under-appreciated; but, in reality, it's his quick temper and outward frustration that have kept him in his menial role. He may be flirtatious towards the women around him but likely won't pay them any attention when it comes to business matters. As a child he would have grown up in a working-class household, and more than likely faced abuse at the hands of his father. As a teenager, he learned to place blame on his mother for this abuse and began looking down on her the same way his father did. But no amount of hatred could ever win him his father's attention. This made him hate his mother more and allowed his misogynistic views to solidify in adulthood. He will have a history of violence throughout school and early adulthood, and more than likely charges for battery or assault. 

A call from Garcia confirms that the first and second victims both had paid for dinners at restaurants within the same two-block stretch despite living and working on opposite sides of town. Their cards had been used at the restaurants only 25 minutes before their attacks. 

“And he didn’t pay for their dinners either. Chivalry really is dead,” Prentiss dismisses. Predictably, their collective disdain for the UNSUB continues to grow as they learn more about him. Penelope manages to rustle up security footage from one of the restaurants, she's unable to get a facial ID on the man leaving with the first victim but promises to search for other footage from the area and call back when she has a new lead. One step closer, Hotch reminds himself. 

Twenty minutes later word from the M.E. Office arrives. A positive ID on Jane Doe. Grace McKinney, 24. Aaron watches as Sweets pins a photograph of Grace to the victims' board. Her hands shake as she takes a step back, and then she's rushing out of the room before he can ask if she's alright. 

His body feels lead-heavy, his limbs so hebetudinous that he’d swear he was melting into the floor if it weren’t for his feet carrying him out of the room without instruction. Sweets is doubled over in the alleyway behind the station, remnants of her breakfast splashed across the ground. She has nothing left to bring up, but still she dry heaves as if trying to expel more than the contents of her stomach. He knows the feeling. 

“Sweets?” his voice starles her, and Hotch is quick to hold his hands out in a surrendering motion as he approaches, “Are you alright?” He knows the real answer, and he knows that she’ll look right at him and lie; but he asks anyway. “Are you asking as my boss, or as my friend?” She asks. “Would it make a difference?” it’s his turn to wonder. Finally close enough to touch her, he places a hand on her back. It’s impossible to miss the shiver that runs up her spine. Sweets hides her face, angling herself away from her, shrinking in on herself. She tries to hide from him, as unwilling as ever to show any kind of weakness real or perceived. “I’m asking as someone who cares,” Hotch tries again, snuffing out the burning sensation that seems to grow in his chest; his fear of vulnerability fighting hard to shut him down. He won’t let it. “It’s me,” she tells him as if it’s obvious. “Yes”. He's confused. Of course, it's her, he can see her standing right in front of him. “It's me. I'm the Jane Doe; Grace. Abigail. Stella”. His heart stops. She continues, looking at him for the first time, her eyes tearing up, “Not literally-- I just mean…”

“The victimogy. I understand. Same age, hair colour, similar backgrounds--”

“Yes,” She admits, “but we see cases with women who look like me all the time”. 

Aaron nods, taking her openness as an opportunity to guide her out of the alleyway, waiting patiently for her to continue in her own time. “I had a boyfriend a few years ago…I just-- I need some time to collect myself”. 

Again, Aaron nods, understanding, “Would you like me to leave?” 

She shakes her head, her hand shooting up to hold to his arm. She’s shaking less now than she was before. More than ever he wants to hold her, but he doesn’t want to overstep; and during a case, there are lines he cannot cross as her boss. It’s the crux of the predicament they’ve found themselves in. Their personal lives and feelings bleeding and blending to create this strait. Deep down, he’s sure that a line of open communication between them would ease this impasse, but he’s far too shy to suggest it. For now, he settles for being glad her breathing has slowed, and her tears have stopped. “Thank you,” Sweets breathes out. Her hand slips down to squeeze his before she lets go and steps away from him.  “Anytime,” he swears. He means it. 

They find their UNSUB three hours later. Garcia’s scanning of security footage gives them a few license plates from cars within a two-block radius of the restaurants the victims went to. Only one owner fits their profile. He’s at work when they find him. Sweets takes great pleasure in cuffing the man. Hotch has no complaints. 

When they arrive back in Quantico it’s nearing midnight. The team takes their leaving swearing they’ll finish their paperwork tomorrow morning. Sweets takes advantage of the rare silence in the bullpen to complete her reports. She’s not ready to go home. Not yet. At work, she has a shield, a carefully crafted persona; as cracked as it may be at the moment, it holds back the onslaught of personal fallout she’s sure waits for her at home. Sure her apartment is warmer and cozier than the office ever is. Her bed is far more comfortable than any desk chair. But, at home, she has nothing to distract her. At home, she has no obligation to maintain a facade sewn up by professional self-preservation. At home, she’ll be alone without the steady presence of Aaron Hotchner working away in his office. 

The room is bathed in warm lamplight, a comfortable difference from the overhead fluorescents down in the bullpen. Something like a moth, she’s drawn to it by an instinct stronger than her willpower. She knocks on the door frame before leaning into the room. “I finished my report,” she tells him when he looks up. “You didn’t have to finish that tonight,” he tells her with furrowed brows. He sets down his pen and shuts the file he was working on to give her his attention. She steps into the room, setting her report on the edge of his desk. “I didn’t want to go home yet”. She explains though she gets the feeling that he understands. If there’s anyone she knows with a mutual streak of using workplace responsibility to avoid personal turmoil, it’s Hotch. Still, he nods, validating her most simply. “Is there anything I can do?” 

“Are you asking as my boss or something more?” she wonders. 

“Would it make a difference?” He asks. “Yes,” She responds. Sweets watches as he swallows, his brows knitting together as he considers his answer carefully, “I’m asking as someone who cares about you very much, in whatever capacity you need me to right now”. It’s a diplomatic response. Gentle and inviting without being outright hopeful. Quintessentially Aaron Hotchner. 

“Will you come home with me,” Sweets allows herself to be bold enough to ask. 

“Yes,” he tells her simply. 

In the morning he slips away only to return with two cups of coffee and a box of breakfast pastries. They don’t need to be in the office until 10:00 and he plans on taking advantage of the time they have together until then. Sweets accepts the cup he holds out to her with an eager smile, and a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

[verdemoun]

Fun fact, Kieran may have been originally supposed to live longer, at least judging by his many unused voice lines (found on YouTube) and a longer hairstyle which I actually think looks better for him (found on rdr wiki of cut content). Maybe he was supposed to go to Guarma? The voice lines to me suggested going on hunting missions with him but I’m not too sure.

spoilers. obviously

fun fact i have listened to the 2+ hours of Kieran's cut voice lines so many times even my housemates know it and groan when they walk in and i'm listening to it. Did you know one of his cut voice lines for a near miss in a shootout is 'whoo, nearly took my head off!' to foreshadow his eventual demise? And he has several variations of lines telling Arthur to rest with the gentlest tone suggesting he would have been one of the few characters to show concern for Arthur's illness in later chapters? And slightly less relevant but there is a cut interaction in where he asks Jack to sneak him some food only for Arthur to threaten to kill him BUT CALLING HIMSELF UNCLE KIERAN???

screenshots by cad5150

About Guarma, all but confirmed. Here is one of his cut outfits, which I think very obviously suits the vibe of what most of the gang wore in Guarma like compare it to Micah's Guarma outfit in particular. Additionally he has this hood as an outfit accessory: some people think it was intended that when he rides into camp Horsemen Apocalypse there's a moment of the hood being taken off and then the characters having a much more visceral reaction to his eyes being gauged out but personally I think it makes way more sense that he was meant to be in Banking, the Old American Art 'replacing' Sean as an extra gun. Which would have been really cool because I would have loved a conversation where they bring up they're a gun short and it spiral into more reflection on how they're not just a gun short, they're a man down, they lost the 'joy in their lives' Sean Macguire and they were still hurting instead of just NEVER MENTIONING HIM AGAIN other than a few rare character lines.

Side tangent also his scarf is different in his guarma outfit which is it's own essay because if you're going off the blue high honor red low honor theory this so strong implies we could have seen some really cool character development. looking at what the gang were wearing in banking and then in guarma there's no obvious explanation as to where he got it. how cute would it have been if we got a scene where mary-beth gifted him a scarf?? but the also terrifying implication that we might see kieran become less high honour good boy blorbo to someone a bit more morally ambiguous?

I think the question really is how he would have fit in in Guarma, which of course we will never know and considering how much cut content there is about Guarma. Like everyone else in Guarma makes sense: Dutch's descent into immorality being so clear even Arthur questions it, Bill being the one trusted to look after Javier following his rescue, supporting their friendship in rdr1, Micah reaffirming his position as an actual piece of shit in his lines responding to Hosea and Lenny's deaths and complete lack of empathy. Maybe a kieran who is slightly more ruthless and active in shootouts in guarma but also shows compassion for arthur as arthur gets sick? Maybe the attack on Hanging Dog Ranch was meant to be more a revenge for Kieran's death assuming he was taken and killed similarly to his death in chapter 4 (given how much much foreshadowing there is for his death), but just another misery in chapter 6 that hits harder because we have more time to grow attached and see him develop?

Except. Except then we get to cut outfit kieran.

first. hellooooo sailor. but who is this man. who is this man who looks older. and wears a very, very low honour red scarf. and is obviously dressed still as an outlaw, and didn't go live a happy life with mary-beth. is it. is it possible. kieran was not always meant to be doomed by the narrative??

is it possible we would have seen kieran become more loyal to dutch and micah, true to his army abandoning, gang jumping, choosing to ride with the o'driscolls rather than die, immediately 'loyal' to the vdls despite torture because being alone meant certain death, coward nature? or would he have just been a character john could encounter in the epilogue? perhaps shaken by knowing arthur, as one of his very, very few friends, died trying to be a better person and abandoned any effort to be more than an outlaw?

but. but kieran. shirt all buttoned up. scarf on. thick coat. hair slightly feral and wild. why does it looked like you're all dressed up for the cold, buddy? like- like you might have been hiding out up mount hagen.

[greenboyfriend]

choose a fantastic green thing (tarot reading)

"what do you need to know?" image 1: ahh, a classic. woman with fish. iridescent fish, no less. image 2: women want him, men want to be him. whether you love him or hate him, you can't deny... he is a bug. image 3: the bowl. image source not everything may resonate with you, and that's ok! take what does & leave the rest. don't force it.

1.・。.・゜✭

hello friends. what a nice pull! you may be giving or receiving a gift as an act of charity or kindness. it seems like you’re unaware of something, but it’s not a bad thing. consider it blissful ignorance. it may be wise to stay in this state, shunning negativity/corruption. also, some of you may be dealing with children/ a child? maybe someone is having a baby?!

nevertheless, you’re trusting your intuition at this time, and it’s serving you. however, you may be a bit apprehensive about a change/transition you’re going through. know that it’ll happen no matter what you do! you’ll have to eliminate excess one way or another, cutting down to the bare essentials. it’s scary to go through change where you’re unsure what will happen, but you’ve got to do it at some point.

and anyway, you’ve got your intuition at your side. tune in with yourself however you know best, whether that be taking a walk outside, listening to your favorite song, etc, it will help you to regroup.

being sympathetic and loving towards others will also work in your favor. try to open up, and give others what you would like to receive yourself. “forgiving and forgetting” may also be relevant for some of you.

(6 of cups, death reversed, ace of cups)

2.・。.・゜✭

holy FUCK, you need to pump the brakes. holy FUCK, whatever it is, SLOW THE HELL DOWN!!! four of swords literally came flying out of the deck before i even got the chance to shuffle. take this as the universe/your future self urging you, begging you, pleading on hands and knees, to CHILL OUT!

yes, we all know you are very determined and forthright. yes, we all know it, and we all know that has turned out very well for you in other situations. however. at this point, you’re gambling whether things will go your way, and you can tell. loosen your grip on those reigns! resting ain’t so bad!! not every moment needs to be jam packed with activities.

i feel like you know that, but you don’t want to accept that it’s true, or can’t. despite this, you’re feeling the effects. the 10 of swords spells exhaustion & burn out– finding yourself depleted, full of swords, and on the ground (in vain); all the while, the call for action has not even arrived yet. 

consider yourself. if you need to have a goal, think of it this way: how can you most effectively relax? what activities (or lackthereof) will make you feel the most refreshed when the time comes to get moving again? in a sense, take all the anxious energy you’re feeling, and put it to use by taking care of yourself. you’re not going to be able to succeed in the way you want to if you’re completely exhausted from ignoring your own needs.

so relax! if you’re not sure how, beg the universe for help. that’s what i did, and now, i have a cat. 

(the chariot reversed, 4 of swords, knight of swords, 2 of wands, 10 of wands)

3.・。.・゜✭

your cards strike me as very sweet, my bowl lovers… after going through a trauma in your past, you’re working towards healing by opening up to those around you. now is a great time to be intimate, and not just in the romance way! maybe you’re interested in moving forwards with this, but you aren’t sure which path (which person/people, perhaps) to take. not to fear, however!! page of cups is here! let your heart/intuition lead you, and don’t be afraid to have some fun with it.

consider your emotions exactly as they are: does this person make you feel happy? secure? take your knee jerk reactions and mix them with your observations. after that, the choice should be clear.

six of swords is not always the most fun of cards (typically denoting healing, sloughing through the slop, ect) but trust that where you’re going certainly is… a blast, that is!! it may be a celebration you’re heading towards, but more than anything, it seems like you’ll gain a new sense of freedom. with the page of cups and six of swords present, this is likely how you approach your feelings & relationships, and how they’ve been impacted by your past. expect to shed some light on these patterns, and even overcome them entirely!*

these last two cards cement this message. if you go after what you want, you’re certain to meet success! it can be scary, and it might take a while, but keep trying! you can do this!!!

*for the time being, anyway. progress is not linear! sometimes it's 2 steps forwards to go 1 step back and that's ok!!!

(4 of wands reversed, page of cups, 6 of swords, 7 of cups reversed)

(pulled later: 6 of wands reversed, page of pentacles)

Ws all around my friends

[yuri-for-businesswomen]

i think it is very telling that the best documented case of women buying sex from men are white western women going on vacation in west african countries such as gambia to prey on impoverished and usually younger black men. it highlights that prostitution - any prostitution - is an exertion of power from a more privileged group against a less privileged group. that prostitution is a system that profits from and reinforces oppression and inequality. here, the axis of oppression is not sex, but race. its a symptom of neocolonialism, like most sex tourism.

nonetheless i always have to laugh when the articles, documentaries and research desperately try to act like female and male sex buyers are exactly the same - usually the argument hinges on the fact that the motivation is the same, companionship and sexual gratification. but male sex buyers are motivated by so much more: fetish, sadism, violence, domination. this does not tend to be the case with women. also, unwanted penetration is a different level of violence, having something inserted in you. female sex buyers dont request painful acts such as deepthroat or anal. there are no brothels full with men, the men dont have pimps, and usually in the case of female sex tourists, the arrangement is loose: companionship and sex with no fixed payment but pleasantries, gifts and such. additionally, women dont tend to be able to physically overpower men, or get off on enacting violence like hitting and choking. men who prostitute themselves for women are also less stigmatised than those who do so for men, or prostituted women. and more men sell themselves to other men than to women. and: women who buy sex tend to be single, while the relationship status of a man is no indicator of likelihood to buy sex.

female sex buyers highlight that besides sex, economic class and race determine who is prostituted and who buys sex. that prostitution is an issue of intersectional inequality. and that misogyny is still the key motor of prostitution: male sex buyers are any age, any class, any race, because any man can be a misogynist. but women only become sex buyers under specific conditions; for example motivated by racist fetishisation. another key factor here is gender. buying sex is considered masculine, but women buying sex break with gender norms. consider also the orgasm gap: most women are not satisfied by their male sexual partners. hypothetically it would make more sense for women to be the majority of sex buyers to enforce sexual satisfaction they lack in consensual sexual relationships. yet privileged women who lack sexual satisfaction are more likely to prostitute or otherwise objectify themselves than buying sex.

any form of female-on-male prostitution has its male-on-female (and sometimes male-on-male) equivalent that is more violent and more common. meanwhile many forms of prostitution dont have a female-on-male version, for example prostitution in brothels. men prostituting themselves for women are at a lot less risk for physical violence and abuse or being trafficked. there is even a phenomenon of heterosexual men having to prostitute themselves for men because there is just not enough demand from women. and female-on-female prostitition is almost unheard of, if anything this occurs in a male-female-female constellation. there are no gangbang parties with one or two men and groups of women.

people are so obsessed with pretending like women as consumers in the sex industry - whether that be as sex buyers, porn watchers or stripshow enjoyers - are just the same as men when there are clear differences. gender relations are always relevant in a patriarchal system and reversed roles dont produce the same outcomes.

[ask-the-pioneer]

Hello and welcome to @ask-the-pioneer! This is a scripted ask blog dedicated to a slugcat OC of mine called Marbles (she/her), titled the Pioneer. She is a re-interpretation of Artificer’s blue slugpup, set in a AU where the pup survives, grows up, and receives a name. The main story begins some short time after the end of Artificer’s campaign. At that point in time Marbles is already a young adult (early 20s in human years). She parts ways with Hunter - her mentor - and ventures out to seek the knowledge contained within the pearls that she was always captivated by.

This blog is run by @kalivasquez (@kalivasquezart). Keep in mind I’m not a native English speaker. There may be spelling errors or weirdly constructed sentences at times. This is my first ask-blog ever so idk what I’m doing but I’m trying my best 👍

CONTENT WARNING: This blog has content rating of +18 due to potential sensitive themes: mental trauma, depictions of violence, suicidal ideation, blood and gore, or other graphic imagery that may be uncomfortable, scarring or otherwise triggering to witness. Viewer discretion is advised. Posts containing mild themes will be tagged appropriately, while posts showing heavy themes will have "mature" filter applied to them. Please be aware that all the content shared on this blog is intended for an adult audience!

More info below the cut!

Blog Rules 📜

Last update: 10th of October, 2024

By default you address the main character - Marbles, aka the Pioneer - in your asks. If you wish to inquire me directly (as an author of this blog), please include “[OOC]” at the beginning, or otherwise indicate that the message is directed at me and not the character.

Asks are answered in-character. Sometimes the character may react to your ask in a seemingly negative way. Please keep in mind that it is done from their point of view, and it does not imply that I (the author) personally reacted badly to your message.

I appreciate all the asks that I receive. However, I reserve the right to not answer some of them, at my discretion. It is not guaranteed that you receive a response. Still, I’ll try my best to answer as many messages as I can.

Be aware that some asks I receive may be skipped over, especially ones that are short and vague, in favour of more complex asks that help me push the plot of this AU forward. This is also relevant for asks that refer to the same subject (duplicates).

Please be tactful! Asks that are inappropriate or confusing in their intent (like spam, baits, asks containing slurs) will be deleted. Sorry!

Do not send me asks via direct messages (DMs)! I keep my DMs open in case someone needs to contact me for other reasons, like incorrect tagging or important offsite matters. If you send me a DM meant to be answered like an ask, your message will be ignored and deleted.

More rules may be added later. Please check this section again periodically.

General Character Info ℹ️

As of now, this ask-blog has only one acting character - Marbles the slugcat, aka the Pioneer.

Name (given): Mirmyntasseth, Eight Marbles Cast in Stone

Title (given): the Pioneer

Nickname: Blue (for family), Marbles (for friends, after being named by an iterator)

Pronouns: she/her

Age: young adult (very early 20’s in human years)

Personality: energetic, curious, savvy, humorous, short-tempered, resilient, drive, a little naive and too trusting, exhibits mild case of abandoned child syndrome

Specific traits:

good at finding pearls (she loves them, goes about as crazy for them as scavs) and other trinkets,

knows martial arts, can incapacitate enemies by hitting their pressure points,

can craft explosive spears and grenades - they do less damage, but stun for longer; crafted explosives have deep orange color,

already has a mark of communication, granted by NSH,

Tools:

Marbles is often seen wearing a light colored “sling bag” on her back, where she keeps her pearls and other items,

at a muuuuuuch later point in time, she receives a gift from a kind interator - her very own citizen ID drone; the drone can read from pearls and translate slugcat speech into other languages.

Current reference sheet:

For more in-dept info and drawings/references of the character, please visit Marbles' ToyHouse page.

AU Timeline ⏱️

the story of Pioneer takes place some years after the end of Artificer's campaign, and begins at the same time as Hunter's campaign in-game

this AU assumes the following timeline for slugcat campaigns: Spearmaster -> Artificer -> Hunter -> Gourmand -> Survivor -> Monk -> Rivulet -> Saint,

Artificer/Hunter/Gourmand campaigns happen close together, with Hunter/Gourmand overlapping slightly; all three scugs are roughly the same age, with Arti being the oldest (early 40s), and Hunter the youngest (39),

Saint and Monk are still slugpups by the time the story of Pioneer beings,

Spearmaster is unlikely to be present in this AU as it is assumed that over 432 cycles have passed, meaning they are no longer alive,

Rivulet is unlikely to be present in this AU as here their campaign is assumed to have taken place *much *later in the future,

Saint is thought to be stuck in a time loop, and *may *appear in this AU.

AU Setting 📝

Pioneer’s Backstory (before the events described in this ask blog):

Marbles/Blue (the Pioneer) was born in the Garbage Wastes area, raised by a single mother (Artificer); the other parent remains unknown,

she had a sibling (who was also the runt of the litter) - a brother named Bryn, the green slugpup; the two were fraternal twins,

she got separated from the rest of her family in a scav toll incident,

was not killed, but abducted instead by the scavenger toll tribe, brought into their local shelter just before the rain started,

initially assumed to have been taken in as a fodder in case of predator attack,

in the end she has earned her keep when she learned how to make grenades and explosive spears, turning herself into a valuable asset for the tribe,

was treated fairly well, but never truly incorporated into the local scavenger community,

had stayed with the tribe for many cycles, learning how to fight and survive, but also how to look for valuables (mainly pearls) and haggle with other tribes,

could probably have run away, but she held on to hope that mom would come back for her,

whenever she got “lost”, the tribe would look for her to bring her back,

after one of her short solo expeditions, she came back to the camp only to find out the entire scav tribe has been wiped out,

ran away and been wandering aimlessly for a while, eventualy stumbling upon Hunter who adopted her, took back to NSH's superstructure, and underwent training alongside him (under NSH’s supervision),

promised to accompany Hunter during his important mission, but had to suddenly part ways due to unfortunate circumstances (just before the beginning of Hunter’s campaign).

Post Tagging 🏷️

I use the following tags:

#rain world, #rain world oc, #rain world au - default tags added to all answered asks (unless OOC),

#rain world spoilers - is included in posts that may spoil RW lore, for example: when answers hint to the conclusion of Artificer’s campaign,

#rw - rain world-specific characters that are present in a post, such as: “#rw hunter” or “rw five pebbles”; i will try to use the full name(s) intead of abbreviations,

#au lore - posts that contain important worldbuilding information for my AU,

#ooc- out of character posts, or anything else that doesn’t fall under “rain world” umbrella,

(more tags will be added to this section once I actually start posting stuff)

I also tag sensitive content with appropriate tags like #tw [trigger], if shown.

Text Key 💬

Most dialogue takes form of narrated drawings, where Marbles speaks in her own voice. The speeches are a part of the drawings themselves.

However, if a post contains additional text, the following key is used:

[Narration]

[The road was long and arduous, and she was glad to have finally found a shelter]

(Thoughts)

(This place is full of scavengers, I should be able to trade those pearls for some food)

“Speaking”

“How come you have not seen a vulture before? Climb up to Sky Islands, they are everywhere!”

//OOC

// more art coming soon woohoo!

Credits 📑

image in the blog's header belongs to Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

Yoŋasabi script (slugcat language, original conlang) in the top banner by @opashoo

all the other drawings posted on this blog were made by me, unless stated otherwise

[nerves-nebula]

Why does Splinter get Raph a turtle?

OH GOODIE a fun ask!

some abusive parents are truly dedicated to the grindset of being awful to their kids. they only get them gifts for shitty reasons, or they never get them gifts at all. but a lot of abusive parents aren't like that, a lot of them think of themselves as pretty good parents. splinter convinces himself that most of his abuse is more about raising his kids right and less about how it makes him feel powerful and in charge. he does things that he thinks a good parent/teacher SHOULD do.

so sometimes he gets them gifts. if he was going to get anyone a pet, it would be raph. he thinks raph can handle an extra responsibility. mikey is too irresponsible, donnie's too weak and neither of them deserve it anyway. and as much as he likes buying Leo's affection and admiration, he doesn't want Leo to dote over something like a pet. he doesn't want leo to be "distracted" by it to the detriment of his studies. (really tho he doesnt want something that leo can love unconditionally but he wouldn't admit that to himself fsdfsdF)

he probably didnt go out looking for a gift for raph but it likely came at a good time. maybe raph bested leo in sparring, maybe raphs just been pretty on top of things for a bit. or maybe Leo failed at something and splinter wants to rub it in more by rewarding his second favorite kid and making Leo think he could lose his place as The Best One :)

(crucially Splinter is not really aware of the abusive reasoning, he's more going off of vibes here. like, he's thinking that he's "motivating leo" rather than "scaring leo by making him think he's replaceable" cuz to him Raph could never actually succeed in usurping Leo as favorite. but Leo doesn't know that.)

as for where he got the turtle, idk, the trash? pancake turtles are expensive but maybe a rich asshole threw it out or something once they decided turtles sucked and were lame.

splinter saw a turtle in the trash and was like "this cannot be a coincidence" like in that kind of way where you don't necessarily believe in fate or anything but you see something and ur like well shit. i can't NOT involve myself in this it's like. super relevant to me in a hyper specific way. also he thinks its funny to give a turtle to a turtle as a pet.

long answer but i hope that covers everythinggg

[chaifootsteps]

So a while back I saw some screenshots of Viv answering questions on her Patreon Discord (I'm guessing it was that, anyway), and apparently, Stella's original name was Sibella.

And that got me thinking.

While Viv just liked the name for the Gentleman's Guide song, I noticed the name is derived from Sibyl from Greek myth and means "prophetess".

Imagine if they had leaned into that idea? Like Stella not only has a gift of prophecy, but also a degree of psychic knowledge? In Helluva's canon, there isn't really a grasp of how the grimoire works, but what if there was? What if Stolas didn't really have a drive to learn about it (hence him never teaching Octavia), but Stella did? And she ends up using a spell of sorts combined with their arranged marriage to have power over Stolas? So that even though Stolas is an Ars Goetia, who's incredibly powerful to most and has a full demon form, by the constraints of Stella using the grimoire's magic and studying it, he can't harm her, but she can harm him?

That route would actually make Stolas feeling threatened and caged by Stella make a lot more sense, give Stella more of a character, and give the grimoire more plot relevance and a solid understanding of how it works.

Sadly, in Viv's hands, she' isn't's a lot more one-dimensional and less likable as a villain. But if Viv had gone a route like that, she could have at least have some interesting elements to her even with Stolitz being mangled.

... You know what? Screw it. I'm taking my random AU headcanon for Stella and transposing it onto the Lady Macbeth character in my steampunk musical take on Macbeth. With a villain song inspired by this for good measure. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4XSTgVQzGEA

Leave it to Viv to hold yet another golden opportunity in her hands and squander it in every way imaginable.

Love your steampunk musical idea! As for me, I'm headcanoning Sibella as this gorgeous demon with psychic powers and a killer singing voice that Stella ultimately rides off into the sunset with.

[dross-the-fish]

I keep seeing gifted kid discourse pop up on my dash and honestly being a gifted kid is not nearly the flex some of you guys think it is. Obviously I can't speak to everyone's experience but I can tell you pretty firmly that my was all but pointless. For relevance I was in the US. I was a gifted kid. I wasn't actually smart, by the time I hit middle school I was mostly just bullshitting my way through assignments because my dyslexia made it hard to do the work the normal way at the same pace as everyone else. I got called lazy a lot before I keyed in that the game was to score well on standardized tests and knowing the material was less important than giving the right answers. Half the time I would read summaries rather than the whole book and look at future questions on tests to answer earlier ones. When in doubt I picked answer "C" because that was the most common correct answer. Being multiple choice also helped a lot because some of the answers were super obvious even if you'd never read the material. I cannot stress enough that I wasn't smart, I was borderline cheating. A teacher decided at random out of all the kids her class 5 of us were smarter than average and we were picked to take a cognitive assessment. I scored high enough and immediately got placed in a gifted program. That was all it took, one teacher singling me out as "exceptional" and a passed simple cognitive test and I wouldn't be shocked if that teacher had biases because the school was something like 80% minority enrollment, 60% of the which was hispanic/latino and a lot of them were struggling just to learn English. Most of the student body were economically disadvantaged. I wouldn't be at all shocked if I got picked because I was white and more proficient with the English language than my peers. Seeing grown adults in their 30s and 40s cling to their gifted kid status is so weird because it's such a hollow brag. Even if you were from a good school I can't imagine that the process for getting picked was THAT different or the criteria that stringent.

[iluvaobesegaki4694]

FF7 Turks in a relationship

Don't ask me why I decided to write this, I was just feeling really lonely and was like what would my bots be like as a bf?

Rufus

at best I don't think he would be a good bf. why? I feel like before his father passing he more or less acted really entitled and manipulative, he probably has had a few pass relationships (his first one being the worst one and kind of making him the way he is) that messed up either because he was too pushy or just... no that's just it. I feel like though he has more negatives he definitely has a loving side, he would always buy you the most expensive gifts, and occasional dates; though you probably wont see him often since he's the boss of shinra.

Tseng

Tseng is a die heart lover boy!!! he loves spending time with you, though he doesn't show it outside. I believe he often keeps to the stern and well spoken personality, when outside but at home he's all over you, hugs are his favourite. He's mostly like this because he for the most part doesn't get time to spend with you due to always being on a mission or being at work. Though when he's around you he makes sure you have the most nutritious food, and get good exercise. When Tesng is home, I feel like he would make different types of teas for you depending on what you need, for example when you need help with your insomnia, he makes you camomile tea, and gives you a nice back massage.

Rude

he's supportive. makes sure to bring you up every day, trust me the only times you don't get a message from him in the morning, is when he's in a different time zone, and doesn't want to wake you up with his messages. At the beginning he was really hesitant to make any moves on you but grew more comfortable as time went on, I know for a fact that he loves to show you off and make sure to make you food when he is at home. For reference, he loves making spicy food, and anytime your ill, he asks Tseng for some advice on what teas you should drink to help make you feel better.

Reno

HE IS SO HAPPY! he loves you so much, be ready for many phone calls and him talking you none stop, about anything and everything, I feel like most of your calls would be silent, since he doesn't have much to talk about (since he just called you an hour ago) but he defo loves to have your presence around him. When he is home, he loves to give you deep hugs, and back massages, mostly cause of your perfume; must i add that he sprays your perfume on his jumper when he hasn't seen you for a while? When it comes to food, I don't think he likes to cook, hell when he was training to become a Turk he defo spent most of his time eating ramen noodles, and the leftovers of what rude makes. So he's so happy when you cook, or even when you two get take always, be ready for snuggles and a couple of love kisses since he loves to do movie nights at home.

Cissnei

She's a reader... why is this relevant? because you and her going on library dates, and book shopping galore. She loves to write you little poems about you or read out poems about her day, though for the most part she won't share them with anyone else; but you. in terms of work, she keeps relatively active and doesn't go on many extensions, so most of her time is spent at the office working, if she gets off early, she will meet you at your office with a cupcake, or cookie for you to eat. she likes hugs, but prefers to kiss and hold you, but the way she most shows her affection is by doing you hair, since she loves to take care of her own hair skin; so be ready for a lot of hair masks, and face masks.

OKAY BONUS

Elena

Personally, I feel as if Elena would be super shy, and closed off in a relationship, even though she is amazing I feel like she has a lot of stress due to being, mind you, ONLY 18! so i feel like homegirl defo needs her positive affirmation, when it comes to the relationship. She isn't much of a cooker, so when it comes house shores she would do the cleaning/washing meanwhile you would cook, or she would get a take away. She spends most of her time working, since she tries really hard to prover herself, and doesn't want to be overlooked due to her age and gender, so a lot of the time you would find her passed out on her laptop in YOUR hoodie. when on a mission she often tries to text you to make sure your up, and have an explanation on what she's doing as well as what your plans are for the rest of the day (bonus she has a cat that you look after when she is away). Finally, she doesn't often go on dates with you, but when she does she spends SOOOOO much money, why? because she wants to go to the fun fair, especially winter wonderland, which is her favourite! she loves the warm coco, the smell of cinnamon and most importantly looking into your eyes, if you two ever got married, she would definitely propose to you here.

BONUS: she listens to Airplane mode when she's thinking of you.

[lizparkcr]

Ramble ahead -- I want muriel to be full of rage because it fixes so much about his characterisation and story

(i think the devs were avoiding him having any real anger bc the fandom would have crucified them as they did for everything else which sucks, but would explain a lot of his woobification)

it would explain how on earth he was actually able to kill yknow?? call me whatever but his characterisation as it is i don't think he'd be able to kill anyone or anything, past or present -- even when his only loved one was at stake. but if he was angry. if he let the years of subjugation, loneliness, helplessness, and exposure to corruption and violence just take hold of him, give into it -- because hes always been assumed to be violent due to his size and strength, and he gives up trying to prove he's not. Its not necessarily a consious decision and no, he doesn't want to kill, and maybe he does refuse to kill at first. but when forced and trapped in this horrific situation and treated like a monster and an object he throws himself away and gives in to the anger, and takes it out on people who are no longer people but those who have hurt him, people who its ok to hurt and kill (not that i think he would think about it this deeply, i think there'd be a whole lot of detachment and disassociation involved)

Less relevant stuff under the cut

it would add depth to his apparent self loathing and lack of self-worth

which would explain more deeply why he isolated himself and sees the curse of being forgotten as a "gift", why he doesn't even want to think about himself as a real person or be seen by anyone

it would add complexity to his pacifism, which in canon is less of a choice and more an extreme aversion to hurting anything due to PTSD. imo pacifism is not a very interesting trait when no part of you actually wants to hurt. like a part of him wants to use his strength, to actually fight back to show people they cannot control or subjugate him anymore. It just happens to twist into an awful rage that rots him during the gladiator days because there he is, being controlled and subjugated, but its the only power he has. I think he'd fantasise about killing lucio, but becomes utterly hopeless because he knows he cant, lucio becomes this figure of absolute power because of just how powerless he feels against him in the arena (which would further explain his passivity!! Like the way he didn't seem to even try to find a way to escape or figure out if he could keep asra safe. once he was done with a fight he just becomes hollow and passive, without that anger driving him he just empties, andd would let himself be hurt if someone attacked him -- similar to how he is in his route when attacked by those muggers)

He's afraid of becoming that monster again, or the MC seeing that side of him at the very least. Anger being associated with combat would have been a very real obstacle to break down during their training which could have added complexity to morga's character and their relationship

it would also make his and Inana's first meeting and him leaving make more sense: she's the straw that breaks it, muriel is beginning to crumble, or he's almost at the point of no return is maybe a better narrative. she is completely calm and knowing, and since she is/becomes his familiar, he sees himself for a moment as she sees him, as everyone sees him, and he's brought back to reality. and that's when he runs away

[vesselsscarlet]

Hey my loves of my besties.

This post is a bit personal now. It is a story about Sleep Token, to be exact it is my story with them.

Because it still feels surreal to me.

So... it all started on January 7 in Dusseldorf, Germany, Mitsubishi Electric Hall.

I was there with one of my friends from uni, and also with my male best friend, we decided to see Architects and Northlane. We couldnt care less about the boys (I am very sorry for that now), they weren't relevant to us.

But after opening up with Chokehold and playing Alkaline, dude holy shit, they got me.

I started digging into their music, listened to every song ever since. And then I realized, they once were in my Spotify suggestions with "Hypnosis". But hell, that was back in 2022, and I had no idea.

But when Vore was released and they announced their Wembley ritual I tried to find someone who wanted to go with me. This is how I met a friend who now is coming with me to Birmingham and Cardiff. My friend from uni also wanted to join us.

My old blog went through so many changes, from James McAvoy to Pedro Pascal to Sleep Token. And then it got deleted. It didn't stop me. Tumblr couldn't stop my obsession.

So... I created an account again, ...

This baby, vesselsscarlet.

I didn't know it would end up as a blog with at least 200 followers, and people actually liking my stuff and ... Most importantly..

Me. Lia. That person that runs this account.

My darlings.. oh my darlings..

@moonchild-in-blue @ittwuh (I miss you darling) @autumns-veil @a-s-levynn and @con-clavi-con-jae were the first people that decided to be my besties. And then it was followed by lovie herself @fivewholeminutes and also dearest @thejawsoffate ...

Like ... how did this happen? I barely knew any people and now... I've got these people here. Wanted to be friends with me.

My account blew up... I didn't know what to do..

But @takemetoasgard @sleeby-vessel @polteergeistt @aquareegia @sleep-token @sleepanonymous @alexghost07 @the-devoured @nullcode @ccsven and even the ones I barely/never really talked to (I am sorry, I suck at interactions but ily) but are also worth mentioning... as for: @loveinthemindpalace @houseofache @ghxstly-death @crying-neptune @eepymonstrr @thevenomousseprent .. and so many more..

I cannot express anything that is showing my gratitude towards you all.

You all... made it special. You are the reason why I am still up here.

And when it comes to the UK Tour this year...

I cannot believe it but I am gonna do it with so many amazing people (either for the entire four rituals or a few or just meeting up for one particular ritual):

@fivewholeminutes @a-s-levynn @thejawsoffate @moonchild-in-blue @sleeby-vessel @alexghost07 Alina (my very first sleep token friend who got me the Wembley tickets) and Philipp (my uni friend)...

If you made it this far...

Thank you for being here. Thank you for being my friend/mutual.

And if you are specifically tagged..

I hope you don't mind it. But ....

Thank you so much to you as well for being my bestie. You are the best.

And thank you to Sleep Token for gifting me these incredible people.

With that being said...

Lets keep this up, and I am glad to be here.🥺