#how they 'corrected' me also felt very... condescending...

[shay-puppitty]

Hmn... feels great when someone corrects you on your own pronouns because that person doesn't like one of the ones you use for yourself... :3

Situation (we're in a livestream chat)

Me: speaking of studying... *goes off to search for it's language notes

Other person: Shay, the correct pronoun is HE. Not it. You are not a thing, you're a person.

-_- I-I know... I'm a person...???

It's perfectly fine that this person doesn't use it/its when talking about me, perfectly fine they only use he/him when referring to me. I can respect that. But do not try to tell me what my OWN pronouns are because you don't like one of them. (thankfully the streamer saw the other person's comment before I did [because I was away from the computer looking for my notes] and told them that people can choose their own pronouns and they should be respected. It's not that person's place to correct other people on their own pronouns.)

[jazziejax]

𝐈. 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

Pairings- Priest!Art Donaldson x Reader, Priest!Patrick Zwieg x Reader

Summary- Odessa and Antoinette get a creepy letter in the mail

Warnings- religious talk, swearing, inside thoughts, not well written…

Jazzie’s Notes!- I just wanna preface this with saying that I don’t really know how to write this style of writing. I have to learn to write well in first person, but then if I do that, I would have to switch person to person all the time. Let if know if this is good or not, don’t be afraid to give feedback. Also, this isn’t meant to offensive to a religious group, I am religious myself. Sorry for any spelling errors!!!

Word Count- 5,313

Antoinette’s life was far from perfect. She lived in a crappy apartment in a sketchy part of New York with barely any money to afford to live. But she tended to find the bright side of most things. She shared said apartment with her best friend, and she always dreamed of living in New York. Plus, her job was a cute diner with a surprisingly stylish apron. She felt like one of those girls in the rom-com movies. Life could be worse.

“Hi, what can I help you guys with today?” The chipper voice of the young lady said as she pulled the notepad out of her blue apron pocket. She looked expectedly around the group that sat at the diner booth.

“Uh, can we get two French toast meals with the strawberry and whipped cream on them, no bacon or eggs on one of them? And two chocolate chip pancake meals with no whipped cream, just the bananas and blueberries. Four milkshakes, one chocolate with no cherry no whipped cream, one strawberry with the cherry and whipped cream, one vanilla with just the whipped cream, and another chocolate with the cherry and the whipped cream.” Said a blonde woman in one go, before looking up to smile at the waiter.

What a…hearty breakfast. Is it even breakfast time?

The girl squinted, caught off guard by everything that was thrown at her so fast, and didn’t write anything down past the ‘no eggs no bacon’ part. “Um, okay, yeah. I totally have all of that. I’m just gonna repeat it back to make sure it’s correct.” The curly-haired waiter smiled, looking down at the small amount of words scribbled on the yellow paper. Before she could even start talking, the blonde girl spoke up again.

“Oh, no need.” She smiled sweetly, which was obviously fake and condescending by the way she then waved the girl off before continuing the conversation she was in with her friends. Antoinette's eyes darted from one person to the next, utter shock but not surprised at how they all just continued to ignore her presence. She offered a small smile, whispering a small “Okay.” Before walking off to tell Lonny what she remembered of the order.

Which also didn’t go in her favor.

“Why the hell didn’t you write it down?” The older man asked, his New York accent thick on his tongue as she looked down at the small piece of paper the girl handed him.

I totally didn’t even think of that.

“I tried, she was going too fast and wouldn’t let me stay any longer to get it correct.” The girl whined. “I can tell you what I remember from my brain.”

My brain, what am I, seven years old? I need to expand my vocabulary.

“I don’t need what you have in your brain, I need the order on paper! I’m running a restaurant here, curly fry, not a school!” The grump yelled, before moving around the kitchen to continue to cook. Antoinette just stood there, arms stiff at her sides as her eyes drifted towards the open box where the orders got dropped off to see the more than half-empty restaurant. Her brows furrowed inwards only a smidge as she looked back over at her boss.

“Lonny, they’re the only people here.” She stated. All she got in response was the slam of the man’s fist against the metal table out of frustration. Not caring, or rather not paying attention, Antoinette continued. “I mean, them and the homeless guy that sleeps in the booth at the very back. And the occasional person with a laptop to charge.” She shrugged.

Lonny then turned, glaring from afar at the girl who was at least a foot taller than him. Granted, he was a short man.

“You’re lucky I like you curlyfry.” The man grumbled. “Now write down what you can remember then get back to work.” He hissed, turning to the batter he had before him. Antoinette was almost tempted to ask, what work? but refrained from making the situation worse. “Okay.” Was all she said before starting to scribble what she caught of the order on the paper.

My handwriting is atrocious, I need to work on that. Ooh, that’s a big word. Maybe my vocabulary isn’t so terrible. Hey, they do say bad handwriting is a sign of intelligence.

“Also, can you go kick out that homeless guy?” Lonny started, talking to the girl over his shoulder.

“Why can’t you?” She immediately asked, not even thinking over the statement. The older man threw his head back, letting out a deep sigh. “Because I’m working. Ya know, the thing you don’t do.”

Antoinette softly gasped in offense, placing a hand over her heart. “I work. I’m getting this order to you right now.” She said, tripping g the paper from the bit pad and sliding it over to the order station. “Plus, Joey’s gonna be here any second for my shift to end. Although a little late. He can handle it though.”

“Yeah, but I asked you, and I want it done now.” The man spat, never once looking back at the girl as he continued to make the dough for his bread at the cooking station.

“Well, I can’t because I have to wait.” She said, starting to take off her apron. Lonny screamed in annoyance, turning to face his employee. “What did I tell you about that word?!” He screamed desperation and anger in his tone.

“That it’s only used by stinky European teenage boys.” Antoinette related like a mantra at this point. “So stop it!” He yelled as she then tried to walk out of the kitchen, actually having to pee. “And what did I tell you about telling me when you have to pee.”

“I just thought you should know!” Antoinette yelled back through the closing kitchen door. She sighed, starting to continue her way to the bathroom before briefly pausing when she realized the table from earlier was now looking at her in irritation and confusion.

Great, they probably heard me talking about having to pee.

She smiled at them, her dimples being the cherry on top of her adorable face. “Your food will be out shortly.” She said as she encapsulated one hand in the other, voice now calm in contrast to her previous yelling. She went to walk about before stopping once more. “Hopefully.” She said before continuing, taking her apron off in the process and laying it on a hook in the back where her bag and coat were.

She wakes in the dingey bathroom, pulling down her pants and squatting over the bowl. Finally, in some semblance of peace, she had the same thoughts she had every time she used the bathroom at the diner.

My calves have to be extremely strong after doing this for four years. Can they hear me? Gosh, I hope they can’t hear me. I think I’d kill myself. Well no, I wouldn’t because that’s a sin.

Finished, the file looked over next to her for the toilet paper, seeing the roll bare but the sake of two thin sheets stuck to the adhesive. “Aw, man. No paper.” She said to herself. She then tried forward, scouring her mind for a solution to such a predicament. Here she was, leaning forward with her rosary handing in her face, squatted over the toilet seat with urine dripping from her privates.

Today couldn’t be any worse.

Just then, the door shot open and slammed into the girl's head. Antoinette yelped at the harsh contact, not even paying attention to the scream let out by the man above her as she focused on her now throbbing head and tried not to fall into the toilet bowl. “Dammit, Antoinette, lock the door next time.” The man groaned. Antoinette held her head as if her hand would bring some sort of red to the area.

“Ok, Joey can you go grab me some toilet paper? We’re out.” She said, trying to focus on how embarrassing this whole ordeal was.

“Uh, yeah, give me a sec.” He said through the door before drifting away.

Antoinette sighed, her head flopping down as she was once again left in that weird position, now even more embarrassed that someone saw her and that she was hit in the head. And it was her coworker.

Lord. I’m sorry but I must die today.

Joey then came back with a new roll of tissue, handing it to the girl through a crack in the bathroom door, even though he could see the girl in the small bathroom mirror. A few seconds after a flush and the sink running, Antoinette emerged with an awkward smile on her face to see Joey standing in front of the bathroom door.

“Hi.” Was all she said, looking everywhere but his eyes.

“Hey.” The taller olive-skinned man said back. They stood in front of each other for a few moments in silence.

“You should go—“

“Sorry about—“

They stared at the same time, pausing before awkwardly laughing.

“I was gonna say sorry about your head. I kinda just barged in.” Joey continued, smiling down at the girl in front of him.

“It’s fine, I was sitting there very awkwardly. Squatting rather.” She stared, brushing it off. “I was saying that you should head on in there and…do whatever you were going to do.” She shrugged. She could feel her heatwave pick up just being in his presence. And the longer she looked at him in those sultry brown eyes, the feeling of a hot pool started to rumble in her lower stomach. She might’ve been a virgin, but she wasn’t stupid.

Well, not entirely.

She knew she found Joey attractive, but the feeling she got when she stood too close to him was not okay in her book. It triggered her fight or flight, but instead of running away or throwing fists at him, she wanted to jump into his arms.

Yeah, I can’t do this. It’s time to leave.

“Well, it was nice speaking to you Joey, have a nice day. Oh, and Lonny wants you to remove the homeless guy from the booth in the back.” She spat out in a hurry as she grabbed her bag from the hook, along with her coat, and walked back to the front. She passed the table on her way out, seeing that they were now eating. “Oh, you guys got your food. Great.” She said with a small customer service smile as she continued walking.

“Yeah, our order is actually wrong—.” The woman from before couldn’t get out much more before Antoinette was cutting her off.

“Sorry, I’m off the clock. Bye.” She cheesed on her last words and walked out of the door, a bell ringing above her head. She scurried to the alley on the side of the building, to see her bike still double-chained to a random pipe in the next building over. It was basically a little game at this point to come around the corner and see if her bike was still there. Sighing in relief, she rushed over to the baby blue bike with a wicker basket in the front. She unclasped her key from her wrist and unlocked the heavy-duty chains she bought with her last few dollars when she moved to New York. This elderly couple had given her the bike when they saw the girl walking in the rain, saying it was their daughter’s old bike. But since the girl was lost and confused in a very nice neighborhood, she had to buy some chains so she didn’t get jacked before she could get to enjoy its labor.

The girl opened the basket in the front of her bike to place her chains into when she paused at the sight of something wrapped in the large bin. The thing was moving underneath the black cloth and Antoinette was just frozen. She glanced around at the alley to see if anyone was watching her but spotted not a single soul. Sighing, the girl reached out and pulled back the back fabric, being sure to keep her head as far away as she could whilst also being able to see within the basket. Seeing that whatever it was didn’t violently react to her movements, she eased forward to see a tuft of sandy white hair.

What in tarnation is this?

Now confused, the girl leaned forward and pulled the cloth back more to see two small kittens in her backseat, one was this sanely blonde color, the darker part of its body being its nose area and its tail. The other kitten was a mix of colors, mainly orange and black with white spots here and there. Antoinette’s heart immediately melted at the sight of the two kittens.

“Awww!” The girl said, pouting at the creatures who lay in her basket. Well, one creature lay while the other moved around in the basket as best as it could. “Well, aren’t you two just the cutest?” The girl gushed as she lifted the blanket with them two in it to place the chains at the bottom of the basket. Once placing them back down, she looked at the cats, who eventually acknowledged the woman above them with tiny meows, as if they were speaking to her speaking voice. Antoinette nearly cried as she continued to fawn over the cute little animals.

“Yeah, you two are coming home with me.” She said as she mounted her bike and washed her way out of the alley. “Des is just gonna love you two!” She said excitedly, closing the top of her basket and riding off into the New York City streets.

“Why the hell are there kittens in the kitchen?” The light skin girl said as she walked into the small flat and hung her keys and coat near the door before turning to her right to see two kittens in the kitchen licking at a bowl of milk on the corner. Antoinette smiled at the girl as the light from her laptop reflected off her large glasses.

“Hello, Odessa.” The girl said formally laying one hand on top of another as she sat straighter in her seat. The lighter girl furrowed her brows, eyeing her friend across from her in the small kitchen.

“What do you have to say?” The girl demanded out of her rather than asked, already tired from a long work day and knowing Antoinette had something up her sleeve.

She’s sneaky for a catholic…Well, aren’t they all? According to history.

“Well, to answer your previous question, these cats are here because some holy being left them in my basket on my bike.” She started. She could see Odessa was about to speak again but she interrupted before she could. “And before you say anything discouraging, I’d just like to say I did some extensive research. The multicolored one is a calico kitten, and did you know that approximately one calico in 3,000 is male? And guess what? He’s male!” The girl with glasses said, faking her shock again to add to the dramatic value in front of Odessa. The leather-clad girl just leaned against the kitchen archway with her arms folded, face stoic. Seeing that Antoinette was waiting for some sort of reaction before she continued, the woman slightly opened her mouth to let out a small gasp, glancing over at the kitten near her feet.

Antoinette smiled before continuing. “And that quiet and mysterious beauty is a ragdoll kitten. They have an above-average life span, fully grown at 4 years old, quiet by nature, as you can tell. And they are one of the largest cat breeds out there, which is also kind of confusing because you’re supposed to mix other breeds to get a ragdoll cat.” She said, trailing off at the end as she looked at her laptop in confusion, those two facts not making much sense in her mind. Shaking off the thought, the spec-wearing girl looked over at her cooler friend, who just stared at her. Antoinette put on her best smile.

Well, not her best. She was sort of anxious about the whole situation so the smile was kind of awkward, the girl showing all of her adult teeth while her eyes waited on an answer, her brows giving away her concern.

After a moment of silence, the two just looking at one another, Odessa cracked first.

“We can’t keep the cats.” That was all she said before all hell broke loose.

“But, I did so much research on them! I could probably work as a veterinarian with all the knowledge I know now.” The girl in pink whined.

Odessa just started, moving to put her hands in the pockets of her leather pants, the tattoos on her arms showing.

“It was basically a sign from God- well the universe that I’m meant to keep them. They just appeared in my basket, begging for my care.” She continued, changing her words when she saw the girl's brow spike at the mention of the guy up above. That still didn’t get a reaction out of the girl, Odessa just moved across the small kitchen and past the tiny table to the fridge. Antoinette followed her moments within her seat, desperation etched into her face.

“I mean, it won’t cost us much. I can use the bin we use for our socks as their litter box and just use sand from the cigarette pot downstairs.” I’m grasping at freaking straws here.

Odessa turned around once she had the beer in her hands and used the counter to pop the lid off. “And for now we can just give them milk, ya know since we always have some that go bad and we’re lactose intolerant anyway.” She continued, taking her glasses off her face to look at her friend.

Odessa cringed at her words, and leaned against the counter now, which was only about three feet away from the other girl. “That sounds like a terrible life for these poor kittens, Antoinette. And us.” She said before taking a swig of her beer. “We can’t afford them.”

“I mean, it's not like we’re poor. We can take care of them.”

“We have a box television in the year 2023…” Odessa started, “And it’s not even in our living room, it’s in the kitchen and it’s the size of a basketball.” She finished, pointing over to the small television on the corner of the table that softly played reruns of old television shows with the antenna that aimed at the small kitchen window. “We don’t even have fucking cable.”

“Language,” Antoinette muttered. “I mean, at least we get to watch Sex & The City and Living Single for free.” She smiled over at Odessa, who gave her a simple stare. “We can’t afford them, Bennie.” She said softly.

Antoinette then deflated, shoulders sagging as she leaned back in the old wooden chair. She had lost all hope as soon as the girl said that name, Odessa only calling her that when she was serious about something. Mainly because Odessa hated nicknames. “Okay, I’ll find them somewhere tomorrow.” She softly whined before putting her head in her hands. Odessa pursed her lips in sadness, patting the girl on the shoulder for comfort before making her way out of the kitchen. It only took her about three steps before she was in what most would call a living room, but Odessa liked to call it her room. Since it essentially was her room.

The far wall was made of brick, with a green couch in front of it that let out into her bed and a small back circle table in the middle, on top of an ugly carpet.

The girl sighed as she turned and dropped down onto the couch, letting her back hit the seat cushions. The old ceiling light hurt her eyes and made her already terrible hangover headache worse, so she threw her arms over her eye, placing her face in her elbow. Getting home late last night from one of her small concerts, she liked to call them, at the bar she worked at, she got a little too wasted. It was a recurring theme for her honestly.

Get up, go to work at the bar, wait till 10 to start performing, do that until about 2 am, get drunk afterward and either go home with whoever she decides to lay with that night or go to her humble abode. She didn’t perform every night, but when she did, that was usually the routine. And now she was suffering the consequences of getting drunk and staying up until 5 am when she had to work only hours later. At least she didn’t perform tonight, now she could stay in longer since it was only 6.

Her head becoming too much, the girl sat up from the couch to head to the bathroom to see if she could salvage some pain pills. But before she could, the sight of a pile of letters caught her eye. Reaching over, she grabbed the small pile to sort through.

Bill, bill, bill, creepy letter, postcards, bill, rent, perfume samples…What the hell?…

Odessa paused at the sight of the letter, the off-white paper wax-sealed with a red stamp. She squinted, looking at the seal to see if she knew the symbol from somewhere. Looking at it in just the wax form, she couldn’t quite make it out but she knew it looked familiar. Standing up, she kept her eyes on the letter as she walked back to the kitchen.

“Did you see this creepy ass letter in the mail?” She asked, standing the the archway and turning the letter to face Antoinette, who had her head propped on her chin as she sadly looked at places where she could drop the kittens off. Speaking of kittens, they now lay in the girls’ lap, curled into one another in almost a yin and yang symbol.

Antoinette looked up, squinting at the girl who was blurry since she didn’t have on her glasses. Odessa walked forward, placing the letter in front of her roommate.

Placing her spec on, Antoinette inspected the letter more, immediately recognizing the symbol. She furrowed her brows, glancing up at the even more confused Odessa. Gliding her long bare nails under the wax seal, she popped the envelope open and pulled out the letter. “Ohh, handwritten.” She said to herself as she looked at the unfolded paper.

She was silent as she read through the letter, causing Odessa to just stand before her and wait for the girl to speak. She watched Antoinette read the letter, her face going through a mix of emotions. First, her brows raised in surprise in the beginning as she hummed in contempt. Then her eyes widened as she continued before she got to the end of the letter and gasped.

“What is it?! You’re making my blood pressure rise.” Odessa said, watching the girl intensely.

“It’s from Saint Mary’s.” She started, not looking up to see Odessa cringe at the words. “They said a lot has changed in the last four years. Mother Agnes died, and they refurbished the church and built it. And they even have new staff, but the community is failing. They sent letters to all the kids that grew up in the foster home to see if they’d come to work there to improve their quality of life. Pay and free housing included.” She finished, looking up at the girl before her.

Neither of them could look each other in the eyes at the news, both of them still processing everything. Mainly the information about Mother Agnes dying. There was a sense of relief as if the girls had been haunted by everything that woman did to them. And in a sense, they were. They’ve endured too much pain at the hands of Mother Agnes. So much pain that they had to live with their whole lives, and leaving there didn’t help as much as they thought it would. They just now had a place to express such feelings out loud. Although they never did. Conditioning at its finest. Just thinking about their youth made Odessa want to break down and cry after so many years of pushing those memories away. And Antoinette…she could have a panic attack just being back at such a place.

After a moment of silence, Antoinette read over the letter again and again while Odessa just started in thought, someone finally spoke.

“We should do it.” She said softly, not looking up in fear of Odessa’s reaction.

“And why the hell would we do that?” The other girl asked harshly, offended that Antoinette even thought of such a possibility.

“Because it could help.” She answered softly. “We could use the money.”

“We have money. You and I both work.”

“You said it yourself, Des,” Antoinette said looking up, her hands slightly shaking as she played with the letter in her hands. The thought of going back wasn’t doing her psyche any good, but she felt as if this was a good opportunity. Maybe this could be good for us. “We don’t have the money.”

“I said that about your cats. Me and you are living just fine.” Odessa spat, her words harsh as she looked down at the darker-skinned girl. Antoinette subtly flinched at her tone, looking back down at the letter in her hands. Odessa saw her small movements and immediately felt bad, she wasn’t making the situation any better.

“It could be good for us.” Antoinette started again, not looking up this time. “We could go there and help out. Make it a better place than it was when we were there. Be nicer to the children so they…don’t end up like us.” She said. Her words hung in the air for a moment. “I mean, what other place is gonna offer us free housing and a job?”

“We go back just so we can be in debt to those people?” Odessa stated, ignoring what the girl previously said about helping the children. “So they can treat us like some charity case? Like they did when we were foster children?” She continued to ask, staring at the top of Antoinette’s head since she refused to lift her eyes from the wax she was ripping off the paper envelope. “I’m not going through that again, not for some people who didn’t give a damn about us then.”

“There’s new people.”

“Yeah, and who do you think taught them what they know?” She asked, folding her arms. There was a thick silence between them.

Antoinette nodded, never looking up. “You're right.” She closed her old laptop and adjusted the kittens into her arms. She then tucked her laptop under her arm and stood up. “I’m gonna go to bed now, good night.” She said softly, walking past Odessa and into the small room on the other side of the living room. Odessa sighed, placing her head into her head as she heard the girl's door softly close from her place in the kitchen.

Antoinette didn’t come out of her room after that, but Odessa could hear her shuffling around in the very small space. She now lay on her bed couch, looking over at the skinny door every time she heard the slightest moment from the room. She would wait to see if the girl would come out in the middle of the night like she always did to ask her random questions, say a random fact, or go to the kitchen to get some water and get caught up in the small television. But none of that ever came.

As soon as Odessa thought sleep was about to finally meet her halfway, she got caught in the words Antoinette said earlier. About helping the children.

Now, Odessa was far from a children's type of person. She was far from a people person, honestly, but she had to make a living somehow. So, for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why she was so affected by the girl's words as soon as they left her mouth. But deep down, she knew why. And so did Antoinette.

Even in the foster home, Odessa would always protect the younger kids from punishment. Taking all their lashing so she didn’t have to hear the cries of children being hurt. Antoinette is one of those kids when the others would blame things on her. And she would take their pain with no words since the age of fourteen. She never vocally expressed the pain she felt emotionally, mentally, and definitely not physically. That mentality infuriated Mother Agnes to the point she would single the girl out and beat the girl harder to see if she could make her break. But Odessa only let tears slip when she was alone.

Now Antoinette didn’t know the severity her words would have on Odessa’s mind, so she couldn’t blame the girl. But she knew that the girl was right. Odessa would do anything in her power to make sure no other kids ended up like her. She would do anything to not hear the cries of pain from children who busted and wanted to be accepted and loved.

And with that thought, she got up from the bed and walked over to Antoinette’s room. She opened the small door that led to the tiny room to see the girl’s back facing the door, looking out the window at the city as she lay in bed and petted the two cats.

“I changed my mind.” She said softly.

Antoinette glanced over her shoulder. “About the cats?” She started. “Nah, I think you’re right. I don’t think I can care for them properly.” She said sadly, turning to look back out of the window.

“No, not about the cats,” Odessa stated.

There was a pause between the two, Antoinette processing the girl's words. She then sat up in her bed and turned to face the girl at her door, five feet away from her. “What made you change your mind?” She asked softly.

“You were right. About everything.” She shrugged, biting her lip. She was anxious about the whole situation. Coming to such a conclusion about her feelings and the thought of going back to the town brought more bad memories than good. But also to how her best friend would react. But that was all washed away when she saw the girl smile.

“Can I bring the cats?” She asked, pointing to the sleeping kittens in her bed. Odessa giggled, looking at the pleading smile on her friend's face.

“Yeah, sure. I mean, they’ll have more space to grow. Its a better life than here.” She said shrugging.

Antoinette then gasped. “Oh! Now I can get one of those cute wax melt sets so I can’t write back to them.” She smiled excitedly. “Oh, this is gonna be so great!”

Odessa smiled at the girl's excitement. “Now get some sleep, we have some things to sort out before we head up.” That was all she said before she closed the door behind her and made her way back to bed. She let out one final sigh before closing her eyes and letting sleep take her away.

Antoinette smiled at the door as it closed before looking down at the animals at her side. “Ya see, prayers do get answered, guys.” She said, holding up her right hand that was wrapped in her rosary, showing it to the sleeping cats. “Oh, you guys can’t hear me. Or understand me. Or understand religion. I need to go to bed.” She hugged before plopping down onto her pillow with an anxious smile and closing her eyes.

Let me know if you guys like the story and if you’d liked to be added to the taglist!!!

[bookofmirth]

Can I ask who's side you were on from the Ember bonus chapter? Or are you kind of neutral on it?

Oof this is so complex, anon. This is going to be so long. And I doubt that this conversation will be settled any time soon.

I wouldn't say that I am neutral because I have Thoughts and Feelings, but I think Rhys and Nesta both had good points and did dumb things. I know this post leans in Nesta's favor, but it's not anti anyone. It's more my thoughts about how complex the situation was, and why I think people did the things they did, what was motivating them. Let me explain:

Should Nesta have consulted someone about giving the mask to Bryce, even just to borrow it? Yeah, I think she should have. I knew that she had done that prior to having read the bonus chapter, and in the back of my head I thought it was so... weird for her to have given this important object of power to Bryce without asking for anyone else's opinion? I felt like I was missing some context, like why does Nesta just hold onto these objects all the time and do with them what she wills? Guess my unease was right, because other characters do NOT like how she handles the trove.

The stakes from Nesta being wrong about this were insanely, astronomically high. And "astronomical" isn't even a metaphor in this case, it's literal. She wasn't wrong, but that is a huge, gigantic, ridiculous risk to have taken. Everyone in acotar knows that the Daglan/Asteri are the beings who oppressed them thousands of years ago, and now they have proof in Bryce's arrival that the Daglan are still up to their old tricks. For the Daglan to then have these objects of immense power, potentially?? OOF. And Nesta is newer to the fae world, she may not fully grasp the gravity of the situation, so she probably wasn't working with complete understanding of the implications.

I mentioned that the group chat has been ACTIVE on this topic, and @areyoudreaminof (I think it was Kelsey, if not correct me) said that perhaps Nesta was thinking that by doing this, she could help humans in some way. Maybe not the humans she grew up with, but somewhere, Nesta thought, maybe she could do something good for other people who are effectively powerless. So I understand why Nesta did it. This was also after she had spent a bunch of time with Bryce, they learned about each other's worlds, and I think they had attained a sort of understanding.

Also side note, but people didn't trust Nesta with Made objects in acosf either and that was condescending as fuck - maybe she didn't want to be just as shitty to Bryce as everyone had been towards her. I get why people don't trust them with these objects, but in a way it comes down to underestimating them and not understanding their intentions.

Was Rhys right to have lost his mind about the mask going to another world? Absolutely. The Night Court is his responsibility, which means that everything that happens there ultimately falls to him. His fears about the Daglan invading again have been real since he saw Aelin falling through the sky. He's been thinking about these very real threats for a while. Merrill is researching other worlds and although this hasn't been confirmed, I feel like she was brought there for that reason? To give him answers? Whether or not that's true, Rhys is the High Lord and the fact that some of the most powerful objects in their possession were off galavanting in another world without his knowledge, in a way that could literally lead to the destruction of their world - Rhys being understanding and nice about it in this situation would be totally unrealistic.

Rhys has also Been Through It in terms of war, court politics, fae bullshit. He has a much better grasp of what the consequences could be if Made objects get into the wrong hands. His fears aren't hypothetical, they are very real.

HOWEVER - was Rhys right to have treated Nesta the way that he did? Absolutely fucking not. I am honestly so sick of him being a dick to Nesta just because of shit she's done to other people. Not to him. It was so hard to read descriptions of Nesta's body language when they came back into the scene, after their fight. "Nesta's shoulders tensing, her head bowing". For Nesta to have been so thoroughly chastised by someone who already has a history of treating her like shit, it made me so mad. For Nesta, who has gone through so much growth and made so many strides to not hate herself, to regain confidence and better awareness of herself, to have been made to feel small - it makes me so, so mad honestly.

The thing is, we don't actually know the content of their argument, what Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel said to Nesta. All we have gotten thus far is the aftermath. Maybe Rhys tried to be tactful and then Nesta pushed his buttons, as she's done in the past. All we know is how Nesta acts afterwards, which doesn't make me feel charitable in terms of how Rhys handled it.

I think - and again I'll need to read more of the context of this fight which I assume we will see in acotar5 - but I think that one of the main reasons Rhys was pissed off and reacted the way he did was because of his ego (and fear, even if it's justifiable). He's so used to calling all the shots, to having everything under control, that I think he's not used to anyone else having power on the same level as him. Power in this sense refers to authority, the ability for other people to make these kinds of decisions without consulting him. He's used to being the Big Man in Charge and Nesta is clearly a threat to that. This is all my headcanon/assumptions about how he's feeling, but... I'd be surprised if I'm off the mark, based on his past behaviors and the way he makes executive decisions without consulting the IC, who ostensibly exist in order to support him.

Basically, I think that Nesta was on shaky ground in letting Bryce borrow the mask even though it did turn out okay in the end, but Rhys was wrong for acting out the way that he did.

This is only somewhat related to your actual question, but I think that this is one of the scenes that we will see in acotar5, made possible by having Azriel's POV, him as the main character.

[flyonthewallmedstudent]

The weirdness of high school.

And university too maybe.

Plus or minus med school. But not residency. Watching THis is Us and other bingeable shows recently.

There's a lot of flash backs and flash forwards in the show.

There's the high school ones, which like all TV shows is very stereotype'd. They go to an alumni event, and the nerdy girl now surgeon is estactic to hang out with the former football star/cool guy. Who is very thick.

I was a super weird, nerdy, socially awkward kid. Afraid of a lot of social things, but not afraid of science, history anything academic or what I looked like. I wore oversized sweats all day everyday. I never knew how to say the right things or act in a crowd. I hated crowds. 2 or 3 close friends was great, and the best I could muster. I was terrified of their parents.

But funnily enough, I never knew I was weird. I wasn't unhappy either.

I liked having 2-3 close friends, nothing more or less.

Then close to graduation, one of the guidance counselors (the non-crazy one) said to me, she didn't have a great high school experience either. But it gets better after high school. I'll see. It took me years as a teenager to understand what she meant.

Later on I realized that other people felt sorry for me. Thinking because I didn't have the stereotype of the great high school experience I was some how sad, ashamed, unhappy.

Ironically I never even thought about it and was actually happy in my own world and space. I had my separate universe in academics. Like it never dawned on me that I was missing out on anything.

I felt embarassed, in a strange way as an adult reflecting on those experiences. Slightly embarassed for me, but more embarrassed for the small town/city around me. I did not fit in that place, but I didn't know it either back then or didn't care to. We were very much ships passing in the night. I didn't and don't hate where I grew up, I actually loved it in my own way. I got a great education there, and it got me where I wanted to go.

Looking back, plenty of kids probably made underhanded mean comments or passive aggressive statements - but it all went over my head. I suppose I would have been unhappy, had I read between the lines back then. Someone even stole my math text the week of the math exam, but I was actually flattered. That hey, someone thought I was that smart (imposter syndrome starts when you're young). It was one of the best days of my life.

It was also hilarious to me then, that stealing the text of one of the nerds during exam week would sabotage anything - because they spend their entire free time studying the whole year. They don't cram. Cramming was a terrible habit I acquired in university/undergrad. In med school, I'd fail exams because I crammed.

Another time I had left my draft math home work in a common room table, a classmate told me (2 weeks after the fact) that 5-6 different kids grabbed it and copied it. unfortunately for them, it was a draft full of errors, so I completely disregarded as trash. the final copy I submitted with the correct formulae was substantially different. Our math teacher of course realized that everyone had the same errors, but couldn't figure out the source. No one ever said anything mean or confronting, so it wasn't hard to brush aside. they self-sabotaged themselves, nothing actually happened to me.

Again, it was like we lived on different planets. Had they asked, I probably would have helped them out, I didn't get the grades I got by myself either. My far smarter co-nerd friends taught me a lot. On the other hand, I was intensely shy, they probably interpreted it as being "aloof." Or worse, condescending.

I'd felt my entire time during school, that it was the path to something else. I wouldn't get there till about 10-15 years later. Maybe even 20. It was a means to an end. If I was going to be working, then I wanted that work to have meaning. Or what would the point of all those hours. My parents worked in jobs they grew to hate to just go home and be tired.

Med school was a bit like high school. After the first few months of first year, i spent most of it hiding from other med students. (They were fucking crazy, a good chunk of them although not all, the anxiety, stress, competitiveness, the back stabbing, entitlement and bravado --> by the way, people do mature and get better. of course not all them do. anyhoo).

It was after selecting a vocation and starting residency that I found "home." Where I suddenly was comfortable having more than 2-3 friends and happy to be in crowds. Because everyone in the crowd was pretty much like me. We wanted to talk about all the same things. Maybe I grew more comfortable in my own skin along the way too.

But you know, it wasn't me that need to grow and change. I had found the environment where I finally could be myself in.

[munsonbrackets]

Tutor Astarion

https://href.li/?https://www.youtube.com/shorts/lHIfng6qd90 IDK why this makes me feel something, but I’m not mad about it.

Like imagine being some shitstain of a student (on purpose lowkey) and Astarion having to tutor you because he’s the best in the class, which of course he is considering he is a fucking elf. Like why wouldn’t he understand Elvish and Espruar?

And at first, you were genuinely trying to appease him. Every teacher you have ever had has told you that your pronunciation is remarkable, no matter what script you spoke. Really, your accent might actually just be the only thing preventing you from failing this class. And you might also not be failing because Astarion, top of the class (fucking showoff), is tutoring you.

Truly, they could have given you anyone else, even Halsin tried to volunteer (but he was quickly shut down by the teacher). No. Your dear teacher decided to kill two birds with one stone in a very simple manner. By teaching them how to throw. Astarion seemed to severely dislike teaching others what he had so simply been raised with and you were going to probably fail this class.

And at first, you hated it as much as he did. The sneery remarks that he made, as though he was mad at your parents for not teaching you something as simple as Espruar, you would be quick to respond in an indifferent snide comment in infernal. A language that he was, funny enough, not familiar with. Which just seemed to frustrate him even further. 

But then he corrected you, he was right with his correction, but there was still something in that snappy tone and sneering face that made your heart skip a beat.

The assignment was simple, you thought. Send a letter designated to your teacher. The letters' contents could be a memory, a short trip or a fun story you had come up with. And while you were supposed to have said ‘aerister’, a teacher, instead you accidentally said ‘ageas’, a guard.

- - -

Astarion looked at you from underneath a quirked brow and a slightly open mouth as if to ponder if you had finally gone mad or maybe to silently say ‘are you stupid?’, which obviously weren’t the words that came out of his mouth. “You wish to send this letter to your guard?”

You looked back at him with the same sneer, but also intense confusion. Did ageas mean guard? You swore you remembered it meant teacher… Astarion made no effort to tell you what ‘teacher’ was, so you spoke up instead “Obviously not! I know that ageas means guard! What I meant to say was-” You furiously scrolled a couple pages in your dictionary, trying to remember what ‘teacher’ was in Elduran, “‘aethus’.”

Astarion’s face dropped into a plain old sneer, without the look of your stupidity in his mind, and you felt a shit eating grin spread across your face. You were right, you had definitely been right-

“The word you’re looking for is ‘aerister’.” He sneers out, obvious pronunciation when he says it, so that you might repeat it. But there isn’t a moment for you to speak before Astarion snickers and speaks in a playfully condescending tone- 

“Unless you wish to send this letter to a male harper, which I won’t shame you for, it just simply isn’t the assignment.”

And you feel your heart thump. One hard heartbeat that makes all of the air in your lungs metaphorically rip out of your body, makes a tingle shimmy itself up your spine to make all of your hairs stand on edge, makes your heart feel like it has beat its last.

You could feel the muscles around your eyes spasm in small, practically unnoticeable, twitches as you quickly blurt out- 

“Aerister! Anyways, are we done now?”

Before you allow Astarion to sneer something back, you start throwing your pens into their respective places and leave quicker than you ever have. You only feel the heat of embarrassment creep up your neck after you are fully out of view of his gaze. With an exit like that, he must be just feeling…something? You didn’t feel like worrying about it and you head down the hall, heading home to figure out your own thoughts before you worry about his.

[nevraeldarya]

So I know this is random, but I just I realized that Jason is a Pokémon Rival!

My Evidence to this is:

They just declared rivalry with the strongest person in the room/town

their declared rival is someone who, at best doesn't care about them or at worst sees them as a nuisance

Everytime they challenge them, they think they are better than their rival, but get beaten really easily (ie. jason getting tired from the storm but rhea isnt)

They think they are (or at least one of) the best trainer/demigod of their generation

They try to prove themselves at random times (ie. Jason getting annoyed at rhea correcting his stance)

Thats all ive got so far 😅. Also, Just to be clear, I'm not hating how you wrote Jason, I actually love how you wrote him. I just find him funny and pathetic in a 'wet cat' sorta way. Like, everything he does just makes me go 'OK sweetie' in a condescending way, like a parent would when a kid says something😅

I wanted to give Jason more depth, because, honestly, he felt a bit too flat in the original story. He’s always been portrayed as the golden boy, the natural-born leader, the son of Jupiter—so much of his identity is tied to that. His whole life at Camp Jupiter, people told him he was meant to lead, to be the one everyone looked up to. That’s all he’s ever known.

Jason Grace’s character has always revolved around being a leader—it's not just what he does; it's WHO he is.

At Camp Jupiter, he was the son of Jupiter, the chosen one of the Romans, and everyone’s expectations reinforced this image. His identity was built on the idea that he was born to lead, and for as long as he can remember, being the person others relied on gave him purpose. It wasn’t just a role to him, it was the very core of his EXISTENCE . Every decision, every mission, every victory was a reminder that leadership was his path, his destiny.

So, when someone like Rhea steps in and naturally takes over the role that he’s supposed to fill, it messes with him. Suddenly, he doesn’t know what to do. It’s like his entire purpose, the one thing that gave his life meaning, is GONE !

Jason feeling exposed. Where he had always been told he was the best—strong, capable, and destined for greatness—Rhea simply embodied those traits without effort. She was a better leader, more confident, more effective, and it gnawed at him. His sense of self, once so certain, began to crumble. If he wasn't the leader, if he wasn’t the person everyone turned to, then what was he? What else was there? WHO IS HE ??

This isn't just a blow to his ego—it's a deep, existential crisis. Jason doesn’t know how to be anything else.

The angst comes from this deeply rooted fear that, without being a leader, he has no purpose NO worth. He can’t see a future where he’s anything other than what everyone has always expected of him.

He can’t imagine a life where he isn’t the one people look up to, and now, with Rhea taking that position, he’s left questioning his worth.

What is he supposed to do if not lead ? What is he supposed to be ?

It’s a question that consumes him, leaving him feeling hollow and lost, as if his entire existence has been shattered by this one, undeniable truth—he’s not irreplaceable.

In a way, Jason's inner turmoil mirrors Rhea’s. Just as she can’t see a future beyond following in Percy’s footsteps and then fading away.

Jason can’t see a future where he isn’t defined by the role others have imposed on him.

It's not just about being a rival to Rhea; it's about the existential crisis of losing his identity, his place in the world. And that’s what makes his struggle so heartbreaking—it’s not just about competition; it’s about losing the only thing he’s ever known.

He is scared of being abandonned by the people he swore to look after once he loses the position and title of Leader.

[gibbearish]

there were a lot of things but the most annoying was that so many times he would ask something, i would respond, and then he would just sit there silently for a while until i finally was like ?? why is he silent ?? and looked around and made eye contact. then he would literally make this exact face

before continuing. like man fuck off, if you consider eye contact a requirement just say so so i can go home

god idk why but i SUPER dont want to do this therapy appointment

[wrathofrats]

13 and 14 together for the promt list, maybe swissalps because we both know that's the only correct answer here

-ily🩶🩶🩶

Ivy

Ivy my beloved thank u

"did i say you could come?"

"be a good girl and take it."

Me putting Swiss in his whore ass place again

It’s forcefem y’all I apologize (no I don’t) Swiss is so into it. Bc he’s weird and he’s Swiss. Also the mockery of lipgloss because it’s my god given right to be weird about it.

The artificial scent of cherrys and vanilla invaded Swiss’s senses. A thick coat of gloss sat on his lip, sticky and tinted red. It gave his mouth a pink hue, a sheen that made mountains head spin.

“You have such a pretty mouth darling” he whispered, running his thumb along the very bottom of Swiss’s lips. “Would love to use it however I want”

Swiss made a noise of approval. Sat on his knees nuzzling into mountains hand. The carpet burned his legs where he kneeled, been sitting long enough for mountain to find the gloss and run it over his lips. A gentle but firm hand holding his chin while he swiped the makeup on his mouth, the weight and stickiness of the gloss reminding him of his place. Swiss could feel his cheeks heat up as it was applied, he felt delicate in mountains touch, feminine

“Is that what you want? For me to use your pretty little mouth” mountain asked

The softness in his voice just reiterated the point made by the gloss. Swiss was out of his element, not used to the soft touches and feminine words. It made his head feel fuzzy, wanting to stare at the floor as his cheeks flushed with the feeling of being treated so soft. Mountain knew what this would do to him. Such a hard and fast ghoul made to sit and be treated like he was a dainty, fragile thing.

"Be a good girl and take it."

Mountain had a hold on Swiss’s chin, coaxing his mouth open to guide his cock inside. Fingers tangled in his locs, the other placed on his cheek to keep his head still, only to be controlled by mountain. The pace is slow, tantalizing, and it takes all of Swiss’s energy to not force his mouth down to take mountain all at once. He instead lets the earth ghoul guide him.

“There you go, go slow baby” mountain says in a time that can only be described as condescending. “Doing so well sweetheart, think you can take all of me?”

There’s an attempt to nod before Swiss quickly takes him all in one go, it’s always been a wonder how Swiss has absolutely 0 gag reflex. His nails dig into his own thighs where they’ve been placed in his lap. He was told to be good, to sit pretty.

Swiss’s knees are nudged open by mountains leg, no doubt a subtle invitation if he wanted it. And oh, Swiss did. He had been hard since he even saw the lip gloss. Mouth dry at the thought of mountain putting fucking makeup on him, it did more than he would ever admit.

It was hard to ignore the way mountains shin pressed into his crotch, the movement of his head making him rub slightly against it on each bob. Eventually making it rut against it mindlessly.

Drool slid down his chin, quickly chased by mountains thumb. He smeared the drool and lipgloss over his cheeks.

“So messy aren’t you doll”

Swiss whimpered in response, hips awkwardly moving against mountains leg, desperate for something more. It was a harsh movement, borderline hurt. His head felt like it was full of cotton and all he could think about was making mountain feel good, being good for him.

His hips stuttered, ground deeper into mountain, claws digging into his thighs. His head stopped, thoughts unclear only able to attempt to think about chasing his orgasm.

Suddenly he was pushed of with a pop, the sole of mountains boot shoving him to the ground and hovering over his crotch.

"Did i say you could come?"

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls AU WRH, LQR, and LN go on a nighthunting adventure! It be really cool to see WRH get in a situation in said adventure where he has to rely on LQR’s cultivation/LQR in general because he got KOed. (Not killed thou plz ;-;)

The Greed Is The Unraveling - Chapter 1 - ao3

“Don’t cough blood on me,” Lan Qiren said, voice as prim and proper as it had ever been.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Wen Ruohan replied, teeth clenched and brow furrowed as he fought off the pain. Blood leaked out from the corner of his mouth despite his words. “I suppose the stain of red on white is terribly hard to get out.”

His tone was bitter, angry, and he was probably making some sort of very clever metaphorical point, given the Lan sect’s white robes and Wen sect’s emblem of red and white.

But –

“Actually, blood dries brown,” Lan Qiren corrected him, unable to stop himself, and tried to let the incredulous look Wen Ruohan shot him slide off his back. He was moderately used to people reacting that way by now. “Also, Lan sect robes are embroidered with a number of arrays designed to promote cleanliness, so it wouldn’t actually stain…”

“Lan Qiren.”

The words were spat out through gritted teeth, the tone of voice strongly suggesting that Lan Qiren shut up.

Lan Qiren obediently shut up.

They continued to make their way through the forest. Wen Ruohan was leaning heavily on Lan Qiren’s shoulder, one foot dragging behind, the arm not looped over Lan Qiren’s shoulders wrapped around his midsection – he was very badly injured, although Lan Qiren could not say to what degree. They had not had time to stop for any medical care but the most immediate. If Wen Ruohan were concerned about the state of Lan Qiren’s robes, it had already become a lost cause long ago.

“All right,” Wen Ruohan said after a long while of tense, seething silence. “Tell me.”

Lan Qiren looked at him sidelong, wondering if the loss of blood had led to hallucinations. They had not been having an ongoing conversation.

“You told me not to cough blood on you,” Wen Ruohan clarified. “But not because you want to preserve your pretty white robes. If that’s not the reason, then what is?”

“Oh,” Lan Qiren said. “I just meant…”

“Well?”

“Well, it’s not healthy, is it? With as much blood as you’ve lost, you need to keep as much of it on the inside as possible.”

Wen Ruohan went silent again, although now the tenor of the silence was a little more in the astonished and somewhat disbelieving vein.

Lan Qiren was used to that, too.

After another long pause, Wen Ruohan finally spoke again. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” Lan Qiren said.

“Nineteen,” Wen Ruohan echoed. “I suppose that explains it.”

Lan Qiren wasn’t sure he understood what, exactly, was meant to be explained.

“I think we can stop now,” Wen Ruohan added, sounding lofty and condescending as if they’d only continued this far for Lan Qiren’s benefit – as if he weren’t the one who was leaning more and more heavily on Lan Qiren, as if his pace hadn’t been the one that had been getting slower and slower. “I think we’ve lost them.”

“We’re also in the middle of nowhere,” Lan Qiren objected. “We should at least make it to the foothills and find a cave. What if it rains?”

“It will rain. I’ve already summoned the clouds – we need to hide our footprints.”

“All the more reason to find shelter, then.”

Wen Ruohan looked frustrated. “Build one, then.”

“I don’t know how,” Lan Qiren said honestly, and Wen Ruohan looked even more annoyed. “I’m a young master of a Great Sect. No one ever taught me how to build shelters from branches. A cave is a better bet.”

“Do you want me to admit it?” Wen Ruohan spat, and Lan Qiren startled at the venom in his tone. “Fine, have it your way. I can’t make it any further!”

“Oh,” Lan Qiren said, and felt relieved. He’d been hoping Wen Ruohan would bend his foolish pride and agree to receive assistance for the last half-shichen at least. “That’s fine. I’m still all right.”

Now that they were agreed, he pulled Wen Ruohan off his shoulder and hoisted him up on his back in a single motion, a technique he’d mostly gotten used to with his cousins back in the Lan sect – Lan Yueheng’s early experiments with alchemy had often left him dizzy, and Lan Qiren had grown used to returning him to his quarters while carting him on his back.

Wen Ruohan was a bit more cumbersome, but not by much. Lan Qiren was able to pick up the pace considerably.

“What are you…are you carrying me?” Wen Ruohan asked belatedly. “On your back? Like a child?”

A moment’s pause.

“Are we going faster now?”

Lan Qiren stayed quiet.

Wen Ruohan struggled with himself for a while, then finally burst out with – “Then why didn’t you suggest it earlier?!”

“I didn’t want to offend you,” Lan Qiren said, relieved that they had gotten through the awkwardness of a social interaction without anyone being mortally insulted. “It seemed like something you’d object to. Strenuously, even. I’m glad we’ve gotten over that.”

“…have we.”

Lan Qiren craned his neck backwards for a moment, unsure of what Wen Ruohan seemed to be hinting at, but the other man unhelpfully pressed his lips together and refused to say anything the entire rest of their journey to the foothills, even when Lan Qiren needed to spend some time investigating until he found a suitable cave without any existing inhabitant that might try to bite their heads off. It was late and had started raining by then; they were both utterly drenched by the time they managed to find a safe place.

Lan Qiren wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep.

Naturally, that was when Wen Ruohan decided to speak up again.

“Why did you assist me?”

At first, Lan Qiren did not understand. “I thought we covered that,” he said, puzzled. “You couldn’t walk, and I could –”

“Not with walking.” Wen Ruohan’s voice was as cold as ice, and sharp as a whip. “If you had stood aside and done nothing, I would be dead even now. I expected to be dead. I am not. I would know why.”

Lan Qiren hadn’t been expecting that.

“Our sects are not allies,” Wen Ruohan continued, implacable and unmoved. “Nor do we have a personal relationship – I don’t think we’ve even exchanged more than five words before today. You are nineteen, the second young master of the Lan sect, soon to be its heir once your father retires from public life and your brother ascends to the position of Sect Leader Lan, and I am Sect Leader Wen, with everything that name connotes. We may not be so far apart as night and day, but one could certainly make a compelling argument for dawn and dusk. Why did you help me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Lan Qiren asked in return, helpless. He didn’t know what to say. “I mean, those people, they were trying to kill you!”

“I am well aware of that. What I want to know is why you chose not to let them succeed.”

Lan Qiren faltered, remembering the solemn faces of those strangers that had come in with such force: a black-clothed young man with eyes that crackled red with demonic power, with a Lan sect disciple beside him, tall and straight-backed with classic Lan features, clearly one of Lan Qiren’s kinsmen and yet not anyone he recognized; the young man in black had called him only Lan Zhan, a given name, and that could have belonged to any number of people. They had seemed terribly determined, acting with resolution and absolutely no hesitation.

Their attack had taken Wen Ruohan completely by surprise. It was not wrong to say that if Lan Qiren hadn’t acted when he did, as he did, Wen Ruohan would indeed be dead at this very moment. Never mind helping the strangers, as they’d oddly seemed almost to expect when he’d risen to his feet, but even if he’d simply refrained from acting, that would have been enough. But he hadn’t done that.

Instead, he’d…

“I couldn’t let them kill you,” Lan Qiren said. “You haven’t done anything – well, no, that’s not right, you’ve done rather a lot that might call for it, actually. And one can’t say that you’ve avoided evil paths, or behaved righteously in a consistent manner, I mean, just that Fire Palace of yours alone is fairly damning and all of that’s putting aside any political considerations there might be for…what was I saying?”

“You were talking yourself into explaining why it wouldn’t have been so bad for me to be killed, I believe,” Wen Ruohan said dryly, but the icy feeling from earlier was fading. “Quite effectively.”

Lan Qiren shook his head to clear his thoughts. “The rules say Love all beings.”

“They also say Stay away from evil men.”

“Uphold the value of justice.”

“Who’s to say that justice wasn’t on their side?”

Lan Qiren didn’t know what to say to that.

“I just couldn’t,” he finally said, lacking anything cleverer to say. “It seemed wrong.”

His brother hadn’t lifted a finger in Wen Ruohan’s defense, and neither had his father. Lao Nie probably would have if he’d been there, but he’d been called away by something extremely urgent related to his sect, something involving one of the sect disciples and a fierce corpse (or possibly two?), though there hadn’t been many details. But Lao Nie did have a personal connection with Wen Ruohan, which Lan Qiren certainly did not, and everyone said that the Nie sect was likely to establish a formal alliance with the Wen one of these days. One could argue that the Lan sect, as an ally of the Nie, might have an obligation to the ally of their ally, but that was a tenuous enough link, and to balance it out there was that strangely familiar-yet-not Lan sect disciple among the attackers, with just as strong a call to Lan Qiren’s loyalty if you looked at it objetively…

But Wen Ruohan had truly done nothing to any of those attackers, as far as Lan Qiren knew, and the idea of simply sitting there and doing nothing – of letting the other man just die, when he could do something to prevent it – was simply unthinkable.

“I don’t know why I helped you,” Lan Qiren finally admitted. “I just…did.”

“Do not act impulsively,” Wen Ruohan quoted at him, and Lan Qiren winced. “Well, whatever may have motivated you, I am in your debt, and I will surely find a way to repay it, with interest.”

That sounded oddly like a threat.

“I don’t need anything –”

“Oh no,” Wen Ruohan said. “I insist.”

The ice had faded out of his tone entirely by this point, and he sounded rather smug, if anything, which was ridiculous. They were both completely bedraggled, each one drenched through and through, Wen Ruohan injured and Lan Qiren tired and neither of them expecting any support or backup; they weren’t in any position to be smug about anything. If it weren’t for the fire Lan Qiren had built to warm them and the drying arrays in his robes, which he only knew how to activate after having spent years in his childhood hiding away in small dark spaces to avoid talking to anyone and ending up in the laundry listening to the washerwomen chatter, they would probably be too cold to even have this conversation – their teeth would have been chattering too much. As it was, Lan Qiren still had to remove his outer robe and wrap it around them both. It was an uncomfortable sort of intimacy, though strangely less unpleasant than most times he’d had to make physical contact with another person.

“I didn’t get to my current position through sitting around and waiting for people to attack me,” Wen Ruohan added, his eyes lit up with a fire that Lan Qiren had never seen in him before; if anything, Wen Ruohan usually tended to give off the impression of being thoroughly indolent and even lugubrious in everything he did. The unexpected infusion of vigor made him seem a full century younger, as if he were the one who was nineteen and Lan Qiren the old man. “They will regret their actions, each and every one of them.”

Lan Qiren had the sinking feeling that Wen Ruohan wasn’t just referring to the strangers, but to the others that had been there at the discussion conference. The ones who’d done nothing to help.

Like his father and brother.

“But there must be balance in all things. Just as I lift my hand in vengeance against those that turned against me, I also never fail to reward those that chose to back me, returning favor with favor in turn –”

Lan Qiren was suddenly aware of how close together they were pressed, Wen Ruohan’s form a shocking line of heat running right up and down his side from his shoulder to his hip to his knee. Huddled as they were under his outer layer, with only Lan Qiren’s wet inner layers left to him, it felt almost as if they were wearing nothing at all.

Lan Qiren had actually been intending on suggesting that they both strip down the rest of the way in order to put their inner robes near the fire to dry, thinking no more of it than he would have if it had been Lan Yueheng beside him, but suddenly he felt his face and ears go red for no reason at all.

Maybe it had something to do with the way Wen Ruohan’s voice had suddenly dropped low, deep and meaningful and right in Lan Qiren’s ear.

He swallowed.

“Don’t waste your time with that,” he said, reaching for sternness and coming up short – he was only nineteen, in the end, and only a disfavored second young master; he was not yet accustomed to being authoritative. “You’re not in any condition for either favor or vengeance at the moment. Let me see where you’ve been hurt. You probably need new bandages.”

“We don’t have any left,” Wen Ruohan said. He was watching Lan Qiren’s face with a strange sort of intensity. “We’ll have to make do with something else…would you let me have your forehead ribbon?”

Lan Qiren flinched automatically at the thought. According to custom, only parents, children, and spouses could touch someone’s forehead ribbon. Technically the rules only prohibited using another’s ribbon without authorization, which could be granted, but to actually grant such a thing was tantamount to a declaration of intent. The mere idea made him go hot with embarrassment.

On the other hand, human life took precedence, always.

“…all right,” he said. “If you need it.”

Wen Ruohan smiled as if Lan Qiren had said something very important.

“Favor with favor,” he murmured, seemingly speaking to himself. “Measure to measure. I’ll have to find something fit to equal the favor you have given me – and that will be very difficult indeed.”

“I already told you, you really don’t have to –”

Wen Ruohan raised his hand and pressed two fingers to Lan Qiren’s lips, silencing him as effectively as any Lan sect spell ever had.

“As I said,” he said, his eyes dancing in the firelight of the dark night. “I insist.”

[thenightling]

Venting about a pretentious fan of Irish folklore

I'm going to vent a little here. Yesterday in my Facebook group dedicated to Neil Gaiman's The Sandman we started on a conversation about Irish folklore. It was a fine enough conversation which, almost predictably drifted to Banshees. I mentioned how the original word was the Gaelic "Bean Sidhe" (still pronounced like the modern Banshee) so it's almost like just saying "Woman faery." Somehow this earned a very pretentious and condescending response from someone who was insistent that Sidhe are not faeries. She said "Obviously you're not Irish." and then went on to tell me that Sidhe aren't "Fluttery little things with wings" and how they are "Not Tinkerbell" and that they are "More like Titania and Oberon from Shakespeare's a Midsummer Night's Dream. Two things had me seeing red with this. The first is the "Obviously you're not Irish." It was very condescending and dismissive. I think she had seen my American location on my Facebook account and then decided that I must not know folklore no matter what I said.

The second issue is how wrong she was. For starters, I never once claimed that sidhe are "Tiny fluttering things with wings." and ironically we (others in the group and myself) had discussed Titania and Oberon previously in that very thread. The Fae Court turn up quite a few times in Neil Gaiman's The Sandman. Also it was kind of baffling that she felt the need to imply that Titania and Oberon are not faeries. "My Fairy Lord, this must be done with haste" is literally something Robin Goodfellow (Puck) says in Shakespeare's a Midsummer Night's Dream.

I think she, herself, was confusing the word faery and pixie. For though pixies are faeries not all faeries are pixies. Faery is a blanket term for many entities of Irish folklore including the Sidhe, and even the Dullahan (headless Horsemen). She felt the need to lecture me about how dangerous faeries can be. Ma'am, this is a Sandman group. Neil Gaiman's The Sandman features a homocidal hobgoblin version of The Puck. Most of us are well-aware of how dangerous these beings are in traditional folklore.

What made it even more infuriating was in her effort to "correct" me even though there was nothing to correct, she had somehow earned eight likes and loves on the comment. I pride myself on my knowledge of folklore. I have read Dark Faeries by Dr. Robert Curran, An Encyclopedia of Fairies: Hobgoblins, Brownies, Bogies, and Other Supernatural Creatures by Katherine Briggs, Irish Fairy and Folktales (leatherbound Barnes and Noble edition). And several others but those are the titles that come to mind.

What made this extra baffling is I said nothing that contradicts anything she said here about the Sidhe being dangerous, and closer to Oberon and Titania than Tinkerbell.

I think she, herself, was confusing the word faery and Pixie.

On a final note, I understand the frustration of those that think faeries are all tiny pixies but that's not what I had said at all and. And ironically, Tinkerbell isn't all that nice, herself. In the original story she tried to have Wendy killed out of jealousy.

[long-suffering-little-spoon]

Mild The Giggle spoilers + big rant about RTD's writing in the Doctor Who specials below!!

Over these few specials I've had mild beef with some of the writing about the "progressive" stuff just feeling a bit condescending?? [DISCLAIMER: THIS ISN'T A COMPLAINT ABOUT "SHOVING INCLUSIVITY DOWN OUR THROATS" OR SMTH, I'M JUST A QUEER DISABLED WHOVIAN WITH A FEW THOUGHTS ON STUFF THAT GAVE ME PAUSE. Also I talk about RTD's weird writing of POC in DW. I am white, don't take this as definitive or coming from a place of expertise on POC perspectives, it's just stuff I've observed as a fan of the show]

The Isaac Newton stuff was all perfectly fine but the trans and disabled stuff could've done with a bit more subtlety e.g. "doctor: wow my tardis is now wheelchair accessible :D shirley: wow it's about time your tardis was wheelchair accessible doctor it's 2023 now" instead "*shows tardis ramp* shirley: finally" Idk. And the scene where the doctor assumed the meeps pronouns and Rose corrects him just felt a bit weird and performative. I get DW airs on the BBC for the whole country but from what I've seen it's got a big queer and disabled fanbase and we don't need to be talked down to about our own experiences like this?? And I'm sure the non-queer non-disabled members of the public can still comprehend a bit of subtlety????

Also! RTD has historically not written his POC and especially black characters very well in Doctor Who and I am hoping and praying that should there be an episode that explores how the Doctor is now perceived differently because of his race it will be written by somebody with more tact and experience on the subject. And Yas as the only POC just being entirely forgotten from the lineup of new who reciprocated love interests mentioned was definitely a bit... weird yeah

I think it's clear that, as someone who has that perspective, RTD is better at writing gay characters/experiences than other minority groups that he isn't a part of (which makes sense) and like he's clearly trying but some of it jut feels a bit off. Like yes!! I am all here for this new era of doctor who that celebrates all different kinds of people but it would be good to hear from writers with those backgrounds going forward to avoid feeling talked down to with clunky lines or worse saying/implying outright problematic narratives

**IMPORTANT EDIT: Someone brought to my attention that the word "woke" is an appropriation of African American Vernacular English and it has been co-opted by conservatives as a negative thing and just by white people more broadly when neither should be the case. Uses of "woke"/"wokeness" in this post have been edited to say something else of the same meaning that isn't from AAVE. Apologies for my error and thank you to the anon who pointed this out. A lot of words that people conflate with being "Internet slang" are actually just appropriated AAVE and on my part at least I will prevent myself from using such appropriations in future on this blog and IRL. Hope that clears things up!!

[chthonicarcher]

you’ll be interested to know I hadn’t actually read your response to me on AO3 yet at the time of receiving this ask! I haven’t looked at my AO3 inbox at all since you left your original comment, in fact. if you felt bad about whatever you said, you could have just deleted it at any point... (but it doesn’t matter. the entire thread will be deleted soon regardless!)

continued... ->

okay, so first: I do sincerely apologize for replying to your initial comment in anger. because yes, it made me angry! I should have waited until later to reply, when I wasn’t so annoyed anymore. but I didn’t wait, and I do regret that. and, as a side note, I did *not* actually intend to sound condescending—but, as I’m sure you’ve realized, intentions sure don’t count for much here.

because you claim in your ask that you *intended* to “kindly” let me know about an error you noticed in my fic. but what you actually did, though, was rudely ignore the chapters you had read and PRESUMABLY enjoyed (who knows?? not me, because you didn’t say shit about that) and instead decided to point out what you perceived as a math error on my part (which, I’ll only say this once more, because it doesn’t actually matter: I was not, in fact, wrong about in the first place!) and called it a day. WOW, THANKS!

pictured here: KINDNESS!

do you understand why that kind of thing might make an author feel bad? I mean, really, do you? it’s like you walked into my house, sat down at my table and started eating this cake I had baked for you *without uttering one single word to me* the entire time, and then abruptly stood up and left while loudly talking about how *you* would have frosted the cake differently. come the fuck on, man. even just *thinking* about writing things again is hard enough for me right now. I mean *nice* comments don’t even hit the same when you’re feeling bad about your work! *this* shit feels demoralizing. like listen, I get that you probably weren’t trying to be a dick on purpose, but please just...try to have more awareness of how your words could affect people? I don’t think that’s too much to ask.

by the way, some advice for the future, if you’ll pardon the condescension: if you ever feel an urge to get pedantic in somebody’s comments section, in MY opinion you should either a.) be their trusted friend already or b.) be very sure they are receptive to those kinds of corrections. and ALSO, in addition to those things, you should probably say literally anything else in the body of your comment so you don’t come off like a total dick. you don’t have to write a whole novel or anything, as appreciated as those are—even something as brief and to the point as “this was great” is a perfectly acceptable comment.

SIGH. so okay. so.........I’m sorry, but I think it’s really fucking interesting that you ALSO left this comment on cabin fic, which *also* made me feel terrible? you’ve really got a knack for that, it seems. yeah...actually, I’m going to go ahead and request that you stop leaving comments on stuff I’ve written? usually it really is true that more comments = better! comments are so, SO appreciated by fic authors...I mean, they fuel us. they really are all that’s keeping us going sometimes. but...in both of these examples...I really think just saying nothing would’ve been better.

and...that brings us to the elephant in the room. again, I’m sorry—I just don’t know of a way to approach this without being a bit condescending?...but, listen. if you *are* in fact a minor...then I don’t just need you to stop commenting on my works, I need you to stop READING them. both of the fics we’re talking about here are rated Explicit. minors are not welcome.

alright, with that out of the way: at the time of this posting, I still haven’t read your second comment on AO3. if you’d like to delete it before that happens, please feel free. I’ll be deleting the entire thread pretty soon regardless. I don’t need it sitting there festering and making my WIP fic any harder for me to look at than it already is.

with all that said? thank you for apologizing. and, again, I’m sorry for the tone of my response, too.

— 𝒜𝓇𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓇

[xknivesandpensx]

Like Pieces of a Puzzle

Chapter 6

Summary: What if Harry wasn't the only extra student called upon to participate in the Triwizard Tournament? Far from the most popular candidate, Draco not only has to take on the trials but also deal with his unexpected feelings for Hermione. Will he be able to face the challenges as well as follow his heart?

Chapter length will vary. I'll be referencing both the books and movie versions. Some things from what I've previously written will be mentioned, all of which you can find here.

And for those who asked to be tagged: @dayane245love

The last person Hermione expected to see was Draco. Not only were her S.P.E.W. badges scattered across the floor (after spending so much time making them too), the narrowed gaze she received brought about a wave of apprehension.

Probably because his blue eyes lacked the usual gleam of resentment. She knew, obviously, his hate of her didn’t suddenly disappear. His demeanor gave no indication otherwise. Both arms remained rigid at his sides as his lips creased downward in a frown.

He came off a mix of haggard in appearance and distracted given it took a moment for his attention to redirect itself. Maybe angry as well, something Hermione considered to be of no surprise.

Getting a better look though, his complexion took a rather white hue against his already pale skin tone.

“How about you try watching where you’re going!” Draco retorted. He moved past her, not really in the mood to deal with the strange sensation prodding his chest.

“I could say the same to you,” Hermione breathlessly remarked, more to herself. She knelt to gather her things, tossing them noisily in the box.

She shook her head, fighting the urge to say more. The unexpected collision threw off her guard. Hermione intended to head straight towards the common room and tell Harry and Ron about her newest idea, only to have her enthusiasm diminished.

The same routine between them started to grow tiresome. Biting comebacks, staggering silences, or he simply paid her no mind. Sometimes each one happened in the mix of a single day.

Maybe a tiny part of her clung onto a thin thread of hope. She took Ginny’s advice or at least tried to when it came to keeping herself open to other possibilities. Though she lacked any form of anticipation, especially given the school year just started.

Her head snapped in his direction after hearing a cracking sound beneath his shoe. He must have accidentally (or purposely, she wasn’t quite sure which) broken one of her badges. Hermione barely realized they spread so far.

“What’s spew?” Draco questioned, after picking it up and inspecting the letters. His voice echoed in a condescending way, yet not entirely held in an offensive manner.

“It’s S.P.E.W.,” Hermione corrected, gathering the last few, placing the box on the nearby bench. “The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, if you must know.”

“Of course, you’d feel sorry for the house-elves, Granger.” He rolled his eyes but tossed it in with the others. That must be the reason she hurried off to the library every day. The whole thing seemed like a waste of time.

She thoroughly believed in her cause and therefore felt no shame remarking in return, despite her reluctance to quarrel. “Given how your family treated Dobby, I’d hardly expect something as decent as fighting for elf rights would matter much to you.”

“Let me guess, Potter told you all about that, did he?” he asked, raising a brow. He certainly remembered his father’s particularly unhappy mood. “What does he know anyway? He lived under a staircase for most of his life.”

“And so what if he has? At least Harry values the well-being of others.” Perhaps judging Draco’s level of concern wasn’t entirely fair. After all, she knew very little of his inner circle.

“Ah, yes. Let’s congratulate Saint Potter and is overwhelming generosity,” he threw back in a drawling sort of tone. “Associating with blood traitors and Mudbloods alike. How charitable.”

Draco started to wonder if Pansy’s assumption of something going on between Harry and Hermione were true. She never failed to defend him and constantly stuck by his side. The suspicion rose from sheer lack of proper knowledge. But the two seemed awfully close and he happened to notice them head to the library the other day together. Obviously, he knew suspicion led nowhere.

Still, the mere idea irked him, no matter the innocence of a relationship at fourteen may be. And if he outright asked? He’d face a hostile defensiveness alongside the implication of another thing entirely – an obvious announcement that he…

Draco pushed it down. If he even allowed the sensation to flicker, he’d fall straight into whatever every nerve ending in his body screamed at him during moments such as these.

“I think I’ve waisted enough of my time talking to you,” Draco announced after a clearing of his throat. Now all he needed to do was keep walking and she’d no longer possess the ability to control his emotional state.

Hermione already prepared herself for his hasty departure, willing to let him go until her attention locked onto a detail he tried very hard to hide. “What’s wrong with your hand?”

“Didn’t we go through this already on the train?” he asked, reluctantly coming to a stop. Clearly, she didn’t mean the bruise she pointed out upon their journey to Hogwarts, which faded in color since.

“The other one,” she mentioned matter-of-factly. “Did that happen when you were with Professor Moody?” If so, what exactly gave him cause to think something so vile qualified as a proper punishment? She certainly didn’t need to be told what he used, having overheard Ron’s parents talk about it a while ago. From a distance she spotted the redness of his skin and a rather painful looking stiffness of his fingers.

Draco turned his head a degree, holding back his confusion. “Why do you care?”

“Why don’t you?” she countered in full disclosure of her own puzzlement.

He turned to face her fully, attempting to bypass the gravity of the situation. “My father will hear all about it. I bet he’ll be sacked by next week. The sooner the better, if you ask me.”

He couldn’t fathom writing a letter to Lucius, not after filling nearly three pieces of parchment. He merely said it to save face. Dumbledore favored Moody too much to fire him. Though he might test the theory. He found out a few complaints went a long way.

Hermione approached him, chasing away her hesitancy, and attempted to get a better view of the wound. He pulled away before she got the chance.

“I just wanted to see it,” she complained, huffing slightly. “At least tell me what you were doing. Because if it’s what I think it is, you really should go see Dumbledore.”

Lacking the energy to argue, he settled on providing an answer, hoping to slip away soon after, skipping over the fact that Moody threatened to use the Cruciatus Curse on him. “I had to write lines with some kind of quill from the Ministry. As for a trip to the headmaster’s office. I think I’ll pass.”

Hermione ignored the latter. “Black Quills aren’t allowed. Not to mention strictly intended for signing magically-binding documents in the form of blood, in order to make them legally-binding. It’s highly illegal to use them otherwise.”

“Then I can only hope Moody’s dismissal is made a spectacle of,” Draco affirmed, growing impatient. He wanted to be on his way already. “Are you quite finished pestering me?"

Hermione nearly let him leave, but she held too many qualms. Not on Draco specifically. On Moody as well for his detention tactics.

The question hung between them, levitating in place. She opened her mouth to speak and nothing came out. Sometimes Hermione wished her feelings for him would vanish, to never exist in the first place. How much easier things would be if that was the case.

But they did exist and Hermione needed to maintain a realistic outlook.

“If you let me, I can help ease the pain,” she offered. Even he shouldn’t have to suffer for something so minor as poking fun at another student, no matter how awful his remarks were. “It looks terribly unpleasant.”

The comment wasn’t offered necessarily to soften the blow of taking his pride down a notch. It happened to be true. Her skills at casting spells came naturally and while she expected a response in full derision, it shocked her to see him hang back.

He reluctantly sat on the bench, because he really was unwilling to stand too close, all the while thinking he must be insane to accept her help in any regard. “Make it quick,” Draco muttered. He brought his hand out to her once Hermione took a seat. Her box of S.P.E.W. badges rested between them, leaving a small gap.

His hand continued to scar as the letters lessened in visibility. It still hurt, however, like needles jabbing into his flesh. Draco saw how her expression changed upon getting a better view.

Pity. How he loathed to be on the receiving end.

Hermione took out her wand. “I need you to keep steady for this to work, it takes precision. Otherwise, I may make it worse. Dark magic is tricky to counter, even using the simplest of enchantments.”

Despite the attempt, Draco found it difficult to remain still. Even if the pain lessened since he left Moody’s classroom, it kept gnawing inward.

Hermione gently grabbed hold of his trembling hand, surprised, even more so than before, that he let her. It felt strange to feel the roughness of his skin against her palm. Sure, Harry pulled her along while they raced the clock to save Sirius and Buckbeak, but this – it casted a calming effect beneath the static of his touch, enveloping her in an affluency of fuzzy feelings.

Hermione spoke the spell in a whisper, unable to meet his gaze after its completion. Her thumb brushed over the marking, now able to get a proper view. “Well, it certainly hasn’t changed in appearance. It doesn’t hurt anymore, does it?”

“No.” Draco let her slowly pull away, immersed in an abrupt coldness once her fingers released. Unannounced to Hermione, he experienced the same awareness, though he lacked the ability to compare to another.

She looked down at her feet. “No remark about me touching you or name calling?”

Draco paused for a moment. “I’ll let it go just this once.” He couldn’t thank her or shake the lessons drilled into him. He was taught not to express gratitude to someone of lower standards to himself.

Though he ought to leave, Draco leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, further inspecting the results of her spell, as if simply to do something amid the quiet. He shouldn’t have allowed her to help, the notion in itself came across wrong. Handling pain was child’s play, yet he caved.

In the past he may have gone straight to Madam Pomfrey, complaining all while seeking attention, but the mere thought of people crowding him, especially Pansy, who’s fussing he didn’t necessary mind, deterred him from the start.

Draco’s silent disposition started to unnerved her, especially while alone in his company.

For a second, Hermione imagined pushing the box out of the way and pressing into him. One hand reaching up to touch his jaw. Kissing him without any shyness or particular gentleness. She wanted to know what it felt like to have his lips on hers. If only.

Instead, she logically reflected on their positions and shifted uneasily, choosing to broach a certain memory rather than indulge in fantasies.

“Draco.” It almost felt funny to call him by his first name to his face. Typically, his surname sufficed. “Do you remember the day we met?”

Sometimes she wondered how much he recalled. They were so young, it seemed like eons ago rather than a few years.

He turned, brows furrowing from the random mention. “What about it?”

“Well…” She stopped short, not entirely anticipating a remark free of ridicule. “Have you ever thought back on it? I suppose you regret being nice to me, in your own way, of course. I’m a little embarrassed. I practically invited myself to sit next to you.”

Draco couldn’t figure her out. She went from arguing to offering to help, then into a casual conversation, speaking as if they were on friendly terms.

“You’ve always been a tad too assertive for your own good.” He pushed himself upright, resting his back against the wall. “You were looking for a frog or something of the sort.”

“Toad, actually,” Hermione corrected. Nostalgia washed over her. Their little moment on the train left a fond imprint, even after their second year rolled around and he started to call her a Mudbood.

“Must you always be so precise?” A twitch of a smile formed. It tugged at his heart, mixing seamlessly amongst an ounce of dread for the very thing he thought impossible from the start. That he denied only minutes ago.

He truly developed a sense of attraction towards Hermione Granger. And in acknowledging it, he considered the damage it inflicted on his family, the shame and humiliation he’d cast on his parents. Narcissa may not judge him too harshly (albeit disappointment would reign overall) but Lucius, he’d be furious. Draco, in no means, desired to test his father’s temper.

“Unfortunately, I can’t help myself,” Hermione commented. She hated to spoil their first, however brief, civil conversation in a long while. She feared it’d revert and the preference to maintain a good memory persisted. “It’s nowhere near curfew, though I best get going. Harry and Ron will start wondering where I am.”

She moved to place her wand away.

“The candy I gave you,” Draco slowly added, almost ready to chastise himself. Maybe for right now, until she disappeared, he’d humor his feelings for her. “It’s no longer sold but Honeydukes has some. All you have to do is ask for it specifically, if you still like them as much as I remember.”

Hermione stood and picked up her box, confused by the unexplored reason behind his comment, surprised he remembered the small detail at all. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

He caught sight of the smile she made in mid turn, finally departing. Draco knew going back to hating her after fracturing his predetermined loathing of the girl would be an immense struggle.

[aeraspais]

i wonder if most of the pushback with regard to 8x05 comes from the fandom being so sure that eddie is going to figure out he’s gay before he shaves the mustache. i think that belief has led to there being this sense of ‘if gay eddie/buddie doesn’t happen now and like this then it’s never going to happen and we’re running out of time’, which isn’t true. i admittedly did get caught up how the fandom theorized episodes 5-7 would play out (bt fight and breakup in 5-6, gay eddie and mustache shaved in 6, possible feelings realization in 7) and felt disappointed with 8x05 because of that, but after rewatching the episode and reevaluating the expectations i had for it and why i even had them in the first place i feel a lot better about it. eddie’s arc is only just starting! we know the shaving scene is at the end of the next episode, and imo it would be extremely rushed for eddie to realize he’s gay within that time frame based on what we’ve seen from him so far. eddie has clearly been thinking a lot about the situation he’s in but his sense of self is still wrapped up in being a father. my guess now is that he will confide in someone about feeling completely lost without christopher in his life and the mustache being a manifestation of that, and they will tell him that altering his physical appearance isn’t the solution he needs to change his circumstances and encourage him to figure out who he is outside of being a father. the synopsis for 8x06 says a call dealing with a divorced man will open old wounds, so if that's about eddie then i think that he will likely also confess to shannon wanting a divorce and how he’s been lying to himself about the true nature of their marriage and the effect that lie has had on all his subsequent romantic relationships. shaving off the mustache will be what kickstarts his self-discovery arc instead of being the moment he accepts his sexuality like i’d thought previously.

as far as the bt breakup goes — if the show does end up going the route of tommy being abby’s ex and that striking a nerve with buck, i think that could be the catalyst that allows him the freedom to admit all the other things about tommy/the relationship that he dislikes but has so far disregarded in an effort to make the relationship work. the comments buck made in 8x05 (“oh so i am gross?” and “my own boyfriend won’t even kiss me”) point toward him feeling dissatisfied and frustrated with tommy. i also wanted to add on to what the other anons have said about bt’s lack of intimacy and say that i find it to be apparent in the dialogue as well. what stuck out the most to me about the daddy issues joke last season was that although buck and tommy had been seeing each other for a couple months and were presumably fucking, tommy still says “god i hope so” instead of something like “i know you do” which would have established a sense of familiarity between the two. everything about the way they’re physically positioned in scenes and how they speak to each other shows that the writers are not interested in developing tommy or the relationship beyond what’s strictly necessary.

also! something i liked about the episode was how it showcased how much trust and respect buck has for eddie versus how little he cares for tommy’s input. tommy and eddie both tried to talk buck out of believing he’d been cursed, but he only relented because of eddie (the pointed “if you say so”). even tommy recognized that he was incapable of swaying buck and deferred to eddie (“listen to the medic”). buck protested when tommy called him out for picking his skin but quieted when eddie backed him up. tommy doesn’t know best, eddie does. also the way buck kept talking about billy boils despite tommy’s multiple (very condescending and patronizing!) attempts at getting him to stop… buck does not like that man lol

Thank you for sending me such a thought-provoking message. I love this post entirely, but I have one small correction regarding your first piece about Eddie’s journey. From my perspective, it's misconception that Eddie’s gay discovery hasn’t started. I always thought the Buddie feelings realization theories were too fast, too soon since they would be a core couple, and like Chimney and Maddie before, their romantic development would happen spread across the season. However, we’ve been watching Eddie’s gay discovery storyline unfold the moment he said “Tommy’s gay?”, learned he and Buck were on a date, then instead of breaking up, stayed with Marisol. So I don’t believe it’d be rushed if he has a small realization that he keeps privately to himself. Otherwise, I agree with you and all your thoughts.

I don’t want to simply reword everything you said about Buck and Tommy. I will also add that Buck likely believes he owes Tommy their relationship since he’s his first gay relationship. Buck has once remained in a relationship under obligation (Taylor Kelly after they said “I love you”). And he has never made the same mistake twice in his relationships.

[genderkoolaid]

#god i can’t even stand to look at what people say about her on twitter it’s horrendous#just the whole spectrum from calling her a harlot fallen woman to the most patronizing condescending bullshit abt how she must be So Unwell#and on top of all that. guys saying ALL THAT and STILL SAYING they want to fuck her#god the combination of contempt and lust they have for her makes me shudder. may they all be cursed with erectile problems amen.

also 90% of the "evidence" they have for her being So Traumatized (besides her being a sex worker in the first place) is that the documentary ends on an interview done IMMEDIATELY after the gangbang with 100 men.

Which is like. an extreme feat with a lot of senses and emotions involved for her. Lots of endorphins, it's something she had wanted to do for a long time, it took a lot of effort and planning and didn't go 100% as she had planned or wanted. So she's emotional and admits she hasn't fully processed what had gone on, and admits that she dissociated, and felt kinda guilty because she had wanted it to be a positive experience for the men involved and she felt bad having to tell them that their time was up.

Any person with a well adjusted relationship to sex and sex work should see this and go, okay. This is very meaningful for her AND it's a very physically stressful experience. It's also completely normal to zone out during a very repetitive task, and yeah anyone who was having sex with 100 people in ~2 minute interviews probably would stop paying that much attention to individual people once they were a few in. She admits that she hasn't fully processed the experience, but never says that she regrets it or felt traumatized– it was just A Lot, and she was very tired, and she wasn't in the perfect place to communicate her overall experience.

We never SEE her in that state in the interview. The documentarian, rather than waiting to do an interview maybe a week later on her feelings once she had time to recover and process, chooses to end on the announcement that she would be doing 1,000 men to break the world record, and talks about how he could've never guessed! She had seemed so Raw and Anguished in the final interview, yet now it appears as though she has different feelings! And he ends on this line about how well it COULD have just been the physical exhaustion from a really big night.... ORRR we saw a dark glimpse into the affect of the porn industry on women!!!

Like. Man. She spent all this time giving you a very thorough and honest explanation of her life, how much effort and thought she puts into her work, and then you go an intervies her RIGHT afterwards and never again and frame it as Proof It Was Traumatizing. He spends the whole video being weirded out by anything explicitly sexual and just generally leaning into the like, TLC-esque "we are pretending to be neutral and not judgy but we are very clearly telling you what we think is the Correct Interpretation of this freak's deviant behavior" framing.

Lily Phillips truly deserved a documentary that was less... catering to whorephobia for views. She seems cool as a person and I think there's a lot of people out there who would react positively to this story, or at least with far more nuanced and respect for sex workers & sex work.

apparently there a Big™ Scandal™ about a sex worker named lily phillips, who initially made a documentary about her goal of having sex with 100 men in a day, and is now preparing to break the world record for sex had in a day at 1,000 men. she seems like a generally cool lady who is really passionate about her work. which naturally means that everyone, their mother, and ben shapiro is waxing lyrical about how she's a fallen broken women and a disgusting tragic harlot and no man will ever marry her and she is the embodiment of the degeneracy of the modern world. speculating about her hypothetical trauma and reading way too deep into her being emotional during an interview after an extremely physically taxing endeavor. calling her a fucking "meat sleeve."

i recommend checking out this article by another sex worker on the whole thing + idk maybe dropping some nice comments on her insta (lilyphillip_s). we really need to give more support to sex workers especially as times get worse.

[gadgetcheat]

rejuv chapter 15 spoilers, theory ramble

well like less of a groundbreaking theory and moreso just a possible observation + what i think the deal with eden is. kind of a long one oops

so like kieran/clear are obviously different from jean/xara despite being android clones of them and i thought about it and then thought about it some more and basically i think that their (+ eden's) respective powers line up with that...

kieran's ability is physical strength (i think? something physical at least. electricity powers are physical) and it seems that he's more similar in physical appearance to jean than clear is to xara, while being wildly different in personality

jean is described as polite, friendly, loyal, keeps to himself most of the time; as opposed to kieran who is described as manipulative, charismatic, condescending, sadistic, super evil, etc

kieran looks more similar to jean than clear does to xara, he's really just jean with a different hairstyle (though the way they style their hair could itself be indicative of a personality difference)

meanwhile clear's whole gimmick is illusions and mind tricks, and i've noticed that in terms of personality clear and xara aren't really so different...

both are described as very blunt and also clever

you ever notice how they have like the exact same pose in their full art?

really the only clear(Heh) difference is their emotions in that xara is temperamental and impulsive while clear is cold and collected

and so clear and xara have a similar personality, but are different in physical appearance, as clear doesn't have xara's freckles (💔🥀) and clear's hair is longer, straighter, and a different color than xara's

and eden's whole thing is manipulation of emotions so following this pattern of their respective gimmicks being a body/mind/soul thing, would mean that the thing eden shares with their supposed counterpart would be........

this is the part where i say that i think the killer android might have a human soul. i dont know how or what that would mean exactly but you know how eden is strangely different than the other two with their different visor and uniform... maybe this could explain why?

and correct me if im wrong on this but it's kind of implied that the 'parallel universe' the androids are from is the old earth right. so this would also explain why there's not a single trace of eden's human counterpart in the new world, because unlike XJ their soul was not exactly recycled into the new world. it would be weird if eden did have a real living human counterpart but somehow no association with XJ who are best buddies (however i think the parallels between eden and risa are totally not a coincidence but that's for another post)

TL;DR - kieran's powers are physical and he has jean's appearance, clear's powers are mental and she has xara's personality, two plus two is four, eden's human counterpart doesn't exist in the current world because eden has their soul

adding on, other stuff that may or may not be a reach but that i felt was worth mentioning:

the flashback where jean asks "did you really have to give the sec drones a personality? that's asking for trouble." and xara responds "personality is everything." probably nothing but... interesting coincidence.....

clear's "get out of my head!" dialogue in the school of nightmares: maybe this could have just been because kieran wasn't with the second group but why was he seemingly unaffected by the puppet master fucking around with their data? was he just soldiering through the worst robot migraine of his life without anyone knowing? or is it specifically something weird about clear?